#chase stokes locks

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!readers on hot ones

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based partially off of the new hot ones interview with the obx cast. just imagine drew and actress!reader are on opposite teams rather than drew being the question person lol. yall really seemed to like the last interview-fic i did so voila <3

“I’m already sweating.” Madison said, fanning herself as they filed into the studio. Lights and a white backdrop surrounded a table covered with wings, four chairs on each side. They’d already been briefed on how things were going to go, the eight of them divided into two teams and answering questions, their answers deciding whether or not they’d be subjected to one of the very hot wings laid out in front of them.

Drew came up behind y/n, pulling out her chair for her before heading to his own seat opposite her. She smiled at him, soothing her dress down as the rest of the cast sat down. Madelyn, Rudy, and Carlacia took seats on her team whereas Drew sat with Chase, Madison, and JD opposite them.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, resting her chin in her hands as she looked at the man across from her, his eyes crinkling as a smile crept across his face.

“You better not be expecting me to go easy on you, my love.” Drew raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Ok, are we ready?” One of the producers asked, to which the cast responded with excited (or perhaps anxious) cheers. The camera focused in on Chase, who reached and spun the bottle of hot sauce sitting in front of them, the ultimate decider of which team would go first. It spun for a moment before landing on Madelyn, her teammates erupting with hollers as Chases picked up one of the cards.

“Alright, Mr. Rudy,” Chase smiled cheekily. “Outer Banks has hooked viewers with its countless twists and turns, however, name one storyline you think should’ve never made it out of the writers room.”

Everyone let out some groans and giggles as Rudy began to lose himself in thought… and continued and continued to think.

“Is there a time limit on these?” JD quipped, causing Rudy to roll his eyes, stroking his chin in playful contemplation.

“This is off to a great start.” Y/n said, elbowing Rudy lightly.

“Ok, ok!” Rudy said. “I’d say… I wish they didn’t switch to the second treasure so fast. They should’ve stuck at the first treasure longer.”

“That sounds like an answer to me!” Carlacia clapped as the team opposite them picked up their wings with a groan. They each took a bite, chewing for a second before they all reached for the drinks in front of them.

“Shit.” Drew swore as he took a long sip of milk, his cheeks already beginning to flush a bright red.

“Don’t worry there’s more where that came from.” Y/n grinned as Drew shook his head. Y/n reached in front of her, grabbing another one of the question cards.

“Oh, JD,” Y/n read in a sing-song voice, “Outer Banks centers around a group of teenagers, but our cast ranges from 24 to 33 years old. Which of your costars is the least convincing teenager?”

The table erupted into “oohs” as JD surveyed his co-stars, a nervous grin on his face before his gaze landed on Chase.

“I think I have to say Mr Chase Stokes.” JD chuckled.

“Is it because of the beard?” Chase teased as y/n and her team picked up the wings in front of them. With a deep breath, y/n took a bite, her mouth immediately bursting with heat. With a groan, she reached for the ice water in front of her, hoping to soothe the fire in her throat as her eyes began to water.

“No more jokes, baby?” Drew asked as y/n fanned herself off with her hand. Y/n rolled her eyes, tossing the old question card at him. Drew picked the next card, his gaze locking onto the girl in front of him.

“Oh, perfect. Y/n,” Drew began, “part of Outer Banks’ charm is the chemistry between the cast. That being said, who here is the worst scene partner?”

“Oh no!” Y/n groaned, putting her face in her hands as the table broke out in gasps and laughter. She stole a glance at the second wing in front of her, royally coated in fiery hot sauce before thinking of an answer.

“Ok, ok! I’m going to answer, but,” y/n said with an anxious giggle, “you have to let me explain!”

Her co-stars leaned in, each of them with looks of anticipation covering their faces as y/n sat up straighter in her seat.

“My answer is…” y/n paused for dramatic affect, chewing at her bottom lip nervously, “Drew, but—”

Everyone erupted into shrieks and laughter, Drew’s jaw dropping at his girlfriend’s answer. Madelyn covered her mouth, locking eyes with Carlacia before they both turned to y/n.

“No, no, no! You have to let me explain!” Y/n reached across the table, grabbing Drew’s hand, his mouth still agape.

“This is going to be good.” Rudy chuckled.

“He’s not a bad scene partner, he is just so different from Rafe and always makes me laugh, so it takes us a million takes to get a scene done!” Y/n clarified, Drew’s shocked expression melting into a small smile.

“See, you’re just such a funny guy and I love you so much that it makes it hard to do scenes with you. It’s a compliment, really, baby.” Y/n finished with a quirk of her eyebrows, her costars swooning as the couple gazed at each other softly.

“Good save, good save.” JD teased as he and his team reached for another hot wing. The game continued for several more rounds, various questions, and, of course, lots of spicy wings, until they finally made it to the finale.

The table was moved out, their seats being arranged in a circle for a cutthroat game of musical chairs that would ultimately determine the winner of the game. Round after round, the numbers dwindled until one chair and two players remained: y/n and Drew.

“No mercy, y/n!” Madelyn shouted from the side as y/n and Drew rounded the chair slowly.

“C’mon Starkey boy!” Chase cheered. Y/n looked up for a moment, her eyes meeting with Drew’s as the music suddenly stopped. Before she knew it, Drew’s arms wrapped around her torso, lifting her off her feet with a shriek. He quickly sat down in the chair, pulling her down with him, and winning the game.

“Sorry baby,” Drew smirked, pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek. Y/n groaned playfully, tossing her head back to rest on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them laughed in the chair.

“You’re lucky I love you, Starkey.” Y/n grinned, kissing Drew’s jaw.

“Do you? Do you really?” Drew teased, nuzzling his nose into the crook of y/n’s neck, causing her to squeal with laughter. In all her life, y/n would’ve never expected that she in all her competitive nature would be ok with losing a competition, but here she was, happy as ever.

[thef1diary]

Behave | P. Gasly

Kinktober 9/11 - Spanking

Summary: Pierre finds a new way to punish you for misbehaving

warnings: 18+ smut, spanking, pussy spanking, spreader bar, unprotected sex

wc: 4k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

“Someone needs to learn how to behave,” Pierre murmured, his voice low and rough. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat radiating from him, every breath fanning the embers of something wild inside you.

“Pierre,” you breathed, his name escaping your lips in a soft, desperate whisper. There’s a tremor in your voice, a quiet plea that you can’t quite articulate, as though you’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—whether it’s mercy or more of his touch. Your gaze locks onto his, wide and pleading, searching for something in the storm of his eyes.

The atmosphere is charged, electricity crackling in the air as you hold Pierre’s gaze. His expression is full of heat and mischief, the corner of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. You can sense the shift in his demeanor—playfulness giving way to something darker, more intense.

“You know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?” He said as he stepped closer, his fingertips grazing your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, tilting your face up toward his. “I think it’s time I teach you a lesson, ma belle.”

Pierre’s words hang in the air as he leans in to brush a kiss against the edge of your lips—just a whisper of contact that only stokes the growing heat within you, far from enough to satisfy the desire simmering between you.

Before you can chase the sensation, Pierre slips back, his departure was swift as the fleeting kiss. He settles onto the couch, reclining with a confidence that sends a thrill through your veins. His gaze never strays from you, the weight of it heavy with intent as he parts his legs, creating a space meant just for you. He holds his hand out, fingers curling in a silent command for you to come closer.

“Viens ici,” (come here) he instructed, the French rolling off his tongue, low and smooth. There’s a dark intensity in his voice, a firm edge that leaves no room for doubt—you will obey.

You take a step forward, then another, until you’re standing between his knees, your breath shallow as the anticipation coils tighter inside you. Pierre’s touch is gentle yet possessive as he grips your hips, guiding you even closer. His fingers work at the waistband of your pants, and without breaking eye contact, he eases them down, inch by inch, letting the fabric slide to the floor. The cool air brushes against your newly exposed skin, heightening the sensitivity of every inch he reveals.

“Good,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as he slips his hand around to cup the back of your thigh, his thumb grazing the curve just below your hip. His other hand traces a path over your lower back, the warmth of his palm searing through you as he guides you down, draping you over his lap with deliberate care.

The position feels simultaneously vulnerable and thrilling—his arm settles over your lower back, keeping you pinned there, while the cool leather beneath you contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from his body. His hand rests on the curve of your ass, fingers spreading slightly to caress your skin. It’s a light touch, almost teasing, that sends a shiver through you before his palm lifts.

“Count them,” he instructs, his voice deep and commanding, the tone sending a shiver through you.

Before you can even prepare yourself, his palm comes down hard against your skin, the first smack landing with a sharp crack that reverberates through the room. The sting radiates outward, spreading into a heat that blooms across your flesh as you gasp in surprise. His hand doesn’t pull away; instead, it stays there, pressing into the warm spot he’s just marked, his fingers kneading the sore skin with a touch that’s both comforting and tantalizing, making the ache linger in the most delicious way.

“One,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky as you draw in a breath.

Pierre hums in approval, the sound low and satisfied, as his hand lifts once more. This time, the blow is firmer, more deliberate, and the sting is sharper, making you let out a trembling exhale. “Two…” you whisper, feeling a wave of heat wash over you—not just from the spanks, but from the building tension winding tighter inside you.

His strikes follow a rhythm, precise and unhurried, each one calculated to draw a different response from you. As his hand lands again and again, your reactions vary—a soft gasp, a low whimper, the way your fingers clutch at the couch’s edge for something to hold on to. With each slap, you feel the warmth spreading further, the skin tingling under his touch, the heat pooling low in your belly.

Pierre’s hand drifts over the heated skin, rubbing the tender spots where the sting lingers. His fingers slip lower, tracing the curve of your thigh, barely grazing the edge of your underwear.

As his hand brushes over the fabric of your underwear, his fingertips pause for the briefest of moments. His touch shifts slightly, exploring, and he notices the dampness that’s begun to seep through the material, a subtle but undeniable sign of how his discipline is affecting you. A wicked smile curves across his lips as he presses his fingers against the growing wetness, a teasing pressure that makes your breath hitch.

“What’s this?,” he murmurs, his tone dark with satisfaction. “You’re already soaking for me.” His hand slips away just as you start to lean into his touch, and he brings it down again with a sharp swat, landing directly over the damp spot, the force sending a jolt of pleasure through you that mixes with the sting.

“Count,” he demands, his voice thick with control, his eyes watching intently as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Five,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you feel the heat building, not just on your skin, but deep inside you, the ache spreading and intertwining with the damp fabric pressed between your thighs.

Pierre’s grip tightens around the waistband of your underwear, and with a sudden, forceful tug, he pulls the fabric upward. The flimsy material digs into your skin as he shoves it between the cheeks of your ass, exposing you fully. The sensation of the fabric sliding against your most sensitive areas is a sharp contrast to the cool air brushing over the newly exposed skin, making you shiver as you feel both vulnerable and on display.

“There we go,” he says, his tone low and possessive, as his fingers trail over the freshly revealed skin. He lingers at the edges of the taut fabric, pressing it in just a bit deeper, the pressure sending tiny shocks of sensation through you. His other hand rests on the small of your back, steadying you as you shift involuntarily at the intensity of his touch.

The exposure makes each moment feel heightened, every breath you take sharper, as Pierre’s gaze and hands travel over your heated flesh. The vulnerability amplifies the ache inside you, making it difficult to hold back the tiny, involuntary sounds that escape your lips as his fingers trace the outline of your exposed curves.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice a rich rumble that sends a shiver down your spine, “five more.” His hand smooths over the exposed flesh, as if savoring the sight and the warmth radiating from your skin. “Don’t lose count or we’ll start from one,” he added, his tone laced with that same commanding edge that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can fully prepare yourself, his palm comes down again, harder this time. The smack lands with a resounding crack, the sting spreading sharply across your skin. You wince at the intensity, but the rush that follows is undeniably intoxicating, the heat blooming in waves that seem to sink deeper.

“Six,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, the numbers becoming harder to say as your body reacts to every smack, every caress that follows.

He doesn’t give you a moment to recover. His hand strikes again, the sound echoing in the room as the heat on your skin intensifies. You draw in a ragged breath, the sting blending with a swelling ache that pulses through you.

“Seven,” you manage to whisper, your fingers curling tighter around the couch, as if searching for something to ground you amidst the spiraling sensations.

Pierre’s fingers massage the tender spots, sending a shudder through you, and you almost lose yourself in that comforting sensation—until he pulls back and lands another firm smack.

