#his fucking jawline that could cut diamond

[frnkiebby]

his sweet little face~🎃

[rahuratna]

Blue Moon

Summary: A series of occasions when the JJK sorcerers required your comforting embrace ...

(x Reader)

Featuring: Gojo, Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

Genre: Fluff, romance, humour.

CW: Suggestive language.

Gojo

"On a scale of 10 to 11, how blue do my eyes look this morning?"

"Satoru, what do you want?"

One arm raised, elbow crooked in nonchalant allure against the doorframe, Satoru blinks in feigned innocence. He shifts such that the torso-hugging shirt he has on slides against each defined line of his pectorals.

"I just wanna know. It's nice to hear how handsome I am, from time to time."

"Seriously?"

He cradles his chin between thumb and forefinger.

"I mean, my jawline alone can cut diamonds - "

"Come here."

He grins, having conveyed his message clearly, if a tad ham-handedly. Elbow dropping from the doorframe, he steps into the bedroom, his tall frame stooping until his nose is level with yours.

If you intended to initiate anything at all, you can shelve that idea. Satoru's arms are already sliding around your waist, drawing you impossibly close. His face drops to your shoulder, blowing a playful puff of air against you before he presses into the crook of your neck.

He feels solid in your arms, present. A cloud of pale hair, silky and fragrant, drifts across your vision. The scent of him is warm, vital, alive. You trace gently across the contours of his back before your embrace finally encloses him, feeling his exhale blow heatedly against your skin.

These are the rare occasions when he seeks you out for reassurance under the guise of mischievous ribbing, when he grounds himself in the staid, reliable nature of your presence, when he needs you.

Slowly parting from him, you glance up at the slightly muted brilliance of his glance, the softness that hovers at the edges of that almost ethereal countenance.

"Ready for work?"

"I am now."

You pat him solidly in the middle of his chest, resting your palm there for a minute before pushing him towards the door. The residual humidity of his breath lingers on your throat.

"Now hurry up and go, before I get sliced with that lethal jawline."

Kusakabe

"And then I said, why the heck can't we just take the safe route, not track through the fucking woods in pitch darkness, with a hurricane lamp that could attract every goddamn curse in the region - "

Atsuya cuts off, the scrape of the blade through the lather on his chin punctuating each point he deemed significant.

" - but of course, they didn't wanna hear it. "That's what sorcerers do, they take the dark path." Ha. They can take that poetic allegory shit and shove it."

You complete the task of drying yourself, fingers tracing lightly over the muscled wall of his back as you pass him, reaching for the hairdryer plugged into the wall just outside.

"Were there any injuries?"

"Miwa got a few scratches, but nothing serious."

He rinses off the blade, white foam circling around the drain of the sink before raising his arm again, skin appearing through the curtain of white on the sharp edges of his cheek.

"I told those kids before, you can't rely on anyone else. In a sticky situation, you gotta analyse the environment, know your opponent, observe their abilities, think and act at the same time - "

The noise of the hairdryer temporarily drowns out his voice, and he turns slightly as he sees your smile. You reach for him with your free arm, hair blowing across your face, and he grunts in amusement.

"I've still got shaving cream all over - "

"And when has that ever stopped you?"

No further convincing is needed because Atsuya's bare chest is now against your back, his arms coming up and around your middle, strong fingers linking securely over your abdomen. The coarse scattering of hair across his torso tickles between your shoulder blades. The heat of him is intoxicating, as always.

You squirm slightly in his grasp as the cool shaving cream smears across your shoulder, where he rests his chin, the dim light of the bathroom temporarily shading the green of his eyes to a subtle olive. Prickles of stubble, tender as the new growth of shoots in spring, sink into your still-damp skin.

You turn off the hairdryer, for now. You can't help yourself when your Atsuya is this close, the clean, warm scent of him wrapping around you, infinitely soft. You press your lips in a trail across his cheek, watching as his eyes close, as the rigidity of his powerful shoulders ease under your ministrations.

Drawing away, you see his eyes flick sideways at you, and you can feel the laugh that reverberates like low thunder through his chest. Your face is smeared with white.

"If you wanted to shave too, you should have just said so."

"What if I said I borrowed one of your shaving blades for my legs?"

"No wonder they're so silky smooth."

"Not as smooth as that tongue of yours."

"And you're the first person who's ever thought so."

Nanami

Kento had been pristine, as always, when he'd left home. You'd seen his clothes prepared the previous day, the suit and shirt hung neatly against the closet, socks laid aside, shoes polished to high shine.

You'd watched him comb back his hair that morning, your fingers gently caressing his undercut as you'd made your way to the kitchen to deal with breakfast. You'd watched the small smile curve the corner of his mouth as he'd fastened his watch in place.

Orderly and somewhat fastidious, was your Kento, punctual to a fault, even in the way he kissed you at exactly 8 am at the door, the Jujutsu Tech vehicle waiting outside to swallow him into its cool, dim interior.

His lips had lingered softly on yours, as always, stealing moments from the impatient clock on the wall behind you. You'd straightened his tie, one palm smoothing the slightly hollowed cheek (which had filled out a little recently with your cooking) and then you'd stepped back and treasured the softening of his eyes before the glasses were placed firmly on the bridge of his nose.

So, it was with a sense of growing concern that you watched the same clock that had governed your separation that morning. He was three hours late, and counting. He'd managed to send a brief message earlier that day, that things were gearing up to be a little troublesome. Still, you worried.

You always had.

At 10 pm, the sound of the key slotting into the latch heralds his return. Kento pushes the door open, a heavy sigh reaching your ears as you approach.

He is no longer pristine.

His hair hangs down to his eyes, greasy and disshevelled, the tie nowhere to be seen. His shirt is stained and crusted with darker patches under the arms and across his chest and back. His pants are ripped and you see the bandages beneath where he must have received treatment already. His tired eyes meet yours, and you hold out your arms to him. A soft laugh sounds against the noise of the pot bubbling on the stove.

"I'm filthy. And covered in - "

"Do you see me complaining? No more questions, love."

He grumbles good naturedly, but you know that he not-so-secretly loves it when you take charge at home.

In one stride, he is within the welcoming bracket of your arms, head drooping tiredly against the softness of your chest. He is tall enough that the position is slightly awkward, but he has anchored himself to you for support, and you brace your knees as you take his weight.

He smells of sweat, dirt and something damp and unpleasant that reminds you distinctly of a sewer. You smile and bury your nose into his hair, the unique, masculine scent of him, of Kento, now cutting through the other distractions.

You hold him like this, cradling his head close, whispering soft endearments meant only for his ears, until the stretch in his spine wears him out. He rouses from your embrace, eyes puffy and a trifle unfocused. Long lashes brush slowly together and he yawns.

"Had a good rest there?"

His voice rumbles delightfully through your frame where you are still pressed together, mellow and slightly slurred within the familiarity of these walls.

"A most peaceful one."

You tap the area where his head had been a few moments ago.

"Would you like to rent this space out, sir? It's available, every evening after five."

There it is, that quiet, mischievous smile, the one that spreads tender crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.

"Only after I've inspected it thoroughly, ma'am."

Ijichi

You pause in the doorway. Kiyotaka is pacing the courtyard outside, phone balanced between shoulder and ear. He flips aggravatedly through the folder in his hands.

"Yes, yes, I understand - No - I will - Listen, please. Yes, company cars are expensive, I know better than anyone. However, forcing a trainee to shoulder the full burden of compensation just because he - "

He notices you, out of the corner of his eye. You wave to him and gesture to the files in your hand. He gives a harried nod before a frown marrs his brow.

"No, no, I don't think the fact that he saw a spirit and screamed like a little girl, as you put it, affects his level of accountability in any way. Our policy states that - "

In two quick paces, you reach him, snatching the phone out of his hand. Barking sharply at the person on the other end, you complete his statement.

"Our policy clearly indicates that trainees are exempt from damages incurred during any coursework. And that includes driving. Goodbye."

Ending the call, you huff out an annoyed breath before handing the phone gently back to him. He sighs and you see his glance hover sideways, alighting on the files you're holding. You dismiss his concerns with a wave of your hand.

"Oh, these can wait. Don't worry. How about we go in and have some coffee?"

"Actually ..."

"Yes?"

"I'dratherhaveahug."

"Pardon?"

"I'd ... rather have a hug."

"Oh!"

Your eyes widen slightly as you drop the files haphazardly on a nearby bench. Ijichi eyes them worriedly. 

"Wait, what if the wind - "

"Then we'll say Fushiguro's dogs ate them."

"Eh?"

You laugh at his bewildered expression before tugging lightly on his tie, drawing him close. A flush steals over his cheeks, as you lean in and brush your nose against his, fingers slipping from the tie to the surprisingly strong line of his shoulders.

"Here's the hug you ordered."

"W - Well, yes, but let's be - "

He cuts off as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, one hand sliding stealthily under his coat to caress his back. You feel his Adam's apple bob as he returns the gesture, relaxing slightly into the embrace as his breathing evens out, stirring your hair slightly.

You both stay this way for some time, as the wind whistles in the corners between the statues all around you, mercifully leaving the files intact. You lean back and are about to release him when his hand clasps firmly on the small of your back, and he dips you, smiling as your delighted laugh echoes within the enclosed yard.

As he draws you back up into a brief kiss, you marvel at his sudden bravery. But then again, this is what you love most about Kiyotaka. As shy, anxious, stressed and fatigued as he is (mostly), there was a side to him that always warmed you pleasantly when your thoughts drifted to him.

He was the man who brought you regional treats from wherever his job happened to take him, who made sure that you were safe at all hours of the day, who would pursue you with an umbrella when you'd forgotten yours, who ensured that you'd eaten on time, even when he was swamped with work.

As you separate, you see that in spite of his daring, debeonair action, his ears have turned a startling shade of scarlet. You pinch one of them lightly and smirk.

"Looks like you've been eating spicy food again."

He clears his throat.

"The only spicy thing I've consumed is ... you."

Slapping a hand against your chest in feigned shock, you gasp theatrically.

"Why, Kiyotaka! How positively scandalous!"

A rare grin crosses his tired features.

"If you really want to see scandalous, you should have a look at Yaga's internet search history."

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: 18+ only! forced arranged marriage, strong language. (Y/D/N + Y/M/N = your mom and dads names)

likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated<3

part two

❥ marrying the enemy — r.c

Y/N

I’ve always known my father had some fucked up trick up his sleeve for my life. I always knew he’d pawn me off somehow, someway. Anything to make a quick buck, right? The thought alone sends me spiraling. Makes me see red. Anger. Shame. Fear. All the emotions that swirl through my mind as I pace my father’s in-home study, awaiting the arrival of none other than Rafe Cameron and his father, Ward Cameron.

I’m not one hundred percent sure what it is my father has planned, but I do know if it involves me being in the room, waiting on Rafe and Ward to arrive for a “meeting” as my dad put it. It can’t be good.

“Please sit down and stop pacing, sweetheart. You’re making me nervous” My father says, snapping me back into the cruel reality that is my life.

I stare back at him for a moment, mouth slightly parted in shock. I’m making him nervous? What about me? And my feelings? I was happy just an hour ago. Sitting in my room, studying for my upcoming final exam, when my father knocks on my door, letting me know my presence is needed in his study. When I asked him why? He told me that the Cameron’s were coming over, and that we had things to discuss. Things that would benefit both of our families tremendously.

Letting out a deep and frustrated sigh, I obey. I plop myself onto the large black leather couch that’s sat against the back wall of his office. I chew at the skin of my lower lip, anxiously scanning the length of the room. I have so many questions. What role could I possibly play in this “family benefiting” situation? I have my theory, but I absolutely hate the thought, so I quickly shove it down.

A few minutes pass, awkward silence and tension fill the air. As I open my mouth to ask what exactly I’m doing here, a knock sounds on the door, making me audibly clamp my mouth shut.

“Doors open” My father says calmly.

I’m not sure why, but now my hands are clammy. Shaking. Anxiety has crawled all the way up my spine, making me sit up right, resting my elbows on my knees that are now anxiously bouncing up and down.

The door is pushed open, and in walks Rafe and Ward. They’re both so different. If they didn’t look so similar, you wouldn’t know that Rafe was Ward’s son. Ward is dressed in a three piece suit with a white button up underneath, shiny black shoes and his hair is done to perfection. Rafe on the other hand is dressed in a simple pair of denim jeans, a tight black t-shirt, and a pair of black and white Nikes. His hair is messy, parted in the middle and giving him the ‘just rolled out of bed’ effect.

No one can deny how attractive Rafe is though. Even I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed the Cameron boy’s good looks. He has perfectly plump pink lips that seem to always be drawn into a frown, his eyes are so blue, like the ocean on a cloudless day— you could drown in his eyes — a perfectly defined jawline that could cut diamonds. And his body? Lets just say the few times I’ve hung out with his sister, Sarah, and we’d be lounging by the pool, Rafe and his friends would love to come terrorize us, and I couldn’t ever break my eyes off of his perfectly sculpted body. Hard defined chest and abdomen, tanned, smooth skin. Rafe Cameron is what I’d imagine a Greek God to look like.

But he’s also got a nasty drug habit. A God complex. He truly believes he’s God’s gift to mankind, and that in itself makes him the ugliest person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t miss the glare he shoots my way the minute he sees me sitting on the couch. The look in his eyes is so angry, so lifeless. It makes me even more terrified of what’s about to be said in this room. He knows something I don’t, and that is terrifying.

“Thank you for having us over today Y/D/N, I know it was short notice, but Rose and I felt it’s best to get a move on things” Ward says simply, giving away nothing.

Rafe snorts, rolling his eyes as he finds a seat in front of my father’s desk. He crosses his arms across his chest, slumping into the chair and spreading his legs wide.

“Not a problem, Ward. Y/M/N and I agree, it’s time we get this process moving”

Getting annoyed with the beating around the bush they’re playing at, I stand from the couch. “What… What are we talking about? Get what moving?”

My voice sounds small and weak, pulling another forced laugh from Rafe’s chest. He turns his head, blue eyes finding mine as he says, “Oh. You don’t know?”

“Know… Know what?”

“Our parents are making-” Rafe begins but his dad cuts him off.

“That’s enough, Rafe! Sit there and don’t speak unless we say. Got it?”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, but I pay him no mind. Instead, my heated gaze is strictly on my father. His eyes have a small hint of empathy in them, but not much.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Come sit, would you?” He asks.

