#go fuckin bird watching.

[elizabro]

the main problem is there are too many great books, movies, video games, comics, TV shows, music, sports, languages, musical instruments, crafts, and various hobbies that I could get into and I want to get into all of them. the human lifespan is only about 80 years unfortunately AND I'm prone to both accidents and lapses in resolve

[theinfinitedivides]

admitting this on this hellsite so i can be held accountable and then i shall never speak of it again but i need to hear Springsteen curse more. sorry. studio recordings live performances song intros audience bootlegs his fucking audiobook for his biography which i probably need to get i simply do not care. let that man say whatever he wants

[dragonboots]

I think the movie strange magic shaped my moral code fundamentally. It was also my first experience of kelly clarkson and the goth aesthetic so positives all around.

[kedreeva]

So of the two people in the entire USA that are currently breeding Ultramarine (think, peacock with the blue cranked to 13), the one I'm not friends with has just listed up a 2024 cock for auction. It's going to be interesting to see the end price, as this will determine the 2025 price of the mutation (and its rate of decline, as last year was the first year any were available ever).

Last year the auction ended at $6,800 for one male. In a really funny (to me) twist, he sent a blue to the winner instead of an ultramarine, because despite gloating that he was able to tell and my friend wasn't, he couldn't tell the difference in yearlings, either. It'll be EXTREMELY FUNNY if he does the same fuckin' thing this year. (and he did replace the bird, so the winner got the right bird eventually, it was just. very embarrassing for the self-proclaimed leader of peafowl breeding to be so wrong after bragging so much).

If you, like me, are nosy and want to keep an eye on the auction (and the others with het birds) and see where it ends, here is a link!

For reference, this is an ultramarine feather:

And this is an ultramarine bird from my friend's stock:

But they look almost exactly the same as blues when they're babies, and only start to really look different as 2yo birds.

So, it'll be interesting to watch go down again.

There's also a listing on here for UM feathers, I believe he's selling a dropped train, but I'm not sure of the number of feathers included in the lot, so maybe ask before spending a lot.

[daemonbrain]

"One of me is cute but two though!"

2.4k, cw: breeding kink, smut, kinda baby trapping (?), not proofread

a/n: based off Juno by Sabrina Carpenter hehe happy reading :)

Simon would go to the ends of the earth for his bird. You wanted to watch your favorite movie for the millionth time with him? Done. You were craving take out from that special spot across town in the middle of the night? He’s placing your order and grabbing his keys to go pick it up after a quick goodbye kiss. You wanted him to kill a little red-haired prick who got too close to you -grazed your arm- yesterday at 17:37 while in a crowded line when he went to the loo, with his bare hands? Fan-tastic. (He may be projecting a little)

But he was worried. He might not be the most perceptive man, but he wasn’t so thick headed he couldn’t see the signs.

The way you made googly eyes at every baby you passed by. Fuck sakes he had never seen so. many. babies. 

Little things everywhere nowadays, though it might just be he’s now paying enough attention to notice. It definitely helped the unintentional search that your grip on his arm tightened every time you saw one. Your soft coos as you turned to him to say for a third time in a row that the babe was the “cutest thing you had ever seen”.

He loved you like he loved his gun after it got him out of a tough spot (he loved you more, but he's pretty poor at putting an example on it), but there was one thing he was wholly unsure he could give you. Being a father has never been something he was sure of, his own making his childhood a living hell assuring him that it wasn’t in his genes or anywhere in his future. He came to terms with that years ago and shoved the idea out of his mind entirely. 

As you both sat down at a coffee shop while taking a break from your park walk, you just happened to get seated right next to another woman, a stroller in your direct view.

Fuckin’ great.

Biting your lip you take a peek at the chubbiest little thing in a deep sleep. Catching the gaze of the mother you smile. “She’s adorable” you chirped. 

As the mother responded with a smile of her own, Simon felt a foot gently nudging his leg as gave him the prettiest eyes. Did you even try to hide it anymore? No, you really didn’t. Eyes filled with thinly veiled intentions, eyes that said “Look how cute! Jump across this table and give me one now,” 

“Isn’t she cute Si?!”

He sighed and replied in his usual grumble, “course, ‘er little jumper is nice.” Tactics. Swiftly move out from the topic and do not let the missus see the little bows… on the jumper… he just pointed- for fucks sake you saw it.

After quite some time giggling with the mother over photos, because of course that had to be the natural progression of things, Simon observed in his characteristic shadow-like demeanor before the little one began to fuss in her sleep. The mother excused herself and the babe to nurse and it’s then you finally turn back to your silent companion with your usual beaming.

“ ‘avin fun there, yeah?” He laughed which came out more as a snort as you mockingly kicked him under the table.

“I am as a matter of fact!”

Pulling his hands into the air in surrender he looks you head on. “Okay, I get it.”

“The baby was just so- ugh! Did you see how chubby she was? Her little hair.. Gosh!” Stay on task. Do not get distracted by the target's beautiful smile or laugh. Someone had to be the voice of rationale after all.

“Like I said ‘er jumper was nice, luv.”

When the pout came to your lips, he considered it a success (you were hot either way) and chalked the whole thing as a minor bump in the road. Whatever this baby fever was would pass.

Nonetheless, he should’ve known his bird better than that. She wasn’t a quitter, that’s for damn sure. As you cooked up dinner in that cute apron and served it plated up so nicely it dawned on him just how… domestic this all was.

It was nice, he concluded. Calm.

You remained pensive and quiet for the most part during dinner, clearly desperate to say what you had been on your mind for weeks. He could see the way your mind's gears turned, wanting to blurt it out. Like an animal going feral at the bars of its cage. Except your the animal and your cage is the inherent trust you will not go awol and chuck your birth control pills into the trash while he’s not watching.

“Simon…” 

Here it comes.

Simon grunted out his response while chewing on his food, looking up to meet your cautious gaze. Leaning across the table you gently lay your hand on his which held his fork, pushing it down.

“I’ve been thinking… a lot lately.” There you went with that look again. “Have you… ever thought of kids before? I- I know we’ve had this talk before… but-”

“C’mere.”

He outstretched his big arms and patted his lap. With quick acceptance you hurried over and let him pull you on top of him, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on your ass for support. The deep kneading of it was also for support of course. 

“You know how I feel about them. ‘Is jus not somethin I think about, luvie.” He didn’t dare look away from your eyes. If he was about to take that gleam out of your eyes he at least owed it to you to watch.

You grabbed his face with a light touch and caressed the stubble which had begun to grow with a look beginning to resemble a spot of desperation. Pressing yourself further into his body, you couldn’t help your protests.

“Si.. I just- I want one so bad.” You began to slide your hand down the side of his neck, pressing forward to gently place a kiss. Leaning your forehead in the junction between his shoulder and neck you continued before he could respond.

“Don’t you? A little baby with us all the time.”

Someone had to be the voice of reason and Simon was going to have to put his foot down on this.

“You’re not thinkin straigh’, luv. It would be cute-” He was cut off in shock as he felt the slight rock of your hips as you cowered into his shoulder.

“Just imagine it! One of me is cute enough, but two!” The pace began to speed up as you blatantly started grinding against him. He let out a little huff. Voice of reason. Though his reason was nowhere to be found when he put his hand that was idly on the chair to your backside to encourage the movement.

You knew what came next, you had to sweeten the pot. You knew you were being mean, but you just had to! You were practically given no choice!

“Don’t you want that Si! Don’t you wanna make something together?” You all but pleaded. He looked straight past your head with a crumbling steely demeanor. Fuck.

You already began to tug at his shirt and with a final glare, Simon couldn’t help but look at his pretty bird. His pretty bird on top of the prize she coveted, heat passing between their bodies. Just one time. One time and then they could talk about this properly. 

Simon gathered you up in his arms and stood while pressing an eager kiss to your lips. It was a soft and long thing as he brought you both to the bedroom you shared. He threw you down on the bed and stripped himself as you excitedly did the same.

Smiling up at him as if you won. You did not win. This was not a win, right? You were on your birth control either way, he would pull out as needed. What harm is there in fucking his own girl.

Pushing you on to your back he parted your legs to look what lay between them. There was the prize he was most proud of. Puffy cunt at the mercy of the cool air being pushed out by the vents. You were already beginning to shine.

“You were just waiting for it weren’t you? Knew I couldn’t leave you hanging, yeah?”

With a giggle you spread your thighs further and wiggled your hips teasingly. Simon dropped to his knees and pulled your body to the edge of the bed. Throwing each of your legs on either of his shoulders he spit into your cunt, taking two thick fingers and rubbing it in, catching on to your hole lightly as he played with the slick. He could see the way your stomach tightened as he circled your clit and he winded you up further when he firmly flicked it.

“Si” you whined.

“Wha’ is it?” He grinned as he lowered his head to press a kiss down. Devolving from a kiss, he grabbed onto one of your thighs with a strong grip and began to sloppily lick while you let out your breathy little moans, sensitive to the absolute tank holding you still as he ate straight from the source.

He licked and it just kept going. Dragging his tongue around your cunt, up to your puffy clit. He harshly sucked as he latched on to it drawing a cry from your vulnerable form. Tugging at his hair, he only looks up with his eyes, refusing to pull away his mouth. 

Shaking your head with wide eyes you couldn’t help but push your fluffy little agenda.

“Si please. Please. Please, I need it! I’d never ask for anything else-” you moaned in surprise once again as he added a finger into your hole. Willing himself to pull away from you, Simon continued to fuck his finger into you as he spoke up, spittle and slick coating his mouth. He had to switch gears, use logic (and cum) to deter you.

“We’d never have time. All this?-” He added another finger into your clenching pussy “Gone. We’d be cleaning spit up instead.”

“We’d have a baby!” You exclaimed insistently.

You were practically off the edge, usually by now Simon had you fucked into your own little world. This incessant begging for a little one of your own is keeping you sharper than usual. He’d fix that.

“Please Simon” You pulled him up, the strain of his cock to be inside you encouraging him to follow your movements. He looked at you pretty tits, pretty like everything else on you. Taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling hard.

“These’d get all full.”

Fuck that backtracked his own point. His mind fighting back the onslaught of thoughts at the sight of your tits growing round and heavy because of something he could do. Would your body get all soft- NO.

Lining himself up and looking at that pleading expression, the only time he’d ever seen you so wanting of something you were willing to roll around with nothing else on your mind.

“Just one Si, just one with your eyes your nose your hair-” Your breath went short as he pushed himself in, giving shallow thrusts to feed into your aching cunt. Recomposing yourself you gripped on to his bicep, “Just do it, lock me down tonight.”

Simon couldn’t help the way he subconsciously began pushing your thighs up to give himself a deeper angle, your ankles dangling weightlessly above your head, knees to your chest. The groans which sounded through the room as his hips hammered into you in a desperate chase. 

The two of you could do nothing but stare into each other's eyes, losing yourselves in each other while your cunt squeezes him like a vice. Determined to keep him there, body obstinately stuck on one thing.

 Someone had to be the voice of reason. Someone had to object to a little one with his eyes and your personality. Someone had to be rational and not think about painting the nursery while you waddled about. Someone had to remain level-headed and not imagine the way your eyes would light up with unfettered joy.

You tossed your head back and he couldn’t help but grip your face in his hand, tugging it right back to him.

“With me luv, with me. Look at me.”

Someone had to be rational.

Nodding your head shakily you keep your eyes on the massive man pounding away at you, feeling the way your stomach bulges trying to accommodate all of him, your cunt coaxing him further into the sticky trap.

Your body begging for one thing, you looked like you needed it. Tongue lolling out of your mouth as you were fucked stupid, sweat collecting on your brow. You looked perfect. Your whining swallowed by his own mouth when he presses another kiss to your swollen lips, body enduring in hopes the fat cock ruthlessly disturbing its peace would grant it the big load it craved.

Someone had to be rational?

Maybe it was the way you sucked him in, the way he couldn’t stop thrusting into you, but it’s as if your body sent some message to the receptors in his mind. All that flashed before him images of happy and full and with his baby.

As if you could sense his thoughts, your own peak quickly overcame you white hot. The way you spasmed around him with a loud cry of pure ecstasy.

“Give it to me!” You somehow managed. His mind went blank as drunk off the pleasure as you were, the only thing he could do was thrust, unable to comprehend anything else.

