#it’s just the outer circles so far

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

I love writing in Gallifreyan. It has taken me all day to draw eight circles

[estaticheart]

ᥫ᭡. THAT’S MY SISTER YOU BITCH

Summary: Despite Sarah and Rafe’s volatile relationship, that’s your sister.

Warnings: Violence, illusions to sex, swearing.

You had a great day so far. You'd woken up to Rafe in between your legs, waking you up in the best way possible before he made you both breakfast as you watched him from the island. Sometimes you just liked to ponder on how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Rafe. To everyone else, you were far from lucky but you liked it that way- knowing only you got the real Rafe Cameron.

Now, you were on your way back from grocery shopping, planning to make Rafe a romantic meal when he arrived back from work. Blasting music from your car speakers, you were completely in the zone. Until you drove up to the City Hall, glancing ahead you saw Kelce's red truck, which you thought nothing of until you saw him and his idiotic friends surrounding John B and Sarah.

Alarmed, you pulled up next to the truck, gathering the attention of everyone. Despite being a kook yourself, you were far different from the rest of them. You didn't care about pogues, to you they were like anyone else, in fact often you preferred the pogues in the Outer Banks to the kooks. Rafe's circle exclusively consisted of kooks, meaning you often received a lot of respect from kooks even though you spent a lot of your time arguing with them. Rafe didn't mind it, you were his girlfriend and lover, so if you wanted to yell he wouldn't stop you.

"Problem?" You asked, slamming your car door shut behind you. Just as Sarah hit the ground. Immediately you rushed towards Sarah. Yeah, Rafe and Sarah had problems they needed to get past but to you, Sarah was still as important as she was 2 years ago. You were proud of her for finding her true love and true friends, and you always let her know that you would always be there for her. And this time was no exception. Putting two and two together, you saw Ruthie standing much closer to Sarah than the other kooks who looked at her in shock.

They all stood stunned at your arrival, to be honest, you were probably the worst possible person to show up at that exact moment. Everyone knew your opinions on the Pogues were far more empathetic than the other kooks. "No, no problem" Kelce muttered, beginning to pull Ruthie and the others back from Sarah and John B, to which they happily obliged. Not on your watch.

"Oh no, don't stop on my accord guys. Please whatever you were going to do next. Do it." Walking over to them, Ruthie stood stunned at your arrival. Since she started dating Topper, you got a lot of joy out of berating her, publically. For once, she didn't back down at your words. "She needs to watch herself. She pushed me first, it was self-defence." Ruthie said, glancing behind you to see John B pulling Sarah to her feet.

Snorting you replied, "Ruthie, I'm not Shoupe. Don't start pleading your case, I don't care." She stalled at your response, for a moment thinking that you were on her side for pushing Sarah before you pulled her back to reality. Walking closer to her, edgingly slow, you pressed, "You think you're all big and mighty for pushing Sarah? She's 19 Ruthie, you're what? 21? Don't you think you should play with someone your own size?"

Behind you, John B and Sarah smirked at the group. Unbeknownst to you, Sarah was pregnant and John B was far too occupied to make sure Sarah was okay than to pick a fight with Kelce and his goons today. But you happily would, and even better so because who was going to fight back against the kook princess? Definitely not these ones.

“Well?” You pushed, as you stood toe to toe with Ruthie. You were growing impatient, Rafe would have finished work by now meaning that soon he’d come looking for you- and you’d rather give Ruthie a good couple punches before Rafe showed up.

“Okay times up.” Before she could even think, your fist sent her backwards onto the floor, just how Sarah had been when when you arrived. Groaning, she lifted her hands to cover her nose, assumably bleeding- hopefully broken if Rafe’s self defence lessons had done some good. “Oh my god- I think you broke my nose. You bitch.” She shrieked, pulling her hands away to reveal blood beginning to pour from her nose.

Ruthie was nothing but a bully, a bully you’d had enough of tormenting the island. Your legs either side of her chest you crouched over her, “Don’t worry you still look just as bad as before.” You muttered as you flew your fist back into her face that she left unguarded. Idiot. Her screaming began again, as you moved off from her, deciding that your two punches had done enough damage. Wow, you’d really have to thank Rafe for those lessons.

“Just wait until Topper hears about this, he will deal with you.” One of the other kooks muttered from behind Kelce. “Yeah I’m sure Topper will be sure to deal with me.” You laughed, Topper wouldn’t touch a hair on your arm as long as you were dating Rafe- everyone knew that.

“You want to fuck with someone, not Sarah.” You spat at them, watching Ruthie sadly pull herself to her feet, with the help of no one. “That’s my sister you bitch. Now fuck off.” At your command, Kelce briskly walked back over to his truck, as the others followed just as fast, allowing you to turn back to John B and Sarah.

You were greeted to their smiling faces, both as grateful as each other. But you noticed, a twinge of emotion still lingering on Sarah’s face. Hearing you call her your sister in combination with her pregnancy hormones, was due to set her off to cry. Before she could get out any words, you spoke for her. “You are my sister regardless of whatever is going on between you and Rafe. You’re family.” Turning to John B, you continued, “That extends to you, hubby.” You winked looking down at the ring on his finger.

With a red blush covering their faces, they praised you in thank yous. “Don’t need to thank me for doing something I’ve been wanting to do for months.” Glancing back to see the red truck had disappeared.

“Now, you can thank me for warning you that Rafe will be here any minute and I’m not sure you want to see him.”

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“Baby, please be more careful next time.” Rafe muttered, as he wrapped your knuckles in bandages. He was more than shocked to find you outside the city hall- alone- but with bloody knuckles. Only with the explanation, that you had an altercation with Ruthie, surprisingly over Sarah. He was confused to say the least, he wasn’t even aware that Ruthie had a problem with his little sister. But the more he thought about it, of course she did- Topper still hadn’t gotten over her.

“In fact, there will be no next time. Ever.” Kissing your knuckles, he pulled you onto his chest as he lied back on your shared king bed. Stroking your hair, he let his mind wonder. Should he have been there to protect Sarah? But they hadn’t had a good relationship in years, he couldn’t just suddenly start caring for her. He also couldn’t let you get into situations that could get you hurt over protecting Sarah.

You noticed his body still and you knew instantly his mind was wondering thinking about Sarah. Without moving your head from his chest you spoke, “Rafe. I love Sarah. I know you have a difficult relationship at the moment and whilst you can’t protect her I will.” Letting the silence sit between you for a moment, you decided to continue.

“She’s our only family, Rafe.” He didn’t move, but you both knew how right you were. She was all you had left. “I know baby, I know.” He whispered, laying a kiss on the top of your head, before he let his mind slip back into imagining how he can rectify this broken relationship with his sister.

[thoughtssvt]

suguru conditioned you to get wet every time he tied his hair up.

over the years he got into the habit of letting his hair relax. he wore it down with the new found confidence that came from your compliments and 'hey handsome's.

the only time he wore his hair in a bun was when he was shirtless between your legs.

if there was one thing he hated it was getting interrupted while he ate. he could allow his hair getting in the way when he was kissing you, holding you close. he liked the feeling of your fingers running across his scalp. he especially liked the tug you gave it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, tongue laving and circling. a chuckle buzzing through his lips as you arched up into him.

that he could handle, but once he was face to face with your pussy he wouldn't allow it. he'd sit back on his haunches, skillfully gathering his hair into his palms with his thumbs. maybe it was just something about the way he looked down at you, carnally, ready to devour you with no restraint. maybe it was the way you knew he would do just that like he'd done so many times before.

he would run his hands up and down your thighs once his arms dropped to his sides. he'd leave soft kisses against your knee, guiding them down as he laid on his front. if your head wasn't so cloudy you would whine at the shit-eating smirk he wore as he looked at your glistening cunt.

"i haven't done much and you're already this wet?" he'd chuckle softly, so close to your skin that it felt like love wiring running under your skin, your hips bucking up into him. he'd hush you, reassure you that he'd give you everything you needed as he kissed just right above your twitching button.