I try and swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, but I can’t seem to. My entire body is frozen in fear. My mind is racing. I knew Rafe knew something from the moment he stepped foot into this room. The air is thick, and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I don’t dwell on that right now. Instead, I hesitantly make my way over to the chair beside Rafe, slowly sitting down and crossing my ankles together underneath the seat.

Ward clears his throat, “So. As you both know, Cameron Developments has been wanting to merge together with Y/L/N Industries. We think the best way to make our businesses grow and merge together into one big company instead of two working together, is by having one child from each family to be married. And since Sarah is dating John B. and Wheezie is only thirteen, that leaves me with Rafe.” Ward pauses, thinking on how to continue with his spiel. “Your brother is only seventeen, so that couldn’t work. So that leaves you, Y/N.”

I pinch my brows together. I must’ve been hit over the head with a two-ton brick because there’s no way he just said married.

“I- I don’t follow…” I say honestly.

Rafe chuckles, lolling his head to the side so his eyes meet mine once more. “They’re saying we have to get married, princess. Total bullshit, I know. But apparently, we have no choice.”

Ward ignores his son, his eyes finding mine as he takes in a deep breath. “Rafe is right. Albeit his attitude needs some adjustment, he’s right. The two of you are to be married. Your father and I have signed all the necessary paperwork, and all that is left to be done now is get you and Rafe married. As soon as possible.”

My mouth is stuck in an ‘O’ shape, shock and anger rushes through my body. I probably look like an idiot from having my mouth wide open, but I simply do not care. How could my parents do this to me? Pawn me off like I’m a game winning prize? To Rafe fucking Cameron of all people too. All for what? Money? Merging two very successful businesses into one? None of it makes sense. And it’s unfair.

My father’s stern voice pulls me from the thoughts swirling in my mind, “Sweetheart, close your mouth.”

I snap my lips shut, my eyes narrowed into slits on my father. “Daddy. You can’t be fucking serious..”

“Language, Y/N!” He snaps, and I can’t bite back the scoff that escapes me. He has the nerve to say something about my cursing rather than explain why the fuck he’s forcing me to marry… Rafe…

“I’m serious, dad! I’m not marrying him! I don’t love him! Hell, I don’t even like him! You can’t make me marry him!” I snap back.

Rafe snorts beside me. “You think I wanna fucking marry you? The prude, Kook princess who thinks she’s better than everyone else?”

I open my mouth, a sharp comeback sitting at the tip of my tongue, but Ward’s booming voice makes me snap my mouth shut again.

“Rafe! That’s enough. We’ve discussed this, and this is happening. The two of you will just have to learn how to tolerate one another”

My gaze trails back to my father. He’s sitting back in his black leather office chair, his hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. His eyes are void of any emotion. No anger. No sympathy. Nothing.

“Daddy…”

“Sweetheart, this is final. I’m sorry, but Ward is right. This is happening. We’re announcing the engagement this weekend, your mother and Rose have already started planning everything. The wedding will take place in one months time. You will become a Cameron. You both will be doing our family a huge favor.”

I shake my head, a scoff escaping me once again. Standing from my seat, I push my way past Ward and stomp out of my father’s office. I don’t even care if I’m acting like a child right now. I’m being forced to marry Rafe Cameron. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

RAFE TAGLIST: @targaryenbarbie @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @uraesthete @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @kamninaries @biggesthat3r

rafe cameron masterlist | series masterlist | taglist form

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

There is so much goodness in this picture!

Yes obvi his lucious cakes that are SO pinchable and grabable but

The facial expressions! The range in these three snapshots of him are so SO well done.

Fuck and his jawline! Could cut diamonds on that badboy

His ...solid...sexy ass physique!!!

His teethies look at his fuckin chompers

UGHHHH i always always love your art and this is another piece to a fucking immaculate collection

Give the man an empanada, he needs to chill out for a second

Still figuring out Miguel I guess

I'd write "Las empanadas deberían ser eternas" as a meme reference, but is not that popular around here I think

[pet1teyn]

chapter two: an invitation calls to us

previous <- masterlist -> next

Y/N smiled as she watched her appa leave her room. She felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulder after confiding with her daddy.

But soon her attention turned to something else as her conversation with her dad was long forgotten. 

“FUCK! I STILL NEED A PARTY DRESS” Y/N exclaimed. 

Leaping up from her bed, Y/N scrambled to her bathroom to redo her makeup and hair before leaving her room.

She raced down the stairs and grabbed her keys before bolting out the door. She unlocked the door of her bubblegum pink Tesla and slid into her hot pink leather seats. Y/N put her hands on her rhinestone-studded flamingo-pink fluffy steering wheel and backed out of the driveway. 

All of a sudden, she felt her car hit something.

“FUCK MY LIFE!” she gasped. “WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST RUN OVER! I LITERALLY CANNOT PAY FOR INSURANCE. I DON’T WANNA GO TO JAIL,” Y/N wailed as she blinked her long curly eyelashes repeatedly. 

Hesitantly, she opened the door of her bubblegum pink car and stepped outside. She slowly walked to the front of her car, her tiny fists ready to punch anything that might jump at her. 

She jumped back 3 feet as her eyes laid on a peculiar sight. 

Dirty blonde locks caressed a beautiful, but unconscious, face from the man underneath her car. His features were angular, yet delicate. He had thick and straight eyebrows that framed his doe-like eyes and complimented his high-set nose. He had beauty marks on his face but instead of detracting from his beauty, they only added to it. His lips looked soft and contrasted with his razor-sharp jawline that looked like it could cut diamond.

The only thing that tainted his near perfect face was the crimson red blood running down his forehead. 

Y/N took a moment to examine the ethereal being that laid in front of her. For a moment she forgot the emergency at hand. 

Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance and began pacing in front of her car trying to think of what to do.

The beautiful man groaned and rolled over. Y/N gasped and fumbled her phone out of her pink crocodile leather handbag.

“Wait,” the man said, staring deeply into her eyes as his hand gently grasped her wrist. His voice was smooth, rich, and velvety. It drew Y/N in, like a moth to a flame, helpless in the face of subtle seduction.

“Omo!” She gasped, trying to break away from his iron grasp. But he held her there, staring deeply into her cerulean orbs.

“Were you the bitch that ran over me,” the man in front of her growled.

“I-I-I-I’m s-so ss-sorry, sir-nim-oppa-nim,” Y/N stuttered adorably.

But that only angered the man in front of her more as he yanked Y/N towards him until their faces were millimeters apart.

Y/N felt his warm breath fanning her face and she almost sighed at how nice he smelled. He smelled minty and floral, with rich lemony undertones but a strange irony tang.

Suddenly, Y/N yelped as she forcefully tugged her tiny wrists away from the strange but majestic man in front of her. She bolted back to her bubblegum pink car and drove away gripping her rhinestone studded steering wheel in fear as her knuckles turned white.

“Oh my god. What a freak. Like, he’s hot, but still weird af,” Y/N muttered to herself, chewing on her lip, as she drove to the Chanel store.

When she got there, she stepped out of her car and sashayed to the store. 

“Hello, mistress Y/N,” growled the man who opened the door for her. 

Y/N ignored him and strutted to the designer dress aisle.

“Hmmmm. How about no,” she said, tossing aside a velvet burgundy floor-length ball gown. “Too tacky.”

Y/N continued looking through the rack before giving up. There’s like, nothing good here, she thought, throwing a silk sheath dress to the floor. Suddenly, she had an idea. 

She walked over to the fitting rooms and flashed a pearly-white smile at the man in charge of it. 

“Hi there! I’m Y/N. I don’t suppose you have any new party dresses in stock?”

Y/N looked the man up and down. He was kind of hot but looked a little too young for her. Risking another glance, Y/N thought that there was something familiar about the man. 

He was tall, dark, and handsome. His black hair contrasted with his pale skin and scarlet eyes gazed at her from underneath long eyelashes. Wait a second, Y/N thought, red eyes? That freak from earlier had red eyes too!

Y/N had an idea. “Hey,” she called, “do you know anyone with red eyes?”

The man looked at her and raised a single eyebrow imperiously before looking her up and down. He scoffed, seemingly unimpressed with what he found. He beckoned for her to follow him with a wave of his elegant hand.

He led her to the back of the store, which was dimly lit but like, in a romantic kind of way. Pulling down a box from the shelf, the man gestured for Y/N to move back. He set the box down on the floor and opened it, shaking out the most beautiful dress that Y/N had ever seen. It was love at first sight.

She tugged the dress out of the man’s hands and dashed back to the dressing room, slamming the door shut behind her. Inside the dressing room, Y/N zipped up the dress and smoothed it out over her curves.

She was gorgeous. 

The dress was, of course, blush pink and made of delicate, skin tight silk with holographic glitter in an ombre pattern from the bottom of the skirt. It was sleeveless and low cut, daringly exposing some cleavage, while the mid-thigh skirt had a large slit, almost up to her waist.

I have to buy this dress, Y/N thought as she examined herself in front of the floor length mirror while running her hands down her waist.  She quickly stripped the dress off of her and ran to the counter to check it out with her daddy’s credit card. 

Finally content, she grabbed the bag and walked back to her car, not missing to glance at the strange red eyed man.

OH MY GOD, Y/N thought. THAT’S THE NISHIMARU KID OR WHATEVER WHO SKIPPED A GRADE BUT IS NEVER AT SCHOOL! Wow…he got kinda…………fine–

Dismissing her thoughts, Y/N walked back to her bubblegum pink car and drove back home. A chill ran down her spine as she recounted the events that happened earlier in the day. The face of the strange boy underneath her car flashed in her mind as she quickly tried to push it aside and focus on the party.

Y/N reached home, quickly throwing on the dress, redoing her hair and makeup and tripping over her feet as she stumbled into her Barbie pink stilettos.

Y/N grabbed her hot pink makeup bag as she fumbled through it to find her neon pink lip gloss and quickly slapped it on. Checking over her face one more time in the mirror, Y/N gave herself a satisfied glance as she swiped on her glittery pink eyeshadow.

As she closed the door to her house, she felt her phone vibrating in her hand.

“HEY BESTIE, ARE U COMING OR WHAT?!” Yuna yelled through the phone.

“STFU Yuna, I'm on my way” Y/N giggled as she flipped her hair and twirled it around her finger.

Quickly throwing her phone into her rose pink purse, Y/N walked to her car and drove off to Jackson Wang’s party. 

As she pulled up to Jackson’s house she could hear the dulcet tones of Twice booming through the house as What is Love was blaring through the speakers. 

Y/N made her way inside, slipping her body through the sweaty crowd and sashaying to Yuna, who was smiling and waving at her enthusiastically.

“HEY BITCH U MADE IT I THOUGHT U WERE DEAD” Yuna shouted over the music.

Y/N simply smiled and shrugged as she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter and sexily downed the whole thing and shoved the entire bottle into her mouth, ignoring the burning sensation radiating in her throat. A few drops of the alcohol dripped down the side of her mouth, but without a care, she wiped it with the sleeve of her expensive Chanel dress. 

All of a sudden, her breath hitched as her own orbs met a familiar pair of eyes. Eyes blood red and promising danger, the man who she ran over glared at her from across the room.

Without breaking eye contact, he began to stalk his way over, pushing his way through the crowd. As he drew near, Y/N felt a cold fear sink to the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes flitted through the room, frantically scanning for a way out. No luck, she was trapped. Desperately, Y/N tried to shove through the crowd.

An ice-cold hand shot out from behind and grasped her wrist. Y/N’s vision began to blur and she regretted drinking all of that vodka. She felt something sharp on her neck and before she blacked out, she faintly heard Yuna’s voice.

“Sunghoonie-oppa! Do you like my present for you? I promise she’ll be very tasty,” Yuna chirped.

Through the fog swirling through her head, Y/N could only wonder what Yuna was saying to the man as her eyes began to close. 

Y/N’s world went black, leaving only a faint feeling of betrayal.

Author’s notes:

What a plot twist🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢

previous <- masterlist -> next

[tteokdoroki]

MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS. | S.GOJO + R.SUKUNA.

ʚ♡ɞ SYNOPSIS: babysitting ryomen sukuna’s son, yuuji, has its perks— money comes easy and he lets you do whatever the hell you want...including fucking your boyfriend on duty. that’s only, of course, if you let him join in.

ʚ♡ɞ PAIRING: satoru gojo, ryomen sukuna x fem!reader.

ʚ♡ɞ WC: 3.2K.

ʚ♡ɞ RATED:   mature, 18+, mdni.

ʚ♡ɞ GENRE: college!au, babysitter!au, smut.

ʚ♡ɞ CW: please read ! heavy smut, ( characters aged to twenties ), age gap, sukuna is in his fourties, reader and gojo are twenty-one,  dom!sukuna, dom!gojo, heavy!degredation, daddy!kink, slight!cucking,  dub-con, threesomes, oral sex ( female recieving ), impact play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, double penetration ( kinda ), unprotected sex, creampie.

ʚ♡ɞ A/N: happy friday my lovelies!! i’m back with another wonderful commission from @pan-cakez who has allowed me to post!! this is my first time writing a full fic for JJK and it was super fun, so i hope you all enjoy!!

ʚ♡ɞ masterlist | requests | kofi

babysitting yuuji itadori was easy money.

he was a good kid, well behaved and full of energy—it had taken you years to nail a solid bedtime routine for him, although with him starting highschool...you had little need for silly cartoons and a warm glass of turmeric milk before bed. so babysitting him was easy money especially for a college student— all you had to do was keep him fed and make sure he’d done his homework.

the kid was practically old enough to take care of himself but you already knew why his father, ryomen sukuna, had kept you around for this long. 

sukuna was a dilf by all possible standards, a silver fox with a charming personality and cheeky quips that would have filled your tummy with butterflies if you weren’t already dating someone. you knew that whenever yuuji was dropped off at school, all parents stood a little straighter and smiled a little brighter to get sukuna’s attention.

not only was he built to the level of gods, bulking out any t-shirts he wore with a jawline that could cut gems rarer than diamonds— ryomen sukuna was the best boss you could ever ask for. he paid well, more than a sitter should probably earn, left money for food and sometimes booze if yuuji had an early bedtime. sukuna let you have whoever you wanted over, never a need to ask permission.

he worked late nights at his tattoo shop, black ink spiralled across his arms and his chest in all sorts of shapes, some even peeking out from between stray strands of strawberry pink hair. the times you interacted with him were pleasant, even when he looked down your top and stared at the curve of your tits mid-conversation.

not that you minded, sukuna was hot, you were hot and it meant that fresh hot cash was flowing into your bank account every week. 

you both were taking advantage of one another, you with the ridiculous money you made and sakuna with the stacks of mental porn he had from the sweet little college girl who babysat his kid.

it was a two way street. 

so you tried not to feel guilty for using this man, especially when you were filthy rich and getting fucked on his living room couch. 

