#but then he pushed me up against a wall and stood in front of me bc the enemy was passing by?? and when they were gone so was my baby lmfao

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sister

Chapter 3 | Lunch Break

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

It was a week before Jinx stepped foot in the lab again. Immediately she was back to her normal, hyper energetic self.

Excitedly telling you when she got to the apartment, all about what she and the two scientists have been up to. It was only after she left that you realized her notebook and lunch sitting on the counter.

You sighed as you picked it up on your way out the door. You didn’t have time to run it to her before work so during your lunch break it was. Good thing you didn’t have any major plans for it.

You had your sandwich in your hand as you walked down the streets. You ate it as you walked. You were finished before you were even halfway to the building Jinx ran to everyday.

You stood in front of it for a moment. It was big and it was shining from how clean it was.

You looked down at your own clothes. A black vest that had been so ripped and tattered when you found it, you simply cropped it for convenience as a shirt. Torn jeans that were frayed at the ends because they were too long and are too big. Straps around your waist holding multiple items including your water bottle and multiple tools you used in the shop. Big, chunky boots that were only held together with straps that wrapped around the bottoms and then wound through the holes meant for shoe laces. You were covered in grease.

You sighed and shrugged to yourself. Nothing you could do about it.

You pushed open the doors.

“Hello,” you said as you made the conscious choice not to lean on the counter.

The secretary at the counter looked up. Her eyes dragged over you. Her lips clamped together as a not subtle at all look of judgement came over her face.

“I’m here to drop something off for Jinx, Jayce Talise and Viktor’s assistant,” you said with a sharp smile.

She exhaled, a small noise of displeasure coming out with it. “It’s up the stairs on the third floor, take a left, last door at the end of the hall.”

Just as she finished talking there was a ding of an elevator. You looked over and then brought your gaze back to her, unamused.

“The elevator is for employee use only.”

“Uh-huh.”

You walked up the stairs regardless, no matter how belittled it made you feel. This was going to be a long lunch break, that wasn’t even a break.

Halfway up the first set of stairs your leg began to pulse. You winced as your leg jerks up on its own accord. One hand goes to the wall and the other massages around scar tissue.

You whisper a curse to yourself.

You let your body fall and turn so you fall on your ass, not your ribs. You bring your leg in close. Your head rests on your knee.

You don’t have time for this.

You need to get back to work in forty and it took fifteen to get here without your leg acting up.

You bang your head against your knee creating a new pain to focus on. “Fucking—“ bang “damn—“ bang “it!” bang

You knee hurts now. Your head? It’s hard. More fine that what you were going for.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice, on the higher almost nasally side, said from behind you, “do you require assistance?”

You look back to see a yordle. He was wearing a deep blue outfit that contrasted light blue eyes sat atop a peach colored nose. He had a white mustache that curled upward and obscured his lips. The white spread all across his face and turned orange near the top of his head. He looked vaguely familiar.

Something rang in your head that this man was important.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” you decided on saying, not wanting to admit any defeat or show any weakness but also not wanting to offend this man.

“Ah,” he said as he jumped a couple steps to where you were and plopped himself next to you.

There were a couple moments of silence. The man looked ahead though he was no doubt aware of your suspicious gaze on him.

Where had you seen this face before?

“You don’t look like anyone I’ve seen in here before,” he said. He turned those stark blue eyes to you. “May I inquire as to why you’re here?”

You raised the leather bag you’d been carrying covered in buckles and zippers. “My sister forgot some things.”

“So your sister works here? Who is she?” he asked. “I may be able to point you there in a faster direction.”

You looked him up and down. Searching for some give to any ill intent but no, this man was a completely open book, open in his curiosity and earnesty.

“Jinx.”

“Oh, I see the family resemblance now!” the man said. “What a fine young woman that Jinx is. If you’re done sitting for the moment, I will be more than happy to let you use my badge for the elevator ride up. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I—“ you cut yourself off.

This man was being nice to you. He knew Jinx. He saw her in a good light. He could get your tentative trust for this moment in time.

“I suppose, if it’s no hassle for you.”

“Oh, none at all,” he said as he sprung to his feet. He started jumping up the stairs. “I have no where so important to be that I can’t spare a moment.”

You hauled yourself up. You grimaced for a moment, a sting shooting up your leg, but you began to follow him as he rattled on.

One hand was against the wall for balance and the other slowly raised to your face.

Family resemblance.

The dark blue, purple hair you had was different to Jinx’s light blue but like that of your mother’s. People always said all three of you looked like her.

All three, you, Powder, and Violet. It was a joke that your father wasn’t actually related to any of you but you could see it in Jinx’s creativity, her beautiful brain. You saw it in Vi’s brashness.

Vi. Janna, you missed Violet.

“Ah, here we are!” the yordle said. “Now where did that thing go?”

He patted himself down and stuck one hands in his pockets until he pulled out a badge. It had his picture on it and you snuck a glance at his name.

Cecil B. Heimerdinger

Your heart dropped to your stomach. He was a member of the council. Not even a member. He was the head of the council.

He pressed the badge to the reader, standing on the tips of his toes as he did.

“Floor level three,” he said. “You just take a left and it’ll be the last door at the end of the hall; two big doors. It’s hard to miss. Tell Ms. Jinx, Mr. Talise, and Viktor I send my regards. Good day you!”

He finished with a flourish of his hand, almost like a half bow as the door dinged open.

“Thank you, sir,” you said but he was already gone, skittering back to the staircase.

What an odd man.

You leaned back against the wall and shifted your weight to your left leg. It took all of ten seconds for you to get to the third floor this way.

You walked out and immediately took a left. There, at the end of the hall, was a pair of large double doors, impossible to miss.

You knocked on them.

A man, tall, brawny, light brown skin and dark brown hair answered the door. Piltover’s pretty boy.

“May I help you?”

Despite your fatigued state you managed to easily slip beneath the man’s arm as you dug in your bag. Immediately you honed in on your sister. You tossed a brown bag onto the table in front of her.

“Your lunch,” you tossed the book aiming for her lap but she immediately caught it before it could land, “and your notes.”

“So that’s where they went,” Jinx said.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Jinx, seeing your weight heavily on one side, grabbed the back of the empty chair behind her and rolled it towards you. You sat, hands on your knees as you hunched.

“That’s where they stayed.”

“This is my sister,” Jinx said as she dug into her lunch bag.

You raised a hand and waved. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Jayce said weakly.

Your hand immediately went to your temples.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s accented voice asked.

“They get like this sometimes,” Jinx said. “A couple years ago there was. . . a thing that happened. It certainly happened,” she laughed to calm her nerves as she thought back. “Anyway, it happened and now sometimes their leg hurts.”

You slapped the back of her head with the back of your hand. She knew better than to say that to just anyone. That is dangerous information to give out.

“Ow!”

“Now your head hurts,” you told her.

Viktor’s lip quirked up. He reached into a drawer to hide it though. There was the sound of rummaging before he produced a bottle. Inside rattled pills. He popped the lid and poured one out.

“Try these,” he said as he placed the pill in your hand and handed you the now closed bottle.

He made an assumption, a correct one, that you’d like to look over the ingredient list before taking it from him. Which was fair, knowing you both were from the Undercity.

You after a moment you downed the pill and moved to hand him the bottle.

“Keep it,” he said. “It’s just over the counter. They don’t work for me anymore. While we’re at it, haul yourself a taxi.”

He flipped a coin that Jinx caught instead of you.

“I don’t need charity.”

“Not charity. It’s payment, great minds can’t go hungry, can they?”

“He’s right,” Jinx said through a mouthful. “I was gonna get really pissy if I didn’t eat soon.”

She shoved the coin in your hand.

Jayce watched, befuddled and confused, not able to understand the solidarity between Undercity kids.

[crossroadsangel67]

MDNI. NSFW. 18+

dean’s had a long week, and he needs to get out his anger somehow, on someone… why not by fucking you?

warnings: lowk toxic lolz but at least the sex is dayum good, dom!dean, sub!reader, blood, overstimulation, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected piv, manhandling, dean breaking shit

REQUESTED

this hunt was going seriously bad. you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this hopeless over a case. you weren’t even sure if it was your kind of thing anymore. all you knew was that you were tired, dean was tired, and little girls all over town were being swiped out of their homes in the middle of the night.

you and dean have been in town for two weeks, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen him so angry. at first, he was just upset and sad for the families and these girls like you were, but now? he was just insanely frustrated.

so frustrated that he just had to pick a fight.

“we’re getting fucking nowhere!” he voice boomed in the small motel room. you ran your hands over your face, huffing. “you think i don’t know that? you think i don’t know that these girls could very well be dead?!” you snapped back.

“well you’re not doing shit! you’re sitting here on your laptop researching, researching what?! and having your nose in a book instead of getting out there and helping me look for them is just fucking stupid!” dean’s face was red hot with anger.

“you think i’ve done nothing, is that it?! i’ve been up all night every night trying to find anything, anything, that leads back to their disappearances. stop acting like i’m sitting around with my head up my ass!”

“well what do you want me to say, y/n?! great job, i know you’re doing your best, sweetie, it’s okay. cause you’re not doing your best and none of it is okay!”

you weren’t nearly as angry as dean was. you knew it was because he had so much pent up anger, but you still didn’t expect him to start acting the way he did.

“and you are… insufferable right now.” he said coldly, his words filled with hate. your angry expression faltered when he said that.

dean stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, rattling the walls. you scoffed and sat on the edge of the bed.

you wanted to tell him how absolutely ridiculous and childish he was being, but instead you just sat there in silence, now hurt more than anything.

just as you were about to open your mouth and holler something to him, you heard a loud slam from in the bathroom. then another. then glass breaking.

“dean?!” you stood up and ran over to the locked door, rattling the knob.

bang.

“dean, open the door!” you stepped back and the door flung open and he tried to push past you. you stopped him and gave the bathroom a once-over. the mirror was broken, things were ripped off of the wall, and the shower curtain was bent in half and in the tub of the shower.

your breath caught in your throat as he pushed past you, and you immediately grabbed his arm, holding on still as he walked toward the front door, turning him back to you.

his tired eyes avoided contact with yours. he looked like he wanted to fucking hurt someone.

he turned away again, snatching his arm from your grip and reaching for the door knob. you jumped in front of him and had your back against the door.

“move.”

“no.”

“y/n, i swear to god—!”

“i said no!”

he gripped your upper arms and pulled you away from the door, but you still held on tight to him. the two of you finally made eye contact. the look in his eyes broke your heart. he was so fucking angry.

“dean, baby, calm down,” you said quietly, holding him close. “hey, hey,” you grabbed his face in your hands, turning him to look at you, hoping to ground him.

you knew you had to do something, so you did the only thing you knew to do to catch his full attention.

you smashed your lips into his. he pulled away at first, looking at you with his jaw clenched. but then he kissed you back even harder, his fingers in your hair and his hand gripping your back tight.

dean backed you up to the bed, breaking the kiss to push you down onto it.

he placed his hands on either side of you, kissing you again. you just melted into it, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks.

he pulled away and started biting and sucking at your neck, harder than usual. you turned your head to the side, soft pants and gasps leaving your lips.

your face dropped as you glanced down at his right hand, and you pushed him off of your neck.

“dean, stop. you’re bleeding.” you took his right hand, inspecting the wound. blood was dripping from his cracked knuckles, where bruises were starting to form. those cuts were sharp, and you knew he had punched the mirror.

“i don’t care,” he growled, his lips going back to your neck.

“dean.” you said firmly, scolding him and pulling away.

“y/n/n… baby, please leave it.” he said in a gentler tone now, his free hand cupping your cheek. “i need you, right now… please… just leave it.” his voice was filled with a desire so strong. he had been so insanely tense all week, so much so that you barely touched each other, and that was rare to happen.

and so you were sympathetic. you needed him just as much as he needed you. and the two of you needed to let loose, before you kill each other in this damn motel room.

he started desperately kissing you on the lips again, laying you back down on the bed.

dean was a gentle lover. he always took his time with you. he’d trace every curve and detail on your body before he’d worry about the thought of chasing his own high.

so, it took you by surprise when he ripped your shirt open, instead of going button by button. and it took you by surprise when he pulled down your pants and panties in one swift motion, instead of teasingly pulling down your pants and biting down on the lace to slide them down your thighs. he even got that bra off quicker than usual.

his own clothes came flying off even quicker, and his cock sprung free of its restraints. he was already half hard when he took it in his hand, stroking himself with purpose. his pupils were crazy dilated.

“flip around.” he demanded, his breaths quickening as he stroked himself faster.

you did as told, rolling over and going on your hands and knees. he grabbed your hips, pulling you to where he wanted you.

“y’know, you’ve been on my nerves all fucking week. and i couldn’t figure out why…” he breathed into your ear, before slamming into your tight cunt without warning. you let out a pained cry as he buried himself deep inside of you, your walls stretching. he let out a deep groan. “turns out, all i needed was to fuck you. to fuck this tight little cunt. who’s pussy is this, huh?”

he thrusted in and out again, harder this time, his grip on your hips tightening. you let out a deep groan. “yours,” you breathed out, mumbling the word.

dean grabbed your hair in one hand, yanking your head back. “what was that? couldn’t hear you.” he mocked, and you could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. he pulled back again, slamming back into you. “fuck! yours, it’s yours!” you groaned, your face contorting from the mix of pain and pleasure.

it wasn’t very often that dean treated you like this. like you were his property. his little fuck toy. but, god, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it every once in a while. and after these few weeks? you needed to be fucked. not made love to, but fucked.

“atta girl.” his head rolled back and his mouth dropped open as he thrusted in and out of you at his own pace. he let go of the grip on your hair and took the back of your neck, pushing your top half down into the mattress.

you were moaning into the sheets and moving your hips to meet his deep thrusts. the sound of your breathy moans and skin slapping against his was enough to make him cum right there if he wanted to.

but not until you did.

he pulled out, and before you could even get a word out, he flipped you over onto your back. your chest was rising and falling in a way that made him even more hungry for you.

“let’s see how many i can get out of you.” he smirked and dipped his head down between your legs. he pushed your thighs into the bed, leaving you wide open for him. you let out a whine when his mouth latched onto your clit. his tongue went crazy, showing you no mercy.

he pushed two fingers into your hole, scissoring you open to ensure you’d stay stretched out for him. he curled his fingers, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot. your mouth dropped open and you let out a filthy moan as your orgasm hit you. but he didn’t stop there.

in fact, he didn’t slow down at all.

“mmph, dean—” you cut yourself off with a whine. your body was still shaking from the previous orgasm. dean kept going, speaking in between circling your clit with his tongue.

“when i hear stop, i’ll stop. until then, i decide when i’m done with you.” he groaned as he licked at your wet cunt, loving the taste of your juices. he went back to your sensitive bud, twirling his tongue around and spelling his full name, as if carving a soulful mark into your most vulnerable spot.

it was when he was on the last letter of winchester that another orgasm ripped through you. you let out a moan that was much more like a cry, and you were sure it was loud enough for someone in the parking lot of the motel to hear.

you gripped the sheets, nearly ripping them with your nails when dean kept going. you tried to squirm away, but he had an iron grip around those thighs of yours.

you were a begging mess at this point, but you wouldn’t tell him the word stop. no matter how overstimulated you were, you wouldn’t dare tell him to stop. it was like an addiction, no matter how much your body fought against it, you were still chasing that thrill, that high.

when the third orgasm hit, your body was shaking so much it was almost comical. that’s when dean decided that was enough of that. he pulled away, and crawled back on top of you.

“look at the mess we made, hm?” he smirked darkly as he held up his right hand. the blood from his knuckles had mixed with your cum, and it was all over his hand.

you were in such a blissful state that you hadn’t even processed right away that he licked his fingers clean. you gasped at the sight of him, his lips glistening with your juices, drops of red around the edges, and his pupils blown out of proportion.

he kissed you with a deep desire, tangling his tongue with yours so you could taste the mixture the two of you had made.

dean continued to deepen the kiss as he took your legs, bending your knees. he broke your contact to throw your legs over his shoulders. your pussy throbbed as he pushed back into you, slowly but deeply.

he squeezed your thighs and groaned as he bottomed out, nestling his thick cock deep inside of you before he started to thrust in and out of you.

you gripped the pillows behind your head as he pounded in and out of you. the moans and whines leaving your lips were unholy, but absolute heaven on earth for dean to hear. he was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each thrust, how you looked at him with a sparkle in your eyes, and how your lips were parted, all for him.

“give me one more, baby.” his voice was deep and rough, but it had such a loving desire underneath, one that you couldn’t possibly say no to.

you nodded eagerly, and soon your head rolled back as he rubbed at your clit with his thumb. you were in ecstasy, your back arching into him as he hit the back of your thighs rapidly.

dean was getting close, and he was so desperate to reach that high, spilling deep inside of you. but he held out to drag your last orgasm out of you, which didn’t take long at all.

“c’mon, sweetheart. cum f’me. give me one last one.”

and that was all it took to send you over the edge, you came around his cock and your body was convulsing. you were a moaning mess, his name coming from your lips like a prayer.

“that’s it, fuck. good girl.”

he dropped his hand from your clit and kept a tight grip on your hips, speeding up his motions before stilling completely, bottoming out as he spilled into you. he let out a deep groan, almost a whine, as he let his body relax against yours.

the two of you stayed in that position for a little while, taking the time to catch your breaths before dean slowly pulled out of you. he held the back of your thighs, bringing your legs back down to rest on the bed.

it was then that he realized just how spent you looked. your body was still shaking, your makeup was smeared, and your eyes were tired.

dean sighed and rested next to you, pulling the blanket up over the two of you as he snaked an arm around your shoulders.

“y/n/n, did i go too far, honey?” he whispered, placing soft kisses on your cheek. you chuckled breathlessly and leaned into his touch.

“still mad at me?” you smirked up at him, holding back a laugh.

he rolled his eyes, but still had an amused smile on his face. “how could i stay mad after that?”

you took his chin in your hand and angled his face down, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “you didn’t go too far. i loved it… and i love you.”

“and i love you.” he whispered back against your lips.

“you know we’re gonna figure this out, right? the case?” you smiled softly to him, patting his cheek lightly.

“i know, honey. i know we will. together.”

check out my MASTERLIST to see more of my work and what’s coming up next in the works <3

[ladywuvly]

♱ press release (declano’hara x journalist!f!reader)

summary|| Being part of Corinium has always been a dream come true. However, when your boss, Tony Baddingham, brings on board the boisterous Irishman from the city, you realize that your once pleasant workplace is about to change for the worse. wc: 5.5k

warnings|| MDNI; 18+ content, smut, infidelity/cheating, dirty talk+swearing, size kink, fingering/oral/spanking (f!receiving), choking, unprotected sex (p!v), rough sex, bodily fluids (cum), agegap, begging, breeding;

masterlist. socials. recs.

Declan O'hara; an Irishman, determined journalist, cutthroat talk show host, loving father, and devoted husband. 

As well as the most sexy, intelligent man you'd ever met. 

The time you'd spent working at the studio, you'd never met anyone like him. Compared to him, James Vereker looked like a schoolboy, and Sebastian Burrows a child. Declan O'Hara had been more man than anyone you'd met, and it was hard to ignore. 

The way his voice carried around the office. It was earthy, his vowels were long and soft, but there was a flatness that gave it roots. You'd come accustomed to it, echoing around the building the more he tested Lord Baddingham and Cameron Cook. 