“Eight…” you whispered, the sound breaking at the end, your whole body taut as the tension inside you winds tighter and tighter.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as his hand hovers over your skin, a teasing pause that makes your anticipation spike. “Two more, ma belle,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with authority and a hint of satisfaction. Then, without another word, his palm comes down again, and this time the sting is more pronounced, the sensation vibrating through your entire body.

“Nine,” you gasped, the number leaving your lips in a rush as you feel his hand rub over the heated skin once more, his touch gentle but deliberate, as though savoring your reactions.

The final strike comes swiftly, without warning, and it lands with a force that sends a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you, making your breath hitch sharply in your throat.

“Ten,” you choked out, your voice trembling as the lingering heat settles into your flesh, and the ache inside you deepens into a craving you can’t quite quell.

After the last slap lands, your body trembling with a mixture of relief and lingering ache, Pierre’s hands slide over your skin, gently massaging the sore, reddened spots as if to soothe the stinging warmth he created. His touch shifts from punishing to possessive, his fingers tracing along your curves in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Good, you’re behaving,” he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction. “You took that so well.” His touch remains firm yet comforting, and as his fingers slip lower, teasing the edge of your underwear again, you feel his approval seep through his caresses, each one promising more yet leaving you on the edge, craving what might come next.

“But we are not done yet, mon ange,” he stated, his voice rough with desire. Before you could react, he scooped you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you into his arms. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist, and the heat of his body pressed flush against yours made it impossible to ignore the pulse of need that had been building inside you.

As he carried you toward the bedroom, you couldn’t help but grind against him, seeking any bit of friction to ease the ache deep within. His cock pressed against you through the fabric, and the way you moved against him made a low groan escape his throat. His grip on you tightened, one hand sliding down to cup your ass, where marks were surely forming, encouraging the movement as your hips rolled against him.

“You’re that desperate, hm?” he murmured against your ear, his voice darkly amused, yet there was a hunger in it that matched your own.

When he reached the bedroom, he pinned you against the wall beside the door, his hands gripping your thighs as he pressed his body even closer to yours. His mouth found your neck, kissing and biting with just enough pressure to make you gasp. “Look at you,” he rasped, his tone a mix of approval and possession. “Grinding on me like you can’t wait a moment longer, behaving like a bad girl again.”

His lips captured yours before you could deny his claim, before you could tell him that you’d behave for him. The kiss was rough and demanding, as if he was trying to consume every bit of your desire. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way his muscles flexed under your touch as you clung to him, and the undeniable erection pressing between your legs as you ground against him one last time before he pulled you away from the wall.

With a sudden movement, he turned and carried you the rest of the way to the bed, tossing you down onto the mattress with a mixture of gentleness and roughness that left you breathless. The cool sheets felt like a shock against your flushed skin, but before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you, his body pinning you down as he kissed you deeply, his hands already roaming possessively over your exposed skin.

As he moved above you, his chain swung between your bodies, the cool metal brushing against your heated skin with each of his movements. The feeling of the chain dangling against your chest, combined with the weight of his body and the way his mouth devoured yours, made your head spin with need.

Pierre shuffled down your body, placing a lingering kiss as he went, until he reached the hem of your panties, the dampening patch growing with each passing second. He slipped his fingers into the waistband, pulling it away in one fluid motion, tossing the sheer fabric aside like it was nothing more than a fleeting thought. He placed his hands on your thighs, spreading his fingers wide to savor the softness of your skin. His grip tightened, fingers digging into your thighs, eliciting a delicious ache that coursed through your body. With effortless ease, he parted your legs, leaving you beautifully exposed on the bed, entirely at his mercy.

His gaze instantly dropped to your pussy, the soft sheen of your desire compelling him to lick his lips, a sly smirk creeping across his face. He leaned closer, his lips inches away from your cunt. Pierre’s eyes flicked back to yours, searching for your reaction, and he found you watching him with anticipation, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

With a teasing flick of his tongue, he parted your folds, savoring the sweet taste of your arousal. He dragged his tongue through your slickness, sending a wave of pleasure cascading through you. You arched your back instinctively, the sheets beneath your clenched fist crumpling as you felt a rush of warmth radiate from deep within.

Your other hand tangled in his hair, fingers curling tightly as you urged him closer, a soft whimper escaping your lips. He groaned at the sensation, pulling back just enough to place a soft kiss on your sensitive clit, igniting a spark that made you shudder.

Just as you surrendered to the sensation, he surprised you by bringing his palm down between your thighs, slapping your cunt. The suddenness of his touch jolted you, instinctively causing you to close your legs, a reflex born from both shock and desire.

He noticed immediately, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “You can’t even keep your thighs open for me, can you?” he teased, a playful challenge lacing his voice. “If you can’t manage that, how do you expect me to believe you can be good, ma chérie?”

“Pierre—”

With a slow shake of his head, he stepped away from the bed, leaving you trembling with anticipation as he sauntered over to the closet. The cool air caressed your exposed skin, heightening your awareness of every sensation.

After a moment, he returned, and your breath caught sharply in your throat. In his hands was a spreader bar, its sleek surface gleaming under the soft light. It was crafted from polished metal, sturdy yet alluring, with two leather bands attached at either end—perfectly designed to secure your ankles in place. The sight of it sent a rush of heat flooding through you, a mixture of excitement and trepidation filling your veins.

“Maybe you’ll behave with this,” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. He approached with a predatory grace, the spreader bar held confidently in his grip. You could feel your heart racing as he knelt at the edge of the bed, his expression both commanding and enticing.

He gently tugged your legs apart, adjusting your position to accommodate the spreader bar. The cool metal felt foreign against your skin, and a thrill coursed through you as he positioned it perfectly between your ankles. You gasped softly at the sensation, the way it forced you open and vulnerable to him.

With deft movements, he wrapped the soft leather bands around your ankles, fastening them snugly to the ends of the bar. Each strap tightened around your skin, anchoring you in place and amplifying the thrill of submission.

“This will keep you spread and open for me,” he purred, his gaze roaming over your body with a mixture of hunger and admiration. The realization of your vulnerability sent a rush of heat flooding through you, a mix of anticipation and desire igniting in your core.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin as he surveyed the scene before him. “Just relax and let go,” he instructed, his voice a velvety whisper that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “You’re safe here with me.”

With you secured and vulnerable, Pierre’s gaze darkened with a mix of desire and intent. He brought his palm down against your soft skin, the impact sending ripples of sensation through your body. The weight of his hand felt commanding, anchoring you in place as he explored.

“This time,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips, “you won’t be able to close your thighs.” His fingers began to trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, the teasing caress leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The spreader bar held you open, and you could only gasp as he relished in your exposure.

As his hand came down against your pussy, the jolt of sensation shot through you like electricity. Your back arched instinctively, a desperate attempt to ease the overwhelming feeling that coursed through you. The urge to close your legs—to shield yourself from the intensity of his touch—surged within you, but the spreader bar kept you splayed wide open, a reminder of your helplessness.

“Please, please, please, Pierre,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips like a breathless mantra. Each plea was laced with need, your voice trembling as you struggled to cling to some sense of control.

“Ah, there they are,” he breathed, voice dripping with mock satisfaction as though he’d stumbled upon a lost treasure. “There are your manners.” His thumb traced your folds, dipping ever so slightly in your cunt before sliding out and nudging your swollen clit.

The way he looked at you—half-chiding, half-amused—made your pulse quicken. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he continued, “beg for me.”

His fingers worked against your pussy, spreading your folds while bringing his other hand down to slap your exposed clit. You cried out loud, his name falling from your lips over and over again, the sound a desperate plea for more.

You squirmed on the bed, the soft sheets beneath you contrasting sharply with the heated intensity of his hands. Each deliberate stroke of his thumb circling your clit sent spirals of ecstasy racing through you, drawing out breathy whimpers that filled the air. His lips curved into a smug smirk, clearly reveling in your response as he maintained his hold on the spreader bar with his other hand, effectively pinning you in place.

“Need your fingers,” you managed to mumble between your moans. “Please, Pierre.”

He chuckled softly at your pleading words, a wicked glint in his eyes that made your heart race. “Are you sure you want my fingers? Or do you want my cock?” he taunted, his fingers slowing for a moment, building the tension between you. You writhed against the bed, the desire pooling low in your belly, urging him to continue.

Your eyes widened, and a desperate string of pleas left your lips, asking for his cock.

With a knowing smirk, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for the sensation you had just experienced. He unbuttoned his pants with deliberate slowness, his gaze locked onto yours, savoring the anticipation that hung in the air between you. Each movement seemed to amplify your need, the tension coiling tighter in your belly as you watched him.

As he pushed his pants down, revealing the hard evidence of his desire, he maintained his hold on the spreader bar. The metal gleamed in the dim light, keeping your legs wide open, utterly exposed to him. This position only heightened your vulnerability and eagerness, a thrill coursing through you as you felt the cool air against your heated skin.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl filled with hunger. “So eager, so ready for me.” You could barely contain the shiver that ran down your spine at his words, your body aching for him.

With one hand gripping the bar, he leaned on the bed, his desire evident in his eyes. As he positioned himself at your entrance, the world around you faded, and all you could focus on was the anticipation of what was to come.

He thrusts into you, allowing you to take him inch by inch, each moment stretched to savor the fullness. You could feel every ridge and contour as he filled you completely, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body.

Holding the spreader bar high, he kept your legs spread wide, your ankles resting against his shoulders. This position intensified your vulnerability, leaving you utterly exposed to him, and every thrust felt deeper, more intimate. The way he held you like this made your heart race, your body arching instinctively to meet his every movement.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you, and you couldn’t help but let out breathy moans that filled the air around you.

“More,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Please, don’t stop.”

With a knowing grin, he brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles that ignited an entirely new level of pleasure. The dual sensations of his thrusts and the friction on your sensitive bud sent shockwaves through you, leaving you gasping. Your body responded instinctively, arching towards him, craving more as he skillfully kept the rhythm.

As your legs rested against his body, he delivered sharp slaps to your inner thighs, each one sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. The mix of pleasure and pain kept you teetering on the brink, every hit leaving you more breathless, more desperate for him.

When his hand finally returned to your clit, rubbing faster and harder, the pleasure surged within you like a tidal wave, building in intensity with each stroke. Your breath hitched as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you, the bed, and the intoxicating sensations he was creating.

As he continued to push you toward ecstasy, he delivered a firm slap to your clit, the sudden burst of sensation causing you to gasp sharply. That one deliberate action sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending as you felt the heat pooling low in your belly. It was a thrilling combination of pleasure and pain, driving you ever closer to the edge.

“Please…,” you managed to whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, pleading for release as your body instinctively responded to his every move.

With a final thrust and a precise flick of his thumb against your sensitive clit, you felt the world around you shatter. The climax crashed over you with an intensity that left you gasping his name, the sound reverberating in the air between you. Your body shuddered uncontrollably, waves of pleasure radiating from the core of your being, and in that moment, you surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure he had drawn from you. Each pulse of bliss washed over you, leaving you breathless and entirely at his mercy.

As the aftershocks faded, you couldn’t help but hope the spreader bar would see more use in the future—and if it meant you had to misbehave to make that happen, then so be it.

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[velarisdusk]

In the Stillness of Want

Day 18: Orgasm Control | Rhysand x Reader word count: 1.3k author's note: putting those daemati powers to WORK ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

The bedroom was dim, bathed in the soft glow of faelight, casting shadows that danced across the walls as Rhysand hovered over you. The scent of him — heady, like night-blooming flowers, spiced with salt and smoke — swirled in the air. You could feel it, that thick anticipation, the kind that crawled under your skin, leaving your body prickling and alive. Your pulse thundered, the beat of your heart so loud in your ears it drowned out the quiet sounds of the night. 

Rhysand’s dark eyes held yours, a predatory gleam in his eyes as his fingers traced lazy circles over the curve of your hip. His touch was featherlight, tantalizing, teasing you enough to make you want to scream. Every brush of his skin against yours sent a pulse of desire straight through you, pooling between your thighs, tightening in your belly. 

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he moved his hand lower, but it was still too light — too soft. A breathless whimper escaped your lips, and you arched into him, seeking more. His dark hair fell forward, brushing your skin as he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Every touch was measured, calculated to pull you along just far enough without giving you what you needed. You could feel it. Everywhere. 

