#caught up in the rapture

[tha-wrecka-stow]

[cleoselene]

song of the day

Anita Baker - Caught Up in the Rapture

[simulacra-x-simulation]

I was tagged by @astarkey to post my lock screen, last movie I watched, last song I listened to, and the last photo I took.

Thank you Sweetie!! ♥️🤎🖤

[keykeylocke]

I was jamming to Anita Baker in my car today. Her music is so good.

Fairytales

Same Ole Love

Talk to Me

Caught Up in the Rapture

I Apologize

and so many more 🎵🎵🎵❤️❤️❤️

[iobartach]

[dogshit-enchantment]

Can't stop thinking about how earlier I was archiving a website full of fanart (aka furiously scouring it to save everything of artistic merit) and ended up finding some fuckin Very Sincere n*zi flavored fanart like. Damn. I forgot that just a bit over a decade ago fandom was fucking entrenched in that shit with no small thanks to h*t*lia.

I hope the artist has grown as a person since then x_x

[thepopoptic]

Keep looking up.

[easeupkid]

every day we get closer to a new samia album………..

[rumplteazer]

beloved cats friends and mutuals i hope you’re all doing well out there

[cosycafune]

NO ESCAPE ZONE…

1.7k words. sure, you’re supposed to be taking sylus’ measurements. yet, what happens when you’re sexually drawn away, pushing forward an offer that the two of you can’t refuse? once you’ve made a deal, you have to keep it.

acts: oral (m) receiving, throat fucking, gagging, whimpers, facial, cum-swallowing, crying, sadistic tendencies, massive cock, slight cock warming, almost getting caught and more.

a/n: he’s officially my favourite now. like, he’s the perfect man. argue with the wall if you think I’m wrong. 1/3. pt2 here.

────୨ৎ────

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

PROPPED within such a delicate space, your heart boisterous, you remain before Sylus. A measuring tape embroiders your fingers, leaving you a contorted mess — your fingers situated against his sculpted abs.

“Do you want me to wear the wrong size?” Snarky aloofness mixes into Sylus’ question.

Patronisation stains him while he looks down at you, his crimson eyes slicing into your facade. Wickedly, mischief tints a composed Sylus. It sculpts him into soft grunting at your touch becoming more intense.

Skilful, you clumsily back into Sylus’ chest. His closeness clamps around your mental functions, rendering you breathless. Attempting to scoff, to paint yourself as unbothered, you continue to take in Sylus’ measurements.

“With your cloudy mind, you are going to mess up my outfit,” Informing you, Sylus’ vibrating tone causes your breath to hitch. All the stability within you was beginning to falter.

“Stop complaining,” Stubbornly countering Sylus, you allow your delicate fingers to fall against his v-line.

Blooming with forbidden thoughts, you cast yourself into becoming bolder. Tracing the intricate curves of his abs, you lightly disregard the measuring tape. Unable to revert, you continue — knowing this is a no-escape zone.

“You can do whatever, but we’ll have to strike a deal, sweetie,” Taunting you, Sylus gruffly speaks — observing you drift your hand incredibly lower.

“Mhm, you can do whatever you want to me, Sy’,” Responding to him, you momentarily gather the courage to sensually flutter your eyelashes at him.

“Be careful of what you put on the bargaining table,” Uncaring at Sylus’ warning, you roughly drift your hand lower — casting your palm into resting against his cock outline.

Mesmerised, you plaster yourself into listening to his rapturous heartbeat. Grinning, you develop lustful at Sylus’ stolen groans — pushing you into cruelly squeezing.

“Is gentleness not an attribute of yours?” Grunting, Sylus cloudily questions you.

“Your body begs to differ,” Mocking Sylus, you teasingly trail over the ample outline — listening to his sensitive gasps.

“Damn, s-sweetie,” Stripped of composure, Sylus voices his guarded heart — curling into your fingers prying at his concealed fly.

Riddled with tainted control, you greet Sylus’ fluttering eyes. Naturally, he tries to suppress his anticipation — beads of sweat contrasting his coolness. Happiness festoons you while you silently unbutton his trousers.

Bubbling with ropes of control, you allow his elusive trousers to fall — completely pooling before the both of you.

Smothered with commitment, you glance at Sylus’ thick, girthy, pre-cum, adorned erection. An erection that’s scarcely caged, pointing greedily in your direction.

“Your body always goes against your mental stoicism,” Corrupting Sylus’ sanity, you lowly speak — pushing eagerly closing your plush thighs.

“Is that why… you’re clenching your thighs?” Fixed with a strained expression, Sylus’ territorial inquiry causes you to innocently puff out your cheeks.

“Is there any reason to lie to you?” Raising your brow, you counter Sylus’ point — beginning to disregard his cock-blocking underwear.

“If you were a fool, of course,” Your abdomen curls, refined by butterflies at Sylus’ snarky remark.

It completely aroused you, pushing you into straining the ache that wells within your toned thighs. Pushing with a restrained might, you almost cave at Sylus’ clouded gaze resting upon a lust-trembling you.

Shaping yourself mentally, you lower yourself with every fabric tug — inching painfully nearer to Sylus’ throbbing cock. Shuddering with longing, you admire every vein that greets your smitten eyes. Sheerly his v-line made you almost finish, riddled with your release between your clamped thighs.

Lowered before him, dominance still ravelled around a patient Sylus, you continue to watch as his girth cock eventually releases itself from his briefs. Drool adorns your lips while you admire the thickness of his precum-beaded tip.

Nothing within you could manage yourself as you loudly gulp, allowing his underwear to properly fall. Dutiful, you push yourself into grasping his girth — smearing your fingers against the midst of his large cock.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” Admiring you, Sylus admits his thoughts — glancing down at you with admiration.

“You’re next, Sy’,” Too enamoured by his monstrous cock, you whine with longing — wanting to fill yourself up with his cock.

However, you’re in a reserved place.

“What was that?” Eagerly questioning you, Sylus softly moans at your lips parting — gently kissing upon the tip of his dripping cock.

Before you could consensually glance at him, Sylus releases crimson and raven tentacles from his evol. Satisfyingly humming, he casts himself into smugly glancing at you — consumed by you hungrily greeting his gaze.

“You…heard me,” Replying hazily to him, you reach towards mentally satisfying your sexual trance.

Being swiftly released, you blanket a hand around Sylus’ inhumane cock — relishing the delicate, veiny skin. Focusing your lips, you pepper tender kisses — consumed by the idea of satisfying him.

Filtering your hearing, you pluck out the hefty sounds of Sylus’ needy moans, his breathless pants, his silently voiced eagerness. To you, it was obvious that the heartless man was riddled with an immense amount of pleasure.

Content with how effective your touch is, you widen your warm mouth — burrowing Sylus’ tip between your saliva-tinted lips. Slimming your cheeks, you contently suck down on his tip — innocently flaunting your glimmering eyes.

Unable to stop yourself, you prepare your mouth for more —- flattening your tongue before you push your head further. Completely enticed, you lodge your mouth with Sylus’s cock — rewarded by his subconscious moans.