It had been New Year's Eve the first time the two of you had spoken. You were leaving early for the day, hoping to get a table at your favorite restaurant before going back to your humble abode. 

You entered the elevator turning around to press the lobby button only to be met with the front of Declan O'hara's chest. 

Taking a quick step back before you crashed straight into him, he crowded your space, pushing you farther into the elevator. 

"Floor." His voice was harsh, as it hummed in your ears. The look on his face was stern and impatient. 

"Excuse me?" You asked in confusion. 

His face relaxed and his voice softened. "Which floor, love?"

oh! "Lobby." You said quickly, stepping to the side, creating more space between the two of you.

The ride down felt awkwardly long, the tension lingering. You anxiously stood next to him. Fixing the strap of the bag slung over your shoulder and adjusting the jacket folded across your arm. 

His gaze, not leaving you as the elevator continued its descent. You definitely could feel the way his eyes shamelessly gawked at your figure. The buttons on your blouse became tighter, and the length of your skirt suddenly felt too short. 

"Declan." His name broke the silence, causing you to look over at him. His hand was stretched out toward you, waiting for your own. 

You hesitated before reaching out, and when your fingers brushed, shocks shot through your hand. You mewled out your name, followed by a "...nice to meet you".

With a nod of his head, you bitterly slipped your hand from his, letting it fall back to your side. 

Casually eyeing you up and down. His gaze raking over you, his eyes seem to betray a mixture of desire and restlessness. 

There was something so enticing about you and the more he looked at you, the more his interest piqued. All this time he'd been working here and he hadn't noticed a woman like you walking around. 

The silence dragged, and he felt the words build on his tongue. "Are you going somewhere?" He asked.

"What?" You answered, surprised he was still speaking to you. 

He chuckled deeply at your tone, leaning his shoulder against the wall, getting closer. His head turned in your direction, his gaze fixed intently upon you. 

"For New Year's, are you going somewhere?" He repeated slowly, his eyes never leaving yours once as he waited for a response. 

The lilt of his voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The Irish was thick and sultry on his tongue, his accent like rolling thunder.

"I was going to dinner." You answered hesitantly, unsure why he was even asking. In the soft light of the elevator, he took in the details of your face, the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fidgeted nervously. 

You were a quiet one, most women he'd come in contact with had done anything to gain his attention. Yet you stayed quiet, reserved, shy. A woman so beautiful, so… alluring, could have easily caught his eye, yet he'd never even noticed you. "Was?"

"I'm afraid I've waited too long, missed the reservation window." You told him, and he chuckled again. That earthy sound that seemed to completely fill the space. 

Taking in a deep breath, you were suddenly encompassed by his scent, a mix of musk, and tobacco, something manly. You'd never known a man to have such a presence, the way he filled the room made you feel so small next to him. 

"Pity." He hummed, the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile, his gaze roaming your face slowly, taking in every fine feature. "You should come by my wife's party tonight, then. She's invited the whole office, you're welcome to join." 

"Thank you, Declan. That's very kind of you." You said quietly, your eyes falling down to the floor. The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around in a panic. 

Did he just invite you to his house for New Year's?

Your mind was still racing, unsure of how to respond. You had just met the man, but the way he was looking at you made your head feel fuzzy, and you couldn't bring yourself to say no. 

The thought of spending an evening in his presence was both thrilling and terrifying. "Of course..." You stuttered, trying to keep your voice steady. "...I'll try and make it."

As soon as the words left your lips, a satisfied smile spread across his face. "The party starts at eight o'clock." He spoke, tilting his head. 

The elevator dinged loudly, signaling that you'd reached the lobby. The doors opened slowly and Declan stepped out of the lift. "I hope to see you there." His accent seemed to make his words sound almost teasing as he said his farewell, and you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks. 

I hope to see you there…

The words echoed through your mind like a mantra.

The doors started to close, blocking him from sight, and it brought you back to reality. You quickly shot your arm out to stop them from shutting and stepped into the lobby, taking a deep breath. 

The party was in full swing, and you arrived in the midst of it all. It was a typical extravagant upper-class party, the house was lit with an array of colorful, sparkling lights. The house was filled, everywhere you looked there was a person.

You caught glimpses of unfamiliar faces, all blending together into a sea of strangers. You took a moment to look around the room, in search of that familiar head of dark chestnut hair. 

The warm ambiance of the room helped ease the tension in your shoulders, and you couldn't help but hope, looking for any sign of Declan, he wasn't a hard man to miss.

Despite the crowd, it didn't seem like Declan was anywhere to be found. You couldn't help but wonder where he was, the thought of spending the night searching for him made you anxious. 

Across the room, leaning against the wall beside his daughter's, was Declan; his arms crossed over his chest as he scanned the room with a watchful eye. His gaze roamed over your figure shamelessly, taking in the way your dress clung to you. 

Your petite frame, the way your skirt hung around your thighs, the length of your hair. There was a shyness, something timid and he fixated on your body, the way your eyes darted around the room.

A loud commotion caused everyone to turn their heads in the direction of the entrance to the living-room. A woman dressed in a bright green dress entered, riding in on a camel?! 

"Jesus christ." Declan said, the sound of his voice drawing you to him.

He stood a few feet away, dressed handsomely, his dark hair slicked back, and a hint of a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. He was wearing a crisp, tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, and a pair of trousers that hugged his muscular legs. The sight of him was almost intoxicating.

The crowd of guests parted as the woman in the vibrant green dress dismounted from the camel. Cheers erupted throughout the room as she stood there victoriously. You watched as people congratulated and welcomed her. 

Your eyes went to Declan, seeing his gaze had already made it back to you. Standing solely amongst the crowd, looking like a mouse in the center of a lion's den. 

He almost looked embarrassed, Declan could feel his shoulders tense in annoyance, a scoff escaping his lips. He hated when Maud did things like this, rightfully so when he was the one paying for it. It was one thing that had initially attracted Declan to her, but now, it felt like an old pony trick. 

He'd never understood her need for attention. There was no doubt in Declan's mind that this party was more for her than it was for their son. She was thriving off it, soaking up every last bit. He clenched his jaw, frustration building within him. 

The night pressed on. The room slowly returned to its normal pace as people continued with their conversations, drinks in hand. 

The guests now mingling together comfortably, the music softer, more gentle. The lights were dimmer now, allowing for a much more intimate setting. 

Declan, stood among the others, and his eyes caught sight of you once more. 

You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked up underneath you. A soft smile appeared on his face as he watched you, unable to take his eyes away. 

You looked up, your eyes meeting his as he approached. "Having fun?" He asked, his deep voice, gravelly and laced with whiskey. 

He gives you a charming smile as he steps closer, his gaze drifting down your figure, pausing at the low plunge of your dress before returning to your face.

Taking a seat next to you, he leaned back, his body turned towards you; his eyes drifting over your figure. 

A sly smile tugged at his lips as he watched you blush under his intense stare. He chuckled gruffly, finding your reaction endearing. The way you tried to hide your bashfulness, but couldn't help the way your body betrayed you.

He noticed the way you fidgeted nervously. It made his heart swell in his chest. He couldn't help but enjoy the effect he had on you, as your cheeks flushing an attractive shade of pink. 

The tips of your ears burned when you realized just how close he was. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him while resisting the urge to look away.

Why the hell was he looking at you like that?

He was older than you, a man of authority and power, and yet, right now he made you feel like a shy schoolgirl with a crush. You couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at you this way, like you were the only person in the room

"I'm glad you decided to come tonight." He spoke low enough that nobody else could hear him but you. His voice rumbled in your ears, and sent a shudder through your body.

His gaze drifted down to your neck, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he watched the chill run down your spine. 

"So am I. Thank you, for inviting me ...and for the booze." 

He continued to look at you, his gaze roaming over you openly without any shame or reservation. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your face. You were a sight to behold in this light, soft skin, wide eyes, it was almost hypnotizing. 

"You look lovely." He hummed, his eyes still wandering over you. His gaze was intense, his voice deep, and velvety. 

You thanked him softly, your breath catching in your throat when you noticed the desire in his burning gaze. His body was pressed up against you; his thighs touching yours, you could feel each breath with the rise and fall of his chest against your arm. 

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, the tension in the air thick. You tried to distract yourself, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes that made you feel like a bird trapped in a cage. 

Your heart rate quickening, and a warmth spreading through your chest. His gaze felt like a physical touch, making your skin tingle. His deep voice rolling off his tongue, the sound was like a low rumble, making your body hum with something you'd never felt before.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, quiet, meant just for you. 

"Y-yes." You managed to stutter, your heart racing. "Quite."

"You looked a bit lost earlier." He chuckled in reply, his eyes never straying.

"Not lost." You confessed, your voice small in the presence of his dominating aura.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, his body almost pressed flush against your shoulder. "Then what?" He asked, his voice now a mere whisper, deep and seductive  

His hand reached out, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch linger for a moment longer than necessary. His fingertips were rough but warm, as he gently brushed the hair behind your ear.

You could feel his hot breath against your neck, his eyes fixed upon you intently, like a man possessed. You tried to maintain a sense of composure, but it was difficult when he was this close to you, his face was inches away from yours.

He was close enough that you could make out every small detail; the indentations in his lips, the faint shadow of stubble around his jawline, the way his eyes seemed to darken with each passing minute.

"I've noticed you've spent most of your evening alone." He began, his lips almost brushing your ear. 

His fingers still playing with the loose locks of your hair, his knuckles just barely grazing your skin. You felt your heart skip a beat at his touch. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment too long, leaving your skin buzzing with electricity. 

He leaned back, his demeanor calm and collected, but a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I haven’t been a very good host, have I?" He said softly, taking a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on you.

For a moment, the room around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this secluded little corner. The sounds of chatter and laughter felt distant, as the world seemed to slow to a halt. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked back at him. He was watching you again, his eyes boring into yours, drinking you in. Your body was alive, your skin burned where it touched his. 

He was older, more experienced, and had a presence that demanded attention. There was something dangerous about him, like a predator stalking its prey. Yet, he was charming and smooth, and there was an undeniable attraction pulling you to him. 

"Declan..." You stuttered, feeling your nerves kicking in.  

His eyes scanned your face, pausing briefly on your lips. His dark eyes seemed to look right through you, and you found yourself unable to pull away from him.

"Just hear me out..." He rushed, his hands getting comfortable as they slid down your hips, but the glimmer of his wedding band on his finger made your stomach sink. 

You stood up quickly, stumbling as your legs adjusted to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed. "No... I-I don't... you're married, Declan."

Declan watched as you stumbled, a look of surprise etched on his features. He stood up quickly, reaching out to catch you, his hands gripping your waist for stability.

He held you like that for a moment, your eyes filled a mix of fear and contemplation. His fingers tightened involuntarily against the softness of your hip. The heat from his touch burned through the fabric of your dress.

"Wait-" He spoke, his voice a deep grumble, almost primal, that made your hairs stand on end.

"Let me go..." You muttered breathlessly, trying to break free from his firm grasp. He held you tighter, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip.

He paused for a moment, his jaw clenching, his eyes flickering down to your trembling lips. He slowly let go of your waist, his hands lingering for a moment before they fell.

He still had you trapped, a few feet from the nearest group of people, the only way out was through him. His breathing was uneven, hot against your face, and the only thing you could hear was your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

"Can we just go somewhere quiet …to talk." His voice was commanding, but laced with desperation. 

You swallowed hard, the thought of being alone with him made your heart skip a beat. 

You gave him a slight nod, and his body turned, angling away from the crowd.

He slowly began making his way through the crowd, his hand resting on your lower back, gently guiding you. 

Everywhere his skin met yours left you burning, his touch sending a wave of fire through you. He led you through the room and into a hallway.

The music and chatter faded as you turned the corner, and suddenly it was just the two of you. 

Declan pushed a door open at the end of the hallway, guiding you into what appeared to be his office. You stood awkwardly for a moment, the room was small but cozy, a desk and a chair were positioned in the corner along with a leather couch.  

The glow of a lone desk lamp illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls - which were covered in framed pictures; various awards, certificates, and one lined in bookshelves.

He leaned his back against the door, and for a long moment he stayed silent, watching you. His eyes were sharp underneath the dim light, his lips parted slightly, before his jaw clenched.

He couldn't keep the desire hidden, he let his eyes roam up and down your body. The way the dress hung on your hips, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the way your hair fell around your face. It was enough to drive him mad. 

He looked relaxed yet on edge. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath. This time there was something different in his eyes, something you couldn't quite place. Still a mixture of desire, and frustration, but something else. 

"You're right. I'm married." He said, his voice firm, almost cold. "And I'm not trying to pretend otherwise." He began, his eyes fixated on your face.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours as he spoke. His hands reach out towards you again. He touched your chin, gently tilting your head back, forcing you to look at him. Your breath shuddered as his touch sent a shiver down your spine. 

Declan's brow was low, making him look almost intimidating, but his eyes remained soft, almost pleading. "I'll just say one thing?"

"It's …complicated ...bird." He spoke slowly, his voice a low rumble. "I can't tell you it's perfect ...but I'll be damned if I don't admit that I want you."

The look in his eyes was fierce, possessive almost. His eyes watched every minute reaction your body had to the way his hands held you. 

He wanted to keep you close, the way you leaned into him made his pulse race. His fingers moved from your hip, slowly trailing down the side of your exposed thigh, his touch was hot.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand glided down your skin, leaving a trail of fire on your flesh. His words echoed in your mind, confusing you and sending your heart racing. You should be outraged, you should be pushing him away. 

Declan's mouth dropped open as you forcibly shoved him away. Your hand sting as it connected with his cheek. 

He stood there for a moment, heart hammering against his chest. His fingers brushing the red mark appearing on his cheek where you'd just struck him.

He looked at you, brow furrowed as his wild eyes searched your face, trying to gauge the situation.

Finally, he spoke from behind his hand. His voice low, almost a whisper. "I'm sorry."

The room was deadly silent, the only thing you could hear was the faint hum of music as your heart pounded heavily in your ears. 

"You're sorry?" You repeated, your voice trembling as you spoke. "You're married, and that's all you have to say?" You said incredulously, your voice shaky. "You're sorry?"

Declan's eyes are glued to yours, a mix of regret, shock and pain etched across his face. He looked almost guilty, his eyes falling to the floor.

Your breathing was heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly, a mix of anger and attraction coursing through you.

This man, this married man, had just told you that he wanted you, had just touched you in a way no man should ever touch a woman who's not his wife, and it sent pleasure through your entire being. 

He winced as you spoke, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. He looked at you with a mixture of remorse and hurt, you knew better, he didn't deserve your sympathy. 

Declan took a deep breath, his eyes flickering back to you. "It's not…" He paused, his voice low and rough. "…that simple." Even still, something about the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it tugged at something deep inside your chest. 

He wearily took a step forwards, reaching ever so slowly to hold you. Only you backed away quickly, trying to put distance between the two of you. 

"That's what they all say." The words come out harsher than you intended, and you watch a flicker of pain in his eyes. 

You stumbled back against the wall as he quickly closed the distance between you. "For god's sake …it's the truth." He breathed, his pleading eyes never straying from yours. 

It was a strange feeling, to feel pity for a man who had just confessed his feelings for you. 

Yet, watching his pained expression, and the way his eyes seemed to implore you, it made your stomach twist. "That's a bit unfair, don't you think?"

Declan's body pressed against yours, trapping you against him. "Fair?" His accent thick as he spoke in a low rumble under his breath, almost like a growl. "You think I give a fuck about fair?"

Declan made the space between you completely non-existent. One hand rested on the wall beside your head, his face inches away from yours. His other moved up to your cheek, fingers tracing the side, before cupping your jaw. 

He could see the hurt, the fear, the confusion. Yet, underneath it all, he could see the heat, the want, the need in your eyes. 

He leaned forwards, his lips hovering just above yours. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. You knew he was wrong, you knew this was wrong, your body betraying you as you fought against yourself. 

His kiss made you feel unsteady. The way his hand tangled in your hair, his arm wrapped around your back kept you close to him, and his firm hold on your hip made your head fuzzy.

You breathed him in, and the soft sound of vanquish that escaped your lips filled him with pride as he savored the flavor of you for the first time.

With a hand pressed firmly against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. The other, clutched at the wrist of his that had drawn you into him.

"You know what's unfair? How much you torture me in this dress. How I've had to hold myself back from pulling you into the nearest room just to rip it off of you ...and you want to talk about being fair?"

Declan gently turned you around, guiding you a few steps backwards until your lower back met the surface of his desk. His lips kept you quiet as you wrestled with the realization of what was happening.

Suddenly, he took you by the shoulders, spun you around, and bent you over the wooden surface. With your arms down at your sides, you felt his presence looming over you, his hands gliding down your back and across your hips.

Standing on your tiptoes, barely grazing the floor, as he pressed himself against you from behind.

You could feel him everywhere; tangling through your hair, delivering a playful smack to your backside that made you gasp, humping against your core as your skirt rose higher and higher.

"There ...now we're even." He hummed teasingly, soothing the sting by gently massaging your heated skin.

You let out a scoff, subconsciously rocking into him. A smirk played on his lips as he slowly sank to his knees.

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your skirt, his strong hands parted your thighs before he pressed his warm mouth against your panty-clad center.

You gasped his name, your back arching as you shot up from the table. Your feet nearly slip out from beneath you, threatening to send you tumbling face-first into the desk.

He stood back up quickly, keeping you from moving anymore. His face crowded your senses, his mouth was wet and hot as he buried it into your cheek.

His hand gripped the nape of your neck, as he swept your disheveled hair to one side. "You like that, birdie? You want my mouth on you, is that it? Need to get off on my tongue before you're wet enough to slip my cock into, hmm?"

Your eyes closed as you tried to take a breath, only that was a mistake.

The subtle scent of alcohol mixed with desire enveloped you; he smelt like sex and temptation.The image of him leaning in to kiss his wife goodnight, the lingering taste of you on his lips, was undeniably provocative. Scandalous and enticing, and yet you felt yourself become even wetter at the thought.

He gently pushed you back down, laying you flat on his desk, the cool wood contrasting with the warmth of your flushed cheek.

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips lingering, before capturing your hands and guiding them to rest beside your thighs at the table's edge.

"Sit still." He whispered softly while trailing down your body, eventually finding himself back on his knees.

His fingers danced along the edge of your panties before gently pulling them aside. Your hips fell limp against the edge of his desk, your knees buckling beneath you. His hot breath fanned across your soaked core.

His slick tongue flattened, delivering a long, tantalizing stroke, before enveloping your cunt with his mouth. His mustache rough against the tender skin of your supple thighs, igniting a searing heat that flowed like molten lava, feeding into the deep ache in your belly.

"ohmygod..." You shrieked, a hand shooting out to grip onto his hair. "Declan!"

You bit down on your lip, trying to suppress the moans that threatened to escape as he eagerly devoured every inch of you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair; you began to tug his mouth off of you, as the overstimulation became almost too much to bear.

He yanked your hands away, pinning them down, crossing your wrist over your lower back, before you felt the slip of his fingers part your wet folds. He pressing them into your entrance.

The combination of both, his fingering and his tongue prodding you open quickly sent you over the edge, and you shuttered against his parted lips. "Please, Declan ...don't stop.”