 A shame Simon couldn’t be rational when it came to his bird.

With the final slam of his hips, his release went into the deepest depths of you. His grip on your hips burning from how tight it was as he kept himself flush against you.

It took a few moments to come down from the high. Simon looked at your sweaty face, hazy from lack of energy. Maybe you did win this one, but he really didn't get all this effort (not that he was complaining) if you were still on birth control.

Birth control... which he hasn't had to remind you to take for quite some time...

Out of pure curiosity at his realization, he gently pushed the two of you further up the bed while keeping you plugged up. Opening the first drawer he manages to grab the box which contained your birth control pills. Upon further inspection, he notices it remains unopened and untouched. Shaking his head with a gruff laugh he peers down at you as you shiver from the rumble.

“Dirty girl”

You just smiled.

[circe69]

simon ghost riley and pr!mal play fuck yeah

cw: unprotected p in v, rough!sex, predator/prey, dubcon-non, primal play obvi (girl run slower c’mon now)

uhhhh, he’s right behind me isn’t he? ~(>_<~)

“i’ll give you three fuckin’ seconds to run.”

shit.

you stumble back on the wet forest floor, leaves crumbling beneath your feet. simon stood 3 steps away from you, and all he wanted was to fuck you into the ground.

but a good hunter likes to play with his food first.

“one,” he starts as your breath comes out in distorted pants. you’re so excited, so scared, the adrenaline mixed with the intense lust is running through your blood like fire.

“two,” he takes a step towards you. you’re terrified but you want to egg him on. you want to make him angry. wanna make him punish you. you slowly peel off your sweatshirt, revealing your skin-tight tank top.

simon’s anger (and his cock) was begging him to take you right there. he smirked and shook his head, he couldn’t believe what a fucking. brat. you. were.

“three.”

you jumped into a sprint, running as fast as you could and lunging through trees. even though you were running faster than you thought was humanly possible, simon’s footsteps were still right on your tail.

he was swift and silent, and it wasn't until you turned a sharp corner to avoid hitting a tree that you felt two large forearms wrap around your middle.

your scream could've been heard from miles away, causing birds to flee from their nests. ghost flung you against the nearest tree stump and held you with one hand clenched onto your stomach as your feet dangled nearly a foot above the ground.

"why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult," he grunted out as he stripped your pants off with one hand.

you were still struggling to breath, "simon, no-"

"too late for no's, bitch."

you squealed as he tossed you onto the ground, a small tear coming from the corner of your eyes as you went slack jawed watching simon remove his shirt. he started laughing at the sight, "heh, just like you. just like you to dish it and not fuckin' take it. do you see this, y/n?" he grabbed you by a fistful of hair and shoved it down so you were eye level with his painfully hard dick. "you see it? this," he slammed a knee between your thighs, shoving it against your clit as you let out a small sob, "is what you did to me."

no matter what sound was coming out of your mouth, your pussy couldn't lie; if simon were to drag a finger through your slit, it would come back dripping.

"'m sorry, simon, sorry, sorr-"

the sound of his pistol cocking interrupted your pleas. he crawled over you and petted the top of your head, smoothing the stray hairs. “aww, you’re sorry? how sweet,” you felt the head of his gun hit your hip.

“pull my fucking cock out of my pants and if you take your eyes off ‘a mine, you’re dead.”

you scramble, with fat tears streaming out your eyes and down your jaw, as you unzip his cargo pants and pull out his hard length. you never looked away, and scary enough, neither did he.

only when you wrapped your palm around the base of him did he drop is head into the crook of your neck and groan, “fuck,” he whispered, before leaving an open-mouthed kiss under your jaw.

“you going soft on me?” you said quietly.

“if i was going soft, this pussy,” he shoved two fingers inside of you with no warning, and all you could hear was an embarrassingly loud squelch, proving just how much you wanted this, wanted him. “would sound a lot different.”

“no matter how sweet you are,” simon removed his fingers and replaced it with the head of his dick, forcing a gasp out of you,” n’matter how sick you think i am, you like being prey, you like being caught and gutted from the inside out, isn’ that right baby?”

there was no denying it, and even if you did, your pussy would suggest otherwise.

simon riley was right.

[blondieeu]

early bird. katsuki b.

katsuki knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew your preferences, style, personality, even memorized your social security number since you always forgot it. he’d lived with you for damn near 5 years now.

“katsuki”

so when you wake him up in the late hours of the night, all needy and pent up he shouldn’t be surprised, he doesn’t even bother getting angry at you because you always tended to get needy in the night.

you shook him softly, his back turned to you as you tried to wake him. his body rising and falling with quiet snores that became irregular when you shook him.

“katsuki?”

“mm”

“katsuki!”

“what’s wrong”

he didn’t even bother opening his eyes, still laying there like a rock as he waiting for a response from you.

“can we fuck? please katsuki”

the male sighed and lazily grabbed his phone from the nightstand, squinting hard just to see the time. 2:06AM.

“you can’t sleep?”

the silence in the air already told him the answer, katsuki didn’t bother to keep questioning you as he began to shuffle out of his boxers.

“take your panties off.”

he muttered, helping you on your back and pulling the green underwear off your ankles, not without noticing the wet part on the middle of them and giving you a ‘you needed me that bad?’ look. he put your hand around his cock gesturing for you too put it in since he was too tired to find the hole.

bakugou moaned as he settled himself into your sopping cunny, strong hands almost making dents in the headboard as he rocked his hips into yours and watching your slick create thin strings between you and him.

your legs were loose around his waist, toes curling everytime he let himself go deep with your hands touching at his chest and stomach.

“shit.. pussy make me wan’ give you a fuckin’ baby.”

he grunted the words out with a small shake in his voice, like he was trying to hold back a couple moans. he tiredly let his head fall in between his strong, well built arms that held the headboard as he looked down at your face, eyes teary and mouth half opened while you clenched around his cock.

katsuki sat up from his position with hard-to-silence heaves to pull the black wife beater he had on over his head and throw it somewhere across the room as his body temperature started to rise.

he secured his position by grabbing onto your sides so he could fuck you harder. needy moans filled the warm room along with the quiet sound of skin connecting. you could’ve sworn that you went mute every couple of minutes from the surges of pleasure he was feeding into your cunny. wait could you hear how wet you were?

your long time boyfriend gave a lazy smile as he leaned down to make out with you as an attempt to get you quiet so you could her your cunny talk to him as well. quiet squelching could be heard if you really did listen in detail.

“hear her singin’ ? s’ all you—…shit girl..gets this bad at night?”

your pretty eyes were rolling as you tried your best to nod, barely even hearing him while you were concentrated on not cumming too fast and trying not to squirt since you knew you forgot towels. still, loud pornographic moans bounced off of your bedroom walls.

“y..es..kat-suki..”

“alright. ima take care of it baby”

a/n: i refuse to write a whole smutshot!!!!!

aizawa ver

blondieeu xx

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

[rafescvntyclubgf]

"𝐘𝐨𝐮" - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐩 | 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 | 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 | 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬

*Rafe is in his 40s

𝖈𝖔-𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍: @nadvs

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝓌𝑜

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers ⚠️

Stalker!Rafe, Perv!Rafe, reader is Rafe’s friend’s sister, swearing, Rafe is a perv, age gap, public masterbation, fantasies about the reader, blood, mentions of murder, mentions of gun violence, mentions of general violence, suicide attempt, Rafe goes through her phone, peeping Tom, steals nude pictures, watches the reader masterbate, praise, Rafe’s POV

📖 College Professor Rafe Cameron has been dating you for months. You just don’t know it yet.💋

🔪 I smile when you look over your shoulder, the light pouring in from outside the lecture shining on you like a beacon. A fuckin’ angel on earth. My girl. 🔪

🔪Hello, You.🔪

6.8 K

Rafe’s POV:

“Oh, shit.” I look out on the lecture hall, crammed wall to wall—mostly old birds and a few young professors sprinkled amongst the AARP members. Jesus Christ. I match the eyes of one of my old lecturers from my time here. She gives me a little smile, and I nod, making a blush creep across her wrinkled cheeks before the lights fall low.

Do I deserve my name on a plaque on an office door at this fine university? Absolutely fucking not. But I paid for the building after all… American History; all first-years. You can’t mess that shit up.

I relax into the wall a bit, accepting my fate, lifting my coffee to my lips, taking a sip. “R.” I hear a familiar voice. A couple of heads turn toward me, leading me to a familiar face. I smile and chuckle as I shuffle toward the aisle, scooching through the crowd.

“Hey, man,” I greet him, shaking his hand before slipping my leather bag off my shoulders, taking a seat.

“R.C.,” he breathes, surprised to see me here, happy nonetheless.

“Zachary.”

“Guess they're hiring anyone these days,” he taunts, jabbing me in the side playfully, making me snort out a lazy laugh. I can’t lie; I’m happy to see him here. One friend is plenty. The guy is a fuckin’ nerd, but he’s a good person. “Pretty sure we both had class in this lecture hall,” he sighs blissfully, recalling a simpler time.

“Yeah, man. I think we did… How long have you been workin’ here for?” I ask between sips of coffee.

“Ten years.”

“Jesus, man,” I huff. We've been outta school for that long, huh?

“Nah, buddy,” he groans. “Longer. Started working here right after graduation. Been workin’ my way up the ladder ever since.”

“That’s great,” I nod, watching our Dean of Students strut across the hall's main floor. “You like it here?”

“Love it,” he smiles. “Why are you here?” Zach furrows his brows, asking the question he wanted to ask from the beginning. It’s no secret I got money to spare. There’s gotta be some reason I’m here. I’m sure he’s curious.

“I got bored. Thought I’d go back to school; just did it casually. N’here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echos through a weak laugh. “I mean, you own the place at this point. Huh?” Zach wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

“Almost,” I chuckle, fully aware that the Cameron Library and The Cameron School of Business makes this current faculty position a little absurd.

“Glad to have you here. Truly,” he adds earnestly.

“Good to be here, man,” I smile as I relax into my seat a little more, getting ready for a day of gettin’ talked at, I’m sure. Zach adjusts in his seat, pulling his phone out of his slacks, thumbing over his messages.

Sis: Did you want anything to eat?

Zach: Nah. I’m fine.

Sis: Sounds good. Black coffee, two creams, two sugars?

Zach: Please and thank you.

“So…” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “Do you have any family here? You married or what-” I question, trying to be as calm as possible.

“Nah… Not really the marriage type. Family, yeah, my sister goes here now.”

”No shit?” I ask, trying not to be too interested, but I can’t help but catch his lock screen. Him and an absolutely stunning woman posed next to each other in front of the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto. They weren’t cuddled up with each other, just smiling… That smile. I run my hands down my shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles, raking my fingers through my hair, pushing it back slightly. Please be her.

“She’s a Kappa Girl.”

“Not a Kappa Girl,” I taunt through an exaggerated groan. He scoffs and rolls his eyes away. If it was anything like it was back in the day that house in nothin’ short of a brothel.

“She isn’t like that, Cameron,” he drones. “She doesn’t even live at the house. She’s got good grades. Like good good. Fuckin’ great actually—above a 4.0. They recruited her. The Kappas took some heat after gettin’ in trouble a few too many times. They were gonna lose their charter, so they switched from a social sorority to one based in education. Fuckin’ nerds,” he adds, making me chuckle, dissing her just like I had dissed him just a few short minutes before.

“Runs in the family. Huh?”

“Fuck off,” he snickers. Zach hangs his head low, pitching the bridge of his nose as he lets out an exhausted sigh.

“You good?”

He nods and yawns, eyes set on the speaker up front. “These old bitches can go fuckin’ hard. We went to Lord Fletcher’s last night. Janice over there can drink you under the table… Six advils today already. Y/n is comin’ over with a coffee for me. Thank god. I’m hurtin’ over here,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Zach’s eyes brighten as he looks toward the lecture steps. I feel my heart racing in my chest, my palms sweating, almost too nervous to look. I mean, that could have been his ex-girlfriend. But what if it’s the best-case scenario? What if it’s her? What if she’s you, princess? I turn my attention to the end of the aisle, watching that same girl shuffle along the line of people, clutching coffees, doing her best not to spill.

Fuck me.