Flustered, you mellowly watch his cheeks grow blessed with a crimson hue. Pleased at the rare sighting, your curiosity peaks at Sylus’ fingers yearning to burrow into your hair and guide you.

Honoured, you strategically fill more of your mouth with Sylus’ girth. Knowing his heavy cock would be hard to fully put into your mouth, you take a little bit more — filling your mouth so obediently.

“Oh, yes,” Unwilling to quell his moans, Sylus completely releases them. His lips part with his intense gaze glancing down at you, his eyes rolling back effortlessly.

Fond at Sylus’ enjoyment, you softly bob your head — feeling every vein whilst you intensely suck down. The warmth of his cock stains your mouth while saliva drips from your lips, supporting the pace that you set for your mouth.

Contently sucking, Sylus subconsciously bucks his hips into your mouth — his fingers grazing your forehead. Beautifully obeying him, you listen to his every moan — love-stricken by the gushy sounds of your cock-sucking.

“This…is the…best way of shutting you up,” Playfully rolling your eyes at Sylus’ scrambled words, you harshen your pace — watching silence envelop a trembling him.

“Ah! Yes!” Unable to control his breathing, Sylus’ frantic moans continue to spill over you.

As he watches you through strained eyes, Sylus softly bucks his hips into your mouth. Stirred on, Sylus strengthened his pace while you fruitfully gag on his cock. Unwilling to pull back, teary at his pleasurable pace, you grow flustered at the heavy squelching sounds that flee from your lips.

“Such a…good girl,” Sylus contently praises you, throwing his head back.

Testing your limits, Sylus pushes your head against the base of his cock — turned on by your heavy gagging. Lightly pulling back, your face riddled with tears, you grin at him.

“Too much?” Concerned, Sylus’ beams of affection tint his question.

“More,” Wooed by Sylus’ subconscious yearning, you gesture for him to throat fuck you.

Blanketed by your compliance, Sylus casts himself into slamming his cock into your mouth. Your heavy tears falling completely turn him on, leading to him quickening his pace further at the lewd sounds of his cock fucking your throat.

“Close, my…sweet,” An aggressive, focused expression tints Sylus’ face while he watches you, so near to finishing.

Nodding lazily, Sylus’ pace effortlessly creates an impossible momentum. Narrowly struggling to keep up, your eyes flutter at him burying your mouth impossibly with almost every inch of him.

“Hm, take… it,” Smushing your lips against his cock base, Sylus almost hunches over with his energy-consuming statement.

Flushed, Sylus’ worded murmurs completely stain your ears. Ears before he holds your mouth there, hardening effortlessly. Almost rendered breathless, you hold out for him — listening to him moan extremely loudly. His loudness leaves your thudding cunt a pooling mess, in need of being touched upon and coddled.

Grunting so audibly, Sylus relaxes whilst his throbbing cock shoots out thick, warm cum down your throat. It causes him to almost bellow a whimper at the sensitivity, panting harshly whilst his balls are finally empty.

Strained with pleasurable tiredness, Sylus happily pulls back from a used you. A small beam frames his lips while he admires your smudged mascara, your streaming tears, the cum and saliva bubbling around your lips, along with the drops staining your clothes.

“Swallow,” Sylus dominantly instructs you to do so, accidentally bringing himself to finish against your face.

Gasping, you slightly flinch at his thick beads of cum caressing your eyelashes. However, you then hear the sound of a worker stirring nearer to your reserved spot. Panic arises within you, causing you to hyper fixation on the cum staining your face.

You’re far from presentable.

“Sy—”

“—Are you ready for your measurements to be finalised?” A worker so cheerily asks, causing you to stifle your breaths — embarrassed.

“I think I’ve already finalised my measurements,” Smirking, Sylus responds to her — gently placing his cock back into his briefs.

“I’ll be available if you need to finalise for customisation,” As she speaks, you frown at Sylus smoothing out his sexual ruffles — leaving you on your knees.

“Perfect,” Sylus announces, observing you pout — a little annoyed at him simply staring.

“A little help here?” Completely pulverised, you croakily speak. Large specks of cum rest upon your face and within your styled hair.

“Sure, but I’ll be sure to fulfil my half of the deal,” Softly informing you, Sylus gently lifts you, “Once we get back to my home.” Amused by the degrading sexual look you wear, Sylus admires you — mellow.

He wasn’t done with you, yet. 1/3.

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[screampied]

Hii vegas!! Lil request 🙏🙏 brat taming w jealous!Sukuna BUTTTT with Sukuna doing it in front of his servants(if u already did this u can ignore this request!!)

—Sukunas no.1 glazer

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, jealous kuna, heian era! sukuna, exhibitionism, cōckwarming, dirty talk, praise, mdni.

it’s become known that sukuna doesn’t like when other eyes are all on you.

the moment he spots his servants laying their filthy eyes on his beloved favorite human, he scoffs in vex. the audacity, he didn’t like people staring at what’s his. but of course out of all days, you decided to be a brat. “c’mere,” a simple word and you were at his usual beck and call. the demon pats a hand against his manspread lap, ushering for you to take your rightful seat. his seat was his throne whilst yours was right on his thigh. taking your sweet, precious time and dragging your feet against the slick marmoreal floor, he snarls. “woman, don’t waste my time. my lap, now.”

“you all, c’mere,” he snaps his fingers with a sly eyebrow raise.

sukuna’s got a vicious gaze at his low ranked servants, a good dozen of them nearly shivering at his command. they create haste, standing in front of his throne, awaiting for his next orders.

“and lastly, you,” and his voice pitches a deep low. you merely gulp, feeling one of his arms sling around your waist, another creating a teasing trail down your nape. bringing a chaste kiss toward the outer part of your earlobe, he whispers salaciously. “you love testin’ my patience, huh. i was watching you earlier. i don’t like you giving my pathetic servants your precious attention.”

“oops,” you hum, and he’s not so fond of your cheeky attitude. as your back lies against his bare, broad chest - you’re facing the eyes of the fearful lackeys. still, they’re looking at you, some desperately wishing they were in your shoes.

oh, to be lucky enough to take a throne on the sukuna ryomen’s notorious lap. anyone who tried without his word would have easily been caught dead. alas, you were the exception. “was jus’ sayin’ hi, ‘kuna.”

“tch. don’t make me laugh, princess,” he murmurs, and your breath hitches once he sprawls your legs open a bit. “saying ‘hi’ doesn’t take you fifteen minutes, but i’ll spare you,” and with the way his voice delivers, it was a snarky growl underneath. timbre and haughty, you felt the sudden twitch between your thighs almost immediately.

he wasn’t gonna spare you,

in fact— you figured he’d do something else like maybe bend you over his knee and spank you. but sukuna had another thing in mind.

a thing where you’d be taking his cock right in front of his servants. staring them dead in the eyes as you’re creaming down their righteous king’s shaft.

as you’re barreling his hefty length, you shudder the moment you feel his second cock brush up against your sopping folds. they were stacked upon each other but your pussy’s main focus was on the one directly in front, not behind.