You cried out his name, as his tongue drank up the mess you made all over his mouth- which remained attentive but gentle, even once your body stopped convulsing, and you could only shiver at the overstimulation.

Standing up as quickly you could on fawn-legs, you spun around to face him. His lips met yours, as his hands found their way to your hips. Bunching up your skirt, he laid you out over his desk.

He pushed you back, his strong hands reaching up, peeling your dress off your shoulders and chest, gripping at every new part of your soft skin he exposed.

Pinning you in place by your neck, he reached down. The pinching and snapping of flimsy fabric felt raw, carnal, against your skin as he tore your panties from your body. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you birdie?"

His hand reached down to undo his belt, you squirmed beneath him, pulling your arms the rest of the way out of your dress. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, despite the anxious shake of your hands, meeting him half-way, after he'd rid himself of his tie.

You pushed his pants down just enough to reach inside and pull out his aching cock, swollen and eager, leaking pearls of translucent pre-cum. Gently thumbing at the tip of him, red hot and slick in your grasp as you coated him in his own release.

His hands reached for you, gripping your hips to help line himself up with your entrance, before taking your face gently in his other. A gasp escaped your lips, as the tip of him brushed against your sensitive clit while he parted your swollen cunt.

He pushed into you eagerly, and the stretch of him filling up you was thrilling. Declan caged you between him and the sturdy desk, his body like a furnace against your skin.

Your hands fell to his chest, dragging the nails of one over his shoulder, and latching onto his muscular back.

A shaky moan slipped from your lips as he delved even deeper, his tip igniting a spot you'd never been able to reach. You could feel every vein and ridge as he pulled back slowly, then dove back in forcefully.

It was tight, the sheer size of him had you second guessing your confidence, yet as the tip of his head grazed your cervix it eased the ache in your lower abdomen. Your heart races at the realization that he has completely ruined you for anyone else.

You flushed, the feeling of his body against yours was too much; the smell of his skin, the way his chest hummed against yours with every groan he released against the crease of your neck, his breath a cloud of spiced whiskey and you.

The hand gripping your hip, tangled in your hair, gently cradling the back of your head as he pressed his wet lips against yours. The pressure of his kiss and the warmth of his breath pulled the air from your lungs, instinctively parting your lips and allowing his tongue to lick into your eager mouth.

The coarse hair of his pelvis brushed against your clit, causing your eyebrows to furrow in delight. "Declan!" His name, a prayer on your lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Shh, Shh, Shh..." You could feel him in your throat. Each thrust was forceful, causing the desk to shake with every merciful connection of your hips.

"Jesus ...you feel so good, birdy. Gripping me so tight, such a good girl." He mumbled breathlessly against your skin.

He couldn't stop himself from gripping onto you tighter, his nails digging into the soft flesh as his hips rut into you over and over, continuing their own steady rhythm, perfectly meeting every one of your thrusts.

The sensation is overwhelmingly intoxicating; it’s a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. You’ve never experienced anything quite like this, intertwining soft cries of bliss with whimpers of overstimulation, creating the most beautiful symphony of pleasure.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders, anchoring you as you fell apart in his hands, your hips moving eagerly, chasing that sweet moment of release.

"You're so well behaved when you finally get some cock in you."You flutter around him, his tongue teasingly tracing your pulse, your walls gripping him tightly too helpless to reply.

A gasp of delight escaped your lips as he, as he continued to abuse your sensitive cunt.

"So warm, and tight ...so good to me when you're getting what you want." He breathed heavily, his thrust remained unwavering.

"Declan, please..."

"What? What is it birdy, use your words." Declan playfully taunted, gently nibbling on your lower lip.

"P-please-oh god! Please d-don't stop ...please, I'm gonna cum."

Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his tousled strands as you drew him down for a searing kiss.

He silenced your moans of pleasure, your cries for him fading away as your body writhed beneath him.

It only took a few moments before he joined you. With a firm grip on your hip, he pulled you closer to him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to tremble.

"You're mine now, birdie ...y'understand that."

© ladywuvly please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

[faghubby]

Eyes wide

I was living in a run down efficiency apartment over a bar. Working the late shift. It was 1am when I turned into the alley that led my appartment door. I saw two men. I thought one was getting mugged at first and ducked behind a dumpster. I peeked to see what was going on. And realized that a it was two men having sex. One man had the other bent over as he fucked him hard. His whole body rocked as the man drove his cock in and out of him. The other man just moaned kept trying to touch his own cock which looked big but with every thrust had to steady himself to keep from falling over.

I had no idea why I couldn't look away it was gay sex. Why was I so drawn to see. I was rooting for the bent over man to touch his cock. So he could cum. When the other grunted pushed the man against the wall. And I guess finished in his ass. The man pulled up his pants and went in the back door of the bar. The other man took a few more minutes. Once he had his pants up. I acted like I had just enter a the alley. Nodding to the man as I passed by. Going up to my appartment. I showered and laid in bed. I couldn't get what I had witnessed out of my head. It aroused me. I was straight, it had been awhile okay over a year but I liked woman. Didn't stop me from jerking off. I fell asleep.

It was hot my fan doing nothing to cool me when I woke the sun high in the afternoon sky. The noises of cars and people flooding in from the open window. I took a shower hoping it would cool me. I dropped the soap and instantly thought of the guy bent over last night. I rocked back and forth trying to grasped my dick which was hard again as water ran over me. I found myself leaning against the wall jerking myself off. Thinking of a man fucking me. I csm so hard my legs buckled and I was kneeling on in my shower as the water turned cold.

I tried to push it out of my mind and made myself a sandwich. It was just about time for work. I headed off to catch the bus. I found myself checking out people. Normally I sat with my head down and my ear buds in. But today I looked around. Imagining thier sex life. Even the old lady I pictured her bent over a table as she took a huge cock from a little old man. I pictured everyone having a huge cock. Or taking a huge cock. What would it be like to get fucked by a huge cock. What the fuck was wrong with me! I just needed to get laid I thought to myself. At work I again kept picturing everyone having sex. I wondered what color underwear the waitress where wearing. But also how big the dishwashers cock was. I kept thinking of secneros of the dishwasher pending over the waitress and fucking them. By the end of the night I pictured it was me he had bent over. I shook it off and went home to my crappy appartment. I was hoping to catch a shoe again as I turned down the alley. Instead I heard the music from the bar and decided to get a drink. I had never been in this bar before. I wasn't a big drinker and when I did it was usually with the guys after work. It wasn't very crowded. The music seemed louder then usual. I went up to the bar.

"Can I get a light beer" I asked. The bartender a man with broad shoulders covered in tattoos. Just nodded. I took my first sip when a large black man. Sat next to me. Their where lots of seats but he sat next to me.

"I got that Bill" he said motioning to my beer. I had never had anyone buy me a drink before.

"Um. Thanks" I said

"No problem" he seemed to sit very close. He seemed amazing I thought. He was also dressed very well.

"Just get off work?" He said with a big toothy smile.

"Yeah live upstairs just stopped in for a cold one" I said making small talk. God this guy was practically on top of me. I thought but didn't move.

"Upstairs well that's convenient" he laughed. Bill set another beer in front of me. I hadn't ordered. I realized I drank the first one fast.

"I never seen your pretty face in here before" this man whispered in my ear.

"What?" I stood and stepped back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so forward. Names Alex" he said extending his hand. I shook it and looked around. I noticed two men dancing actually there where no woman man couples. This was a gay bar?.

"I think I am the wrong bar" I said.

"Are you sure?" The Alex's hand slid up my leg and gropped my crotch. I was rock hard. "Calm down have another drink"

I swallowed hard and Alex ordered me a shot. I sat there quietly as his hand rubbed my crotch. He shifted getting even closer. His mouth to my ear.

"You are awful excited" He whispered as I drank my shot he ordered me another.

"Want to shoe me your place upstairs?" He said he nibbled on my ear. "I'll be gentle since it's your first time" he said then he kissed me. His tounge parted my lips and he held me in his arms as he seemed to suck out my soul. He paid the bill and led me out the back door. I motioned towards the door going upstairs. He took my keys and unlocked it. His one hand now inside my shirt rubbing my nipples.

He stripped as soon as the door closed. I just sat on the bed. I didn't want this. I should throw him out. He pulled down his pants and boxers in one motion. I was in awe over the size of his manhood. E laid in bad next to me. Pulling off my shirt he kissed my neck, chest, nibbled on my nipples and kissed my stomach. Then stopped and leaned back. I sensed he wanted me to do the same. So I did. His muscles where so well defined I found my fingers tracing them as I kissed him all over. When I got to his stomach I was staring at his cock. It was big. Well bigger I guess.

"Are you going to fuck me?" I asked shaking.

"Yes, that's what you want isn't it?" Alex said. I kissed down kissing his cock. I did everything I could remember from porn and the few times a girl had ever put my dick her mouth. I licked and kissed down to his balls then licked his balls. I just went with it taking one ball in my mouth then the other. Then back to licking the shaft. He had grown even harder. As I took the head in my mouth. He had me stop only long enough to remove my pants. Then postioned me so he could lube my ass as I continued to suck his cock. He found the Vaseline I used to jerk off. And worked his fingers into my ass.

The more he worked my ass the more I enjoyed playing with his cock. I had no idea what else to do when he lifted me up and held me over hos cock. I held his cock to my ass. And he slowly let me down. I held myself I liked the pressure his cock provided to my hole then suddenly it gave way. And the tip of his cock slid in. Pain shot thru me but also pleasure as I came all over his chest at the same time. I let him keep sliding inside of me ignoring the discomfort and focusing on the pleasure. I started to ride hos cock. I leaned down into his cheat lifting my ass to fuck him. I kissed his chest tasting my own cum as I did. After a few minutes I started to cramp. Alex rolled me over never pulling out of me and fucked me. With such force the bed collapsed. He didn't even slow down. I came a second time all over our stomachs before he filled me with his load. Alex got up to leave. I begged him to stay. Even sucking his cock again even after it had been in my ass. But I didn't even manage to make him hard.

I went back to the bar every night for a week no Alex. Another man hit on me but I wanted Alex. I needed him. I laid in my bed one night when there was a knock on the door. It was late.

"Who is it?" I asked scared from behind the door.

"Alex" he replied I opened the door and jumped into his arms. Alex traveled alot. So every few days. Sometimes weeks he would just surprise me. We fucked all night. I had learned to suck his cock properly but almost drowned the first time he came in my mouth.

He started to send me presents. Flowers as if I was his girlfriend. I was sort of I thought. I only came when he fucked me. He never touched my dick. I was his girl. I had no reservation that I was gay. As I thought back maybe I always was. It had been going on for months we never went out just fucked. At his place which was awesome. Or my little shit hole. I had not noticed the changes in my behavior. Until I asked Alex why we never went out.

"Paul, I love you. But I work alot oversees. Countries where being gay will get you in prison or dead." He told me.

"So we could be friends different rooms" I told him.

"Paul, your hips swing like you need a cock. You flirt and act like a girl half the time" he laughed.

He then hugged me"you are my girl" he told me. While he was away again I did some research. And a bit of online shopping. I bought myself some sexy lingerie and removed my body hair. I would make myself into a woman for him. I tried to do my hair and makeup but failed. So when he called and told me he would be home tomorrow. I confessed everything to one of the waitress. At work. We where friends I guess. She loved the idea of a makeover and helped me learn to style my hair. Even though she loaned me a wig instead. She also loaned me a form fitting dress that barely covered my lacy panties. She added a padded bra with some tissues. I went to surprise Alex at his apartment. He opened the door and was not alone.

"PAULA! what a nice surprise" he said shocked. But invited me in with a worried look. He introduced me as his girlfriend to two men both named Mohammed. I slipped into the other room why they spoke business. After they left Alex came in a bit mad but also excited to see me. I wanted hin to throw me on the bed. But he insisted on taking me to dinner. I felt my shoes where wrong but I couldn't walk in heels yet.

Twice Alex held his jacket in front of me to hide my excitement. When we got back to his place he asked me to move in. If I was willing to live as a woman forever. I agreed. Then we the wildest sex. Alex only had one issue. My inability to stop getting excited. He solved that quickly by placing me in a tiny chastity cage. At first he would let me out when we had sex. Then less and less. He bought me clothes. Jewelry, makeup,perfume. Any thing and everything. He told me what to wear. He liked me slutty. But not around clients then I was class. I learned to act more like a woman.

Its been 5 years. And he is taking me to Italy for our anniversary

[kitweewoos]

safe and sound

There was a mouse in Tommy's house, and he couldn't sleep. He was so tired, but every time he closed his eyes, he swore he could hear tiny squeaking and little scratching in the walls. He had to eliminate it. He laid out a series of traps, and he waited for the tell-tale snap of victory.

Except Evan was due over for the night - and arrived earlier than he expected. He whistled as he pushed through the front door to find Tommy on his knees in the middle of the living room floor with his ear to the ground, probably looking more than a little insane.

"What are you doing?" Evan asked lightly.

"Uh, there's a mouse."

"Oh-kay, and that means you're ass up in the living room why?"

"I'm trying to find where it keeps running off to, so I can set a trap, and it can stop tormenting me with it's little gnawing and squeaking every time I close my eyes."

Evan blinked at him and then set his bag down on the coffee table.

"Okay, where are your traps?" Evan asked.

"Garage," Tommy said, and he stood up to dust himself off, and then showed Evan to the garage where he kept the spare mouse traps. He had a few, not nearly enough, but if they were laid out right, he didn't need an army.

Except Evan frowned.

"You have the kill traps," he stated and looked at Tommy as if Tommy had done something awful. "You shouldn't use those. Those are inhumane."

Tommy blinked, surprised at the sudden seriousness in Evan's tone.

"I want the mice out of my house," he replied.

"Yeah, but the poison traps, first of all, can harm pets and kids, it can harm local wildlife like foxes, birds of prey and other predators, and it can do damage to water sources and soil if they go and die there. Overall, bad. And then the snap traps, sometimes they don't die right away, and they're left there to suffer as they die. It sucks. No, we're getting some catch and release traps."

It was Tommy's turn to frown and he murmured, "and they'll be gone?"

"Tommy," Evan said, stepping up to him and taking him by the hips gently, "are you afraid of mice?"

"No!"

"Thomas, are you?"

He sighed and looked at Evan before he said, "maybe. It's just - I used to live in this really rundown house with rodents everywhere, and I woke up multiple times with rats or mice just scurrying around my room, one time on my bed. It was - it was awful. So, yeah. I am."

"Okay," Evan said, and he squeezed Tommy's hips so softly. "Okay, baby, that's alright. I get it. That must've been really awful, and I'm so sorry you went through that. Let's get some non-lethal traps, though, and we can relocate these little guys into a place they'll love and they won't try and come back. We show them a little bit of kindness, and maybe if I can share some little facts about mice with you, they won't seem so scary. How's that sound?"

Tommy looked at Evan, at his earnest eyes, his sweet expression, and the lack of judgement in his face.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you, Evan."

"Don't even worry about it, baby, I've got you. Now, let's get these thrown out, and we can order those non-lethal traps to be delivered. I'll set them out and check them every day, I'll take care of it. You don't have to worry about anything."

"There's traps already laid out, too, and I can show you where I put those out," he admitted.

"Thank you," Evan said.

Tommy smiled, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Evan's. It was the first time he'd ever been honest with someone about his childhood fear, but he knew he could trust Evan with it beyond anyone else.

"C'mon, Tommy," Evan said softly, walking him backwards into the house, "let's make your home feel safe again."

[moon-child-goddess]

Unspoken

College a/u Mattheo x fem reader

Summery: At a party Mattheo and reader flirt all night and a game of Truth or dare bring them together.  

Warnings: Flirting , All characters are 18 plus, Mentions of drinking, language, Blythe does say she wants have readers baby, let me know if there are others,

A/N: Blythe is a made-up friend for this.

The small ‘hangout’ had quickly turned into a full-blown party. There was over 40 people crammed into the house. Music was blaring so loudly it could be heard form down the road. The neighbors were definitely going to love that.

It took me a moment to push my way through the packed entry, dodging couples that were making out with no care in the world.  I scanned the crowd for anyone in my friend group, my eyes finally landed on him- Mattheo. He was leaning casually against the living room wall, dressed in all black, and a beer bottle swinging lazily between his fingers. He hadn’t noticed me yet. His Brown eyes searched the room as if looking for something, or rather someone.

My lips tugged up at the corners, and without hesitation I made my way through the crowd. My eyes never left his figure. I willed him to feel my gaze and look at me.  

It worked. His eyes met mine, and just like that, he kicked off the wall, his gaze locked in to mine. He pushed through the crowd with an effortless confidence, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles once he reached me.

“I need a drink if I am going to survive this.”  I yelled over the music, my voice a little breathless.

It was true; there were way too many people for my comfort, and I had only agreed to come because I was told it would be a gathering of 15 people.

Without a word, he nodded, his hand grabbing mine as he led the way to the kitchen. The air between us was heavy with unspoken words. He took a bottle off the counter and started pouring a drink. The soft clink of his rings against the glass was oddly soothing.  I jumped up and sat on the counter next to him.

Once he finished, he handed me the half-full red Solo cup, his fingers lingering on mine a beat longer than necessary. My breath hitched.

“Thank you,” I murmured, lifting the cup to my lips. The burn of the alcohol was immediate, but it didn’t distract me from the way he was looking at me, that sly smile still on his lips.

“Almost didn’t think you were coming, beautiful,” he said, his voice low, his arms crossed as he stood in front of me, showing off those toned muscles under his dark shirt. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.

“And miss out seeing you? Never.”  I teased taking another sip of the drink, my eyes never straying from his.

His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a fraction, closing the space between us. His hands rested on the edge of the counter, his fingers grazing my thighs. I could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, now that you are here, the night just got a lot more interesting.” He whispered pupils dilating.

There was so much eye contact.

I blushed, chewing on my lip again as I fought the growing heat spreading through me. Our faces had gravitated closer now, one small move and there would be no gap. I stared at him in awe, unable to speak.

“Careful,” He breathed, his voice coming out as a raspy whisper.” Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you’ve got other intentions.”

His eyes glimmered with mischief. A wink following.

Just as I was about to respond, a loud shout of my name broke the moment.

“Y/N!” it was Blythe, clumsily stumbling into the kitchen with Luna close behind. Both of them were clearly tipsy. Mattheo pulled away stiffly, standing straight up.

I slipped off the counter, Mattheo took another step back not moving to far away. His eyes stayed on me as I greeted my friends, his presence lingering. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance back at him, my heart pounding in my chest. He was so beautiful.

“I will catch you later?”  His voice was low, tinged with a hint of impatience, but there was something else in his eyes—something a little more possessive.

I nodded maybe a little to eagerly. There was no way I wasn’t finding him later. Being around him was addictive. At this point we were a will they or wont they get together game.

His lips curved into a pleased smile before he turned back to the crowd. I shot my friends a scathing glare, which only made them giggle.

“Sorry. I didn’t know it was him.” Luna uttered an apologetic look on her face.  

I finished the rest of my drink in one go, ignoring the burn as I tossed the empty cup in the trash. Blythe looped her arm through mine, practically bouncing with excitement.

my cup before tossing it in the trash.  Blythe looped her arm around mine leaning into me.  She was smiling at me her perfect teeth on full display.