My eyes travel up your body, your bare legs on full display, making my stomach fill with butterflies. You lean in, your sweet perfume amplified by the warmth of your flawless body from the late August heat. The second the coffee leaves your hand, I’m trying to get your attention on me. “I’m Rafe,” I smile, extending my hand toward you.

You juggle your books and your own coffee in your hands clumsily, extending a hand as well, making me instantly feel bad for putting you through the hassle, but the contact is worth it— soft and smooth, a firm grip on mine. You bat your long lashes at me. I can’t tell if you’re just trying to get a better look in the dim light or if you like what you see, but my heart is racing regardless.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rafe,” you reply, talking directly to me… “See you at home,” you whisper to Zach, who gives you a little wave as he swipes through his phone again. I smile when you look over your shoulder, the light pouring in from outside the lecture shining on you like a beacon. A fuckin’ angel on earth. My girl.

Hello, you.

It’s been sixty-seven days since we met—sixty-seven beautiful days of studying my favorite subject. You’re lovely, princess. Everything about you is. Even the little things you do out of habit. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re stressed, lips pursed, eyes wide. I know every look, every smile, taking each beautiful change of your face into memory. I can read you like a book.

I wanted it to be natural. How blatantly obvious would it be if I rushed into rekindling a friendship with your brother just to rush into a relationship with you? I had to ease in. Infiltrate the family; make myself a staple in your home so I could learn more about you.

There’s no one else better suited for you than me, baby. There is no one that will anticipate your needs like I can. Take care of you like I will. I’m going to make my move… I just need a little more time. I don’t want to lose the part of you that I get to see when you don’t know I’m watching.

I tilt back, relaxing into the doorframe of Zach’s office as I wait for you to stop by with his lunch. You’re so sweet. I know you’re cuttin’ it close with you’re next class. Fuck, my girl’s thoughtful. I smile to myself, lowering my head to not bring too much attention to myself.

“Who’s got you smilin’ like that, buddy?”

Shit. I look down at the phone, thumbing out of your Instagram, moving to Tinder. “Uh, I just matched with that bartender at Lord Fletchers. I think,” I mumble, giving him a slight smile.

“Juliette?” He asks surprisedly. “Isn’t she datin’ the head football coach?”

My stomach sinks, caught in a simple, stupid lie. “Nah, not her. A different one. I don’t know,” I brush him off, furthering my disinterest by pretending to swipe through some more.

Oh, shit. Here you come. I lift my eyes, matching yours. Your smile doubles as I catch your attention. “Hi, Rafe,” you sing. My name rolling off your lips so sweetly. Oh my god.

“Hi, y/n,” I respond warmly. Your hand snakes around my waist, squeezing me. “You ready for that test tomorrow?”

You sucks your teeth and shake your head. “Not ready enough to go on a date tonight, I don’t think. But I haven’t gone out in so long… I think it would be good for me to give my brain a rest the night before, don’t you?” You ask as your stunning eyes soften on mine, looking up at me for approval as I try my best not to fall apart in front of you or, at the very least, lose my shit. How did I miss this?

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I press the words past my lips. You smile and nod before setting the food down on the desk. “Well, I gotta run-”

”See you tonight?” I add hastily, trying to get more info about your plans just in case.

“We got that intramural basketball game tonight,” Zach reminds me, making my palms sweat just knowing that if the date is early enough, I won’t be able to tag along or intervene.

“Chett said 9 PM at Little Angie’s.”

“Chett? As in Chett Ryan?” I ask in disbelief as you mention the star quarterback. A good-looking dude, but he’s a fucking idiot and a Grade-A asshole. You’re way too good for him. He doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t even deserve to breathe your air-

“Yeah,” you answer through a smile, yanking me out of my thoughts.

“Well, I’m goin’ to Lexi’s house, so you and Chett will have the place to yourselves if you wanna come back after the bar,” Zach chimes in. My body trembles with rage, holding back every urge to crawl over the top of his desk and choke him out for even suggesting it.

“It’s our first date, so I don’t know if that’ll happen but thank you,” you smiles giddily, making me physically ill. ”Shit,” you hiss, your attention pulled to your watch, clocking the time. “I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rafe, for the test,” you add breathlessly as you race away, fleeing for class.

“You proctoring tests now?” Zach laughs lightly, furrowing his brows.

“Ah, yeah,” I whirr, scratching at my 5 o’clock shadow, trying to find an excuse while also trying to gather my emotions as my whole world crumbles around me. “I-I owed Steve a favor for covering my class last week,” I stutter, confessing half the truth. Sure, Steve subbed for me, but only so I could follow y/n on her trip to Georgia Tech for the football game to ensure she was safe… Zach should be thanking me, honestly. Fuck off. The football game… I bite at the skin on my lip, putting together the pieces of why you had even gone in the first place. For him. For Chett… No, baby. Why?

“Cameron?” Zach chimes in. “You’re a little more dazed than usual, friend. You good?” He asks through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, man. I’m good,” I nod. “It’s only a few hours.”

“What?” Zach asks confusedly.

“Proctoring…”

”Yeah…” He nods, his face laced with concern for me; I don’t even know how long I was drowning in my thoughts of her. I’m sure he’s wondering what’s going through my mind— why I’m acting weird. “You sure you're good? You seem upset.”

”Nah, man. I’m good. Just have some shit goin’ on I need to take care of,” I smile softly. “See you tonight?”

“Yeah… See you tonight, brother.”

“These are nice,” I breathe as I run my fingers along the pink petals with a smile, the spray of roses sitting pretty amongst the rest. “These, thanks.” I pull them out, handing them to the attendant, finishing into my back pocket for my wallet.

I head out the door, walking out onto the street; the busy college town teaming with students, pouring in and out of the bars. Cigarette smoke wafts all around, competing with the aroma of the late-night food trucks. I look ahead, catching the Little Angie’s neon boot sign kicking ahead. My excitement builds as I get closer and closer. You’re here. I look down at my phone, catching your location in the heart of the bar—my girl.

Shit. I look down at my other hand, tossing the wildflowers Chett had gotten you. He doesn’t know you at all… He doesn't know what you like. He doesn't deserve you. No one does. No one but me.

I push through the front door, heading back toward the bar as I match your pin to my surroundings. My eyes pull taunt as I try to spot you through the thick crowd. I take a seat, ordering a beer before turning my attention back to the search. My eyes work across the low-lit room, scouring for you. I can’t believe you’re still here after he stood you up. It’s almost like you knew I’d come and save you, princess.

There you are. Fuck, are you even real?

When I’m around you I swear I forget how to breathe. I find myself having to tear myself away—telling myself that staring too hard will do nothing but bring attention to the obvious, but I am so in love. How do I even look away? You’re perfect.

You looks sad. I know that’s my fault, pretty girl, but I promise I’ll make it all better. You rest your cheek in your hand, slumped over in your seat, swirling your vodka cranberry defeatedly. Your beautiful eyes glisten. I can’t tell if it’s just sheer beauty or if they might be glossed with tears. Your eyes shut heavily, shoulders relaxing a little more as you submit to your drunken state.

Oh, sweetheart. You need me.

“Can I close out my tab?” I ask the bartender, who gives me a little nod and a smile. I turn my attention back to you, watching as you sway ever so slightly with the music pouring from the speakers.

“Here you are, sir,” the bartender calls. I turn fast, scribbling a tip and a total. My stomach falls as I pull my hand away, leaving behind a red thumbprint, remnants of my run-in with Chett lingering. Fuck. I grab the slip of paper off the bar top, brushing my hand along my dark-wash jeans, thumbing through my wallet to grab some cash instead, tossing a tip on the counter in exchange. I push off the bar, walking toward my girl, checking myself as best as I can in the darkness to make sure that I don’t miss anything else, catching a few specks of blood on my white shirt. Shit. I grab the zipper of my quilted jacket, hiding the mess.

What was I thinking? I was so excited about gettin’ to you that I didn’t even think about cleanin’ up. I look down at my right hand: split knuckles, bloodied and bruised. I tug down my sleeve, just praying there isn’t any more I can’t see. “Y/n?”

Your eyes lift to mine, softening and welling with tears. “Rafey,” you slur out a whimper, eyes pinching shut. Your tears tumble down your cheeks as you try to get out your next few words to no avail.

”What’s goin’ on, princess?” I ask gently as I sit beside you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“Ugh…” You humpfs. “I got stood up.” You hiccup before rolling your eyes in annoyance with Chett and your own emotions. “I can’t believe I’m even cryin’ over him, Rafey. I know he’s an asshole.” You cry, making my heart melt as you use that little nickname not once but twice.

“He is,” I laugh lightly, making you nod and sigh.

“Are you… M’shit. I’m sorry,” you mumble. “M’kinda drunk.”

“Hey. Hey. It’s alright,” I coo.

“Are you meeting a date?” You ask, and I swear I can see a new sort of sadness in your eyes at the idea of it. I follow your gaze, eyeing the arrangement of roses in my hand.

“Oh, me?” I stall. “Uh… No. I-uh… I came in here after our game. I saw you hangin’ out here for a while. Kinda put two-and-two together. N’when I went outside to have a cig, I bought them off some guy on the street.” I look back to you, my whole story all for not as you practically fall asleep at the table, your beautiful face propped up and smushed in your hand. “Bought them for you, honey,” I sigh blissfully as I use a pet name I've always wanted to use knowing tomorrow it wouldn't matter.

“Thank you, Rafey,” you whisper. Three times… “So - So… So good to me.”

“Let’s get you outta here. Huh?” I ask as I reach into my wallet, pulling out a hundred, tossing it on the table. You close your eyes and nod your heavy head.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” I breathe as I scoop my hand around your waist, lifting you to your feet. You melt into me, resting your head on my chest, snuggling in. I can’t help but lean down, pressing a kiss on your hair. I breathe you in, relishing this simple moment with you. “I love you, princess…” You look up at me, smiling sweetly. I hold my breath, even if you heard me say that there’s no way you’ll remember tomorrow. But still…

“Can we get pizza?” You ask, making me laugh.

“Anything you want you get, sweetheart.”

I know there’s nothing more to worry about, but I can’t help but get a little jealous knowing you dressed this way for Chett. You sway to the music on your record player, drunkenly singing along to the track between bites of pizza. You’re happier than when you were at the bar; your sadness before I came is long gone. You flash me a smile, setting my heart ablaze, pointing at me playfully as you circle your hips to the beat, dropping it to the floor, showing me the perfect glimpse of your plump ass. Fuck me. I bare with the pain, not wanting to make it blatantly obvious that my cock is strained in my pants.

“Help me?” You pout as you walk to me, lifting your hands in the air.

”With what…” My voice trails away as you step even closer. Your tits line up with my eyes from my seated position on the foot of your bed. My hands instinctively reach up, resting on your hips, testing the waters.

“Pajamas.”

“Oh - Oh. Of course,” I stammer as I lift your shift dress over your head. I hold back a moan, my head and mind racing out of control as I stand this close to you, the girl of my dreams in nothing but your bra and panties. And not just any panties, the panties I had taken from you last week. The panties I had wrapped around my cock that I had cum all over more times than I could count. Of course, I washed them and put them back, but what luck. It’s fate. Just stay calm.

You lets out a sleepy little yawn, stretching slightly, your back arching. Your cleavage pops a little more against the dainty lace; my eyes strain as I refuse to blink. I run my hand down your side, watching as goosebumps spread across your bare skin at my touch. Your nipples peak, teasing me under the barely-there fabric.

Help her, Rafe. I swallow hard, focusing on the task at hand, fighting back everything that I want to do. You move a little closer, slotting yourself between my thighs. I know it will be over if I look up and match your eyes. You’ll be too embarrassed in the morning if I do anything more—if I do what I need. I can feel your eyes on me. Your hand moves higher and higher, your soft touch cupping my chin, guiding my eyes to yours.

Holy shit. You smile down at me, your eyes hazed with lust and liquor. You run your thumb along my bottom lip, biting your own. I’m dreaming. I have to be. “Thank you,” you smile, your voice coming out so crisp and clear. This is no dream… This is just heaven on earth. Deep breath. Help her get into her pajamas and let her sleep it off. Tomorrow. If she genuinely wants me now, she’ll want me tomorrow. She needs me. Her trust is in me. I can’t mess this up. I need her too badly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” I whisper, allowing myself to drink you in a little more. I mean, I don’t want you to think I am not thoroughly enjoying this… This is the best moment of my life. Of course, after meeting her, that is.