“good girl, easy. don’t go down too quick or ya might break,” and your body twitches in rapture once his feverish breath dances against your skin. “heh, ‘s that what you want? to be broken?”

“y- yes,” you mewl out, making a failing attempt to rock your hips against his lap. his servants claw their nails into their thighs, the awkward tension wafting against the air like wind as they just stare. the fact that dozens of eyes were seeing you like this made you throb. convulsing pulses multiply and shoot through your folds before a big hand wraps around your throat. chortling in a raspy manner, sukuna spanks your ass for you to hurry. sinking down on his thickset dick makes your toes curl - he’s big. chewing on your lip, you moan. “kuna, ‘s fuckin’ big, fuuuuck.”

“what a nasty fuckin’ mouth,” he growls, and another one of his hands goes toward your drooling, weeping cunt. a palm swiftly swats against your entrance, allowing your legs to sprawl wider and you whimper. “mhm, brat. this is supposed to be a punishment but y’er just turned on, huh,” and as you’re all the way down on his cock, feeling the tiny pressuring prod and pierce through your tummy, you nod against his chest. “thought so,” he chuckles lowly, stern ruby eyes leering toward his servants. “look at her. none of you will be this wet for me, acknowledge that.”

as he’s speaking to them as if they’re below him, and in this case—they were,

while another one of his hands toy against your folds, your slit dribbles with slick and you’re happily coating his base with your juices. your legs were about to collapse and you moan whilst sukuna’s pitchy deep voice rumbles in the background. his voice,

it’s heavily intimidating. booming and loud, no one dared to defy him.

it’s so gruff and smothered with authoritative baritone that it rings and reverberates throughout the sacred walls of his domain. his scent, his rich cologne scent clogs through your nostrils as your legs struggle to maintain its stillness. “f- fuck, ‘kuna ‘m not gonna l- last,” you whine, chest deflating within each breath snatching out your lungs. with a hand gripping his thigh, yanking on the silk made fabric of his kimono—you whimper. “s- sukunaaa.”

“such a sensitive little thing,” he tsks, cockily shaking his head side to side before one of his arms wraps around your torso. the demon’s cock, fat and all, buries itself completely into you and you moan the moment you try to grind back on him. it’s pathetic, all that bratiness earlier and now, you were already creaming. it comes quick, so quick that you barely even have time to react. his peeling foreskin that’s attached near the crown of his dick tickles against your gummy walls, relishing in your goopy grip. “oh,” he murmurs, feeling your sweet slick drench him from the base down. the entire time, the king’s got the most haughty grin, feeling your human body slump against his soft tatted chest in its defeat. “that was early, princess. a bit too early.”

you whimper, still coming undone and the white noise ringing in your ears only intensifies. panting repeatedly, you squeeze against his thigh before the only words you could sputter out was, “s- sukuna, ‘kuna- more.”

“heh, always a greedy girl,” he grunts, feeling his cock twitch at your simple plea. the pesky servants were appalled, witnessing such lewd activity before them. sukuna ryomen and his favorite human. with a titter, one of his hands gives your cunt a good squeeze, snickering at how you easily gush all out on the center of his palm. “who’s pussy does this belong to though, tell me,” and his eyes dart toward the little audience, his former jealously subsiding a bit. “tell our friends too, let ‘em know, princess.”

his touch was so sharp—you gasp, feeling an extra limb of his grab against your neglected breasts, a thumb flicking against your perky nipples that poke out of your cottony blouse. “ngh, belongs to y- you, ‘kuna.”

with a single hand, he turns your head, glancing near his extra peripherals of the incoming drool that’s seeping from the corners of your mouth. once he cranes your head, he makes you stare straight at his servants. “uh huh, tell them. tell them who’s pussy ‘s my favorite.”

“m- mine,” you moan, his touch making you shudder in utmost pleasure. glossy eyes meet the dozens of people - secretly sucking their teeth and growing envious of you, of you getting off to this entire thing. a few of them shamelessly yearned to be in your place, but they knew with you in the picture, they never stood a chance. “my p- pussy’s your favorite, ‘kuna. ‘m yours.”

“good girl,” he praises, and you’re still on his lap with his twitching cock shoved deep into your clingy walls. with a hand again, he turns your head to the side to face him briefly - sneaking a wet kiss near your lips for a few seconds. you moan, feeling the edges of his fangs and his forked tongue collide and mash inside of your mouth.

all hands of his feel and wander and roam against your body at such a slow pace, you whimper before he gives his unworthy servants one final side eye.

“show’s over. get lost,” he snarls, and they all scatter like flies. the large darkened room’s finally empty, and it’s just you and your king.

sukuna hums in amusement at your state, the brat within you nowhere to be found before he whispers against your ear. the final words of the demon not only makes your cunt twitch but a shiver runs down your spine. “seems like my girl needs a bit more training. now now, since we have some privacy, we should try one of my favorites. full nelson,” and he purrs.

“i wanna see you take both of me, princess. be a good girl ‘n bend over for your king.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

out of pure curiosity, how the hell does soap use mer reader as a sex toy👺

and I love reading about the mer au pls give us more

rants are fine, we accept them wholeheartedly🫶

right, purely out of curiosity ;) consider this a follow-up to Soap chasing you down and indulging his baser instincts with you.

Soap is fascinated with your hands. the strange little suction pads on your palms. the way you groom his scales, the way they feel on his skin. how do they work?

he begins to develop a healthy curiosity about how they might feel elsewhere.

Soap asks you not at all casually how thoroughly you clean the other mer. or yourself—do you skim over the more sensitive parts of your own anatomy? he's eager to know. his filthy mind cycles through image after image of teaching you how shark mer like to be touched.

or, fuck, of you showing him what makes you feel good.

you notice as you groom him how he pays such close attention. the muscles in his lower stomach twitch when you brush your hands over the front of his tail.

seeing him that way rouses your curiosity, too. maybe he's right. maybe you do need to clean him more thoroughly.

⬇ nsfw, monster dicks, merman sex under the cut ⬇

you run your hands up and down his members (two, remember), disguising your perverse interest as innocent dedication to your craft. you're just doing your job, right? you’re certainly not getting anything out of this. not at all. no thoughts in your sweet head.

still. you’re not as smart as you think you are if you believe this ends any other way than him fucking you like a fleshlight.

it takes so little effort for him to wrap his hands around your hips and maneuver you where he wants you. he brushes his thumbs over the sensitive notch at the front of your tail, the subtle slit becoming more flushed the more arousal floods your body. his eyes zero in.

handling you like the sex toy you are, he pulls you closer and nudges himself in. you squeak, feeling the stretch--but you're not worried about taking all of him. you were built to service big mer. of course you can take it <3

you're happy to let him use you and he’s starving to finally take what he wants. he moves you up and down on one of his cocks. the other rubs over that sensitive region, scraping the outside of your pussy until you’re speaking in tongues.

you’re dizzy, not only caught up in the physical sensation, but also the oxytocin-laced high of how much pleasure you’re giving him. how much he wants this from you.

he watches where your bodies connect--the way you grip him--and then the way your eyes droop with drunken pleasure.

you're so rapturously happy with how much he likes this. how valuable you are right now--it's intoxicating. and the way he praises you--not with words, but implicitly, with the way he groans and his hands tighten, the way he squeezes you bruisingly hard and spills his spend into your body.

you're fulfilling your purpose this way.

