#dirty martini running club

[maddiesflame]

Faking Ms. Right headers

like/reblog if saved © maddiesflame

[bookishwum]

He turned back, meeting my gaze, a disarming openness in his eyes. Right there, in that exact moment, I did a terrible, terrible thing.

I fell in love with my boss.

— Faking Ms. Right, Claire Kingsley

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[greengoblinswifey]

Or Nah— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you meet nicholas at the club and he invites you back to his place where he fucks you on every surface. based on this request.

warnings— rough smut, grinding, voyeurism, fingering, choking, oral(m&f receiving), praise kink, lots of dirty talk, unprotected sex, ass slapping, hair pulling, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare.

word count— 4.8k

a/n— i really enjoyed writing this one🤭reblogs are appreciated <3

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The club was alive with energy as the bass of the music pulsed through your body, vibrating in your chest. You leaned against the bar, swirling your vodka martini in your hand, enjoying the tangy taste and the vibrant atmosphere. Your homegirls were off somewhere dancing, surrounded by guys, lost in their own world. But you? You were fine with being on your own, letting the music take over and just vibing.

Then, the intro to “Or Nah” started playing. You squealed, feeling the excitement rush through you. “This is my song!” you shouted, laughing, and within seconds, the entire crowd, including your friends, moved toward the dance floor. You took one last sip of your martini before strutting toward the crowd, hips swaying with the beat, your body flowing effortlessly to the rhythm of the song.

Your homegirls were hyping you up, shouting, “Yes, bitch!” as you danced, your hands running over your body, your skin glowing under the club lights. You felt unstoppable, confident in your own skin, the music making everything feel like it was just you, the beat, and the crowd.

Then, you felt it. A presence. A tall, muscular figure behind you. You didn’t need to look to know he was fine—his energy was undeniable. He leaned down toward your ear, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Can I dance with you, beautiful?”

A sly smile spreading across your face. “Of course,” you replied, your voice playful but full of confidence.

The mystery man placed his hands on your waist, his fingers warm against your skin, and you felt an immediate connection. His touch was firm but not aggressive, and as he pulled you closer, the two of you swayed in sync with the music. You could feel his body against yours, his chest broad and firm, his movements smooth as he mirrored your rhythm.

Your favorite part kicked in, “Do you like the way I flick my tongue or nah? (Or nah) You can ride my face until you're drippin' cum (Drippin' cum),” and you couldn’t help but get into it even more, your hips moving fluidly, grinding against him as he matched every shift. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, the contact sparking something between you that made your heart race.

“Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he whispered against your ear, his breath against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t suppress the small, breathy laugh that escaped your lips, feeling the tension build between you both.

You turned in his arms to face him, locking eyes, and he smirked. “Hey, I’m Nicholas,” he said, his smile playful yet sincere.

You raised an eyebrow, recognizing him instantly, but you kept your cool. “I’m Y/N and I know who you are,” you replied with a confident smirk, giving him an unamused but impressed look that made him laugh.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he said, his voice filled with admiration, and for a second, you saw a hint of something in his eyes—desire, maybe?

“Thanks,” you replied, your tone teasing, “I know.” You leaned in closer, just enough for him to hear, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You’re fine as hell.”

He chuckled, his cheeks slightly flushed, and for the first time, you saw him flustered. You pulled him closer, your bodies pressed against each other as you danced, the music setting the tone for the moment. As the next verse played, “You gon’ make me fall in love,” you could feel his hands sliding lower, his touch almost possessive, but still respectful, his fingertips skimming the curve of your waist and hips.

The music slowed a bit, snapping you both out of your trance. He gave you one last look, his lips curving into a smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful grin. “Only if you’re covering the tab for me and my girls.”

He laughed, nodding. “You got it.”

You moved with him toward the bar, his hand guiding you, and your homegirls flashing you a wink as you passed by. As he paid the tab, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him. His muscles were even more defined up close, his shirt hugging his broad shoulders, and the gleam of his Rolex catching the light made you realize this man wasn’t just good-looking, he was cashy, too. You caught him staring at you, his eyes roaming over your dark skin, glowing in the club’s lights, and the black liner around your lips that contrasted beautifully with your glossy lipgloss.

Nicholas’ voice pulled you from your thoughts. “I don’t usually pick women up at clubs,” he said, a little hesitant, “but you’ve caught my eye from the moment you walked in. You’re gorgeous.”

You felt your heart race at his words, but you kept your composure. “Thanks,” you replied, your eyes narrowing playfully, “I know.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you, his eyes dark with interest. Then, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to come back to my place with me?” he asked, his tone serious but laced with the kind of quiet confidence that sent your pulse skyrocketing.

You gave him a slow, seductive look, letting your eyes linger on his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Sure,” you said, your voice low, sending a little shiver of excitement through him. He coughed lightly, clearly trying to hide the effect you were having on him.

You turned to your friends, who were already squealing. “I’m gonna leave with his fine ass,” you said, and they erupted into laughter, shouting playful encouragements. “Go get that dick, girl! Have fun, but call us if nothin’ happens!” one of them called out.

Nicholas placed his hand on your waist as he led you through the crowd. People parted for him as you both made your way outside, and when you reached the curb, a sleek black car with a driver waiting was parked. Nicholas opened the door for you, and you slipped into the back, the cool leather seat against your skin.

The moment you were inside, the air between you thickened. You both sat there for a moment, staring at each other, the tension almost unbearable. Then, without warning, you were on him, your lips crashing together as you kissed him passionately, the heat between you building with every second. His hands moved to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips demanding as yours responded with equal hunger.

He moaned softly into your lips as you pulled yourself to straddle him, your mini skirt riding up as you sat on his bulge. There was nothing separating you but your g-string and his pants, you could feel how hard he was and how he twitched in excitement.

You could feel the warmth of his chest beneath you, the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His hands slid down your sides, resting on your waist before shifting lower, resting just on the curve of your hips.

The car was moving through the city, the sound of the engine humming beneath the occasional soft moan that slipped from your lips. But neither of you cared that the driver was up front, minding his own business. The only thing that mattered was the way your bodies were responding to one another.

Nicholas leaned back, eyes locked on you as you shifted, grinding ever so slightly against him. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he pulled you in again, kissing you hungrily. “You’re fucking unreal,” he muttered against your lips, his hands running up your back, sending chills down your spine.

You could feel his heartbeat racing beneath his chest, and the way his body tensed when your hands traced down to his abdomen, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles through the fabric.

Nicholas paused, his hands gently cupping your face as he took a breath, his forehead resting against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky, unsure but wanting. The moment was everything, and you could feel how much he wanted you, but still, he you needed to be certain.

Without hesitation, you gave him a mischievous smile, “Yes,” you whispered back, leaning in to kiss him once more.

He groaned into the kiss, a sound that sent a ripple of excitement through you. Slowly, his hands slid down to your waist, tugging at the hem of your denim mini skirt, pushing it up just slightly.

He looked at you, waiting, his voice softer this time. “Can I touch you?”

You locked eyes with him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you moved his hand to your waist. “Please do,” you murmured.

At your approval, he shifted your underwear and slowly rubbed your clit. “God, you’re so wet, how the fuck can someone be this wet?” he asked softly.

You chuckled, bucking your hips into his hand, “Guess I’m just really turned on by you and knowing someone else is aware of what you’re doing to me.”

In response, he slipped a finger inside you, curling it as another rubbed your clit. The pleasure hit you like a truck and you involuntarily let out a loud whimper.

But then, you heard a soft cough from the front seat—the driver had cleared his throat, perhaps more out of politeness than anything else. Nicholas chuckled lightly against your neck, his lips brushing your skin and rubbing your clit as you both laughed breathlessly at the situation.

“Just pay attention to me baby, feel how good my fingers make you feel,” he whispered.

You moaned in response, completely at his mercy as he finger fucked you while his driver drove you back to his place.

The car jolted slightly as it made a turn, the shift in motion causing a small sound to escape your lips. Nicholas' other hand moved around your neck, his touch deliberate as he slipped another finger inside your wet pussy, feeling the warmth inside you.

You were trying to keep your composure, but the way he touched you was like nothing else, and you could feel your body responding, your heart racing as his fingers moved faster.

He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a smirk on his lips. “You’re gonna cum already beautiful?” he whispered. “Are you that turned on I’m fingering you in the back of my car while my driver is in the front? Fuck, you’re everything I could ever want.”

You grinned back at him and nodded, feeling that sense of power, knowing how much he wanted you. He leaned forward, kissing you as his fingers worked inside you, the squelching noises your pussy made mixing with the sound of the engine.

“Holy shit, you’re soaking my fingers baby. Cum for me, be my good girl and cum all over my fingers,” he demanded, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

Grabbing his biceps, you did your best to contain your moans but your efforts proved futile as you came all over his fingers, your body convulsing on top of him.

“Good girl, you made me so proud baby, so obedient,” he muttered, kissing your neck.

He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them off and moaning around them. “Fuck, everything about you is perfect, even the way you taste.”

“And I wanna see if you taste as good as you look,” you smirked.

The car finally pulled up to Nicholas’ mansion, the gates creaking open as the vehicle glided through. You couldn’t help but admire the sprawling estate, the lights from the driveway glimmering against the night sky.

His driver opened the door for you, and you both exchanged an awkward smile. Nicholas fumbled with the keys to the mansion, clearly eager to get inside and you leaned over, brushing your lips against his neck, sending a shiver through him. His eyes darkened with desire as you made a teasing move, running your hand along the outline of his bulge, making him moan softly.

Once inside, he wasted no time, pushing you against the door with a heated kiss. His hands were everywhere, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. You returned the kiss with the same intensity, then pushed him back against the door.

Your warm hands glided down his chest before you slowly slid to your knees in front of him. His breath hitched as you looked up at him, eyes filled with lust. He froze for a moment, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hushed, unsure but clearly wanting this as much as you did.

You nodded, not caring about the cold marble beneath you. All that mattered was the moment, the confidence that ran through your veins when you were close to him. You reached for his belt, loosening it with practiced ease, and slowly slid his pants down, revealing his hard cock.

He gasped, his gaze locked on you, as he stepped out of his pants. You could feel his eyes on you as your fingers brushed over him in all his glory, and his breath caught when you made contact. He was hard, long and full of girth, feeling weighty in your hand. The tip was pretty, pink and leaking, pre cum oozing and slowly dripping down his shaft. As you looked up at him through your lashes, you could tell by the look in his eyes how badly he wanted this, and that only made you want him more.

Slowly, you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it so he could feel everything.

“Your hands are so soft,” he whispered, and you smirked up at him, feeling a thrill run through you.

You didn’t need to say anything in response. Instead, you closed the space between you, trailing your lips along the side of his cock, before meeting his eyes one more time. His chest was rising and falling with every breath he took, and you could tell he was trying to hold back from losing control.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Everything about you is perfect.”

As you took him into your mouth, each motion drew out quiet sounds from him. You took him deeper and deeper, swirling your tongue as you did and using your hands to rub his bare thighs then to caress his balls.

“Holy shit, you’re amazing,” he said, breathily.

His praises made your pussy throb and you started deep throating him, making sure to use as much tongue as you could to make it sloppy just the way you presumed he’d like it. You couldn’t have Nicholas Chavez saying you gave bad head.

“Oh fuck baby, if you keep taking me like that m’ gonna cum, you’re so good at this.”

You moaned around his cock, then took it out of your mouth to spit on it. Sticking your tongue out, you looked up at him as you slapped his cock against it and he moaned in response, his head tipping back.

He gently placed a hand on your head and you took him back into your throat, bobbing your head as your salvia and his pre cum dripped down your chin. You were a sight for sore eyes and he was ready to see you swallow his cum.

“H-holy fucking shit baby, I’m gonna cum down that throat,” he moaned, his voice breaking.

You took him as deep as you could, then gliding your mouth and your tongue across his shaft as you felt his warm cum shoot down your throat. You swallowed every drop, his cum better than any martini you drank that night.

“You’re so fucking hot, let me eat your pussy on my kitchen counter,” he panted.

You were down for anything and you allowed him to take your hand, leading you to the large kitchen with a marble island in the middle. He lifted you up with ease, pulling down your clothes and then your top over your head. You took the opportunity to kick off your heels.

“Fucking stunning,” he whispered, kissing your abdomen.

He continued, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.

“You’re soaked baby, so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, the feeling of his warm mouth on your pussy a stark contrast to your bare ass against the cool marble. You couldn’t believe he was letting you defile his beautiful kitchen like this.

“Your moans are so sweet baby, you like the way I flick my tongue?” he laughed and you chuckled as he quoted the lyrics from earlier.

He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn’t believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared his neighbors would hear.

“Fuck, you make me feel so good,” you cried. grabbing his hair.

“Mm— I aim to please,” he muttered into your pussy.

His tongue was practically inside you, tonguing you and moving back up to suck on your clit. As his movements grew, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.

“Cum on my tongue beautiful, I need to swallow every drop.” A loud gasp left your lips and your body lifted from the surface, as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like you were his last meal—ironic considering you were in his kitchen and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, holy fuck, you taste amazing,” he panted.

You pulled him up into a kiss, his face mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your full breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers tangled in his hair then he pulled back to rip off his shirt.

Nicholas’ body was everything you’d expect. As he took off his shirt, his broad shoulders and chest came into view, perfectly sculpted with a defined, chiseled look. His biceps bulged with each movement, showing the results of countless hours lifting. His abs were sharply outlined, a series of well-formed ridges that tapered down to his waist, making his physique look even more impressive. His skin glistened in the light, showcasing the muscles that seemed to flex with every breath he took. The veins running down his arms and across his chest hinted at the strength and power he held, adding to his overall imposing yet enticing presence. Everything about him was carved to perfection. You needed this man, and you needed him now. You needed him to take you on every surface in his house and you weren’t afraid to admit it.

“I need you to fuck me all over your house, starting right here, God, you are so hot,” you breathed in awe.

He grinned, he loved the sound of that and he loved a woman that knew what she wanted.

Swiftly, he sank into you, but halted, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to his size.

“Shit,” you moaned, as he took your breath away, “you’re so fucking big.”

“I know baby, it’s okay, I’ll go easy on you,” he whispered, reaching down to rub your clit to ease the tension.