“y’sure—fuck baby— you’re so fucking tight, ‘m not fuckin’ you ‘nough, am i?” your boyfriend, satoru gojo asks in a pant, as he pushes his dick, swollen and red through your honeyed folds and prods at your welcoming entrance. “y’so busy with this stupid kid these days—shit,” you straddle his lap, your arousal stained thighs pulled apart due to him spreading on the couch. you’re barely dressed—cotton panties pushed to the side and your shirt pulled up just enough so that your breasts spill against gojo’s chest. he’s hardly in a neater state than you, sweats and boxers hanging low and tucked under the base of his cock— his shirt thrown into the depths of the room, nowhere to be found. “y’sure we should be doing this?” 

satoru’s breath is warm, almost wet against your bare skin as his head drops to your shoulder to hide the rose blooms on his cheeks, silver hair ticking your chin. your hands, which had not been occupied before, walk their way up the plains of his milky and unblemished skin— aside from a beauty mark here or there. you pinch his flesh until it’s red, sighing in content when his hips jerk and nudge his cockhead into your sensitive walls, a strained whimper laying on the sheen of his lips.

he had always been a pain slut. 

smiling to yourself, your hands wander upwards, lazy circles among other shapes drawn onto the back of gojo’s neck, experimentally squeezing your cunt, running like a tap, down on your boyfriend. your hands resume their dance along to the white hairs that curl against the cusp of his neck, tugging on them. “sukuna won’t be back for hours, yuuji, so cute yet so dumb is sound asleep and you and i,” your breathless chuckle ends in a sweet moan when gojo bottoms out inside of you— his hips flush against yours and pelvis pushed  against your sticky clit. “are alone.” your pussy’s grip on him locks like a vice, lubing gojo up with what drips from your stretched hole. 

“oh yeah, you liked that, didn’t you baby? naughty, naughty, bitch,” satoru teases in a whisper, his sapphire eyes darting up to the side of your face, licking up sweat along your jawline as your body flashes with heat. his hips move slowly beneath yours, building up a rhythm planned meticulously to make you ache just for him, your cunt wet and spasming down on him again. “what about the old man? what if we get caught?” 

you’re light headed already, barely having worked for your pleasure as gojo’s girth pushes against the resistance of your drooling slit, eventually accommodating for his length like it always does—you manage to nod, lips parted in a shaky mewl. “love it toru, you know that, keep goin’,” you breathe, feeling like a rabbid college freshman as he picks up the pace, fucking into you until slow claps of skin on skin echoe throughout the dark living room. “you feel so good like that... if we get caught, let the old man watch he’s a dirty bastard ‘n he’d fucking like it— fuck satoru!” 

your boyfriend kneads your meaty ass, digging into the flesh as he drags you back and forth in his lap, the sheer length of his cock pressing against your cervix—pulsing needily against your walls. “moan my name, a little louder baby, you know i like to hear it,” a grin spreads against gojo’s pink lips, watching your face scrunch up and your head shake, your body collapsing like a temple under your arousal. “talk so dirty for someone with a mouth so pretty, bet the old man would love to stuff it,” 

satoru’s hands drop to your hips, holding you high as his own buck up to fill you with everything he’s got, giving you no room to breathe— you’re a rag doll in his lap, letting him fuck you until your pussy’s raw and all you can feel is gojo’s heavy balls against your bottom. 

“too bad, ain’t it baby? i don’t like to share,” 

responding is the last thing on your mind, especially when gojo pistons himself inside you like this— you can only take what he gives you, let his presence overwhelm you and drag you down into a dark abyss swirling with heated love.

lips drag across your collar bones, berry shades left in the wake of gojo’s poison kiss— love marks and proof in court that you are his and he is yours. you hug his head, burying your own soft lips in silver hair— closer isn’t close enough even with him, even with your bodies pressed against one another, your hips grinding in a passionate dance until your lower back hurts and you can feel the core of your boyfriend’s tummy moving with your own.

“satoru, toru, toru!” you cry, teeth clenched as he teases your bruised cervix, balls against your ass and sexes connected by milky strings of your arousal. 

he grips your cheeks between large hands, squishing them together until your eyes water and you’re gasping for air. “shut up, shuddap, shuddap—shit,” satoru groans, maybe even whimpers when you clamp down on his cock from harsh words. “you’re loud, nasty girl, you gotta be quiet…be quiet f’me okay? do you wanna get in trouble or do you wanna cum?” 

“cum,” you drawl, raunchy and breathless, letting your boyfriend take control of how you bounce on top of him— breasts brushing against his bare chest, mouth drooling as much as your abused slit and not a thought in your pretty little head. “wanna cum, toru!” 

gojo grins, arm snaking around your waist to smack your cunt from behind. “gonna make you cum, ruin the old man’s couch with your naughty lil pussy, yeah?” his skin is licked with perspiration, the will to pound you and push you over the edge driving the very force of his body as he fucks you.

you’re almost there, tasting the wisps of your impending orgasm like euphoria on your tongue. 

that is, until, keys jingle and the front door opens.

“you’re going to do what, with my couch?” sukuna speaks first, making yourself and gojo freeze on the couch itself. the father of one fills the room with an unimpressed aura, exuded from his disheveled form.

your boyfriend’s quick to move, throwing you off of his lap onto the couch and shielding your half naked body from the eager eyes of yuuji’s father as you try to calm your racing heartbeat. “the fuck old man? haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” he curses, pulling you close to him.

“satoru, wait—” 

“knocking in my own home? you’re a funny one, brat.” sukuna laughs, kicking the door shut behind him as he shrugs off his outwear— making himself comfortable at home. “haven’t you ever heard of respect?” 

your boyfriend’s body shakes annoyedly, yours still trembling with your ruined orgasm. you’re humiliated that you were even caught like this, fumbling around for anything to bring back your dignity. “s-sukuna! what are you doing back so soon?” you cringe at the high pitch your voice takes, heavy with embarrassment. 

“pizza.” the single father says bluntly, putting away his belongings, gaze locked onto your barely dressed frame. sukuna’s eyes never leave you, even as he sits on his other couch — instantly man spreading across it. you should feel gross for the way he looks at you, like you’re a piece of meat waiting to be devoured...but your tummy rumbles with desire instead. “thought we could order in, since you stayed so late, but i realise now, you had other plans…” 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper quickly, blood rushing through your ears. “we were just leaving,”

sukuna clicks his tongue as you gesture to your boyfriend to hurry up, making a noise in mock disappointment. “no, stay. after all, you do need to make it up to me.” he keeps his voice level, hiding his pleasure when you freeze.

“w-what?”

“put on a little show with your brat boyfriend here, yanno, for ruining my couch…”  your boss trails off, letting his lewd words echo throughout the quiet living room while you stop mid-search for your belongings. “or, you could let me take a crack at making you feel good,” everything sukuna says has you hot at the collar, thighs pressing together while your cunt oozes— it shoots straight to your core, making desire pool in your lower belly. you shouldn’t want this, feel turned on by what yuuji’s dad says to you— but after having your orgasm torn away from you before, you can’t help it.

you’re brought back to reality when gojo scoffs from somewhere beside you—warm hand encasing your shoulder. “old man, ‘m warning you,” the silver haired man growls, bright diamond eyes fading into dark.

sukuna ignores the warning from your boyfriend, eyes falling back on you, testing you. “i know you want me, little girl,” he goads you, calling out for you like a siren in murky waters. “i see the way you look at me, how you pretend not to notice when i touch you a little lower than i should...how you ignore me when i look up your skirts,” he groans, adjusting himself on the couch and you watch ryomen’s cock twitch from under his pants. “you want me, this dirty—nasty— old man, don’t you?” 

you feel hot underneath your collar, whimpering helplessly as your neediness to orgasm increases— you should feel shameful, especially when gojo’s right beside you. 

but you can't, not when everything sukuna had said was true.

satoru snarls possessively, shielding you as if to cover you from the eyes of the devil. “i’m taking you home,” 

“so fast, brat?” comes sukuna’s malicious chuckle as he spreads himself further, palming his hard on to the delight of your watering mouth. “are you mad because your little girlfriend acts like a whore or because you’re afraid i could fuck her better?” 

that flips the switch.

satoru chuckles darkly— sending another wave of heat down to your fluttering core. “y’know what, baby? let’s give the old man a little treat. only god knows the next time he’ll get laid,” your boyfriend decides, amusement sticking out at the end of his words. “i trust you, go on,” he whispers to you, sending you a warm look that turns your insides to mush.

“excellent,” sukuna hums, grin returning before he pats his lap. “come now pet, come sit on my cock. crawl to me.” 

your move before you can stop yourself, gravitated and crawling towards sukuna— until he manhandles you into his lap, tugging down his pants. he positions you like gojo once had, only this time, your back hits ryomen’s firm chest— giving him full access to your body. hands laced with jet black ink, then settle firmly on your hips, tearing off your panties so sukuna can grind your bare cunt against his weighty girth.

you can feel every vein press along the length of your slit, making you jolt in his grip as his hands ascend on your breasts and curves alike—pinching them raw. “you’re good at this pet, filthy even,” the father of one breathes into your ear hotly, pushing his tip through your folds and letting it bump your aching clit.

“mnno, toru—” you gasp at the feeling but can’t help but call for your boyfriend, knots twisting in your stomach. “wan’ toru too…”

“that’s it, dirty girl...call out to him while your daddy fills you up,” sukuna turns to gojo next, finally pushing into your sopping pussy and filling you up to the brim, he tweaks your nipples—tugging at the hard buds to make you wiggle your hips over his. “look at that, ain’t she a perfect fit, brat?”

“you’re sick old man,” gojo can’t help but laugh, watching you—his girl— struggle to sink down on a dick that isn’t his. sukuna is thicker where gojo is longer, fat and ballsy as he stretches out your gummy walls and hooks against your ribbed walls. you can’t help your high pitched whine as your boss starts to fuck up into you, his muscled arms hooking around your thighs to keep you spread and on display. 

god, it hurts—it hurts so good to be used like this, squirming above sukuna’s cock like a desperate little thing, fucking him back until your pussy’s foaming at his base. when you tear up, satoru finally makes his way over, cooing over the obscene slaps of sukuna’s balls against your swollen clit. “baby, ease up, you can’t take him all the way if you’re tight like that,”

your cunt creams, an embarrassing amount, at this— making the two men manipulating your body, groan deeply in unison. with a hazy head, blurry vision and limp body,  you watch as gojo sinks to his knees before your wet cunt. “toru…”

“trust me baby, daddy won’t let anything happen to you,” he shushes you, sapphire eyes locked on yours, lips now on your clit and sloppily kissing the puffy bundle of nerves. electricity jolts through your veins, tingles deep inside your sex—the feeling only amplified by the slow strokes, weight behind them, sukuna gives to your abused cunt. between gojo’s tongue flicking at your leaky pussy and the heavy cock that bruises your cervix, you become overwhelmed, spasming and drenching him in your juices until even he is struggling to breathe.

“stop that, brat—fuck off,” sukuna chokes on a moan, rolling his hips up and into yours and coaxes more simpers from you. “your filthy slut’ll cum soon if you keep that up,”

gojo breathes heavy into your swollen lower lips, entertained by the way you drip down sukuna’s balls so much that your juices run down to his asshole—you milk him so much just from having your princess pussy played with, riling gojo up as he humps the floor. “the thing about my girl, old man, is that she plays favourites,” he spits onto your hole, watching your hips jump up and squeeze sukuna hard. “daddy’s her favourite, i’m her god. i’ll make her cum before you can even spell your name,”

you twitch and sukuna speeds up, forcing his shaft deeper and deeper until you’re dumb and drooling. “wanna bet?” he asks.

“don’t need to, got her right on the edge.” 

it’s an all out war from there, satoru slipping his pink tongue against your ravaged, puffy pussy as ryomen pumps himself in and out of you— both at unruly paces. you feel hot all over, sandwiched between baritone moans and syrupy precum that smears your insides, accompanied by thick trails of saliva lost within arousal that adds shine to your folds.

shakily, your fingers curl in strawberry and silver locks of hair— yanking them tight when sukuna’s oozing tip smashes against your g-spot and satoru sucks on your clit just right. “s’too much! hurts, s’too much!” you drawl, eyes crossed, spit dripping from your mouth.

you look like a dirty slut, you feel like one too.  

“does she ever shut up? got a mouth on her that runs like a whore,” ryomen grunts through gritted teeth, focused on using his dick to abuse the pleasure button deep within your cunt— determined to make you cum first. “shut the fuck up, keep your hands to yourself and take it,” 

he growls the last part, chest burning against your back with rage as he scoops up your wandering hands and squeezes your wrists together.

“why? afraid her dirty mouth’ll make you cum before she does?” gojo teases, words muffled as he tongues where yours and sukuna’s body’s meet— tasting the mess that gathers there. “leaking so much princess, so fucking messy,” 

truth is, you can’t tell, succumbing to both men while gojo smacks at your sex— toying with your clit and sliding his fingers into you alongside ryomen’s cock— massaging your walls where the other bruises them. you’re so dizzy, between their words ‘look at this mess, you’re so nasty,’ and ‘what a dirty bitch you are,’— you’re not sure if you can last anymore.

“stop, it hurts— toru! kuna! it hurts,” you blubber, overstimulated. you don’t want them to stop, but the pain of holding back your orgasm makes you feel so on edge. “stop!” 

“yeah? then you know what to do. cum angel, cum f’me,” satoru cackles, smacking your sex repeatedly as you flinch. sukuna follows his lead, slapping your breasts as they bounce, mumbling nonsense about you cumming for him instead.

then you’re hurtling over the edge, squirting as you let go and gush over fingers and dick alike. your body is wracked with trembles— forcing sukuna to breed you with his hot seed, spewing out of your hole as you gush and gush, blood rushing through your ears. the very sight makes gojo cum too, staining his pants while white pours from your cunt along with your slick.

“fuck—!” sukuna chokes out. “fuck that was good,” 

“yeah it was,” satoru laughs breathily, kissing your shaking thighs. “but who made her cum?” 

both men look down to you, passed out and oozing cum— both of their cocks twitching to life again. “i’m not too sure, let’s call it a draw.” sukuna grins evilly.

“round two then, old man?” 

“round two, brat.”