...

more mer au /more Soap / masterlist tag

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey

gn reader

Thinking about being a pretty little bunny caught in the claws of two big bad wolves…

They both cram themselves inside the same hole – fucking you rhythmically alongside each other with your smaller body pressed between theirs.

Sharp claws dent your flesh while canines fully split it open – imprinting on your fragile skin unforgivingly deep – leaving it to bruise and gush with blood the moment they spill the last of their big weighty balls inside you – both at the same time.

And after knots unknot and stiff thickness deflate – turning soft before slumping out of your abused hole – you’re finally allowed to rest in a mixture of bitter-sweet relief. 

Gratefully accepting their long-awaited finish – you slump against the sweaty chest before you with the face of your cheek smushed tight against the soothing warmth – hole fluttering numbly around nothing with the ticklish feeling of hot cum slowly trickling out only to go cold in the air.

Their sounds turn soft with a loss of growls and sharp teeth, and the one behind you places a kiss on your cheek, telling you that he’s proud – his breaths heavy and damp against your skin while he rests his sweaty forehead and slick mane softly against you. 

Both of them hug you gently – pressed tight between them – and slowly work on retrieving some semblance worth of strength while caught in the hefty crash of rapture – bodies ablaze yet steadily cooling with hearts halting in their sporadic run – dying down into slow thuds, draining until they’re both just two heaps of unwound muscles.

A couple of minutes more just like that and one of them leaves you with a groan while other begins lazily kissing and licking you in aftercare – his warm tongue laving gently over the brutal lovebites they’ve left on your otherwise pretty skin – whispering soothingly that he only wants to clean them up, so you don’t catch any unwanted infections. 

But his efforts of comfort don’t really help you keep from trembling or whimpering, nor do they help ease your erratic breath – where you sit between his legs, held tightly to his chest with both his thick arms wrapped effortlessly snug around your much smaller waist.

He's in charge of getting you cleaned up and dressed while his partner preps dinner – you hear the wolf downstairs with pots and pans while the one he’d left you with pulls you into a white babydoll – helping you stand where you wobble with hips aching upon every little move. 

He tells you that you're the cutest, making you yelp when squeezing your cottontail before picking you up like a wounded animal – as though you're incapable of making it down the stairs alone.

The stench of dead animals oozing from the kitchen makes you queasy more than hungry – but your captors, on the other hand, easily work up an appetite with the taste of your blood still fresh on their teeth. 

The thunderous sound of their stomach rumbling is all too much to keep you from crying – despite the warning you’d received the last time you’d created too much of a fuss for them – when one of them had forced bits of meat down your throat, making you chew and swallow it all one torturous bite at a time until you’d finally learned your lesson, willingly opening your mouth for him despite flinching and crying at the unnatural stomach-twisting taste. 

He'd seemed somewhat sorry seeing you throw up for days from both disgust and indigestion – and had since tried making up for it by preparing proper meals catered to your diet.

You were happy to see the medley of leafy greens and baby carrots plated for you on the dinner table, averting your eyes from the massive medium rare steaks the two dogs loudly and hungrily started cutting into – lop ears flinching upon the clash of sharp knives crashing hungrily against ceramics – trying to withhold the whimper when seeing the mixture of blood and grease roll down their chins along with the unsightly view of their sharp teeth tearing through tendons as effortlessly as if it were nothing but the same grass on your plate.

Fruit for dessert is nearly enough to lift the nausea while the three of you snuggle on the couch after dinner. Or perhaps you’d just gotten used to it – they always get lazy after eating after all – and cuddly.

You lie on top of one of them, your back against his broad chest – lifting with the rise and fall of his beaths. The other lies on top of you again, on his belly. He tells you to scratch his ears, and you don’t dare refuse him.

He moans when you rub on the tip between your small fingers – resting his head atop your heart before starting to drool, small growls ever-present in his snores. His tail lifts and slowly starts wagging in drowsiness as he gives the inside of your ear a ticklish lick – making you cringe and whine.

The one beneath you rests his chin atop your head, chuckling at the two of you – and you really wish you could get used to how the growl in their chests rock your ribs and how their mouths reek of death. Desperately, you try to focus on the smell of bleach and flowers – the ones they’ve bought and brought home to you when trying to distract you from the grocery bags held behind them – chock-full of bloody bits they stock the meat locker with. 

That would be your worst nightmare, you unwillingly think, shuddering at the thought as if consumes you – to be locked up in that room – you’re only glad they’ve yet to think of it as a punishment.

Sometimes you wonder if they’re planning to eat you at some point. You’re certain they understand they can’t successfully breed with you – so it wouldn’t make sense for them to keep you forever, even though they swear to it when you sleep squished between their bodies in the middle of the bed with their massive paws and sturdy claws latched onto your supple flesh.

It's impossible for you to ignore what they are when the whole den has hints of rot lingering in the air, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to let go of the fear. But at the same time… you can’t really deny their love entirely either – not when they rub their snouts into your neck so lovingly, cuddling you tight as though protecting you from any harm, grooming you with their own tongues ticklish against your skin and fur, thoroughly leaving their print and scent on you, fully claiming you as theirs.

BNHA – BakuDeku, TodoBaku, KiriBaku, EndMight, EndHawks, DabiHawks, ShigaDabi

JJK – SatoSugu, Toji x Shiu

HQ – Miya twins

DS – DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 5)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Rafe slammed his lips into yours, prying them open with his tongue, and you immediately allowed him access. Still holding your forearms, he lifted them so you would wrap your arms around his neck. He lightly tapped your lower back and you took it as a signal that he wanted you to jump. You sprang up and he caught you, like he always has. Hands firmly on your ass, he walked the two of you towards the living room.

He dropped you onto the couch roughly, making you yelp as you bounced off the plush cushions. You smiled at Rafe but he didn’t smile back.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded.

Your smile faded, the tone of this interaction was so far from the playful, affectionate intimacy the two of you used to share. But something in the way Rafe looked with his jaw clenched and his eyes fierce made you want to comply with his request. You removed your clothes quickly as he watched, stopping when you were left in only your panties. Rafe crawled over you, causing you to lay back on the couch, your hair fanning around your head. You watched him with rapture as he took off his own shirt, he had clearly been working out quite a bit in the last few years. You didn’t think it was possible to be more attracted to him than you used to be, but you were wrong.