“Easy on me? Nah, I want that dick fucking me hard,” you retorted.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re my dream woman,” he gasped.

Your wish was his command as he slammed into you, burying his cock to the hilt. Your moans filled the kitchen as he began moving with a pace that had your toes curling and your acrylics digging into his muscular back.

“Oh my God, Nick,” you moaned.

“I know baby, I’m the one making you feel this good, no other man can be this deep inside you,” he murmured.

You nodded breathlessly, with the way he was pounding into you, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock. You could feel him deep inside your cervix and as you looked down, you saw the faint outline of his cock moving inside you. His large hand snaked around your neck as your foreheads touched, small trickles of sweat mingling. He worked his hips into you, your mouth in an ‘O’ as you breathlessly moaned with him slamming into you.

“You feel fucking amazing, best pussy I’ve ever had,” he panted.

You cried out in response and he pulled out his cock, slapping the heavy tip on your clit making you jolt. As soon as it made contact with your clit, you squirted, your juices spurting all over his cock and abdomen.

“That’s it, squirt all over me baby,” he smirked, still slapping himself against you.

He reached down, sucking and slurping as your pussy quivered under his touch.

All you could do was moan in response, this man was incredible. There was no way you would let another woman have him after tonight.

“Fuck me on your couch next,” you demanded, boldly.

He paused with a smirk on his face and for a minute, you thought he would reject the offer, not wanting to defile his very expensive white sofa sitting in his living room. The same one his family probably sat on when they came to visit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as he scooped you up by your ass, making you wrap your legs around him. He carried you effortlessly to the couch, flipping you into your stomach. His large hand came down on your ass and you squealed, taking it as a signal to arch your back.

“Exactly what I want baby, it’s like you were made for me, fuck,” he praised.

You truly believed he was made for you too.

He sank into you from behind, slapping your ass as he did.

“Oh my God,” he moaned, leaning down to kiss your back, “you should see how good you look fucking gripping my dick.”

His hips snapped against your ass, pounding you as you did your best to fuck him back.

“Oh? That’s what we’re doing? My girl’s fucking me back? Alright, I can work with that,” he panted, speeding up his pace.

Hearing him call you his girl made something awaken in you. You whimpered loudly and did your best to please him, slamming your ass back against him, his cock brushing that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Can I pull your hair, beautiful?” he asked, his pace not faltering.

“Mhmm,” you answered, lost in pleasure. Usually you’d never let a man pull your hair but Nicholas just had that effect on you.

He gripped your braids in the ponytail they were in, using it as an anchor to slam into you faster and harder. Soon, the scrunchie fell out and he scooped your braids in his hand, still pounding into you.

“Holy fuck, you’re clenching around me so tight, cum on my dick,” he moaned.

You buried your face into a cushion, crying out as you shuddered and squirted around him, your arousal dripping down to his beautiful white couch.

“Shit,” you panted, “sorry about your couch.”

“That’s the least princess,” he replied, “bedroom next?”

You nodded and lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his firm torso, your lips locking in a messy kiss as he stumbled with you to his bedroom upstairs. You were grinding on his cock and he could barely make it to his bedroom before he pushed you up against the top of the stairs, making your upper body hang over.

But you weren’t scared. You were in Nicholas’ strong arms, and whatever deep subconscious worry of falling over had disappeared as his cock slipped inside your dripping pussy. He began fucking into you, holding your body tight against him as you jolted over the stairs.

“Fucking hell, this is so hot,” he panted, leaning down to suck on your nipples.

“You fuck me so good,” you moaned.

He chuckled, his pace speeding up and soon, he recognized the unmistakable feeling of your walls clamping around him.

“You’ve cum so much for me tonight baby, give me another, c’mon you can do it,” he urged.

You were determined to give him anything he wanted and you leaned up, no longer hanging over the stairs, to wrap your arms around him as yet another orgasm ripped through you like a knife.

“Good girl, who’s my good girl?” he cooed.

“I am,” you answered, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He finally took you up to his bedroom, your body trembling in his arms and his cock still deep inside you.

He sat with you on the bed, a wince escaping your lips as you were impaled on his cock.

“I know you’re tired baby, I’ve made you cum five fucking times,” he said, you couldn’t believe he’d made you cum that many times, you weren’t sure you had another left in you, “but I need you to do it one more time for me while I cum inside you.”

“T-too much,” you whined, your body overstimulated and exhausted from it all.

“C’mon baby, don’t you wanna be my good girl? I know you’ve got one more in you, ride my cock and make me proud,” he urged.

If it was one thing you wanted, it was to make Nicholas proud and you lifted your head from his neck, planting a kiss on his lips as a promise to fulfill his wishes.

He leaned against the headboard, bucking his hips as you began bouncing on his cock.

“There she is, ride your cock,” he moaned.

Hearing him refer to himself as yours had you feeling something you’d never felt before. In response, you lifted your hips higher, slamming yourself down on him so he could feel how deep he was inside you. He let out a breathy moan, clutching the sheets below as his eyes averted from your boobs bouncing to his dick disappearing inside your pussy.

“You’re a fucking vixen, so goddamn beautiful,” he moaned.

His praises only encouraged you further and you began grinding on him, giving your clit the friction it needed and making his cock feel all of your insides.

“You like how I ride your dick baby?” you asked, your pussy grinding on him just the way your ass did in the club earlier.

“I fucking love it beautiful, oh shit, keep doing that, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he murmured.

Ever so obedient, you ground yourself on his dick, groping your boobs and tipping your head back, giving him a show.

“I— I’m gonna— I’m gonna fucking cum baby!” he cried.

“Give me everything, cum inside me,” you moaned.

Your body shook on top of him as you creamed and he let out the sweetest moans you’d ever heard. He gripped onto you as though you were his anchor, ropes and ropes of his warm cum spurting deep inside you. If you thought his cock filled you up, his cum was the cherry on top, filling you to the brim like you were nothing but his breeding slut.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, shivering under you, somehow still coming, “it’s so much, fuck.”

Your body finally gave out and you collapsed on top of him, exhausted and overstimulated, the slightest brush against your pussy making you wince. He finally pulled out and you squeezed your eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of his cum oozing out of you and pooling onto his sheets.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him and your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom. He ran a warm bath, sitting on a stool with you in his arms.

“Don’t fall asleep beautiful, I’m running you a bath. You must be exhausted,” he said, kissing your forehead, “you did amazing.”

Gently, he placed you in the bath then sat behind you, using a wash cloth to clean you up and then himself, peppering kissed as he did.

“You’re out of this world, so so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you, you’re so sweet,” you replied, feeling a tad bit shy under his praises.

As soon as you were finished, he dried himself off then did the same for you, wrapping you in a towel and carrying you to another room with clean sheets. He laid you gently on the bed and snuggled beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Everything about you is perfect, God, I want this everyday with you,” you heard him say as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[jarofstyles]

Can you write something about love bites pretty pleaseeeeee like Harry’s obsessed with giving them

Yes 🤭🤭🤭🤭 here is a tiny one!

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- kinda dirty hehe

——

“So pretty.” Fingers brushed over her sensitive skin as she looked in the mirror, trying her best to ignore how the sensation wanted to make her shiver. The large form behind her wasn’t helping her achieve that at all. “You look so gorgeous tonight but… my favorite are these.” The marks on the curve of her neck that he’d sucked into pretty bruises, blooming purple.

It was no secret between them that Harry quite liked the marks on her, but he liked putting them there the most. “Thank you.” She laughed through her nose, blending the makeup on her cheeks before setting the little sponge down. “But you’re very distracting, you know that? How am I supposed to cover them if you’re petting all over them?”

“Don’t!” The whine was nearly comical as she caught his scowl in the mirror. “Don’t cover up the art, precious. Leave ‘em there.” It was a travesty, in his opinion, any time they were covered with makeup. Even if she was quite talented at the magic of making them disappear, he didn’t appreciate his little marks of love being covered up. “S’not like we’re going to the Louvre- which, they’d probably appreciate the art anyways. We’re goin’ for drinks at a dingy club to buy overpriced martinis while we chat shit while I wait for you t’get tired enough for me to bring home and love on you.”

Harry was many things. Blunt was one of them.

“Tell me how you really feel, H.” She snorted, putting powder under her eyes. Her hand stuttered though, when she felt him tuck his face into her neck and a wet, hot swipe licked over the marks. It was a bit pathetic how quickly she felt lax, like a dog rolling over for belly rubs, but she gave a shaky exhale as his teeth found a new patch of skin to nibble on.

“I feel like… you should leave those marks so people know t’fuck off, that you get fucked well, that you’re mine. Let their imaginations run wild about how I gave ‘em to you balls deep, or if I did them just like this. As long as they know that you’re a loved and taken woman, m’a happy man.” The grumbles against her skin were finished with another bite, eliciting a noise blooming from her throat.

It was hard to say no to the man in most capacities, with his soft green eyes and his strawberry pout, but when he ran his hands over the front of her dress and his tongue over her throat as he found a new patch to work on, sucking harshly enough to make her knees weaken and her clit throb between her legs? It was impossible. “Harry…” the sigh of his name was accompanied by the lull of her head back against his shoulders, letting him slip his hands under the front of her dress and the makeup brush fall into the sink.

“Lucky we’re even goin’ out when all I want to do is worship that sweet cunt all night. But I’ll be good, I’ll let you get finished with your makeup and all that if you leave ‘em be. Show ‘em off for me. Please?” The plead was melted into her bones, breathing picking up as his fingers cupped over her lace covered cunt, holding it firmly. The man knew how to get his way and this was a solid example. The sweet and silly vibe of the room transforming into the hot and sensual teasing one that he had mastered the art of. “I’ll let you choose whatever you want me t’do to you tonight. Whatever my girl wants. Jus’ let me give you another one and leave my art alone. Everyone should be able to see it.”

How could she say no to that?

[gluion]

pretty please — jacob bae

pairing — jacob bae x fem!reader genre — strangers to lovers, suggestive (minors dni) wc — 1.5k insipired by — bed chem by sabrina carpenter // pretty please by dua lipa misc/warnings — alcohol consumption, sexual tension, pet names (good girl), reader wears makeup, grinding in a public place... ehem..., dirty talk, making out, hickeys note — badcob... save me, badcob... gluion deobi writer renaissance for badcob and we have to thank @kimsohn for requesting :p thank u for letting me remember why i love writing for tbz, esp jacob <3

synopsis — you make every possible excuse in the book to explain your tinder match’s tardiness. yet, you find yourself meeting a man who screams of innocence—until you find yourself at his mercy.

you think someone’s watching you.

at first, it came in the form of an itch you can’t reach until it morphed into a chill running down your spine. one look back, no one behind you. another look back, only a couple who wanted to grab a drink from the bartender.

you’d like to think it could be someone you were in the same organization with, maybe even someone you shared a class with, but you were far from the clubs that your university would infiltrate. you were somewhere entirely new, filled with employed folks, for a tinder match.

a first date in a bar isn’t one you would agree to, really, but you couldn’t deny the man with the cat eyes. after all, you still couldn’t believe he matched with you. the last thing you wanted is to shut the connection down.

but it’s been a good two hours since the agreed meet-up time, at least four glasses of margaritas in your system, and there was no sight of him. 

you should wait. what if he was dealing with some motorcycle issues? did his cat need to be brought to the clinic for an emergency? every excuse possible and you’ll accept it. 

a chill runs down your spine.

your eyes dart everywhere, hoping to spot your tinder match you’ve been waiting for—until they meet wide, brown ones.

across the bar stands a man dressed in a grey tank top with a black jacket over. surrounded by a group of boys who break into laughter, he pays no attention to their conversation. it’s only when he takes a sip from his drink that brings you to look away.

your skin grows hot; the only solution you have is to drink some more. 

you’ve downed your fifth glass of margarita for the night, and you still need more.

“bartender, give me one more.” at his nod, you’re ready to pull out a couple of bills, until a waft of lavender enters your nose. a glass is set down beside you.

“i’ll pay.”

you look up to see the same man from across the bar. up close, you can trace his features; soft jawline, soft skin, soft lips. he takes a seat beside you before asking, “care if i stay with you?”

it’s not that you find him unattractive. he just doesn’t fall under your usual types; those who had a sharp gaze with the goal of ruining you seemed to be the ones you gravitated towards.

everything about him screams an innocent man—and your tinder date is far from that.

“uh,” you clear your throat, “i have a date.”

his eyebrows scrunch together. “really? where are they? because i’ve seen you with no one the whole night.”

“well, he’s late, i think,” you whisper the last phrase.

you expect the stranger to laugh at you. it wouldn’t be the first time a man bothered you at a club. yet, he smiles. “then, can i keep you company? maybe wait for him with you?”

although you would grow annoyed at this type of persistence, you find yourself enjoying his presence. “don’t you think he’d see you and think that i ditched him?”

your order for another martini is placed in front of you.

“if he were a real man, he’d come up and let me know,” he says as he slides a couple of bills to the bartender. “besides, a real man wouldn’t leave you waiting.”

you muster out a bitter laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “okay, and what does that make you?”

his eyes flicker to the lipstick stain. “why don’t you find out yourself?”

seconds go by.

“well, do you have a name?”

he smiles. “jacob.”

“y/n.”

jacob hums as he leans on the bar. “so, who is this date?”

“just someone i matched with on tinder.”

“first date?” at your hum, jacob chuckles in disbelief. “you decided on the place?”

you roll your eyes. “have some faith in me.”

jacob shakes his head. “well, y/n, i don’t know enough about you.” he swishes the contents in his cup. before the rim can meet his lips, he says, “but that can change tonight.”

you’re not sure if the alcohol is taking a toll on you or the packed crowd raising the temperatures; your skin grows hot and jacob might be to blame. 

“so, i’m guessing he’s the one that chose the place.”

you nod at his assumption. as he grips his glass, arms resting on the bartop, your eyes trace the details; well-defined forearms and slender fingers.

despite talking about your tinder match, your mind drifts away from him. instead, it’s filled with images of the stranger beside you; arms strong enough to hold you up against the wall, hands that could leave bruises all over your hips, fingers that know how to ruin you until you’re on the verge of tears. you’re entranced by the sight of his fingers drumming against the table. every tap causes the pool in between your legs to grow.

his biceps tense up, and your breath hitches.  