I reach over on the bed, grabbing your satin pajama top. You take a little breath, going to say something, holding back, settling on a smile instead. I bet you were gonna ask for something from me. Probably wanting me to take off that pretty little bra of yours instead of giving her clothes to put on. I want to be your knight in shining armor tonight. I want to protect you; I want to keep you safe.

Tomorrow night, princess. I promise.

I’m addicted. I’m down bad. I’m in way, way too deep, but I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. You have no clue what you do to me. You have no idea how much time I have invested in you— in us. I have never been more fulfilled, princess. This is my destiny. You are mine; you just don’t know it yet…

You smile at me sheepishly, tucking some hair behind your ear before putting pen to paper and checking in for your test. You're hungover. I can tell—dark circles painted under your beautiful eyes, and the usual soft glow of your skin dimmed. You’re smart… You’ll have no problem taking this test, and if you do, it’s nothing I can’t fix for you.

You walk over to a locker, stripping off your purse and jacket, checking your phone before stuffing it inside as well. Holy shit… You shut the door, forgoing the lock altogether. Fuck, you’re too good to me, sweetheart. I’m sure you want me to take a peek. Don’t you? A smirk tugs on my lips, arms crossing over my chest as I stare you down.

You stride toward me, shoulders slumped. I’m sure you’re gonna apologize. I smile at you, wordlessly telling you I know what you’ll will say. You laugh weakly, letting out a deep, self-deprecating sigh. “Sorry about last night, Rafe. Thank you,” you smile sweetly, your voice just above a hush, not wanting anyone else to hear.

“You’re alright, Y/n. Glad I could get you home. Are you feelin’ alright?” I ask as I step a little closer.

“M’a little hungover,” you sigh. “I—I never get like that, I swear-”

“I know you don’t,” I stop you. Your brows rumple, my tone a little more knowing than you expected. ”Your brother mentioned you don’t really drink like that,” I correct myself, and you smile.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Rafe. Thank you.” You reach out, giving my bicep a squeeze that has my eyes darting to your hand on me. Oh fuck. You're walking toward the testing room before I can look up at you again. The door fans shut behind you, leaving me alone with the equivalent of your fuckin’ teenage diary. Everything I could want to know about you that I don’t know yet is on here. Please be unlocked.

“Shit,” I hiss, slamming my fist against the locker, eyes darting around fast as the sharp sting of regret pierces through me at my outburst. Pull it together, Cameron. I close my eyes, doing my best to compose myself as I tuck your phone at my side, walking back toward the desk. I look at you through the privacy glass. My girl is none the wiser—I smile as you answer the next question. Her birthday. Keep it simple. That's gotta be it. It’s not like she's got shit to hide.

I type in the six-digit code, my tension melting away; shoulders relaxing as I crack the code without any effort at all. Gotta hit the big four: messages, search history, pictures, Instagram. Don't get too greedy. I feel my cock twitch at the thought of this being in your hand. My mind instantly sails away to the shit you looks at that you’d probably delete your search history for. Hopefully, I caught you on an off day. Focus. Focus. Focus. I look over my shoulder as you breeze past the next question.

Messages, first.

Nothing crazy. A few to her friends, her brother, and a lab partner. My blood turns cold as I see Chett’s name. I click into your messages, teeth grinding, fist clenching as I read through the exchange.

Chett: you free tonight?

Y/n: I have a huge test tomorrow I'm sorry! Friday?

Chett: yeah we can do something on Friday too

Chett: cmon pretty. I owe you a beer

Y/n: just a beer? 😉

Chett: fuck… that's a yes?? Lets go to dinner then I owe you so so much

Y/n: I can't be out late tho

Chett: I know. I got you. I'm lucky ok. I know how you are.

Y/n: what does that mean?? 😂

Chett: your a good girl

Chett: i’ll meet you a little angies at 8. I've got workouts late ok??

Y/n: okay 💕

Chett: you better not stand me up

Y/n: never ☺️

Chett: on my way

Y/n: I'm at the bar

Y/n: found a table. We still on for 8?

Y/n: ???

Y/n: are you okay?

Y/n: just ran into your buddies. They said you ran into Kenzie on the street. Just fuck off alright? Why would you ask me out if you two were still a thing?

Y/n: I knew you were an asshole

Okay. Okay. Shit. My hands tremble as I read and reread your words. Just a clusterfuck of feelings seeing you this excited, this angry; this upset over that asshole. He ran into Kenzie? I'm sure they caught up. I'm sure he had second thoughts about your date. About you? How could someone have second thoughts about you? I knew I did you a favor.

I click into the search history. Cleared. God damnit. That leaves two more pieces to the puzzle. Instagram and pictures. I pull up your socials, thumbing to the shit only I get to see. The DMs are the same as your texts; it's nothing crazy. Search bar… I click into it, seeing your recent searches. Chett… You motherfucker. Haunting me, you goddamn dick- Oh…

Rafe Cameron

I blink a few times, pinching my eyes closed before fluttering them open as I see MY name on YOUR screen. “No fucking way,” my voice comes out needy and hoarse, cracking with all the want I feel for you. I gasp for a breath, filling my lungs with needed air. How is this happening? I rub my hand across my mouth, snuffing out my smile. Jesus Christ. Best day of my fuckin’ life.

I look over my shoulder, praying I have enough time to browse your hidden folder in your camera roll. Five questions left. I open the folder, my hand instantly reaching for the edge of the desk, my rock-hard cock finally giving way as I cum in my slacks at the sight of you in lingerie. My heart pounds in my ears and chest as I thumb through the rest, watching in horror as a wet, warm spot forms on my khakis. Fuck. There’s five more pictures… My goddess. My fuckin’ princess… Look at you, baby. Two more questions left. Put the fuckin’ phone back, Rafe. The phone trembles as I unhide all five, moving quickly to your messages before typing in my number, sending them to myself, deleting everything fast. I swear I could’ve cum again just feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, knowing what I have saved for myself.

I swipe everything closed as I walk back to the locker bay, stuffing the phone inside your purse, slamming the door shut before the testing door swings open. I turn my body away, walking toward the exit, checking on a knock that never happened; turning my body in the opposite direction before matching your eyes. “So, how did it go?” I smile, positioning myself so you can’t see the absolute mess you caused.

“Good, actually,” you sighs, relief laced in your tone and demeanor as you pop open your locker. I step behind the desk, leaning into the counter just enough to ensure that my little secret is safe.

Good girl.

I swear I can’t go to bed without my nightly ritual; I stand outside your window, hidden just out of view, cloaked in the darkness of the hedges gathered around the perimeter of your apartment. Some nights I have the pleasure of being in your space; other nights, I settle for the next best thing, but honestly, even here is paradise.

Some nights, you stay up late, the apples of your cheeks glowing in the dim of your room as you browse your phone; other nights, you moves through your apartment chatting on the phone with your friends, smiling and laughing, every fiber of my being just wishing it was me on the other line. But on special nights, nights like this, your hand slips into your night stand pulling out your favorite vibrator, playing with your pussy like I could only dream of doing.

I never get to see what goes on underneath the covers or hear the sweet noises you make, but I get to see the pleasure painted all over your face. I can’t help but pull my cock out of my pants, stroke my dick while you work on yourself. Are you thinking about me? I always dreamed you were, but after seeing your search history, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. What if you're saying my name? My beautiful girl.

“Fuck, baby,” I pant as you grab the covers, throwing them off your body, my precum mixing with my sweaty palm as I take in the sight before me. I watch as the silicon cock glistens with your slick, making me spit on my dick to mirror the sight. My fist works over my dick, whimpering and moaning your name as I keep your pace. My thigh muscles tremble as I fixate on your every movement.

I know I should walk away, but there’s no force on this earth strong enough to pull me away from this. I bite my lip as you throw your head back into your pillow, back arching off the mattress.

And just like that, I fall deeper and deeper into my mind. “Where are we fuckin’ tonight, princess?” I mumble, envisioning us in the same room. “My office? Fuck, you’re bad, sweetheart? You sure? Sure you can’t wait until we get home? God damn, angel. You need it that bad? Need daddy’s dick right here, right now?” I moan as my muscles clench tight.

I swear I draw blood, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth as you drag your hand up, pulling your shirt with it, exposing your perfect breasts. You squeeze and twist your nipple, circling softly just like I would. “My lips will be on you, I swear to Christ,” I moan, picturing my parted lips sucking down on your tits; catching your breasts in my mouth as they bounce.

“Stop hidin’, honey,” I grunt as your legs draw closer, and I swear you heard me because your thighs widen on the mattress, splaying out for me and only me. What I wouldn't pay to bury myself in your cunt, princess. I’ve sucked on your panties more times than I can count; memorized your taste. I need the real thing. I wanna feel the warmth of your body against me, tongue pumping in and out of that tight little hole of yours.

Your mouth falls open, chest heaving, muffled cries heard through the glass. Just a whisper, but my ears have never been more blessed. I look down at my cock for a split second, just enough time to run some spit down on my throbbing head, making me hiss out a breath. I make a tight fist, imagining myself sinking into your slick pussy as you lay on a pile of my class papers, a little pleated skirt riding up around your waist, your wet cunt just begging for me to fill it, sucking me in.

“Such a sloppy cunt. Fuck… Perfect for me,” I mutter, returning my eyes to you, watching as your arousal leaks out of your pussy as you continue to stroke, dirtying the sheets below. I run my hand across my sweaty forehead, slicking back my bangs in the process, switching my hold to my balls to play with them, trying desperately to cum with you for your second time. “Slow down, Y/n… Shittt. Pussy’s too good. You wanna come with daddy. Don't you? Yeah you do. Atta baby.”

Another muffled moan bleeds through the glass. I need to hear you. Fuck, I need to know what you sound like. I release my cock with a panting gasp, fumbling for the glass, resting my clammy palms against it as I hold my breath, cracking it ever so slightly. There we go. I move even closer, resting a hand on the brick wall, eyes rolling back in my skull as I wrap my fingers around my girthy dick again.

“Rafe…” She pants, and my eyes double, stomach falling, breath fleeing my chest, drowning in my own pleasure as my name leaves your lips. Say it again. Fucking say it, baby. Tears of joy fill my eyes as warmth spreads from my head to my toes.

I listen closely, catching the sounds of your sopping core squelching through your room, cries and sighs of pleasure coming back to back as I bite my shirt, holding back my own. “Just like that, Rafey. Fuckkk, daddy. I’m cumming,” you cry in a throaty, fucked-out voice that has me cumming harder than I ever have in my life, ropes, and ropes of cum painting the brick wall of your apartment building as I watch your finish.

I look down in exhaustion as my cum rolls down the wall, before closing my eyes in utter bliss, just imagining it leaking out of your cunt. My goddamn pussy. “Tomorrow-” I pant as I lift my trembling hand, pointing my cum-coated finger against the glass with a smug smile that I wish you could see. “M’taking you out and then we’re comin’ back here and I’m going to make every one of your fantasies come true, honey. M’gonna be all you need. I swear,” I coo.

I watch you as you lay there, hands trailing your beautiful body, calming yourself down with touch. You're lonely, baby. You don't need to be… Let me take care of you. You let out a sleepy yawn, stretching out on the mattress.

“Fuck,” I grumble, post-nut clarity setting in as I realize what the fuck I just did, regretting none of it, just hoping that someone didn’t see me. The street is empty. Just perfect. I grab my boxers, pulling them up as you tuck your toy into your nightstand, fastening my pants as you snuggle into your sheets.

No.

Your eyes lock with mine, and with that, time stands still. My heart hammers in my chest as your expression changes from confusion to terror. You let out a blood-curdling scream as I try to pull myself away, but I’m frozen with fear. Run. Fuck! You fumble for your phone as I walk away from the window, my eyes never leaving you until I’m falling back on the curb, struggling to my feet, sprinting as fast as my feet will take me.