"always so needy," he commented leaving open mouthed kisses on your outer lips, and though it was meant to come off snarky you couldn't help but keen like it was praise.

the first lick was always mind numbing. you held your breath as you felt his thumbs spread you open, watching his eyes flutter closed as he guided a flat tongue between your folds, the muscle giving your clit a gentle flick before he sucked it into his mouth. it was then you let your breath go, a whiny moan forcing it out.

"mmm," he hummed around you making your legs snap around his head as it shot pleasure down to your toes. "ah, ah, don't interrupt me while i eat, honey," he scolded softly, large hands prying your legs open so he could spread you up and open, pushing your knees to your chest so he could feast uninterrupted.

maybe it was better he kept his hair up despite how much you liked to tug on it. it let him focus in on your pleasure. he took his time, each move slow and calculated. he knew exactly what made your legs shake and what to do when he wanted you to suck in a deep breath, hands shooting up to the sides of your head to grip your pillow for stability.

he'd lightly scrape his nails against the sensitive skin of your thighs as he switched between slow, broad stripes against your clit to lip-bitingly quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. he'd bob his head, the gentle suck on your bud a tantalizing combo with the way the muscle swirled around it.

"so good, can't get enough of you," he'd sigh as he dropped down to your hole, gently kissing your clenching entrance before pushing his tongue in as deep it could go. he moaned at the way you twitched around him, hot and wet on his tongue.

he'd reach a hand up so his thumb could toy with your clit as he drank down your juices, steadily tongue-fucking you until your climax.

when you got your vision back there he was again, looking down at you with carnal desire, biceps bulging as he scooped his hair up into a secure bun once more, because he was definitely far from done with you.

A/N : i may have gotten carried away, i was about to go to sleep... and this was so not planned, I was supposed to write cute headcanons of how the jjk men start your apples for you. anyway I hope you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated

j‹𝟹

jjk men x reader masterlist

mdni banner by hitobaby

drip divider

[spatialwave]

don't stop.

➸ ask: "Hey could I request “just a little more. you can take a little more, can't you?” and/or “don't stop. please, don't stop.” for Jayce? Thanks!" – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x fem!reader ➸ word count: 733 ➸ tags: mdni! nsfw, shameless smut, porn w/o plot, rough, dominant jayce, praising. ➸ notes: honestly, this is just short and filthy… and it was too fun to write lol. once my asks are open again i hope to get more smutty requests, hehe. ask came from this prompt.

You loved being lost in Jayce, or better yet, him lost in you. Cock deep inside your aching cunt, stretching you so far that tears stung the corners of your eyes. It was an addictive feeling, the way he growled into your ear as he fucked you from behind, hand in your hair and tugging with a vice grip. Pulling you back to his chest, your fingers hardly able to touch the bed.

It was the better side of Jayce when he was pent-up and desperately craving release. Gentle touches were non-existent and replaced with someone who desired to make you shatter and whimper. Rough touches and filthy words spat in your ear.

Sometimes it was a lot. Enough that you squirmed beneath him, crying out.

“Baby,” he whispered sweet praises into your ear, tongue licking along the outer shell before nibbling on your lobe, warm breath sending shivers down your spine,  “fuck, you’re doing such a good job. Taking my cock so good.”

His hips snapped into yours at a ruthless pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin as you were filled with his thick cock. Twitching inside of you–penetrating. A rugged hand clawed at your hip, nails digging into your soft flesh as you whimpered and dug your heels into his back.

“Jayce–” you begged, “don’t stop, please, don’t stop–” 

It was a pathetic display of desire, you being a whimpering mess below the man who had a particularly bad day. Too many people on the council talking his ear off, proposing horrible ideas while throwing his own aside. Too many misgivings and annoyances that left him with enough frustration to take it out on you.

He bit and sucked at your neck as you tilted your head back, offering him the skin. He left a scattering of bruises and bite marks in his wake, all the while fucking you hard enough that you were nothing short of cock drunk. Your lips parted while gasps of pleasure escaped between each harsh snap of his hips, hands grabbing at his shoulders and pressing into his skin.

The hard scratch of your nails roused a deep grumble from his chest, and he moved to sit back on his knees, still fucking you with ease. Now, he had the perfect view–your body splayed back on the messy bed, tits bouncing with each thrust, neck covered in hickeys and legs spread wide open so he could see his cock push through your folds.

His thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit that had gone untouched for far too long, causing you to croak out. You tried to push his hand away, overstimulated, but Jayce smirked and pinned your hand to the side.

“Take it,” he demanded, taking pleasure in the way you writhed, body twisting as your release neared.

Slowly, he pulled himself out, so the tip of his cock brushed against your swollen, red cunt that was dripping juices down the curves of your ass and thighs. He grabbed at the base of his cock, holding it as he filled you at a leisurely pace that made you want to push him to the bed and ride him until you came.

“Just a little more,” his faux-gentle voice coaxed you through the intense feeling of being filled, hips stuttering as he fucked into your tight, clenching pussy as his thumb continued its attack on your clit, “you can take a little more, can’t you?”

Your eyes, half-lidded, stared up into his. A pout on your lips as you nodded–anything to please him.

“Just like that,” he purred, pushing his cock so deep you felt your tummy bulge, “so good.”

Mewling, you writhed as one rough hand grabbed your hips to keep you still, so he could fuck you with ease, the other leaving your clit to wrap around your throat and force you to choke on your moans. Grunts rumbled from his chest as his hair fell in front of his eyes, which watched yours roll into the back of your head.

It was so much–you could only take so much, and Jayce always gave it to you. Fucking you so good until you were screaming for him to cum inside, filling you with his hot cum that he loved to see spill from your pussy and finger back inside so he knew you were taking it all.

You were Jayce’s good girl.

[iveleftitwithyou]

casual | paul lahote x reader smut

NSFW | 18+ | minors DNI | word count: 2.38k

warnings: smut, dom!paul, slight angst, mention of fighting, i think that's it?

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i asked you guys if i should post this now or incorporate it into ruderal, and the result was overwhelmingly to post it now, so here it is with some plot adjustments! i've been OBSESSED with this song by chappell roan and knew i needed to make it into an imagine, although this song is probably about a woman lol. highly recommend listening to the song as you read this. this is my first time EVER writing smut so i hope its not too bad - as always, let me know what you think :)

ALSO this is in an alternate timeline where the guys are all like 21+ and so is y/n :)

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Paul’s hand lingered on your thigh as he drove the winding road back to Forks, his thumb rubbing small circles on your outer leg. the radio hummed with a song you couldn’t manage to pay attention to, instead focusing your gaze on the motion of his finger on your bare thigh. while you assumed the gesture was meant to comfort you, it did a lot more than that. you hoped that the darkness would obscure Paul’s peripheral vision enough for him to not realize you were ogling his muscular arms and unusually large hands. his veins protruded in a way that drove you crazy for some reason, and as much as you were still upset with him, you couldn’t help the rush of hormones that flooded at the sight.