A gasp escaped from you, fingers gripping the silk sheets beneath you as your hips shifted involuntarily, seeking more. But he withdrew, pulling back just as you chased that edge. Your breath caught, frustration burning in your chest. It was the way he toyed with you, hovering, withholding. 

“Patience,” he whispered, lips grazing your skin, and your whole body trembled. 

It was a word he’d whispered to you many times before, somewhere between the playful kisses and quiet confessions in the dark. You’d discussed what tonight would be, and now, lying there beneath him, body stretched taut, you felt the depth of it. Of his control, of your surrender. Of the power he wielded so effortlessly over you. He could push you to the edge and leave you suspended there for hours if he wanted. And you would let him.

The tension coiled inside you, tightening with every pass of his fingers, every word that ghosted into your mind. His mental touch was just as torturous as the physical — brushing the edges of your thoughts, reminding you that you weren’t in control. Not tonight. He could feel every tremor, every need, and he reveled in it. 

Your breath came faster as he continued his slow exploration, fingers ghosting over every inch of your skin, like he was learning you anew. There was a heat building inside you, one he stoked with every touch, every teasing caress that skimmed just close enough without giving you what you craved. 

You let out a frustrated sound, shifting beneath him, seeking more friction, but his power flared — just a subtle, invisible thread — and your body froze. The motion you’d tried to make was stopped dead, every limb locked in place, suspended in that moment of helpless anticipation. 

“Rhys…” you gasped, trying to plead, to beg. 

But he wouldn’t allow that either. 

Your throat tightened, words dying on your lips as his mental command silenced you. His gaze was molten, eyes filled with dark satisfaction as he felt you struggle. Inside, but unable to move, unable to speak. 

“Look at you…” Rhysand purred. “Completely at my mercy.”

You tried to move again, tried to arch your back, anything to find some relief from the building need inside you, but his power held firm, keeping you perfectly still. He dragged his fingers over your skin, teasing you, touching you in all the places you craved without giving you what you truly needed. 

Your body burned. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, suspended in the sheer pleasure of it, teetering on the edge of something immense but unable to fall. Every nerve screamed for release, but he denied you, over and over. You could feel the slick wetness between your thighs, the ache in your core that begged to be filled, but he wasn’t ready to give that to you yet. 

You look beautiful like this, Rhys whispered into your mind, his voice smooth as sin, the talons dragging over your mind sharp as a blade. So ready… so needy. His eyes darkened, a hint of that familiar wicked smile curling at the edges. He was enjoying this — watching you come apart, knowing you couldn’t do anything but feel. 

Those talons brushed your mind again, the barest tendril of power that slid through your thoughts like smoke. The touch was so intimate you could barely breathe. It felt like he was everywhere all at once — inside you, around you, holding your body in his invisible grip. The heat between your legs pulsed in time with your heartbeat, building.

You tried to speak again, tried to beg him to please do something, but the words froze in your throat as he held those back too. 

He hummed, eyes glittering with amusement as he leaned down to kiss you slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. His tongue slid over yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, and still, his power held you in that excruciating place, where every nerve was aflame, every breath a struggle to keep from breaking apart.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, the ache inside you growing unbearable, and yet he kept you there, helpless, trembling. His power wrapped tighter, pulling you closer to the edge than you thought possible, and then easing you off again. Every inch of you screamed in desperation, sensitive to the brush of his fingers, the heat of his breath, the control his mind had over yours. 

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. You were lost, drowning in the sensation, in the weight of his presence inside you, around you. It was as though every part of you was tuned to him, strung tight like a bow, waiting for the moment he would finally release you. 

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, his hand sliding lower between your legs. You could feel his satisfaction, his pleasure at watching you, feeling you struggle against the grip he had on your mind and body. “I suppose I could…”

Then his fingers brushed over your clit, just the lightest touch, and he loosened his hold on you — just enough for you to writhe beneath him. Your entire body trembled, and the tightness inside you snapped. You gasped, body quaking as the orgasm ripped through you.

But he didn’t stop there.

As the last wave of pleasure ebbed away, he wrapped those talons, that dark power, around your mind like a vice. Your eyes widened in shock, your body already exhausted and spent, but he didn’t care. He forced the orgasm back through you, dragging it out of you with a ruthless grip. 

He released your throat and you cried out his name over and over, your body jerking involuntarily, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, an unrelenting tide of pleasure that wracked your already spent body. He held you there, suspended in the midst of that forced climax, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as he toyed with you — his mind pressing you deeper into the release. 

When he finally let go, when he finally let you come down, you were breathless, your body limp beneath him. His lips brushed over your temple, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he whispered against your skin. 

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re not done yet. I think I can pull a few more out of you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @isnotwhatyourethinking

@randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex @fourthwing4ever

[secretlyobito]

Arguments with the jjk men

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji.

Contains: Fighting, making up after said fighting, eventual fluff, lots of assholery mainly from Toji, established relationships.

Satoru Gojo

Arguments with the blindfolded idiot were rare. Satoru's personality may be annoying to others, but it never has been to you, until now.

"Is everything just a joke to you?" You stood in front of Satoru seething, you hadn't intended for an argument but it was inevitable at this point. You couldn't really remember what started the fight but it had led you to the point of how Satoru never seemed to take your feelings seriously. When it first started happening, you'd play along with his dismissive attitude and even crack a little joke at first, but it got old real quick. Now it was no longer funny to you, it was frustrating, you didn't want to joke around all the time, you wanted at least an emblem of seriousness.

"You know I'm taking this serious sweets, you're just adorable when you're mad" he grins leaning back in his chair, using his feet to push it off the ground and back. "........." you nearly saw red, his dismissive attitude brought at a rage in you like never before. You weren't thinking straight, all you wanted to do was hurt him, wipe that stupid smile off his face if you will, and so you weren't thinking when the next words flew out of your mouth.

"You don't take anything seriously Gojo, that's the same way you brushed Geto off and let him spiral". Uh oh, the second the words left your mouth, you felt instant regret. Satoru had confided in you months after Geto's defection, telling you how he felt his neglectful attitude may have contributed to his best friend's mental breakdown, you comforted him and insisted it wasn't his fault only for you to turn around and use it against him in an argument.

Satoru was motionless, for once. You couldn't tell what his was thinking, his eyes were hidden by his glasses and his mouth set in a firm line. It worked, the silly grin was gone but at what cost?. His silence was stoking the flames of your guilt, it was so uncharacteristic of him to be this silent. "I'm sor-" he cuts you off as he abruptly turns around and leaves the room. The front door slams indicating he's left the house. You wince as you collapse on the couch, you consider chasing after him but decide to let him be incase he decides to hollow purple you (jk jk).

You don't even realize you've fallen asleep until you jerk awake at the sound of the front door closing and opening. You sit up abruptly hoping its satoru. It is. He walks into the room with a box in his hand, you stare in confusion as he walls towards you and holds the box out in front of your face, that serious expression on his face the whole time. You warily take it and open it, you stare in shock as you find it's a box of chocolate. "Satoru-"

"I'm sorry" he says sitting on the couch, you're about to protest when he cuts you off, "I know I don't take these things seriously and I joke about them, but that's only because...." he stares ahead blankly, his striking blue eyes staring ahead "that's only because I hate the idea of us fighting, so i brush it off hoping you'll forget about it" he looks up at the cieling, his snowy locks falling back with the movement "but I know now from experience that that isnt the answer, so I'm sorry" he finishes his statement still not looking at you, his voice was tinged with bitterness, the memories of Suguru flooding his mind, he did not want a repeat.

You stare in silence watching as he shuffles closer, pulling you into a hug. You embrace him back as you sniffle. "Don't think I've forgotten about your little comment, you'll just have to make it up to me later" he returns back to his playful demeanor, if he was offended he's decided to let it go and you're grateful for that, grateful this argument is over.

Suguru Geto

Arguments with Suguru were as common as breathing in air, the only thing is they were never serious. You could barely even call them arguments, they mostly consisted of intellectual banters and small disagreements here and there, the norm. This time however, was different. It was a few days after the fight with Toji and something was terribly off with him. He was never talkative but had become extra quiet, the dark circles around his eyes and skinny figure only adding to your worries.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong that's what I'm here for" "just leave Y/N, we'll talk later" he didn't even look at you as he uttered those cruel words, his back turned to you as he lay curled up in his bed. You stand over the bed, the cruel words repeating themselves in your head and stabbing at your resolve, you push your hurt away and decide to press further. "Is this about amanai?...Sugu that wasn't your fault-" "I said leave!" You flinched blinking in surprise, Suguru had never raised his voice at you before, no matter how heated things got. You turn around and immediately leave, not wanting him to see how you were about to burst into tears. Screw this, screw him.

Giggles and squeals can be heard as Suguru stands at the door to your apartment building, he was on his way to your flat to apologize for his previous actions before he encountered a family sitting on the benches outside playing with their kids. A constant thought had been turning Suguru's world upside down for the past few days, were the people he put his life on the line to protect even worth it? His tired eyes watch as the parents lovingly interacted with their children, why couldn't they extend this same love to others? Was it just selfishly limited to their own? He grits his teeth as he forces himself to tear his eyes away from the scene.

He enters the building, making his way up to your flat. A few of your neighbors recognize him and greet him, Suguru ignores them. He's jaded at this point and wants little as possible to do with people, yet he finds himself knocking at your door waiting earnestly for you to open it.

The door swings open after a few seconds revealing your neutral expression, if you were excited to see him, you sure didn't show it. "May I come in Y/N?" You step aside wordlessly, letting him in. He turns to you as he hands come to rest on your shoulders softly, "I'm sorry, I know you were just looking out for me and I shouldn't have raised my voice. Will you forgive me?" He asks mustering up a smile as beat as he could. You stare at him warily as he gives his signature closed eyes smile, there's something wrong with it, it seems so soulless, so empty.

None of it feels natural as he pulls you in after you nod, hugging you. It all seemed so fake, his smile, his apology, his touch. You sigh as you decide you must be reading too much into it, he came here and he apologized after all didn't he? Suguru watches as you hug in back in resignation, he watches as you push aside your doubts and begin to talk about your day, a small smile making it's way unto your face.

Good, he wanted you to remember him like this, your Suguru. He watches you as you continues to speak, happy that at least in this moment, he could shield you from who he was about to become.

Nanami Kento.

For as long as you can remember, you never argued with Kento, he was just that guy. Whatever disagreements that rose up were swiftly dealt with and put away by Nanami, in a way that made you feel heard and reassured.

He was protective but tried his best not to suffocate you. Being a jujutsu sorcerer, he knew the dangers that lurk and around and would absolutely not be able to forgive himself if you got hurt. Today was one of those days you got home late from work. The clock read 8pm, three hours since you were supposed to be home and kento was worried sick.

He had sent you several texts and tried to call but he recieved nothing back in return. He was in the process of putting on his shoes to head to your workplace when you suddenly barged into the apartment, giggling as you waved to the person who dropped you off. Kento stood in the half motion of tying his shoes as he watches you laugh and giggle while he's been worried sick for the past three hours. You shut the door and nearly pass away from fright when you see your husband standing like a statue staring at you.

"Christ ken! What are you doing" "what am I doing? I could ask you the same thing" you frowned as he responded in a slightly clipped tone, attitude much?. "What do you mean?" He sighs rubbing his forehead as he suppresses his frustration, shutting his eyes. "Why didn't you at least text me to let me know you would be coming back home late?" "I don't have to tell you everything all the time" Nanami's eyes snap open as he watches you in disbelief, what the hell kind of response like that? If this was anybody else, he would've put them in their place without even hesitating, but you were his wife and he was going to deal with this calmly, at least he would try.

"What?" You shrug as you fold your arms defensively, "I just went out with some friends after work, it's not like i went to a night club" "The issue is not you going out love, the problem is that you didn't tell me" "oh my gosh ken, can we not do this right now? I'm exhausted" "I know but-" " you don't have to be so uptight all the time ken" you joke but your words hit nanami's heart like an arrow. Everyone around him always called him uptight and bossy, it upset him but he didn't care because he knew the one person he cares about doesn't see him that way, and knows he just hated to see people get hurt, or at least he did.