“i would’ve never imagined a club for a first date.” when you meet his gaze, you spot a smirk plastered on his face, like he caught you in the act.

maybe jacob isn’t like the image you made him up to be.

“trust me, i wouldn’t have also.” your finger traces the rim of your glass, collecting some salt. 

he nods along with the beat of the music. “then what made you say yes?”

a beat passes.

“i’ve got needs,” you admit before popping your salt-covered digit into your mouth.  

he tongues the inside of his cheek, and you wonder how well he could eat you out; all the highs you could achieve all thanks to the licks against your clit. “really?” as he leans forward, your senses grow hazy over the scent of lavender, over the alcohol consumed, over the intoxicating presence of jacob. he stares right at you before taking a glance at your lips. “i wonder if he can really fulfill those needs.”

a bit of corruption swirls in jacob.

once you pop out your finger, you down the rest of your cocktail, staring right back at jacob who follows you. with drinks finished, you get off your seat and grab hold of his arm.

you drag him through the dance floor until your back hits a wall. you and jacob were not far from the sweaty crowd, still surrounded by those who are far too drunk to care about you two. yet, your hands reach out to his hoodie, and his hands plant against the wall.

a mix of red and orange strobes cast over your figures. even under the lack of white light, you take in jacob’s features. most of it still speak of gentleness, but his eyes scream otherwise—the type of look that makes you want to submit to his mercy.

“thought you were going to take me dancing,” jacob remarks. his hands trail down your face until it rests on the side of your neck. “maybe make your date jealous if he saw me with you.”

“you think you could do that, huh? think you could make the guy i was going to hook up with jealous of you?”

it’s a genuine question for the stranger you can’t stop thinking about. is jacob the definition of innocence?

he smirks before leaning closer. his breath grazes against your lips. “i think he should be jealous.”

your lips crash against his, hands bringing his body close to yours. his palms find their spot on your waist, reaching under your shirt and relishing in your warmth. your noses bump against each other in desperation.

the alcohol tells you that you need him closer, so your hands tug on his clothes. once his hips are flushed against yours, you grind on his cock, feeling it grow harder with every rock. the pool in between your legs grows; a wet patch on your panties. his hands find their spot on your ass, guiding every roll of your hips against his dick.

your senses are floating from the lack of oxygen. as you pull away from the kiss, you and jacob try to catch your breaths. but both your hips don’t stop from its ministrations. all you needed is any pressure on your clit.

“need you. now.”

he chuckles before letting his lips trail down your neck. he sucks on your skin, tongue darting out to leave marks all over you. your eyes shut close as you grow dizzy.

“want me to take you right here? surrounded by people?” as you let out a moan of desperation, jacob’s fingers dig into your skin. “what about your date?”

“i don’t care about him. i haven’t since you came.”

he lets out a hum in contentment of your revelation. “such a good girl for me.”

the pet name causes you to whine. as your grinding starts to go at an inconsistent rhythm, jacob doesn’t guide your hips anymore. your eyes open, hands gripping against his clothes.

“not here.” before you can beg him otherwise, he says, “can’t have others looking at you. you’re mine for the night.”

jacob is far from an innocent man—that’s all you need.

networks tag list: @kflixnet @k-labels @deoboyznet @kstrucknet

tbz permanent tag list: @winterchimez @mosviqu @stealanity (the only ones i was sure of who weren't minors)

[milfs69420]

You Belong With Me - Part 1

Natasha ran from her home country when she was 18, and has since been working at a stripclub in NYC. One night she spots a woman who seems all too familiar and turns out to be her childhood lover. While getting to know each other all over again, they discover new truths and old lies.

- Natasha Romanoff x Katya Petrova - Wordcount: 3K - Warnings: none I think - A/N: Sooooo, I wrote a fanfic about a fanfic. This stripclub AU idea has been floating around for a while, but I finally managed to get a part done. Thank you @katyaromanoffpetrova for letting me borrow your babies🫶 I hope I did them justice. If you're curious about who Katya is, check out the forgotten ghost series here!

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

The bright light above the mirror casts its hideous yellow hue down on Natasha’s face. She could hardly tell the shades of her various lipsticks apart in this setting. Some days she hardly bothered with her makeup, the dark circles around her eyes were far too visible for any concealer to hide. Today though, something told her to put in some extra effort. Who, or what, was telling her, she didn’t know. Very few things harnessed the power to make Natasha Romanoff listen, but she would never go against her intuition.

The redhead stepped out of the dressing room and into the dimly lit hallway. After sitting under that bright light for so long she had to squint her eyes to see where she was going. She hardly needed the ability to see here at all. Natasha had walked this very path so many times that she was doing it on auto-pilot by now. She knew every crease in the dirty, stained carpet. She knew exactly where to place her heel adorned feet as she made her way to the stage area.

Natasha liked dancing, loved it even. As a little girl in Russia she had danced nearly every single day. Even the extremely strict ballet teacher hadn’t been able to break her and her passion for letting the rhythm guide her body. Of course, this wasn’t the type of dancing career she had imagined for herself while growing up, but it’s what paid her bills and kept her alive.

Moving, or rather, running away to another country when she had just turned eighteen hadn’t been easy, and it certainly hadn’t been cheap. So when she met Clint, her best friend and one of the bartenders at the club, she took the opportunity she was offered and started working there as one of the dancers. Originally it had been a temporary solution, just to get her on her feet in this new life. However, she quickly realised these people were much more than just coworkers, they’d become her found family before she even realised it.

So here she was, in her high heels and the skimpy bits of fabric you could hardly call clothing. She heard the music start and let her body take over from her brain, as she made her way to the centre of the stage, complete with pole and all, she took a quick and subtle look at the crowd. At first glance it was the same as every other night, young guys who’d just gotten their paycheques, middle aged men who most likely told their wives they’re working late, and the same old men smoking cigars and eyeing her up.

But as she was about to shut her brain off and let her limbs move themselves, she spotted a woman. All alone and mysterious in the darkest corner of the club, with what looked like a martini in her hand. Thanks to the darkness, Natasha couldn’t make out any clear features. All she could see was dark hair, seemingly brown but she wasn’t certain. And all that she felt was an overwhelming amount of familiarity, like she hadn’t only seen this woman before, but like she knew her. Natasha could not see the woman’s eyes in the darkness, but she knew they were focused on her.

Whether she meant to or not, Natasha’s dance was focused on this woman now. If she looked into the crowd at all, she looked at her. She put some extra effort and seductiveness into her movements, and she enjoyed doing it. Dancing for men whose attention she hardly wanted in the first place was just a job, and not one she was always happy to do. But this woman brought out her true passion for dancing, motivated her to truly let the rhythm guide her and just enjoy the moment.

When the redhead finished her dance, she left the stage almost immediately and made her way towards that dark corner. The crowd didn’t let her through nearly as fast as she wanted, and she was disappointed to find the seat empty when she finally got there. If this had been any random person, Natasha would’ve assumed they got flustered by just being in the club and ran. However, something told her that wasn’t the case here. Her mood now having been ruined by not even catching a glimpse of the woman, she didn’t feel the need to stick around.

She went to the backstage area, walked that barely lit hallway again until she reached the door to the stairs. She was one of three people living above the club. Her, Clint and Maria each had their own spaces and enough privacy to not be bothered by each other, they did however share a kitchen together. The rent was incredibly cheap due to their employment and it was a nice spot in the city as well. Unbeknownst to their boss, Fury, Natasha had a dark haired, four legged roommate upstairs.

She found Liho in the street when she was still a kitten. She was looking about as miserable and hopeless as the redhead was feeling at the time, so the only logical option was obviously to take her home. Part of Natasha had been afraid that the cat would abandon her over time, but Liho seemed better than the humans who’d let the woman down time and time again.

That night, sleep did not come easy to Natasha. She overanalysed everything she saw, or didn’t see of the mysterious woman. For some unknown reason, she was a hundred percent sure that she knew this person. When or how they met, she didn’t know, but she was certain that they had.

………

Every night that she was on stage, Natasha looked at that corner, hoping to see the person who’d been keeping her up for weeks now. She’d almost lost hope that she would see her again at all, until today. As the redhead went through her entry routine on stage, she spotted that mystery person in the corner. Before she could stop it, the slightest smirk appeared on her face.

You see, Natasha had spent her sleepless nights coming up with a plan to prevent this woman from escaping again before she could truly see her. So she made her way to the front of the stage, which had stairs connected to it, and she went into the audience. Now obviously she couldn’t just walk straight to the corner, so as she moved through the various seating arrangements, she stopped a few times. She danced at some tables and gave some extra attention to men who seemed well off enough to throw her some extra dollar bills, until she finally approached that corner.

The lighting in the club focused on Natasha, and therefore started lighting up this usually dark area. As she moved closer, the redhead could see the woman more clearly by the second. The first thing that got her attention wasn’t the clothing that she was wearing, but rather the skin left exposed by it. Tattoos that Natasha couldn’t make out quite clear enough yet, decorated smooth skin as far as she could see. She found herself imagining how many more of those she could find underneath the black slacks and white dress shirt combination. The black blazer had been hung over the chair, and her white sleeves had been rolled up. As her eyes made their way upwards, she didn’t fail to notice the amount of buttons that had been undone on the shirt, before finally getting a look at the woman’s face

Brown, shoulder length hair surrounded what may just be the most gorgeous face she’d seen in a long time, if not her whole life. Piercing blue eyes had locked onto her green ones as soon as she’d left the stage, and hadn’t looked away since. Now, Natasha was by no means shy or introverted, but she found a surprising amount of difficulty just to hold eye contact. The woman however, seemed to radiate nothing but confidence.

Where most, if not all, men would be eyeing her up like a piece of meat by now, she found what seemed an awful lot like admiration in the brunette’s eyes. She was definitely staring at Natasha, but in an oddly respectful manner. There wasn’t just lust in her eyes, she seemed enticed by the way the redhead moved her body. The way this woman was looking at her made Natasha feel good. It made her feel sexy in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it filled her with newfound confidence.

Since the brunette was situated in a single chair and not in one of the booths they had in the club, Natasha took the opportunity to circle around her before settling in front of the chair. As the redhead moved her body to the music, the woman uncrossed and opened up her legs in a swift, but elegant, movement. Natasha took this as an invite to get closer, and as she did so she bent over just enough for her mouth to end up near this woman’s ear.

“Are you planning on running away again, darling?”

As she moved back to stand up straight again, she held eye contact with the brunette and found a smirk adorning that mesmerising face. Natasha could’ve, and had, imagined many different responses to her question. She’d thought about it far more than she should have probably. However, what came out of the woman’s mouth was far from anything she had expected.

“I think I’ll stay this time, I’ve missed seeing your face, Natalia.”

Shock and confusion overtook the redhead, and it was a good thing her performance time had ended at this moment. The spotlight went out as she made one last gesture to the crowd before turning around to face the woman again, what she found was that same smirk still on her face. Now though, Natasha didn’t think about how attractive that face was, she only focused on how the hell this person knew a name she had left behind all those years ago.

“How do you know that?” Was the first of many questions she wanted to ask, but for now it was the most important one. She recognised the features of the brunette’s face, but had a feeling that the time they knew each other was far in the past. What was starting to get to her though, was the smugness all over the face opposite of her. She seemed to know nothing about the person in front of her, who seemed to know a whole lot about Natasha.

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” The brunette started to get on her nerves now, Natasha wasn’t in the mood for any of these games, she wanted answers right now. “Am I supposed to recognise you? You seem to think you’re quite memorable.” At that, the woman smiled, not a smirk, no smug looks, a genuine smile.

“I thought people always remembered their first kiss.”

Now seemed like a great moment for Natasha to sit down in the chair opposite of the brunette, mainly because the shock of this all gave her some difficulty with standing up straight. “Katariina?” She couldn’t find the right words to say, so instead opted for just her name. She hadn’t seen that gorgeous face since they were both teenagers, so it made sense she didn’t recognise her right away, so many years later. Now that she knew though, she couldn’t stop the flood of memories that came over her.

Natasha had moved around Russia far more than she would’ve liked when she was a kid. Her mother had passed away when she was a baby, and her father just left her on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage. Little Natasha was far too rebellious for her own good, and this resulted in being kicked out of foster homes time after time again. The longest she ever lasted was a little over a year, and it wasn’t the family she was staying with that got her through that time. No, it was that beautiful face she found looking back at her now.

“It’s just Katya now actually, but good to know you remember, Natalia.” And remember, she did. She recalled the first time that she saw Katya, her foster parents quickly tugged her the other way and told her not to play with the girl, to never even go near the huge house on the other side of the street. But something about her had already intrigued Natasha, even if she had only seen her for just a second. From that moment on, all that she wanted to do was get to know this girl. As she did so, she found that she craved to be much closer than friends were supposed to be. She wanted to know her in far more intimate ways than society deemed acceptable for them.

“It’s probably my hair. It’s not blonde anymore” Natasha looked at her, took her time to take in this new appearance. “I can see that, the ink wasn’t there either.” Now it was Katya’s turn, to take in her own appearance. Smiling, she looked back at the redhead. “I suppose you, of all people, would’ve known about any ink on my skin.” At that, Natasha couldn’t help but blush. Memories of their secret meet ups filled her head. Some nights had been spent exploring the rural areas around their town, where nobody would find them. Other nights, they explored each other instead.

While they were both enjoying this seemingly light-hearted conversation, Natasha had questions to ask. “So I guess it’s not a coincidence that you found me, is it?” Katya smiled at her now, no longer hiding behind a facade of smugness and false confidence, powerful as she was, she’d been terrified of how the redhead could’ve reacted. “No it’s not, though I’ve got to give you credit where it’s due. You didn’t make it easy to track you down.”

“So how did you manage to find me anyway?” Natasha had changed her whole identity, finding her was supposed to be nearly impossible. “I have my ways.” Is all that the brunette gave her.

“Still being mysterious, I see. Nice to know you didn’t change too much.” She hadn’t meant to let that out as angrily as it did, but this was a lot to handle.

“I couldn’t afford to tell you anything back then, it would’ve put both of our lives at risk, Natalia.”