Embry had made some stupid joke about you at the bonfire at Emily's that night, a common occurrence when you hung out with the pack. he didn’t mean anything by it, you joked around with each other like that all the time, but Paul had been extra sensitive for the last few weeks as he spent more hours on patrol. Victoria’s looming presence and the mystery murders happening around Washington meant the reservation needed increased protection, and the men in the pack had to step up. Embry’s comment led to a fight where the pair both phased, snarling and snapping until they both came to their senses and things went back to normal. you hated when Paul shifted because of you, even if it was just indirectly your fault like it was tonight. 

you two were meant to be casual, despite Paul having imprinted on you, as you had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and weren’t ready to commit to someone again. you’d been seeing each other casually for months, hanging out, and getting to know each other better. as much as you were hesitant to let him into your life completely, you couldn’t deny your attraction to Paul. he’d been nothing but a gentleman thus far, bringing you flowers on dates, opening doors for you, and following your boundaries to a T, terrified to mess anything up with you. of course, his physical form was unlike anything you’d ever seen - you were lucky that he preferred to hang out without a shirt on. things had gotten hot and heavy between you two a few times but hadn’t gone farther than some very intense making out. though, the way Paul’s hand touched you now was enough for you to throw those boundaries out the window; you wanted him - no, needed him.

you focused your eyes back on the road in front of you, only being able to see as far as the truck’s dim headlights illuminated. breathe in, breathe out, you reminded yourself, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach. you were unsuccessful, and it didn’t help that Paul’s hand was inching closer and closer to your hips.

suddenly, his hand snaked further inward and his grip tightened, engulfing your inner thigh. your breath hitched, and you unsuccessfully tried to mask it as a cough. you saw Paul smirk out of the corner of your eye, but he didn’t look over at you. 

you once again reminded yourself to breathe as the ache between your legs became more apparent. his hand loosened its grip and continued its journey towards your core. half of you thought about stopping him purely as punishment for fighting with Embry, but the much louder other half wouldn’t dream of it right now.

you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as his hand finally reached your jean shorts, his fingers tracing the seam that ran between your legs. the slight pressure he applied drove you absolutely crazy as you wished for more friction.

the sound that escaped your lips seemed to do something to Paul as he let out a breathy groan of his own. “alright, that’s it,” he mumbled, turning the wheel toward the side of the road. he must have known exactly where you were because he easily pulled the truck behind a set of bushes that obscured most of it from the road. any passerbys, which were few and far between at this time of night anyway, wouldn’t notice the vehicle.

almost as soon as he slammed the gear shift into park, his lips were on yours. he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. you melted into his lips, reminding yourself for the third time that night that if you didn’t start breathing, you would pass out. he gripped the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as you continued to make out. his other hand traveled down your arm, to your hip, and unbuckled the seatbelt you’d been wearing. in one swift, but slightly awkward motion, he disconnected your lips for a brief moment and grabbed each side of your hips, pulling you across the center console onto his lap. you were careful not to lean too far and hit the horn with your back as you settled onto him, silently thanking Paul for owning such a spacious truck. your knees settled on either side of his legs. 

as you sat down on his lap, you brushed his hardening length with the same seam of your shorts his hand was just on, eliciting a quiet moan from both of you. impatient, Paul once again gripped your scalp and slammed your lips together. you allowed your hands to slip underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the outline of the muscles on his bare abdomen. this feeling, combined with the warmth radiating from his bare skin, drove you insane. 

“take- it- off-” you mumbled in between kisses, tugging the hem upwards. you were unsure of where the forwardness came from, but you didn’t stop long enough to be embarrassed. 

“you don’t get to tell me what to do,” he snarked half-jokingly but obliged.

the moonlight streaming in from the windshield was just enough for you to be able to see the outline of his pecs and abs, and you really couldn’t help but stare.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, noticing your eyes widening at his physique.

you nodded, unable to form words, instead opting to smash your lips back together with all of the strength you could muster. you’d had enough of looking flustered - you wanted to take initiative.

you raised your hips again, pushing your abdomen against Paul's and lowering yourself onto his member. you rocked your hips back and forth as he moved his lips down your cheek, then your jaw, and eventually to your neck. the friction as you continued to grind against him elicited a low growl against your neck as his lips attached to your skin. you moaned embarrassingly loudly as he sucked at the delicate skin, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be sheepish. in fact, the only emotion surging through your body right now was pure desire for the god-like man leaving a series of hickeys on your neck.

“Paul, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you whined. you knew you’d regret letting him do it in the morning but right now you wanted nothing more than for him to mark you as his. you wanted to be his.

“don’t want anyone else getting any ideas. you’re all mine,” he retorted, lifting his head up to look you in the eyes. his were almost completely black with lust. “say it.” he commanded, holding your jaw tightly in his hand. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours, Paul” you panted, your hips continuing to move back and forth on Paul’s lap as you stared into his dark eyes. despite your relationship still being undefined, truer words had never been spoken.

“good girl. now shut the fuck up and get back in the passenger seat.” his harsh words did nothing to discourage you from obeying as you scrambled to sit back where you were a few minutes prior. this was a side of Paul you had only seen when he was angry: dark, commanding, dominating. usually, you would have to try to calm him down when he got like this, but right now, you were very much enjoying him telling you what to do. you already missed the warmth of his body on yours as you climbed back over to the other seat, but you instinctually knew better than to voice your complaints right now.

Paul leaned across the console, reaching his hand between your knees and under the seat to move it back as far as it would go. once he was satisfied with that, he reached across your lap and pulled the reclining handle, his other hand helping to lower the seat back slowly so you weren’t sent flying backward.

“scooch back” he ordered again, and you moved your hips backward on the seat, supporting yourself with your elbows on the very edge of the seat near the headrest.

you were confused as he opened the driver-side door and hopped out of the truck. you watched as he opened the passenger-side door, it becoming clear now what his plan was. you pulled your knees towards your chest as he climbed back in, kneeling on the floor mat in front of you. god damn, this truck was spacious, and you were incredibly grateful for that right now.

his large hands fumbled to unbutton your shorts. he pulled the zipper down and you lifted your hips, followed by your legs, so he could slide them off. not wanting to wait another second, he pulled your underwear to the side and connected his thumb to your clit. you let out a loud gasp at the sensation and he chuckled proudly, knowing how good he was making you feel. Paul rubbed small, tight circles on the sensitive nub for a few seconds before you felt a finger dip into your wet folds. a guttural moan escaped your throat as you finally got the sensation you had been waiting for since his hand had rested on your thigh earlier in the night.

he added a second finger shortly after and continued to pump in and out of your heat, his thumb continuing its circular motions on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building inside of your core, and it was almost euphoric knowing it was Paul making you feel like this.

“Paul, i’m gonna-” you moaned, getting close to the edge. “what the fuck?” he’d removed his fingers altogether upon hearing this and you were not happy about it. 

“patience, princess.” he chuckled, making eye contact with you once again as he raised his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. you were still pissed at him for teasing you like that, but the sound he made as he licked your wetness off himself almost made it worth it. almost.

“let’s take these off, shall we? or should i rip them off?” his fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear.

“don’t you dare,” the one rational brain cell you had left replied, lifting your hips for him to slide them off like he did the shorts. you liked this pair. Paul held your hips back down as he spread your legs open, leaning his torso over the seat until you could feel his breath between your legs, amplified by the wetness that had come with the teasing.

“god, you look so fucking good” he took a second to admire the sight before him before he groaned lustfully and connected his tongue to your cunt. he made quick work of finding all the right spots to hit, causing your legs to tremble and your eyes to roll back in your head. at this rate, you wouldn’t last long, but you never wanted this moment to end.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned as he continued to circle the sensitive nub with his tongue. you had never felt this connected to someone before, not any of your exes. no one had ever made you feel as good as Paul was in this moment. as he continued the motions of his tongue, you realized Paul was perfect for you in every way, including this one. it was like pre-nut clarity.

you felt the pressure building up again, somehow even stronger than last time, unable to contain your moans. “fuck, Paul, i’m gonna cum” you groaned, arching your back against the seat as Paul continued to hold your hips down harshly against it. you figured there would be bruises there tomorrow, and the thought of him marking you up even more only exacerbated your growing orgasm.

“cum for me, princess” Paul mumbled against your clit, giving you permission to let go. it only took a couple more swipes for you to come completely unglued against his mouth.

Paul gradually slowed down his motions, guiding you through your orgasm as your hips attempted to buck against his face, craving the stimulation. eventually, your brain started to function again, and the first thing you thought was that that was definitely the best orgasm you’d ever had. you couldn’t tell Paul that, though - it would boost his ego way too much, and he already had a huge one to begin with. the second thought that went through your head was that you were ready for Paul to be your boyfriend. no man could eat you out that good and get away from you.

he admired his work as you panted in front of him, a smirk of pride on his face. he loved knowing he was the one who made you feel so good. he raised himself up on his knees to hover over you, one arm resting on the seat to support himself as the other snaked behind your back to pull you to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his back, settling your face in the crook of his neck. your breaths were soon in time with each other, basking in the body heat radiating from the both of you.

you could have stayed like that forever, but after a few minutes, Paul pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. he seemed deep in thought before he smiled and opened his mouth to ask you a simple question: “is it casual now?”