“I’ve ruined everything. What the hell have I done?” My heart shatters into a million pieces as I run down the block, charging toward my car as I fight my keys out of my pocket. Tears and snot wet my face, my whole body sheened with sweat, shivering with adrenaline. ”Not only am I going to lose her, but I’m gonna lose everything else. My job. My reputation. Everything. Fucking everything.” I slam my finger against the keyless start; engine roaring as I peel out onto the street, trying to put distance between me and you.

What the hell can I say to make this better? No one will understand. I can’t fucking help it. I can’t help who I am. I can’t help that I love you. That I want to keep you safe. Is that a crime? I’m obsessed with you. It’s like— I think about you all the time. Every second of my fucking life. But isn’t that what love should be like?

I let out a shaky breath, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror, my cheeks soaked with tears, eyes glassy with emotion. If I can’t have you, I don’t want to live. I don’t… I-I can’t. My foot slams on the gas, barreling down the freeway toward the bridge, watching as the needle on the speedometer climbs higher and higher as cars swerve and dart out of my path.

What is the point if I can’t have you?

I’m nothing without you.

My knuckles ghost white, as I blink the tears out of my eyes, sobbing like a child as the speedometer blasts past 100. I feel the dismare in my heaving chest plaguing me like a virus, the only warmth in my heart gone now that I’ve lost you. Just fucking empty—goddamn hollow. The only thing I’ve ever truly wanted is gone. You were the best thing that has ever been mine and I didn’t even get to tell you… I lift my hand to wipe away the tears as the road blurs before me.

Days of watching you, not one moment forgotten. I was almost a part of your world. Why did I wait so long? Why did I wait until it was too late? You were saying my name? You wanted me just as bad as I wanted you…

The world around me gets a little brighter as I pull onto the bridge, illuminated with streetlamps, before the world dives off into the dark waters below.

What if she feels guilt? What if she blames herself? What if this ruins hers too?

I thread through the gap of cars, vehicles slamming on their breaks around me, unable to swerve on the bridge like they were on the road before making every move sharper; more erratic—the line thinning, between life and death.

Maybe she’ll forgive me after I’m dead…

RING. RING. RING.

I look down at my phone, seeing your brother's name light up the screen. “Hello?” I choke the word out, biting my lips to hold back my sniffles and sobs as I speed closer and closer to the edge, waiting for him to blow out my speakers. ‘ASSHOLE. PERV. STALKER. PSYCHOPATH-’

“Hey, Rafe. You good, man?” He asks worriedly, his gentle voice pulling me out of the pit. My foot pulls off the glass as I’m hit with a sliver of hope, before slamming on the breaks. My tires screech as my car skids across the bridge, stomach falling as I get so close to the edge that the grille of my Cadillac kisses the guardrail, nothing but blackness and open water before me.

“M’Yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

You dive into my arms, hands wrapped tightly around my waist as you bury your head in my chest. Your warm, wet tears soak through my shirt, blessing my skin as I hold you close. “Thank you so much for coming, Rafe,” you sniffle.

“Of course, Y/n,” I whisper as you tremble in my arms like a leaf. “Did you get a good look at him?”

You shake your head, letting out a frail little sigh. “No…”

“Go inside. Aight? You’ve been through enough. Let me check it out. I’ll be in in a second. Okay?” You nod, looking up at me with doe-eyes and a trembling lip. I cup your tear stained cheek in my hand, brushing your skin nice and soft. You tilt into me, needing me closer. “I’m sorry you went through this… But, it’s just some creep. I’m not gonna leave you tonight. I swear.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

“Now, you, get inside and try to relax. Huh? It’ll only take me a second.” You nod and step inside, holding my hand until the last moment.

I walk down the stairs, strolling through the landscaping to your window. I suck my teeth, looking down at the stained brick before lifting my hand, running my thumb along my tongue, scrubbing the little cum mark I left with my finger. “All clear,” I whisper, smiling to myself as my night takes a turn for the better.

I walk up your steps, stepping into the apartment as you pour a glass of wine for you and I. “Thank you, Rafe. I’m so glad you’re here,” you smile, your voice weak as you walk toward me in your satin pajamas, passing me a glass.

“Call me anytime you need me. Okay?” I smile as I reach my hand out for you. You tangle your fingers in mine, moving a little closer, rising on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek.

The two of us walk over to the couch, taking a seat. You snuggle into my chest just like you did at the bar. Your body relaxes in mine. The adrenaline and excitement of the night wears off fast, and it’s not long before your eyes start to beat closed. I don’t think I can sleep. I don’t want to. Truthfully, I could stay this way forever with you. Your soft sounds fill my ears as I focus on your breathing and the shape of your body in mine. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect moment with you, sweetheart. My girl. Mine. A satisfied smile plays on my lips as I reach over, flicking on the evening news.

“Hello, my name is Belle Lee, reporting live from the downtown district. An investigation is underway after a University student was found dead with multiple gunshot wounds. College officials have identified the victim as 22-year-old Chett Lee from Tampa Bay, Florida. This is an active investigation. Any tips or other information can be directed to the local authorities. Currently, there are no known suspects in this gruesome murder.”

A smirk pulls on my lips as I flick off the TV, darkness falling all around us. I lift you into my arms, holding you close, walking you to your room before setting you down on the mattress. I rub my thumb across you pillowy lips, not wanting to push it too far by kissing you goodnight. My belly stirs as I think about the cum I had just cleaned off the glass, any reminents now hanging on your perfect lips.

I’ll just have to settle for that tonight.

I stroke your hair gently, brushing it off your beautiful face. Just leave, Rafe… Just—I succumb to my urges, kissing your forehead instead, lingering as long as I possibly can before pulling away. Your eyes match mine, staring up at me.

“Stay.”

@nadvs it was so amazing brainstorming with you. I am such a fan of your work and you are such an amazing person 💕 thank you babe 😭.

[meganegatari]

Bro I literally eat up ur writing every time😭can u do ellie using a vibe on u?

before you read.

☆: KILLING 3 BIRDS W ONE STONE HEHE. i feel these all go well, so why not. sorry for the insane wait, and the wildly lazy writing...me putting this off forever only to bang out a crappy blurb in like 2 mins...also can't stick to a single aesthetic WHATEVA.

◇: vibrator use, fingering, porn w/out plot (sawry), dom-ish ellie (but she's still kinda silly), overstimulation, squirting, aftercare at the end (all r! recieving).

"you can take it, doin' so good." she murmurs under her breath, her face contorted in concentration.

you squeal when ellie presses the vibrator hard against your poor, overworked clit, the sensations almost too much to bear. but no matter how overwhelming it may be, it's still so mind numbingly good. the device has been set on a mode midway for the past...however long, and you've completely lost count of how many times she's made you cum thus far. for all you knew, it could have been well into the double digits, and she didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

ellie’s eyes were dark, low with blown out pupils. they remain trained on you, flickering between observing your facial expressions, your squirming body, covered in a shiny layer of sweat, and what's going on under her hands. "...ellie, hold on...wait." you gasp out, struggling to catch your breath.

she detaches the device from you, her tattooed hand traveling up your body, settling on the side of your face to cup your cheek, and wipe away a stray tear that had escaped from your eye. "need a break, babe?" she says, her gaze softening. that honey voice she puts on, featuring a light domineering timbre, it immediately makes you wet all over again and you whimper quietly, bucking your hips up in pursuit of more stimulation. she notices—of course she does, observant as a fox—and her lips stretch into a sneer, "yeah that's what i thought, still need more." she chuckles, before thrusting the tip of the toy back onto your swollen clit, biting her lip when she watches you arch backward, mantras of her name and pleas falling from your lips.

her free hand, which was previously resting on your knee, flies down the inside of your parted thighs, grazing the heated skin, and she teases your hole with two digits, eagerly observing the reactions. she quickly stuffs her middle two fingers inside with ease, slick and pearly cum leaking down her slender knuckles. curling upwards to massage your g-spot, the pleasure is causing explosions of colors to appear in your vision, your eyes are filling with tears once again.

"just gimme one more, okay?" ellie orders gently, clicking buttons to increase the intensity of the vibrator even more, and you nearly shriek. out of instinct your legs fight to close around her hands, but she's quick to push your knee to the side again, tutting. "nuh-uh, don't do that. just one more. say the safeword if you really want me to stop, alright?" you open one eye and nod meekly at her, and she resumes. within no time at all you feel the brink of orgasm swell in your lower abdomen once more, your legs trembling at every purr of the toy. and she can tell as well by the way you're whining and panting, all with a fucked out, lazy smile playing on your face.

silent moans trapped in your throat, you feel the blinding ecstasy overtake your body, blacking out your senses for a moment. she has lessened the setting to work you through it effectively, all while muttering sweet praises throughout.

"god, look at that." she whispers in awe once it's over, discarding the device on the floor and rubbing her hands across your legs to ease the tension in your thighs, making sure you're okay. she hovers over you to press a tender kiss to your forehead, then over your entire face, grinning when she hears you laugh.

her goofy tone returns, "fuckin' squirted all over me, baby. we'll clean up just gimme a sec." she cuddles up to you, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck, sighing and softly stroking the top of your head. "next time we'll do a couple more, make a new personal best, whaddaya think?"

tags (idk why some didn’t work): @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @claude999 @brunaedn @lanabaezzzz

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run

pt 4

Ghost was silent as you disinfected his hand, watching with interest as you dab the cotton against the wounds. “You really don’t have to do this, I deserved it for being so rough with ya.” He mutters after some time, and you wave him off.

“You did deserve it, but I still don’t want it getting infected and you don’t seem the type to take care of it.” You huff, grabbing the bandage off the bathroom counter.

He watches you, tracking your movements as you gingerly wrap his hand. “There. We can check on that in a day or two.” You announce, patting his cheek and you bite back a smile at the indignant scoff he makes, batting your hand away.

“Oh so you and Price can grab me but I can’t touch?” You roll your eyes, cleaning up the small mess you made as Ghost flexes his hand, looking at the bandage with an unreadable look in his eye.

“Did I wrap it too tight? I’m sorry, let me-“

“It’s fine little bird, thank you.” His voice is soft, his eyes locked on the white wrap. He blinks when you gently slip your palm into his, squeezing gently.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I can tell you need it.” Your voice is barely a whisper, and you smile when you feel him squeeze your hand ever so slightly in return, but makes no move to stand. His eyes are tired, and there’s a strand of hair sticking out from the eye hole and you pause.

“Would you… would you be more comfortable with that off? I can wash it for you.” You offer, wincing only slightly when his grip tightens.

“Don’t wanna scare ya anymore than I have.” He states bluntly, making you frown. “How is your face going to scare me?” You ask, raising a brow as you cautiously reach for the edge of the ski mask. You anticipate him grabbing your wrist, but not the flicker of panic that flashes in his eyes and you back off, guilt settling low in your stomach.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to, I just thought you’d be more comfortable with it off…” You apologize, lowering your gaze. You go to pull your hand back, clearly having overstepped, but he stops you, pulling your hand back to his lap and he glares at the ground.

“It ain’t pretty.” Is all he offers after a moment, and you tilt your head. “Doesn’t mean you’re gonna scare me Ghost.” You soothe, trying to get him to look at you. A few hours ago you would have laughed seeing this guy acting so small, but now you just want to help them feel… safe. How funny.

As though he’s reading your thoughts, his eyes lift to meet yours, and you can see a million different questions dancing there. “You ever looked into the face of a monster?” He asks, and that takes you back, and he watches the way your eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t-“

“I have done some awful fuckin things little bird. Monsterous things. Things that keep me awake at night, I’m a-“

“That doesn’t make you a monster.” You hiss, and he narrows his eyes, ready to bark back but you cut him off. “Do you view your team as monsters? Do you deem them any less human because of the lives they’ve taken? Is Price a monster?” You snap, and his mouth slams shut, teeth clacking and you see his nostrils flare. Price must be a sensitive nerve.

“He told me. He told me what the four of you have done. He told me all the awful fucking things you four had to witness first hand. The things you did to keep those who needed protecting safe and I want to do that for you!”

His eyes widen behind the mask, and the silence hangs heavy in the air.

You search his eyes for a moment, before slowly reaching back towards the hem of the mask.

“You don’t scare me Ghost. Maybe a few hours ago but not now.”

“How can you be so sure?” He whispers, gripping your wrists but his touch is gentle, hands shaking.