He hovered over you and kissed you again. You could feel him through his sweatpants, ready for you. You moved your leg so it would rub against him and he groaned into your mouth. He moved his lips to your ear and bit down on your earlobe as he grabbed your boobs hard. He’d never been this rough with you, and you were a little frightened by how much you were enjoying it. You couldn’t hold back your words any longer.

“I missed you, ba-” you tried to say.

Rafe lifted his finger to your lips and slipped it inside, silencing you. You were stunned for a second, before wrapping your lips around his finger and sucking, surprised at how hot you found it that he was shutting you up.

“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear as you swirled your tongue around his finger tip. He added a second finger and you welcomed it gladly.

Rafe used to encourage you to be as loud as possible, loving how you talked to him, praising him, confessing how much you loved him when he was inside of you. But if he heard one more word from you then he’d start thinking about how much he loved you, and if he thought about how much he loved you, he’d start thinking about how much you hurt him. This would only work if there was no thinking involved. 

He removed his fingers from your mouth and trailed them down your body. You gasped when he finally made it down to the waistband of your panties. He bent his fingers and rubbed two knuckles over the lacy fabric, the pressure too light, making you buck up when they ghosted over your clit. Your eyes shut and a soft “please” escaped your lips, the sound shooting fire straight through him. He pressed his knuckles in with a little more pressure, and you started writhing, your wetness soaking through your underwear.

“That feels so good,” you whispered. He thought he didn’t want to hear you talk, but the words sounded so good that he figured he’d make an exception. So long as he could keep your words focused on how your body feels and not how your heart feels, he was still in safe territory.

Rafe was holding himself up with one arm, hand next to your head, forearm veins deliciously prominent just a few inches from your face. You looked over at his arm as he continued his work on your lower half. You knew the look of his arms so well, you could probably draw them from memory, but your brow furrowed when you noticed something you hadn’t seen before - a partially healed, blotchy pink scar on his forearm, just above his wrist. The skin was barely healed over, so the scar couldn’t have been too old. 

Rafe looked up from your lower half to catch you looking at the scar on his arm, a prominent frown tugging at your lips.

“What happened?” You asked him, still studying the wound. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged. He hated the empathy he saw in your eyes, despite his hard heart softening slightly at the sight of your concern for him. 

Needing to pull your attention away, he suddenly pushed the fabric of your panties aside and rubbed the pads of his fingers from your entrance up to your clit. Your hand shot down to grab his wrist, stopping the motion.

Your eyes didn’t leave the scar, unable to enjoy this moment and the feeling of his hands on you until you knew where it came from. It could’ve been an accident, maybe he burned himself in the kitchen, or while working on his bike. But something told you that wasn’t the case. There was that eerie intuition you’ve had since you were kids. Despite not having the facts, you still knew him in a way that didn’t make sense to anyone, including you. The idea that he had been in pain, that something had broken him and you weren’t there to fix it, was almost too much for you. Without really thinking it through, you leaned closer to his arm and placed a soft kiss to the scar.

The second your lips met his skin, Rafe pulled his arm away from your head and his hand from your heat, pushing himself off of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, not entirely sure what you were apologizing for, but afraid you had hurt him somehow.

Rafe stood from the couch and stalked over to the window, facing away from you and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“You can’t fucking do shit like that,” he said so quietly, you wondered if he was talking to you or to himself. 

You reached down to the floor and grabbed your shirt, holding it over yourself as you sat up on the couch, suddenly feeling extremely exposed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you explained.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he snapped defensively. You wondered if he was talking about the scar, or something much bigger.

Rafe shook his head, his hand instinctively rubbing over the scar on his arm, as though he could wipe away the feeling of your lips against the marred flesh. You pulled your shirt back over your head and searched for your shorts, the moment was clearly over and you felt like an absolute fool sitting there naked. 

“I should go,” you say as you pull on your shorts. 

The muscles of his bare back tensed but he forced himself to keep his eyes off you, afraid if he saw the hurt look on your face he’d crumble.

“Yeah, you probably should.” 

You weren’t necessarily expecting him to disagree with you, but there was a tiny sliver of hope that he’d ask you to stay. You still had some delusional dream that he’d finally just explain himself to you, hold you and tell you he’d never let you go again. God, you really were a fool.

Rafe winced as he heard you sniffle. You scrambled to find your shoes and pulled the first one on as you ran out of the room, desperate to get out of there before your crying got any more pathetic. 

You ran out the front door, one shoe on and one off. Your mother’s car was gone, the tow truck must’ve pulled it off the property while you were inside. You realized you never even asked Rafe where they were towing it to, meaning you had not only stolen your mother’s car, but now had no idea where it was. You’d really thrown away any hope of ever reconciling with your mom for whatever the fuck just happened in that house. Hot tears began falling down your face, no strength left in you to hold them back.

What a sight it must’ve been to the neighbors - you running away from Tannyhill, clothes askew, tears streaming down your face. It was mid-morning now and a beautiful day, you passed at least a dozen people as you ran directionless down the street.

Two Years Earlier…

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. 

Rafe rapped his knuckles against your front door hard, wincing at the pain. His hand had slammed into the steering wheel hard when he crashed, it was probably sprained, but that was a problem for later. The only thing on his mind at that moment was seeing your face. Maybe once he touched you he’d wake up and realize the whole thing was just a terrible nightmare. 

His heart jumped as the door slowly creaked open, but fell when he realized it wasn’t you on the other side of it.

Your mom had never liked him. In fact, most moms didn’t like him. But he didn’t understand what exactly he had done to make this particular mom hate him so much. They had exchanged plenty of angry words before, Rafe never being one to just sit and watch when someone he loved was threatened. Everytime your mom raised her voice at you, he’d step in, yelling at her to back off.

“This isn’t about you,” she’d say to him, all three of you knowing it was a lie.

He expected her to say something about how he should leave, that you were grounded and he couldn’t see you. But instead, she smiled politely and said, “hello, Rafe.”

“I - uh - hi,” he stammered back, the speech he had planned on the way over about how you were an adult now and she couldn’t keep you from him dying in his throat. “Is y/n here?”

Your mother just looked at him, but he couldn’t read her expression. Rafe never saw the resemblance between you two, perhaps blinded by his own hatred for her. But in that moment, there was something oddly familiar in the way her eyes softened when she looked at him. 

“No,” she said simply.

“Okay, well do you know when she’ll be back? Because I-”

“She’s not coming back, dear.”

Rafe just blinked, the words so confusing his brain couldn’t process them.

“What- what are you talking about?” 

“Maybe we should talk later,” she said, condescendingly touching his arm for a second before he ripped it away from her. 

“I don’t want to talk later,” he raised his voice. “Talk now, where is she? What did you do?”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at him, all of the fake softness she was trying to show brushed away immediately at his accusation.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said. “She left.”

Rafe shook his head, none of this was making any sense.

“What are you fucking talking about, she left? Where did she go?” He was yelling now and your mother gave him a poisonous look.

Rafe stepped back into the yard, looking up at your bedroom window.