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part 2 here :)

[itneverendshere]

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (five)

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: angst

part one; part two; part three; part four

Rafe could still feel the salt air on his skin, even if he was a thousand miles away from that damn island. It sticks to him, the way the Outer Banks does. Like he could never really shake it off, no matter how fast he ran or how far he got.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not for him, not for you.

The bus rattles down the highway, windows fogged up from the heat inside, condensation mixing with the dirt. It stinks—of sweat, of old clothes, of people trying to disappear. Like him. Rafe sank deeper into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, hat pulled low so no one got a good look at him.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have to do this.

They were going to ship him off like a stray dog. Get him out of sight, out of mind.

And Rafe almost did it. For you. He was this close to turning back and going along with it, just to make sure you were safe, make sure your parents didn’t take it out on you. But he knew he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let them win. Couldn’t let them pull him out of your life just like that.

The bus jerked as it hit a pothole, snapping him back to the present. There was an old guy sitting across from him, his head lolling to one side as he snored. People getting out, getting on, moving like ghosts through the aisles. No one looked twice at him, which was exactly how he needed it. He couldn’t take risks of someone recognizing him, not yet. Not while he’s deranged mother could still ship him back wherever she wanted.

You’d think he’d be scared. Rafe didn’t have a car, a plan, not even a place to sleep that night, or the next.. But scared? At this point, he was drained. Tired of running in circles, tired of people telling him who he was, and what he should be. Tired of feeling like he didn’t belong anywhere, except maybe with you.

But that was over now.

And fucking god, he hadn’t slept since. Not a minute. Not since he left. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was you. Lying there in his bed, so peaceful, so damn beautiful, tucked under his arm like you always did. You looked at him that night, just before you drifted off, and smiled like everything was fine. Like you had tomorrow. Like you had forever.

But Rafe knew. He knew it was the last night he’d hold you, the last night he’d wake up next to you. And he didn’t say a fucking word. Didn’t tell you he was leaving. Didn’t tell you that he had no choice but to go. He just watched you sleep, memorized every inch of you—how your hair fell across your face, the way your hand clutched his shirt in your sleep, the way you always stole the blankets.

He could’ve woken you up. Could’ve told you he was running, that he had to leave. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Rafe just couldn’t watch your heart break. 

He glanced out the window, watching as the big trees blurred past, the town behind him fading as the distance grew. He didn’t know where he was headed. The only thing Rafe knew is that he couldn’t go back. Police would be looking for him, no doubt. Tony would get them on his case, only for the sake of keeping the money from your parents. Your dad would find another way to keep him as far away from you as possible. He’d probably already planned to shut down any chance of you hearing from Rafe, anyway. 

And your dad? He’s probably already planning to shut down any chance of you hearing from him.

Rafe shifted in his seat, pulling his hoodie tighter around him as the bus slowed down at another random stop. Somewhere off the highway, another town that looked just like the last one. The bus groaned as the doors creaked open, and a few people shuffled on. His stomach growls. Haven’t eaten since… well, he can’t remember when. But food wasn’t the priority right now. Staying off the radar for a while was. That, and trying not to think ‘bout you.

But you were all he thought about. All he could think about was you, still wrapped up in those blankets, still asleep, still not knowing it was goodbye. It was driving him out of his mind.

The bus shuddered to a stop again, and he saw a sign out the window. Lincolnville. Some small-ass town that probably only got one diner, one bar, and a bunch of people who didn’t care about strangers. Perfect.

Rafe grabbed his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way to the front. The driver gave him a half-assed nod as he stepped off the bus, gravel crunching under his boots. The air was cooler there, crisp and clean, like a different world from the sticky humidity of Kildare.

It was also quiet. Too quiet. Just the sound of the bus pulling away, leaving him behind with nothing but the clothes on his back and a couple of crumpled bills he saved up from work, in his pocket. He glanced down the road and spotted the diner. Neon lights flickering, the kind of place that was open 24/7 but never full. His stomach growled again, and he figured he might as well get something in him.

The bell over the door jingled as Rafe stepped inside, and it was exactly what he had expected. Old-school booths, sticky linoleum floors, and a waitress who looked like she had been working here since before he was born. She eyed him as he slided into a booth by the window, but didn’t say nothin’. Just grabbed a menu from the counter and plopped it in front of him.

“Coffee?” she asked, barely looking at him.

“Yeah, sure,” Rafe muttered, running a hand through his hair, after taking the hat off. “Black.”

She shuffled off, and he stared down at the menu. It was all the same greasy food he’d seen a hundred times before, but it’d do. He ordered a burger, something cheap, and leaned back in the booth, staring out at the empty street.

He thought about you again. Wondered if you were okay, safe. If you’d figured it all out by now. Maybe you did. You were the smartest person he’d ever had the pleasure of loving. The only one really. He wondered if you were still thinking about him. 

The waitress sat the coffee down in front of him, steam rising from the cup. He took a sip, the bitterness waking him up just a little. But it didn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling.

Rafe would figure it out. He always did. And maybe, one day, when the dust settled, he’d come back for you.

Time feels different out here, like it slips through his fingers faster than Rafe can keep up. But maybe that’s just how it goes when someone is trying to leave their past behind.

He ended up in a place called Huntsville. It’s about as far from the Outer Banks as he could get without leaving the South. Small town, but big enough where people mind their own business. There’s something peaceful about that—being able to disappear into the background, no one asking too many questions. Just another face in the crowd.

He got a job working at a garage off the highway. Nothing fancy, but it pays the bills. He was lucky enough to find the place when he did.

The owner, Jerry, took him in because he had experience working on engines back home, thanks to his old boss’s obsession with boats and making him learn how to fix them. Jerry didn’t ask much, just showed Rafe what needed fixing and let him do his thing. He’s got a gruff way about him, but he’s fair. Sometimes, Rafe thinks he knows he’s running from something.

Most days, it’s just him and the smell of oil, grease, and old tools. He doesn’t mind it. It’s simple. Clear. He fix what’s broken, and it works again. Not like life. Not like the mess he left behind.

He lives in a run-down apartment above the garage, just a one-room deal with a bed, kitchen, bathroom, and a busted TV. But it his, you know? He doesn’t owe it to anyone. No one can take it from him. He makes more than enough to keep the lights on, and keeps some food in the fridge, and that’s good enough. He never needed much to survive. 

He's changed. The baby face he used to have? It’s gone now. Got a scruff of a beard that he can’t be bothered to shave most days. His hair’s longer, falls into his eyes when he’s working. Somedays he feels like shaving the whole thing off, but it doesn’t really matter. He likes it that way—keeps people from getting a good look at him. He’s leaner too, but stronger. Not the gym kind of strong, just the kind that comes from hauling parts and wrenching on cars all day. His hands are even rougher now, calloused from hours of work.

Sometimes, Rafe catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and hardly recognizes the guy staring back. It’s weird, though. He thought if he could change what he looked like, maybe he’d stop feeling like he was still stuck in the same old skin. But that shit doesn’t go away. No matter how much dirt you pile on top of it.

Every now and then, someone’ll ask where he’s from. He usually just says “down east,” keep it vague. The southern drawl gives him away, though. He can’t help it, still talks like he never left the island. He figured it didn’t really matter here—nobody was going to connect him back to Kildare. Back to you.

And that’s the part he still hasn’t shaken.

You. No matter how far he goes, no matter how many miles there are between you, you’re still there. In the back of his mind, in the dreams he has when he’s dead tired from a long day. He tried to let you go. He had to. But it’s like something inside him refuses to forget.

He tried to visit you once. Maybe a year and a half after he left.

You’d gone off to college like you always talked about, following your dreams, doing the things you said you would. He wanted to see you, just one last time, see if you were okay. He figured maybe he’d catch you on campus, just watch from a distance, y’know? See if you were still thinking about him, if you missed me like he missed you.