“Did he kiss you?” She asked with a tasing grin. There was a curious look in her eyes.

“No.” I mumbled, throwing my head back in irritation.

Reluctantly I followed her as she dragged me to the dance floor, but my mind stayed with him. Even in the midst of dancing, I couldn’t stop thinking about the small moments, those fleeting touches, the intensity of his gaze. He was too much, and yet, I couldn’t get enough.

An hour had passed, and eventually Theo herded the three of us to the study. Most of our group was gathered there sitting on chairs, couches and the floor. I plopped down on the couch next to Mattheo, and he immediately draped his arm over my shoulders. The movement was so smooth as is it was an everyday occurrence.

“Having fun?” He tilted his head to look at me better, his voice soft.

“Yeah.” I whispered.

My pulse began thudding in my ears.

“Good. How much have you had to drink?” He was always like this at parties, looking after me and worrying about how it was doing.

“Just the cup you gave me and half of Lunas beer.”  

He looked pleased at my answer.   

“I’m bored let’s play a stupid party game.” Enzo called out from the floor.

“Seven minutes?” A random person suggested.

There was a chorus of groans from everyone else. Mattheo’s arm around me tightened pulling me into his side. His jaw ticked, a clear sign of his frustration.

“Ok, how about truth or dare?” Theo grinned at the idea.

Murmurs of agreement passed through the group. Everyone shuffled into a sad circle, leaving Mattheo and I on the couch together. His fingers weaved through my hair absentmindedly as we watched the game begin.

The game began with Theo and Enzo.  

“I dare you to do 20 pushups while Pansy sits on your back.” Theo looked proud at his dare.

Enzo grinned his cocky confidence showing through.

“Easy.”  He set his drink aside standing up.

Once he was in position, Pansy sat down. The room chanted out numbers with each one he did. When he failed at the 15th one the room erupted in laughter. It was unlike him to fail that quickly; he was strong from years of playing rugby.

“It’s ok you are drunk.” Pansy tried to comfort him as she sat back down in her spot.  

Enzo stared at her a ghost a smile on his face.

They were cute- too cute. I almost threw up in my mouth I was envious of their love.

The game continued, nothing too serious, just rounds of lighthearted dares. At some point, Mattheo started to play with my fingers. It was mindless, but it made my heart stutter. There was no denying the more time I spent with him the more I wanted him. And he had to of known it.

When it was Luna’s turn, she wiggled her eyebrows staring down Blythe. She was totally up to no good.

“Truth or dare Blythe?”

“Truth.” Blythe’s accent slipped out thicker then usual.

Luna’s smile widened. “Fuck, marry, and have their baby, pick from this group.”

The room erupted in a chorus of teasing ‘oohs,’ but I could barely focus on it. My gaze flicked to Mattheo, whose eyes were already on me, his lips curling into that infuriatingly smooth smirk.

Blythe paused tapping her knee, pretending to think. “I’d sleep with you, marry Vis, and I’d want to have Y/N’s baby.” She lifted a finger with each answer.

“Damn right you would. Our baby would be so hot.”  I winked at her.  

Mattheo let out a loud laugh shaking me in the process.  His laugh lightened my soul. It was unlike anything I had ever heard.

“Y/N.” Theo looked at me clearly amused with whatever he had in mind.

I sighed inwardly letting out a groan. “Oh no.”

“Truth.” I was quick to say, yearning to disappear for a second.

“You are no fun! Are you secretly dating someone here?” His question hung in the air as I stuttered. Everyone’s expecting look were on me- on us.

A heavy silence followed. I had to swallow the lump in my throat before answering. My voice came out shaky.

“No.”

They didn’t believe me. I got a lot of side eye looks. But Mattheo and I hadn’t happened in the way they were thinking or imaging.

It was getting late, and I could feel the exhaustion settling in my bones. I needed out.

“I’m going to walk back to my dorm,” I announced, stretching my arms shaking them out they felt heavy.

Mattheo’s hand grabbed on to mine. “Let me walk you?” His voice was soft but insistent.

“Every princess needs a knight in shining armor to escort her,” I teased, my fingers brushing his as I pulled my hand back, so I could fix my top.

We walked mostly in silence, the occasional quip or flirty comment spoken to each other. As some point he draped his hoodie over my shoulders, the fabric was warm and smelled like him. It was as intoxicating as his touch.

We cut through a field, swinging our hands moving forward in silence.

“Truth or dare?” His voice was low, like he was preparing to do something important.

I raised a surprised eyebrow at the randomness of the question. “What? The game ended.”  

“Truth or dare?” He repeated not giving away anything he was up to, but his tone remained playful.

“Umm truth… I guess?”  

“Is this all in my head, or is there something here?”  the question was quiet and uncertain.

My breath hitched. The world seemed to stop. Was he asking what I think he was asking me. For a moment I couldn’t form words, there was no point in lying. Not now.

“It’s not in your head.”  I met his brown eyes as I spoke.

The expression on his face relaxed, pupils dilating. I reached my hand out to him silently asking him to take it.

“Truth or dare?” I asked.

I had butterflies in my stomach.  Why was I so nervous?

“Dare.” Mattheo’s answer came instantly.

I know exactly what he was expecting me to say, so I pretended to think for a moment tapping my chin. “I dare you to jump three times.”   

“Oh yeah?” He lifted one of his eyebrows fighting a smile. “I can think of a better dare.”

We were standing so close now. Our toes touching.  The confidence rolling off him was driving me insane. Here I was a nervous wreck, and he stood there confident as ever. As if he stood in the middle of a field waiting for a girl to profess their undying love for him every Saturday night.

“Oh, Can you now?” I was laying on the flirtatious tone thick, moving my hands over his shoulders. “And what would that be?”

“I dare you to kiss me.”  His words were a husky whisper.   

And before I could over think it, I stood on my tiptoes, closing the distance between us. The world faded for a moment, and it was just us, this kiss deep and slow. A promise to our future.

[sapphe-ire]

Too Long~

i've been on a zoro hyperfixation train for many days [maybe months but i won't admit it] and i just HAD to write this...i might make a sort of part 2 for this if someone asks

Warning: cunnilingus, public [not in front of anyone], riskyyyy, slight angst, 'pussy' and 'clit' used

[1K]

O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X

You look upon the bright, bubbly island, the sun shining onto your face as you find your way to the bar in the most discrete path you can follow. You show up to the door, nerves plaguing you as it did even days before this moment. taking in the deepest breath you can muster, you open the door and step in, eyes taking a second to adjust to the weak lighting.

As soon as your eyes familiarise themselves with the sudden lack of blinding sunlight, you notice a familiar green, mossy head of hair inside. drinking at the bar, Shakky and Rayleigh nowhere in sight, you see the one person you’ve been anxious to see for the past two years aside from your captain. your heart and soul do somersaults, backflips and cartwheels once you really take in his appearance.

the slight change in hair length, his large shoulders that are somehow broader, all of it as dazzling to you as when you first truly observed him. Once he turned around, there was even more of a surprise when the first thing that catches your eye is his large pecs on display as well as his chest scar and the scar over his left eye. You were immediately concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to move.

All the detrimental thoughts that were present those couple of years ago reared its grim head once more, the fleet of thoughts shackling your feet to the floor. ‘Does he still hate me?’ ‘Is he still mad?’ ‘how will he react?’ ‘what if i have to leave the crew?’

Finally….they stopped. As much as you loved the silence within your own mind, the static was accompanied by the ‘fight or flight’ mechanism that took root as he stood up and stalked over to you, intimidating form getting closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. He looks down at you stoically and you can't tell if he’s angry or just observing you.

As much as your body screamed to stomp on the wooden floor so hard that you fall into hell, you smile up at him a little. “H-hey, zo.” your voice trembles and you hoped maybe the devil would come for you himself. “You changed” his deep voice rumbled, bouncing off the walls and back to you 20 times more powerful.

“I mean…i got some muscle but-” you’re caught completely off guard by the heavy kiss planted on your lips. For a second you thought ‘who just kisses someone out of the blue after not seeing them for two years?!’ but when you realise that it really had been two years, two years of no form of communication after what happened between you two, you didn't care.

You melt into the kiss with no further questioning, kissing back just as messily as he was kissing you. He pushes you against the now closed door and lifts his hand to your waist, squeezing hard enough to elicit a whimper from you. Suddenly he pulls back and takes your arm, pulling you out of the bar before your brain can even catch up to the sudden change in pace.

“Wh-...where are we going?” you ask and he responds almost instantly, “away. need to taste you.”

Zoro was always blunt and impatient, never leaving room for argument, so you stay quiet and follow, not like you wanted to rebel regardless.

you trot behind him as he pulls you into the tall numbered forest, making sure to keep track of where you were going since you know he'd be of no help once you have to get out. He stops at tree number 23 and once more, pushes you against it, attacking your neck with harsh and hot kisses and bites. It immediately evokes a soft moan from you and you lace your fingers in his short green hair.

“You taste like sea breeze and sweat…” he all but growled, already pushing his big hands past your waistband. You can only let out sounds of pleasure as his lips move to your hips, nipping at the skin while he makes work of pulling down your skirt. You take his hands in yours, calming your breathing to ask him what he was doing. Responding without hesitation he says, “didn’t i say i needed to taste you? I see you still haven't learned to listen” he goes back nibbling on your skin, this time on your sensitive thighs, causing you to whimper slightly.

You decided to just let him do his thing and hope you two don’t get caught. He kisses and bites at your thighs, pulling your skirt down and spreading your legs. As much as you tried to be quiet, not even god could stop the slutty whimper and moan that he worms out of you when he leans in to smell and lick your arousal through your underwear, growling afterward and tearing your underwear off to attack your clit with a harsh and impatient suck.

You throw your head back and grab the hair at the top of his head, “oh shit, zoro~” you moan, his tongue making good work of eating you out. But even through your pleasure, you needed a bit of closure. “So….y-you’re not mad~?” 

After you ask, he delivers a particularly harsh suck of your clit, grabbing your ass hard and speaking into your pussy, “‘course i am…but i missed this…” he licks a long stripe down to your slit, “i missed you” he eats you out fervently, tongue reaching deep inside you. “But-” you start, but immediately get cut off, “stop talking and just moan f’me…let me hear those pretty sounds”

You opt it would be better to obey and just revel in the pleasure his skilled mouth offers. You grip his hair tighter and throw your head back once more, closing your eyes so you can only feel his mouth and his large hands on you without sparing a thought to anything else.

The pressure in your core builds up and one specific insert of his tongue has you curling against the tree, orgasm pulled out of you and right onto his awaiting tongue. He laps up your orgasm, his own hard on pushing against the confines of his pants, begging for the same. 

“So….forgive me for sleeping with sanji?” you smile a bit, breathing a bit heavy and beginning to pull up your clothes so you can get on your knees and help his raging hard-on. He grumbles and rolls his eyes…well…eye, “not yet, you have a lot of making up to do. No-” before he could continue you both here “OOOIIIIII!” from the distance. When you both peek around the tree, luffy and most of the crew are running from a large group of marines.

You chuckle at the sight and turn back to zoro, “we can continue this on the sunny, right?” you smirk. He scoffs and already begins going off in the opposite direction of where the sunny was left last. Pulling him back, you two join the rest of the crew in running, though all that occupied your mind was the anticipated events that are soon to come

O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X

[valentinoappreciator]

There's a First Time for Everything

A quick little drabble I put together after seeing the cutest radiostatic fanart <3 I haven't written for these two disasters before, so please forgive me, and don't be meanies about it ;v;

The post with the fanart can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/byrdnight/768971048708374529?source=share Credit for the idea goes to @byrdnight, tagging you so you can read it as well :D

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Alastor x Vox

Rating: M for Mature (nothing explicit, only a few references to actual nsfw stuff)

Word count: 2.8k

Tags included but not limited to: Established RadioStatic, implied / referenced Valastor, implied / referenced StaticMoth, light kissing, ice skating, first time ice skating, light angst???, but so much fluff to make up for that

Where else to read: AO3. Username: TheWeirdDane. Title: There's a First Time for Everything

Author's note: First time writing for these two, but I couldn't help myself after seeing the art <3 I hope it's to everybody's liking!

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

Dainty, white flakes drifted lazily through the crisp, cold air. Both were, of course, artificially created; things weren’t so fucked that Hell had frozen over yet. That didn’t take away from Vox’s almost childlike wonder at the snow, though. Alastor hummed softly and looked up into the red sky. 

“Are you about ready?” he asked with an aura of exasperation before turning his head to Vox, who was busy tying his skates. 

“Yeah yeah yeah, give me a moment,” Vox replied, tongue poking slightly out of his mouth, “these shoelaces are being annoying.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. 

“Well, you’ve got that in common.”

“Oh ouch,” Vox said flatly as he tied a knot on the skates’ laces and then stood up, turning to Alastor with an outstretched hand. 

“Well?” he said, and was surprised to see Alastor’s fluffy ears flatten against his head and Alastor turn a bit away from him. Vox frowned slightly, before figuring that Alastor maybe didn’t want to risk being seen with him in public like this. Well, he really should have thought about that before agreeing to go to the ice rink with him!

“Look,” Vox sighed, “if you changed your mind, you could’ve just told me so.”

“Would it have changed things?”

“Of course not. Now, come on, get on your feet and get out there.”

Alastor scowled up at him, refusing to take his hand. He crossed his legs and his arms, clinging to his microphone stand. Now it was Vox’s time to roll his eyes. 

“If you’re going to be a big baby about it, you can sulk in silence,” he muttered and pushed himself away from the rink’s half-walls to glide onto the ice. 

The cold air brushed against his face, and Vox took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and let the breath out just as slowly. Oh, how he had missed this from his childhood! He vividly remembered going to the ice rinks with his mother and father. Remembered the excitement, the way he barely had to put effort into moving, the way his parents looked at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. Beaming, full of admiration. 

Like they thought he could get far with his ice skating skills. It was a wonderful memory. 

Vox kept his eyes closed for a couple of seconds, leaning full-tilt into the warmth of the memory. It was only him and Alastor here, after all, there was quite literally no risk of bumping into anyone non-important and cutting off their ankles. Unfortunately. It was an ice rink only for the absolute elite. Only for the most powerful of Overlords. 

He put one foot in front of the other and pushed the slightest bit, easily and smoothly gliding forward. Rinse and repeat. 

When Vox opened his eyes, feeling like all the passion of the Sun was glittering in them, he found Alastor, still sitting on the bench, still with his limbs crossed, still clutching his stupid microphone stand. But, as opposed to before, he was now watching Vox curiously, his ears perked. He caught Vox staring at him, and promptly looked up into the sky again. 

Vox rolled his eyes again before nimbly switching course, sliding towards Alastor with his hands behind his back. 

“What is it, Bambi? Afraid you’ll slip and fall on the ice?” he grinned and slid to a stop in front of him, shredding a bit of ice that landed on Alastor’s black pants. Alastor looked at him with as much disapproval as he could, which was a lot.

“Oh come on, Alastor,” Vox groaned and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him up. But Alastor was stubborn as a mule and didn’t budge. “What’s your fucking damage? I asked if you wanted to go to the ice rink with me, and you agreed. Now you won’t--- you haven’t even put on the skates?”

Alastor glared up at him, his ears flat against his head once more. He huffed and turned his head away from Vox. Vox groaned loudly and shook his head, both hands on his hips. 

“Should’ve fucking guessed,” he grumbled. “You really are just a big coward. You never try anything new and fun.” 

“Valentino begs to differ.”

“Fucking excuse me?” Vox hissed between gritted teeth, lifting one leg and slamming the skate’s blade down into the wooden bench so that he could lean down into Alastor’s personal bubble. He didn’t care if the blade got dulled from the action; he needed to know what the fuck Alastor’s problem was. 

Alastor growled quietly, pressing himself back against the bench as his ears went completely flat against his head. 

“I know Val fucks you regularly, so why are you acting like there’s a massive fucking stick up your ass? If you didn’t want to do ice skating with me, you could’ve just said so!”

“It’s not because it’s with you,” Alastor snapped back, clearly surprised by his own words. Vox blinked in surprise, but the fiery annoyance in his chest wasn’t dying down. 

“Then, pray fucking tell, what is it? Because you’re acting like a total prick right now.”

Alastor looked away for so long that Vox was tempted to push away again. Then The Radio Demon mumbled something. Mumbled. Not speaking loud and clear. Vox had to even look at his lips moving to make sure he was speaking. 

“I don’t want to look like a fool.”

“There’s no one here but us,” Vox said irritably, gesturing to the completely empty ice rink. Alastor seemed to kind of curl in on himself, as he sat there on the bench. He hid his lower face in his scarf. 

“I’m quite aware of that.”

Vox glared at Alastor, about to yell at him some more, when he had an epiphany. 

Wait... 

“Wait,” he said slowly, drawing out the word and watching how Alastor winced, “are you... afraid of looking stupid in front of... me?”

This got Alastor to glare back at him, ire in his eyes. Vox blinked down at him, utterly perplexed. Well, this was new. Usually, Alastor was so suave and nonchalant, so this came completely from left field. 

“But... I’m your boyfriend.”

“I’m quite aware, regrettably,” Alastor scoffed. 

Vox rolled his eyes once more. 

“I mean, you idiot, that you shouldn’t have to worry about looking stupid in front of me because we’re dating. I don’t care if you look stupid. You’re the prettiest motherfucker around.”

A beat of silence. Alastor blushed slightly. Vox cleared his throat. 

“Maybe don’t mention that to Val, though.”

Alastor was quiet, and Vox sighed. Despite the many layers of clothing, he was starting to get a bit chilly. 

“Look, Al. Just... I don’t care about looking stupid. Not when it’s you. My brand is perfection, but I’m not working right now, am I?”

“In those clothes? I certainly hope not.”

Vox pretended not to have heard him. 

“So just, please, relax. Put on the skates and join me out on the ice, please?”

Alastor glanced up at him as he dug his skate out of the bench. 

“I have never done this before,” he then revealed, again in a low mumble. 

Somehow, for some reason, this made Vox smile. A genuine, warm smile. The fire that had once been one of annoyance now became one of fondness, but he would be double-damned before he admitted that. Alastor was... willing to do this with him? Something he hadn’t tried before? Even if it made him look ridiculous? As far as Vox was concerned, there was no greater declaration of love. 

“That’s okay,” he said softly and cupped Alastor’s cheeks with his hands, the claws gingerly scratching through his hair. “We’ll take it slow. I’m a good teacher.”

Alastor huffed, but couldn’t run from the blush on his face. Vox smirked. 

“Now now, no salacious thoughts, young man.”

Alastor’s face went beet red, and Vox laughed gently. 

“I’m kidding. Come.” 

He pulled back and grabbed Alastor’s skates lying next to him before starting to kneel. 

“Please?”

Alastor was quiet for a long moment. Then he sighed deeply, rolling his eyes and putting his usual face back on. His legs uncrossed, and he bent down to take off his shoes. 

“Do you even beg this much for Valentino?” he asked jokingly. Vox grinned. 

“Only when he’s being extra insidious.” This got a warm and heart-felt chuckle out of Alastor, who proceeded to take off his shoes and replace them with the red-and-black ice skates in Vox’s hands. Vox tied them for him in silence. 

When the laces were done up and tied with a pretty knot at the top, Vox stood up without so much as a wobble. He reached his hands out to Alastor, who seemed to regret this whole thing, but nonetheless put his own hands in Vox’s. 