“And you still can’t tell me now?” For some reason, Natasha didn’t feel the need to correct the brunette when she used her old name. She was sure that Katya knew her new identity anyway, but simply chose not to acknowledge it. Plus, she didn’t mind the way her name sounded, rolling off of her childhood lover’s tongue.

“I could, and I might, but this isn’t the time or place. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?”

“So when and where do I have to be, to get some answers out of you?” Again, Katya smiled at her, and this time Natasha couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she looked as she did so. It seemed as if that magical charm that had intrigued her when they were teens, was still there all these years later.

“You seem quite eager to spend more time with me milaya(милая).” To hear that term of endearment coming from the brunette, seemed to bring back far more than just memories. Natasha felt as if her stomach did a backflip as soon as the word reached her ears. It shouldn’t be that easy, for Katya to make her feel anything at all after all this time. But neither of them could deny that they had a special connection, one that ran far deeper than just childhood love.

“I’m just eager to know how you found me, and why you wanted to in the first place.”

Katya just looked at her, a more serious expression on her face now. She seemed to be taking in every detail of Natasha’s appearance, studying her so attentively that the redhead started feeling shy under her gaze. Before she realised what was happening, Katya started getting up. She put on her jacket and Natasha would never admit how much she hated seeing all that skin being covered up. Right as the brunette was about to walk away, she turned around one last time.

“Saturday night, nine PM, be ready and wait outside. I’ll have a car pick you up.”

With that, Katya walked towards the exit, leaving Natasha to gather her thoughts as she made her way upstairs. The rest of the night was spent thinking about Katya, and that damn smile of hers. The brunette was the only person she’d met in their home country, who didn’t hurt her. The only person who made her feel like life may not be all that bad when you have someone to share it with. Leaving that town had been one of the most painful things she’d experienced, and she’s been through a lot. Being forced to leave the only person she had truly loved and felt connected to up until then had felt like someone ripped apart her heart. The worst part was that she wasn’t given a reason, her foster parents seemed to have decided overnight not to want her anymore.

She’d since learned to live with all the abandonment she’s had to go through, and she’s worked on becoming a better person ever since she left her home country. While she was well aware that this was much too early to think about having Katya in her life at all, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of getting to know her again.

That night, Natasha went to sleep feeling hopeful. Maybe she would’t end up alone, doing this job, after all.

[pictureinme]

no need to be shy – patricia 'kitten' braden

❧ request: the shy reader is at the club and she knows the kitten and the kitten knows her! The reader is sitting in the corner all quiet by herself until the kitten comes over and gets her comfortable before fucking her senseless in a private room! Or the bathroom …

word count: ~1.5k tags: semi-public, a tinge of roughness + dirty talk, p in v, grinding masterlist | ao3

You huff as you make yourself as small as possible in the already cramped club– the sticky leather booth you’ve huddled yourself in only making you more aware of the hopelessness of the predicament. You were never the ‘party animal’ or even the clubbing type as so many of your peers were, but decided tonight would be the night that all changes. To no one’s surprise, that didn’t work out, not even for a second.

The moment you were let into the club by the bouncer, who was a bit too generous with the cologne, you felt as though your heart dropped to your stomach. The music was shit, and the blokes were even worse– hounding you like you were easy and fresh meat for them to intoxicate until your standards lowered. You thought a drink might actually help in the end, but it was not only expensive, it tasted like watered-down gasoline.

Beginning to collect your purse and coat, your eyes fall upon a familiar face making her way through the crowd– bouncing off the energy of everyone in her path effortlessly. It was Patricia Braden, but you know her solely as Kitten, one of your most drop-dead gorgeous friends. You often dreamt of the day it would become more, with all her flirtations towards you, but you’d have to be held at gunpoint to admit such a thing.

Before you can hide yourself away amidst the crowd of drunkards, Kitten spots you– immediately lighting up like nothing else. She saunters to your booth, her platform heels clicking on the floor– the sound drowned out by the obnoxious music.

She tilts her head and smiles, "Well, fancy seeing you here, gorgeous! Mind if I join you?"

Kitten slides into the booth beside you before you can mutter a response, her fur coat brushing against your bare thigh. She takes a sip of her martini, the glass cradled so delicately– her eyes never leaving your face. "It's quite a surprise running into you here, (Y/N). This really isn’t your scene, is it?"

Her cadence is soft, leaving you with that familiarly strange sense of comfort in her presence. Shaking your head gently, you tug nervously at your ill-fitting dress for the evening, “You’re quite right, I… don’t know what was expecting by coming here. Was actually gonna leave before you spotted me!”

"Oh, sweetheart, don’t leave now! You look absolutely stunning, it would be such a waste,” Kitten leans closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm, “You know, there's plenty of fun to be had around here… as long as you know where to look."

Your heart speeds up as her eyes practically drill holes into your own, yet you can’t find the courage to meet them, “Well, you’re the life of the party, aren’t you? I’m sure it comes easy to you…”

Kitten hums, pulling your arm closer to her, the warmth of her body making you dizzy, “Oh, come on, then! Let’s get you used to the clubbing lifestyle– dance with me, dear!”

You let her drag you out of the booth, everything becoming a daze as her body seems to slot itself behind yours perfectly– the music suddenly seeming less shitty than it once did. You allow yourself to move with Kitten, her guidance with the rhythm made the rest of the club melt away. You lean back against her body, the fabric of your dresses shifting against each other perfectly– you don’t yet notice that delicious warmth igniting in your stomach at the touch.

“Not so bad, is it?” Kitten leans to your ear, her warm breath and voice causing you to tremble.

Opting to just nod in response, rather than embarrass yourself with a crack in your desperate voice, you feel her body shake with a laugh. Her hands snake their way all over you, seeming like it was all part of the dance she had guided you in– until she squeezed your hips.

Your legs open wider at this, the subconscious reaction telling Kitten everything that she needed to know, “Much less shy, aren’t you now, love?”

She spins you around to see your expression– the two of you share the same lust-filled gazes. You nod again, grateful that the music masked your heavy breathing– but it couldn’t mask the way you stared at her perfect lips. Not wasting another precious moment, she grips your hand in hers, and you allow her to take you wherever she was planning to.

Kitten sneaks around the perimeter of the club with you, knowing exactly where the private rooms are– you would never question how she knew such a thing when your brain was so dizzy from her simple touch. She swiftly unlocks the inconspicuous door, and before you know it, has you pinned behind it with a surprisingly gentle kiss.

“Been wanting to kiss you for so long, you know,” Kitten breathes out a laugh, her blue eyes darting between your eyes and lips, “Just needed an excuse, didn’t I?”

You let out a whimper at her words, and a simple utterance of, “Please.”

She locks you in another kiss, more searing than the last, as she quickly lifts your dress to caress your hips properly. You do the same to her, fingers brushing against her growing arousal– held back only by the thin fabric of her panties.

Separating to breathe again, you nod vehemently as she pulls down your panties, her fingers teasing at your wetness. Kitten brings them to her ruby red lips, savoring the taste as you feel your knees almost buckle at such an erotic sight.

She reaches up to stroke your cheek, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw, "Are you ready for a little more fun?"

You let her lead you to the velvet couch, the wide seating allowing the two of you to rest comfortably– it was becoming increasingly obvious that this room was used for a lot more than just dancing. You fall back against the plush fabric, legs spread as Kitten crawls in between them– leaning down to kiss your awaiting lips. She kisses down your neck, leaving red lipstick in her wake as you feel her hips begin to rock against your own. You let out a moan as her bulge rubs particularly hard against your already sensitive clit, and she moans as well.

“Please, Kitten,” you look at her weakly, your trepidation long gone, “I can’t wait anymore, please, I…”

She pouts, and you would have believed it, if it were not for the way her hips twitched at your pleas, “We’ll draw out the fun another time, then…”

Kitten quickly pulls down her panties, and without hesitation, starts to grind against your arousal again– but with no flimsy barriers in sight. The two of you whine in tandem as she coats herself in your wetness, all in the name of preparation, you’re sure. You feel as though you would burst just from this, but she just as quickly enters you with one swift thrust.

Your head falls back against the couch, thumping repeatedly as Kitten desperately fucks into your warmth, like it was the last thing she could ever do, “God, you feel so good, love… I always knew you would.”

“Kitten, oh!” You quickly cover your mouth with your hand at both her movements and words, the two seeming to concoct a plan to get you off embarrassingly fast.

She grabs your wrists to quickly pin them above you, not letting you hide your high-pitched moans from her, “Been wanting to be inside of you for so long, sweetheart… need to hear your cute little moans for me, don’t hide away.”

Her unexpected roughness has your legs wrapping around the small of her back, pressing Kitten even further into you– her shallow and quick thrusts deepening. You were completely at her mercy, and it only increased the volume of your moans– rivaling the music just outside the door.

“Always so perfect and shy,” she smiles as her grip on your wrists tightens, “Just needed me to fuck it out of you, right, my love?”

Nodding again, as it was the only thing you felt you could do in her presence, you mewl at her term of endearment despite the way she fucked into you, “Please, please, please…”

Kitten’s thrusts stutter at your already fucked-out expression and voice, “You’re so close, aren’t you? How long has it been since you’ve been loved properly, hm? Let go for me, angel.”

With her permission, you let yourself fall deeper into the pleasure she was giving you, the peak in sight as she reaches one of her hands down to rub deep circles on your clit. Your back arches off of the velvet, the blend of pain and pleasure from her insatiability crashes onto you like a tidal wave as you release.

She keeps thrusting into you, muttering praise as your legs keep her deep inside of you as she releases as well. You would figure out that predicament later, the only thing you could focus on was calming your breathing, and tiredly kissing Kitten back as she pulled out of your aching warmth.

[georgiapeach30513]

Underneath the City Lights, Part 3

Summary:  It’s time for Ari to move

Pairings:  Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, attempted non/con, physical abuse against reader, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  6.1K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

“And if you gentleman head this way,” Calvin leads a new group of investors to the club down the hallway, and towards the dressing rooms.  “If we’re lucky we may hear our Candy Jane practicing.  She should have a grand performance for you tonight.  Completely…nude.”

Calvin fights himself to not be disgusted at the thought of you being nude, but you were being put up for auction tonight, even if you didn’t know it.  Ari wanted to act like he had some grand claim on you, but Calvin would make it near impossible for Ari to pay if he had to.  He was getting tired of the two of your games.  There was something more going on, and he was going to put an end to it.

“What was that?” The businessman stops when a woman screams out, followed by the sound of broken glass.  “What sort of business are you running here, Newton?”

“The one where the clients get everything they want.  No matter what.  Some people like things a bit rough.  They enjoy their brats from time to time,” he awkwardly laughs, hearing another scream, this time from you.  “Anyways, I think it’s time to get you men in your seats.  Charles, make sure these gentlemen have the best seats in the house.”

Taking a deep breath, he waits for Charles to lead them down the hall before he heads towards your dressing room.  Slinging the door open right as August backhands you across the face.  Rita lays on the floor out cold, “What the fuck?”

“Calvin!  Calvin, please I didn’t do anything!” Talking back receives a grab to your arm.  His fingers dig into you as he jerks you to his body.  “Calvin!”

“Shut the fuck up you fucking cunt!  Your brother told me you were my problem to deal with,” your stupid brother backs himself out of your dressing room, leaving you to feel with August’s wrath.  “Like I said.  You want to be a fucking whore, I’ll treat you like one.”

When you scream no at him, he pushes you into the wall.  Starting to stalk towards you, while you cower in the corner; pissed and scared at the predicament that you’re in.  This isn’t at all what you signed up for.  This isn’t what your father or mother would have wanted, and your brother didn’t even care.  He was a coward.

“You,” Calvin snaps at a woman that was walking down the hall, flinching when she hears you cry out for help.  “Let the DJ know that Candy Jane won’t be performing tonight.”

“Sir?” Gasping when she hears you cry out in pain.

“She’s getting what is coming to her.  And if you were smart, you’d forget you heard anything,” he straightens his tie out, walking down the hall.  He did tell August that you were his problem, but that doesn’t mean he had to listen to it.  He had a goal, and that was to destroy Ari Levinson and his fucking mafia.  Stealing from his family for years.  Paying their dues.  They didn’t need Ari.

“What the fuck is this?” Ari sits up, eyes flitting around the stage.  This was your spot, but that was not you.  “Jonathan, we have a problem.”

“I see that,” he snaps his fingers at the nearest waitress, and she bounces over to them.  Batting her lashes at Ari, anything for extra tips.  “Where’s the Candy girl?”

“Uh…she…sh-sh-she can’t perform,” she was told to forget what happened, and that’s what she should do.

“Why?” Ari growls out, standing up, and she backs away from him.  “You tell me where she is, and I’ll make sure you never have to work another day here in your life.”

“August,” she squeaks out.  Tears falling down her face.  “She was screaming, and Calvin told me to forget.  I’m sorry.  I know she’s your favorite, but they’re…August wants her.”

“Pay her,” Ari demands, darting off towards the dressing rooms.  He has studied The Dirty Martini enough.  He doesn’t stop even when people start yelling at him.  You had given him valuable information, and he was going to make sure that you were kept safe.  Tonight was the night anyway.  The jet was ready.  All he needed was you in it.

It’s easy enough to find your dressing room with your piercing screams.  The hallway was completely empty.  Everyone was fleeing away from your cries for help.  “You fucking bitch!  Not only have you been stealing money, but that prick promises you a ride on his dick, and you start running your cock sucking mouth.”

“August stop!” One more scream, and he slams your head on the vanity, and your vision starts to blur.  “Please, don’t,” whimpering as he kicks your legs further apart.  “Don’t,” between the stars in your eyes, and your tears, you can’t see anything.  With one hand, August holds you down, but he spits in the other.  Your body starts shaking with your cries as you try to take your mind anywhere but here.

August never touches you, and your body does drop down on the floor.  You scurry underneath the dressing table, hiding from whatever commotion is occurring around you.  Pulling your knees up to your chest and hiding your face while Ari pounds into August’s skull.  You look over at Rita who you just know is dead.  You can’t see clearly enough to see if she was breathing.  

Ari spits on August, and turns towards you.  Holding you bridal style, and carrying you out of there, “Rita.”