[geminimoonbeamx]

You can blow what’s left of my right mind(I don’t mind)

A/N: As usual, I'm two days late. But here she is. Writing this his reignited my love for Pedro Pascal in ways that are hard to describe. Please read @allaboardthereadingrailroad sister story and thank her for always dealing with my fuckery. Also GBB: Great British Bake-off. duh lol

Warning: Smut, Oral(femal receiving), Drug use. The very vague, brief mention of homie hopping. Minor mentions of infidelity at the end.

Pairings: Frankie “Catfish” Morales X Plus Sized Reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you fully accept the prospect of being alone forever. One spontaneous barbeque and a joint rolled by the handsomest man you’ve ever met later and you're reevaluating that notion.

You deserve your fate, re-downloading Bumble had been an offense against your carefully routine therapy schedule. 

The date had been trash, but you could’ve guessed that. No need for a crystal ball or the stack of tarot cards that had become a staple party trick of yours in college. Another limp dick banker, six figures and no people skills. Gag. 

You ponder your shitty decision making skills, hand on your hip, as you stare down the long aisle. Fluorescent and distorted, wine or something hard? What pairs well with leftover tiramisu. You reach for your phone as it dings in your bag:

Huh.

Tequila it is. 

-------

Realtor Tom, as he’d been dubbed months ago, had finally closed on the property next door. Condo, beach front, wrap around porch. You have no idea how it could’ve taken it him so long to close on it but as you arrive, you congratulate him all the same- 

Exchanging the crystalline bottle for a heavy plate, steaming, fresh off the fire. 

It’s just something small and intimate, his celebration. 

The porch lights are dim, music hums and the grill is worked by seasoned hands as the moon shines brightly down on the crashing waves in the distance. .

It’s you and Claire and a handful of Tom’s oldest friends, military men. Brothers. All that macho we almost died together and now live in each others back pockets bullshit that you think is just a skewed version of your grandmothers book club. 

The stories they tell almost seem lifted straight off a page, carefully crafted. Pieces clearly cut away for you and Claire’s benefit. The bloody kind, you figure. A shame really, you like your gossip like you like your steak- medium rare. Raw and almost unpalatable. 

Men suck, as a whole. But former military men with jawlines that could cut diamonds? Yeah, you could stomach that. Work with it even.

The golden boy with the right dash of middle america and bright blue eyes, Will- right? He’s your usual type. 

Unfortunately not all that in interested in you though as far as you can tell. 

Pope’s darkly handsome with black hole vortex like charm, a gaping maw with salt and pepper hair. Your daddy issues are screaming-

Claire weaves and bobs through conversation with skill- honed in on a target that you don't think Benny, the little brother who likes to box, has caught on to yet. With his eager eyes and booming laughter he obviously still thinks he’s in the game. 

Her daddy issues are worse than yours.. 

“You wanna hit this?” 

It comes from beside you. Frankie’s hand is outstretched, a freshly rolled joint in between his long fingers.

“Greens? For little ol’ me? Thanks, you’re a real gentleman” You tease, grinning as you take it. It’s clean work, pretty as shit and pulls perfect. You hold his gaze, just for a moment as you suck on the end. 

You hadn't been sure about him, hours ago. Tall, lanky, donned in Hawaiian tropic and a baseball cap.

Catfish, Frankie, is a pilot. Contracted through some government agency since he retired from the military. You think he’d be a great commercial pilot, cute little helicopter flights for rich fucks over the bay, turtle island. His easy humor would win ‘em all over. You’d be his first client, he could take you out anytime. 

“Yeah, you want me to take you flying?” He grins, tips his beer. Entertaining the idea. 

“What girl wouldn't?” You counter “I mean, heights aren't really my thing but if the pilot was good enough, sure. I’d be game” 

He shakes his head, playing it cool. Yeah, whatever you want, just tell him when.

Is there certain terminology for flight head or would that just fall under the blanket statement of joining the mile high club?-

You reach over to hand the joint to Claire, the dim fairy lighting hitting her dark eyes just right. A smug, knowing gleam aimed right at you. 

The night bleeds away and the shots of tequila start to lose their sting. 

Everything is warm, the sticky Floridian heat doesn't dwindle, not at all phased by the mid October time stamp. You glow, alcohol fueled, from the inside out. You know these guys better now, these near strangers feel inner circle close, 

But maybe, it's just because you’re sitting in a circle? 

Or maybe it's because that expensive bottle you’d brought, Tom’s gift, is long gone. The sketchy little decanter Santiago brought- the one with a distended scorpion that came straight from the Motherland is getting there too. 

Clear liquor is thicker than blood, or whatever that saying is. 

Will bows out first which, surprise surprise. Who has to work on a Sunday? Tom soon after, toting a stumbling old country song singing Benny- 

“Last time I let you crash at one of my properties, I was left scrubbing who know’s what the fuck off the the three thousand dollar couch. Get your ass up” 

And then there were four. 

Pope insists that it’s in poor taste not to finish this particular bottle, bad luck. 

You know what else is bad luck- hangovers. You’re out, its been fun and real and real fun. 

You’re not expecting Claire to leave with you, because you know- the daddy issues. And the liquor tolerance of steel. 

You remind her to lock the door when she gets home, she’s on Buttercup duty in the morning too, still drunk or not. 

“I think i'm going to head out, too, man” Frankie announces, standing just after you and your stomach erupts into butterflies. “I’m too old for this shit” 

They, Frankie and Pope, exchange words in spanish. Embracing. Laughing. 

You and Claire exchange words, silently. Telepathically. All eyes and vibes. 

The verdict is clear;

Use protection. 

----------

You’ll walk him to his car you offer and he chuckles, will do you one better and walk you to your door. All of fifteen feet away. 

The night can end here and it still would have been good, beautiful even. Far removed from the horrible date, but you? 

Make bad decisions. Tequila addled or not.

 You reach for his hand, twining your fingers in between his and tugging. Staring up at him with want, bare and vulnerable, written all over your face. 

“Come home with me?” 

Frankie looks like he might say no. Like there's something on the tip of his tongue that you have no desire to unearth, something that should dictate a hard decline. Like he should utter the words that will end the night-

But he doesn't want to. You can tell. 

You tug him all the way up the the porch stairs.

Fumbling not to let go as you fiddle with the key, the moment the door swings open its like a switch has been flipped. He’s turned on. A squeal breaks free as as he crowds you in all body and warmth and close, close, close head spinningly fast. 

He kicks the door shut with the heel of his heavy boot. 

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

You don't do one night stands. 

Not because of morality or maturity or lack- but because they’re unpredictable. The few you;d had had fallen on the spectrum of either holy fuck wow, or never, ever, again, 

Frankie sits in his own bracket-

A peel of laughter breaks out of you as he runs his bearded face across your neck, into the sensitive skin behind your ear.

He’s fun, playful. It doesn't feel like a performance, him touching you. He digs his fingers in to feel. He runs his tongue across what he wants to taste- he’s not against lighting up another spliff.

 The plumes of smoke pass between your mouths in hot kisses and coughed fits of giggles. 

“That did not happen” You accuse, sprawled out on the couch. Your hair fanned across a throw pillow, silky slip of a top long gone as Frankie sits between your bare spread thighs. 

“It did- and that shit’s prosecutable in most third world countries” He informs lightly in all seriousness, the two very different tones existing harmonious as he husks it in your ear.

 Playful, all fun, until he's kissing down your chest. Wet and scorching, 

It feels good, the drag of prickly facial hair over all that soft supple skin. Hypersensitive, you arch into his mouth when his teeth catch on your nipple, just on the right side of pain. He’ll stop, the soothing lave of his tongue makes that clear.

 You knot your fingers in his thick black hair and push him deeper into your chest. 

He’s attentive, so much so that it’s almost odd. He just met you not even six hours ago and he’s treating you so nice- it must be his kink or something. Oral fixations. He doesn't want to pull away, his mouth slams back to yours after every minor disconnection. 

He has to yank his shirt over his head? Kiss- has to shimmy his jeans down his long legs? He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth the moment they’re off. You smile into each one. 

“You wanna fuck me, Frankie?” You whisper into his mouth because he’s so hard and hes rocking into you, nudging against lace“You can have it, what ever you want” 

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice, or so you learn. “Whatever he wants”, you’d offered. Thought he’d slip your panties to the side, pound into you. Condom first of ofcource, youre not that fuck dumb yet- but there he goes with that mouth again. Down, past your sternum and belly button and the round curve of your stomach and oh, there goes your panties- 

Fuck. 

He shoulders his way right where he wants to be, face first between your legs, “Right here baby, keep ‘em right here' ' because hes slim but far from weak and you’re going to wrap your thighs around his ears whether you want to or not.This is the good stuff, the kind of stuff that blocks out all the ugly shit he’s seen and the bad things he’s done. It’s white noise, peace and he goes down you like he’s dying for it. 

Fucks his tongue into you in a way that makes you whine. All men(boys not included) like eating pussy, in theory. Only a select few of them love it, 

Frankie Morales loves that shit. 

Your eyes roll as his nose nudges your clit and what’s that quote about big noses? Its messy, overly wet and yeah, sloppy but who cares. The squelch and slurps make you shiver because what the hell? You were not expecting this. You nearly lurch right off the couch when his fingers join in because wow yeah you knew g spot orgasms were a thing but this is something else completely. 

He doesn't stop until it hurts. Until your muscles burn and his jaw is threatening to lock. Until you're begging him to let you ride him, using the back of the couch to bounce in his lap in a way that's truly impressive. Your pilates instructor would be so proud of your muscle elasticity. 

The two of you are barely human Jell-o after. When you offer your bed for the night, he doesnt have the energy to decline. 

----------

The sun is bright in the sky by the time Frankie gets his shit together, clothes pulled on and out of your wildly comfortable bed. He tells you he’s leaving, kisses your cheek- even when you groan and push him away, burrowing deeper into your comforter. He debates on waking you up, on chicken scratching a note with his information-

No numbers will be exchanged, no promises of next time.

It’s for the best, less messy. He tries to comfort himself with this facts as he trudges down the stairs.

He’s head pounds with the beat of his heart and he could throttle Pope for pressing those last few shots. Too old, not young enough to deal with mornings after anymore- 

“Good morning” 

Claire stands in the middle of the naturally lit kitchen, hair tied up neatly, donned in activewear. Her tawny complexion clear and unblemished. Not a dark circle in sight. 

A panting squirming mass bum rushes him and winds around his feet . Oh, Frankie remembers you putting a dog in their room last night. 

“Good morning, I was just going to head out-” 

“Ill walk you out- we were about to go for a run anyway. Buttercup, leash” Claire’s tone is cheerful, even. There’s no waver, nothing to prepare him for what comes next.

The moment the front door opens, they spill out onto the pristine lawn, and he’s heading for his truck-

“Oh and Frankie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Say hi to your wife for us” 

Read @allaboardthereadingrailroad sister story to find out what happened with Claire, Pope and that bottle: One Night Stand

[glorified-red]

Oooo!!! I never thought of it like that!!! Honestly I could see it. His jawline could cut diamonds it's so defined. That's probably what makes Batman so intimidating, his shoulders are broad and square, his jawline being the only part of him you can see and it's that defined? Terrifying.

Clark I always picture to be such a Dad™ and I can never unsee it. I like seeing Clark as muscular as FUCK. Like he's 80% pure muscle mass it's insane. But he squishes yk? His muscles are just Built Different. They look bigger but they aren't defined, they soften to protect his body.

Jason I always like to picture with a tum. He's such a soft guy with a heart of gold, I can't imagine him having a defined body type because it just doesn't suit him. Is he intimidating?? Hell yea, but not because of how he looks, it's his reputation. I love his big hugs!!! I feel like he takes after Clark in the Big Squishy Muscle thing.

Dick is always gonna be more lean and defined for me. Hes an acrobat, if you see male acrobats they're always super toned and their muscles are hella defined like all the time, but that's because they have a naturally leaner build so when they do gain muscle, it's noticeable. They have to be aerodynamic so their waist and hips are small but their thighs and arms are big enough to carry their weight and catch themselves.

Tim will always have a lean build. He's scrawny and thin, especially growing up and during the early days. Any muscle he has was purely from him working his ass off to grow it. Maintaining that muscle is always gonna be harder for him than any of the other boys. That's why he's such a health nut in canon, he can't afford to slack off health wise. I can imagine he used to compare himself A LOT to his older brothers because he was so much smaller than them which isn't great in the field, you WANT to be bigger (not just muscle but fat too, and both are hard for Tim). Eventually tho, he learned his own fighting style that was suited for his build. (Less impact, more stealth and defense, relying on his intellect to make the fight end swiftly because he knows he won't last in prolonged close combat.)

I consistently see Bruce and Clark being portrayed as fucking ripped, like eight packs, massive muscles all the time, etc etc. And while they both would have a large percentage of muscle mass because of what they do, muscles don't always look "defined" when someone's relaxed or after a long day.

Most often, muscles can be jiggly and soft, even squishy if they aren't flexed. Doesn't mean they aren't strong or not there, they just aren't being used at the moment.

So yes, their thighs are massive, but when lounging around?? Squishy. Squatting?? Hard as a fucking ROCK.

Long story short, I wanna see more of Clark and Bruce being portrayed with a healthy level of body fat.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRGUy4tH/

[simplyahoe]

Hello! Can i request Kyojuro x Dom male reader with face-fucking and bondage (and edging if you feel like including it). Anyway, i love your work 😊

Tw: face fucking, bondage, edging, some aftercare

This took longer than I thought and certainly more words than I thought. Enjoy your fanfiction length madness

If this isn’t to your taste, send another request! I’m happy to write more

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The short walk to your house pained, but relieved you. Slow sluggish movements accompanied by the stress leaving your body, making your mind drift off. After being neck deep in work for three weeks, you could finally relax.

“I’m home”

Time seemed to slow as you entered your home. Taking off your shoes seemed to take more effort than normal. The rustling of clothes fills the deafening silence. The house is too silent.

Your boyfriend would normally be here to greet you loudly.

“Kyojuro?”

You called his name loudly into the quiet.

A muffled yelp and quiet thump was the only response. The sounds originated from your shared room, the door badly cracked open.

That explains the silence. He couldn’t hear you. You did soundproof the room after all.

Leaving your stuff in the hall, you approached the open door. Whispered curses from a familiar voice was all you heard, even when you opened the door fully.

On the bed, your beloved Rengoku Kyojuro struggled with some rope. More like struggling with some rope, while half tied up and mostly naked, which is a sight to behold.

Closing the door behind you, you took in the sight

Red and yellow rope criss-crossed his body, the Hishi Karada’s patterns of diamonds pulled down his torso and past the growing bulge of his crotch.