“I’m gonna pull now,” Vox warned, and tugged gently. Alastor followed, immediately wobbling and clinging to Vox. 

Vox would have been a lying bastard if he said he didn’t like it. Not that he couldn’t live with being accused of being a lying bastard. He had been called much worse, and much more accurate, things through the years. 

Alastor was wonderfully warm against him. He smelled nice, too. Well, Vox had to hand it to Valentino, the pimp had an uncanny ability to get people to present themself as nicely as they could. For Alastor, that meant taking actual regular showers and using cologne. He still hadn’t learned how to use a comb or a brush, though. 

“This was a mistake,” he hissed, ears flat and eyes closed tightly.

“Calm down,” Vox said soothingly and straightened, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Easy. Easy does it. Stand up straight. You can hold on to me if you need to.”

Alastor did need to hold on to Vox as he slowly, very slowly, stood up straight. His hands had an iron grip on Vox’s arms. In turn, Vox gently held Alastor. They stood like that for a little while. 

“There you go, that’s a good posture!” he praised, noting the flush going across Alastor’s face and filing this away for later blackmailing purposes. “Now, I’m going to go backwards, okay? You keep holding on to me.”

“No, no no!” Alastor yelped as Vox slid backwards a bit, forcing Alastor to move. 

“It’s okay, you’re doing great. It’s okay.”

He kept his gaze firmly locked on Alastor as he scooted further back. There was something almost akin to panic in Alastor’s eyes as they held Vox’s gaze, but Vox did his best to be calm and reassuring and soothing. Eventually, it had to rub off on Alastor. 

“See? You’re doing great!” he praised again after having moved a few feet and Alastor was still standing. Wobbling and uncertain, but standing nonetheless. 

“Shut up,” Alastor hissed, looking like someone spending all of his energy focusing on staying standing. His cheeks were burning red, his eyes wide open, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. I’m being serious, believe it or not.”

They continued like that for a little while; Vox skating backwards and forcing Alastor to move as well. It was utterly clumsy and without elegance or grace, but Vox didn’t care. He was just happy - thrilled - that he got to do this with Alastor. 

As they went, Vox gave him tips and advice on how to move his feet and how to keep his posture. He wasn’t sure how much of it he retained, but he could see improvement after just a couple of rounds on the ice rink. He made sure to let Alastor know that his posture was improving and that his steps seemed to become more confident. Alastor glared at him, but Vox liked to think it was all a façade. 

Not that it mattered all that much, though. He got to be close to Alastor, didn’t he? And really, wasn’t that the stuff dreams were made of? 

“Okay, Al, you’re doing really great now. I feel confident in letting---”

“You are not letting go,” Alastor hissed immediately, clinging even harder to Vox’s arms, to the point that Vox had to stop himself from wincing. 

“You’ll be fine,” he promised.

“Vox, no,” Alastor continued, “you are not letting go so soon, you slimy little---”

“I’ll cut you a deal.”

“...” His ears perked adorably. 

“If you fall on your pretty ass, which I know you won’t, I will refrain from being smug and snarky about my superiority for a whole weekend at a time of your choosing.”

“You’re not superior, though.”

Vox rolled his eyes. 

“Look, do you want me to hold on or not?” 

“Do you want me to bully you around and prove how you’re inferior to me?” Alastor retaliated, even as he hesitantly loosened his grip on Vox's forearms. Now it was Vox’s turn to blush, but he played it cool with a little scoff. 

“As if you could.”

They glared at each other for a moment before Alastor let go of Vox’s sleeves. Very slowly, and very hesitantly, until they were only connected by Vox’s fingertips on Alastor’s hands. 

“Okay?” Vox asked, looking at Alastor.

He took a shuddering breath but nodded all the same, and Vox was filled with a bizarre kind of glee. Seeing The Radio Demon scared was a sight reserved for... hell, he couldn’t think of anyone who had seen Alastor nervous, let alone scared. Well, seen and lived to tell the tale. 

“Okay.”

Vox skated back a few feet, but remained within grabbing distance. Just in case.

Alastor’s knees wobbled, and he flailed wildly with his arms. Vox instinctively reached for him, but he managed to stand upright. Mostly. Well, somewhat. And, when Alastor got his knees under control, and the arm-flailing stopped, and he stood there, completely still, without help, Vox grinned widely at him. Alastor’s eyes were closed tightly. 

“See? I told you you could do it!” 

Alastor opened his eyes and looked around, then at Vox. His heart swelled with the thrilled surprise in his gaze. For just a moment, in this precise moment, Vox could feel his own childlike excitement at doing something all by himself when he had been but a kid. 

“You’re doing great, Al,” he said. Then he gestured to himself, waving a hand. “Now, come on, come to me.”

“Not happening,” Alastor said immediately. “I can’t move ever again.”

“Yes, you can, and yes, you will.”

Alastor shook his head so hard it threatened to disrupt his balance. Vox observed him for a long moment. 

“Alright,” he then said and skated back to Alastor who immediately reached out and clung to him. It was a highly unusual feeling. “It’s okay. I’m still really proud of you, Al.”

“Don’t say that,” Alastor mumbled, ducking his head. Vox stroked a few claws through his hair, carefully avoiding his antlers. They were always very sensitive, and he didn’t want to set off Alastor in any way right now. Maybe later, though...

Alastor instantly relaxed against him, even more so when Vox began petting his hair in earnest. 

“You did do well, Alastor. I’m not patronizing you or anything. I really am proud of you for the progress you’ve made today.” 

Alastor scoffed softly, but didn’t argue any further, so neither did Vox. 

They stood like that until Vox started getting chilly. Then he withdrew his hand, gently cupping Alastor’s cheek. 

“I’m cold,” he said, “do you want to go home?”

“Please,” Alastor mumbled, but didn’t let go. Vox smiled softly. 

“Give me a kiss, and then I’ll get us back.”

Alastor gave a quiet scoff, but nonetheless lifted his head. 

They exchanged a quick, yet surprisingly tender kiss, and as promised, Vox led them both back to the bench. They engaged in a bit of small-talk while they removed their skates and put on their own shoes. 

“Al.”

“Hmm?” Alastor hummed as he grabbed his microphone stand. 

Vox wanted to ask if he had overstepped any boundaries today, but he didn’t want to seem overly concerned. That would ruin his image. Thus, he instead grabbed Alastor’s scarf and hauled him in for another kiss, this one much more like the ones he was used to receiving from Valentino; deep and passionate, verging on being obscene. 

Alastor didn’t do or say anything. He just sat there, rigid. 

When Vox pulled back, he pulled Alastor’s hat onto his head and down over his eyes, laughing as The Radio Demon yelped and grumbled. 

“I love you, Al.”

Alastor snickered as he got his hat - and hair - under control. 

“A terrible decision, really.”

“I know,” Vox grinned as they laced their fingers together and started the walk back home.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Possession: a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Jimmy Uso fanfic.

Chapter 13: hate by thxsomch pt. 2

Tuesday Night

The tour bus hummed softly as it cruised down the highway. Roman had long since retreated to his room to sleep, leaving Jimmy alone in the front lounge. The action movie ‘Terminator’ playing on the TV cast eerie shadows across the room, but Jimmy wasn’t fully paying attention. His mind was elsewhere as he glanced at the closed door to Rhea’s room. She hadn’t come out since last night and her silence was heavy.

Her meals—breakfast and dinner—had been placed in the fridge, untouched. Jimmy sighed, running a hand over his face. The faint sound of the bus pulling into a trucker gas station broke his train of thought. The driver parked the bus in a quiet spot and locked the doors before retreating to the couch near Jimmy, nodding off almost immediately.

Jimmy stood, stretching, and debated his next move. Finally, he decided to check on Rhea. He approached her door cautiously, hesitating for a moment before slowly pushing it open.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the moonlight seeping through the window. Rhea lay curled up on the bed, her face turned toward the wall. Even in sleep, she seemed tense, her body curled protectively around itself. Jimmy’s chest ached at the sight.

Quietly, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He moved to the bed and, without a second thought, crawled in beside her. The mattress shifted under his weight, and for a moment, he feared he might wake her, but she didn’t stir. Gently, Jimmy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

She was warm against him, her breathing soft and steady. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for a moment as he whispered, “I’m here, Demi. You’re not alone.”

For the first time all day, a sense of calm washed over Jimmy as he held her. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he allowed himself to simply exist in the quiet, protective embrace. Whether or not Rhea was aware of his presence, he didn’t know, but for now, that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that she wasn’t alone, even in her pain.

After a few hours, Rhea stirred slightly, her body shifting in her sleep to face Jimmy. The warmth surrounding her felt unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the room. She blinked a few times, disoriented, until she realized he was holding her.

She saw Jimmy’s face, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. He was still holding her tightly, his arm draped protectively over her waist. Rhea’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected closeness. For a moment, she just stared at him, her thoughts swirling.

“Jimmy,” she whispered softly, her voice still thick with sleep.

His eyes opened immediately, his dark gaze locking onto hers. For a second, neither of them spoke, the intimacy of the moment hanging heavily in the air.

“Hey,” Jimmy said quietly, his voice deep and gentle, a stark contrast to his usual bravado. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Rhea shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t. I just… I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Jimmy’s hand moved slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve been in here all day, Ree. I couldn’t just let you be alone. Not like this.”

Her heart softened at his words. The vulnerability in his tone was something she hadn’t heard often, and it caught her off guard.

“I didn’t think anyone would…” She trailed off, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. “I just needed some time.”

“I get that,” Jimmy said, his hand resting lightly on her arm now. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. Not with me around.”

Rhea’s eyes searched his, and for the first time in days, she felt a flicker of warmth in the icy pit that had settled in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed someone to simply be there, without judgment or expectations.

“Jimmy…” she began, but the words got caught in her throat.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, cutting her off. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… let me stay here with you.”

Rhea didn’t respond with words. Instead, she shifted slightly, leaning into his embrace. Her head rested against his chest, and she could hear the steady beat of his heart. It was soothing, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Jimmy tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing against the top of her head. The gesture was tender, almost reverent. “You’re stronger than this, Rhea” he murmured. “But even the strongest people need someone to lean on sometimes.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Rhea allowed herself to relax. Her guard, the one she’d built up so high, began to crack ever so slightly. She closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of Jimmy’s presence surround her.

In that quiet moment, as the bus hummed softly around them, the chaos of the outside world faded away. All that mattered was the stillness, the forbidden affection, and the unspoken connection between them. Jimmy shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at Rhea. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing steady, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something about the way she seemed so vulnerable, so raw in this moment. He leaned in, his face inching closer to hers, his lips barely brushing against hers—when Rhea’s hand gently pressed against his chest, stopping him.

“Jimmy,” she whispered, opening her eyes to meet his. “It’s too soon.”

Jimmy froze, guilt flashing across his face. He immediately sat back, giving her space. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice low and earnest. “I didn’t mean to… I just…”

Rhea sat up slightly, pulling the blanket around her. She looked at him carefully, her expression soft but guarded. “Jimmy, did you really like me, or…” She paused, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of doubt. “Or were you just trying to fuck or something?”

Jimmy’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he was quiet, the weight of her question hanging in the air. He looked down at his hands, running a thumb along the hem of the blanket before finally meeting her gaze.

“I really liked you,” he admitted, his voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. “I swear, Ree. I wasn’t trying to fuck. Not at first.”

Rhea arched an eyebrow. “Not at first?”

Jimmy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, when I first saw you, I thought you were amazing. Strong, badass, all of it. I liked you for you. But… somewhere along the line, I ended up finding out Jey liked you too.” He paused, shaking his head. “And yeah, maybe I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Everyone kept saying you were into him. That you’d never look at me like that.”

Rhea frowned slightly, the doubt in her chest growing heavier. “So, what? You just gave up?”

“No,” Jimmy said quickly, his voice rising slightly. “I didn’t give up. I just… I didn’t want to get between you and him if that’s what you wanted. I thought maybe it was better that way, but that didn’t mean I stopped liking you.”

Rhea studied him, her expression unreadable. “And now? After everything that’s happened?”

Jimmy leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but sincere. “Now, I’m here because I care about you, not because of Jey or anyone else. I’ve always cared, Ree. That’s the truth.”

For a moment, Rhea said nothing, her eyes locked onto his as if searching for any hint of dishonesty. Finally, she let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the headboard.

“Jimmy, this is all… so much,” she said, her voice tinged with exhaustion. “I don’t even know how to feel right now, about Jey, about Tiffany, about you.”

“I get that,” Jimmy said softly. “I’m not asking for anything, not now. I just want to be here for you, however you need me to be.”

Rhea gave him a small, hesitant nod. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Jimmy stayed where he was, respecting the space between them. But as they sat there in the quiet, he felt a small flicker of hope that, maybe, this was the start of something real—not for competition, not for show, but for them… or was it?

—

Wednesday

The early morning light filtered through the cracks in the blinds of the tour bus. Rhea stirred awake, groggy but aware of the emptiness beside her. She blinked, realizing Jimmy was gone. For a moment, she felt a pang of something—relief, maybe? Or was it confusion?

Sitting up, she glanced around the small room. Her mind replayed Jimmy’s words from the night before: “I was told you liked Jey.” It unsettled her. How much of her life had been shaped by decisions she didn’t make herself?

Sliding out of bed, Rhea splashed water on her face in the tiny bathroom. She didn’t want to think about Jey or Jimmy—or Tiffany. She wanted clarity, peace, a fresh start.

She stepped into the main living area of the bus. Roman was already up, seated at the dining table, sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone. He looked up, his expression unreadable, but his gaze softened when he saw her.

“Morning,” he said.

Rhea nodded. “Morning. Where’s Jimmy?”

Roman leaned back in his chair, studying her. “He got off a little while ago to grab breakfast. Said he needed some air.”

Rhea swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. She moved to the fridge, pulling out the breakfast she’d ignored the day before.

“You good?” Roman���s question was simple but loaded.

She paused, her hand on the fridge door. “I’m fine.”

Roman let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Sure, you are.”

Before she could fire back, the bus door opened. Jimmy stepped in, balancing two takeaway cups and a brown paper bag. His eyes flicked to Rhea, then to Roman.

“Got coffee,” he said, setting the bag and cups on the counter. “Figured you’d need it.”

Rhea hesitated but eventually took one of the cups. “Thanks.”

Roman stood, stretching. “We’ll be in Denver soon. Let’s not forget we’re professionals, yeah?” He glanced meaningfully at both of them before heading toward the back of the bus.

As the door to Roman’s room clicked shut, the silence between Rhea and Jimmy grew heavy. She finally broke it.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” she said softly.

Jimmy shrugged, leaning against the counter. “I wanted to.”

Her eyes met his, searching for something—sincerity, maybe? An apology? She wasn’t sure.

“I still don’t know how to feel about all of this,” she admitted.

“I know,” Jimmy replied, his voice low. “I’m sorry for…everything. For what it’s worth, I really do care about you, Rhea. Not because of Jey, not because of anything else. Just you.”

She wanted to believe him, but the scars from the past few days—and the realization these past months have been nothing but a lie—ran deep.

“I need time,” she said finally, taking a cautious sip of her coffee.

Jimmy nodded. “Take all the time you need.”

—

Thursday Morning. Denver, Colorado – Live-Streamed Interview

The sleek black leather couch in the studio contrasted sharply with the bright LED lights overhead. Roman, Rhea, and Jimmy sat together, all dressed in matching red and black attire to signify their Elevated Bloodline faction. Roman sat in the center, radiating calm dominance, while Rhea and Jimmy flanked him on either side.

Cathy Kelley, poised and professional as always, smiled brightly at the camera. “Welcome, WWE Universe to this episode of The Bump. Today, I’m joined by none other than the Elevated Bloodline—Roman Reigns, Rhea Ripley, and Jimmy Uso. Thank you all for being here.”

“Pleasure’s ours,” Roman said smoothly, leaning forward slightly.

“Let’s dive right in,” Cathy began. “Monday Night Raw was intense, to say the least. Between your confrontation with Cody Rhodes and the unexpected twist with your tag team title match, the WWE Universe is buzzing. First of all, congratulations to Rhea and Jimmy on retaining your Mixed Tag Team Titles.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy said with a confident grin, his arm resting casually along the back of the couch.

Rhea nodded politely, but her expression remained reserved.

Cathy continued, “Roman, let’s talk about you. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve officially returned, and your mission has been crystal clear—dismantling the remnants of the old Bloodline while simultaneously aiming to regain your Undisputed Championship. How are you balancing these two monumental goals?”

Roman smirked, the trademark arrogance seeping into his tone. “Balance isn’t the issue. Focus is the key, Cathy. The old Bloodline was built on loyalty that got twisted and used against me. I’ve learned from that, and now I’ve surrounded myself with people who understand what it means to elevate the name. As for the Undisputed Championship—”

Before he could finish, Cathy turned her attention to Rhea. “Speaking of focus, Rhea, Monday night left fans with a lot of questions. Tiffany Stratton said some pretty shocking things during your match. Is there anything you’d like to address?”

The air in the room shifted immediately. Rhea’s jaw tightened, and she straightened in her seat. “I’m still not ready to talk about that,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

Cathy hesitated but pressed gently, “I understand, but the WWE Universe is curious. What happened seemed to impact you personally and professionally—”

Rhea cut her off, her voice colder this time. “I said I’m not ready to comment. Next question.”

Cathy paused, visibly uncomfortable, before pivoting. “Of course. Roman, going back to your quest for the Undisputed Championship—”

Roman picked up seamlessly, his confidence filling the room once more. “It’s not just about the title, Cathy. It’s about proving to everyone—especially those who betrayed me—that I’m still the Head of the Table. Whether it’s Cody, Seth, Solo, or anyone else who wants to step up, they’ll learn real quick that the Elevated Bloodline is on a whole other level.”

As Roman spoke, the camera briefly panned to Rhea, who sat unnaturally quiet, her expression tight. Jimmy glanced at her, his brow furrowed with concern. When Roman gestured dramatically, Jimmy took the opportunity to lean toward Rhea slightly and mouth, You okay?

Rhea gave a small nod, but her eyes didn’t meet his.

Cathy, sensing the tension, steered the interview toward its conclusion. “Well, it sounds like Friday Night SmackDown is going to be unmissable. Roman, Jimmy, Rhea, thank you for your time. Any final words for your opponents?”

Roman leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “To anyone who thinks they can stop the Elevated Bloodline—Cody, Solo, Seth, whoever—you better watch your backs. We’ll be at SmackDown, and we’re coming for everything.”

Cathy nodded with a nervous smile. “There you have it, WWE Universe. Don’t miss Friday Night SmackDown in Denver.”

As the livestream ended, the studio lights dimmed, and the crew began packing up. Jimmy immediately turned to Rhea.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked softly, his tone laced with worry.

Rhea finally met his gaze. “Let’s just get on the bus.”

—

The air in the tour bus felt heavy, thick with unspoken frustration. Rhea yanked off her suit jacket, throwing it onto the couch as she paced the small space. “What the fuck was that?” she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting as her eyes darted between Roman and Jimmy.

Jimmy scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but at her. “Hunter wants to capitalize on this whole fiasco,” he said, his voice hesitant, like he was bracing for her reaction.