His heart twists at the cruel words but his expression remains perfectly neutral "you don't think do you?" Now it was your turn to gawk. "What if something had happened to you while you were out? How would I get to you? How would I even know something was wrong?" With each word, he takes a step toward you, his voice rising a little. "You think this about some petty jealousy or about being controlling? The world is literally dangerous, you could've been attacked by a curse. Then what? Would you still prefer me to be lax?" Nanami is about to say more when he sees the tears gather in your eyes.

Now he feels like a jerk, did you have it coming? Absolutely. Did he have to be mean about it? No. He sighs as he reaches out to cradle your cheek "don't do that, don't cry please" "I'm sorry ken, I just-" he pulls you into his chest as he lets you cry, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pats your back. He shushes you as he winces internally at the sound of your sobs. Was he really that mean? "Sweetheart I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry", he continues to soothe you and sighs in relief when you crying subsides. "I was just stressed with work ken, I'm sorry I took it out on you" "I'm sorry, I raised my voice as well, I was just frustrated" he runs his fingers through your hair. "Promise me you'll always tell me where you are? I just need to be able to keep you safe" "I promise" "Good" He reaches out and pinches your snotty nose, laughing at your attempts to swat him away, happy at the reconciliation.

Fushiguro Toji

Toji was somewhat of a grade A asshole, somewhat because he absolutely tried his best not to be when he was around you, you actually meant something to him.

He returned from his latest assignment which was a bust, he failed to kill his target which left him with no pay, which in turn meant he had to scrap by for the rest of the month. You generously let him stay in your apartment whenever he wanted and told him he could lean on you whenever he was in financial problems. Don't get me wrong, he absolutely appreciated the gesture but felt slightly emasculated. He wanted to be the one to take care of you not the other way round. The whole situation put him in a sour mood, which meant he had to stay away from you so as not to lash out accidentally.

You noticed Toji had been avoiding you all evening, he didn't give you his usual kiss whenever he returned from work, neither did he answer your questions. It didn't have to be said, you knew he was having one of those bad days again where he avoids you and doesn't accept any hospitality you offered him, still you wanted to make sure he was ok.

"Toji?" You called out softly from the doorway as he sat on the living room couch watching TV, he grunts in response not even looking at you. "You know, you don't have to push me away. I completely understand what you're going through. None of what might've happened makes you less of a partner or even less of a father like you always think!" His eyes widen slightly "I just want you to know I understand and I'm always here for you" you finish your little speech, smiling sweetly at him. For the first time that evening his cold eyes lock unto your's "what the fuck do you think you know?" Your jaw nearly drops to the floor as you gape at him.

He gets up, his face twisted into a scowl. "What the fuck could you possibly know about my parenting or my kids? Because I crash on your couch you're suddenly an expert on my life?" He laughs coldly as he taps on your forehead with his pointer finger "you don't know a thing doll" and with that the cruelty in his speech and demeanor is gone, now he's smiling at you as if he didn't just humiliate you.

You clench your jaw as the embarrassment and anger flood your veins "get out" you point to the door shakily, tears running down for face as you desperately wipe them away. Toji sighs as he watches you cry, wincing as you sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it just slipped out I didn't mean it" he apologizes as he cautiously itches closer towards you. "Get out" you repeat, less firm this time as your voice shakes from crying. He embraces you, wiping at your tears.

"I'm sorry angel, I-" he sighs shushing you as you cry harder "I had a rough day, that's why I didn't want to be around you so i don't dumb shit like this" "shhh I'm sorry". You eventually calm down, this wasn't the first time Toji jas lashed out but this was definitely the cruelest. "Why do you always have to say mean things" "I'm sorry doll, I didn't mean any of it"

The rest of the night is spent being pampered by Toji as he makes up for his behaviour.

And yes, I made the reader the instigator in some of the scenarios, whatchu gonna do about it >:) .For those asking about the part 3 of my itachi arranged marriage series, it'll be ready soon I promise😭😭

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Its 1am where I live and I'm literally about to fall asleep but nevertheless! Here are some more jjk scenarios, this time with Toji! Ya'll I had no idea how exhausting it can be to write for multiple characters 😭 it think I'll just stick to these four for now(forever).

[highinmiamiii]

MONEY POWER GLORY

club owner!joe kessler x exotic dancer

A/N: this piece goes hand in hand with @billybutcherxyou / @foxiewrites and I’s DBF!Butcher series. best to be read alongside their most recent post, so make sure to check that out first. (cw: themes of manipulation, power dynamics, implied threats, and mentions of the adult entertainment industry.) NO USE OF Y/N

summary: Kessler, the sleazy owner of Club Kess, where petal works, dangles promises of fame and fortune, but his intentions are far from pure. Highlighting petal’s willingness to play his game, even as she’s fully aware of the dangers that come with it.

—————

She walks into the dimly lit office at the back of the club, the heavy bass from the music outside thrumming through the walls. Kessler, the club’s owner, sits behind an oversized mahogany desk, a fine Cuban cigar smoldering between his fingers. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and the faint tang of his expensive cologne. His eyes, sharp and calculating, follow her as she approaches, amusement flickering in them.

“Ah, there she is,” Kessler purrs, his voice smooth like honey with an underlying edge that makes your skin crawl if you listen too closely. He leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he gestures for her to sit. “My favorite girl.”

She offers him a small, confident smile, though there’s a tightness in her chest she can’t quite shake. She’s been working for him for some time now, just barely making enough to have a little extra cash after repaying her father’s debts and getting out of every negative situation. Billy still couldn’t seem to get off her ass. She’s good at what she does, and she’s determined to be more than just another one of Kessler’s showgirls.

Once she had even the slightest taste of financial freedom to splurge on a cute top or take herself out to lunch somewhere nice, she’d never go back to her old life. Her life had been full of losses, wins, failures, and falls.

Kessler’s gaze never wavers as she takes her seat across from him, the leather chair creaking slightly under her weight. He exhales a long plume of smoke, watching her with that same calculated amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse.

“I’ve been watching you,” Kessler continues, his eyes narrowing as he takes a drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around his face like a serpent. “You’ve got something… special. A spark, if you will.”

“You’ve been doing good work, sweetheart,” he says, the endearment slipping from his lips like it’s second nature. His voice carries a certain weight, commanding attention, respect, and maybe even a little fear. “Better than most of the girls who walk through that door.”

Her smile widens just a fraction; the words hit their mark. She’s been craving validation like this—something to tell her that all the hours, the effort, the sacrifices are worth it. The faint praise settles into her bones, stoking the fire she keeps burning inside.

“Well, I aim to please,” she replies smoothly, her voice laced with just the right amount of sultriness. She knows how to play her part, knows what Kessler wants to hear. And she’s more than willing to give it to him if it means getting what she wants in return.

Kessler’s smirk deepens, his eyes glittering with something dark, something dangerous. “That’s why you’re my favorite, baby,” he purrs, leaning forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory intensity. “You’ve got the looks, the talent, the drive. Everything a girl needs to make it big. And I’m gonna make sure you do.”

She feels a thrill of anticipation run through her at his words. She’s been chasing this dream for as long as she can remember—the idea of being more than just another face in the crowd, of standing out, of having everything she’s ever wanted. Money, power, glory. The trifecta that’s kept her going through every hardship, every setback.

“A-anything, Mr. Kessler,” she says, her voice almost a whisper, leaning in slightly as if she’s afraid to miss a single word. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Kessler’s smile is almost fatherly as he leans back in his chair, taking another drag from his cigar. He likes this part—the moment they’re fully under his spell, ready to do whatever it takes to make his promises come true. He’s seen it a hundred times before, but there’s something about her that makes it all the more satisfying.

“It’s simple, really,” he says, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, baby—keep turning heads, keep bringing in the crowds. Make them want more of you, make them crave you. And when the time is right, when you’re ready, we’ll take that next step.”

He pauses, letting the words sink in, watching as her eyes widen just a fraction, her breath catching slightly in her throat. He’s got her, and he knows it.

“What next step?” she asks, her voice hushed, almost afraid of the answer.

Kessler’s smirk returns, sharper this time. “Movies, baby. Real stardom. You’ve got a face for the camera, and I’m gonna make sure you get there. But you have to trust me, follow my lead. Do that, and you’ll have everything that pretty little heart o’ yours desires.”

She bites her lower lip, a move she knows he finds irresistible, playing into the moment. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear—the promise of something more, something bigger than the life she’s been living. Dealing with her asshole of a father and his gambling debts, instead of living the life of a normal girl her age, she was working the pole at Club Kess. She’s come too far to turn back now, and Kessler knows that. He’s got her wrapped around his finger, and she can’t even bring herself to care.

“I trust you,” she says, the words coming out easily, as if they were always meant to be spoken. “I’m a big girl, I can take it,” she adds cheekily.

Kessler chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down her spine. He reaches out, brushing a thumb across her cheek, the touch as possessive as it is comforting.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll make sure the whole world knows your name.”

She feels her heart pound with a mix of fear and excitement. She’s heard the rumors, knows what happens to the girls who fall out of Kessler’s favor, but she’s convinced it won’t happen to her. She’s different. She has to be.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locking onto hers with predatory intensity. “You want more than just the dance floor. You want to be a star.”

The word hangs in the air between them, heavy with unspoken promises. She can feel the pull, the allure of everything she’s ever wanted, dangling just out of reach. But there’s a part of her, the smart part, that knows there’s always a catch when someone like Kessler is involved.

“I do,” she admits, keeping her voice soft, almost vulnerable, knowing that’s what he’s looking for. “But I know it’s not easy. I’m willing to work for it.”

Kessler’s grin widens, and for a moment, she can see the wolf behind the businessman. “That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart,” he says, his tone oozing with false sincerity. “You’re different. I see big things in your future. Movies, magazine covers, hell, maybe even your own show one day.”

The flattery is relentless, and she finds herself nodding along, even as a small voice in the back of her mind tells her not to fall for it. But it’s hard not to, especially when he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

The words are intoxicating, and for a moment, she lets herself believe them. But then Kessler’s gaze hardens, just for a split second, and she catches a glimpse of the man behind the mask—the one who’s willing to destroy anyone who doesn’t play by his rules.

“But remember,” he adds, his tone shifting to something colder, more menacing, “this business is tough. It chews up the weak and spits them out. You keep up your end of the bargain, and I’ll keep up mine. But cross me… and, well, I’m sure you know what happens to girls who get on my bad side.”

She forces herself to smile, to play along with his game. “I won’t disappoint you, I promise,” she says, her voice smooth as silk, hiding the unease coiling in her gut.

“Good girl,” he replies, the smirk returning as he leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Now, go out there and show them what you’re made of. Got big plans for you.”

She nods, offering him one last smile before she turns.

As she’s about to leave, Kessler’s voice cuts through the lingering haze of cigar smoke. “Actually—hold on a sec, baby,” he drawls, his tone smooth but with an edge that halts her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Kessler reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out an old Polaroid camera, the kind that spits out instant photos with a soft mechanical whirr. He holds it up, a sly grin spreading across his face. “One more thing before you go. Gotta get a picture to go with the others, yeah? Keeps things personal, keeps us close.”

She hesitates for a moment, feeling a strange twist in her gut. This wasn’t part of the usual routine, but then again, Kessler always liked to blur the lines. “A Polaroid?” she asks, forcing a light tone, though she can’t keep the edge of suspicion out of her voice.

Kessler chuckles, but it’s a low, menacing sound that sends a shiver down her spine. “Just for the collection,” he says, as if that explains everything. “A little keepsake for me. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

The unease deepens, but she can see the challenge in his eyes, the unspoken command. He wants her to trust him, to play along. And if she refuses, if she makes a scene, she knows what that might mean for her future here.

So, she swallows her discomfort and flashes him her best smile, the one she reserves for customers she’s trying to impress. “Of course, Mr. Kessler,” she says sweetly, stepping closer to the desk.

Kessler’s grin widens as he raises the camera, the lens glinting in the dim light. “Say cheese, darling.”

She hears the click, followed by the whir of the camera spitting out the photo. Kessler catches it before it hits the desk, holding it by the edges as the image slowly develops.

She forces herself to stay calm, to keep that practiced smile in place, even as Kessler’s gaze flicks between her and the photo with a predatory glint. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her, before he slips the photo into his desk drawer, locking it away.

“Alright, baby,” he says, his tone returning to that of the smooth-talking club owner. “You go on now. Remember, I’m watching.”