He at least put on the tie on lace underwear you got him for a joke(kind of). Cutting off underwear gets expensive after some time.

Was he expecting you to walk in on him like this? Or was he expecting you to walk in when he is fully tied up? Because that underwear gives easy access and removal even when fully tied up.

Sitting on his ass with his legs bent and tied with the futomomo pattern. He was currently attempting to free his left arm

“I CAN EXPLAIN!”

He waved his free hand like it would help convince you. His cheeks became a fiery red and his eyes wide.

“Kyojuro? Are you playing with yourself?”

“No! I- well, I-“

“‘I’ what?”

You kneeled in front of him, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you. His throat bobbed as he swallows saliva, grasping at his fleeing courage

“I knew you were stressed. And I knew you would be free for the next few days. So I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes moved focus from you and he muttered past a pout “it didn’t go as planned”

“You wanted to surprise me, sunbeam? Look at you baby, you didn’t even tie your arm right” Your hands worked to free his arm

“It’s hard with one arm and it’s embarrassing” he whines, leaning against you

“Let me”

“…. Make it tighter?”

“Of course”

You didn’t even need to fight him to tie his wrists to his hips. You did have to go over the bits of his work that came out a bit loose.

Stepping away, you looked at yours and his combined handiwork. Taking a short amount of time to prepare for what’s ahead(stripping off your clothes, grabbing lube, stuff to use to clean yourselves up, and maybe getting the strapless strap on[I ain’t judging if you are afab]).

Maneuvering him on the bed was easy, he was hard and his mind was already floating in the comfort of the rope’s pressure.

You had him on his knees in front of you, nuzzling into your neck. His hot breath tickled the skin.

Your hands drift down and rub at the rough fabric of the underwear and the rope on his thighs, listening to the quiet whine that slipped from his lips. He started to move his hips, hoping to get more friction.

“Look at you. So hard already? I didn’t even do much to you. Did me walking in turn you on?”

The whine that he let out this time was much louder

You pressed kisses against his jawline, hands pressing and rubbing against the rough fabric. You moved slowly and deliberately, feeling out the smallest of details on his body.

This is the body of the man you love so much, there is so much to admire. Every swell of muscle and raised scar.

Quiet moans and sighs filled the air as you continued to trace and palm at his body. Your mouth trailing down his neck and to his chest, leaving soft bites and light kisses.

Even when he started to grind the damp fabric against your hand, your pace stayed the same. Soft and gentle

There was no point in rushing when you had the whole night ahead.

“Stop it”

A whisper, but you still caught it

Backing up and pulling back completely, your hands returned to your side as his hips chased them. He looked close to finishing there

He bit back a whine as he remembered that he was the one who called for the stop.

Fuck! I was so close! Why did I stop them?

“Kyo?”

“Stop being so gentle!”

Annoyance filled his squirming being. From the half-hearted glare and the pout, he wanted something more rough, more extreme than what he currently is getting.

“Kyo-“

“We’ve been over this, you can’t hurt me. I’ll be fine.”

You gave him a look

“Weren’t you the one crying and complaining about me being too rough last time?”

Last time, he did indeed sob into his pillow as you fucked him into the bed. Crying over how rough you were. Crying about the bruising and the bites. Especially crying about how “he can’t”

Steam poured from his ears as he gave a over exaggerated grin

“I can take it! I’m a Hashira after all! Plus! I can safeword out! So no stopping until you're satisfied or I safeword!”

Right, he always ends up crying over the rough treatment anyways. As long as there is proper aftercare, it will be fine. You are technically the weaker one in the relationship, despite Kyojuro handing over all control to you.

“Right, right. But I still need to get you warmed up-“

“Excuses!”

“Fine, if you want it rough, I’ll give you rough.”

His yelp cut off when you grabbed his head. Forcing him down your length, you purposely hit the back of his throat. Making him to gag.

He pulled mostly off for a breath and a cough before you forced him down again. His muffled cries vibrates down your length

Tears welled up in his eyes and poured down when he blinked.

Kyojuro is very ashamed that he only got harder with this treatment. While he did ask for it, he didn’t expect this. Moans easily getting muffled as you fucked his face.

He barely held his body up as you fucked his face. His arms struggled against the rope as he attempted to tear his wrists free to support his bodyweight.

Slowly, he stopped struggling and started putting more focus on keeping his breathing, which was starting to get difficult with you forcing yourself down his throat. Drool spilled past his lips and dripped down onto his lap.

“Good boy. Look at you, you can take me in fully I bet!”

As you said that, you pressed his head all the way down. His nose pressed against your stomach as a moan slipped out. You held him there for a bit, watching as his eyes started to fill with panic as he starts to struggle breathing.

It amuses you greatly when his noise level raised with each second as his throat constricted against your tip

When you finally let go, he jerked away completely. Coughs racked his body, eyes looking down and away from you.

“Is there something wrong?”

Your teasing concern made him shake his head, his thighs coming together and body turned to the side. His face and ears turning a bright red. His breathing, raspy.

You simply shrugged. One way to find out now.

Grabbing his shoulders, you easily pinned him to the bed. His eyes shined with tears and saliva dripped a bit down his throat, but you can see what he was hiding. The underwear is completely soaked, he had came without being touched.

“Awww, baby look at you” you cooed, fingers dipped past the rope, tracing his muscles “Did you like it that much?”

“No I don’t shuddap”

His words slurring as he shook his head wildly. No matter how much he verbally rejected everything you said, his body reacted positively to your touch. His back arching into your touch.

Untying the underwear, you slid it off his body, watching as his cock sprung up.

“Let’s start the fun, shall we?” You purred into his ear, grinning as he let out a moan in response “I will do whatever I want and you will take it, you are a good boy right?”

He can safeword out whenever he feels that it’s too much

You kissed his sweat covered forehead, completely loving the way he melted into it.

Wrapping your hand around his dick, you start pumping it with vigor. He whined loudly, head thrown back into the sheets shaking his head, hands gripping and pulling at the ropes.

“No……. I don’t want it….. I already came….”

Despite his words, hips bucked wildly into your hand, despite the slight overstimulation.

His second orgasm came over him quickly. With a cry, he completely tensed up, eyes squeezed shut, releasing all over your hand and his stomach. Relaxing only after you let go of him.

Collecting some of his release on your fingers. Satisfied with the amount, you prodded at his entrance. Slipping in easily, you started working him open.

“I don’t want to cum” words spoken in between breaths

You happily listened to his words. If he didn’t want to cum, then he isn’t going to.

Stretching him to satisfaction, the whine he released when you pulled your fingers out was beautiful. You quickly lined yourself up and slid in, taking care to press roughly against his prostate. His warmth welcomed you, tightening and refusing to let you go. He yelped as you thrust harshly into him. Fucking into him with a disregard to his sensitivity.

It hurts, but feels so good

The obscene sounds mixed with the squeaks and moans, bouncing off the walls. You could only thank that you are at YOUR home, not his. You would rather not corrupt his innocent little brother or get yelled at by his father.

“Cum.. cumming…I’m cumming”

Stilling in him, the whines he let out were adorable. Tears started to fall faster from his eyes. Whines spilling easily from his lips. Squirming around you.

You leaned down and pressed kisses down his neck, this time leaving bite marks and bruises as you went. Occasionally moving the rope out the way to leave some more bites.

Once you felt him relax around you, you started to move again. Hitting his prostate with punishing precision, easily working him up again. Once again stopping when he was close.

“Whyyyy? I was so close….. pleaseeeee.”

“You said you didn’t want to cum”

“Pleaseeee! Let me cum! Pleassssseeeeeee!”

You leaned in really close to him, whispering into his ears

“If you insist.”

“Please! Just let me cum!”

He nodded. His begging is incredibly cute. Then again, you did make him cum twice before edging him twice.

It’s surprising that you resisted cumming for this long.

With almost all of your stress relieved, you started to move again, this time aiming to cum with him. Maybe make him cum one more time after. Yeah, that is a good plan.

Fucking into his ass with renewed vigor, you enjoyed the loud sobs and moans. You set your hard and fast pace, ruining his thought process and rendering it useless.

So good….. more….

“You feeling good?”

He nodded, unable to form words other than the sobs

The two of you ended up cumming rather quickly. An animalistic roar ripping from your throat, as Kyojuro nearly screamed. You watched as his eyes crossed.

As his mental consciousness slowly returned, you used this as a break. Lightly grinding into him and pulling soft sounds from him.

“One more.”

“…..What?”

“One more, baby.”

And you started moving AGAIN. This time, he did scream. Yanking hard at the ropes, thrashing in your hold.

“STOP! TOO MUCH! STOP…”

Locking him still into a hug, you held him still. Rutting into him like it was the last time you will ever have with him.

“PLEASE STOP!.. I DON’T WANNA!…. STOP!”

Drawing one last orgasm from him, you chased your own for a bit, but you followed soon after. His eyes rolled back. Tears and drool slid down his face. Strangled noises escaped him as you whispered sweet nothings and praise.

“.. you are a good boy…. So strong….. My Kyojuro…… beautiful boy…. I love you so much. I promise you that”

He simply nodded in agreement. It took a bit before you managed to hear anything from the dazed man.

“…..I’m…..a..good boy…..”

“Yes you are. Now let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Mhn”

Pulling out, you quickly started working on removing the ropes. While the ropes are made of high quality stuff, he still got rope burns from how hard he struggled against them.

You cleaned him with a towel, rubbing gently at his skin. You are going to have to carry him to the bath again, but it should be fine. You can rub in the ointments and creams later. After the bath.

You left everything not needed in the room, carrying your dazed boyfriend to the bath, helping him clean up and settle in. Being extra gentle when washing his face and adding a light massage when washing his hair.

He leaned against the side of your private hot spring, red and yellow eyes staring into you as you washed yourself.

You rinsed off the suds and looked over at him. His owl like eyes bore into you.

“Yes?”

“Did I end up complaining again?”

His voice is soft and quiet, unlike his normal way of speaking. There is a bit of rasp from how loudly he was crying out earlier, but he wasn’t speaking quietly because of that

“A bit, but I was pretty rough on you”

“Mhn”

You slid into the bath with him, arms wrapping around him

“Can we stay like this for a bit?”

“Of course” you pressed a soft kiss on his lips “we can leave when you say so”

“…….Thanks” he leaned against you, wet hair pressing poking your neck and chest

“No, thank you”

Some time passed before you said the next thing

“Next time you are stressed, you do that to me, yeah?”

“Love, no.”

[princessmisery666]

Dangerous Dance

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (she/her - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

W/C: 750

Warnings: smut, jealous Bucky, public sex act, fingering, bratty behavior, allusions to dangerous work.

Notes: I had mob boss Bucky in mind while writing so I guess this is an AU.  

A/N: Hope you like it @fandom-princess-forevermore

Betas: @cockslutpadalecki // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: picture found here Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

Dangerous Dance

It didn’t take long to figure out Bucky had people watching her. His intentions were to protect her, after all his professional life attracted the wrong kind of people. But she’d be damned if she didn’t take advantage of it when she was feeling a certain type of way.

She didn’t care about money or expensive gifts, and she paid little attention to the power he held. All of which she’d been offered. She only craved Bucky’s time and the skills he had. So when his ‘business’ kept him away for too long, she used the watchers to her advantage. 

The dance floor was crowded. Bodies writhing and grinding, hands groping her ass, a sweaty chest pressed against her back, but it was the wrong chest. Still, she swirled her ass into the owner's crotch and had a little fun while she waited.

The air was stifling in the close quarters of the club, but she felt the shift and heard the murmurs of his name when he arrived. She didn’t need to look for him, he was in the same place he always was. So slowly she raised her eyes, a sly smirk curling the corners of her mouth while she continued to sway her hips.

Bucky was in the VIP area, the centre of the booth, a bottle of beer resting on his knee and he was staring at her. The red strobe lights made him look as dangerous as he was, illuminating the fiery desire in his eyes and it was enough to make heat pool in her panties.

He curled his finger, inviting her over. She shook her head, no. She'd pay for the disobedience later but it’d be worth it. It always was.

His gaze demanded her attention but she dared to look away, turning to face her dancing partner instead. She had to admit he was a good looking guy, a jawline that could cut diamonds, light brown hair immaculately tamed to a style she didn’t care to know the name of. She put her hands on his stomach, felt his taut muscles and bit her lip. She locked eyes with him for a moment, teasingly wetting her lips before turning her back to him again. 

Bucky was gone.

Fuck.

Had she finally pushed him too far? Was he done with their game of cat and mouse? She sighed sadly.

She wouldn’t have noticed the person pressed against her being snatched away abruptly had it not jostled her. The hand gripping her hip to steady her replaced the person so fast she probably wouldn’t have realized it was someone new if not for the metal hand that wrapped around her throat. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, doll,” Bucky gritted in her ear, but he moved with her to the rhythm of the music, reigniting the flame within her.

“I’m in no danger as long as you’re around,” she teased, jutting her ass into him further.

“We’ll see about that,” he challenged. The hand on her waist slipped lower, caressing her thigh, lifting her skirt as he danced his fingers around to the front. He cupped her sex, pushing her damp panties into her and he tutted, “You’re already wet, I’ve barely touched you.” 

“That guy was a good dancer,” she snarked. 

His hold tightened, blood rushed to her temples and he forced her to head back to rest against his shoulder. He scraped his teeth along her jaw, growling, “you drive me crazy,” before roughly pulling her panties aside and shoving two fingers into her tight cunt. 

“Shit,” she whined, eyes fluttering closed as he dragged in and out.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, scissoring and curling his fingers, taut grip still in place. “Me to finger fuck you in front of everyone, so every man can see you’re my girl?”

“Nuh-huh,” she denied, rising to the tips of her toes every time he forced his fingers in deeper. “I want every man and woman to know you’re my man.”

“Okay, doll,” he agreed and she heard the smug smile in his tone. He liked her jealousy. His pace increased, another finger breached her entrance and his thumb expertly teased her clit. She writhed and moaned, swirling her hips to match his pace. The base of the music vibrated through them both and her walls clenched, sucking him in deeper.

“It’s time to show them,” Bucky drawled in her ear, “come for me.”

Requests Info

Master Lists: Bucky Barnes // All The Fandoms

[inertflouride]

Do I wanna know?

Preface: Jake and MC break up when things don't work out well between them but MC hides the fact that she still loves Jake and is holding herself out from every guy. Just when she hears about Jake getting involved with a new hacker girl from his circle, she flips her switch.