He didn’t tell a soul where he was going that day. He’d packed up early, threw on an old flannel and a baseball cap, and drove for hours. His heart felt like it was going to give out the whole time, like it was trying to talk him out of it, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t. All he could think about was seeing you again.

He had to know.

He pulled up to your campus, parked the truck a few blocks away where nobody’d notice him. It was a hell of a lot bigger than he imagined, all these buildings, students walking around like they had somewhere important to be. He felt out of place the second he stepped foot there. His boots scuffed against the concrete, and all he could think about was how different your world was from his now.

He wandered around for a bit, keeping his head low, his cap pulled down over his eyes. He didn’t want anyone seeing him, didn’t want you seeing him. Not yet. He wasn’t ready for that. 

Then he saw you.

You were sitting outside with some friends, books spread out on a table in front of you, the sun hitting your face just right. Your laugh carried over to him, soft and sweet, and jesus fucking christ, it was like a shot to his chest.

You looked... free. Like everything was finally falling into place for you. Like you didn’t have a single worry in the world.

He couldn’t move. Just stood there, hidden in the shadows of some tree, watching you. You were so beautiful it damn near took his breath away. You were smiling and it hit him then.

He’d been holding onto this idea of you—of who you were when you were together—but maybe that wasn’t you anymore. You’d moved on. You had a life now, one that didn’t have space for a guy like him.

You were really doing what you always said you’d do. Living your dreams. Being somebody.

He thought about what would happen if he stepped out from behind that tree, if you saw him. You’d probably cry, maybe even run up to him, throw your arms around him like old times. But then what?

He knew you. Knew how you were. You’d ask him where he’d been, what happened, and before he knew it, you’d be trying to figure out how to fix everything for him. That’s who you were. You’d sacrifice everything, drop all the shit you’d been working so hard for, just because you thought you could save him.

He couldn’t let you do that.

So he stood there, taking it all in—how happy you looked, how light you seemed without him. It hurt like hell, but a part of him was relieved too. You were okay. Better than okay.

You were doing fine without him. He could live with that.

He drove back to Huntsville that night, the road ahead of him hazy with tears he refused to let fall. By the time he got back, it was late, the town quiet, the lights in the garage flickering like they always did.

Rafe parked the truck, and just sat there.

He hadn’t seen you since. Never tried again. You were better off without him. Shit, maybe that’s what he needed to believe to keep going. Because if he didn’t, if he let himself think about how good it felt to see you again, even from a distance, he’d never be able to stay away.

And hell, maybe that’s why he’s been stuck here, never really able to shake it. Even now, when he closes his eyes at night, he thinks about what it would’ve been like if he’d stayed. If he’d found some way to fight instead of run. But he was too scared.

Scared that you’d grown to hate him for what he did. 

He tried to move on. There’ve been other women. Just passing flings, nothing serious. They come and go, and none of them stick around long enough to really matter. Not that Rafe ever let them. It’s easier that way—keeping things light, keeping things simple. But every time he looks at one of them, he’s thinking about you. Every time they smile at him, he’s thinking about your pretty grin, about the way your eyes lit up when you two were alone, just you and him, like the world didn’t exist outside of those walls.

But he knows he can’t get that back. Fuck, maybe he doesn’t deserve to. He left. He ran. And that’s on him. He didn’t tell you, didn’t give you a chance to follow him.

The morning is already sweltering by the time Rafe gets to the garage. Another scorcher, sun beating down like it’s trying to fry him alive. Sweat clung to him before he even started working, so he decided to strip his shirt off, letting the heat hit his bare skin. His shoulders are broad now, tanned from long hours out in the sun, grease smeared across his chest and arms from a morning spent elbow-deep in some busted old engine. He runs a hand through his hair—it's shorter than the day before. He’d cut it himself last night and shaved the beard too.

First time in months he’d even thought about doing it. He grabs a rag, wiping the oil from his hands as he bends against the open hood of the car.

“Rafe!”

Jerry’s voice snaps him out of it, the old man waving him over from under the hood of another car. “Need a hand with this transmission. You gonna help me with this, or you gonna stand there daydreamin’?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it,” Rafe mutters, shaking his head and bending back over the engine, grabbing a wrench from the toolbox and heading over. The work is good for him. Keeps his mind off everything, keeps his hands busy and his head clear.

Jerry grunts, sliding further under the car on the creeper. “Pass me that ratchet, will ya?”

He grabs the tool from the bench and hands it over. “Here.”

The old man doesn’t even look up. Just keeps working as he rambles away.

“Transmission’s shot to hell, but we’ll get it runnin’ again. Always do.” He grunts again as he tightened something, then mutters to himself, “Damn thing’s been makin’ more noise than my wife at a family reunion.”

Rafe can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, well, you tell her that, not me.”

Jerry’s laugh rumbles out from under the car, "Boy, if I told her that, I’d be sleeping in this garage for the rest of my life."

Rafe smirks as he watches him  work. Sweat trickles down his back, and he wipes his forehead with his arm. The summer heat’s brutal, like there’s no air left to breathe.

“Speaking of wives,” Jerry starts, sliding out from under the car, cleaning his hands on a dirty rag. “You ever think about it? You know, settlin’ down? Gettin' yourself a girl, maybe even kids someday?”

The question catches him off guard. He huffs out a breath, avoiding Jerry’s eyes as he fiddles with a wrench, trying to act like it doesn’t mean much to him. “Nah, not really.”

The older man raises an eyebrow, giving him one of those looks like he’s not buying it.

“Don’t gimme that. Every time we go down to Smitty’s for a drink, you start lookin’ all mopey. Especially after a couple beers. Start talkin’ about this girl you left behind.”

He tenses. He doesn’t like where this is going, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to talk about you. Not here. Not now. He sets the wrench down with a clink and leans against the car, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “That was a long time ago.”

“Maybe.” Jerry shrugs, grabbing a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it up. “But from the way you talk about her, she still rattlin’ around in that head of yours.”

Rafe stays quiet, staring at the oil-stained floor, the cigarette smoke swirling in the humid air. He can’t deny it. You’re always there, no matter how far he runs, no matter how hard he tries to forget.

Jerry takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slow, like he’s thinking about something “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to pry, but you ever think about goin’ back? Maybe fixin' things with her?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Nah, she’s better off without me. She’s got a whole life now. College, friends, probably some new guy too.” His voice sounds bitter, even to him, but he can’t help it. “No reason for me to go screwin’ that up.”

“Maybe. But from the way you talk, sounds like she was pretty important to you. And if she was, maybe you oughta stop runnin' and try to figure out if there’s still somethin’ there.”

It’s not that simple. It’s never that simple. He left for a reason. 

“Besides,” Jerry continues, a little grin tugging at his lips. “I ain’t never heard you talk about another girl the way you talk about her.”

Rafe shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t talk about her.”

“Oh, you do,” Jerry chuckles, flicking his cigarette butt onto the ground. “You just don’t realize it. Especially when you’re a few beers deep. Start mumblin’ about ‘the girl.’ Always ‘the girl.’ Like there ain’t no other one that ever mattered.”

He’s never meant to say anything. Those nights at the bar, when the drinks start flowing and the memories start flooding back, he tries to keep a lid on it. But sometimes, it slips out. And it’s always you.

He pushes off the car, grabbing the ratchet again, trying to ignore the mess of feelings inside him. “That’s just the way it is.”

Jerry nods, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. “Well, you do what you gotta do. Just don’t wait too long. Life’s funny like that—if you don’t grab what you want when you have the chance, sometimes it’s gone before you know it.”

He knows the old man’s right, but what the hell’s he supposed to do?

Show up at your door, after all this time, after all the silence, and what—ask you to throw it all away for him? For a guy who ran at the first sign of trouble?

They work in comfortable silence for a bit, the hum of the fans and the clang of tools filling the space. He likes it better this way.  But then the sound of tires crunching on gravel gets his attention. A car pulls up outside, engine smooth as silk. Not the usual beat-up trucks or clunkers they got in this place.

Jerry’s voice is muffled, back under the car. “Go check that out. Might be my 4 o’clock appointment.”

He stands, stepping over some scattered tools as he makes his way toward the open garage door. “Yeah, I’m on it.”