“Dulce, I’m not worried about her right, sweetheart.  Can you see?” Sniffling, you shake your head no.  “I’m getting you out of here.  Just keep those pretty little eyes open, and look at me,” your face is already forming bruises.  Swelling every second.  And Ari runs a bit faster.  He needs you out of here.  Things happen so quickly as he carries you through the building.  You couldn’t even tell he was running.  

He puts the both of you in the backseat of an SUV, and tells something to his partner, but you cling tighter to him.  Your brother was allowing that monster to touch you in any way that he wanted.  And August kept repeating how he was going to break you in.

“Dulce, eyes open, darling.  We’re getting on the jet.”

“No.  Rita,” you need to know she’s okay.  Your eyes start to flutter close, and Ari gives you a tap to your cheek.  “Ari?”

“Jonathan when we take off, I want you to make sure that Rita is the next one to be retrieved…well…just let me know what you find out.  I’m going off grid for a couple of days,” Jonathan clears his throat as Ari gets the two of you out of the car.  “I have to make sure she’s okay.  Is there a doctor on board?”

“Yes,” Jonathan answers shortly.  There isn’t time for Ari to be missing for a couple of days.  He had a job to do.

“A couple of days.  Give me that,” with that Ari walks the two of you onto the jet.  Trying to sit you in your own seat, but you hold him tighter, “Dulce, I need someone to look at you.”

“Don’t leave me, please,” his hand cups your cheek, and he looks at you so sweetly.  “Please, don’t,” whispering again.  Ari’s glassy eyes look up at the doctor.  He couldn’t.  You need to be checked out.

“Ari, I can look at her while you hold her.  No big deal,” she tilts your head towards her, shining a light into your eyes, and you try not to sob.  Calvin allowed this.  “Other than what I see, did he hurt you anywhere else?” You shake your head, and squeeze tighter to Ari.  “Sweetheart, do you need Ari to leave?”

“No!” The idea of Ari’s skin not touching yours makes your body start to shake uncontrollably, and he pulls you closer to his body.

“Look at me, did he touch you?  Did…did he…”

“No, Angie.  I walked in before he was able to,” a kiss.  The softest kiss is pressed on your temple.  Slowly your breathing regulates, and the tenseness in your body starts to subside.

“Is that true?” Her voice was soft, and reminded you so much of your mother’s.  “Honey, no one here will judge you.  I just need to know.”

“No.  He didn’t.  Ari?”

“I’m right here.  Can you give her something for the pain?  Anything?”

Answering yes, she gets out of her seat, fetching her bag when she comes back, “Now, after your adrenaline has calmed down, I need you to get checked out again.  Where you’re going, someone will know how to get in touch with someone to help.  I fear that you may have fractures.  I’m giving you a fake passport, and ID.  Ari will be listed as your emergency contact, but try not to get lost.  Your bruises are deep.  But you survived.”

Ari softly lays you in a warm bed, walking over to a dresser, he pulls out a few things before heading back to you, “Dulce, sit up, darling,” you sit up, and he pushes back the robe off your body.  Replacing it with a silk nightgown.  His hands never touch your skin, but he is sure to pull it completely down your body.

“I’m going to lay you back down, and change your panties, okay?” Your eyes finally give up their fight, and start closing as you lean back.  “Good girl,” Ari whispers gently.  Every touch on you is with so much care.  And then a thick duvet is pulled over your body, followed by a kiss to your temple.

Sleep starts to overtake you, and your body feels as if it weighs five thousand pounds.  Stuck to the bed, and unable to move.  It’s strangling.  Voices.  So many voices.  Hands.  Rough hands all over you.  Blinding lights.  Piercing pain.  Blurry vision.  Grunts.  Force.

You jolt up in bed sweating, heaving as you look around you.  You had never been here.  Your body is so sore, and you have no idea where you are.  “Ari,” you whisper.  He had been with you.  He saved you.  Throwing off the heavy blanket, you start tiptoeing out the room you are in.  Listening for voices, but there is none.

Your eyes look up and down the hallway, and only one door has a faint glow under it.  It was worth the shot.  Opening up the door you see his handsome face, sleeping calmly.  His bed was bigger, and you didn’t want to be alone.

As you lift up the blanket, Ari sits up abruptly, eyes wide staring at you.  A hand under his pillow, and you gaze at him owlishly, “Dulce, what are you doing?”

“I was having nightmares.”

“I should have figured.  Here,” he opens the blanket, you and get a quick glance at his body.  Gulping as you try and get comfortable.  “What’s wrong?” He asks when you try to twitch around.  “Darling?”

“Can you hold me?” He hesitates, and you know why.  There will be nothing that separates him from you.  He is completely nude, but he still pulls you flush with his body, and you start relaxing.  “Thank you.  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.  Get some sleep.”

Sleep.  Would it ever be comfortable again?  Before it was a way to escape your life.  Now it was haunting.  And every time that you feel August you wake up to Ari’s hands. His touch is gentle, and not demanding.  It is soft and caring.  Protective.  Comfortable.

“Ari,” you whimper, spreading your legs a bit.  It was stupid, but you think maybe if you had sex with Ari you would quit having visions of August trying to take.  It didn’t make sense, and made total sense all the same, “Ari.”

“Dulce,” Ari responds, with less enthusiasm.  Sitting up in the bed, and slinging his feet over the edge, opposite of you.  His arms go above his head as he stretches out, yawning a bit.  Standing to walk over to the closet, pulling out some clothes, and tugs them on, “You just going to stare at me, or are you going to get dressed?  You remember where your room is?”

“Yeah, but,” you try to act sexy, biting at your lip.  Already cursing yourself for trying.  Ari does smirk at you, but shakes his head.  “But…”

“Get dressed.  I want to introduce to you my favorite woman in the world.”

Woman?  Woman?  What was his deal?  You get out of the bed, and stomp back to your room.  The nightgown definitely covered enough.  But you were told to get dressed.  Get dressed.  Rolling your eyes you open the closet, and pull out the first dress you touch.  He had a closet full of clothes for you.  He slept in the bed naked with you, and he had a woman.  

His favorite woman in the world.  His dick was touching the back of your legs just now, and he had a woman.  In this house?  Or was he keeping you away from her home?  Of all the stupid things, you trusted Ari with more than just your life.  You were acting like a child.  A fool.  And one stupid enough to believe that you were a woman in his life.

“Are you decent?” Ari knocks softly on the door.

“Yes,” your answer is short, but Ari still smiles.  “Where are we?”

“Tuscan,” well, he was full of words this morning.  Get dressed.  Meet my favorite woman in the world.  Are you decent?  Tuscan.  You feel this rage of jealousy build up inside of you, and for what?  Ari didn’t promise you anything.  Nothing.

“Here she is,” he says brightly, giving a big hug to an old woman, “Dulce, this is Nonna.  Nonna, this is…”

“Dulce Newton,” her smile is so large, her eyes completely close.  Crinkles move over her skin, and you look at Ari confused.  “I was the one that gave you that nickname.  You were always so sweet.  Followed Ari around like a lost little puppy.  Sit down.  I made breakfast.  Got you some nice coffee, maybe it’ll help your throat.  I trust the closet is good for you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ari pulls out a chair for you to sit in before he sits down beside you, demanding that Nonna sit down as well.  “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?  You are here, as am I.  I made breakfast, and coffee.  Drink.  Eat.  Later you can go out in the vineyard.  Go to the edge, look out at the ocean.  Travel down to the docks.  Stay away from too many people.  Is that all the words, figlio?  Ari has so many rules for me, and now you have them, too.”

“And you’re still alive, and living your dream on a vineyard,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, giving it a glance over before his chair screeches on the floor.

“No!” Nonna shouts pointing at him.  “You eat.  Then leave,” you turn to look at him, fear laced in your eyes, and Ari places a calming hand on your thigh.  “No point in arguing.  Duty calls, but he will eat.”

“Dulc, I have some things I need to attend to.  I’ll only be away for a few days, and then I’ll be back, and we will discuss what is going on.  I pissed a lot of people off.”

“Language,” Nonna scolds him, taking a sip of her coffee.  “I know you are a brute, but at this table, you will be respectful.  Especially in front of Dulce.”

“Yes, ma’am,” his hand never leaves your thigh, but not much else is discussed.  There isn’t much use.  Nobody tells Ari what he is going to do.  You just do it.  You just do as you are told.  

Ari stands up abruptly, and walks over to kiss Nonna’s cheeks, before he’s back in front of you.  A soft kiss to your temple, just like the one the night before, “I will be back in a few days.  I have things I have to take care of, and I need you here, and away from everything.  Nonna knows the drill.  Trust her.  I”ll be back.  Take care.”

He places another kiss on your temple before turning to leave.  “There’s no point in worrying about this.  But you seemed a bit upset.  He called me his favorite woman again, didn't he?” You sit in silence, trying to work through your emotions.  It had been a long night.  And you have conflicting feelings.

“Hmm, how did you sleep?  Considering your bed was empty.”

“I slept with Ari.”

“Sleeping slept, or the sexy slept?”

“He wouldn’t,” it wasn’t a lack of trying on your part.  You guess that outside of the club, you are nothing to Ari.

“Good.  Judging by those bruises on your face, neck, wrists, and I’m sure other places the last thing you need is sex.  Ari’s a good man.  If you didn’t mean anything to him, you wouldn’t be here.  And he would have had sex with you.  He can have sex with whoever he wants, but the ones he holds out on mean more than just a good lay,” she reaches across the table to hold onto your hand, and then stands carrying dishes to the sink, and you catch a glimpse behind her ear.

You don’t say anything, just tuck your legs up against your chest.  Thinking.

“I don’t expect you to always talk, but you should always listen.  You had a traumatic evening I gathered.  Your brother is running your dad’s business to the ground.  I’ve heard stories.  The day Ari had someone bring in loads of clothes here for you.  No one ever comes here.  No one even knows this place exists except the people that were here, and two others.  The one that brought your clothes, well she’s the only one that visits regularly.”

You look out the kitchen window.  Sprawling vineyards cover the backyard.  This is a piece of paradise.  “Yeah, but if it’s Ari’s house, people will know.  It can’t stay hidden for long.”

“It’s mine.  Ari might have paid for it, but this is mine.  It’s too big, but that’s how he is.  He likes things to be grand, and make a statement,” she tucks a wisp of hair behid her ear, causing even more attention to that spot, and you can’t help but stare at it.  “I wasn’t so different from you.  Ari’s grandfather saved me.  I was branded like cattle.  Looks like you're branded in bruises.  Did he touch you?”

You swallow bile as tears immediately cascade down your face.  Shaking your head no.  You knew what she meant.  August didn’t get the chance.  “He was going to though?” The tears come more rapidly, and Nonna moves to sit down beside you.  Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, and pulling you into her.  “There, there.  You not only survived, but now you get to live.”

“I think he killed my friend.  She wasn’t breathing,” Rita stepped in to protect you, and received a vase of flowers to the back of her head before August head butted her.  “Ari left her.”

“Ari’s goal was to get you out of there.  You’re of no value dead.”

“I gave him just a bit of information.”

“No.  He wouldn’t have allowed you to sleep in his bed.  My boy sleeps naked.  If you were just information he would have fucked you.  He wouldn’t have come back after you gave him the information.  He’s a smart man, sweet Dulce.  He came back for you, not the information.  He left I’m sure for some unfinished business.  Maybe to check on your friend.  But there’s no point in crying over Ari’s business.  You get used to the men going away.  Coming back bearing gifts to apologize.  They live hard lives, and want something soft to come home to.  You’re safe here, but stay away from large crowds.  Don’t leave the property until your bruises are healed.  People ask too many questions, and you will lead them right to our sanctuary.”

“I didn’t want to be a part of this life,” Nonna kisses the top of your head, and stands up, heading back to the sink.  

“You being here means you’re not a part of that life.  If you were a part of it, Ari would have you on his arm.  Showing off what he has that no one else does.  He brought you here to give you a different life than the mafia games, and dealing in drugs and pussy.  And you know it’s true.  You’re not in that life.  You’re in his.  Why don’t you walk through the vines.  They’re quite calming.  Later, I can show you the wine cellar.  Ari loves his wine.  It’d be a shame to not have that pretty dress blowing in the wind.  Heaven knows how much he spent on those clothes.”

Her weathered hands start scrubbing the breakfast dishes, and you stare at her burned skin a bit longer.  She was owned, and someone had wanted everyone to know who owned her.  “I didn’t know Ari was Italian.”

“He’s not.  I am.  His grandfather and I were never married.  Never were lovers, but best friends.”

“He rescued you, and…”

“His grandfather and him are not the same person, Dulce.  You still have that crush on my boy?” You shrug your shoulders, because you weren’t quite sure what you thought of Ari.  There was a raw attraction to him, but to say that you wanted anything more than sexual comfort was silly.

“Hmm.  Enjoy the sun, Dulce.  Enjoy being able to get out and have some freedom.  I’m sure that they kept you hidden and locked up.  Controlled your outfits, your hair, makeup, even the way your body looked.  This is your life now.  Live it.”

“What you said earlier,” Nonna turns to look at you, giving you her undivided attention.  There is something that has been bothering you.  “Ari and I…we…he bought a private room to be with me.  So I am…I’m just sex for him.”

“Mmm,” she takes a deep breath as she wipes her hands on her apron.  Moving to sit at the table with you, “Isn’t that private room where you were able to give Ari some valuable information about your brother’s plans?”

“Well, yeah, but…it wasn't’ sex, but…”

“You mean, you were being a smart woman.  Getting some enjoyment, while you gave him a bit of information while the cameras were on.  They only caught you and Ari having some pleasures of the flesh.  Dulce, I meant what I said.  That was a different instance.  What happened before is not now.  You did what you had to do to get out of there.  And when I tell you that you are more than just the wet cunt in between your thighs, it’s what I meant.  I don’t — I don’t play games with you or my boy’s mafia.  I know him.  I half raised that man.  He values you far more than you’re giving yourself credit for.  So what if he tasted or felt your warmth.  Things are at play.  It’s best you keep your head down and stop worrying about what these boys are doing to keep their territories in check.  It won't’ be long.  Calvin and August will not overturn Ari’s power.  Now, go enjoy your freedom.”