Rhea’s laugh was bitter, a sharp exhale through her nose. “Of course he does,” she said, sitting down hard on the couch. She grabbed a pillow and pressed it over her face, letting out a muffled groan of frustration. “This is just bullshit.”

Roman leaned against the kitchenette counter, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “They’re moving forward with it tomorrow,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm.

Rhea let out another muffled huff, the pillow still covering her face. “Because why wouldn’t they?” she muttered under her breath.

Jimmy leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. “Look,” he said after a moment, his voice soft, “we just gotta remember—it’s become a work right now. It’s not all real. We can still do it.”

Rhea yanked the pillow off her face and glared at the two men, her green eyes blazing. “Do you two even realize what they’re asking of me?” she said, her voice rising with each word. “They want me to blend my real-life shitty situation with Jey and Tiffany into my work. This isn’t just some storyline for me—it’s my actual life they’re parading around out there.”

Jimmy shrugged, his tone casual but trying to lighten the mood. “I mean… at least you could get some of your aggression out on Tiffany,” he said with a small smirk.

Rhea scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “This isn’t about aggression or some petty revenge,” she snapped. “This isn’t some stupid love triangle, Jimmy. This is my life.”

Roman straightened up, his expression hardening slightly. “Yeah, but you also do realize you have the best job in the world, right?” he said, his voice measured but with an edge. “Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position?”

Rhea turned to him, her frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t about the job, Roman,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “This is about them taking the worst, most personal parts of my life and turning it into a goddamn spectacle.”

Roman’s gaze didn’t waver, his tone remaining calm. “And you’ve got a choice,” he said. “You either let them control the narrative, or you take the reins and make it yours. But sitting here and stewing about it isn’t going to change a damn thing.”

Rhea sighed, running her hands through her hair as she tried to calm herself. “I just… I don’t know how to do that right now,” she admitted quietly.

Jimmy stepped forward, his voice softer now. “You’re not alone in this, Rhea,” he said. “We’ve got your back. And yeah, it sucks, but you’re strong enough to get through it. You always are.”

Rhea looked at him, her gaze softening slightly. “I appreciate that,” she said, her voice low but sincere.

Roman nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And if you wanna say a low blow, no one is gonna’ stop you.”

Rhea couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her, shaking her head. “You two are impossible,” she said, the tension easing just slightly.

But even as the mood lightened, the weight of what was to come lingered in the air, unspoken but ever-present. Rhea leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, knowing tomorrow would be a battle both in and out of the ring.

—

Friday Night SmackDown was already buzzing as Rhea stood in front of the mirror inside her locker room, hurriedly brushing her sleek black hair into a signature slick style. She adjusted her new merch—a black t-shirt emblazoned with an image of her and Jimmy kissing, after their Survivor Series victory. The image itself felt like gasoline on an already raging fire of public speculation, but WWE had pushed it out as quickly as possible. Merch sold, and controversy paid. Rhea hated it.

A knock on the door broke her focus, the brush still in her hand. “Come in,” she muttered, expecting Jimmy or Roman.

Instead, Hunter walked in, his presence steady and calm as always, though the seriousness in his expression gave away why he was here. “Hey, Rhea,” he said evenly, closing the door behind him. “I heard you’re not happy with the storyline.”

Rhea snorted, setting the brush down with an audible clack against the counter. She turned to face him, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Which one?” she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. “The one where I date my ex-boyfriend’s brother? Or the one where I find out my ex-boyfriend got the blonde twat pregnant?”

Hunter’s stoic demeanor didn’t crack. He’d heard enough frustrated superstars vent over the years to know how to ride out the storm. “Rhea…” he began, his tone calm and measured, “I know it’s hard, but you can’t deny it’s bringing in so much viewership.”

Rhea let out a sharp, bitter laugh, her eyes narrowing. “Of course it is,” she shot back. “It’s like watching a goddamn train wreck—you don’t want to look, but you can’t look away either.”

Hunter didn’t react. He just let her speak, knowing she needed to get it out.

“This whole thing is a reboot of the Edge, Lita, and Matt Hardy love triangle,” she said, her voice raising as her frustration spilled over. “The same damn story. And look how that turned out. You think I don’t know how this ends? They pushed that angle so far, and they destroyed those people in the process. You’re doing the same thing to me.”

Hunter’s gaze softened slightly as he stepped closer, keeping his hands in his pockets, trying to maintain a balance between authority and empathy. “Look, I’m not saying it’s perfect,” he admitted. “And you have every right to be frustrated. But this isn’t about destroying you—it’s about you taking control. You’re not a side character, Rhea. You’re at the center of this story. You dictate where it goes.”

Rhea stared at him, jaw tightening as she processed his words. “And what if I don’t want to be in the center of this? What if I’m sick of everyone exploiting my life for the sake of ratings?”

Hunter exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “I get it,” he said softly, though there was still that edge of business pragmatism in his voice. “I do. But this isn’t just about you anymore—it’s about the story. It’s about the fans. And it’s about how we handle what’s already out there. You can either fight it and let it consume you, or you can lean into it and make it yours. The choice is yours, but… the story is happening either way.”

Rhea looked away, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on her shoulders. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence in the room thick and stifling.

Finally, she sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked back at him. “If I’m going out there tonight… if I’m doing this, it’s on my terms.”

Hunter gave a small nod of approval, recognizing the fire in her tone. “Fair enough,” he said simply. “Make it yours, Rhea. Own it.”

As Hunter turned to leave, Rhea stayed rooted in place, staring down at her reflection. The merch shirt, the storyline, the chaos—it all felt suffocating, but deep down, she knew he was right. If she didn’t take control of the narrative, someone else would.

But the bitter taste in her mouth wouldn’t go away as she whispered to herself, “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

Hunter’s words lingered as the door closed behind him. Tonight, the spotlight was on her, and she had a choice to make.

—

Friday Night Smackdown - Denver, Colorado

Corey Graves: “Welcome to Friday Night SmackDown, and let’s not waste any time, Wade. Everyone is still talking about what happened backstage on Monday night between Rhea Ripley and Tiffany Stratton.”

Wade Barrett: “You’re absolutely right, Corey. The rumors are flying about what exactly Tiffany said to Rhea to get under her skin. And if I know Tiffany Stratton, she’s not done stirring the pot.”

Just as Barrett finished his thought, Tiffany Stratton’s music hit, and the arena erupted into a chorus of boos. Tiffany strutted onto the stage, her signature pink Money in the Bank briefcase in hand, looking as confident and smug as ever.

Corey Graves: “And here she comes, the self-proclaimed ‘real woman,’ Tiffany Stratton. She’s been a thorn in Rhea Ripley’s side, and I have a feeling tonight won’t be any different.”

Wade Barrett: “Say what you will about her attitude, Corey, but Tiffany knows how to grab the spotlight.”

Tiffany entered the ring and grabbed a microphone, waiting for the boos to die down, though they only grew louder.

Tiffany Stratton: “Boo me all you want, but I don’t give a damn!”

The crowd’s hostility intensified, but Tiffany merely smirked, spinning her briefcase with one hand.

Tiffany Stratton: “I bet you losers are all wondering what I said to Mami to make her so weak in the boots.”

Her maniacal laughter echoed through the arena, fueling the crowd’s hatred.

Tiffany Stratton: “Here’s the thing you losers need to know… I’m a real woman.”

She posed, showing off her curves, reveling in the attention despite the crowd’s relentless boos.

Tiffany Stratton: “The difference between Mami and Tiffy is that I know how to satisfy any man, including Mami’s—”

Before she could finish, Rhea Ripley’s music hit, and the crowd exploded into cheers. The Eradicator stepped out onto the stage, microphone in hand, her expression icy and focused.

Corey Graves: “Here comes Rhea Ripley, and she does not look happy!”

Wade Barrett: “And I don’t blame her, Corey. Tiffany poked the bear, and I think she just crossed the line for that.”

Rhea paused at the top of the ramp, her music cutting off as she raised her microphone.

Rhea Ripley: “Tiffany, I’ve never seen a homewrecker be proud of what she’s done.”

The crowd erupted, fully behind Rhea as she began walking down the ramp.

Tiffany Stratton: “Didn’t you cheat first?”

The tension in the arena skyrocketed as the crowd gasped, fully invested in the fiery exchange.

Rhea Ripley: “Here’s the thing… it was a work. It’s a storyline.”

Rhea stopped mid-ramp, looking around at the crowd for emphasis.

Rhea Ripley: “I’m pretty sure we all know what we do is a job, right?”

The audience roared as Rhea climbed into the ring, stepping right up to Tiffany. The two women stared each other down, the intensity driven with mutual hate.

Rhea Ripley: “But what you did to me for a year and a half wasn’t a work.”

Tiffany laughed mockingly, clearly trying to push Rhea’s buttons. But before she could say another word, Rhea snapped.

Rhea delivered a devastating headbutt to Tiffany, sending her stumbling backward. Without hesitation, Rhea launched into a series of punches, driving Tiffany to the mat.

Corey Graves: “Oh no! Rhea’s had enough!”

Wade Barrett: “And here we go!”

The crowd went wild as Rhea unleashed her fury, but before things could escalate further, Jimmy Uso’s music hit. He sprinted down the ramp and slid into the ring, grabbing Rhea around the waist to pull her off Tiffany.

Tiffany, blood dripping from her nose, screamed obscenities at Rhea, her voice muted by the camera as she tried to collect herself.

Corey Graves: “Rhea Ripley has completely lost it! And now Tiffany Stratton is bleeding!”

Wade Barrett: “This is pure chaos, Corey. This is no longer about championships or storylines—this is personal!”

As Tiffany got to her feet, she grabbed her briefcase and swung it toward Rhea, but Jimmy stepped in the way. The briefcase connected with his head, and he collapsed to the mat, clutching his skull.

Rhea saw red. She tackled Tiffany to the ground again, raining down punches until security flooded the ring. Multiple guards grabbed both women, trying to separate them, but the chaos was far from over. Jimmy manages to get up and pulls Rhea away again.

Rhea broke free from Jimmy lunging at Tiffany again. Tiffany also broke free, charging at Rhea, but Rhea was quicker. She grabbed her Mixed Tag Team Championship belt and swung it with precision, cracking Tiffany in the head.

Corey Graves: “Oh my god! Rhea just used that title like a weapon!”

Wade Barrett: “Tiffany Stratton is out cold! This is absolute carnage!”

Tiffany crumpled to the mat, clutching her head as officials scrambled to regain control. Rhea stood tall, breathing heavily, her own championship belt in hand as she glared down at Tiffany.

Corey Graves: “This situation has gone completely off the rails, and I don’t think we’ve seen the end of this rivalry.”

Wade Barrett: “If tonight is any indication, Corey, this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

—

Friday Night SmackDown returns from commercial, and the screen cuts to the backstage area where Tiffany is being tended to by medics. The sound of chaos fills the air as the medical team works to clean her bleeding nose.

Suddenly, an angry voice is heard in the background:

“Bitch!”

Before anyone can react, Rhea Ripley storms back into the frame, landing another punch on Tiffany, who shrieks and tries to shield herself.

Corey Graves: “Oh no! Rhea Ripley is back for more!”

Wade Barrett: “She’s completely unhinged tonight! Somebody needs to get control of this situation!”

The medics scramble to separate the two women, but Rhea’s fury cannot be contained. Tiffany tries to fight back, clawing at Rhea’s arms, but she’s clearly outmatched.

Tiffany Stratton: (yelling) “Go f— your boyfriend’s brother!”

The camera mutes the profanity, but the crowd reacts with a collective gasp as the tension between them escalates.

Rhea Ripley: (mocking) “Have you told Marcel? Huh? Does he know what kind of snake you are?”

As the medics attempt to hold Rhea back, Jimmy Uso enters the scene, grabbing Rhea by the shoulders and pulling her away.

Corey Graves: “Jimmy Uso is trying to defuse this situation, but I don’t think Rhea’s done yet!”

Wade Barrett: “Tiffany might need more than a medic—she might need a restraining order!”

Tiffany screams in frustration, slamming her hand on the medical table as Jimmy drags Rhea down the hallway. The camera follows them as Rhea continues to rant, her energy completely uncontainable.

Rhea Ripley: “Let me go, Jimmy! She’s not gonna get away with this!”

Jimmy keeps a firm grip on her as they turn a corner, but the tension heightens when Solo Sikoa, Jacob Fatu, Tama Tonga, and Tanga Loa come into view, standing in the hallway with amused smirks.

Corey Graves: “Oh no, now the rest of the Bloodline is here. This could get ugly.”

Wade Barrett: “Rhea Ripley doesn’t seem to care who’s in her way tonight. She’s ready to fight everyone!”

Rhea’s eyes narrow as she spots the group.

Rhea Ripley: (yelling) “What? You want some of this too?”

She grabs a nearby black metal chair, folding it up and raising it above her head.

Rhea Ripley: “Come here! I dare you!”

The Bloodline begins to laugh, with Solo smirking at Rhea’s intensity.

Solo Sikoa: (mocking) “Relax, Mami. We’re not here for you.”

Rhea doesn’t wait for a response. She charges at Solo, swinging the chair. Solo dodges, laughing as the rest of the Bloodline steps back to avoid the chaos. Rhea drops the chair and lunges at Solo, landing a punch before security rushes in.

Corey Graves: “Rhea Ripley has completely lost it! She’s attacking the entire Bloodline now!”

Wade Barrett: “This isn’t just about Tiffany Stratton anymore. Rhea Ripley is taking on anyone in her path!”

Solo Sikoa: “You better watch yourself Rhea!”

Security floods the scene, separating Rhea from the Bloodline. Despite their efforts, Rhea continues to yell and struggle against their grip.

Rhea Ripley: “I don’t care! I’ll f— up everyone who stands in my way!”

Her voice echoes through the hallway, drawing the attention of Nick Aldis, the General Manager of SmackDown, who storms into view with a furious expression.

Nick Aldis: “Rhea! My office. Now!”

Corey Graves: “Nick Aldis has had enough of this chaos. Rhea Ripley might be in serious trouble after tonight.”

Wade Barrett: “She’s one half of the inaugural Mixed Tag Team champions, Corey, but even that doesn’t excuse this level of mayhem. What a night!”

[billymayslesbian]

Before Lionblaze could argue, another shape burst through the billowing smoke to stand beside Squirrelflight. His eyes glared; his gray fur was matted together and stuck with bits of burnt leaf and twig. Confused by the smoke and flames, Hollyleaf almost thought she was seeing one of her warrior ancestors, until she recognized Ashfur.

Squirrelflight dropped the branch. “Help me push it into the fire!” she yowled.

Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.

The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in herbelly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.

“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”

“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.

Hollyleaf felt her fur beginning to rise. What did Ashfur mean?

Lionblaze’s golden pelt was bristling, too. “What have you done with my father?” he howled through the flame.

Ashfur looked at him pityingly; his eyes were twin points of fire amid the burning forest. “Why would I waste my time with Brambleclaw?”

The main branch was too solid to catch fire easily, but the leaves on it had shriveled and the twigs were beginning to smoke. Hollyleaf realized that they didn’t have much time before their bridge to safety would be ablaze.

Squirrelflight staggered up to Ashfur. Hollyleaf had never seen her mother so angry. Her fur bristled with fury; she looked like a warrior of TigerClan. Yet it was obvious that the climb to the top of the cliff, followed by her struggle with the branch, had weakened her, and she was exhausted.

“Your quarrel with Brambleclaw has to stop,” she hissed. “Too many moons have passed. You have to accept that I’m Brambleclaw’s mate, not yours. You can’t keep trying to punish Brambleclaw for something that was always meant to be.”

Ashfur’s ears flicked up in surprise. “I have no quarrel with Brambleclaw.”

Hollyleaf exchanged a shocked glance with Lionblaze. “That’s not how it looks to me,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t care less about Brambleclaw,” Ashfur continued. “It’s not his fault he fell for a faithless she-cat.”

Faithless? A growl began to build in Hollyleaf ’s throat, but then she stopped and watched the cats on the other side of the blazing branches. Something ominous was taking place in front of her, and even with flame roaring around them she felt a sudden chill. She shrank closer to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, whose head was up, his sightless eyes intent, as if he could see the confrontation between his mother and Ashfur.

“I know you think I’ve never forgiven Brambleclaw for stealing you from me, but you’re wrong, and so is every cat that thinks so. My quarrel is with you, Squirrelflight.” Ashfur’s voice shook with rage. “It always has been.”

Horrified, Hollyleaf took a step back and felt her hind paws begin to slip on the edge of the cliff. Her head spun as lightning stabbed out and thunder drowned all other sounds, even the roaring fire. For a heartbeat she dangled over empty air, and she let out a strangled yowl.

Then she felt firm teeth meet in her scruff; blinking against the smoke, she realized that Lionblaze was hauling her back to safety. But there was no safety: only the hungry flames, and Ashfur blocking the end of the branch with fury in his eyes. Fiery sparks floated down on all three young cats, scorching their fur, and flames licked the underside of the branch; fear flooded afresh through Hollyleaf when she saw that it was already beginning to smolder.

Ashfur has to let us get out! But Hollyleaf couldn’t find any words to plead with him. What was happening here didn’t have anything to do with them, even if they died because of it.

“All this was moons ago.” Squirrelflight sounded puzzled. “Ashfur, I had no idea you were still upset.”

“Upset?” Ashfur echoed. “I’m not upset. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I can’t understand how any of you failed to see the blood. . . .”

His eyes clouded and his voice took on a wild, distant tone, as if he could see the blood spilling out of him now, sizzling on the burning ground. Terror burst through Hollyleaf and she pressed closer to her brothers. This cat was more dangerous than the storm or the fire, or the fall lurking perilously close to her hind paws.

Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”

Hollyleaf ’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”

Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”

“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”

“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.

“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.

Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked flat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.

Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?

Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

In My Little Black Dress

The LADS Men have seen you in your long flowing dresses, but there was something about the way you looked in this particular dress that hugged your curves ; showing off those legs that they dream about being in-between. Artist @/osk_purinnumee on twitter

‼️MDNI MDNI MDNI‼️

Zayne ♡

Storyline: He couldn't help himself after seeing you in that dress.

"Can you zip me up?" Such an innocent question.

Zayne sat frozen starring at you; his expression giving away nothing. His intense stare caused you to start second guessing whether or not you should wear this dress. "I can change"

"No!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst. "No you look beautiful" He stood from his seat on the bed raking his gaze over your body continuously as he circled around behind you. "Just ... perfect" His breath ghosted over your neck as he planted a soft kiss while his hands slowly zipped your dress up.

He spun you around, taking your hand and stepping back to admire you. "I love this dress on you" His voice as soft as silk. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies. "Thank you" you whispered back looking away to avoid his piercing gaze.

Before you knew it Zayne was leaning down placing the softest kiss on your lips. His kiss quickly grew hungry as he moved lower, grazing his teeth along your jaw and planting wet kisses down your neck.

"Zayne..." your voice nothing more than a breathy moan. "Hmm?"

"We ... we have to go the award ceremony starts in thirty minutes" He continued his assault on your neck littering kisses as his hands roamed your body. "I need you now" He couldn't help himself seeing the way that dress perfectly hugged your curves while propping his girls up just right.