She nods, mutters a soft “thank you,” and finally makes her exit, feeling the weight of his gaze on her until she’s out the door. As she steps back into the dimly lit hallway, the thumping bass from the club outside washing over her like a wave, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just crossed some invisible line, one she might not be able to step back from.

But she pushes the thought aside. This is what she wanted—what she needed. If playing Kessler’s game was the price she had to pay for her shot at fame and fortune, then so be it. She’d play, and she’d win.

Because she knew one thing for sure: in this world, you either play the game or get played. And she wasn’t about to let herself become just another one of Kessler’s pawns.

[peachdues]

THE SWEET FAR THING (TEASER)

Knight!Kyojuro x F!Royal!Reader

Kyojuro my beloved, it is your time to shine again.

Have a sneak peek from my Royal AU featuring one of mt favorite tropes — sworn protector/guard x royal.

Obviously this will be super NSFW, who do y’all think I am.

CW: suggestive/horny content ahead.

Scene context: angy Knight Rengoku slips into your chambers late at night following a failed coup attempt.

He’s angry and you know why — you’d directly disobeyed his orders and launched yourself headfirst into the chaos which erupted in the Great Hall.

His presence in your rooms is daunting; a dark anger ripples off him like waves of heat roll off stone in the summer, and yet he says not a word as he slowly stalks toward where you stand near the edge of your bed.

A predator stalking his prey.

Only when the tips of his boots meet the toes of your slippers, only when you feel the blustering heat rolling off his body and enveloping you within its suffocating warmth, does Sir Rengoku open his mouth.

“Where.” It is all he says, his voice low and rich. His eyes are twin pools of molten ore, but even now, you can see the rage simmering within their ochre depths.

“Where.” He repeats, though his tone is harsher.

“‘Where what, Sir Rengoku?” Your voice is as soft as the shadows cast around the walls of your chambers by the flames crackling merrily in your hearth.

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “Your wounds,” his face twists as though the very thought of any harm befalling you is offensive. “Where are they.”

It is not a question, but a demand; one that you know spells trouble if you should answer truthfully.

Trouble that piques your interest nonetheless; one that stokes a curiosity within you that you know is dangerous.

You pursue it anyways. “I am unharmed.”

The knight’s mouth curls into a snarl at the obviousness of your lie. “That is not what the healer claimed.”

“What good is the word of a healer against the crown?” Defiance rears its head within you, eager to both rise to his challenge and to see exactly how far you can push him. “Is my word not law?”

Rengoku scoffs as he steps closer, his leg slotting between your thighs and forcing you to lean back into tour bed frame for support. “It may be so,” he admits, though the fury in his eyes make no such concessions. “But empires built on baseless laws are inevitably doomed to fall.”

“Meaning?”

The Knight’s eyes flash. “Your words are horseshit and you know it.”

He’s right and but you’ll be damned before you admit it.

“You overstep,” the bite of your glare is belied by the way you’re forced to shift your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, as you try your best not to think about the burning press of his thigh between yours. “Now kindly remove yourself from my chambers.”

Rengoku makes no effort to move and his obstinacy thrills you.

Instead, his hands rise to the front tie of your dressing gown and begin tugging, slowly undoing the haphazard knot you’d fastened in your haste to make yourself decent.

Your fleeting moment of triumph is chased away by the breath which lodges in your throat.

“What are you doing?”

Your knight — your fiery, loyal, compassionate yet utterly insufferable knight — slides a single hand between the parted folds of your robe, coming to rest on the dip of your waist covered only by the thing fabric of your nightgown.

The weight of his palm feels like a brand against your skin. “Since you refuse to be forthright about the extent of your injuries,” Rengoku says, pushing the robe away from your shoulders. “I shall have to take inventory of them myself.”

Your dressing gown drops to the bed behind you before sliding to the floor to puddle around your feet. Wordlessly, Rengoku steps away just enough to kneel before you, though his eyes remain locked with yours.

You are wading into treacherous waters, and you know you are without any raft or life preserver which could keep you afloat.

“I shall scream,” you warn, though you do not mean it; not really. You intend only to give him an out, a means to come back to his senses before the blazing heat of his stare consumes you both. “I shall alert the rest of the palace guard.”

His fingers skim up the length of your shin, a phantom caress that is a mockery of how you truly wish for him to touch you.

“My duty is to guard the Crown and ensure no harm befalls it, your Majesty,” Rengoku’s breath follows the path carved by his hands up your legs. He pauses at the knee-length hemline of your nightgown, his chin resting against the slight bend in your leg.

It nearly frightens you how much you adore seeing him on his knees, peering up at you like you are the embodiment of salvation itself.

“So by all means, call forth the Guard,” the Knight’s fingers slowly push below the hem of your nightdress, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Call forth every living creature within the palace, for all I care. They will see only the Princess’s Knight, carrying out his sworn duties and managing her every need.”

Your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as Rengoku’s fingers tease higher and higher up your thigh. “And what are my needs, Sir Rengoku?”

Your flame-haired protector only hums. “To have your wounds tended to, for starters,” and it takes everything in you not to let your head fall back with a cry as Rengoku presses a single, chaste kiss just above your knee.

But the sweetness of the gesture is undercut by the darkness of his gaze. “And to be punished for directly defying the orders of your Guard.”

yes daddy punish me —

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

teasing/testing/kissing 🥵 the devil request for lovely anon it's a short one, sorry about that! this heat's killing me. i might revisit this at some point. thank you so much once again laura for all of your help, advice and encouragement ❤️

Read on AO3

-

So dangerous it was to tease a devil, like holding your hand out near a hungry lion’s mouth. At some point he’d snatch out, faster than she could pull back, and the game would be over – but until then, Tav couldn’t deny the rush she experienced each time she denied him, each time she slipped away just as his claws were about to sink into her soft mortal flesh. The frustration, the intrigue that alighted his clever eyes and tensed his handsome shadowed jaw, were delicious treats she shamelessly feasted on. Holding any semblance of power over a creature like Raphael was addicting. To know he desired her the way she desired him was enough to make her toes curl in her boots.

The more he pulled, the more she pushed. At first it was light, easy. Heated glances shared, a flirty word here or there from a naturally charismatic charmer who liked to talk; words that she would return, equally blasé, equally sultry. To let him know she was interested. That she wanted to play. It was fun. Thrilling. Ah, but she was fanning the embers of a roaring inferno in her passionate devil, and she simply couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.

“Have a drink with me,” he began to ask, to challenge. She wouldn’t be baited.

“Maybe some other time,” she’d say, all faux regret and longing, dissolving into the fog of day-to-day before he could ensnare her, wolf and doe.

She began to see more of him. Raphael wedged himself into her life in spaces she didn’t know existed, always smouldering with the want she’d stoked, always challenging. Tempting, same as she. Push me a little further, sweet thing, his dark gaze promised, and find out what I’ll do.

As it turned out, steal her away to the Hells where she couldn’t escape him was what he’d do. A snap of his fingers after one nudge too far – really, all she did was blow a kiss, hardly cause for kidnapping – and she was in the House of Hope. Nowhere to escape. To be devoured at last.

“You’ve played with fire without consequence for far too long, little mouse,” the devil purred. Crowded her. They were in his personal chambers, she thought. Subtle. “I think it’s time you got burned.”

“I’m fireproof,” Tav declared, arms crossed.

“Are you now? Hmm…I think we should test that claim, shouldn’t we?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, the rough pads of his fingertips hot. He was savouring the sensation of her blood risen beneath her skin by her flush, his eyes intense, a little twitch of amusement in his expression. He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, pulled it a little.

“Yes, we should,” Tav breathed. She was entranced by him. Enchanted. She couldn’t help it. He smelled like fire, smoke, cherries. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty mouth, twisted into a smirk. How the tables had turned.

“How should we test it?”

“Kiss me,” Tav murmured. Raphael chuckled, a deep and raspy sound that gave Tav goosebumps. His glinting, arresting brown eyes became half-lidded with satisfaction.

“Given your recent behaviour, I don’t think you deserve it,” he crooned, petting at her cheeks like she were a sweet pup. He relished in her brief outrage, frustration, but it didn’t last. She was too sly.

“Well, then. I suppose you’ll never know if my claim was true, will you?” She hummed. Looking up at him. Their faces so close their breaths mingled. “And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the game. I thought you devils liked a chase. Unless those things you said about preferring it when clients put up a fight was all talk…”

“Impertinent chit,” he growled without venom.

“Got under your skin though, didn’t I?” Tav said smugly.

“Hardly,” Raphael scoffed. Tav’s smile turned a little mean.

“Then it won’t matter to you if, say…I kiss Haarlep instead, will it?”

“You will do no such thing.” This time Raphael’s snarl was sharp. He gripped her jaw tight, his ring and pinky fingers teasing the column of her throat. She gasped as he nuzzled beneath her ear, spoke directly into it. The scratch of his stubble felt so good. “How comfortable you are with me…such a lack of respect. I wonder, what should I do about it…?”

“Fucking kiss me already,” Tav snapped breathlessly. At last, the devil acquiesced – or at least with what he considered a kiss. Even he couldn’t deny their magnetism forever.

He bit at her. Sank his teeth into her plump bottom lip, sucked it into the humid cavern of his mouth to taste the tiny beads of blood he drew. Tav groaned, grabbed fistfuls of his coat. He still held her jaw, controlled the pace of his “kiss”, but Tav was never one to lay down and take it. She bit him right back, licked at his silky thin lips, lingered in their corners to push her gasps behind his teeth and make him feel them in his throat. In his lungs. Their mouths joined in a proper kiss, and this time Tav greedily swallowed Raphael’s throaty grunt. He kissed the same way he bit: hard, consuming, selfish. Tav couldn’t get enough. One hand abandoned its place on his chest and slid up the back of his neck. She sank her fingers into his lush hair, gripped his locks and tugged. He pressed her against the wall, overwhelmed her with the squash of his body. She could tell how he felt about each indulgent pull of his dark roots by the stiffness nudging against her belly, how his hips jerked with every tug. A pleasant squeeze of arousal settled in her gut. So damn good. Eventually they peeled apart, both breathing heavy.

“So,” Tav panted. The tips of their noses brushed. She yanked his hair again just to make him shudder, so she could watch the expansion of his pupils, the pleasure on his face. “Proof enough for you yet?”

The devil’s grin held a fleeting hint of fangs. “Not even close.”

[princessfbi]

Kisses twelve for Bucktommy

Kisses + 12. Against a wall kiss + Bucktommy

Danger. That’s what he tasted like. Danger. Danger and those stupid freaking cherries he kept popping in his mouth whenever he lingered in one spot for too long. The same mouth Tommy couldn’t resist. Not even as he clawed his own nails into his thighs until he was sure he would bruise or looked away whenever he was near or ground his teeth to dust as he watched him flirt with other people at the bar. Did they feel it too? Did they feel like they were the center of the universe when those sky blue eyes were focused on them? Did they feel the burn in their chest when they watched those two perfectly plump lips lift up into a smirk? Did it matter? Because none of them were out there with them. Just Tommy. Just Tommy was getting to kiss Evan with a hunger that had been churning in his gut. Evan made a small, desperate sound as his back hit the wall behind him. His hands, his legs, wrapped around Tommy like he wanted to climb him like a tree. It was frantic and messy with teeth clashing and tongues battling but Tommy didn’t care. It was dangerous and stupid. Anyone could walk out on them. His whole freaking house was just past that barely propped open back door and all it would take was for someone to come looking for him to find him like this. The thought had his heart lurching up into his throat. Tommy sucked in a breath that burned harsher than whiskey as lips pulled away. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Maybe this was all he could ever have. But he knew he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to be seen that way. “No one can know,” Tommy said, his voice more of a growl when murmuring those words against Evan’s lips. He hated himself for it when Evan's lips were so soft. He bit after his mouth, sucking Evan’s top lip in between his teeth and pushed in with his tongue to stoke the fire some more. Evan shuddered in his arms as the filthiest little whine filled Tommy’s lungs. They shouldn’t. Someone would come looking for him. Howie probably. And Howie was the best of them. He wouldn’t look at him differently if he found Tommy with a hard on and the twunkie bartender in his arms. But he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t stop either. Not when his hands wrapped so perfectly around Evan’s waist. Not when Evan tipped his head up and chased after Tommy’s mouth like he never wanted to let go. Evan arched up into him and Tommy groaned as that hard unmistakable length rutted against his own. Pleasure sparked like kindling and Tommy was engulfed with Evan Evan Evan. He pinned Evan’s hips back and could’ve gotten drunk of the way Evan responded to that. Evan writhed beneath him. Fingers fisted in his shirt collar and tugged and pulled on the fabric until it was going to be so overstretched he’d never be able to wear it in public again. “Come on,” Evan said, grinning against Tommy’s mouth. Tommy bit another kiss for his troubles. “You think I’m going to ruin this? Do you know how hard it was to get your attention?” Tommy stopped at that, his heart thundering in his chest. “My attention?” Evan hummed as he nodded and Tommy saw it there too. That flash of vulnerable honesty that streaked across the cocky overconfidence. All that flirting. All that torture he’d put Tommy through and it was to get his attention? Tommy's? But that vulnerable truth? That small token given to Tommy for safe keeping? It made something in Tommy's chest flutter free from the cage he'd locked himself in all those years ago and for once, Tommy didn't want to chase it back. It was Evan’s turn then to hide. He skated his hands into Tommy’s hair and pulled him down, sighing into the kiss when Tommy blanketed him with his body. He fit so perfectly in his arms. Yeah. Tommy was screwed.