“Do you feel bad about holding that knife to my throat?” You ask, and his eyes flash, and he tugs you closer by your wrists. “More than anything. We… I was just… scared.” His voice is small, eyes shining with unshed tears as you slowly pull the ski mask up and off, and he shrinks back as you look over his features.

He’s waiting for it, waiting for the gasp, the look of disgust.

But you only hum, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes before gently tracing one of the scars littered along his cheek.

“Now where is that monster you were telling me about, hm?” You tease softly, and his lip trembles as you softly cup his cheek.

“I don’t see any monsters here, just a man who desperately needs some sleep.” He tries to fight back the tears, but his cheeks are hot and sticky and he struggles to suck in a breath.

He freezes when he feels you tug him forward, just for his head to land on your chest, a hand in his hair, grounding.

Comforting.

“You guys are safe here. I promise.” You whisper, the only answer you receive is Ghost fisting the back of your hoodie as he buries his face deeper into your chest to muffle his sobs.

“Absolute fuckin idiot.” He chokes out, and you raise a brow, running a hand through his hair. “Who?”

“Who ever fuckin’ divorces a walkin’ fuckin’ dream.” He spits, yanking at your hoodie like a pouting child, cheeks shining with tears and you can’t help it, you giggle, loud and bright.

“So you’ve said.” You laugh, and he shakes his head. “Should ‘ave his ass kicked.” He mutters, and you have to bite back the sharp reply waiting at the tip of your tongue, instead just tilting his head back so you could meet his gaze.

“You need to rest. Let’s get you to bed.” You order, and he blinks at you, before the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Inviting me to bed already little bird? Cheeky.” He grins, and it’s a little crooked, and it makes your heart stutter, a shy smile fighting its way to your face.

“The hell the two of you doin’ in here?” Price gripes, and you jump, Ghost tugging you closer instinctively. “Bonding.” He mumbles, resting his cheek against your chest and you glance over your shoulder. Price stares at the two of you, brow raised, but when his eyes settle on the man wrapped around you, you can physically see him soften, an easy smile spreading across his face.

“Gonna stop wearing that damn thing then?” He asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the door frame, and Ghost shrugs. “Thinkin’ about it.” He admits softly, propping his chin on your chest so he can gaze up at you. It’s oddly intimate, and it has your heart racing, giving him one last timid smile before tapping his cheek.

“Bed. Now.”

“Oh she’s a bossy one.” Price chuckles, and you shoo him off. “Both of you, bed!” You laugh, cheeks warm as you step away from Ghost, who you swear whines at the loss of you in his arms.

The three of you shuffle out of the bathroom, and you glance around. “Didn’t have the heart to wake ‘em. Gaz is just about crushing the poor lad but they’re both out like a light.” Price explains, and you nod. “Well, I’ll leave some blanket for them.” You decide, grabbing one of the bigger fur blankets from the closet, and when you stand straight, you’re sandwiched between the two of them, and your breath catches.

“What are you two doing?” You squeak, just to feel two pairs of lips brushing your cheeks.

“Thank you pretty. For everything.” Price mutters, voice low and tired.

“Can’t tell you how much it means to us, really. We’ll repay you anyway we can.” Ghost continues, a rough hand caressing your cheek and you swallow down a whimper, nodding.

���Of course. I’m glad I can help.”

“Don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you.” Ghost whispers, and your heart slams in your chest. “I-I better get to my room.” You stutter, stepping away from them on shaking legs.

“Goodnight pretty.” Price hums, already tugging Ghost towards the large mattress as you close the door, clutching the blanket to your chest as you dash down the hallway.

Ghost allows himself to lead towards the bed, laughing when Price pushes him back, eyes bright.

“You know I love seein’ you out of that damn mask.” He breathes, crawling over his lover as Ghost gazes up at him, brown eyes tired but brighter than Price has seen them in ages.

“You sure this isn’t about you droolin’ all over our host?” He muses, reaching up to card his fingers through Price’s hair, who catches his wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Like you weren’t in bloody heaven bein’ buried between those tits.” He chuckles, lowering himself next to Ghost, who curls into his side, resting his head on his shoulder. The mattress sinks under the weight, and it’s not lumpy or stabbing his side with springs as he relaxes, sinking against Price and the fresh blankets surrounding him.

“She’s nice.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering as exhaustion sinks into his bones. Price snorts at that, pressing a kiss to Ghost’s temple as he feels his own fatigue winning its war.

“A god damn angel.” He huffs, dropping his head back as he caresses the skin at Ghost’s hip.

“Get some sleep love.” Price hums, letting his eyes drift shut, listening to the way Ghost’s breathing evens out. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to sleep like this, wrapped around each other and Price swallows the rising lump in his throat as he settles in, tugging his man as close as he can before finally letting exhaustion take over, drifting into a dreamless sleep, finally.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.

He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant. 

“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.

He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.

There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.

She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in. 

Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool. 

In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her. 

Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased. 

In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.  

So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth. 

She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch. 

Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout. 

“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.

He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash. 

She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified. 

He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess. 

Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.

“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time. 

He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”

He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”

It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh. 

“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”

“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently. 

“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”

“No breakfast?” 

She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”

Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”

“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”

When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once. 

“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”

“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”

“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”

“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”

“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”

“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”

He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up. 

It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her. 

He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth. 

“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing. 

“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”

He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners. 

He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft.  If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.

The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.

“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”

Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time. 

He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair. 

He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.

“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.

“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”

“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.

“Um…two years.”

“Where’d you work before?”

“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”

“Where’s your family from then?”

It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—

He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.

Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.

The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away. 

Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”

He turns around to flip the burner off.

[deadghosy]

THANKS TO @lazyemmy FOR THIS LOVELY IDEA OF THE PENGUIN! READER💗🦆

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: during one extermination an angel had kidnapped you and took you to heaven based off a common mistake

“Quack?” You were literally trying to water the hotel’s flowers when you forgot about extermination….the leader of the exterminators had grabbed you by your sailor outfit Velvette made you.

“Shut your mouth short stuff.” You heard a man’s voice to see a person wearing a horned mask and a golden robe. You panicked as Charlie had told you about a man like this as Adam scoffs seeing your panicked state.

“JEEZ CHILL OUT YOU FUCKIN' BIRD BRAIN!” Adam yells as he enters in the portal of heaven with the exterminators behind him. He plops you down on the clouded floors to see the heavenly gates Charlie tells you in stories

As you waddled you seen a male who seemed to be waiting for you. “Ah! Reader..so glad to have you. It seems as if heaven had made a mistake and sent you to hell.” St. Peter said as he picks you up having the gates open. Your eyes widen at the bright light of heaven as angels walk and smile. “Welcome to your true home [reader]”

The air smelt so clean and not bloody as it seemed so peaceful and holy. After St. Peter getting your room and home ready to stay in heaven. You start to feel a little “home” sick as you hope the hotel crew was doing well and aren’t going crazy.

Which they totally are as Charlie is panicking calling her father.

After a few days , Adam will visit you a lot saying how he got forced to look after you…(he wasn’t forced he just liked how cute and pure you are but he’ll never admit it) Adam makes dumb ass jokes about how all those sinners down there should die and perish as he pats you on your little head. You quacked trying to show some worry for your friends down there.

“Oh them? Hah! They’re probably running like headless chickens looking for your ass.” Adam says with his usual grin as he pops some popcorn in his mouth. “Want some?” He says as he waves a piece of popcorn in your face. you sniffed it and ate it from his hand as adam's eyes widen at your cuteness…

you're like a little baby..💗😭😭😭

Adam grabs your chubby cold cheeks as he faces you towards him. “Never leave here. Okay?” He says seriously low with a protective tone as you quack nodding nervously at how quick this dude got attached to you.

Adam pushes your face away from him smirking. “Good now let’s watch this video I saw off of this human app called ‘TikTok’”

Lute didn’t know how to approach you, but she sends you small gifts that reminds her of you as you just open them like “quack?” And a head tilt confused but take it in anyways.

I imagine lute literally being your bodyguard when you don’t have any work to do as she just pushes anyone who gets to close to you away. LIKE IT COULD BE AN OLD LADY AND SHE WOULD BE LIKE “BITCH MOVE!”😭

After the 3rd day of the 1 week of being in heaven, lute definitely got overprotective of you. Always keeping tabs on where you go and which house you deliver mail to. I mean who knows what would happen to a cute soul like you? (A/n: Omg this sounds like a yandere…)

The angels love how adorable you are as they pet you. Immediately you are popular just like how you are popular in hell. Sera has given you a job as a mail boy again as you smile.

I can see St.Peter visit you when he isn’t on duty or just when someone takes his spot so he can say hi and hang out with you.

You wear a cute little yellow and white mail delivery fit thanks to sera who got a designer to get you to fit it perfectly.

You love how you still got your delivery job as you leave a cookie on the front porches of the angels. It’s like your significant signature to others to have a good day.

Adam and lute were arguing one time in front of you and you sniffled not liking the loud noises and immediately, and surprisingly. Adam and Lute pretended everything was okay to make you happy as Adam picked you up and took you away to get your favorite snack for you.

Sera checks on you as well with Emily by her side as Emily just finds you so cute and is excited to get to hang out with you more.

Emily immediately hugs and kisses your head amused by your small and kind soul she sees in you.

Sera would like to take you on stroll on week 2. She’d like to show you around heaven with Emily as she hold you in her arms gushing chow cute you are.

NOW I CAN IMAGINE YOU AND EMILY GOING ON A SHOPPING SPREE TO EXPLORE NEW CLOTHING AESTHETIC ✨💗

You showed yourself to be an angel by spirit as you helped a kid get a new lollipop, which makes sera smile at you being helpful as he is glad to hav with here in heaven and not they “ratchet” place.

You do miss hell as it had your friends who you got use to….you hoped they were still doing okay down there.

MEANWHILE IN HELL: “OMG OMG I CANT BELIEVE THEY GOT KIDNAPPED…IM A BAD FRIENDDD” “HON DONT WORRY, YOUR DAD CAN FIND A WAY TO GET THEM..” “it’s okay fat nuggets, they’ll come back…” *sad oink* and everyone else is having their own panic moment in their own way.

MEANWHILE BACK IN HEAVEN: “quack.” You said looking up at adam who holds your hand. “Huh? Jeeezzz bird brain..stop worrying about those loser down there…they’re fine without you.” Adam says smirking knowing damn well they aren’t .

Emily holds your hand as you waddle quacking at the ice creams around here. They taste so much better as your eyes sparkle at this sweet flavored treat. Emily squeals as her eyes got big and took a pic of your happy face. Sera most definitely got the picture on her heaven phone as her face soften seeing the new angel in heaven enjoying their self.

I imagine Adam is the one to be the one who claims to be the closest to you. But really he just brags about himself to you about how much sinners he kills.

I headcannon for your wings to be little cute fairy looking wings or pure white ones as you just fly.

You definitely have cherubim in heaven which makes the angels find you more adorable as the delivery boy.

You had made an account literally one day, and instantly you got 2 million followers which made you shock as Adam just munches on snacks while you quack panicked at how quick you became famous here.

I headcannon St. Peter to send you cookies with those cute little penguin designs on it. It looks like Christmas cookies but they are so cute and tasty

Say for example you fell and you couldn’t get up as you’re so rounded 😭 LITERALLY ALL YOU CAN DO IS ROLL AND SQEUAK AND QUACK💗 Adam is laughing as he takes a picture and video for himself before helping you up.

I can imagine Adam and Sera having a schedule out to plan who gets it hang out with you on weeks and days 😭

You liked the herbal tea they had as you waddle around with Adam having a kid leash on you as he just looked bored.

At the end of the week, you were sleeping wearing a whole ass cute gown Adam bought you as he literally dropped it on you with a flustered face seeing your cute smile.

As you slept…Lucifer snuck into heaven and snatched you up leaving a “fuck you” letter to Adam. Don’t even question how he got into heaven. Just be glad he took you.