He backed you against the wall before dropping to his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You shot a hand out pushing his head back. "Zayne we can't we have to go"

His breath was ragged as he rubbed his nose against your already wet panties before looking up at you through his lashes. "Please" He begged; his breath ghosting over your pussy sending shivers up your spine.

You couldn't help but give in giving a subtle nod and soon after he pulled your panties to the side and took his time with a long languid lick before devouring you like a man starved.

Rafayel ♡

Storyline: No self-control when it comes to you. He has to have you now in the middle of his Art Exhibit.

Rafayel swore you were teasing him with the dress you decided to wear tonight for his latest Art Exhibit. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching your hips sway and the way you pulled the hem down when it rose almost giving him a nice view of your ass.

He refused to let you leave his side. He was either holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you from behind. "You look so beautiful baby" He whispered in your ear as he slid his hands up and down the front of your dress. "We should get out of here, go somewhere less noisy"

"This is for you Rafayel we can't just leave" He pouted at your answer as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. "I don't like that answer" A quiet gasp left you as you felt him grind his hardening length against your ass.

"Rafayel!" You whisper-shouted whipping around to glare at him. As soon as your eyes met his you were shocked at how red his cheeks and ears were. You rolled your eyes and exhaled hard; looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes you turned back to Rafayel as a smile stretched across your face. "There's a private room-"

"I know ... I'll be quick .... I don't want to be, but I will be" He cut you off and swiftly tugged you out of the packed venue making his way to the back stairs. Rafayel yanked the private door open pulling you in slamming it behind the two of you and claiming your lips in a heated kiss.

His kiss was breathtaking; you gasped as you felt his hands bunch up your dress and quickly slip into your panties. Rafayel was incredibly skilled with his fingers. He dipped two fingers into you making you tremble as he massaged that spot. "Right there" you moaned between kisses; he moved to you neck as you threw your head back against the door in bliss. It didn't take him long to coax an orgasm out of you.

He smiled against your neck as he pulled his fingers out making you whine. He fumbled with his belt and zipper quickly pulling out his dick that stood hard & red. You were always shocked at how big Raf was it almost seemed like it wouldn't fit.

Not giving you time to catch your breath he slides his hand down your thigh lifting it up and hooking your leg over his hip as he sunk into you with an audible whimper. He lifted your other leg as well; you instinctively locked your legs around his waist as he pounded into you at a ferocious pace.

"Raf- ah!" He slaps his hand over your mouth. "Shhh you have to keep quiet beloved"

Xavier ♡

Storyline: Made it all the way to the Annual Hunters Ball (Yes I made it up get off me) never even made it out of the car.

Xavier had top tier self-control unless it came to you. The minute he saw you in that tailored gown with a slit to show a little leg he was a goner.

"One more just one more" Xavier whimpered against your soaked cunt. He was currently buried between your legs in the backseat of his car. Thank goodness his windows were tinted otherwise everyone would see you splayed out for him with tears running down your face.

"Xav I can't" You whimpered trying to push his head which only caused him to hold your thighs tighter and flick his tongue faster on your overstimulated clit. "You can do it cum on my face"

Such a dirty mouth for someone with such an innocent looking face. Those deep blue eyes gazing up at you watching your every reaction to his tongue had him so hard he could cut diamonds. You arched into his mouth feeling another orgasm crest letting out the sluttiest moan that didn't even sound like something that would come from you.

Xavier continued to lick and suck catching every drop as you came down from your high. Flattening his tongue so you could grind out the last bit of your orgasm before slumping against the door.

Xavier sat up freeing his painful hard-on from his freshly pressed slacks that were now ruined with his pre-cum. "You can't go in with stained pants"

"That Hunters Ball is the last thing on my mind right now" He said as he lined himself up running his tip through your slick before sinking into you slowly. He shivered as he sheathed himself in you inch by inch "Fuck you have heaven between your thighs babe"

Sylus ♡

Storyline: He has to keep one hand on you or .... maybe two fingers in you.

Sylus was doing great. He held his composure from the house all the way to the auction. Which wasn't easy watching your hips sway, ass bounce, and tits jiggle as you ran around putting on your last touches of makeup, jewelry, and redoing your hair twice because you didn't like how your edges looked with the first style.

The dress you had on left just barely enough for the imagination while simultaneously being classy. Sylus couldn't help but at least keep one hand on you.

Long tablecloths were draped over every table giving Sylus the perfect idea. You two sat at a table towards the back of the venue and as soon as the lights dimmed to begin the auction you felt Sylus hand slide up your left thigh. "I'm right handed Sylus my knife is on the other side" You whispered to him.

"I wasn't looking for your weapon Princess" He whispered as his hand inched towards the apex of your thighs. You took a sharp inhale as his fingers brushed against the lining of your panties. "You're already wet sweetie ... in a place like this? How scandalous" Your breathing became ragged as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into you. He stroked your G spot causing you to cover your mouth with your fist to keep from making noise.

"Sy-Sylus" You moaned as you leaned forward pretending to be interested in what the auctioneer was saying. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop"

He flattened his palm giving your clit more stimulation. "Then go ahead ... cum on my hand" He leaned over making it look as though he was just whispering in your ear when in reality he gave your ear lobe a soft nip before sucking it between his lips. That sent you right over the edge. Soft whimpers fell from your lips as you dripped all over his hand.

Sylus pulled his fingers out giving you a cheeky smirk before stirring his glass of whiskey with his fingers that you just came all over. "Now that's a one of a kind drink"

[eyesxxyou]

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

[simpforboys]

nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

[tojicide]

⠀ REMIND ME! ☆ SYLUS QIN.

summary. six months after your breakup with sylus, news broke of you moving on, which is something he simply cannot allow—not if he can help it.

warnings. fem!reader. nsfw, infidelity, pet names, established history, hair pulling, face sitting, oral sex (female receiving) because sylus is a munch, doggy style, missionary, creampie, aftercare

wc. 6.1k

note. …i do not stand by anyone’s depicted behavior but… what can i say? i love an unconventional concept.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Once news broke the N109 Zone of a prospering romance in his district, Sylus couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. It was when he heard whispers of your name adjacent to another man’s that he began to listen.

He was out the front door of his home within a second, his leg swinging over his bike before Luke and Kieran could have a say in the matter.

The two men stood side by side, shouting a frantic ‘it’s normal to move on, man!’ and a ‘it’s been six months!’ from the doorstep as they watched their white haired boss speed away.

Sylus was sure that if he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle any tighter, they’d certainly break off.

If he was willing to harm his most prized possession over the pure frustration you’ve stirred within him, you should consider yourself the most lucky yet damned woman alive.

He liked to think he was headstrong, but when it came to you, he lost all of his sense. You consumed him and he gladly let you, because it truly was a blessing and a curse.

For how much he loved to put the pedal to the metal, he’s never once gotten to your apartment as fast as he has just now. He didn’t even bother to properly leave his bike in between the lines of a parking spot before he was practically flying towards your front door, knocking rapidly until you answered.

Surprise is etched across your face as you crack the door open just enough to see who your uninvited guest was, but a strong hand pushed it open even further. “What the fu—”

“Where is he?” he cuts you off with a question, his red eyes scanning your cozy living room like a predator on the prowl.

“Excuse you, I— what? Where is who?” your questions stammer out as your brain tries to catch up to the scene in front of you.

Sylus forces himself to turn around and face you, realizing that his erratic behavior was likely confusing you. He hated the look you were giving him, the one that made him feel like a pure inconvenience to you (even though he certainly was behaving like one).

“Your… boyfriend,” he clarifies, almost choking on the word. The fact that the title was no longer his was already a problem in and of itself, but losing it to another man was something he simply could not allow. “Where is he?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as you give him a once over. “You think that you’re going to barge into my apartment and pummel the ever living shit out of my boyfriend?”

“More or less,” he answers, his long strides continuing a bit further down your hallway. “Preferably more.”

You scoff, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you watch your ex–boyfriend scope out your apartment that he’s all too familiar with.

“He isn’t here.”

“So I’ve gathered,” he replies, his head poking into your bedroom.

Sylus did his best to sound nonchalant, though his heart rate was through the roof. He saw no signs of any male presence—no messily discarded clothes, no misplaced shoes, no second toothbrush in the bathroom—which meant that your relationship wasn’t as serious as he’d imagined.

And boy, was he relieved to figure that much out.

You straighten off the wall as he enters your bedroom, hurriedly walking behind him as you speak, “Y’know, since your objective for coming here can’t be achieved, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Did I say that was my only objective?” he simply asks, his eyes scanning your bedroom.

A bit had changed since he’d last been in here. You changed your comforter to a floral pattern, and you even matched the drapes to the shade of your bedding.

Your attention to detail was something he admired about you, and his attention to detail was something you used to love, though as his eyes fell to your open underwear drawer—you’re growing to hate it. A lot.

“Get out of there!” you exclaim, rushing to shove it closed, only to catch his slender finger in the crossfire.

He winces slightly, lifting his already bruising finger to your line of vision. “You’ve wounded me, sweetie. Kiss it better?”

You scoff, slightly pushing his hand away from your face. In any other context, you would have apologized, but given the fact that Sylus had entered your apartment without invitation and threatened to harm your boyfriend within five minutes of his arrival was enough to make you think that this made the two of you almost even.

A small smirk tugs at Sylus’s lips as he presses his finger to his tongue, soothing the stinging that you caused. Your eyes linger on his mouth for a bit longer than they should, and if he noticed (which he certainly did), he didn’t say anything.

“I see you went shopping,” he mumbled, his eyes falling to your now closed underwear drawer. “That’s a shame, baby. A damn shame.”

You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Why’s that?”

“I hate the idea of another man seeing what’s mine,” Sylus answers, tilting his head to the side as he gives your body an agonizingly slow once over, “in such pretty fabric, at that.”

Heat rushes to your face at his implication, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable or if you’re flustered by his forwardness. You figure it’s a mixture of both, but you mask it with an annoyed huff.

“I can do what I want,” you refute, crossing your arms over your chest. “And if what I want is to buy panties that you’ll never have the privilege of seeing me wear, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Sylus clicks his tongue, shaking his head with the slightest smirk curving upwards on his lips. He finds your attitude to be just as adorable as it is frustrating. With the way you look, arms tightly crossed over your chest with the tiniest wrinkle in between your eyebrows, he’d liken you to an angry kitten.

“If you’re trying to rile me up, you’re succeeding,” he states, drumming his fingers on your dresser.

Your eyes flit away at that. “I’m not trying to do anything. In fact, I want nothing to do with you.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely upset with you from the moment he arrived. “Your boyfriend may fall for this little act of yours, but I won’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sylus straightens up, his tall frame towering over you. You almost feel antsy under his gaze, but you do your best to hide it.

“I am what your heart truly desires,” he lowly murmurs, his finger tracing from the middle of your collarbones to the valley of your breasts. “And you can lie to him, you can even lie to yourself—but you cannot lie to me. I can see your deepest desires, remember?”

Betrayal is your body’s first instinct. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the pad of his index finger runs across your skin, and you physically have to fight off a whine from escaping your lips.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, you straighten up, glancing towards your bedroom door. “That’s… bullshit, Sylus. Get out of my head.”

“It’s nothing of the sort,” he replies with a much gentler tone now. “And I’ll do no such thing. Your mind is my favorite place to be.”

He studies his reddened finger for a moment, silently deciding to steer the conversation from its more serious direction. “It still won’t feel better until it gets a kiss from its favorite girl, you know.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes betray you by studying the reddened pad of his finger. It shouldn’t be as enticing of a view as it is. You find it to be almost criminal.

“You can lose that finger for all I care,” you huff, trying not to remember how good it used to feel inside of you.

“So brash.” Sylus forces a pout on his lips, though it doesn’t last long. He presses a kiss to his own finger before he extends his arm to rest on the edge of your dresser, keeping you caged against your drawers.

“You’re awfully lucky that I’m a forgiving man,” he murmurs, his red eyes trained to yours. “You can do almost anything to me and I’d allow it.”

Judging by the way your expression lights up, that seems to give you an idea.

“Really?” you inquire, narrowing your eyes. “Say, if I punched you square in your face, would you allow it?”

“I’m not opposed to finding out,” he answers, his eyelids fluttering as he continues to drink in your beauty. “You know I love it when you’re rough with me.”

That comment forces a flush to your face, and you almost have to pinch yourself to keep your mind from bringing forward all of the memories that proved just how true that statement was.

It infuriates you how easily he could get a reaction out of you, no less than six months after you broke up with him. Perhaps that was why, in a split second decision (one that you’re hardly aware you’re making), your fist goes flying towards his face.

Sylus firmly stops your wielding hand before it can make contact with his cheek. His fingers unwind your fist and bring your hand close, allowing him to press a few chaste kisses to your knuckles.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled by the kisses he’s peppering on your hand. “So, so beautiful.”

Only he would say such a thing after you attempted to inflict bodily harm upon him. You wish you could rationalize his behavior, but you can’t—that’s just Sylus.

Your body betrays you in every way, shape, and form. Your face is flushed, your eyes are half lidded, and the mere contact of his lips on your knuckles is enough for butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Grasping onto the last bit of common sense you have, you pull your hand from his grasp.

“It’s time for you to go,” you insist, beginning to slide against the dresser to escape his gaze.

Sylus allows you to create a bit of distance between the two of you, lifting his arm up from your dresser to let you walk away. The last thing he wants is to make you feel suffocated—the very reason you broke up with him in the first place.

He tried to do better, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t an animal, though. He loved you more than words could ever describe, and he’d allow you anything you wanted. And if physical space was what you wanted, he’d grant it to you.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he quietly says, his voice carrying an unforeseen vulnerability to it, “but I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t let you give yourself to a bastard who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your eyebrows raise. “How can you be so sure he doesn’t deserve me?”

“I know you, baby. That’s how.”

A beat of silence passes, and he conjures up the courage to continue. “And I’m positive there isn’t a single soul who could possibly deserve your favor,” Sylus reasons, loosely crossing his arms over his broad chest, his toned biceps showing through the sleeves of his black button–up shirt. “Not even myself. I’m man enough to recognize that.”

His answer catches you off guard, but you do your best to maintain your front. You don’t want him to see how his words seem to squeeze at your heart.

“Then why are you here?” you genuinely ask.

Sylus knows he’s backed himself into a corner, and contrary to what you might think, he’d intended to do just that.

He wants you to give him the green light to speak every word that he’s longed to say to you from the moment he’d seen you last, and now that you have, the floodgates are open.

“I’m selfish,” he admits, taking a tentative step towards you. “I’m drunk on you, and I can’t bear the thought of sobering up, even after all this time. It’s unfair, it’s horrible, it’s cruel—I know this, sweetie. But… I find my serenity in your eyes, and with you gone, my life is purgatory. The confines of hell must be more pleasant than what it is that I feel when I’m without you.”

Internally, you’re floored. Gobsmacked, even. Externally, you’re looking at him with the same soft expression you’ve worn this entire time.

Met with your silence, Sylus begins to internally panic. He slowly takes a few steps towards you, and when you don’t attempt to maintain the distance between you, his hands move to cup your face.

“Rid me of this life,” he whispers, his mouth so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips. “I cannot go on, not without you beside me.”

You truly hate how easy it is for him to reduce you to nothing but putty. You have a new boyfriend, you’ve moved on, you’ve allowed the love that you and Sylus shared to be nothing more than history.

You wanted to believe that moving forward was the best thing you could do, but if that was true, why is it that your heart hadn’t felt full until you laid eyes on Sylus? It seems to beat differently, like it’s finally come back to life in his presence.

Noticing the softening of your eyes, Sylus can’t help himself. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, holding both of you there for a few seconds. The sheer tenderness of his action was enough to make you melt, and you were sure you would’ve if his hands on your face weren’t grounding you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, tilting your head up so that he can look into your eyes.

Sylus was never one for verbal affection (or being desperate for a woman’s favor) prior to you, but he’d make this exception a million times over if it meant he could have you however you’d let him.

You’ve nearly forgotten all of your allegiances, and you can’t even blame yourself for it. You know that indulging in him is like eating a forbidden fruit, and even then, you can’t forbid yourself from its taste—not when you know how sweet it is. What you feel goes beyond want; it’s pure, unadulterated need.

“No response for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. You carefully slide out of his grasp and sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes trailing you as you do so.

You’re a firm believer that nothing is real until you’ve said it out loud, and Sylus is more than aware of that. He doesn’t want to push you too hard, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

As you sit, your thighs naturally part and your skirt rides up just a bit, and the sight of the pink fabric clothing your pussy is enough to elicit behavior that you’ve never once seen from Sylus.

“God, you are a privilege,” he murmurs, taking a few steps towards you. Without hesitation, he slowly descends to his knees before you, his hands trailing up your thighs. “Such a sight,” he adds his eyes flitting to the dampening fabric of your underwear, “such a beautiful sight.”

If his words weren’t enough, the sight of him kneeling in front of you was enough to make you faint. (Or scream. Or cum. Maybe all three at the same time, you’re not sure.)

“Allow me the night,” Sylus pleads, his glowing red eyes finally locking onto yours. His hand moves to brush your hair from your face, tucking it loosely behind your ear. “Just the night. One night to indulge you.”

Lying would be no use, all things considered. He’d already shamelessly eyed the needy area between your thighs, knowing that the arousal collecting there is for him. Your stomach swirls with a mixture of guilt and need, and you honestly feel like you’re in an impossible position.

“Sylus,” you breathe, your heartbeat thumping so hard that you’re surprised your chest hasn’t burst. “This is so wrong.”

He shakes his head as his large, gentle hands move to rest on your knees. “Your pleasure means more to me than a simple case of right and wrong.”

“I wish it was as simple as you make it seem,” you say, a long sigh leaving you.

“Can’t it be?” Sylus questions, his thumbs idly stroking your knees. “Allow me this one night to remind you of how I feel about you, how you feel about me. If you want me to leave you alone by the time morning comes, I will accept that with a smile.”

You’d like to imagine that you’re stronger than this, that the idea of a final night of lovemaking with your ex-boyfriend to get him out of your head for good isn’t appealing—but it is.

It’s something you’ve thought about before (in the dead of night with your hand stuffed down your shorts), but never did you think it could become a reality.

Only now, with him kneeling in front of you, it was.

“Okay,” you sheepishly murmur. “Remind me.”

You know this is absolutely horrible of you to do, but you can’t find the will to deny yourself this. As much as you tried to get Sylus out of your head, you never could. Not long enough for it to make a difference, anyway.

(Perhaps this, a final intimate night between the two of you, will be just what you need to move on for good.)

Sylus knows that his time with you is limited, but he plans to make it the best night of your existence.

(Perhaps if he can remind you of how much he’s willing to give, how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you—you’ll change your mind.)

His large, strong hands trail up as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, pressing a few kisses to your calves and inner thighs. He presses a kiss to the fabric of your underwear, his tongue drawing out to taste the wet spot of fabric.

Sylus isn’t sure what’s come over him, but he honestly feels like he’ll either implode or cry at the sight of you right now. To have you again is something he’s dreamt about more than he’d like to admit, and he plans to show you just how much your absence has affected him as his fingers slide beneath your skirt to hook under the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Thank you,” he mutters against your skin, tugging the fabric down your legs. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters aloud the moment his eyes land on your heat.

He could seriously cum in his pants right now, and if he’s not careful, he will. His hands lock onto your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed to give him better access to your glistening cunt.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he breathes, licking a long stripe up your slit.