Warnings: Sexual references, mild cussing, mild violence, 🌶

No references to any detail from the game except the character's name

Also a little soundtrack in the end. Hehe

"You wanna dance?", I ask the guy before me. He's been hitting on me ever since I walked in this pub. The fact that I didn't pay attention from the beginning was not because he was ugly, but because I was holding out myself for someone. Lies, lies, lies.

"Hell yes I wanna dance", he grins at me and takes my hand to the dance floor. It's a latino song so I can't understand much what it says but man the beats, I'll be lying if I say I didn't dance on my own accord. I have my back towards him and dance, his hands wandering up and down on my side curves. Feels good being hot, doesn't it?

I find Jessy looking at me with her eyebrow crooked up, trying to figure out who that is. I give her a wink and slide my hands slowly over my body, making the dummy dancing with me pumped up. He lets out a little laugh.

"What song is this?", I shout at the top of my lungs since the music is blasting in here and I can't hear shit.

"Oh, it's Mi Necesita. Haven't you heard it? It's quite a popular song", he replies back in my ear.

"Ah, cool", I reply back in boredom. This guy is boring as fuck like dude, make some interesting conversation or something? I legit feel my fun vibe getting sucked out of me. Argh.

He's about to say something when the DJ interrupts in. "The following song is a request by", he pauses for a second, "by our friend, Jake for his little girlie MC. Well MC, if I were you, I'd leave any man for this hot a guy, Haha. Everybody, give it up for Jake!!" and plays Disturbia by Rihanna but with reverberations and sped up effects.

I jerk my head towards Jessy who looks back at me with equal surprise. I move forward towards her but suddenly I'm stopped and found the guy I was dancing with holding onto my wrist.

"Huh? What do you want?", I ask him in bewilderment, my brows frowning at him. "I seriously DO NOT have time for you right now" and try to free my wrist but his iron clad says no.

"Come on baby, we just started here", he returns a douchy smirk and pulls me via my wrist towards himself. He traps me with his arms around me so I try to push him away with my hands on his chest.

"Get off of me, ew", I try to get him off of me. I try to find Jessy behind him, but she's no where. WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO JESSY?

"You won't ew when I fill you in", he quips back and moves closer to me. No no no, I need to get him off of me.

"Jake-", I speak in my little voice and before I could even finish his name, someone comes behind me and pulls me towards me. "Wha-"

"You wouldn't want to touch her if you wish to stay alive", he declares flatly. I look towards this person and find a guy in a black mask and ruffled hair looking towards me. If this isn't Jake then I don't know who is. He grew some serious muscles but not in a buff way, in a lean but ripped way. Though this whole shitty persona is making him completely unlikable. He's no one to own me like he did to the DJ especially after seeing someone behind my back.

He glances at me and gives me a quick smile before his hard glare sets at the asshole.

"What are you going to do huh? I can beat you without batting my eye twice", the asshat says and winks at me.

I see Jake's jawline tightening so hard, it could cut a diamond. Uh oh, I wouldn't wish to be that guy at all. Jake suddenly moves and punches the guy's eye. He howls in pain and covers his eye with his hand. "What the fuck man, WHAT THE FUCK!", he keeps screaming in pain, his sound piercing my brain through my ears.

"Didn't you say you would not bat your eyes twice? I can see one of them battling quite furiously", Jake states flatly and puts his hands in his pockets, "I told you not to mess with my woman but you did. She's mine and nobody should not dare lay more than a finger tip on her or even look her wrong. You all get that?" and declares me his to the whole place, like he already hadn't.

'Yayy", I hear towards my right and find Jessy jumping in excitement. I seriously would never get used to her constant disappearing on me. I walk towards her and pull her ear. "Ow, what was that for?"

"You ghosted when I needed you. Where the hell did you go?", I ask her, faking anger at her.

"Somebody told me that there was a person in the bathroom calling me so I went there. Now I know who that somebody is", she tips her head towards Jake, who is looking at me. I look the other way and ask Jessy if she's going come with me to my house. "Nah I'll stay with Angela, you go have fun", the damn brat snickers and gets busy.

I move towards Jake who thinks I'm approaching him. I reach where he is standing but don't stop and keep moving, heading towards the exit. I'm about to push the door open when I pause and look back at him. "Are you gonna join me this time or still planning to just be the knight in shining armour and scram away?", I taunt him and wait for his reply, tilting my head sidewards as if I'm impatient when in reality, my heart thumps hard, just longing hard for him, for an explanation that he didn't do it.

He doesn't reply and moves towards me, looking me in the eye the whole time as he confidently strides towards me. He places his hand on my back, ushering me forward. We move outside and the cool blow of the weather makes my spine shake a little. He removes his hoodie and hands it to me.

As much as I would love to refuse it, I don't wish to make myself suffer from the cold and wear it up. It covers my dress completely, appearing as if I'm only wearing a hoodie. He looks at me and approvingly nods at my appearance. Before I could call him out for the expression he just made, a cab stops in front of us and the driver pops his head out asking, "Jake?"

"Yeah", he replies in a word and opens the door for me to sit in before joining in himself. The whole ride to 'my house', hah the audacity, goes by silent. I rest the left side of my face against the cool window of the cab and shut my eyes, the whole day's exhaustion and alcohol kicking in.

I rub my eyes and find myself propped up on my favourite bean bag. I find Jake emerging out from the bathroom, wiping his hands, wearing a black wifebeater.

"Guess who decided to show up", I taunt him, averting my gaze away from his body, "Aren't you still busy? Also that new hacker girl, haven't you already fallen for her?."

"Well, maybe I was too busy being yours to fall for somebody new?", he tells me, holding my hands in his and raising them upto his lips to kiss each knuckle of mine.

"It hurt me a lot you know. Thinking how you got together with someone while I still was in love with you."

"Yeah, I could see how desperate you were to forget me that you went for losers", he scoffs and moves towards the bar in the living room, choosing a bottle to chug on. "Please for the love of god, stop stockpiling Bacardi."

I look at him, trying to form words to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out. So I take him in, how he swigs open the bottle and chugs at it like water. I also find traces of a tattoo from the little skin exposed from his back.

"You got a tattoo?"

"Hm"

"I must say, you are so good with words. A great conversationalist", I roll my eyes, frustrated from the lack of proper replies from him.

"I'm good with my hands too. Just saying."

What the-. He did not just say that! My face burns up from his response. I get up and move towards the restroom to have a shower, removing each garment as I move. First 2 steps, his hoodie, next 2 steps, my heels, next 2 steps my dress and on the door of the bathroom, both my bra and panties.

I don't have to turn back to find out that he's seeing. I KNOW that he saw the whole thing, every fucking detail of it. I turn the shower on and get in the lukewarm water, counting my fingers on how long it takes for him to burst in.

I barely make it to 5 when the door is slammed open. "Ooh that was quick."

"The only thing that would be quick this evening. Now turn around, I have to clean every part of your body where that shitcrap touched you."

I comply with his demands, of course they weren't requests, and let him clean my body. He turns off the shower and grabs the loofah, pouring the shower gel and lathering my skin. He gently goes all the way from my back to my lower legs. The feeling, oh god, it was intoxicating.

He then reached up to my thighs, making me open my legs further by tapping on my inner thighs. I did, though the moment he started moving the loofah in tiny circles, my thighs clenched back despite my attempts to keep them apart.

"Hold onto the handrail", he commands and when I do, he squats down, holding one of my inner thigh with his fingers clenching deep into the skin, while the other hand holding the loofah manages to keep the other thigh from reuniting.

"Didn't you say that you'll be cleaning the parts he touched? I don't remember him touching me here though."

"So do you want me to stop?", he crooks one of his brows at me, mockingly questioning me. "From the lack of response, I guess you do not wish for me to proceed. That's okay then, I'll get going."

"No! I mean it's not like... Argh... It's not inconvenient to me", I try to say it in the most discreet manner but fuck, he's going to make me say it.

"What do you want me to do exactly?"

"Er, um, what you were doing before."

"Say it. Come on. I don't have the whole day."

I flush up and try to speak up but oh shit, it's gonna sound like it has to. "I- I want you to, um, continue cleaning me with the, eh, loofah"

"Hm, not bad but I'm sorry, I'm bored now. Serves you right for going after other men", he fake yawns and starts towards the door.

"Okay then, I'll find someone else to do that then if you won't", I say up, fully aware of how I'm treading into dangerous territories. Uh oh, he slowly looks back at me, his eyes squinting at me. He moves up to me and pins both of my wrists to the wall, whispering, "Do that and you'll be responsible for that man's torture ridden death."

I lick my lips, tracing them seductively as I watch into his eyes with defiance. He puts one of his knees between my thighs, rubbing it in as he says, "MC, you do not wish to play this game with me, because if I get serious, you're just going to be at my mercy and I won't stop even if you beg me to."

He lets go of my wrist and pats at my cheek as he makes his away out but before he could, I turn on the shower, drenching him completely.

He lifts me up from my thighs and pins to the wall again, this time my legs crossed around him and lightly grinding against him. His fingers clench into my butt's skin, deep, making me beg for his touch. "Just do it. Please, Jake."

He fiercely pulls back my hair and grabs my chin tightly to which I end up hissing in pain. Then he slams his lips on mine, sending wild tremors along my back. I love how his insistent lips part mine's, making me quiver so hard against this lips that I moan in his mouth which drives him crazier than he already was. He slides his tongue in, fighting with my own's in our little fight for dominance. Though I'm completely aware of the fact that I lost that battle the moment he claimed his love for me a little while back.

He steps back a little without warning, making me lose my balance. I'm about to complain when he lifts off his wifebeater, pants and everything else that follows.

"Come on now, I don't wish to hear you sneeze while I make you come", he says and wraps a towel around me, lifting me up in a fireman's lift.

I try to fake my anger, squealing with sheer delight as he lifts me towards the bedroom.

Here's the soundtrack guys, if you wanna you read with effects. Haha.

The latino song which plays in the beginning.

The song which Jake requests:

The song in the shower:

[onceuponastory]

lies - nick fowler x reader

You only ever touch me in the dark Only if we're drinking can you see my spark And only in the evening could you give yourself to me 'Cause the night is your woman, and she'll set you free

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Female Reader Plot: Y/N senses her boyfriend Nick’s sweet words are nothing but lies. Very loosely based on the song Lies by Marina and the Diamonds. Warnings: Small mentions of moaning and love bites. Nothing majorly NSFW though. Also a tiny violence mention. I HAVE seen The 355 (feel free to dm me for my thoughts), but this one shot doesn’t have any plot spoilers for the movie. I did try to make Nick just like his character in the movie as much as I could though, so if that’s a spoiler for you I guess be warned? Hahaha. Notes: My first Nick fic is here! And it’s definitely not the last one either... I hope you all enjoy it! 

“So what’s up with you, then?” Y/N glances up to see her coworker looking down at her. Y/N frowns.

“What?” Her coworker rolls her eyes and gestures towards the corner of the room. 

“Don’t act all shy. I can see you making lovey-dovey eyes at Nick. Actually, I think half of the building has noticed by now. But then again, most of the building has a crush on him too.” Y/N’s cheeks flush slightly, despite how much she tries to prevent it. Of course, given that they work in the CIA, she can’t exactly be surprised she’s been figured out so quickly. Even if they’re both more secretaries than agents. Her coworker grins and leans in closer. “If you want, I can talk to him. Put in a good word and everything.” She whispers.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, it-” Y/N begins, trying desperately to get her coworker to shut up. Soon, a voice cuts her off. Unfortunately, it’s the voice belonging to the person she least wants to hear from right now.

“What won’t be necessary?” Nick asks, looking between them both. Y/N notices how his blue eyes scan over her body ever so slowly. How his lips part ever so slightly as he makes his way up her body. His glance sends shivers over her entire body, and his eyes soon rest on her face. He gives her a smirk, and she hates how her heart almost stops as he does so. Why must she be so obviously in love with him? Why couldn’t Nick just be a regular person and not so fucking gorgeous?

“Oh, nothing, Nick.” Her coworker grins, looking between the pair. “But I need to go get the reports, so I’ll leave you two to it.”

“No, wait, I’ll go-” Y/N protests, but her coworker simply winks and leaves. Y/N sighs. Dammit.

“Frankly, I’m a little hurt that you’re so unwilling to see me.” Nick remarks. “It’s not very nice, you know.” She can tell he’s just being annoying to try and get a rise out of her, and despite how much her heart and body aches for him, she tries her best to ignore it.

“Nick, I’m busy right now. As I’m sure you are too...if you’d ever show it.” She responds, not looking up from her laptop.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you are. But I just came to drop something off. See you later, babe.” He hands her a sheet of folded paper, and with one last smile and a wink, he’s gone. Sighing, Y/N opens the paper.

“Come to my place at 7.30pm. Wear something nice. Nick x”

In response, Y/N shoves the note in her desk drawer, resting her head in her hands. Unbeknownst to all of their coworkers, Y/N and Nick have been in a secret relationship for the past three months. And Y/N’s happy about it. Of course, she is. After all, she’s with the love of her life: Nick Fowler, arguably the sexiest agent in the whole of the CIA, and she sees him almost every night, whilst her coworkers are stuck fantasising about him. But despite her happiness, Y/N can’t hide her feelings of insecurity. Insecurities that have been growing stronger for the past few weeks.

From the beginning, Nick had always told her that he wanted to keep the relationship secret from everyone. “Trust me, it’s just because of my job. I haven’t got a choice.” He’d tell her, peppering her jawline with kisses as he did so. Kisses that she swears made her melt and forget her worries for a little bit. And, of course, she agreed. Because, after all, he’s an agent in the CIA. Being with her could blow his cover or put them both in danger. And Nick being hurt because of her is the last thing she wants. So that’s what she tells herself on the days when she wishes that she could introduce Nick to her parents or to her friends, because god, she finally found a good guy this time. She’s just protecting them both. That’s all.

And that’s what she continues to tell herself, even when she swears that Nick finished his last undercover mission months ago, but he’s still telling her that they have to keep things a secret just a little bit longer. Even when she sees Nick making eyes at other female agents, or when he comes to her place smelling like someone else’s perfume with lipstick marks that he’s clearly tried to wipe off still smeared on his cheeks. Even when she swears that he’s getting some sort of pleasure from seeing all the women in the office, including her, falling over themselves to talk to him. She can still picture the cocky grin on his face as they follow him down the hallways or into his office. But when she’d protest, Nick would reassure her that she’s the only woman for him by whispering sweet nothings in her ear and by pressing kisses on her jawline again. And she’d fall in love with him all over again and keep quiet for a little bit longer. She knows she’s being stupid for continuing to trust him, but she swears Nick Fowler definitely has some kind of power over her...and one of these days, she’s going to break it. If only he wasn’t so damn good at using it.