[feralforfrank]

simon riley x fem!reader

simon gets hit by an umbrella like three times, sorry for not knowing proper british and scottish slang, i'm greek and trying my best 👍🏻 implied age gap (reader is in uni)

holidays in Edinburgh, part 1/?

the 141 is home for the holidays. home being all over the uk, with gaz and price spending their time somwhere in the country with their partners and simon accompanying johnny and his partner in Edinburgh. johnny insisted he come along, Edinburgh is full of bonnie birds, you never know, you might meet your match, lt.

you're miserable. spending yet another holiday in a foreign country, isolated in your flat with only your cat, warm tea, and a book to pass the time. you couldn't go back home due to finals starting soon, and your parents decided to spend Christmas in warm weather down under (Australia).

it's not half as bad, you try to convince yourself. your flat is quiet, as are the neighboring ones and the building in general. your bedroom window overlooks a busy street, and you envy those who flood them with shopping bags and smiles. you haven't made that many friends, and the ones you have are already visiting their hometowns. the upside is that you're in a warm, comfortable space while others are freezing their pinkies off.

even johnny is gone. the loud scot from next door, a guy you had disliked at first without having officially met him - thin walls was the only bad thing this building has, and you were forced to listen to him do everything, from weight lifting, to watching tv, to having sex - but when you bumped into each other your opinion changed drastically. a gentleman, funny and light-hearted. he hadn't taken to heart your complaints about the noise, only promising to take it down a notch.

without the muffled sounds of his tv to annoy you - his partner had apologised for the volume, saying he's partially deaf in one ear from having been too close to explosions way too many times - you were left reading your book in silence. maybe you'd go to the grocery store later, stock up so you won't need to leave your house - the weatherman said it's going to get colder, heavy snow expected.

johnny hands simon the keys to his flat. him and his bird are going to the supermarket, there's nothing in the fridge or the cupboards for the next few days. the scot told him to take a shower, relax and make himself at home until they come back, and he didn't have to be told twice with the biting cold making his nose stuffy.

johnny's building is freshly painted to look new on the outside but old on the inside. he's been here before, and he remembers mactavish struggling to open his front door sometimes, for the lock got stuck.

he tries to reenact the technique his best friend uses to get in, trying his hardest to open the door gently instead of pushing with his shoulder like he does back at his own flat. he turns the key one, two, three times and pulls forward softly, trying to turn the key for the fourth and final time.

fuck. you gotta be fucking joking.

"fuckin' hell."

he tries again. and again, this time throwing his bag on the floor. the door rattles as he uses a bit more force, frustration building steadily and quickly.

you press play on spotify, the familiar voices of joe and frank from the basement yard podcast filling your ears. your headphones are pushing the hair out of your face and also act as ear muffs. you check your coat pockets for your phone and keys, nodding to yourself before kissing your cat goodbye. you promise her treats from the grocery store.

at first, you don't notice the hunk of a man at the door next to yours. the podcast is on full volume and your securing your scarf around your shoulder. it's when you turn to shut your door that you freeze mid-step.

in front of you, with is back turned to you, there's a giant guy pressing all his weight to johnny's door. he's wearing all black, hood drawn up, which makes this situation much much scarier.

fuck fuck fuck fuck. what the fuck. he's tryinf to break in the flat. oh fuck fuck fuck, what do i do? has he noticed me? he hasn't turned around yet. what the fuck. shit fuck. FUCK. what the fuck?!

your body reacts a few seconds later. with wide eyes and pursed lips, you hold your breath, and take a step inside your home. half your body is outside, facing him incase he decides to turn around and your arm is blindly reaching for your big umbrella.

once you have a stready hold on it, you don't hesitate to take two big steps forward and hurl it on the intruder's neck. your headphones for on your shoulders, and you hit him again, and this time he physically recoils.

you hit him another time, not quite as hard, and flinch at the sound the plastic makes against his jacket but you're gaining confidence as he grunts in pain. you shout something at him, something about this being karma for trying to break into somebody else's house, and he yelps something in response, but the blood rushing in your ears is louder than your voices.

you swing the umbrella back to hit him again, gathering all the courage you can muster for a final blow. you take a millisecond more to do so and he has time to move before it can connect with his back. unfortunately for the guy, the umbrella hits the side of his face.

he yelps and you drop it with a gasp, hands covering your mouth in shock.

his face is still hidden under his hood, but his ungloved fingers reach for his cheek, where the tip of the umbrella connected.

there's a moment of silence. your eyes are wider than before, as wide as saucers, and you're breathing heavily like him. you're scared beyond your mind, the fear having paralysed you once again. you stand there watching him rub his face witha grunt.

"you fuckin' crazy or wha', lady?!" he finally speaks with gritted teeth. his accent is hot. "'m not a fucking intruder."

oh shit.

"...you're not?"

"no, the fuck 'm not," he says calmly, and your heart rate picks up. "would an intruder have keys to the bloody flat?" he shows you the keys and you gasp softly, recognising johnny's scottish flag keychain.

"i'm—oh," your hands reach out as you try to approach him. "i'm so terribly sorry, i just—mactavish isn't home and you're huge and you were throwing yourself at the door and you have your hood up and you're so. fucking. big, i thought you were trying to rob the place—" you take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts - you just beat a guy with an umbrella for no fucking reason!!!!!! ‐ "here, let me help you." you signal for him to enter your flat.

simon watches you for a moment. flushed cheeks, eyes glassy and overflowing emotions, hands waving frantically as you open your own door wider for him to walk in.

he should refuse. flat out say no. you just attacked him with an umbrella for fucks sake. it's still in your trembling hands. he should refuse. but you said mactavish. you know johnny. and he knows himself. he must've looked terrifying to you, back hunched over the lock, shoulder pushing on the old wooden door.

you look genuinely sorry and worried, very willing to let him into your home, even though he hasn't given you any information about himself. for all you know, he could've stolen the keys from johnny or his bird, he could be a proper burglar.

he should shake his head and turn your back on you. it doesn't even hurt. he's had worse. he thinks his cheekbone might have a scratch, but he's fine. ghost has been through torture before - your hits are nothing compared to that.

but you're pretty. extremely so.

so, he nods slowly, removing his hand from his cheek and grabbing his duffel bag from the ground. you wait by the door, watching his every move as he walks in.

you point to your kitchen chair, he sits - he's so imposing, your kitchen seems smaller with him in it - and you immediately rush for a pack of beans from the freezer and a towel.

"put this on your cherk," you instruct and disappear somwhere further inside the flat. he watches you.

when you come back you have rubbing alcohol, cotton pads and a packet of band-aids. simon begins to stand.

"'s not necessary. 's barely a scratch, ma'am."

you don't even look at him as you set the stuff down. he stares at you. "no, no, i feel terrible - the least i can do is fix your face."

"you sayin' my mug is ugly?"

you pause, head snapping to the side to meet the stranger's eyes. you frown, another apology ready to escape your lips.

he's smirking. right corner of his lips tilted up. he's joking. your shoulders sag and you exhale with a smile.

"no, your face is quite nice, stranger."

it is. strong features, long nose - looks to have been broken a hundred times - some scars here and there, long eyelashes and pretty brown eyes.

"simon. simon riley."

simon. nice name - suits him. friend of johnny's, you remember. probably military, judging by the width of his back. and the unintenional scrutinising and intimidating gaze.

you introduce yourself, breath hitching when he repeats your first name slowly.

"pretty name." you shrug, grabbing a wet cotton pad and slowly moving it towards him. he doesn't pull away, and you press it against the small scratch on his cheek as he speaks. "suppose a pretty girl deserves a pretty name."

you chuckle, heat rising up your neck and spreading to your cheeks as you move on to the pack of band-aids.

"so, you know johnny?" you ask.

"saved his ugly mug a coupl'a times. we're spending christmas here."

your smile falters as you stick the small band-aid on his cheek (only now realising it has anakin skywalker printed on it). you're once again reminded of how lonely you'll be during christmas. simon notices it, but hesitates asking if you're okay.

"sorry for the uh, band-aid. uh, i don't have any normal ones." he brushes it off with a shake of his head. "you're good to go, now. i'm sure you have things to do."

simon silently gets up and grabs his things, all while watching you put your coat and scarf back on. whatever light you had on your face moments before is gone, and he's trying to figure out what he said wrong to cause this.

he follows you out of the flat, mind forming different ways to ask if something's wrong. he can't help but ask when he hears you sigh heavily, almost defeated.

"you okay, love?"

"huh—what?" you look at him once and then continue locking your door.

"you alright? did i say something that upset you?"

your smile returns with his words, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"no, i'm all good, don't worry. just don't want to go for groceries in the freezing cold, ya know?" he nods, jiggling johnny's keys in his hands. "anyway, it was nice meeting you, simon. and i'm really sorry for thinking you're an intruder and hitting you with my umbrella and whatnot. i hope to see you around - have fun!"

and before he can ask where you're spending your christmas, or why you're going to the supermarket instead of packing to go back to wherever your home is - your accent clearly indicates you're not from edinburgh, as if the books, pens, and scattered notebooks at your home were not enough - you're walking down the stairs and dissappear from his eyesight.

simon stands for a moment before turning to the door again. you're interesting, to say the least, and you said his face was...nice - he doesn't get that often. and you have band-aids with Star Wars characters, and you laughed at his joke. and you were brave enough to attack him when you thought he was a burglar.

yeah, he hopes to see you around too.

[daemonbrain]

Part 1

3.5k, cw: ghosts a pervert and stalker, readers husband is a piece of work, brief mentions of sex, explicit, not proofread

Simon Riley wasn’t one for the romantics, he was a simple man. Wake up early in the morning just as he would on base, complete his training regimen, take a quick shower, and rot away in his one bedroom one bathroom apartment until he's recalled for a mission. A mundane life for the soldier who dealt with life-or-death circumstances just as many times as he’s brewed himself a cup of tea.

But even Simon had things to look forward to. After enduring the monotonous routine of his week he’d practically sprint to the butcher's shop, not for love of the finer cuts of meat one could find, but to see his bird. 

Still the fittest thing he had ever seen, your relationship evolved from standing with your back turned to his debauched stares to you actually saying hello to him. Slowly hello turned to little conversations. By conversations, it mainly consisted of you prattling on about one thing or another while Simon grunted out a short “yeah?” or “hm.” Sometimes he felt bad that his pretty little thing who always had endless things to say spoke to him, someone who was pretty much a brick wall in conversation.

But, ah well. He couldn’t think of you banging on the headboard while he fucked you and fully pay attention to what was said in his defense.

At times he didn’t know whether to scold or praise your ability to dole out kindness to even a cold bastard like him. A stranger was what he was, and you still managed to speak to him as if he were any other man you’d meet on the street.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. Not with the things he has done to others. Things that would send your pretty little head toppling off your shoulders if you knew. Not with the way he prowled behind as you shakily made your way up the slippery sidewalk, plastic bag with groceries in hand.

He didn’t deserve it, but he was sure as hell certain your fuckwit of a husband definitely didn’t deserve it. That prick left you walking alone and cold the whole way home, letting you know minutes before he was supposed to pick you up from the butcher’s shop. 

That pathetic guy didn’t want to take care of his wife? Didn’t want to pay attention to his girl? Well fine, he didn’t need to. Simon would. 

As if it physically pained him to watch you have to lift a finger, he sped up his pace and loudly cleared his throat from behind.

Whirling around in fright, your tensed shoulder immediately relax upon meeting Simon’s eyes. Your body shivered from the winds, yet you beamed at him with the warmth of the fuckin’ sun. 

“Simon! What are you doing here?” You chirped out in greeting, clasping your hands together as the bag dangled from your fingers. You waited for him to stalk up to you, broody as ever. 

His pretty little songbird, who tweets out her hellos even when the frigid weather demands a more mellow tone.

In his usual unsettling manner, he stops right in front of you. “I live up this way.” He lied. 

“Really?! I’ve never seen you coming up this way.” He was so close. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at your face, cheeks and nose probably frozen from the biting wind. Your brows furrowed in what he assumed to be suspicion, and he truly wondered for the first time if you actually had a semblance of survival instinct after all.

Raising a brow, he points to a random building in the distance. He picked something far enough away from your own home to quell any unease.You lived in that reddish-brown building about two blocks away. Though you’ve never told him that.

“Just righ’ up there. Usually don’t go this way, but the other route is closed off.”

Your furrowed brows quickly correct themselves at his words and you assume your resting expression, one much softer. “Well… we might as well head up together then!” You laughed in joy and Simon felt his cock twitch for similar reasons. It seems the concept of “stranger danger” wasn’t drilled into your head hard enough during your formative years. 