For @buddie-buddie and @bigfootsmom

[wakacreations]

Raphael: I Am Always Waiting

Author's Note:

I saw this neat animation by @smnc45. I do not write Raphael often but I wanted to try my shot at their prompt.

Prompt:

Can someone please write Raphael x reader angst where they’ve been married for like 50 years and now it’s time for reader to pass on and they’re having this bittersweet moment together in reader’s final moments

Word Count: 2935

Summary:

The cat and mouse game has come to an end. When the mouse's time draws near who came out victorious?

It is almost that time again when a devil would celebrate the most joyous occasion. When a thumping of a heart becomes a precious coin. Currency to pocket, to twiddle between one's claws and to eye at the brilliance of its metallic polish. The great tragedies within these circular vessels tell tales to other archdevils of the beautiful follies of man. What depraved sacrifices they would make out of their own hubris. I have acquired many a coin through my millennia. There to amass my strength in the hells but I have grown fond of a few in my possession. There is but one that awaits, a soul coin that holds my palm so dear. I find you laying on your death bed.

You were but a mere mortal for some unforeseen circumstances were chosen by fate to be a tadpole inhabitor. It would be easy for I to acquire such a desperate soul. You truly were desperate you know. I watched from afar to see you squirm. You did shop around quite a bit before you accepted your only option left, mine. There were the words of a lullaby from Cormyr that I spoke to you when we first met. In those times, I called you mouse and I the fox but these days you call me a domestic house pet, a cat. You are lucky that I am quite fond of such creatures. Dogs are duller but I thought through your journey you would become one. You do look lovely chasing after my heels. Whether it be for that spawnling or that little swindler of a tiefling girl, you were adamant she wouldn't be in good care. Like an irritating pest, you entered my sactome where you do not belong despite your agreement to meet at Sharess’ Caress. You left quite a bit of chaos in your wake. Your flowing locks looked beautiful against the emerald glow of my pillars. Even now as you have aged so gracefully. I pluck a hair back behind your ear. 

“You had every right to kill me on that day.”

There were tears in your eyes as you resheaved your blade. Was that pity you showed me back then? You brought mercy on me as I was prone at my own door. You jumped through the portal with Hope and Mol’s contract in hand with not even a glance back. I am but the big bad devil in those fairytale stories you listen to when you slumber.

“I could never be anything more,” pulling back my hand.

Those all too familiar taunting eyes that stoked my obsession were before me. There is not anymore of you left in that feeble mind of yours. “You never did give me that crown I desire,” I chuckled dryly. You blinked at me trying to recognize these human features of mine.

“You spent the good first ten years running away from me, mouse.”

Through the hells you searched for the cure for one of Zariel’s warmachines and the “Blade of Avernus” close behind.

“All you needed to do was ask and we could have cut another deal.”

The next ten you were off in the Underdark away from the sunlight. You and that Spawn were off to find a cure. You knew I was still waiting for you as you felt my infernal heat lurking in the shadows. I held the artifact of your sole desire for your little “friend”.

“I could have dragged you into the Hells against your will, you contemptuous creature. You went willingly for that decade only in exchange for his precious sunlight!”

You just smiled at the words I uttered. Even when I had opened my doors for you, my House of Hope. Yet, you chose to find any means of escape for that time you spent with me in the Hells.

“I allowed you to rest in your own company in Faerun. I do take care of my pets.” I closed my eyes.

You wandered through the material plane with no company but my watchful eyes. The ten years you spent there, you looked so peaceful but what joy it was to tear you away from it all.

“You asked me to form one last contract with you. When your time ran out on your home plane.”

Your words echoed in my mind like an accursed song.

“I will show you why devils obsess with mortals. Why you yearn so desperately to chase me through the planes?” You looked up at the sky as you laid in a field of wildflowers. You never looked so at ease for as long as I watched you. “That's quite a presumption on your part, little mouse. I know when something or someone is of value,” blocking your view of the clear skies above. “Make this contract with me and in exchange my time will end as fate decides.” You reached your palm out to me. There is still that tenaciousness in your eyes. “What do I gain out of this exchange? It seems you think contracts are only for your benefit? Make me an offer I can't refuse.” I leaned down to get a better look at you. You waved your arm waiting for me to shake it. You never grew out of your childish ways have you? “Aren't you curious, Raphael? What is life's value to a mortal? You know the answer to. What is life's value to an immortal? Maybe I would change your mind? You would have my soul coin for all eternity, no?” You smiled that mischievous grin as such from the day you inked your name on our first contract. Your small hand wrapped in my own heated infernal clawed grasp.

I have watched your struggles and your despair on the long nights on your journey. The begging to your companions to stay right of justice when uncertainty lies in wait for them. The screams of agony of whom you rescued meeting their untimely destined fate. The endless slaying of the army of the Absolute who set to cause chaos to your home, Faerun. The chosen three all prone to your blade but when it came time to pay your dues for a sacrifice to be made I answered your call. You couldn't stand by and become a mindflayer. Yet, you put that horrible image of tentacles caressing your body in the forefront of my mind out of fear of what is to befall you. There was luck I still held use for you when I put the Orphic Hammer in your palms. I reopened my eyes.

"You owe me more than you are worth." I restoked the fire when a little sneezed escaped you.

We have two different minds when it comes to being a savior. Your body is still riddled with scars as you take in your shallow breaths. I could have kept you the way you were before. I turned my head away from the sight of you now. Korrilla kept updates on your whereabouts after the fall of the Netherbrain. You still sacrificed yourself for those companions who've left nothing for you in return. There is a madness to you, mouse but perhaps is there abyssal that runs through your family's line?

“A debt is still owed by you, little mouse.” I attempted to coax a reaction out of you.

How many times must I catch you out of the clutches of Kelemvor? Day after day I watched you writhed in pain for unnecessary sacrifices you've made. Do you choose to run after death so eagerly? Withers, your Jergal will not be bringing you back! In the Hells, I helped vanquish Zariel’s forces when you scurried into her forges. I presented you with the means to free your darling, Astarion. I turned a blind eye when you still chose to meet with the other companions in your “solitude” in Faerun. What mouse could you show me what I haven't already known? What am I an immortal being could I experience that I haven't in my entire existence? You have proven to always surprise me.

“This last contract with you will be the death of me. I spent decades chasing you, mouse but I could enjoy this last one. We would make for such a great tragedy that would be played throughout the Nine Hells.”

For the last time you grabbed my hand into your own. You kept your promise and your word.

On the first night, you whispered such sweet words that could rival the burning alluring taste of succubi/incubi spittle. Was it because you have accepted your fate? When sleep cradled your head you sang a lullaby of your restless heart. Let your tears fall. There will be no other who will witness them. One night I overheard a confession in the privacy of the company of you and that Astarion many moons ago. “I like him too. But I'd never say it to his smarmy face.” Was such a thing true, little mouse? I watched as you stirred in your sleep. I left you that morning in your final home called Hope. 

Time is but a blink to the eyes of the Hells. I took you to see all I could offer you and what otherworldly indulgences mortals have spent with the precious coin they held in their chest. We watched a theater production of the Netherbrain and the valiant heroes who sought its demise. I had to jostle you from your insistent snoring. There you gave me your signature glare. I would admit the production does not do it justice. We fought and bickered like time never moved. 

You are quite frail these days. You got winded as we passed by the taverns you used to haunt. I asked you if you would make an addendum to our contract but you politely declined. Time will catch up to you as I eyed them. My, what former shadow you are now mouse?

You have been coughing as of late. You waved it off saying you were fine. The air in Avernus is not suited for those of sensitive lungs. I summoned forth a cleric to see to your care. You argued with me for the first time in a long while. I almost assumed the great savior of Baldur’s Gate was reduced to such a sorry state. I must have been mistaken.

The cleric came to my office to give their report. Our dwellings will need to be mended for you to exist in my home. They suggested a visit to Faerun will improve your recovery. I asked you at lunch, where do you plan to visit this evening? You would come back to the same conclusion… Baldur’s Gate. I don't blame you. The scars of that parasite did ingrain into you where you are supposed to be.. but you are free to go anywhere, now my dear. You still insisted that is where you wish to spend your time. By all means as we reappeared in the city square.

Your mind has been wandering for quite some time. You asked what had happened to your companions. Were they alright? Those would be appropriate questions if not for having conversed with them a moment prior before. If I knew you would start babbling like one of my debtors, I would have put having a sound mind as part of a clause. It was time for dinner but you still refused. You said I poisoned you whenever you ate. I made it clear time and time again it was to keep you in sound mind. You screamed at me. You wouldn’t become a mindflayer! I held you close and stroked your hair as you weathered another one of your fits again. I felt your tears soak through my doublet when I carried you to bed. Is this how you truly wish to spend the rest of our days, mouse?

How could you smile so sweetly on our final day together?

“You know, I have truly come to despise you.” Your hand squeezes my own.

“You do not recall half the words I utter!” I felt the hellfire coating my palm. You didn’t pull your hand away from my own when the flames threatened to engulf you. You wailed in agony but still you did not let go.

“What is the value of a life to an immortal?” Your words that day came back to my mind.

“Where has time gone?” For the first time my voice had wavered, the hellfire dissipated. You pulled my hand over your heart.

“You know my precious cat, devils love a good chase. If I were to give in to you long before, would you have obsessed with me just the same?” There is that giggle that rings like church bells.

“You never gave me much choice in the matter, little mouse.” I growled at them. Something rattled in my chest. What is this foreboding feeling? Tears streamed down your face. I couldn’t help but press my forehead against yours. How can such an insignificant being be so cruel.

“Open your eyes, mouse! Let me see you!” Your eyelids fluttered open. What was this feeling clawing at me?

”I gave you the freedom to choose the only option you had left,” you sniffled. Who were you to decide on when we should part? I couldn't take this anymore.

“Ask for anything, mouse and I will bring you life.” I felt their heartbeat slow beneath my palm.

“You wouldn't want that Raphael. You only desire the truth.” You shook your head.

“What do you know of me! You know nothing.” I should stop this accursed thing’s beating. You winced at my words.

“Raphael? Did you enjoy our time together?” You asked tentatively. You won't slip away, mouse.

“Of course, why wouldn't I have?” No, I had not enjoyed any of this charade but yet I told you otherwise.

“Good, I am glad. I am sorry for the amount of heartache I will leave you with. There is a reason why mortals are an indulgence to your kind.” Your voice cracked. The water works started anew.

Don't you dare, mouse..

“We make seconds seem like lifetimes. We make life meaningful in the mundane. We leave our mark that would be remembered for a millennia if we're lucky,” you smiled.

Don't you dare keep speaking.

“You know mortals can be like devils?” Your breathing slowed to a crawl.

“Demand anything, mouse and you will have it.” You didn't listen to a word I said. 

“Mortals can be obsessive too, you know? I think there is something wrong with me that I spent the last four decades running from them. I think their name is Raphael.” I smothered you in my arms.

“Stop with your babbling!” You still continued on.

“He is there watching me wherever I go. You know I never had anyone that would go to such lengths to get my attention.” That wasn't true mouse, all of your companions fought desperately for your attention. I squeezed you closer to my chest.

“Maybe I am insane for trying to maintain the obsession of a devil but.. I have known humans who are more devilish than the one at my heels.” I couldn't help but chuckle.