“Y/N!” He yelled. Your mother looked around, checking to see if his volume was drawing the neighbors’ attention.

“She’s not here!” She snapped once she had confirmed no one was watching. “She didn’t want to be here anymore. She left!”

Rafe looked at her with fury in his eyes, his chest rising and falling in angry pants.

“You’re lying,” he accused through gritted teeth.

Your mother approached him silently, and he stepped back, not sure if she was gonna hug him or slap him. She did neither, instead pulling a small object from her pocket and holding it up to him.

“She wanted me to give you this,” she said.

His world slipped out from under him and his face went pale. This really was a nightmare. Why the fuck couldn’t he wake up?

“She wanted me to tell you goodbye for her,” your mother said.

Her arm outstretched, she gave Rafe your promise ring.

Now…

Rafe waited to hear the front door slam before finally turning around and taking in the spot on the couch where you had been just a minute ago. His thoughts were a knotted mess he couldn’t detangle. One thread of guilt, the sounds of you crying like an arrow through his chest. One thread of anger, how dare you try to be sweet to him after all you’ve put him through? One thread of shame, surely if you found out the truth about what he did to get that scar, and the even worse things he had done since then, you would never be sweet to him again. 

You said you still loved him. But you didn’t really know him anymore. If you really knew everything, there’s no way you would’ve said all of that.  

His senses return to him slowly, still in disbelief that he’d just had you naked beneath him, after all this time. He needed to wash this morning off of him, to clear you from his head. He needed you off of this island so he could return to the plan he had been executing- sell the gold, keep the house, take over the company, be the man. It was an equation you just didn’t fit into anymore.

Dragging his lifeless body up the steep spiral staircase, he forced himself into the shower. He held his hand under the scalding hot water, watching it turn red and splotchy. He let the heat burn away the lingering feeling of you as his eyes grazed over the scar on his arm. He had never really treated it, delusionally believing if he ignored it then it would just go away. 

Even as he held his face under the steaming water, he couldn’t wash away the image of you placing a gentle kiss on it. No one had looked at him with genuine concern like that in such a long time. 

Fuck. His bottom lip quivered and he placed his hand on the wall of the shower to steady himself. Something sharp ran through his chest - he ached for you. He couldn’t believe he had you so close to him, telling him you still loved him, and he’d let his pride fuck it up.

He thought about Shoupe’s comment that there was nobody left who cared about him. But clearly, you did. And he was going to push you away - for what? Because he’d fucked up so badly two years ago that you had to leave? After all, it was his fault wasn’t it? Most things were. Now you were back, ready to love him again, and after all he had done, who was he to push away love when it was offered?

He turned the shower off and dried off quickly. He needed to find you. 

You had been on foot, so you couldn’t have gone far. You wanted to avoid your mom so desperately that you had slept in your car last night, so clearly you hadn’t gone home. As he was pulling on his clothes, it dawned on him - he knew exactly where you were.

There were a few families on the beach, though the chilly autumn air had sent most of the tourons packing for the year. He hadn’t been to this part of the beach in over two years, unable to stomach the site of the abandoned Lifeguard tower without you under it. But this time, you were standing on it, hair whipping in the wind as you leaned against the decaying railing. He couldn’t help but smile when he realized you had climbed over the “condemned structure, no trespassing” signs to get up there.

Rafe walked quietly around the tower and appeared in front of it, causing you to jump when you looked down and saw him standing there.

“Jesus, Rafe!” You said, quickly wiping the tears from your face. “You scared me.”

“Whatcha doin’ up there?” He squinted in the sun, reminding you of how he looked when he was younger. Like the boy who you’d given your first kiss to under this very tower was standing in front of you now. 

The sight made you long to go back in time. You looked away from him, another round of tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. Rafe didn’t hesitate to climb up the tower, avoiding the parts of the old wood that had rotted away.

When he got to you, he pulled you into his chest, holding the back of your head to him as his shirt absorbed your tears. You didn’t exactly hug him back, but you didn’t push him away either.

After a minute or so, he pulled you back, hands on either side of your face, wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’m having a really bad week,” you told him.

He chuckled, “I know what that’s like.”

You looked up at him, eyes red and swollen. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I just can’t stand knowing you’re in pain.”

“I know what that’s like,” you repeated his words back to him.

“It was easier when you were gone,” he admitted without thinking.

Your lips parted like you were going to say something, but nothing came out, your heart shattering at his words. You turned away from him, afraid the tears you had finally gotten under control were about to return.

“No, that’s not what I- I just,” Rafe sputtered, mentally kicking himself for making you cry again, the opposite of why he had come to find you. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. If he said another word, he was afraid he’d officially lose you forever. But if he said nothing, you would never know what he was really feeling.

Rafe grabbed your shoulders and turned you around forcefully, immediately pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t kiss him back right away, so he ran his tongue over your lips gently, trying to show you that he wasn’t giving up. After what felt like forever, you finally sighed and began kissing him back, no denial left in you.

The two of you kissed for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, holding on for dear life. The old wood of the tower creaked under your feet every time either of you shifted your weight. You thought the floor might fall out from under you any second, and you didn’t care. You’d go down with him.

Suddenly, you heard the low hum of an engine in the distance, and you opened your eyes, keeping your lips on Rafe’s. When you realized what you were looking at, you tapped Rafe's shoulder, trying to signal to him to pull back.

“Mmm Rafe!” 

“I know, baby, me too,” he mumbled before continuing to kiss you.

“No,” you pulled away from him, “look!”

Rafe followed your pointed finger to see the Kildare Beach Patrol ATV driving down the beach towards you.

“Shit,” he said. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here.”

You eyed the many “No Trespassing” signs and laughed sarcastically. “What makes you say that?”

“C’mon,” Rafe grabbed your hand and your heart sank in disappointment, thinking he was going to lead you off the tower, that the moment was ruined.

But instead he turned to the door of the Lifeguard tower’s small office, wrapped in yellow “do not enter” tape. He shook the handle but it didn’t budge.

Rafe looked down at the beach, the patrol vehicle getting dangerously close.

“Fuck it,” he said, ramming his shoulder into the door as hard as he could. It flew open with a CRACK and you gasped, a thrill running through you at his reckless show of strength. 

Rafe pulled your hand and you giggled as you flew through the door behind him. The door closed and you were quickly pressed against it, his warm body invading your space. 

“I can’t believe you did-” 

Rafe’s hand flew over your mouth, silencing you. He leaned his ear against the door over your head, listening for any sign that the patrol officers had seen his breaking and entering stunt.

He was so close to you, your face nearly pressed into his chest, that you could feel the warmth of his skin radiating through his shirt. You couldn’t help yourself, feeling like a woman possessed as you leaned in and took a deep breath through your nose, breathing him in.

He looked down at you with an amused face, his hand still covering your mouth. Your eyes widened, feeling foolish.

“Did you just smell me?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

He moved his hand from your mouth so you could answer, and you immediately missed the roughness of his skin against your soft lips.