As he gets outside, the sun hits him full force again, baking his skin. He squints against the glare, but his eyes are already on the car parked just outside.

“Damn,” he whistles, low under his breath.

It's nice. Real nice. Some high-end, foreign model he didn’t see around these parts. Glossy black paint, chrome accents. Clean, like it’d just rolled off the lot. Whoever owns it has money. More than anyone he has ever known in this town.

He steps closer, his eyes running over the curves of the car. He can almost feel the engine purrin’ from where he stands. He hasn’t worked on a car like this in a long time, not since—

But before he can finish the thought, he hears a voice.

“Uh, excuse me?”

It’s soft, hesitant. 

Wait a fucking minute.

His body moves before he can think about it, and when he finally locks eyes with the person standing a few feet away, he nearly passes out on the spot.

He must be hallucinating.

It’s you.

[nottswitch]

— 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥.

summary: you had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section. however, the outcome might not be something you had originally planned.

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

cw: 18+ smut, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, gagging, mentions of nausea (no actual vomiting), slight choking, orgasm denial? ignoring?? I think that’s all, if I missed anything, let me know!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: listen. listen. this man has been in my head for the last month, and recently he decided to come into my dream? that’s just rude, so that’s what you get as revenge. this fic is also a result of my pent up frustration at life rn, so do with that what you will. also, this is my first time ever writing smut and writing for tom, so pls let me know if it’s any good and if I shall continue on the path. enjoy <3

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You had finally done it.

You had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section with him. After the whole month of begging almost every day, he agreed, albeit awfully begrudgingly, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. He told you some stuff about his late-night visits to the library from time to time, but you were always burning for more information, considering your own striving for knowledge. He always said the same thing, that he appreciated your effort, but if you could stop trying to make him abuse his Prefect’s power and possibly lose himself the position, it would make both of your lives easier. But you persevered and were finally reaping the rewards, sitting next to him at the table, with a stack of ancient books in front of you, sometime far after midnight.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how absolutely fucking irresistible he would look merely existing. The books were taken out, the first one was flipped through and now they sat on the table, long forgotten, as you just stared at Tom, almost devouring him with your eyes. To be fair, the sight of him was truly divine – his face calm and concentrated, hovering over a particular book he had been studying for the last week, distracted simply to switch to his journal and take another note. His hands resting on the table, holding a quill, scribbling down lines with his exquisite handwriting… They were sinful, those hands. You had to get ahold of at least one. His left hand was in the process of mindlessly caressing the corner of the book with his middle finger when your hand slowly creeped towards it. You lightly brushed your fingertips along the outer part of his hand. No reaction. You started drawing circles along the whole area, skimming along his wrist and thumb. Nothing. You decided to go further and began intertwining your fingers together.

Finally. A sigh.

And he didn’t even look. His hand grabbed yours and put it away, back on the table. And nothing, absolutely nothing changed about the focused expression painted on his face. That was really annoying, but also… hot, in a way? Almost as if he was playing hard to get. You were already aroused just by looking at him, but his silent rejection made you nearly desperate. Your panties were pretty much soaked, and he, quite literally, barely lifted a finger.

Before you could gain control over your hand, it moved dangerously close to his thigh. You put your hand a little above his knee and gradually advanced higher and higher up his leg. Only when you were caressing his inner thigh did you hear another sigh. Tom raised an eyebrow and turned his head a couple centimeters in your direction, his eyes still on the book.

“What?” he asked, the tone of his voice only ever so slightly irritated. His composure remained intact. He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that you were so close to grabbing him through his pants.

“You look so handsome like that, you know?”

You made your best attempt to lace your voice with saccharine seduction. Your hand kept stroking his inner thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke. The only thing he did was thoughtlessly nod, as if he forgot about your existence immediately after asking the question.

You started getting frustrated and even more turned on. You moved your chair closer to his and began caressing his shoulder, brushing your fingers along his neck when they reached it. You slowly moved down to his back and arm, your nails applying some pressure on his body so that he could feel them scratching his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. It had always been one of the rare things to grab his attention, and it worked this time as well. He sighed, closed the book with his finger between the right pages and turned his head to you. His expression was that of mild annoyance, his eyebrow raised again.

“What exactly was the reason you’d been begging me to bring you here? Would you care to remind me?”

You lowered your gaze and your hand on his shoulder stopped, but just for a second. Then you continued, thinking that there was no return at that point and at least you had a chance, now that his attention was on you.

“Knowledge,” you admitted.

“And what kind of knowledge are you trying to soak up right now?”

His eyes flicked towards your hand still massaging his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your chair at the mention of the word “soak”. But it was time for drastic measures. You stood up to crouch next to him, so that your mouth was right at the same level as his ear. Your hand moved to his inner thigh again, traveling up to his crotch and back. You felt him harden under your touch and the mere fact brought you immense amounts of satisfaction.

“Come on, Tom, love, we both know what I want right now,” you started whispering, your lips nearly touching his ear. “You. I want you. On the table, on the floor, against the wall, it literally doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me right here, right now, I will die.”

The look on his face didn’t change in the slightest when he grabbed your throat with his right hand and guided you from his left to his front, tightly squeezed between him and the desk. You stayed in your half-crouched position, trying your hardest not to tremble in the knees. The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted ever so slightly while he silently studied your face and body. His grip on your throat tightened when he lifted up his hand, causing you to straighten your half-bent legs. He shot a commanding look at his lap and, guided by his hand, you climbed there, sitting down and sighing as you could finally relax your already aching knees. But your state of relaxation didn’t last, as he abruptly spread his legs, causing yours to shoot open as well and your ass to be left hanging in the air. In order not to fall to the ground, you had to lean back on the desk, propping your front upwards, towards him.

His hand moved from your throat to the hem of your skirt. With quick and methodic movements Tom rolled it up, tucking it behind the top part of the skirt, and spread your thighs even further with a firm press of his thumbs. You felt a heatwave of embarrassment wash over you as he evaluated the state of your panties, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. A spot of wetness was wonderfully visible and on display. His eyebrow went up and down as he looked up at you, brushing his thumb in a feather-like touch along the still covered surface of your cunt. You threw your head back, partly because you didn’t want to meet his eyes, partly because your own eyes rolled to the point you couldn’t see in front of you and you could barely hold in a moan as myriads of goosebumps spread throughout your body just from this simple touch.

“Look at me.”

Tom clearly didn’t appreciate the lack of eye contact. You clenched your jaw and looked back, met by the sheer intensity of his stare. The stare that had all the power in the world to melt you into a puddle at any given moment. He brushed his other thumb over the same place again, watching your face carefully as you tried to keep your composure. Didn’t help. Your bit your bottom lip, but a sound escaped you nonetheless. Tom’s smirk widened.

“Let’s see,” he quietly muttered, pulling your panties to the side. Your cunt was already slicked and throbbing, which was even more embarrassing, because he looked like he was an inspector evaluating the goods. The smirk faded from his lips as his finger rubbed against your folds, barely spreading them apart and not reaching the clit to provide the much-needed sensation. You couldn’t help throwing your head back again, almost drawing blood from the pressure of your teeth against your bottom lip.

“I said. Look. At. Me.”

Tom uttered every word in a clear, emotionless voice, but it was the very thing that meant trouble. You looked back and the intensity of his stare only grew exponentially. He reached your face with his hand and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, squeezing them, so that your lips formed into some sort of a pout.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Keep looking until I say you can stop.”

You quickly nodded, intimidated by his frigid dominance. His hand went back to your cunt. He slid his fingers deeper between the folds, lightly brushing against the clit. Your hips jerked up as they tried to follow the path of his fingers, but his other hand held you firmly in place, not allowing a single extra bit of pleasure. He slid them back once more and then the middle one slipped inside you, up to the very base. A jolt of pleasure shook your body, as strong as the feeling of disappointment when he quickly removed the digit. You tried to whine but another look from him quickly shut you up. Tom raised his hand, rubbed his index, middle finger and thumb together and then separated; a sticky string of your wetness was a connection between them and a blatant manifestation of your arousal.