But now, she’s starting to grow more and more tired of all his empty promises. More heartbroken by his lies. She wants the world to know that she’s in love with Nick Fowler and that he’s in love with her. Or at least...she hopes he’s in love with her. In all honesty, she doesn’t want to go and spend another night with him and then be a nobody the next day all over again. Sighing, she leans back in her chair, trying to think of something to do. In an ideal world, she’d throw the paper in his face and tell him to fuck off, but her heart aches at the thought of it. She loves him too much for that. But she still has to find answers, so she knows what she has to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Y/N arrives at Nick’s place, right on time. She knocks on the door, and Nick opens it almost immediately, grinning as soon as he sets eyes on her. He’s in a sweater and jeans instead of his usual works’ suit that she’s used to seeing him in, but he’s still just as attractive as ever. Unfortunately for Y/N, however, that means her task for the evening isn’t made any easier. Taking her hand, Nick gently pulls her into the house, closing the door behind her.

“Hey, gorgeous. I missed you so much.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her lips. Once he’s done, he begins kissing her jawline and moving down her neck. She hates how she almost moans as he makes her way down her neck. By this point, it’s like an instinct to her. “It was so tough seeing you at work today. You looked so good in that dress. I just wanted to pull it off of you. But now...I’ve got you all to myself.” He grins before his lips return to her skin.

“Mmm...no, Nick...” She whispers as he continues to kiss her skin delicately. “Stop...” She breathes, and he pulls away from her, cocking his head to the side.

“What is it?” Y/N takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Nick raises his eyebrows, and before she can even continue, he speaks.

“Let me guess. You want to know why we’re not official.” He scoffs. “This again? Really?” He sighs. “Babe, I keep telling you this. We can’t compromise my mission. I’ll tell everyone after it.” Y/N shakes her head.

“Oh, that’s bullshit, Nick! You’ve not been on a mission in almost two weeks! I know this because I’m the one who gave you the report from the last one! All you do is wander around the building and annoy me to see if I’ll get a rise out of it, or to talk to all the other women in the building. Again, I guess it’s to see if I get a rise out of it.” She argues. Nick stands and stares at her, his arms folded. “I just...I just want everyone to know that we’re together, that’s all!” She announces defeatedly, throwing her hands into the air. Nick chuckles, and she hates how it makes her feel. He’s laughing at her. She’s just admitted her worries to him, and he’s laughing at her.

“Babe, if you want me to cover you in love bites so everyone knows you’re taken by me, that’s all you had to say.” He smirks at her. He leans in closer, and his eyes scan over her body once again. This time, however, she only feels anger as he does so. Nick leans in closer, as if to start marking her body, and she moves back from him.

“Nick, this isn’t funny. I’m serious. I want...” She trails off, huffing as she feels tears building in her eyes. “...I just want you to want me! To want all of me, everywhere! I want to be a regular couple who has dates in public! I’m fed up of being a secret, Nick! I’m fed up of only being yours at nighttime...just, please, no more secrecy!” She begs. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to see all these women throwing themselves at you but knowing I can’t do anything about it? Like who would believe me, huh? Who would think that Y/N Y/L/N would be able to date Nick Fowler, the hottest agent in the CIA?!”

“Women throw themselves at me? Really? Hm. I never noticed.” Nick grins, which only makes her angrier.

“Oh please, of course you’ve noticed. I can see it all written over your face. Stop bullshitting me.” She orders. Suddenly, a thought enters her mind. “Wait...is that why you want to keep us a secret? So you can keep getting all the attention?” Nick sighs, shaking his head slightly. She can tell he’s lying right away. “It is! God, I should’ve guessed it from the start.” She scoffs.

“No, you’re wrong-” Nick begins, but Y/N continues, cutting him off.

“Of course! Where would the great Agent Nick Fowler be without all his adoring fans? He can’t handle being the best agent in the CIA, so he has to have all the women in the agency falling over themselves for him too!”

“Y/N...I’m warning you.” Nick speaks, his voice lower. “Shut. Up.” But Y/N is too invested to not be quiet. 

“Or what, Nick? Have I touched a nerve?” Nick’s face slowly starts to turn into a glare. “What is it then? Can’t you handle being called out? You don’t want to lose everything because if you do, everyone will see that without all your fans and your status, you’re really just a nobody?” In an instant, Nick storms forward.

“I said. Shut. Up. Now, do as you’re told, and shut your mouth.” He hisses, sending a shiver up her spine. His blue eyes are cold, and he regards her with a glare. “And besides, you want to talk about nobodies? Really?” He begins, stepping back from her. “You really think I’d bother myself dating some fucking secretary when I could have any woman in the whole of the CIA? Yeah, I wouldn’t. You were just a fun bit on the side, babe. You’re not the first, and you definitely won’t be the last. It was nice spending time with you though, not going to lie. Actually...” He stops himself to chuckle. “I guess nowadays people call that stringing someone along.” Her heart breaks, and Nick continues to smirk at her. Y/N slaps him hard across the cheek.

“Fuck you.” She spits. Nick chuckles.

“I already did fuck you, babe. And it wasn’t that good, to be honest.” He leans in closer. “Now, get the fuck out of my house.” 

“Gladly.” Y/N turns on her heel and walks back towards the door.

“See you at work tomorrow, babe.” He calls after her. She can just picture the smug grin on his face as he says it. A smug grin she wants to punch right off of his face. Instead, she flips him off, causing him to scoff. Once she reaches the door, she turns around, giving him one last glance.

“Go to hell Nick.”

“By the way Y/N, don’t let the door hit you on the ass too hard on your way out. I’m quite fond of it, actually.” He chuckles. “After all, if I’m not able to grab it anymore, I’d at least like it to still stare at it when it’s in good condition” With a roll of her eyes, and one more middle finger directed at him, Y/N slams the door closed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[wiypt-writes]

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

A Frank Adler One Shot.

Summary: It’s Frank’s wedding night… but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+) allusions to cheating…

Pairings:  Frank Adler x Reader

A/N: Just a little smutty one shot featuring everyone’s favourite Dirty Boat Daddy. Written for @onlyjamesbarnes 1.5k Follower Challenge. Prompt in bold. Congrats babe!!

Lyrics from Fall Out Boy- Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Frank Adler Master list // Main Masterlist

❤️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔

I'm gonna make you bend and break,

Say a prayer, but let the good times roll

In case God doesn't show…

Frank had always been powerless to resist you. He was a moth to your flame, but like always, you play with fire and you get burnt.

But now, you were the one burning, burning hotter than the sun.

With a groan, you ground your hips down as you leaned back, rolling and rocking down onto him. That face, sharp chiselled jawline covered by a slightly nearer than usual scruff looked back at you, his perfect profile silhouetted against the moonlight which drifted through the curtains of the hotel room.

How could something that wrong feel so fucking right?

And I want these words to make things right, But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.

"Who does he think he is?"

If that's the worst you've got, better put your fingers back to the keys

He shouldn’t have let you in, but you knew he would as soon as he fired you the message with his room number. Your signature knock had sounded across the plush suite he was spending his last night as a ‘single’ man in, and like a sacrificial lamb welcoming its slaughter, he’d opened the door.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to see you.” You blinked up at him. He was still in his slacks and dress shirt, from the rehearsal you’d sat through, tie discarded, collar open. He cut a stark contrast to the boat greased and oil stained, salty air cured man you were used to.

He held the door open for you, stepping back and allowing you in. Without a word you walked over to the grand windows the space provided, offering a look at the shoreline outside and below. The view was breathtaking at night, the moonlight shining off the waves as they lapped at the shore, mere metres away from where tomorrow he would take his vows.

Through the reflection of the window behind you, you could see him just as his hands gripped at your waist. You turned on the ball of your foot, manicured fingers running up his chest from his strong pecs to his collarbones and over his shoulders to around his neck, your lips quickly on his. Your tongue slipped inside, tasting a hint of scotch, a half drunk glass of which sat on the small coffee table to the right. Frank moaned against your mouth while your fingers slipped through the neatly trimmed hair of his neck.

You pushed against him slightly with your body, the back of his legs hitting the chair besides the coffee table and he took a seat, breaking your kiss.

“This shouldn’t-“

“Shhh.” You shook your head. “Just give me tonight, please.”

He stared at you with lust blown eyes, different to the playful glint he normally possessed when he used to look at you, as you thought for a second about your next move, bottom lip already swollen from his kiss between your teeth.

You knew he was a goner.

"Y/N," he managed to croak out as you straddled his lap, seating yourself over his now hard cock, the rough fabric of his dark dress pants constraining him, giving you just enough teasing friction agasint your sensitive inner thighs. His large hands slid up your thighs and under your light coloured, flowy dress as you moved your lips over his again, giving him access to your ass, finger tips grazing the barely there material of your panties.

You ground down against him, your hips rolling in a circular motion as he growled into your mouth, squeezing your cheeks with his hands. You kicked off your sandals, making a thud as they hit the plush carpet. A sound that matched that of your heart. A heart that squeezed in your chest, as if someone had wound and elastic band around its middle knowing that tomorrow you’d watch him takes his vows.

And everything would change.

Frank broke away from your lips, to lick and nip at your jaw and down your neck, tongue rolling against your sternum. His face drilled between your breasts, inhaling your scent.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and plucked them open skillfully, French manicured nails raking across his chest, causing him to shudder and groan. You reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it with little trouble, lifting your hips slightly, showing a strength in your thighs as you lifted away from him, to undo his flies. You adjusted yourself, pushing up on your knees just a little to allow the room you needed to dip your hand just under his boxers waistline, gently gripping at his dick.

“No, not here.” He growled, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. “I want you in the bed.”

The bed. Where he would spend his first night as a married man.

It was so wrong.

Yet you happily obliged.

It was a well practiced tango the pair of you had danced over the years, and now here you were, him keening underneath you with a desperation you’d come to know well.

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls and it gave you the chills. You held the power and control as he struggled to keep his.

With a quick movement, Frank sat up, pulling you flush against his chest, the angle hitting you just at that pleasurable spot he always managed to hit within you. His head dropped, lips and teeth gently teasing your nipple, large hands splayed agains your spine as he lavished you with affection.

You started grinding down harder, looking for that clitoral stimulation you wanted and as you found it, he moaned deeply into your ear.

“I’m close, but I don’t wanna… not yet.” His words were a plea, a plea that he wasn’t ready to end, and you knew he didn’t simply mean tonight.

But it had to. There was no way around it.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great

"He tastes like you only sweeter"

"Just...let...go," you purred against him.

"Oh fahk," he ground out as his feet planted firmly into the mattress and his hips thrust upward. It didn't take much, a few strong and hard drives and you were crying out his name, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you came around around him.

"Jesus, fahkk, I'm gonna fahking.... Oh fahk," he swore vehemently, his old Boston drawl thick as he drove hard into you for a final time, exploding his load deep into you, spraying your walls with ribbons of white cream.

The pair of you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. Frank kept you held to his chest as you both drew ragged, heaving breaths. After a moment, Frank pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, no words needed.

And you blinked back a solitary tear.

*****

I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad.

And this crystal ball, it’s always cloudy except for when you look into the past

One night stand

Frank had fallen asleep with you in his arms, not quite ready to let you go. But you were long gone by the time he woke the next morning, the only evidence you’d been in his room was a scribbled note on the pad on the night stand.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of your life.”

He’d folded the note up and slipped it into his breast pocket, not quite sure why. Maybe it would keep you close to him in those moments he needed to feel you, who knows.

Who knows why any of this had started in the first place.

He watched Mary walk down the aisle first, her bouquet in her hand had been dropped as she had leapt into his arms for a hug, laughing as she told him how excited she was. He’d kissed her cheek and placed her down and she stood by his side, watching as his bride and her father started towards him.

It was then Frank’s eyes had found yours as you watched him, and he swallowed, his chest contracting.

He could still feel your eyes on him and he couldn’t get the image of you bouncing on top of his cock out of his head. He blinked as someone said his name, and he looked at the officiant, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, little nervous.” He apologised, flashing a cheeky grin before he took a deep breath.

A couple of I-Dos later, he was told to kiss his wife. So he did.

And all he could taste was you.

Man and wife walked hand in hand down the aisle to applause, and at the end they stopped and the new Mrs Adler peered up at Frank, a soft smile on her face.

“You happy?”

“Of course.” He smiled back.

“Good, because choosing me to spend your life with, well, I actually think it’s the second best choice you’ve ever made in your life.”

Frank blinked as he heard the click of the photographer's camera. “Oh? The second? What was the first?”

“Letting me into your room last night.” You grinned, your hand sliding up his tux, the diamond studded band catching the sun, glinting in the bright light.

Frank grinned at you, before he arched his eyebrow. “Time will tell if it really was bad luck to see my wife the night before.”

“Didn’t feel like bad luck to me,” you smirked, you hand gently tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as he dropped his head to kiss you, the cheers and applause once more chiming in your ears.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories

[tommyfroggie]

Chapter Two: Why are you doing this?

Summary: A date with Tom to his favorite club turns out.. not how you expected.

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Mob!FemReader {Mafia AU}

Warnings: fluff, light angst, drug use, OVERDOSE.

Word Count: 1.8K

NO CHOICE MASTERLIST

-----

This is exactly what the message said:

Hey y/n, I'm sure you've heard all about our arrangement. I can't wait to see you soon. I'd like to spend some time with you before we get married. Also, I already have your number, of course, but I dm'd you because you might have freaked out.

Even though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes so hard that they could have come out. Just as you were about to reply back something venomous, another text appeared from your dad.

Be nice to him, he's a good bloke.

You rolled your again, but then you decided to go along with it. What could be worse than being friendly, gaining his trust and then ripping everything off completely. You figured you'd let him fall in love with you slowly and then you'd just run away. Maybe to Vegas, forever.

So, you texted him back very politely.

Hey Tom. I can't wait to see you beforehand either, why don't we meet at the club near my house tomorrow at 8. I'm assuming you know where my house is. And, you can text me on my number :)

Maybe the smily face was a bit too much but whatever.

Great, I'll pick you up tomorrow.

You shut your phone and sighed loudly. You even tried to go to sleep but you couldn't. You were afraid he'd come in your dreams if you did.

*

As you were putting on a bit of light makeup to go, your dad entered your room, without knocking, might I add.

"Can you fucking knock?"

"You're going out with Tom?" He asked blankly.

"Well, yeah. I'm not just going to see him for the first time and marry him on the day. At least I would like to get to know him" You spat, while continuing on your face.