You couldn’t think of words to explain how badly you had been craving the sight and smell of him, the feeling of him, for so long. Ever since you could remember, being in his vicinity had always consumed your senses. You had only been shut in this room with him for a minute and you already felt drunk off of his presence, the cloudy fog that was once your greatest addiction slowly filling your head. You decided that was the problem - you’d been clean for far too long, you needed him in your system again. You thought for a long time, afraid to attempt the words again after the aggressive way he had declined them earlier. But you desperately needed to get them off of your chest, even if he didn’t want to hear them.

“I missed you.” 

Rafe looked down at you, the hand that was just over your mouth finding its way to your hip. The image of you somewhere far from here, missing him and thinking you would never see him again flashed across his mind. The thought was so painful that he had to close his eyes, a lump of anger clotting in his throat. He gently set his forehead against yours, breathing deeply.

You didn’t understand why your words had upset him, and you immediately wished you could take them back. Something about what you said had clearly caused him pain, and you couldn’t bear it. You reached up, grabbing at his shirt, his arms, the back of his neck. You were pawing at him like you could somehow pull him into you, absorb him and take away any pain he’d ever felt. 

“Hey, hey,” you whispered to him, your hands finally landing on either side of his face, pulling back so you could look him in the eyes. He blinked them open into yours and you brushed your nose against his lovingly. “Talk to me.”

Rafe swallowed hard, looking at you with an intensity that made you feel like you were floating.

“Tired of talking.” He slammed his lips into yours before the words had even fully left them. Both his hands were on your hips now, pushing you back against the door. Your chests were pressed together, the power of his body crushing you so sweetly. You inhaled deeply into the kiss, realizing you had been holding your breath. As you released your breath, you let out a little moan that set his blood on fire.

One of his hands fell to your ass while the other cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face into his, making it impossible for you to pull back. You wouldn’t have broken the kiss if this building was on fire, but the idea that you couldn’t, that he had you, was exhilarating. In your excitement, you bit his bottom lip.

“Shit, sorry,” you said, watching as his bottom lip began to swell.

“Do that again,” he demanded. 

Your eyes widened at the darkness in his voice and he worried that he’d scared you. But his worries faded when you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach his mouth, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth again. 

You bit gently at first, but increased the pressure when he left out a broken groan that was so hot you found yourself clenching around nothing, already impossibly wet.

After a moment, you released his lip with a ‘pop’. You watched proudly as it turned purple, and he didn’t miss the mischievous flicker in your eye. His eyelids were heavy as he looked at you, a heat between you that was more electric than anything you’d ever felt. You thought back to a few nights ago when you first saw him. You still hated the way he talked to that waiter, hated how viciously arrogant he sounded when he hit on that woman at the club just to piss off her date. But right now, all of that passion and ferocity was aimed directly at you like a laser beam, and you wanted it to cut straight through you. But you had to know something first.

“Did you miss me, baby? You whispered, still watching his lips, afraid if you looked him in the eyes and didn’t get the answer you wanted, you’d break beyond repair. 

Rafe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did he miss you? He’d been walking around a shell of a man since the night you left him sitting on that curb. Did he miss you? He hasn’t slept in two years. Did he miss you? He has to stay high every minute of the day, afraid if he’s sober long enough to remember everything you’d been through together, he might not survive it.

Your ability to read his mind still hadn’t fully returned, and you couldn’t quite understand the look on his face. His brow was furrowed, but you didn’t know what emotion was behind it. You were suddenly afraid that asking the question was a mistake, but you couldn’t let this moment with him slip through your fingers. 

When he opened his mouth slightly to respond, you abruptly reached up and placed your fingers over his mouth, silencing him. You shook your head ever so slightly and Rafe wasn’t entirely sure what you were saying no to, him now being the one afraid of the moment ending. But then you slid your hand down, over his neck, his chest, down his abdomen, until you reached the outline of his erection. You palmed him through his jeans, pressing firmly as you rubbed back and forth. His eyes rolled in pleasure and a breathy moan left his lips.

Thinking you had gained all the power, you went to slide your hand under the waistband of his pants, but he grabbed your wrist hard, stopping you. You gasped as he grabbed your other wrist too, holding them firmly to the door behind you, bending down to get his lips next to your ear.

“You didn’t let me answer,” he snarled.

It all happened so dizzyingly fast. Rafe suddenly pulled you off the door and backed you towards an old desk that sat on the other side of the small office. He held you there with one hand while he used his other arm to push all of the old papers and office supplies off of the desk. Once the surface was cleared, he lifted you up from under your arms and set you down on it. He kissed you hard as his hands worked on the buttons of your shorts, ripping them down your legs along with your panties. There was no time to undress either of you slowly, he needed to be inside you, and you were thinking the exact same thing.

He unzipped his jeans and took himself out of them, not even bothering to pull them off all the way. Rafe pumped himself as he neared you, rubbing his tip through your soaking folds before sinking himself into you.

Your mouth fell open at the feeling of him entering you. The stretch hurt a bit after two years without him, but you welcomed it, clawing at his flexing arms as he started moving in and out of you. You looked down, watching where he entered you with your eyebrows knit together, too engrossed in the sight to make a sound. Rafe grabbed your chin and pulled your gaze up to meet his. 

“Did I miss you?” He repeated your words incredulously as he slammed into you hard, finally pulling a strained moan from your throat. 

Rafe started fucking you like he never had before. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving marks as you whined and mewled. Your whole body shaking from the impact every time he bottomed out. You wanted him to give you all of his passion and fury, and now he was. 

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes. When the first one fell, Rafe placed a kiss on it, wiping it away with his lips. Still holding onto your chin, he moved his lips over and kissed the other side of your face, the gentle action in such stark contrast to the way he was pounding into you. 

He pulled back and looked into your eyes again, and said in a startlingly clear voice, “you are the love of my fucking life.”

You broke into a sob.

“Rafe!” You cried as he somehow sped up his thrusts even faster. 

“It destroyed me when you left,” he kept going. “Never gonna let you leave me again. Never losing you, baby.”

The passion in his words and the intensity in his movements were almost too much. It was all so perfect, so exactly what you’d wanted for so long, that you almost couldn’t bear it. Your orgasm crashed into you out of nowhere, and you came with a loud cry of his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed you through it. “Give it to me, give me everything.”

The feeling of you clenching around him mixed with the sound of you screaming his name pushed him over the edge and emptied himself into you. He flinched when he realized he was completely uncovered, but as he made to pull out, you wrapped your legs around him, holding him in. 

Rafe stayed inside of you for a moment, holding you with your head resting against his chest and his hands in your hair. When he finally slid out, he put his hands on either side of your face and kissed you one more time, both of you groaning at the separation.

Once he had tucked himself back into his briefs, he kneeled down to get your shorts off of the ground. He pulled them over your feet and up your legs, helping you down so you were standing as you buttoned them. This time, it was you with your hands on either side of his face, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs as he knelt before you. 

Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled something out you couldn’t quite see. You eyed him curiously and he slowly opened his palm to reveal something small and gold. Your promise ring.