“You are not insane but just a foolish mortal. You all are in the end.” I whisper in your ear. Why do you only speak your truths now? You pushed me to loosen our tight embrace. I could feel you slipping away. Your time is near.

“I cannot let you do this mouse. I am in control of your soul.” What a beautiful coin it would make for my collection. You are nothing but my possession! That is what you solely are.

“But you know I wouldn't be me left. Your obsession with me will end on this day.” You held my head in your worn palms.

“I will tell you the truth, you longed to hear.” Blood rushed to my eardrums. Was this truly what I yearned for? Was this the way I wished to earn your coin? Your fingers ran through my hair. You cleared your throat. Your eyes never wavered from mine.

“I like him too. But I'd never say it to his smarmy face,” you choked out. Stop! Just stop, mouse! With ferocity our lips danced for one last time. Why must death's kiss taste so bittersweet? Our tears intertwined. My hand raised to cradle your head.

“I will not let you get the best of me,” as I pecked away your tears. I felt your tiredness in my arms. Your head nestled into the crook of my neck.

“We can make more time,” I pleaded. How far have I fallen? What was this emptiness? Why did it have to take your end for you to confess, Tav? I stroke your hair while you let out the last of your cries till silence fell over you.

“This won't be the end.” Your body settles against my own.

“Say anything! Something you pipsqueak!” My voice no longer sounded like my own. What have you done to me? I placed one long hard kiss at your temple. Something shattered from deep within.

“How could you not desire to live?” I choked on my words. I felt a sheer coldness that ached from within you. Mortals won't survive if they are cool to the touch. You no longer fought when I pressed you to my chest till you could feel the beating of this infernal heart of mine. You needed to feel warm again. The fires have long since extinguished. Loud inhuman wails echo in these empty grand halls.

“You are mine! Now and forever. For all eternity, my precious little mouse.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Kinktober 24: Full - Nick Torres x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @whateversomethingbruh @district447 @lovebookheart @stelacole

Companion piece to:

Where Evil Grew - Nick has to tell you the bad news about your sister.

Grief - Nick tries to be there for you after the discovery of your sister's body.

Falling Apart (NSFW) - Nick turns up on your doorstep when his father disappears for a second time.

Acts of Service - Companion piece to Falling Apart (NSFW) - Nick turns up at your door after you suffer an injury.

What You Like (NSFW) - Nick remembers exactly what you like.

Red Rag - Sawyer finds away to piss off Nick.

Right Place, Right Time - Sequel to Red Rag - You tell Nick the truth about you and Sawyer.

Nick Torres has always been about making your dreams come true, even before the two of you got together. Now that you’re his, he dedicates himself to fulfilling every single one of those filthy fantasies you keep locked up inside that pretty little head of yours, especially the ones you’ve never told anybody else.

“You’re going shy on me.” He teases you one night.

You’re straddling his lap as he sits on sofa, the TV on in the background. His thumb chases over the line of your jaw as he looks up at you the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile.

“Go on tell me…”

“It’s so filthy Nick.” You whisper, your cheeks colouring. “Like we’ve done some dirty stuff together but this…”

“You know I’d give you anything.” He tells you, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. “Anything you damn well want.”

“Every hole.” You say finally, your forehead coming to rest upon his. “I want to be filled. Not with other people, just with you.”

“I can do that for you.” He murmurs, his mouth claiming yours. “This weekend we’re going to make that fantasy come true.”

On Saturday night, he turns off both of your phones, draws the curtains and shuts out the outside world. He pours you each a glass of wine before he starts his seduction because he want you relaxed, pliant. He takes his time undressing you, working you up until your dripping, desperate, needy and that’s when he brings out the toys.

The leather wrist and ankle restraints, the black butt plug with the glittering blue gem and the vibrator you tell him feels exactly like him when it’s inside you.

“You’re going to come with my cock in your mouth.” He tells you, slipping a pillow under your hips before he lubes up his fingers, using them to trace over your asshole. “But first I’m going to fill these pretty holes of yours.”

When he’s finished with you, you look like the perfect little gift, all trussed up for him to play with. His cock juts out from his body, precum leaking down the shaft as he watches you test your restraints. You’re lying on your stomach, your wrists bound behind your back, attached to your ankles, that gem shimmers from between your cheeks as he taps it once turning it on. A low groan escapes your lips as the vibration starts and his hand dips lower activating the vibrator. The noise you make, it almost makes him come right there and then.

“You still want this baby?” He asks you, his palm cupping your jaw. “Want me to fuck your mouth?”

“Please.” You whimper as his fingertips stroke over your cheek.

“Oh honey.” He sighs as he guides his cock into the confines of your mouth. “You always say please so nicely.”

Christ you feel good, you always do, no matter which hole he’s fucking. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding your head in place as he begins to thrust into that hot, wet cavern, taking his own pleasure as yours builds and builds, like a fire being stoked.

You’re getting close now, he can feel it in the way your mouth tightens around his dick, the thrum of your stifled moans as he picks up the pace. His palm slips down to the nape of your neck holding you flush against him, throat full of his cock. The ecstasy raises up inside of you like a tidal wave, stealing through your entire body as you cry out your rapture around his cock, tipping him over the edge. He pulses down your throat, thick white streaks flooding your mouth as he looks down at you with gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“That’s it baby.” He murmurs, pushing his come deeper. “Make sure you swallow every single drop.”

Love Nick? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lucid-romances]

Restraint

Stephen Strange x Magical! Reader

Word Count: 561

Warnings: NSFW - Praise kink, Dom! Stephen Strange, Slight pain kink, Reader Can't Control Their Powers.

It started as a slip of the tongue. 

Moans came easier than words. 

Stephen pressed her into the sheets of his four-poster bed, her hands pinned above her head to keep her from touching him.  Her fingertips digging into his skin had started to feel like electricity. On most occasions, he wouldn’t mind the pain, but it was distracting from the time of his thrusts, and he knew the ache in her palm would drown out her pleasure. He tries to ease it with his feverish touches as his free hand slides along the sticky skin of her stomach to massage her breast.  The attention elicits a rich moan from her, and Stephen does his best to stifle the noise with a sloppy kiss.  It’s all tongue and teeth, leaving no room for words as she shifted her leg. They’d parted to let him between them, but chasing her release, she hitched it over his hip instead.  

The change in angle turns a switch in her brain. Stephen was always in control in moments like this.  It allowed him to let out pent-up stress, and it allowed her to stop worrying. Except now, each time Stephen’s hips rolled against her own, the pleasure rushed through her like a wave. She pulls her head away from his own, taking a deep breath. Just as she’s about to speak, he bottoms out again, and all coherent thoughts cease. 

“Steph… Steph… Please…”

Her eyes have closed, and because she’s lost in the bliss building within her, she hardly noticed the broken way his name fell from her lips. However, Stephen couldn’t help dwelling on how innocent and desperate she’d made his name sound. To him, his sole purpose in those moments was not to love her but to worship her. 

He finally released her hands, but only to grasp her chin. His thumb grazes against her lip, dragging against it roughly, and he uses it as leverage to earn her gaze. “Darling,” he croons, his voice nothing better than a rutting groan.  “Look at me.” 

As if cursed with a spell of obedience, she does as she’s told.  Their gazes lock in a moment of breathless intensity.  She wants to whine, to beg, to become an inconsolable mess. Stephen can see it in her eyes, and it stokes a fire in him- rarely seen by anyone else.  He offers her a wolfish smile, full of pride for claiming her in such a way. 

Her compliance and blatant trust in him meant she was his. 

In Mind, Body, and Soul. 

Stephen’s thoughts cleared when he felt her start to tighten.  

Magic gathers around them like an inferno.  

He can feel the heat of her release, the building pop, before the magic begins to manifest at her fingertips. Her brows pinch, and she does her best to contain it. 

Stephen released her chin and slotted his hands within her own.  Their fingers intertwined, Stephen prepared himself to gather the ambient power. Their intimacy was a good lesson about maintaining control, forcing her to restrain herself. 

She couldn’t speak, move, or orgasm without his explicit instruction. 

Neither of them minded the power dynamic, as he’d finally give them what they wanted. 

“Good girl,” He consoled her as it all started to burst at once, the magic, the pleasure, and the welcomed pain. “Let go for me.”

[ghostofaboy]

Purpose

Summary: Marcus has a very specific desire, and Dave is only too happy to assist.

Pairing: Marcus Pike/Dave York Rating: Explicit | Word count: 789

Warnings: Anal sex, breeding kink, Dom/sub elements

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This was a request from @perotovar and @fluffygoffpanda as part of my 200 Follower Celebration, as their requests worked really well together. Divider by @saradika-graphics Little bit of a sequel to this and this.

Pulling his knees up closer to his chest, Marcus could feel Dave’s gaze on him. Those beautiful eyes were exploring his body, roaming over every inch, planning out exactly what he’d do to the exposed agent. Strong hands trailed over his flesh, thumbing over his nipples, sending shivers through Marcus’ body as goosebumps dance across his skin. As a callused finger circled his ready hole, Dave smirked.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Marcus gasped out, his cock twitching to his words, with small beads of precum flicking onto his stomach. “I’m ready.”

“I won’t go easy on you.”

“I don't want you to. I want you to fill me up. I want... I need you to breed me.”

A deep growl was the other man’s response as one of his large hands grabbed Marcus’ thigh while he lined up his thick length. As the sizeable head breached him, Marcus couldn’t stop himself from holding his breath. Despite receiving his lover’s cock many times, it somehow always caught him off guard with its girth. Although his body had long since adapted, the delicious stretch of the initial penetration was something Marcus hoped would never lose its thrill.

Once he was fully seated within Marcus, Dave paused to take in every expression and Marcus could see his eyes analyzing him and checking him. But he knew by now there was more to it than that. Dave cared. In his own way. What Marcus had first taken as cool detachment he now understood to be a self-imposed barrier. One that stop others getting too close while still allowing Dave to let small controlled amounts of love out.

As Dave began to slowly roll his hips, pumping his thick length deep into Marcus, the heady rush of arousal sent the younger agent’s thought back to their first encounter. There had been no names, just a quick fuck in a seedy motel and little chance of ever seeing each other again. But they had. Running into each other on a case of all things and after attempting to stay professional for a couple of day, they had tumbled into bed together.

The sounds of skin smacking against skin filled the room as Dave steadily increased his pace, driving his cock into Marcus’ hole. Each time Dave plunged into him, jolted Marcus slightly up the bed, stoking the fire inside him, and causing him to writhe and squirm. Shifting to lean down over Marcus, Dave spread the younger man’s legs wide, tucking each leg under his arms as he maintained his iron grip on Marcus’ thighs.

Pinching his eyes shut, Marcus could feel Dave’s balls slapping against him with every hungry thrust. He could smell the sex and sweat in the air, the thick musk permeating the room and his senses. His whole world was Dave inside him, stretching him, fucking him to the edge of his sanity and then bringing him back. 

Dave’s movements were frenzied now. Jackhammering into Marcus with abandon as the older man chased his finish, and with each powerful slam into him, Dave brought Marcus close to his own climax. Opening his eyes, Marcus was met with the slight of Dave’s eyes locked into him. They were filled with determination, lust, but also…

Dave came first, as he often did, letting out a low, throaty cry as he rocked into Marcus. As Dave leaned forward to rest his head on the younger man’s shoulder, Marcus couldn’t stop himself letting out a needy whine as he felt the hot seed flooding into him. This is what he wanted. What he needed. To feel and keep every drop of Dave’s cum inside him. What else was he for if he couldn’t do that?

Marcus could feel Dave trembling as he stilled, slowly leaning up to look at Marcus again. For a moment Marcus thought Dave would do what he always did and stay inside him, keep fucking him until he came. But instead, Dave began to carefully pull out, easing his cock out of Marcus’ gaping hole before quickly reaching for a plug. 

“You have a choice, Marcus.” Dave’s voice hitched slightly as his shaking hands gently nudged the plug into place, filling Marcus once more with the heavy silicone. “One, I can make you come now. Daddy will blow you baby and make you feel good. Or, two, you can wait like a good boy until I’m ready to go again and Daddy’ll fill you up even more.”

From his place on the bed, Marcus’ cock twitched at the choice. With his legs spread open for Dave and his chest heaving with each breath, he couldn’t help but grin. There was no choice at all, really. He knew exactly what he wanted. 