Squinting out at the horizon of the ocean, you watch as a few boats float into the dock.  You still hadn’t gathered the courage to leave the property, but there is something so serene about watching the boats.  The salty air hangs thick in the air, and the sun paints across your cheeks.  The bruises had since faded, but the pain was still there.

A few days had turned into a couple of weeks, and there was no word from Ari.  Nonna told you there wouldn’t be.  He didn’t call here.  He just appeared, and would leave again.  You bring your knees up to your chest, circling your arms around them.  This became your stance.  No one else was here to hold you, so you hold yourself.  

Things at the little countryside home were peaceful.  And most impostly free.  Free from your brother and August.  Free from being put on stage as a naked dancing bear.  Unfortunately it was also free of Ari.  He lied.  He didn’t return, and left no word for you to know if everything is okay or if he is even alive.

He didn’t get to see you in the kitchen with Nonna as she taught you to cook and bake her favorite foods.  He never saw you mess up your bed, only to sneak into his bedroom every night.  Making the bed again before Nonna woke, while you pretend that you had slept in your room.  He didn’t know that you had sprayed his cologne on his pillows and your nightgowns to help you sleep.  He definitely didn’t know that you sat at the edge of the property watching the boats and tide come in; listening to the seagulls caw, and hope that one day he would come back to you.

You were free from being property to whatever man paid enough.  But you were trapped here longing for his return.  Wondering.  Worrying.  Waiting.  And every day that passed was another day of disappointment.

Ari steps into the kitchen.  Could already smell Nonna preparing something for dinner.  He says out her name, alerting her of his arrival and hopefully you as well.  She gives him a swat to his arm glaring, “How dare you, Ari Levinson.”

“What did I do?”

“A few days.”

“It’s business, and you know it’s never a few days,” he apologizes as his eyes move to the smaller set of stairs.  Not nearly as grand as the one in the front of the house.  “Is she napping?”

“She’s where she always is, sitting and waiting on you.  A stupid man with his stupid lies.  Telling me a few days in one thing, telling a girl who trauma bonded with you is another.  Stupid man.  You’re smart enough to not sleep with the girl, and still too dumb to realize she needs her savior.  You can allow your second to deal with some things while you get her settled.”

“She told you I didn’t sleep with her?” Nonna starts cursing at him in Italian, and Ari sits at the table, letting her berate him.  “Nonna, I didn’t sleep with her because…”

“You like the girl.  That’s why you couldn’t.  You have this protective hold over her.  You want to make sweet love with her in your mind, and your body is ready to devour her.”

“You gotta stop reading those trash books.”

“You like her, and she likes you.  She did before that night, and then you stepped in and saved her.  You told me she held onto you the whole flight here, and then you think you can just leave, you stupid man.  Aye yi yi.  What am I going to do with you two?” She starts talking to herself in her mother tongue, and Ari tries to piece together what she’s saying before interrupting.

“Taylor was missing,” Nonna stops talking quickly, and slowly sits down at the table.  “We located her, and she is recovering from her injuries.  Ready to tear me a new one because she doesn’t like outsiders involved.  I couldn’t put my second in charge because I didn’t have a second.  This is bigger than expected.”

“Hmm,” is all Nonna says as she goes back to her cooking.  Ari hopes for her to respond to more, but she doesn’t.  She starts humming a song that you had been singing, ignoring Ari.

“Are you going to tell me where she is?”

“Look out the window.  Take that basket.  I was going to take her some lunch, and now you can.  Grab a bottle of wine,” Ari stands at the double doors, watching you.  You looked peaceful, but sad.  One of the many dresses that he bought you billows in the wind.  “She sits there everyday.  Looking out at the ocean, and waiting on you.  Your sister is at the restaurant.  She sounded angry.  Maybe because her wife was missing?”

“I don’t care.  Taylor has been located.  I’ll visit with Leah later,” he grabs a bottle of wine from the cabinet, and the basket of lunch.  Jauntily walking out to you.  It had been far too long.  This week was shaping up to be a bunch of women angry with him.  

“Dulce.”

“Go away,” you answer coldly.  You didn’t want to look at him.  Looking at him hurt.

“Dulce, let me explain.”

“A few days, Ari.  You were gone for nineteen days.  Maybe next time you can tell me your definition of a few days is,” he joins you on your blanket.  Leaning forward, he tries to get your attention, but instead you turn your head up and away from him.  “I wait here everyday for you to return.”

“I’m here now.”

“I won’t be stuck here and be lied to about how long you’re going to be gone.  I deserve to know where you are.  How you are, and how much longer you are going to be.  You come here with…with a picnic basket and wine, and you want me to just open up my arms and let you back in, and I…I worried about you everyday.”

“I know.  And I am sorry, I truly am,” reaching for your hand, you flinch away, and he stops.  Letting his hand rest on his own thigh.  “I ran into some problems.  My second in command was missing.  She had to be located.  She has been, she is now in charge for at least a week.”

“She?”

“My sister’s wife.  Leah didn’t want to have anything to do with our world, but she fell in love with a girl that did.  I wasn’t just locating my second in command.  I was locating my sister-in-law.  She is now safe, and recovering from minor injuries, and before you ask, it had nothing to do with The Dirty Martini.  That is something entirely separate.  Jonathan got Rita out of the club, and she’s…she suffered from injuries, and is in a completely different safe house.  No one knows about this place.  And I will continue to keep it that way.  You got jealous when I mentioned my second was a she.”

You protest by shaking your head.  Laying your hand on the blanket, you are not as angry now, and long for his touch.  Even if he thinks you were jealous.  You are not.  It’s just insulting to think he was looking for a woman, while you are here.  And even thinking it makes you realize how ridiculous you’re being.  “Yeah, you were.  What is there to be jealous of?”

“You…I…Ari, this is complicated.”

“No it’s not.”

“I offered to have sex with you, and you denied me.  But at the club you…”

“I touched you, and tasted you, yes.  I played my part just like you did,” he almost gets a chance to lay his hand on top of yours, but instead you cross your arms.  “Dulce, please, stop.  What happened in that private room, with cameras you can not bring out here.”

“You know what I taste like.”

“What is your point?” You will not answer.  He is being an ass.  Two can play that game.  “That room was for you to survive.  We did what we had to do for you to exchange information.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“If I recall, as did you.”

“Ugh,” you scoff, completely turning your body to where your back is facing him.  “You paid for me before knowing who I was or what information I had to offer.  You used me.”

“We used each other.”

“You…you had your fingers inside of me.”

“And they slipped in easily, because you were soaked.”

“You’re a pig,” this shouldn’t hurt so much.  Clearly he is just a client.  You can not get attached because you are nothing more than entertainment to him.

“And you were playing the part of a paid for whore.  You’re not in there and I will not treat you as a paid companion now.  Do you understand?” You slowly and dramatically exhale, and it only irritates Ari even more, “Do you understand?  I am not paying for your time.  I don’t need you grinding on my lap, and fucking my fingers, while you whisper how your brother and August have this half baked plan to overthrow my family.  Dulce, no matter what you think, me not fucking you is being respectful.  What do you want me to do?  Lay you down flat on this blanket, and pull your dress up, railing into you?”

“I want you to want to do that.”

“Oh my god!  I do want to do that!” You glance over your shoulder looking at him.  His outburst is not at all what you had been expecting.  “The only thing I have thought about every night as I was fucking my hand was sinking into you.  But I don’t want just sex with you.  You get it now?  I brought you here to my family.  Not my mafia family, but my favorite protected people.  If you were only as good as the information you gave me, you would be in an actual safe house instead of my Nonna’s home.  I chose this place because I wanted you more than just safety.  Now, turn around, and have lunch with me, and quit practically begging me to fuck you.  It just may happen, but it’s not going to happen right now.”

You do turn around, but you still don’t look at him.  You still don’t say anything, just grab the picnic basket and pull out two plates.  Laying out some cheese, grapes, and bread while Ari fills wine glasses.  “You’re not going to talk to me, hmm?”

“I am still mad at you.”

“Be mad at me, but you could at least smile.”

“Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

“I sleep naked.”

“Then you better have the resistance of the strongest man alive because I already sleep in there every night.  That is my bed.  You can continue to sleep naked,” and you preferred that.

“I’ll be late,” it is already starting again.  You throw your head back growling, and Ari laughs a moment, “Leah is demanding an audience with me.  I have to wait until she closes the restaurant to do that.  Okay?  Just have on one of your pretty little nightgowns, and wait on me.  I’m not leaving Tuscan.  I’m just going into the city.  I’ll wear a tracking device if you want me to.”

“No.  But I want you back within an hour.  And I want you to stop lying to me.”

“Fine.  I won’t be gone longer than two hours, but it should be closer to an hour.  Leah talks, I listen.  She probably just wants to fuss at me for losing her wife.”

“Fine.  Pass the Brie, please,” Ari nods his head with a smile, but passes the Brie.  He has never been told what to do by a woman.  And here you are making demands of him, and he isn't even angry.  There is respect.  But also it turned him on that you weren’t afraid to make such demands.  He dreaded going to talk to Leah almost as much as he did talking with Taylor.  Leah was well suited for this business.  Too bad she hated everything about it.  Except her wife.

Ari didn’t care what the business was, he was going to spend time here.  Time with Nonna, his sister, but most importantly; time with you.

Ari reaches a hand out, placing it respectfully on your knee, and you actually allow him that touch.  His thumb traces over the joint as he takes a bite. The two of you go into a less intense conversation than the one prior.  Comfort.  He was like a warm hug.

Nonna looks up through her kitchen window as she finishes her task of the moment.  A smile creeps up on her face before she closes the curtains.  The two of you are going to be okay.  People never could stay mad at Ari, and you were proving to be no different. But from the looks of it, you had given him your boundaries. Just like she told you to. Ari hated to read between the lines. He always wanted to know.  And it looked like you were going to tell him exactly what you wanted.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @whimsyplaty92​ @elrw24​ @lovsalpkn @midnightramyeoncravings​ @angelmather1​ @slowdownbeforeyouregretit​

[albertdabuttler]

Be My Lover | K.H.

MASTERLIST

fandom: 80s

pairings: Kirk Hammett x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut… Drinking but not getting drunk, jealousy, nothing happens with the other guy, possessiveness, dirty talk?? public sex kinda, fingering, p in v unprotected, looooots of kissing, giggly after sex Kirk.

summary: You thought going to a club to fill a void would help, until you’re ditched and caught dancing with another man.

WC: 3.6k

gif by me!!

A/N: who else loves be my lover by la bouche?

———————

11:13PM, June 6th, 1996.

Clubs weren't ever really your thing.

Like who the fuck wants to go out, wait in a line for an hour and when you get in, everyone forgets about personal space and it reeks of sweat, alcohol and weed.

A friend you met recently had invited you to a club to have 'fun,' and you didn't want to let her down. 

"Hey!" She called, running up to you with open arms, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"How are you?! Were you waiting outside for long?" She asked.

"I'm good, thanks for asking. And no, I was on the list apparently." You shrugged.

"Ugh, you're so lucky you're dating a cool rockstar who can get into whatever club he wants... I wish I had a boyfriend like that."

You laughed, "I don't even know that I'm on these lists until I actually go to the club. Sometimes it's fucking weird as hell 'cause I've never even heard of most of them." You stated.

"But what about you, Sara? How are you?"

"I'm good! Someone offered estacy but I wanted to wait for you to take it." She winked.

You chuckled, "Oh, you didn't have to do that. I wasn't really planning on doing anything crazier than getting wasted."

"That's fine." She laughed.

"Also, I am so sorry to do this... But I met a cute guy...so I'm gonna go talk to him." She whispered, "I'll catch you later though!"

"That's fine, bye!" You smiled.

There was no fucking way she just invited you to a club only to ditch you. God, what was your problem with making all these terrible friends? Maybe it was the close contact to Kirk and the rest of the band. But you felt selfish for thinking that way...

You spotted a bar near the middle of the club so you made your way to it.

"What can I get for ya?" The barista asked.

"Could I get an extra dirty martini with Tito's?" You requested as you sat on one of the stools.

"Sure thing!" He smiled, turning around to make your drink.

What an upbeat guy, you thought.

A minute passed and he handed you your drink, moving to serve any other people at the bar.

Spinning in your chair towards the dance floor, you spotted a guy staring at you.

He raised his eyebrows at you and smiled, before walking towards you. You quickly turned back around.

Please god save me.

"Hey, beautiful."

You grimaced at the corny line.

"Can I help you?" You said politely.

"What are you doing all alone in a club like this?" He looked you up and down.

"Uh, my friend invited me but she ditched me for a guy." You answered truthfully.

"That's not very nice. How about you finish your drink and come dance with me?" He smirked, sitting on the stool next to you.

You were bored out of your mind and didn't want to sit at the bar and look like a depressed, lonely loser, so you agreed.

"Sure." You forced a smile.

A couple minutes later, you had finished your drink and were on your way to the dance floor, the guy following close behind.

You liked the song that was playing, and instinctively began subtly nodding your head to the beat of the song.

Dancing wasn't really a skill you had, so you just swayed your hips in hopes that no one would notice your horrible attempt.

You looked around the room for the guy you were with when suddenly you felt hands on your waist.

Pulling away and turning around, you were looking up at him.

"I have a boyfriend. Just an FYI." You took his hands off you, awkwardly chuckling.

"So? I have a girlfriend. It's okay to have a little fun." He moved closer.

"We're not doing anything. So don't try it." You responded.

He smirked, resting his hands on your waist.

It felt odd, you really missed Kirk. You hadn't spent time with him in almost a month because of all the technical work business shit he had to deal with to release the Load album.

So you pretended it was Kirk's hands on you.

The two of you swayed to the music, his hands running up and down your sides and as pathetic as it was, you actually pictured Kirk behind you. Running his hands along your waist and hips, whispering stupid shit he thought of to make you laugh like he always did.

You opened your eyes, literally catching on fire and burning your eyes at the hottest sight in human history.

A man in an all black outfit, chain necklaces, short black, curly hair, and a lip and nose piercing greeting random people in the club.

Your movements halted at the sight of him, causing your partner to stop too.

Grinning enough to make your cheeks hurt, he finally turned his head and spotted you, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store.