You would have replied if he hadn’t buried his face in between your thighs. His tongue laps at your wetness before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly at it with hollowed cheeks.

A cry leaves your lips at the sensation, your hand gripping onto his white hair as you revel in the feeling his tongue is giving you.

He’s eating you out like a man starved, his own moans rumbling into your cunt, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. Sylus could do this for days if you let him, but after not having you like this for so long, he can’t help himself from needing more.

Within moments, he’s slowly pushing you higher on your bed, still licking at your pussy until he’s physically unable to. He looks up at you with crazed eyes, licking his spit-slick lips as he kicks his shoes off.

“Sit on my face,” he murmurs, moving to lay on your bed. When he’s met with your hesitance, he’s grasping onto your arm to carefully pull you towards him. “I might die without it.”

You’ve never once seen a man so pussy drunk in your entire life, but you’re in absolutely no position to deny him. So, you move to hover above him, your hands resting on your headboard. You hear a satisfied moan beneath you, and he’s soon hooking his arms around your thighs.

“You won’t die without it,” you grumble. “In fact, you might die because of it. Suffocation—”

“Suffocation of this kind might be the best way to go,” he cuts you off, licking a faint swipe against your folds. “In fact, when we’re old and withered, it might be my last ask of you.”

Your face flushes, and you can feel heat rushing to both your cunt and your cheeks. Noticing the coy face you’re making, Sylus can’t help himself from laying a faint smack on your ass, squeezing its plushness as he stares up at you.

“For now, though,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want you to let go for me. Can’t have you dangling this pretty cunt in my face without letting me taste it.”

As you hesitantly begin to relax your thighs and lower on top of him, he lifts his head up to meet you halfway and gather your slick on his tongue.

“Very good, baby,” Sylus purrs, dropping his head back onto your sheets as he pulls your hips down the rest of the way, “now sit.”

When all of your weight crashes down on him, a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sheer passion behind the movements of his tongue. He almost seems to be more incentivized. His eyes flutter shut as he mouths at your pussy, the moans leaving his mouth in combination with the absolute filthy sounds of his tongue are enough to drive you insane.

Sylus feels like he’s finally left purgatory and has transcended into heaven. With his pretty girl on his face, taking her on his tongue, making the most beautiful little noises—he’s honestly never felt better.

(Well, there is that whole new boyfriend thing looming in the back of his mind, but he’s sure that you’ll take care of that once he’s done taking care of you.)

One of your hands leaves the headboard to grasp onto his hair, your eyes screwing shut as you rock your hips over his tongue. “Sylus,” you breathe out through a moan. “I’m— oh, shit—”

Sylus’s cock twitches as you moan his name, his eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands help to guide the rocking of your hips. With his other, he palms himself through his trousers, his mouth working tirelessly to make you feel good.

Even as self-admittedly selfish as he is, he can’t bear the idea of putting his pleasure above your own—even if the ache is physically eating away at him. With you writhing above him, the sounds you’re making, the look on your face, it’s all too much—even for him.

Your mouth lulls open as you let out the most beautiful whine he’s ever heard, and his tongue slows down, working you through your first orgasm of the night. He eagerly collects your juices with his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he finally presses a final kiss to your swollen clit.

“I can stay this way forever,” he says against your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your warm skin, “you and me,” he places another kiss, “together.”

You shift to lay beside him, out of breath and looking beautifully disheveled. Sylus licks his lips and lies starry–eyes beside you. Soon enough, a huff of laughter escaped his throat, realizing he might’ve said too much there.

Sylus turns his head to look at you. “Was that enough to get an ‘I miss you too’ out of that mouth of yours?”

You let out a breathless laugh, your hand running over your face. “No,” you lie.

That was the best orgasm you’ve had since your breakup, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You’ve developed quite the attitude,” he muses, rolling on top of you. He slots his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“That boyfriend of yours must not fuck it out of you like he should,” he adds, the low volume of his voice rumbling against your skin as he kisses along your jaw, “like I can.”

Before you can think twice, you’re lifting your hips against the bulge in his pants, a soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the very prominent shape of his hardened cock. With a grunt, Sylus pushes your hips down, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs.

“Such a needy little thing,” he purrs, his hand moving to cup your mound. “First you’re insisting I leave, and now you’re hoping I’ll give you my cock. You’re sending me mixed signals here, baby.”

You’re seeing stars, and your hand grasps onto his wrist, feeling the way his muscles tense as he begins to toy with your clit.

“I want it,” you whine, your toes curling as the pad of his middle finger circles your entrance, “you’re… you’re being a tease.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, licking a long stripe up your neck. “If you want it bad enough, you’re gonna have to prove it, baby.”

Your head tilts to the side as Sylus pulls away from your neck to look down at you. His fingers move to work at the button of your skirt, tugging it down your legs and tossing it onto the floor of your room.

“How?” you ask.

He presses his lips to yours as his hands tug up your shirt, breaking the kiss to carefully pull it over your head. His large hands palm at your breasts, bringing your perked nipples in between his fingers.

“Pick up the phone,” Sylus answers, releasing your breasts to sit up in front of you, his hands moving to undo his belt.

Your curiosity soon turns into something much more lustful as he pulls his trousers and boxers down his thighs. His shirt goes next, the fabric decorating your floor. His cock looks even better than you remember, but he snaps his fingers in front of your face to gather your attention.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your trance.

“Pick up the phone,” he repeats, reaching to your bedside table to hand you your cell.

You take the device from him, looking at it with confusion. You were embarrassed that you hadn’t even noticed it ringing, far too distracted by the sight of him stroking his hand along his length, but your embarrassment soon turns into dread as you read the caller ID.

It is, of course, none other than your boyfriend.

“Sylus, that’s— that’s crazy,” you stammer out, looking between his eyes, his cock, and your phone.

He snickers, and he flips you onto your stomach, his hands grasping onto the plush of your hips to pull your ass up. “What’s crazy is the fact that you expect me to fuck you without your boyfriend’s knowledge.”

“You’re above adultery?” you gasp out.

Sylus shakes his head, his hand moving to prod your entrance with the tip of his cock, his other hand grasping onto your hair to pull you back against his chest.

“Obviously not,” he replies, licking along the shell of your ear. “Just wanna show him how beneath it you are.”

Your heart slams against your chest as he takes the device from you and answers the call, holding the phone to your ear.

“Let him hear,” he purrs, slowly pushing his cock inside of you. “The noises you make with my cock buried inside you are such a prize. It’d be a disservice to not share.”

A sharp whine leaves your lips as he tugs on your hair, tilting your head to give himself better access to your neck as he bottoms out inside of you. “Tell him what you’re up to, sweetie,” he simply says, sucking a faint mark onto your neck.

On the other end of the line, your partner begins to blab on about his day, though you’re hardly able to listen, not when Sylus is pushing his cock inside of you like a madman. Your body tenses as he stretches you out, the sensation forcing a moan out of your mouth, though the man on the other end of the line didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, resting his chin on the crook of your shoulder to press an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “taking my cock so nicely. Missed this pussy so much.”

“—so then, I told him… wait. Are you with someone?”

Your heart rate skyrockets as Sylus draws his hips back only to pound the length of his cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck… y-yes,” you choke into the phone, almost breathless.

“Thank you for your confession, my dear,” Sylus teasingly remarks, knowing that your response was a reaction to how good he feels inside of you rather than an answer to your boyfriend’s question.

He presses a faint kiss to your shoulder as he thrusts into you again, using his grip on your hair to push you back onto your stomach. He then brings the phone to his own ear, watching with a wide grin as you arch your back to take as much of his cock as you can.

“Our friend can’t talk right now,” he says into the receiver, grunting as your walls clench around him. “She’s gotten lost and found herself on my cock, which is such a positive turn of events, let me tell you,” the pace of his hips thrusting into you only seems to get more intense with each word he says, “considering it’s right where she belongs.”

“W-what? Who the fuck are you? I—”

“I can’t stay on the line to talk much either,” Sylus continues, his free hand grasping a bit tighter onto your hair as he tugs on it to fuck deeper and harder inside of you, his skin slapping against yours with each heavy thrust. “Have to make her cum for all the times you couldn’t.”

You’re lost in a whirlwind of sensations, your mouth gaped open as you moan out with each thrust he makes, your back arched as much as you could make it. You can feel a pool of warmth building inside of your lower stomach, and you let out a cry of pleasure.

You haven’t been fucked this good in, well… six months. That much is obvious to the both of you, given the way you’ve been losing your mind with each forceful push of his hips. He knows your body in ways you’ll never understand, and luckily for you, you don’t need to understand in order to receive the pleasure that he’s desperately trying to give you.

“Sylus!” you gasp out, serving as a warning for how close you already are.

“Mm, gotta go, duty calls,” Sylus says into the phone, releasing his grip on your hair to move his hand between your legs, two of his fingers circling your clit. “Call my woman again and I’ll kill you.”

Tapping the screen to end the call, he tosses your phone mindlessly, and it’s only when you hear it drop against the floor do you turn around to look at him.

“Sylus!” you scold.

He gives you a wry smile as he slowly pulls out of you, rolling you onto your back. “I’ll buy you a new one, pretty. Don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to protest, but when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you again, you’re hardly in the protesting mood at all.

Sylus towers over you, his forearm propping him up as he slowly fucks into you, his red eyes trained to yours. “God, baby, I’ve missed you.”

Almost instinctively, your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. There was a hidden intimacy of this position that you’ve always loved. He obliges to your request, resting his forehead on yours as he thrusts harder inside of you.

“You take me so well,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “So, so beautifully.”

You mewl at the softness of his praise, your eyes glossing over as he continues to fuck you into oblivion, your walls tensing around him. He hisses at the feeling, dipping his head to press a kiss on your cheek.

He can tell that you’re close, and he knows just what you need. He won’t give it to you so easily, though.

“Sweetie?” he breathes out.

You nod your head before breathlessly replying, “yeah?”

Sylus gives you a smirk as he raises his bruised finger to your lips. “Kiss it better. Let me use it on you.”

Protest is not on your agenda anymore, not by a long shot. You kiss the pad of his finger without hesitation, and you proceed to capture it with your mouth, your tongue soothing the bruising.

He smiles at the sight, a groan leaving his lips as he continues to thrust his cock inside of you. “So pretty, baby. God, you’re beautiful.”

Sylus retracts his finger from your mouth to bring it to your clit, his spit-slick finger rubbing it in beautiful, moan-earning circles. He watches as your eyes almost immediately haze over at the stimulation.

He lowers his head to suck on your nipple, his free hand palming at your other breast as means of stimulating you in any way he can. After a moment, he latches onto your other breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak.

“God, ah— Sylus!” you moan, your hands wrapping around his neck.

He nips at your breast before he pulls away, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as he feels you clench around his cock. “You gonna come for me again, beautiful?”

You nod your head, rising up from the pillow to press a kiss on his lips, and his large hand moves to cup the back of your head as he kisses you through your orgasm. His fingers gently thread through your hair, giving you the best of both worlds.

“Cream my cock, baby. It’s all yours, always will be,” he mutters against your lips, his thrusts growing slower as he twitches inside of you.

Sylus breaks the kiss to look down at you, a heavy pant leaving him. “Where do you want me?” he breathlessly asks.

As if that were a question you ever responded differently to, he still needed to ask, even though you answered just the same. “In… in me.”

He nods his head as he thrusts inside of you a few more times, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek as he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full of his thick, white cum.

A moment passes in which the two of you simply pant breathlessly to each other, your sweaty foreheads pressed together. It was a beautiful scene by all measures.

“I missed you too,” you finally pant out, a smile breaking your lips. “I missed you a lot.”

He chuckles breathlessly at that. “I missed you even more, sweetie.”

Sylus presses a soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly pulls out of you, traveling slowly to your bathroom before returning with a damp towel. He settles in front of you again, using the warm towel to gently clean up the mess he’s made of you between your legs.

You stare at him with the most lovestruck eyes he’s ever seen, and it only makes him smile. “You tired, baby?” he lowly asks.

Nodding your head, you extend your arms to him, and he pulls you into his arms without question. He lies down on his back, holding you against his chest. His large hand runs over your back while the other one tugs your blankets over the both of you, giving you a bit of warmth.

Not that he needed anything more than your presence. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, holding the woman that he loves, running his fingers through her hair just as he used to.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. It’s almost concerning how much he loves you, but he can’t help it.

“I love you,” you lazily return the sentiment.

As you cuddle into his chest, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up today, if he’d left you alone, if he let you move on.

You know it’s crazy to think about.

After all, it’s Sylus. Your Sylus. He’s the only person you’ve ever needed, and now that he’s reminded you of that, you won’t forget it.

note: thank you for reading! please interact if you enjoyed!! <3 i don’t even know what the hell this is—we have possessive, dominant, and soft sylus in one go. but hey, it works for me, so i hope it works for you. pls pls pls give me ideas to write more for this sexy man—i never get tired of him!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[uzurakis]

hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

[livinghalfway]

Right Reasons; Wrong Kid

Summary: Batfam thinks Damian is being kidnapped when they see Danny getting manhandled into a car by Vlad; Danny loves to make Vlad's life difficult and puts up a fight getting into the car.

Word Count: 1450

Being in Gotham was the last place Danny wanted to be today, especially when he had to be here with Vlad. The fruitloop had somehow convinced his parents that he should go to this stupid three day business conference with him.

While Danny can't make any decisions right now he can certainly make Vlad regret his. Which is why Danny doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment at what he is currently doing.

"Daniel, get in the car." Vlad hissed at him with a tight smile as they both stood outside of the building the conference was being hosted in.

"No." He said; even going as far as to take a step backwards to further spite the man in front of him.

It was clear Vlad was losing his patience with him if the subtle flash of red in his eyes is anything to go off of. "Daniel, I won't ask again. Get in the car now, or I can drag you in. The choice is yours, but you will be getting in this car one way or another."

"You really gonna drag a kid into your car in front of all these people you're trying so hard to impress?" Danny looked from side to side at all the people congregating on the sidewalk and steps as they wait for their vehicles to arrive.

"I'm hardly the first person they've seen that has had to deal with a stubborn child refusing to listen." Vlad says as he takes a threatening step forward, "Now get in the car."

"No."

Seemingly annoyed but not surprised Vlad takes a deep breath before his hand, like a snake, strikes forward and grabs a hold of him before beginning to pull. Just as quickly though Danny is trying to pull away with just as much strength. Quickly taking a moment to look around he sees that others are already starting to look in their direction; perfect.

With him distracted though Vlad was able to get a sharp tug on him causing him to stubble towards the car. Before he can fall into the car though Danny is shooting his foot forward, firmly planting it down as his hands land on both sides of the open car door.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, fruitloop. I can't make it too easy for you." Danny teased as he fought against Vlad’s pushing.

Vlad doesn't say anything back to him besides giving a low growl. This situation is clearly not going the way he wanted to and Vlad’s frustration was starting to show, and Danny was determined to watch this man break in front of all these people he so desperately wanted to impress.

He locked his arms and knees when he felt Vlad start pushing harder against his back. Preparing himself to jump to the side the moment Vlad loosened his grip even slightly. What he wasn't prepared for though was for the weight pushing against him to suddenly disappear.

"What is going on here?" A deceivingly friendly voice sounds out behind him.

Before Danny can realize what has just happened though a much stronger hand is gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the open car door. Finally able to see more than just the car's interior Danny see's that three other men are now standing by the car.

Two of them, a teen not much older than himself and a middle aged man, are standing in front of him as if forming a wall between him and Vlad. Who is being held in place by the third man.

Danny can see that Vlad was just as thrown off by these strangers as he is based on the startled look on his face. What confuses him though is when instead of becoming angry like he expects Vlad only looks surprised as he takes in the three guys with them.

"Bruce Wayne!" Vlad announces with a tight grin, "I was just trying to get my son to cooperate with me and get in the car. I'm sure you understand how teenage boys are."

"I'm not your son!" Danny instinctively yells out; no way in hell was he going to let Vlad tell people they were any way related.

It took him a second to register what name Vlad had even said.

Bruce Wayne? He remembers Sam and Tucker talking about that guy and his family when they found out he was going to Gotham. Which means if he's remembering correctly then the young man next to Vlad is most likely Dick Grayson and the older teen next to him is Tim Drake.

Without looking at him Bruce leans towards him and whispers, "Shh Damian, let me handle this."

Wait. What?

"I'm not-" Danny tried to say that his name wasn't Damian, but was quickly interrupted before he could.

"Damian, quiet." Bruce lowly growls; still not moving his gaze to look at Danny. "Actually, Mr. Masters, you'll find that this is my son, and I don't think you should be putting your hands on him."

Vlad looks from Bruce to Danny and then back to Bruce, "While I do agree that you and Daniel share some resemblance this is not your son Mr. Wayne."

It seems Bruce wasn't going to entertain Vlad's "lie" because he still doesn't bother to even look at Danny. Tim on the other hand seems to consider what Vlad said, and turns to actually look at his face.

Danny almost laughs out loud when he sees shock immediately overtake Tim's face. At least one of these fruit loops is smart enough to recognize that he isn't the youngest Wayne.

"Bruce, this isn't Damian." Tim states with wide eyes still locked with his.

Upon hearing this the other two Wayne's finally take a hard look at Danny for themselves.

"Oh my God B, that's not Damian!" Dick exclaims before releasing his hold on Vlad.

Bruce on the other hand is frozen in shock as he stares at Danny as he comes to the realization that the boy in front of him is in fact not his youngest son. Snapping himself out of his stupor, the older man finally addresses Vlad. "Mr. Masters, my deepest apologies. It seems this young man and my son look remarkably alike, and I assumed the worst when I saw him fighting to get into the car."

Vlad takes a step forward towards Danny clear with his intentions of getting them into the car now, but before he can grab him Bruce is once more taking a step in front of Danny. "I would actually like to have a quick word with Daniel if you won't mind."

"And why is that?"

"I have a son his age after all, maybe I can help ease this teenage rebellion phase, and cause less fights when it comes to getting in the car."

Danny must have been more focused on the growing argument in front of him more than he thought because he ends up slightly jumping when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right he sees that Dick is now standing next him with a soft smile. "Daniel, right?"

“Danny actually, and you’re Dick?”

"Yup! That's me," He gestures to the boy standing on Danny's other side, "and this is Tim. Sorry about all this; we thought our brother was being kidnapped."

"Do I seriously look that much like him?" At this point Danny had to meet Damian if the guy's family was even confusing the two of them.

Tim is giving him a concentrated look when he replies, "It's like the two of you could be twins or maybe even clones. The eye color is the biggest difference between the two of you."

If Danny didn't know any better he would think Tim was accusing him of being a clone based on the tone of his voice. He knew Gotham was weird, but he didn't think he would have to worry about cloning here. "While I was adopted when I was pretty young, but I think I'd know if I had a twin or if I was a clone."

"Crazy things happen all the time in Gotham."

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Danny can't believe saying this, but it's probably time to get Vlad's attention and get the hell out of here. He already has one crazy fruitloop to worry about; he doesn't need more. "Vlad, I think we really need to-."

“Father, what is the meaning of all this?” A new voice interrupts him, and when he sees who it is truly shocking to see a mirror of his own face. The other is also now looking at him with something akin to shock and grief.

“Damian?”

“Danyal.”