“Soaked. Just like I thought.”

The slightest hint of a smirk returned to his lips as his fingers reached your mouth.

“Open.”

Each of his words was stern, not leaving room for any disobedience. You opened your mouth and Tom pushed two fingers inside, pressing at the entrance of your throat and instantly making you gag. He kept his fingers there for a moment while you clutched the desk behind you to stop your body from shaking as you kept gagging, but not daring to push his hand away. A couple seconds later, when he saw you were on the verge of giving up, his fingers slowly traveled back out of your mouth. You tightly wrapped your lips around them and sucked your slick off, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted you to do. After leaving your mouth his fingers cupped your chin, as his thumb glided over your lips, covering them with the rest of your wetness.

“Now,” Tom leaned back on the chair, looking you up and down, his voice suddenly smooth and enticing, but his gaze still intense, “I see you are rather bored here with me, doll.”

When he said the word, you knew that the next part wouldn’t be so much for your pleasure as it would be completely for his. It wasn’t a meaningless pet-name for him, no, it held value. It meant that you would be treated exactly like a doll: mindless and limp. He saw your eyes widen at “doll” and a faint smirk was on his lips again: he was aware of the connotation and so were you.

“And to save you the trouble of a wandering mind, I am pleased to announce that I have a much better use for a doll like you.”

He waited to continue for a minute, letting you absorb the information and your thoughts fill with speculations. His hand brushed a stray hair from your forehead, him seeming just like a caring boyfriend for a moment.

“Kneel.”

You slowly stood up from his lap, feeling your stretched out limbs relax and almost fail to hold you up, and lowered down to your knees in front of him. From this point of view, he was even more attractive, compellingly so; it was worth it standing on your knees on the cold stone floor of the Restricted Section just for this sight alone. He slowly started unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, almost as if he wanted you to enjoy the show. You drank up every single movement of his slender fingers as he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to bounce right out, against his lower abdomen.

“You like what you see, doll?”

You fervently nodded, your mouth salivating just at the thought of being able to suck him off right then. He saw the fire in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is no ordinary pleasure that I want from you now, doll.”

He beckoned you to move closer and you eagerly did, your face just mere centimeters away from his length. Your breath quickened as you thought about the implication of “no ordinary pleasure”.

“Now, give me your hands, doll.”

You lifted your hands and he wrapped his belt around them, tightening it to the point when it started to hurt and you knew it would leave deep marks on your wrists. Then, you tried to position yourself in a way that would allow your hands to support you, but you could only reach the floor with your fingertips.

Tom ran his fingers through your hair, in a touch almost gentle and soothing, and then suddenly yanked you up and forward, straight onto his cock, thrusting his whole length into your mouth, the tip reaching the very back of your throat. You lifted on your knees and violently gagged at the feeling, your hands inadvertently flying up, trying to push back, but the belt didn’t let you make any substantial impact. He held you firmly in place while you kept quivering and making gagging sounds, him clearly enjoying seeing you in this state. Slowly, you adjusted to his cock filling your whole mouth and your body went weak as you lowered back down, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up with just your eyes, not being able to move your head; it hurt too much, so you lowered your gaze, the only thing in front of you being his lower abdomen. As you tried to shift in your place, you felt a whiff of the chilly library air against your soaked panties and the sensation drove you nearly through the roof.

“Now, doll, you have to stay like that while I keep going with my work. A fair warning out of the goodness of my heart: it might take a while.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this could continue for another hour or two. Your head was held back by the edge of the desk cutting into your nape, so you weren’t able to move at all. You were completely at his mercy, he could do literally whatever he wanted, but he chose not to do anything. As soon as he let go of your hair, he went straight back to his book, taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Time went by painfully slowly. The constant feeling of him in your mouth and throat overwhelmed you to the point when you started to twitch at times, shifting your weight to get any semblance of friction against your aching core. The position you were in didn’t allow that at all, your head being stuck firmly between the desk and his body. The most irritating thing about the whole ordeal was the fact that Tom ignored you completely, fully absorbed in whatever kind of studying he was doing. You tried to get his attention a couple of times by producing incoherent sounds and trying to tighten your lips around him, but you quickly understood that there was no use. You tried counting seconds and minutes, but your mind gave up when you reached fifteen. The only things you could think about were his cock and getting something, any type of pressure on your clit. Your wetness soaked through your panties and, you were pretty sure, was dripping down your thighs, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you finally heard the book shut. You almost shuddered at the sound, your pupils dilating and your breath accelerating, probably close to the speed of light. Tom leaned on the back of the chair, looking down at you with one of his smirks of the devil himself. His hand ruffled your hair, pulling at it to slightly lift your head up and shove it back down, as if he was trying to gauge if you were still alive. At the sound of your muffled groan he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“The doll has some life left in her. What a pleasant surprise. You look perfectly splendid like that.”

You groaned again, the sound coming from somewhere inside your chest. You desperately wanted to look up, but your head was still pressed in its place. Tom scoffed, messing with your hair once again.

“The time has come for some more… customary activities of ours, don’t you think?”

As if you could answer. You tried to nod, but the edge of the desk only further cut into your nape, making you wince in pain.

“The doll seems to agree. Pleasure.”

He moved the chair a bit further from the desk. With more space you could finally properly breath, so you shifted in your place, your stiff legs aching as you had to follow the movement of the chair. Tom’s hand gripped your hair and pulled you upwards, releasing almost the entirety of his length from your mouth apart from the tip. The sudden emptiness made your throat clench and you felt nausea building up rapidly, although the feeling had no time to develop as you were quickly shoved down again, your nose nearly crashing against his body. Tears gathered in your eyes sprayed all over, your lips stretched even more than they already were and you prayed the corners of your mouth wouldn’t crack. The tension building up in your core was begging to be released as you were being thrusted up and down again and again, the tip of his cock stroking the back of your throat again and again, causing you to produce the most sinful gagging sounds known to man. You tried to balance on your tied up hands, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the floor as your whole body moved in unison with your head. Tom barely made any sound, a heavy breath occasionally escaping his lips. He threw his head back, his eyes closed, while you took him whole at the mercy of his hand.

At last, you felt his thrusts speeding up, sensing his release. After a couple of especially violent ones he let out a quiet groan, and you felt his hot semen filling you up and spilling down your throat as he pressed you all the way down. Your breaths were heavy but barely audible, his cock still stuffing your mouth to the brim. Tom heaved a deep sigh as you felt his grip on your hair loosening. You didn’t dare to move until he pulled you up, lifting your head with his finger on your chin, looking straight into your eyes. Your vision was blurry from tears, more of them running down your face and dripping down to the floor as they slid off your jawline. Your lips were swollen and you couldn’t properly close your mouth yet, panting in quick and dry breaths. Tom smirked, taking in the sight of your utter destruction.

“A broken doll. Truly a sight to behold.”

He leaned back on the chair again, pulling up his underwear and zipping the pants. Then, he bent down, taking your hands gently in his and undoing the belt. His fingers made their way across the deep red marks on your wrists, caressing them with utmost attention.

“You have been a very good doll for me tonight. Now, what do you say to spending the night in my dorm? The doll has to receive her rightful reward.”

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm half delirious from lack of sleep.

And I love you guys.

So please accept these smutty headcanons about what that mouth do as a token of my appreciation.

This is a direct result of an anon ask reminding me about a previous mini-headcanon thing and me being completely unable to get it out of my head.

And maybe also a little because of that little tongue thing that Peter keeps doing like sir if you do not put that back in your mouth this fcking instant—

Going Down

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Buggy, Crocodile, Mihawk (OPLA or anime) x AFAB!Reader,

Absolutely shamless NSFW smut

♫♬Me and the Devil— The Fratellis♬♫

Call my name when the line goes dead

I'll be fire, I'll be rain, I'll be joy I'll be dread

Zoro

Goes down on you like he's been lost in a desert and you're the only source of water he's seen in weeks.

A little clumsy, but more than makes up for it in enthusiasm.