In that moment you realized how he was seeing you, his grin slowly faltered and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Oh, fuck," you mumbled to yourself as Kirk made his way to you.

"Hi," Kirk smiled as he approached the two of you.

"Can we help you?" The guy asked.

"Yes sir," He smiled, showing that adorable dimple. "What's your name?"

"My names Diego." He answered.

"And who's this lovely lady beside you...?" Kirk smiled to himself at the sight of you.

You were about to answer before Diego replied.

"She's my date." He said possessively

"She's your what?" Kirk kept smiling, cocking his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed. You felt yourself getting nervous.

"We were just dancing." You replied for him.

"Yeah." Diego agreed.

"I'm sorry," Diego interrupted, "but who are you?"

Kirk turned to you with a look that said 'You could have done so much better.'

"I'm Kirk. Kirk Hammett." He smiled politely. You could tell he was holding back from strangling this asshole to death.

"Oh, you're that Metallica guy, right?"

Kirk pursed his lips, nodding his head in slight annoyance.

"I like your music. But if you'll excuse me, I'm going to dance with this one." Diego tried to walk away.

"She's my girlfriend, dumbass. Why do you think I came over here?" Kirk got impatient.

Diego was about to respond before Kirk grabbed your wrist, "Now if you'll excuse us though," he said, leaving Diego there astounded.

"Where are we going...?" You questioned.

He turned and gave you a dirty look, "You, shut up."

"What the fuck did I do?" You scoffed.

Kirk didn't reply and you took that as a sign to actually shut up. This wasn't like him at all, you had no idea what came over him or why he seemed so pissed off.

Finally you found yourself being led into a hallway, and you saw the bathrooms at the end.

He pulled you through the door, leaning against it and crossing his arms. The bathroom was big and fancy, just like the club. Black walls, the stalls were fully enclosed, the sinks had golden faucets and there was even a little counter where one could touch up their makeup. You leaned on it.

Thankfully you were the only two in there.

"What were you doing with that guy?"

"Dancing." You replied, annoyed.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because, you've got a boyfriend," he gestured to himself, scoffing.

"Oh my god, Kirk. What's going on with you? We danced for like five seconds before I saw you. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you didn't turn him down. And he's a piece of shit." He replied.

"Okay? I was bored. My friend ditched me." You said.

"Bullshit."

You clenched your teeth, "You can't really tell me who I can or can't dance with, because you fuck groupies.” You poked him in the chest, “Highly doubt you'd turn down a chance to have sex." You seethed, thinking you hit him where it hurt.

He chuckled, "I do turn down groupies. For you. Because I actually love you and care about you."

You stood there frozen in place before coming up with a response.

"Listen to me. I missed you Kirk, I really did. And you haven't called at all, so I was...starting to get lonely. I came to hang out with my friend to feel better but she just took off, and then this guy came up to me, so I couldn't just turn him down." You explained.

"I haven't seen you in two weeks, and haven't been with you in over a month. But look, and I know it sounds pathetic... When I was dancing with him," you lowered your voice, "I was pretending like it was you." You said, looking to the floor embarrassed.

You saw his feet step directly in front of you. Looking up, he hid a smile. "You were pretending it was me?" He said with a kiddish giggle.

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up..." He said, his smile fading as he looked at your lips.

Feeling hot, you couldn't help but blush as he was moving closer. Every time he was about to kiss you felt like the first time. Like he'd never done it before. Like each time he kissed you, you would forget what it felt like.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he warned, just then giving you a soft peck on the lips.

Once he pulled away, he took a step back and looked you up and down.

"You look really pretty, " he said, his eyes lingering over your breasts for a little too long.

You just wore a short simple dress. Nothing special, it just showed some cleavage.

"Sorry I didn't call... I was really fuckin' busy with the album. You know how it is... But I really missed you." He whispered, his face inches from yours as he had you trapped, his hands resting on the counter by your sides.

Something poked your tummy, both of you looking down.

"And so did he," he chuckled, looking back up to you as he pressed his lips onto yours for the second time.

This kiss got hotter a little quicker, his hands moved to the back of your thighs to pick you up and set you on the counter.

One of his hands rode up your thigh, under your dress and you felt him tug on your panties. He stopped the kiss for a second in order to focus on taking them off.

"Kirk, wait,"

He stopped and stepped back, "Are you sure we're not gonna get caught?" you said, pulling your panties all the way off because he left them in an uncomfortable position.

Kirk took that as a queue that he could continue. "Who cares? I want us to get caught. I want that guy to know who fucks you the way you like it." He kissed you once more, pushing his tongue into your mouth and drowning out any other words you tried to speak.

His hand moved back up your thigh, quickly finding your cunt and he used his thumb to rub circles over your clit.

You let out a gasp and rested your forehead on his shoulder, your hands gripping the fabric on either one.

As he massaged your sensitive bud, his other hand came up to start unbuttoning his own shirt.

"I made you this wet didn't I? Was it me or the other guy?" He huffed.

All you could do was whimper in response. He was right, only he could make you feel so good you lose a grip from reality.

"Hey, answer." He pulled his hand away, the other softly grabbing your jaw to look at him.

"Me, right? Only I can do this to you." He smirked, pressing a kiss onto your cheek like he didn't just say the most disgusting thing ever.

"Yes, Kirk," you sighed, "you made me like this."

Kirk smiled softly, just then slowly pushing two of his fingers into you at once. You closed your eyes, feeling Kirk watching your expressions.

"Feel good?" He asked, picking up his pace and resting his other hand on your lower back.

"Fuck yeah," you replied, tightening your grip on his shoulders. His fingers curled up into just the right spot, causing you to reach up and place kisses all over his neck. You stained his skin with prints of your lipstick, occasionally leaving bite marks here and there.

You heard him chuckle to himself. He knew your body so well, he knew exactly what reactions you'd have to certain things. Hell, if he was being honest, he was only using his hands just for you to kiss all over his neck, later letting everyone in the club know that he was yours.

"God, Kirk... Feels so good," you whined, resting your forehead on his bare chest. He smelled good too, he was probably wearing an expensive cologne and it just made you wetter.

"Fuck, I wanna eat you out so bad..." He whispered above your head, making you shiver.

"When we get home." He finished, pumping his fingers in you at a quick pace, enough to get you there.

"Kirk, I'm almost—"

You couldn't even finish your sentence before he pulled his fingers out.

Groaning in disappointment, you looked up at him to question why.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" You looked at him with attitude.

His face moved closer to yours, "'Cause you danced with another guy." He smiled, slowly sucking your juices off his fingers, one at a time.

"Not a reason to be a dick." You crossed your arms, looking away to avoid getting flustered.

"Yeah but definitely a reason to give you dick," he joked, beginning to unbuckle his belt.

You immediately looked down, almost reaching to help him but stopping yourself to avoid looking desperate.

"Tell me I'm the only one you want, the only one who can make you cum so good you forget about anyone else." He spoke desperately, pulling his pants and boxers down just low enough to free himself.

You didn't reply, only taking in his erection. His cock was gorgeous, it had a slight curve upwards that helped him hit your sweet spot.

"Did you hear what I said?" He said a little louder.

"Yes. Yeah Kirk," you quickly met his eyes.

They were dark with lust. "...only you can make me feel good... You're the best I ever had." You reassured him with a smile.

He sighed contently, spitting on his hand and then jerking himself before pulling you off the counter. The movement was sudden, so you held onto his chest to bring yourself back to balance. You stared at his body, the black shirt still on him although it was unbuttoned so you got that sliver of skin in the middle, revealing a light definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles.

"Turn around," he whispered, not even giving you any time, he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around, bending you over the counter.

Kirk rarely gave it to you from behind because he said it wasn't intimate enough, but when he did, it was always an amazing orgasm for the both of you.

He took a second to tease you, dragging his tip up and down your slit while smirking at you through the mirror, you looked at him unamused.

Noticing this had no effect, slowly he started pushing into you, closing his eyes and shivering at the feeling. There were faint cheers audible outside the bathroom, making you both laugh at the timing.

The DJ seemed to have turned the volume up and you listened as the club mix of Be my lover by La Bouche was playing.

"Fuck, I love this song." You let out a breath as Kirk finally bottomed out.

"Not as much as you love me though, right?" He stayed still for a moment, leaning over you and pressing his torso against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"We look so good like this," he smiled, "I love you."

"I love you too...Now can you actually fuck me please?" you begged, "I haven't had anything inside me since last time we had sex and I just need it right now."

"That's an interesting way to tell me you missed me." He chuckled leaning back up.

"Not even a toy or something...?"

"Shut up." You said, getting agitated before he pulled almost all the way out and harshly pushed himself back in.

He repeated this motion, gradually getting faster as he stared at you through the mirror.

Your breathing quickened, letting out low groans. Kirk kind of lifted one of your legs in a way, giving himself space to draw circles on your clit with his other hand.

A significantly loud moan erupted from your throat, most likely audible for anyone outside the bathroom door.

You clenched around him, making him let out a grunt, "Fuck, I missed you so much," he whined, closing his eyes as his jaw fell open, his eyebrows knitting together.

His thrusts got harder, repeatedly hitting that good spot in you.

Watching him through the mirror, you saw his eyes roll back as his face contorted into different expressions of pleasure, his shirt slipping off one of his shoulders, revealing his bicep.

You whimpered, "Kirk, I'm gonna cum," you breathed heavily.

"Please hold it for a bit, baby," He replied smiling softly at you through the mirror. But you couldn't. With a few more thrusts, your vision got almost blurry as you closed your eyes, letting go of the knot in your stomach.

"I'm sorry," you apologized.

"It's okay, now I know you really missed me if I made you cum that fast." He smirked cheekily.

Kirk stopped his movements on your clit to avoid overstimulating you, his thrusts continuing at the same hard and fast pace.

"I'm almost there," He sighed, biting his lip and letting out soft moans.

He tried going faster, making you clench around him at the sensitive feeling. The liquids from your orgasm helped lubricate his movements a lot better, but his thrusts started slowing down, getting sloppier.

"Fuck..." He whispered, "I'm gonna cum," he said, just then his hips stuttered, his eyes shutting tightly as he tensed up, his seed painting all over your insides. He kept thrusting a little more just to ride out his high. The both of you let out hard breaths as he pulled out, smiling contently at you through the mirror, caressing your hips.

You got up and he giggled, helping you clean up and handing you your panties as he pulled up his boxers and then his trousers.

You started making your way to the door before he grabbed your hand, spinning you around and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips.

"I love you." He smiled.

Smiling back, "I love you too," you responded.

"I'm sorry this was all I could give you, I just really missed the feeling of you, and I couldn't wait... But I promise when we get home, I'll treat you better." He winked.

"Kirk, it's okay." You chuckled, buttoning up his shirt, making his collar look neat. "It's not like you just treated me badly."

"Sorry," He said, watching your face as you focused on his shirt.

"What'd I ever do to deserve you..." He looked at you sadly.

"Shut up, cheeseball." You looked away as you grabbed his hand and lead him to the door, making a joke to avoid having this conversation now.

Right as you opened the door, someone walked in, looking between the both of you awkwardly, staring at the mess of lipstick all over Kirk's mouth and neck.

The woman gulped, blinking and quickly walking past you into the bathroom, Kirk just chuckled.

"You sure you don't wanna clean that up?"

"It's okay, babe, I don't care if they know what happened. At least this way they know I'm all yours," he looked down at you with those adorable eyes.

"Ugh, I hate it when you do that." You joked, looking away to hide the blood rush in your face.

You made it to the main room, walking past people to the exit.

You came across Sara, "Hey guys!" She smiled at the sight of you, "I didn't know you were back, Kirk." She greeted him with a handshake.

"Wait..." She squinted, seeing the mess of lipstick all over him, it was kind of hard to notice in the low light of the room.

"Were you the ones having a quickie in the bathroom?"

You both blushed, looking at each other awkwardly.

"Me and some other girls needed to use it but we heard some... Noises...so we didn't go in."

"Oh god." You pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed.

Kirk laughed at your reaction, "Yeah, sorry about that." He chuckled.

"Okay, we're going home now." You said, hugging Sara. Kirk waved and took your hand, following you to the door.

Of course though, the night wouldn't be over without you running by Diego.

You simply ignored him, but Kirk gave him a stare without your knowledge, trying to make the kiss marks on his neck as noticeable as possible for Diego to know only Kirk knew how to fuck you good.

Finally you exited, taking a breath of the fresh air as Kirk pressed a kiss onto your cheek.

"Ready to go home?" He smiled.

———————

thank you for reading!!!

[invsblstrngs]

INTRODUCING; LORELAI VIENNA MAXWELL

pinterest • wanted connections

BASICS

FULL NAME:  Lorelai Vienna Maxwell

NICKNAME(S): Lore, Rory, Lo.

AGE: 40

DATE OF BIRTH:  November 15 1984

CURRENT LOCATION:�� Woodside Heights, Woodside, Michigan

PLACE OF BIRTH:  Hartford, Connecticut.

ETHNICITY: Caucasian 

GENDER: cis woman

PRONOUNS: she/her

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: queer, leaning towards bisexual.

RELIGION: Raised protestant, spiritual in that she gets her card read occasionally and dabbles in manifestation.

LANGUAGES: English, French.

OCCUPATION:  paleontologist/paleontology professor at Woodside College.

Character Parallels:  dr. ellie sattler, lorelai gilmore, january andrews.

FACECLAIM: Sophia Bush

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 5'4

WEIGHT: 122 lbs

HAIR COLOR: brown/dark brown, she tends to get her hair color changed a lot.

EYE COLOR: Hazel

PIERCINGS: both of her ears are pierced three times each.

TATTOOS:  here

SCARS|MARKS: she has scattered freckles.

SIGNATURE SCENT:  Glossier You

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES: anxiety, adhd.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES:

PHOBIAS: 

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER:   Rita Victoria Maxwell (nee Lawerence)

FATHER:  Edward Charles Maxwell

CHILDREN: none

SIBLINGS:  none

RELATIONSHIPS: coming soon.

 PETS:  a calico cat named soosh (short for sushi)

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

FAVORITE FOODS:   a shrimp Caesar salad, lemony Greek potatoes, tacos al pastor, espresso martinis.