(chapter 6)

a/n: I told you the smut was on it's wayyyy! but those of you who are here for angst, never fear.... 👀

as always if I left you off the taglist i'm sorry and please lmk!! Idk why but tags aren’t working in the post so I will put them in replies! I may be switching to a notification account soon because these tags give me such a hard time everytime I post 😭

[duskier]

Cyber stalker Laswell who meets you as a server in a fancy restaurant. The bill she pays without a blink of her eye is about a week's worth of your pay.

You're obviously attracted to her from the second she's seated, how your eyes follow the silver necklace she's wearing down between the open buttons of her silk collared shirt. How then your eyes flick to her hands, pupils dilating when you find her ring finger bare. It's like the general sitting across from Laswell doesn't even exist. She immediately likes that about you, how quickly and easily she's able to capture your full attention.

She watches your tongue behind your teeth move as you take her order, determined not to fuck it up. You were still new to this job, but the authoritative aura Laswell gave off had you at attention. Even her little smiles and nods when you confirmed her order felt like rewards. Like a dog being clicker trained.

Laswell tests you- she doesn't like pets who are obedient just because they can't think for themselves. She asks you to pick out a wine for her. You offer to have the sommelier come by, but she just shakes her head. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.

When you bring her the wine, a glass of '91 Penfold Grange, you can't help but watch her take a sip. Raptured at the sight of her rolling the taste in her mouth, lost in the idea of licking it off of her tongue. Laswell looks you right in your eyes when she thanks you, tells you that it was an excellent choice. She might as well have bent you over the table and fucked you right there, it made you melt. How could she make you feel so much with so little said?

(When you went to the back, her empty glass in hand, no one noticed when you licked at the stains on the rim where her mouth was. The wine tasted fucking fantastic.)

She left you a tip well over what was necessary. More than what the bill actually was, a number with one too many zeroes that made you gasp. She wrote out that it was a thank you for your service, and you shove the note in your pocket.

...Your heart sunk at the fact that she hadn't left her number though. Of course she wouldn't, a classy older woman such as herself? She probably only entertained you out of pity, because you were working and she was a professional.

You went home in a needy daze, her note burning in your pocket. You could still smell her perfume, the scent inoffensive but strong. If you fingered yourself with the note held in your other hand, Laswell's looping blue-ink cursive making you clench on your fingers every time you glanced at it, you didn't feel shame for it. Too busy lost in her pretty eyes, the thought of sitting naked in her lap, the idea of her voice praising and guiding you to orgasm.

...

What a pretty show, Laswell thought. Before she'd even gotten home, she'd had connections find everything about you. For such a smart person, you put much too much about yourself online. Not to mention, an open laptop on your desk, right across from your bed? You're lucky Laswell is looking out for you, remotely setting up security so no one else could see through that camera. Only she should see how your pretty thighs clench and jerk as you cum, only she should hear her name on your lips like that.

You were perfect for Laswell, exactly her type. Smart, pretty thing just waiting for someone to scoop them up, take care of them properly and teach them how to be a good pet.

[on-leatheredwings]

any hc for male reader x yandere batfam?? any of them will work. also the batboy didn't know he was bi at first (unless you're doing Tim). and the reader is dealing with internalized homophobia?

somethin short n sweet :]

Soft! Older! Yandere! Damian Wayne / Male Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: internalized homophobia, references to violent homophobia > word count: 723 > a/n: just something short and sweet... > male reader can be cis or trans

"Study with me," is what Damian Wayne says, before placing a pile of books on your already-crowded table.

His clean cut appearance contrasts with the hipster, rustic interior of your favorite cafe. It’s not really his scene, as far as you’re aware. Both the decor and the abundant crowd. 

You lean back in your chair, narrowing your eyes. "Wayne.” You have to try not to sneer.

You are acquainted with him, after all. His marks are always top of the class, and yours are always seconding. You’re at Gotham U entirely on scholarship, just having transferred from community college. You’re first in your family to go to college, period, and they were risking everything for you to be here. You had to be top of your class if you wanted to pursue your post-grad plans. 

Always being second to this nepo-baby billionaire is a bitter knock to your self-esteem. You wince, feeling sharp pain on your ribcage. One you don’t need with all the other bitter knocks your classmates already give you.

You stare up at the man, wishing he hadn’t caught you in your seat. You blink, realizing that he isn't moving. "Wait, what did you say?" you ask.

“... I said, 'study with me.'" He elegantly lands in the seat across from you at the all-too-small table. "I’ll be sitting here.”

You gape at him.

“But– y-you don’t even like me…?” Damian had never spared you the time of day until … this day. You assumed you were a gnat to him at best. Just some brokie who managed to sneak his way into his school.

How utterly wrong you were.

Damian Wayne hadn’t expected to end up with anyone other than a woman, he supposed. It had been assumed of him during his childhood and he hadn’t questioned it. From a young age he had been aware of homosexuality, and that men could be attractive, but he hadn’t considered it for himself in any serious capacity. 

Even Timothy coming out didn’t spur any curiosity from him. Despite his siblings teasing, his closeness to Jon was entirely platonic. So Damian just assumed, like the majority of the world, he was heterosexual. Until you had transferred into one of his classes and stole his breath away.

Damian’s eyes narrow and, if you can believe it, glimmer with interest. “I don’t recall ever saying that. For all you know, I could be quite fond of you.” His eyes lower to where your lips lie. “... Or at the very least, interested.”

You cheeks heat rise to your cheeks, before you flinch. There's no way. He didn’t mean it like that. Yet despite discerning his expression… Oh fuck, maybe he meant it like that? You panic, head snapping away from his. No– no. You are not going to be weird about this. You could have a friend here. 

The last time you misinterpreted friendliness from your peers as romantic advances... Those bruises are still healing, still aching when you stretch and bend. Your stomach roils with hurt, fear, and betrayal – no. You weren’t going to repeat the same mistake this time. You’ve been ostracized from most of your peers by now. ‘Pervert’ and ‘predator’ they named you. But maybe… you could have a friend here.

In your silence, Damian finds tendrils of curiosity churning in his stomach. He wants desperately to talk to you. To hear you speak. To listen to you talk at length about the lectures he finds so droll, but you find rapturing. Test scores meant nothing. He may be better at memorizing the text, but he’s read your essays. He clears his throat, lifting his chin on instinct to feign confidence.

You look up at him shyly, before realizing you’ve been mulling in silence like a freak for the past few minutes. Damian doesn’t mind, having been able to openly admire you.

You cough, trying to ease the confusion thrumming in your veins. “... Well, fine. I could use a sounding board.”

“Shall we start with the next test review?” Damian offers, flipping open a book.

You perk up, having been about to suggest lighter reading rather than the dense, metaphysical chapters your professor recommended. You nod fervently, lips curling to Damian’s delight.

“Yes, please,” you say, metaphorical tag wagging.

New friend, new friend, you inwardly cheer. 

Damian’s thoughts run considerably more romantic.