"Okay, have a good time" Did he seriously just say that and leave? You had put on a low cut, shiny dress, paired with your diamond bracelets, black heels and a limited edition purse.

Just then, Andrew said from your outside your door "Ma'am, a car is here for you"

"Great" You mumbled sarcastically as you admired yourself one last time in your full length mirror before leaving.

The car was a complete black, with tinted windows and of course it was very expensive. You had a collection of your own personal cars as well.

When you got in the car, you expected to see a driver but it was Tom himself. What a gentleman move. He's going to drive you himself. Poor guy is going to be destroyed when you leave him.

"Hey" You smiled.

"Hey, darling. You look gorgeous" His chocolate brown eyes scanned you up and down.

"Thanks, you look great yourself" You stuttered out. He does have a way with words. He was wearing a classy button up shirt with a maroon blazer and pants, paired with a glinting Rolex of course. All that with his slicked back hair and sharp jawline, he looked gorgeous too, in fact.

The club was five minutes away but you noticed he took a turn before it.

"Where are we going?" You asked.

"Change of plans. I'm taking you to my favourite club, you'll love it"

"Okay" You mumbled. His thick, British accent was like music to your ears.

Most of the ride was silent until he slowly crept a hand over your thigh. "Is this okay, darling?" He asked ever so softly, looking at you.

And oh fuck did that 'darling' do something to your insides. "Y-yeah" you replied and he smiled at you, giving your thigh a light squeeze.

It's funny how your motive for the day was 'Seduce and Destroy', yet somehow his charm had you wrapped around his finger already.

There was still a few minutes to reach so you just asked him the question. "This- This is so weird for me I- I never knew you were-"

"A feared Mob Boss?" He completed your sentence as you nodded.

"Heh. So I've been told. I didn't know about you either, until a few months ago"

"I always just thought you're an actor with a frog in your mouth" You mumbled the last part.

"Wowwww not you too!" He pretended to be highly offended and his boyish behavior made you laugh, which made him laugh too.

You two made light conversation for the rest of the way as he explained to you that acting was always his first interest but, he knew he had to run the Mob too. He mastered keep the two of those separate parts of life over the years. In turn, you explained to him how music was always something you loved but you also loved the Mob more and look forward to completely running soon.

You two exchanged quite a few jokes and you realized that you hadn't laughed or opened up like this to anyone in ages. You had also completely forgotten about your promises to yourself by the time you reached.

It was quite a huge place, seemed welcoming. You could hear the music blasting from inside. He surprised you, AGAIN, by stepping out of his car first and rushing to your door to help you out. Damn, he's really just being the sweetest person possible. Heh, that's not good.

You accepted his hand and gave him a smile as you stepped out. Was that a genuine smile? Fuck. But how could you not?

There was a large line outside but he slipped a hand around your waist and gave one quick look to the guard, enough for him to let you two in at once. The vibes the place gave were simply amazing. The blinding lights with aesthetic frames and teal sofas around tables were a great touch. The music playing was not your type but it was all great otherwise. You could see why he liked it.

You two sat down on one of the tables, close to each other as he ordered the drinks. "You like it?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah. I can see why you like it" You repeated your thought from earlier. You made a mental note to not drink a lot. You had to be in your senses. As your drinks came, you both made conversation and you don't know why, but you opened up about how you've never done anything like this before, the whole dates and relationships thing, not with your hectic life.

At that, he gently took your hand and said "It's okay, darling. I'm here to teach you anything and everything. We're in this together." And my god, you melted right there. Then, maybe you lost control and downed the alcohol. You took him by his wrist and led him ro dance floor in between a shit ton of people. He licked his lips, eyes filled with lust as he watched you shamelessly grind your ass against his front, you could feel his gun on the side of his pants. He placed his hand on your waist, enjoying every second of your hips moving to the beat.

And then, he just... turned you around and pressed his lips against yours. You wanted to back away, you really did, but you just couldn't. It was like euphoria. It felt surreal. Like your lips were made for each other, oh the way they perfectly molded.

"Fuck, your lips taste amazing" He mumbled while diving his tongue in to explore your mouth as you moaned into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck. You didn't want to, it was intoxicating, but a few seconds later you both had to break apart for air.

He placed his forehead against yours as you both stared into each other's eyes, it was like everything else around you in that moment, stopped. And weirdly enough, a soft song was playing. You couldn't help but lean up and give another small peck on his lips as he smiled.

At this point, your mind was on overdrive. Anxiety was oozing out of you, but you hid it well. Your brain was filled with the thoughts.

'What is wrong with me?!'

'Why did I do that??'

'He's the enemy!'

'He's so fucking...pretty though'

'FUCK!'

You both didn't talk much after it and a few minutes later, it was 2.30 in the morning and time to leave. Before you two went outside, you blurted out the question. The temptation was too much to not give in. "W-Why are you doing this?" You didn't dare make eye contact with him.

He was shocked at your sudden question but he knew it needed to be answered. "I just- I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you and when I learnt you're my enemy's fucking daughter. I just had to. I had an opportunity to make you mine, so I did" He said, boldly.

His words shocked you, making your anxiety a hundred times worse. You just nodded sadly as he led you out. It was all getting too much. The person you're supposed to hate kissed you and you couldn't help but kiss back. He also admitted his love for you on the first day of meeting you and of course, you couldn't say it back. Of course you didn't love him. Yet. But there was something deep down in you. Maybe a feeling, a little affection for the British boy. You hated yourself for it. You didn't even know him yet, with his charm, he didn't even seem like a Mob boss.

So, as you were about to get in the car, "Hey, I'm just gonna to the restroom for a bit. Y-You could wait in the car"

"Yeah sure" He said as he got in and you rushed to one of the bathroom stalls in the pub, locking yourself in. Your hands wete shaking at this point. You fumbled and took out your entire packet of pills from inside you bra and flushed them down your throat. You felt the relief, but you also felt your vision blur and next thing, you passed out on the bathroom floor, foamy drugs oozing out of your mouth.

*

You'd been gone for 15 minutes now and Tom was starting to get worried. He grabbed his loaded gun and made his way back inside. He could make out which stall you were in, because of the diamonds shining from underneath.

"Y/n?" He knocked gently. When he received no response, he knocked again, harsher this time. No response again. He could tell something was really wrong. It was probably instinct. He pushed hard against the door and it broke down at once, revealing your passed out, overdosed figure by the wall surface.

"Fuck!! Y/n! No, no, no, shit!"

-----

a/n: Uh oh. That's not good.

-----

Taglist:

@livieweasley @racewife2004 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mn-jun @spidey-central @yoursopretty15

[afterglow-tommylee]

Chapter 15. The Sun Would Rise In The Jasmine Skies

Malibu California, April 19 2002

As I stand in front of the full floor to ceiling mirrors that surround the bed in our bedroom, wearing my Louis Vutton black strappy stilettos, I slip on the gold chain straps to my Christian Dior newsprint knee length backless dress that hugged my body in all the right places, and flowed from my hips in an asymmetrical a line cut. I had just finished my makeup, my classic black smokey eye looking perfectly dramatic and I couldn't decide whether to wear my curls up or leave them down. 

It was the night of our engagement party, and Tommy had invited everyone - and I mean everyone - to his club that he owned, Venus, the club that Lizzy and I had gone to the first night after I met him. 

Tommy made dinner reservations at Nostimos to have dinner beforehand with his mother and sister since they aren't able to come to the party, which is right around the corner from Venus. I was a little nervous since this will be the first time I'm meeting his mother and his sister. 

I still cannot believe that we are getting married. I have never been so happy in my entire life, and I know I keep saying it but I really thought I would never ever feel this way again. I can't even believe he asked me to marry him. Me? Really? He wants to marry me? Like man, sometimes I still don't know just what he even sees in me.

"Babe! You almost ready up there or what?" Tommy calls up the stairs with a laugh.

"Yea, yea... no, I don't know," I call gathering my dark curls in my hands and attempting to see what I would look like with my hair up, turning my back to the mirror and looking over my shoulder, then letting my curls fall to see if that looked any better. I caught a glimpse of the diamond ring on my finger in the reflection, shining so brightly in the glow of the late afternoon sun coming through the room and I looked down at it, falling in love with how it sat perfectly on my finger.

"Vhat are youz doin-guh my leetle von, you are makinz us late!" He yells up at me in his slimy greek guy accent that he does sometimes that makes me laugh uncontrollably, though right now I was just trying to concentrate on what to do... but still ended up laughing.

"Ok just...," I laughed, calling down to him. "I'm fixin my hair my love, just give me a wee bit of time," I add trying to do my terrible irish accent back to him and I hear him laugh from downstairs as I run over to my dresser, grab a few bobby pins and make a quick updo with my curls on top of my head with some cascading down, giving myself a double check to make sure it would stay, then spritz a bit of perfume - Tommy's favorite of course- and then make my way out of the room, to the open loft staircase and quickly make my way down the steps to see Tommy at the bottom of the staircase waiting for me.

He wore a white collared shirt, with only the bottom 3 buttons done up, his necklaces laying perfectly against his chest as usual, jeans with his silver studded belt and belt buckle and his red converse Chuck Taylors with a black fedora hat. He looked so incredibly handsome I almost couldn't control myself. 

He smiles at me and places his hand on his chest and I give him a confused look and then say, "What?" 

"Just checking," He says.

"Checking for what?" I ask and stop in front of him a step or two before the marble floor so that I was the same height as he was.

"Checking to see if my heart is still beating" He says, his dark eyes looking into mine. 

"Stop," I chuckle with a shy smirk.

"No way," He says and leans into me while I place my palms on either side of his face, and he presses his lips to mine,  then moves his lips to my jawline,

"Fuck, you smell so amazing, I could just... mmmm" He says leaning back into me, placing his lips to my earlobe, then that spot under my earlobe again, trailing to my jawline, then back to my lips. 

"C'mon, my love we are runnin' a wee bit late,We don't want yer Ma waitin now," I say in my terrible irish accent again once I part my lips from his and he laughs.

*****

Hollywood California, Nostimos, Hollywood April 19 2002

About an hour-ish later we arrived at the restaurant, and somehow a few photographers found out about our dinner at Nostimos and were waiting outside taking photos. The camera lights flashing made me incredibly nervous, especially since some of the photographers were yelling questions about who I was, but Tommy held my hand the entire time, giving them a subtle wave and said nothing as we stepped inside.  All I could feel was my heart pounding. I've never experienced anything like that before, like usually it was only random fans coming up to Chris and being so sweet and asking for an autograph or something but nothing like that at all. 

I'm always so damn nervous when I'm meeting a parent and all that flashing and photos being taken outside did not help at all. I remember the first time I met Chris's mom and I was a nervous wreck. I was so young and so shy that I barely said 3 words to her. Also it didn't help that Chris didn't actually get along with his mother very well and so that made it even more awkward.

"Uh, reservations for Lee" Tommy says in that deep voice to the tall blonde hostess at the front of the restaurant. She then looks down and checks the list of reservations in the little black book. 

'Sure, right this way," She smiles and leads us into the restaurant, Tommy still holding my hand as we walk closely together. 

"Does that happen a lot?" I ask, looking up at him.

"Not as much as it used to," He says looking down at me.

We finally reach the table to see his mom and his sister and they both rise as Tommy greets them so sweetly giving his mom a hug.

"Mom, this is Andi.. babe, this is my mom Vassilikki, but everyone calls her Voula," Tommy says once he lets go of her and turns to me, his mom waving at him dismissively.

"Hi," I smile shyly and she smiles back at me.

"Hello, it is very nice to meet you," She says sweetly in her greek accent, then embracing me in a hug which caught me a little off guard but I welcomed it of course. She is gorgeous, and Tommy looks so much like her. No wonder she was Miss Greece. 

"It's so nice to meet you too, Tommy has told me so much about you," I say once we pull away from each other.

"All good I hope," She smiles.

"Yes," I giggle.

"And uh, that over there is Athena," Tommy says and she just gives him a look and he laughs.

"That? Oh gee thanks," She says sarcastically, sounding just like Tommy. "Hi, it's good to meet you" She says, turning to me and embracing me in a hug as well.

"Hi, thank you, you too," I say nervously and then we pull away from each other. After a few more moments of pleasantries we then all sit down at the table with Tommy sitting beside me and his mom and sister across from us. The waitress then comes over to ask us what we would like to start with and I knew I wanted a drink to get some of my nerves calmed down. I decide on a martini and once the waitress comes back with our drinks we continue with our conversation.

His mom asks me a ton of questions, all good ones of course, how old I am, where I'm from, how I met Tommy all of which he has told her before but I guess she wanted to hear it from me. 

"... so Tommy mentioned that you're part of management?" Athena chimes in after her mom seemed satisfied with my answers.

"Mmmm... yes," I say as I finish my sip of my martini and then add " I um, have a small management company, that I run independently. I've um, worked with Alice In Chains, Pantera, Nirvana for just a little bit early on... Soundgarden..." 

"Well that's fuckin' cool, " Athena says and her mom gives her a stern look. "Sorry mom," She says and Tommy chuckles. "So you were part of that whole grunge thing huh?" She adds and takes a sip of her drink.

"Yea," I say.

"Well it's good to see that you aren't just a... y'know a hanger on," She says.

"Athena" Tommy says after he takes a sip of his drink.

"What? Dude I'm sorry, Tommy I love you but... sometimes your choices in women are like... questionable," She says and takes a sip of her drink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He chuckles.

"Nothing," She says and Tommy just looks at her. I wasn't sure if they were arguing or if this was typical brother and sister behavior.

"So you, work in the music like my Tommy?" His mom says to me, changing the subject back to our original conversation. 

"I do. More like behind the scenes though," I say.

"You are very beautiful, why behind the scenes as you say?" She says which made me blush.

"Um, thank you," I smile sweetly at her and then add " I just have more of a talent for the business part than being up in front of y'know... millions of people," I explain and feel Tommy's hand move to my thigh rubbing comfortingly through my dress.

"And you uh, love my Tommy?" She asks, taking a sip of her wine.

"I do, very much," I say and Tommy glances at me and I look up at him.

"And you are sure you want to marry?" She asks.

"Mom," Tommy says, giving her a look. 

"What? You're my son, I need to ask questions-eh," She says in her greek accent which makes me grin to myself.

"Yes, I definitely want to marry your son without a doubt," I reassured her. She looks at Tommy and I can tell that he was giving her a hurried look, and then she looks back at me.

"Ok, then I love you too," She smiles at me and everyone laughs while Tommy shakes his head in embarrassment.