FAVORITE COLOR:  dusty lavender.

LIKES: curling up and reading during a thunderstorm, rainy days spent in a museum, that bubbly feeling having a crush gives you, the feeling of her feet burrowed into the sand on a warm day, the smell of bread fresh out of the oven, oatmilk lattes.

DISLIKES: she has a problem with authority and always has, she gets easily frustrated with ignorance, the smell of gasoline.

HOBBIES:  pilates and ballet for movement and strength, taking extra classes at the college just because she likes to learn, sewing her own clothes, though currently, she is a novice, traveling.

BIOGRAPHY

tw child birth, adhd mention?

Past

Edward Maxwell has it all, a law degree, a brand new wife, and a home he brought with his inheritance. He’s moving up and living up to the Maxwell name, establishing himself into society, in fact, he recently paid for a membership at the club for his wife and himself. All that’s left is starting a family, and carrying on the legacy. 

Connecticut, November 1984

  Rita Maxwell is giving birth to her first, and only child on the coldest November day in 5 years. She is twenty-two years old, married to the man of her dreams, living in a beautiful home, and giving birth to her perfect little girl. 

  Lorelai Vienna Maxwell is born at nine in the evening, after 36 hours, and Rita, as well as her husband Edward, are simply in love, with their little girl, with each other, and with the life they are beginning to build for themselves.

There is a certain kind of lifestyle that comes along with being the only child of Rita and Edward Maxwell, a Connecticut Society couple, and it’s learned quickly that Lorelai doesn’t exactly fit the mold as much as her mother tries to push her into it.  

  Lorelai is an enigma of a child, hyperactive and talkative, smart, sometimes too smart for her own good, but it’s the 80s and the doctors will say she’s just spirited. Somewhere down the line, when she’s 25 and fidgeting in a therapist's office, someone will mention ADHD, slide a prescription into her hand, and offer her some clarity, but we’ve got a long way to go until then.

they call her a hurricane, chaotic, feisty. Those words stick with her, and she decides that since she’s already been labeled she might as well follow through.  She is indeed, smart as a whip, and determined to boot, after all. Her mother tries to put her in white stockings for a Christmas party when she’s 6,  and she takes them off,  running off to find some way to get dirty. She’s pretty sure she liked the tights, but it was the principle of it all. Even then, Lorelai was a handful.

  As she ages, she uses the Maxwell name to get what she wants, but she still pushes the boundaries of proprietary, cutting her private school skirt shorter, listening to the god awful, in her mother's words, rock music, parties, and hookups and things her mother would simply not approve of, things her father would shake his head and sigh over. She was simply not a society girl. 

  On top of that, when her mother pushed her into Ballet or piano, debutante balls, and pageants,  she found herself gravitating towards STEM programs, a particular interest in science, and, a childhood special interest in dinosaurs, she joined the science club, and explanation, a reason for her spending so much time after school in the library. Her mother didn’t know what she was doing wrong that her daughter resisted their way of life so much.

  Family tradition was that she would go to an Ivy League, but Lorelai found herself enrolled at Wellesley College, with a focus in Biology, not exactly an ivy league, but it was the first step in her escape plan. 

  College became determination and self-discovery, she tried new things, kissed new people, boys and girls and everyone, and she tried on different hats, classes she would never take, and ones that she absolutely fell in love with, but her ideas were focused. Biology turned into paleontology, turned into grad school at the University of Michigan, further distancing herself from her parents, and their world, only really going home for holidays.  By the time she’s 30, she’s being scouted for an excursion in Morocco, and she spends four years digging, discovering, and indulging herself in her job and new experiences.  By the time she’s back home, she’s got an article published in a science journal, and a job offer on the horizon, woodside college is formidable, and she takes an offer as their resident paleontologist and paleontology professor.

present

Lorelai has been working at Woodside College for ten years, and after her sixth, she achieved tenure. When she's not teaching, she gets the chance to go on extraditions across the world, bringing her new knowledge back to the paleontology department at the college as well as the woodside museums. She lives in a two story townhouse in woodside heights with her calico cat named sushi, soosh for short.

Now that Lorelai has reached such amazing milestones in her career, she's trying to figure out what it is exactly she wants in her life, and that's currently bringing up a lot of emotions connected to expectations from her childhood.

[thestarlightsymphony]

@bebopcrew

2. Soloist/ The River

"You really think we're going to be able to see them through all this?"

"Shut up and sip your whiskey."

The night club was full of smoke and bodies. About a dozen small tables crowded the main floor; cabaret-style, they faced a main stage, only two or three chairs to a table so each seat had a clear view of the performance. Nearly every patron was smoking; the nightclub boasted its own brand of cigar, and it was popular. 

They'd secured a table near the edge of the crowd; despite the cloud of smoke impairing visibility, they were able to split their sightlines between both the audience and the bar near the back. Faye lifted her martini daintily to her lips, eyeing their fellow audience members. "How's the alley looking, Jet?" she murmured.

"As clean and crisp as a rusted sewage drain," he grumbled back through her earpiece. "Next time a bounty head frequents a nightclub like this, I call dibs on staking out the inside."

"I thought you liked playing back up," Spike whispered, hiding a grin behind his whiskey glass.

"I don't like playing back up, I like going into situations with thoughtful preparation. It's you two knuckleheads who always run in, guns blazing, and I have to play backup by process of elimination."

"That's your fault for not having enough initiative," Faye replied calmly. "Next time you find a bounty listing, you can decide who goes where. This was my lead and I'm calling the shots. now quit whining."

Onstage, some preparation appeared to be taking place. A standup mic, the vintage kind with a cord and everything, was placed center stage by a tech hand. A young woman, looking to be about Faye's age, stood to the side with an acoustic guitar. 

Spike stretched his legs under the table. "I'd only go on a date with Jet if he wears that number you had for that one masquerade."

Faye's eyes twinkled with mischief. "The one with the ruffles?"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"That one's so last season, no way. Besides, Jet would stretch it out and ruin it."

"I don't know, Faye, I think the neckline would really accentuate his broad shoulders in a nice way."

"Hmm, you may have a point there."

"Now hold on just a second---"

The nightclub lights began to dim. Spike put a finger to his earpiece. "Sorry Jet, the show's starting, can't hear you."

He muted his own mic, while simultaneously turning Jet's angry sounds of protest down to a low murmur. Faye gestured up at the woman onstage, tuning her guitar. "Don't worry, the kidnappers reportedly arrive around the second act; this is just an opener, we've got time."

Spike leaned his arm on their little table, resting his chin in his palm and shooting her a smug grin. "Oh, I'm aware. I wanted to have a little privacy for a moment."

"Oh?" Faye asked, catching a waiter's eye and drawing him to their table. "Whatever for?"

"Why did you stick Jet in the alley?"

She paused a moment, graciously nodding at the waiter replacing her martini before shooting Spike a quizzical look. "The back door to the stage is in that alley, and we're covering the front door. What kind of dumb question is that?"

"I read the bounty listing, Faye. The full one, not just the summary you rushed on Jet and I."

Recognition dawned in widened eyes. Faye found a sudden heightened interest in their tablecloth, her fake oblivious pout giving her away. "What about it?"

Spike leaned in closer, chasing her eyes. "These guys are clumsy and predictable; you could catch them both in your sleep if you wanted to. Why bother splitting the bounty three ways when you could have kept it all to yourself?"

Faye huffed irritably. "I didn't feel like putting in the effort. Why bother risking getting my hands dirty when I can have you two do the work for me?"

She turned back, flicking Spike's nose irritably. "We're already here, so we might as well go through with it. Besides, I haven't had a chance to wear this new dress yet, what do you think?"

"You used a bounty as an excuse to wear a new dress out?"

"Not entirely, but it was a good reason to. You didn't answer my question, by the way."

"And you didn't answer mine. I'll bet Jet wouldn't appreciate his current position if he knew how much those earrings cost."

Faye's mouth twitched. She lay her hand lightly over Spike's wrist, digging her nails pointedly into his skin. "Well, this was my intel, and I can do with my bounty budget what I please. At least I have some sense of propriety, unlike some people."

Spike winced. He placed his free hand over Faye's, attempting to pry it up. "What are you talking about?"

"Your suit."

"My suit? What's wrong with my suit? I went out and got a new one, just like you demanded!"

"You can't just buy a suit and not iron it, you idiot. I didn't even know a suit could be that wrinkled."

"Oh, now my tie's the problem?"

They paused their hushed debate as another waiter passed by. He gestured at Spike's glass; Spike nodded and smiled amicably, rubbing his thumb over the back of Faye's hand still digging holes into his wrist. Once the waiter was gone, Faye retrieved her hand and glared at him. "You have the social decorum of a mountain goat."

"Better than a cat that should be declawed," Spike grumbled back, rubbing at his wrist.

"I thought you hated cats?"

"I do."

"Could have fooled me; you seemed very interested in mine last night."

Faye grinned, victory dancing in her eyes. Spike's tongue stuck in his cheek; he was fighting valiantly against a smile crossing his own face and losing. Accepting defeat, he rolled his eyes and leaned forward, kissing Faye on the cheek. "You win, Valentine."

He sat back in his chair, allowing himself a mini-victory as Faye blushed furiously and attempted to hide behind her martini. "You look beautiful," he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

She kept her eyes fixed on the musician onstage, feigning indifference. "There, was that so hard?"

"Did you just want an excuse to go out on a date?"

"With you? Please."

Spike leaned in and kissed her again. "Why not? I can be charming."

Faye gritted her teeth, her blush deepening. "I'd rather go on a date with Ein."

"So you don't like it when I kiss you?"

"Not in public like a teenager, now stop it. You're disturbing the other patrons."

Spike rolled his eyes, glancing around at the other tables. There were indeed a couple tables glancing at them, though most seemed to be the women out of envy more than annoyance. He waved lightly at them, grinning as their snooping neighbors turned quickly back to the woman onstage. She was starting a second song, and Spike resigned himself to listen for a little while.

The song washed over the club, mixing with the smoke and high-end perfumes enveloping the audience. It seemed to be an old song, Faye's type of old.

You had a choice I couldn't make

And this is the last turn that you take

On a lonely, lonely, lonely road

The soloist played it slow, a lilting melancholy heavy in her voice. The audience sat captivated, and despite himself, Spike felt himself drawn in as well.

Give me your hand, here is my heart

Where does it end? When do we start?

On a lonely, lonely, lonely road

Faye's hand found his on their table, and she laced their fingers together. No fear of claws now, she'd been drawn in as well.

If I follow you to the river

Send my blues out to the sea

Will you stay with me forever?

Will you chase me in my dreams?

Spike's hand clenched reflexively, but Faye kept her grip soft.

If I throw it all in the river

And let the rhythm take the lead

Will it stay with you whenever

That you lean on me?

Ooh, I know, I know

Ooh, I know

The soloist's playing grew in intensity, her eyes closed tight as she sang her chorus again. The lyrics drew something from deep inside the audience, especially the pair of bounty hunters sheltered in the corner. Faye rested her head on Spike's shoulder, the weight grounding him back as the tune threatened to pull him away.

As the soloist's performance drew to a close, the door near the back of the club cracked open. Faye lifted her head and glanced back, nudging Spike with her shoulder. He barely turned his head; two men had just slipped in, creeping in to take a seat just two tables across from them.

"Just like the intel said," Faye whispered.

Spike nodded wordlessly. Faye laid her hand against his arm. "You alright?"

He nodded again, sneaking one last kiss before downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's showtime."

In the river, your reflection

Is a promise you couldn't keep

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know

I lost you here

--

Fictional and loving it.

 

"The most dangerous thing one can possess is the genius of Einstein, Shakespeare, Tolkein, Ben Franklin, and C.S. Lewis, and the imagination and creativity of a five-year-old."

[bookishwum]

Shepherd opened his mouth, but closed it again. Then he did something I’d never seen before. He smiled. Shepherd Calloway actually smiled.

— Faking Ms. Right, Claire Kingsley

[rivetgoth]

It feels kinda crazy to already be nostalgic for such a recent period of my life but god this song came out in late 2022 (I was at the release show at a venue that doesn’t exist anymore, it was probably one of the last concerts put on there) and in the first half of 2023 I heard it at the club probably at least weekly because at the time there was this tiny local goth night happening at this small bar downtown and one of the DJs there was friends with Madeline. Sometimes she’d play it twice in one night lol. This night was so small that like a good 75% of the time the only people who went were me, Angel, Jason, and the people running the damn event, so we got to know all of them. We’d get other people out as often as possible and any time someone else did show up we were pretty much guaranteed to become friends lmao. It was cute though, they played a lot of local music and the bar itself was a cocktail bar so there were some cute drinks. The bartenders were kinda terrible though LOL they would constantly get people’s drinks completely wrong, like tequila instead of whiskey or vodka sours instead of dirty shirleys, or one time Jason ordered a beer and they were out of whatever he ordered so they just silently handed him something else 😭 That year it rained for months straight so I just remember week after week going downtown parking in the same spot walking a couple of blocks in the rain and hearing this song in this tiny empty bar with a kinda bad espresso martini. The club shut down (unsurprising) about halfway into the year and I did not miss a single night, literally from the conception to the closure I was there every Tuesday.

[gothwives]

closed: @persephonyed​ who: buffy bloom, she/her, 26, exotic dancer/adult film star

one thing buffy could always count on whenever some stupidly rich bastard invited her to attend this sort of hoity-toity high society functions was an open bar. it made perfect sense, considering these people were all so insufferable, it’d take at least a few shots of hard liquor or several glasses of overpriced champagne to tolerate being around each other. running into anyone she knew in her real life was out of the question, so she had no problem drinking a few too many cocktails just to make it through the night. imagine her surprise when she looked to her left halfway through an extra dirty martini, and happen to lock eyes with a man she’d just met at work less than a week ago. it wasn’t the most common for her to recognize customers outside of the club, but this particular patron was one she could never forget. her first time getting fucked in the back of a bmw was an experience that’d stick with her until she was old and grey, all memories fading except the image of his face while in the throes of passion. he clearly recognized her as well, given the way his features lit up when their eyes met. “i’m sorry... do i know you?” question was posed through gritted teeth, silently pleading him not to make a scene.