[ser-estinien]

The Faithful Work of Drowning

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Kurusu Akira & Persona 5 Protagonist's Parents Characters: Kurusu Akira, Persona 5 Protagonist's Parents, Akechi Goro, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Takamaki Ann Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Relationship Avoidance, dating but also definitely not dating, parental pressure, Strict Parents, controlling parents, Abusive Parents, disappointing your parents, Character Study, Suicidal Thoughts, Jealousy, dating women to placate your mother, Physical Abuse, Blood and Injury, violent imagery, injury descriptions, Arguments, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, But Akira is feeling some sort of way, Outing, homophobic parents, Persona 5 Protagonist Has Bad Parents, Drunkenness, kissing when you shouldn't, Slut Shaming, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent Summary:

Akira Kurusu is a good son with esteemed accomplishments under his belt, but they're never enough for his parents. Stuck between wanting his parents' approval and detesting it, he feels locked in a cycle of unhappiness, unable to pursue the things he really wants. Enter: Goro Akechi. After six years apart, seeing his former rival stokes a fire in Akira that he thought he let die out. The only problem? Akechi wants nothing to do with him. Despite that, something keeps drawing them back together. Unfortunately for Akira, Akechi has no interest in someone who's stagnant and dissatisfied in life. Will Akira chase the aspirations he thought were out of reach or will he crumble under the pressure of his parents and follow the path they've neatly placed before him?

[ebullientheart]

bulletproof vest. aaron hotchner x reader

content — hurt/comfort. fluff. fem!bau!reader. brief references to typical bau violence. marriage. requested by anon.

you have a nightmare that, for once, is unrelated to your line of work.

your jobs are quite literally nightmare material. arson, murder, and a volley of heinous crimes you spend days and nights peering into. it is entirely unsurprising these villains chase you into the realms of subconsciousness, living in your minds as payment for delving through theirs. almost poetic.

so later, when your adrenal gland gets itself under control, you’ll likely find it funny that your scare came from something objectively less terrifying than your daily life. but in the moment, it feels just as horrible as being hunted by an unsub, or being forced to shoot, or finding yourself utterly defenceless.

all the typical signs of an activated fight or flight invade your body as your eyes peel open. you force yourself to sit and push your pillow upright against the headboard, swiping your damp palms over the sheets and trying to calm your heart. you think its intense pounding is probably what wakes aaron, whose head is right by your chest.

he rasps your name, momentarily confused at your shift in position. he reaches for your bare arm and you resist the urge to shrug him off in your paranoid state. it doesn’t take long for him to work out what’s got you trembling, too familiar with them himself.

“nightmare?” at any other time, you’d be entranced by his rough cut morning voice.

you shrug, whispering back as you’re conscious of jack asleep just down the hall, “i’m alright, babe, go back to sleep.”

with a quiet groan as he stretches his limbs out to sit also, he brings a warm hand to your shoulder blades. it’s firm and consistent, a presence you crave.

“you can’t lie to your husband.” he smiles, trying his best to remind you that he’s not just a fleeting comfort.

you scoff, trying your best to sound braver than you feel, “yeah, cos he’s a profiler.”

“a profiler in love with you,” he affirms, “talk to me, honey. was it foyet? the silencer? piano man?”

your laugh is watery as he lists off evils from your real world. you shake your head, covering his free hand with your own to politely cut him off.

“s’none of them. just a nightmare.”

aaron smiles fondly, “yeah?”

“yeah.”

he’s almost incredulous as he muses, “i didn’t know we could get those anymore.”

again, you laugh, and pride blooms in his chest. he’s not exactly known for his humour, and it stokes something nice in him that he can elicit that chuckle from you, even through your tears. still, he notes the self-deprecating undertone to the sound, and moves to pull you further into him.

“don’t be embarrassed.”

you nudge him, “stop that, we’re not supposed to profile each other.”

“i can’t help it, i know you too well.”

shuddering lightly at the memory of your cold fear, you concede, “there are worse things.”

he agrees and locks you to his front as he eases both of you back down to the mattress, not bothering to fix your pillow as you lay across him like a bulletproof vest. that’s how aaron makes you feel in moments like these; bulletproof.

[tj-dragonblade]

popping my head in to ask about Mer Hob 👀 from the WIP title ask game

Finally popping my head back up to answer, my apologies for the wait! Mer-Hob came out of server conversations about mer-Dreamling fish assignments and aquatic mating displays, but he kind of fizzled out with the scene I tried to write. Dusting him off for this, though, I think I can breathe the spark back into it. Take it past where I meant to before, so it will have a more satisfactory conclusion. I have scrapped the lackluster 'how did they meet' that was stalling me out and given them new backstory and now I'm unsure how exactly I want to structure this. Start where I've started and then jump back to the meeting, then bring them back to the present? Make the backstory a separate fic? Rearrange the whole thing chronologically, which would require a lot of rework and shortening of the current opening bit? IDK but I'll figure it out. In the meantime, here is a chunky chunk of drafting for their meet-cute (sfw but cut for length):

Dream is not surprised to find a waterline-level cave out on the rock formation in the bay, on the side not visible from shore. Nor is he overly surprised to find someone stretched out in the handsbreadth of water covering the floor with their eyes closed, as the morning light fills the first several feet of the cave brightly in a way that is conducive to sunbathing.

The fact that the sunbather has a bright orange tail with brilliant yellow fins and blue-black leopard-like spots is rather less expected, however, and Dream gasps his surprise.

The sound startles the man—the merman—surely not?—who sits bolt upright, eyes wide and panicking as he locks gazes with Dream not an arm's length away.

Dream's heart skips a beat. He's beautiful—

"Oh, fuck!" The merman—there is no other explanation, no mistaking the flurry of fins and scales as he moves—the merman twists and flops and dives past Dream, a less-than-graceful plunge off the rock and into the sea and then he is gone.

"Wait!" Dream cries, to the bright flick of yellow vanishing into the depths, but of course it is no use.

He could swim back to the boat, could don his diving gear and follow—but no. The merman is already gone, and will be more so by the time Dream could be equipped to give chase.

He swallows back his disappointment, his disbelief, and tells himself resolutely that he surely imagined the entire thing.

But he did not imagine it, he knows this; the knowledge lodges in his mind, burrows down into his consciousness and curls around his common sense, stokes his curiosity.

He saw a merman.

Merpeople do not exist.

But he saw one.

He returns the next day, hoping perhaps to repeat the discovery, but he is the only visitor to the cave in the hours that he spends there. When the tide has gone out and come back in, high enough once more to cover the floor of the cave, when he has spent all day waiting with nothing to show for it, he admits defeat and swims back to his boat.

He returns again, and again, later each day with the drift of the tide, diving to explore beneath the surface when the cave remains empty. He finds nothing of note, nothing to hint at the existence of merfolk, nothing at all out of the ordinary; by day six, he is trying to convince himself to make peace with the likelihood that he will never find any trace of the merman he knows he had seen.

On day seven, the merman is back, sunbathing at the front of the cave again.

Only this time, he has human legs, is wearing swim trunks, is sitting further away from where Dream is treading water, stunned.

"…Hello," Dream manages.

"Hi," the man says, warmly polite. He is cross-legged with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them, one hand holding the other wrist; he is meant to look casual and relaxed, Dream is certain, but the tension and the nervousness coming off of him are palpable.

He is still beautiful.

"You're. I saw you here, before?" His thoughts are still trying to catch up; he hoists himself into the cave, doesn't move closer.

The man's shoulders drop a tiny fraction. "Yeah, yep! Startled me good, you did!" He chuckles lightly, a carefree and casual sound; the fingers of his dangling hand wriggle, a nervous and distracted sort of gesture that draws Dream's attention to the profusion of hair on his bare legs, and arms, and what Dream can see of his chest.

"You had a. A tail, last time," Dream says, somewhat awkwardly, tearing his gaze from the sprinkling of hair on the man's bare toes.

"Oh, that, yes!" The man grins, bright and disarming. "I'm a mermaid performer, with the, ah, the local carnival."

Dream is convinced this is a lie even as the logical part of his brain points out that this explanation makes far more sense than believing in merfolk. He knows what he saw, the flexing of muscle and the fanning of fins, the bending and twisting that did not match up to the way that human legs would move in that configuration. The merman speaks with casual confidence, but the tension in his frame and the nervous fidget of his clasped hand are easy to read.

"…No, I don't think you are," Dream says, and the man's bright smile dips before returning to full wattage.

"Calling me a liar, are you?" He laughs, a light and enchanting sound that Dream immediately wants to hear more of. "Merfolk, they don't actually exist, I'll have you know."

~ The wip tag has a tiiiny bit more of this one, also.

[chimindity]

Online boyfriend

Summary | Chase catches his sister sneaking out and confronts her when she gets back. Request by @mirellef2001

Pairing | Chase Stokes & sister!reader

Warning | Chase being a protective brother, angst?

A/N | why are the pictures big like that? I wrote the plot like this!! (Cause this could be dangerous to meet people you don't know very much, and I wanted to write Chase as a protective brother!)

⸝⸝⸝ ꒰ ❣ . 　⁺ 　 . ❣ . 　⁺ 　 . ❣ ꒱ ⸝⸝⸝

The moment your mom tells you that you're all going to Washington, you couldn't be happier. This is where your online boyfriend lives. Even though you've only known him for three months, you've become attached to him. Tonight, as soon as your parents and brother go to sleep, you have an idea about sneaking out to finally meet your boyfriend for the very first time.

You quickly pull a baggy shirt to cover your short dress, the one you've planned to wear when you meet your boyfriend, you jump as you hear Chase's voice calling out your name and opening the door. -"Fu— Chase! Please knock before coming into my room, that's what locks are for," you sigh, sitting down at the edge of the bed, trying to act as natural as possible.

-"Why would you lock your door? Anyway, mom and dad are going to sleep, and so am I, so please don't make too much noise," he holds the doorknob as he speaks, analyzing your room, expecting to find something abnormal for the reason you are acting a bit different, you simply nod and give him a warm smile as he closes the door.

You make sure he's really gone before you start pulling your sweater over your shoulders and tugging down your dress as it's ridden up with the sweater. You stumble your way to the window and slowly open it as silently as possible, closing your eyes every time the window makes a noise, hoping your brother won't wake up.

You climb out of the window and carefully land on the ground, not even thinking twice about whether it's a good idea or not. You couldn't wait to finally meet your boyfriend that you didn't even realize you forgot to turn off the light in your room. You start running to the park where he has told you to meet him there.

The more you walk into the park, the more you get scared. After all, he's just someone you've met on the internet. You keep looking over your shoulders every now and then, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress as you hear footsteps coming toward you. You call out your boyfriend's name.

When all of sudden, Chase shows up out of nowhere, you recognize your pink phone case in his hand and realise that you have left your phone on your bed, -"Chase!" You yell, as if he were the one in the wrong, he didn't say a word but grabs your arm -"no, I'm the one who should be talking" he turns on your phone, then he brings it infront of you.

-'I can't meet you, I'm sorry we need to break up'

You don't remember sending this message, and it finally tilts in your mind. You glance up at Chase as soon as he tucks your phone back in his pocket. -"Don't you realize how dangerous it could have been? Are you even thinking straight? Meeting someone you met online in the night?" He looks down at you, his firm tone causing your eyes to well up with tears.

You yank his wrist off your upper arm and turn to face the tree beside you. "I can't believe you went through my phone! I loved him, Chase!" you sob, fists clenching around your dress. "I don't even want to hear you throw a tantrum. Get back here, and let's go home," he rolls his eyes and lifts you up over his shoulder.

You squirm in his grip, feeling betrayed by your own brother, not even realizing he might have saved your life. -"You're lucky I didn't tell mom and dad," he spits. He gently guides you through the window before climbing in as well. You sit on your bed, smudged mascara around your eyes as you sheepishly look at your brother.

-"May I know what's that look for?" He asks, looking for one of your pajamas, you roll your eyes as you try to reach your phone in his pocket before getting your hand yanked away. -"Don't even think about it," he holds your wrist and hands you a set of pajamas instead.

He walks out of your room and looks at you. -"Go to sleep, or I'll tell on you to mom and dad," he speaks before closing the door, leaving you alone in the dark as you change into your pajamas.

Taglist

@mirellef2001 @nemesyaaa @jjsfavgirl @marvelfanfics1 @flora-eva @mrvlxgrl @wearemadeofstardust0 @ziggyfaremen