He’d never dream of doing something to hurt your cheery demeanor, but he couldn’t say the same for others. People can be nasty and, if you survived this long without that bubble being burst, he’d be more than happy to tear apart the prick who’d try. Pricks like your husband.

Wasn’t it a soldier's duty to protect the peace? Something like that anyways. 

He noticed the way your poor fingers stiffly held on to the bag, the weight harder to carry because of the chill in the air. His hands itched to help.

You quirked your head to the side due to his lack of anything to say and Simon merely jutted his head towards what you carried, “Give it ‘ere.” Your mouth opens to protest, but Simon doesn’t give you the opportunity as he easily plucks the bag from your hands. “Come on,” He began to walk again while ignoring his bird’s shrill whistles of objection to his help “You’ll catch a cold out ‘ere if we don get’cha inside soon.”

Catching up to his long strides, you approach from the right and sigh. You’re inclined to tell him it’s really not necessary, but the heat that bloomed in your chest as a result of his breathy chuckle interrupted you.

You didn’t even need to ask him to help... he just did. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered about his large frame, and he was huge. You had to admit the first time you had spoken to Simon you were a bit rattled when you stuck your hand out to shake his. It was maddening the way he never made a sound, the way his steps quietly padded along the floor when he went up to the counter at the butcher’s shop to pay. 

Occasionally you felt your skin prickle everytime he stood behind you. Whenever you gathered the courage to take a peek you would be met with the sight of him tapping away at his phone without a care, hood of his jacket concealing most of his face. 

Though you could’ve sworn his phone was upside down once?

Cars whizzed past and you shook away those thoughts. Simon happens to be a quiet type, nothing to judge him for. 

“... Thank you. You know, you’re a real nice guy.” Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, Simon slows his steps just enough to move behind you. “Simon?” You turn your head side-to-side in confusion as he nudges his way to your other side.

“Wha’?” He huffed while putting himself between you and the road. 

Odd.

The two of you got closer to the building and in a practiced stop you both pause at the entrance. About to speak again, you’re cut off by the loud ring of your phone. Looking down you see your husband's photo pop up on the screen. With a sigh, you hold up a finger to your companion and answer.

“Hey hun, is something wrong? You said you had a meeting?” You could hear the exhale of annoyance which escaped him before he responded.

“I’m working late tonight. I can’t make it for dinner. Make sure to leave me a plate before you go to bed though.” Of course. He was always late nowadays. One project or another he would say before rolling to face away when you asked him about his day before bed. 

You were his wife! You’d make time for him no matter what, and normally you wouldn’t want to be a bother, but the way tears threatened to bead your waterline in frustration caused your voice to harden a fraction.

“Again? Really? They’re working you a bit hard, don’t you thi-” 

“I have work. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You blink owlishly at Simon who looks back in silence. You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Slowly, you pull your phone away from your ear both saddened by your husband's cold words but also the humiliation of your new friend witnessing the way you were clearly hung up on by your own spouse.

You wanted to turn heel and retreat into the privacy of your apartment. Cook up a meal which will grow cold on the counter and curl into your bed while incessantly tracking the minutes until you hear the door open.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to burn a hole through your phone, and he waited for you to gather yourself.

“I- um,” letting out an awkward chortle, you scratch the back of your neck. “Looks like I'm alone for dinner tonight.” You managed a disingenuous smile. Simon didn’t seem like the type to be able to pick up on subtle social cues like that, you doubt he’d think anything of your words.

“Well I better get back inside… it's freezing out here. Thanks for your help with my bags I-I just have to get started on cooking right now, so.” You reached for your groceries and saw the strange look in his eyes soften a bit. As you pivot towards the entrance, you hear a gruff call.

“ ‘m pretty hungry righ now.”

…How could you be such an idiot! He carries your bags for you, probably chilled to the point of numbness, and you don’t even invite him in for something to eat. Not even a hot drink. All because of your own selfish discomfort?!

“Oh gosh, that was rude of me. Simon, you wanna come in? I have enough to whip you up a plate if you’d like. A ‘cuppa’ as well. Is that what you say?” You asked.

Simon was a kind man. He was intimidating, but surely it was okay to let him into your personal space. After all, the only person who would object to his presence was currently holed up at his office.

“Brought it up for a reason. That’d be great, love.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pattered in your rib cage at the endearing pet name. Kind words from a kind man. That’s all. You willed your heart to slow with images of your husband, to whom you had the utmost respect for.

The two of you made your way up to the spacious apartment. You bent over to unlace your shoes and take off your coat. It doesn’t go unnoticed how it took Simon a moment to follow suit. When he stood to his full height, a gentle warmth swelled within you when met with the sight of his broad build in the now seemingly small walls of your home. He looked as though he crowded the room more than any of the furniture.

You felt a bit hazy when you moved to the kitchen. You shouted back to Simon who stood put at the door, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable! Go ahead and sit down anywhere.”

Like a flower, you needed your fix of sunlight. You had lots of windows in your apartment to let the natural light in, a giant one looking into your living room. Simon would see you watching your silly shows, tapping away at your laptop while snuggled under a blanket in this very spot. Soon he’d show you the value of privacy, closing the blinds, locking everything before bed. 

There were shady people in the world. Those who’d feed off of your sweet carelessness like it was the best thing to touch their depraved mouths. That wasn’t fair to his bird. 

“ ‘m gonna go to the loo.” and before you even had the chance to give him directions, you watched the Brit make his way to the restroom unprompted.

It wasn’t fair, but he would make it fair. He would keep those bastards far away from you, guard your blissful paradise. Keep you ignorant.

So what if his methods were unconventional? So what if he’s followed you home dozens of times. It was to keep you safe. So what if he spent any free time he had watching you through the windows from the building across yours. 

Closing the door behind him, his lips quirked up at the sight of your things strewn about. Makeup, hair products, lotions taking up all the space on your side of the sink. In the mirror, his eyes caught on the laundry hamper sat in the corner. He had been here once before.

So what if he has come into your apartment during the late hours just to catch a whiff of your scent. Just to pull the blanket you had knocked off, deep asleep, while on the couch waiting for your prick husband. You needed someone. He could do good by you, or at least try his hardest to.

With practiced ease, he turns to open the hamper. Hands grabbing with the eagerness of unwrapping a present only to be met with a sorry sight.

“For fuck sakes”  He whispered.

You and your cleaning. The damn thing had been emptied out of all things with your lovely fragrance, tossed in the wash. With the quick roll of his eyes, he quietly puts the lid back on to the stupid thing.

He had been much luckier last time. After taking it upon himself to sneak in and close a window you left wide open, he had the urge to explore around. Fast forward to when he arrived at his treasure chest (the laundry basket) he was rewarded for his considerate act. He had nabbed a dirty pair of panties with sheer ecstacy. 

In the natural progression of things, his cock had hardened with urgency. He had stroked himself eagerly to the thought of your soft, snoozing breaths. A bead of pre-cum already poised to roll down his shaft. You drove him mad, only a few walls separating the two of you. He could walk over to you now, shove your legs apart and sink himself into paradise, in pure euphoria. He continued to jerk himself to the edge of his peak. He had taken in the sight of everything from your loofah to your robe to the pink toothbrush unobtrusively in the corner.

A shiver went down his spine as he looked at the very same toothbrush at present. He wondered how many times you had unassumingly used it since that night.

Images of his desperation flooding back, a hint of something akin to guilt. He had squeezed your panties to his face as if he was trying to suffocate himself, impatiently grabbing for anything else that could connect him to you when he felt himself begin to strain under the stimulation. He had grunted when your scent filled his nostrils, unlike how his balls emptied themselves, his release spurting all over your toothbrush.

When he came back to his senses, he had turned the coated thing over and over in his hand. You’d be none the wiser if he just… washed it off, right? No harm in something you wouldn’t know about. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than lightly run it under the tap.

“Simon! Food is ready!” You shouted. Breaking from his stupor, he steps out of the restroom and moves back to the counter overlooking the kitchen. You gave him that sweet grin while setting the food in front of him.

“Looks delicious, love. Thanks.”

You sat on the seat beside him with a plate of your own. You both tensed at the proximity for the same reason. Taking your first few bites, you look at Simon who blissfully closes his eyes and groans with satisfaction.

That warm feeling begins to simmer in your belly wrongfully so. You turn back to chew before breaking the silence. “I’m glad! It’s been a while since i’ve sat down and ate with someone… it’s a lot different to watch someone actually enjoy something you put effort into.” He didn’t miss the wistful expression you wore. He wanted to fix it, he never wanted to see that pretty mouth fighting stay curved upwards.

Whether it be unknowingly or not, you brushed your knee against and for a moment you both paused in that position. The touch was light but it felt as though Simon’s body was overloaded with only you. Your touch, your eyes, your everything.

It took himself a second to recompose himself, but when he realized your body stayed put; his heart just about soared. Taking another forkful of food, he casually glanced at you and nudged his knee unmistakably to yours. The sound of your cutlery clanging onto the plate gives him a degree of satisfaction.

You simply kept looking down to your plate, whatever was in front of you, anything except his intense stare. Simon was a stranger. Simon was unsettling. Simon was in your home. Simon was so strong, so large he could manhandle you in ways your husband could never.

Your husband. Your life partner who you’ve remained loyal to for years. This was so wrong. You should be leaping out of your chair and separating yourself by 3 meters at least in protest.

So how come you allowed his hand to grip your thigh? You frowned, yet surrendered to his fingers which tilted your face towards him. You didn’t know Simon, but you’d be dense to miss the dark glint in his eyes as he takes in your hesitancy.

How the tables have turned. It was always you who initiated interaction with the morose giant, but as he held you firm in his clutches, you could only sit in wait for his next move. 

Testing your reaction, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. Braving his gaze, you could only recognize want. He pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw as you tilted your chin upwards. You weren’t sure whether it was to avoid his lips or grant him better access to your neck.

“No no no come back to me. Come back.” He urged you carding his other hand through your hair, tugging you back. He had to see his bird's face, commit her to memory. Would her expression be like what he imagined? Better?

With a shaky raise of your arm, you caress his face with uncertainty. He needed to fuck you. The most depraved, wicked parts of his mind demanded it. His blood went straight down south at your gentle touch. He needed you to feel him, to feel all of him. 

He would protect you from all the perversions those other tossers had to offer, with only one thing in return. To corrupt you from the inside with his own special brand filth. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in your hair.

“I wanna fuck you,” he leaned closer to your ear and nipped it “and I have a feeling my pretty bird wants the same thing, yeah?”

Simon’s words sent a jolt to your brain to sink further into the daze. Your lips parted and you turned to him with round eyes hiding the temptation swirling behind them. Your eyes wildly roved across his face, searching

He carried your things, he called you pretty, he ate your food, he talked to you, he wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him-

His impatience got the better of him when he pulled you into a frantic kiss. His lips were warm and the feeling of his hands holding you secure and upright only added fuel to the fire. How would they hold you when he took you to your bed? Would he be so kind?

Had Simon known your phone would ring loudly moments before finally getting what he wanted, he would have broken it with his own bare hands.

Your eyes cracked open to only be met with the sight of your husband’s contact photo and all at once your guilt hurtled at you. Sensing you pulling away, Simon couldn’t help but try and keep you to him for even a moment longer. He knew it was over when you pushed at his chest to break the connection.

“I’m- oh my gosh. I… i’m a horrible person! Shit! Shit!” You spiraled as you hurriedly got up from your seat and backed away from Simon as if his touch had burned you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay-” He attempted to console you, but was sharply interrupted with a tone he had yet to hear from you.

“No, no! You need to leave. Get out, please!” You screeched in shame. As Simon once again tried to approach closer to placate you, you only put a hand up with a hard look. “Leave. We shouldn’t have done that, it was a total betrayal of trust!” 

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, ‘m gone.” His arms went up in surrender as he mirrored your own backward movements.

Your mind really went blank as you took deep breaths to calm yourself, Simon’s heavy footfalls receding and eventually fading from earshot entirely.

While you focused on calming yourself from your “mistaken” judgement, Simon could only think of one thing. 

If his bird couldn’t be happy because that fuckin’ asshole was still in the picture, he’d have to weed out the problem from the root.

He was a dead man walking.