Genuinely wants to make you feel good but gets so turned on by your moaning that it's hard to focus.

His hands wrapped so tight around your hips that its almost painful, his breathing just as shallow and uneven as yours.

Letting out a little growl of satisfaction as he brings you over the edge, so hard from building you up that he has to have you right now.

Sanji

Oh so slow and tender, worshiping every last inch of your folds.

Brushing soft little kisses against your thighs and outer lips, caressing your stomach, lacing his fingers with yours.

Massaging your hips and your thighs and slowly as his tongue brushes back and forth across your clit, letting out quiet moans to match yours.

Slowly taking you to the pinnacle of physical pleasure, making sure you enjoy every last segond of the slow build-up.

Expelling a slow sigh when you cum, moving his tongue in rhythm with your throbbing clit, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible.

Shanks

Complete and utter tease, master of edging.

Pulling back and smirking at you every time you get close, commenting about how adorable you are when you're oh so desperate.

Revelling in how you push your hips up and tug at his hair, how you whine and beg for more.

Ever so lightly flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit when you're right at the edge and chuckling at how you whine and writhe under him.

Laying his cheek against your thigh, gazing up to watch you struggle to breathe as he slowly circles a finger around your entrance.

Giving a low purr and smirking when he finally lets you slip over the edge, rubbing his hand across your breasts, squeezing your ass...

...But not letting up, continuing with the same slow and teasing pace after your orgasm until you're building toward another. And another.

Won't stop unless you outright tell him to, honestly; he's having too much fun making you squirm.

Buggy

Kinky, kinky. No point in having detatchable limbs if you don't know how to use them.

Hands all over you the whole time, smacking your ass, squeezing your tits together, finger-fucking you while he worships you with his mouth.

Might even detatch his dick and let you use it as a toy, if he's feeling generous.

Pulling back every so often to rub your clit and talk dirty, to tell you in detail what he plans on doing to you.

But making damned sure to lower his head back down before you cum so he can feel your clit throbbing in his mouth and your pussy clench around his tongue.

Sir Crocodile

Doesn't waste a single second teasing you, just dives right in, intent on making you scream.

His hook wrapped around your waist, sucking your clit into his mouth, pushing a finger inside to rub against your g-spot.

Pulling back now and then to tell you what a good little slut you are, but never quite long enough to let you catch your breath.

Feeling you squirm in his grip, hearing you moan and cry out his name over and over, is really the ultimate ego trip.

It's doubtful he's going to stop after getting you off once unless he's incredibly wound up. It's far too fun having you at his mercy.

Mihawk

Full, unrelenting focus, turning you into an absolute mess within seconds.

Kowing exactly what you like, exactly what makes your eyes roll back and your soul leave your body.

Keeping his gaze turned up to yours the entire time, keeping a steady and unrelenting pace.

Holding your hips down with one to keep you from grinding against his tongue, controlling every moment of your building pleasure.

Bringing his other hand up to brush across your nipples, to grasp your hair and make sure you can't look away for even a moment.

Making sure you're incapable of forming a single coherent word or phrase or thought, that you're unable to do more than moan incoherently or stammer out his name, that you're barely even able to breathe.

May not stop until you outright pass out from oxygen deprivation, and he's definitely going to tease you about it afterwards if you do.

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

2.5 NSFW ONESHOT ♤ KINKTOBER 2023

RED RIDING HOOD!READER X WEREWOLF!SANEMI

This is an absolutely filthy nasty smut scene that I have decided to cut from Part III of In the Netherwood. Part III is going to be long, so this is ultimately for the best, but I shan’t deprive you heathens of your monsterfucking tendencies.

Part III is still in the works but will feature Red Riding Hood!Reader fucking Sanemi in his full Wolf form.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • knotting/mating • breeding • milking • Reader begs Sanemi to knock her up • possessive Sanemi • heat/discussions of heat

“Genya, fuck off,” Sanemi snarled, his arm tightening possessively around your waist.

You whipped your head toward the Huntsman, ready to give him the good verbal lashing he apparently needed, but the young boy smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, Aniki,” Genya rubbed the back of his neck. “I forgot.” 

“Don’t apologize,” you chastised the boy, gently. “It isn’t your fault your brother has lost all sense of decorum.” 

Genya flushed. “N-no, it’s not,” he stammered in agreement. “B-but you see — well, when a wolf takes a mate…”

The younger boy’s blush deepened to a near purple, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s as he struggled to find the appropriate words.

Growling slightly under his breath, though more so in annoyance, Sanemi shifted himself behind you, pressing his hips against your backside. You felt his length, hard and throbbing against his breeches, as it dug sharply into your backside. 

Your mate’s silent explanation made your cheeks warm, and you wondered whether your blush matched Genya’s.  “Oh.” you managed to choke. 

Genya rocked awkwardly back on his feet. “I’ll come by later, Aniki,” he croaked. “Y/N,” he added, nodding at you though still unable to meet your eyes. 

The boy turned sharply on his heel, half-stumbling out of the small cottage in his haste to get away, proverbial tail tucked between his legs. 

The door had barely banged shut before Sanemi had you pressed up against the wall, hauling you up so that your legs had to wrap around his waist. 

“I shall explain in full later,” he promised, fingers ripping the cord out of your corset so he could yank it down along with your blouse, exposing your breasts. “But right now I need to claim.” 

“S-sure,” you stuttered, gasping as the Huntsman’s hot mouth closed around one of your mounds, his hands working to shove your skirts out of the way. One arm remained under your backside, keeping you propped up against the wall, as the other moved to shove his breeches just far enough down his hips to free his cock, already standing taut and ready to fill you. 

Sanemi did not warn you before plunging his rigid length deep into your walls, though you were surprised at how readily you took him, your cunt sucking him right in as though it too, had been waiting for him to remind you exactly whose mark you bore on your skin.

The Wolf nudged your head to the side with his nose so he could bury his face into the side of your neck, inhaling deeply. With a low growl, his tongue flicked out and caressed the crescent-shaped mating mark at the juncture between your neck and shoulder before he nipped lightly at your skin. 

“Mine,” he snarled. “You’re mine.” 

Despite being pinned against the wall by his hips, you managed to spread your thighs wider, opening yourself up further to allow Sanemi to pound into you without restraint, but he pulled away. 

You cried out at the sudden, cold emptiness you felt as Sanemi pulled out of you, leaving your core wildly clenching around nothing. The Huntsman soothed you with hot kisses against your throat, his thumbs rubbing circles into your outer thighs as he pivoted you away from the wall. 

Sanemi crossed the small room easily, making quick work in removing you of your skirts and corset. Once the last of your attire had been discarded upon the floor, he tossed you onto the delightfully plush bed standing against the middle of the wall, his gaze locked on the way your breasts bounced as you settled. 

Eyes lifting back to meet yours, he wrapped one hand around the base of his engorged length and pumped, the other shoving the waistband of his breeches down his hips and legs until he could kick them off. 

“On your knees.”

With excitement fluttering in your stomach, you complied, rolling to your front and balancing your weight on your spread knees, holding your rear high up in the air.

You looked over your shoulder back at your mate, eyes too wide and too innocent as you wiggled your hips at him in invitation. 

Despite having only been intimate with him for a few days, you already had a good read on what made the Wolf tick. 

And the best way was this — to beg for more while offering yourself up in total submission.

He may have been the Wolf, but you held his leash; and you knew exactly how to pull it to get what you wanted. Right then, you wanted him to fuck and fill you until your brain went numb, and your lower belly bloated with him — just like it had in the cave den. 

“Beautiful,” Sanemi crouched behind you, breathing in the scent of your musk. You moaned loudly as the Wolf’s tongue flattened against your leaking folds and dragged up, gathering your pleasure into his mouth.

His hands ran down the backs of your thighs, nails dragging lightly along your skin. “As much as I love when you hold yourself up high for me, I think I want try something new.” He purred, running his hot mouth up your spine. “Do you think you can handle that, Lamb?” 

You ground your hips against the feathery bed, nodding furiously. “Yes, Wolf. I can take whatever it is you give me.” 

“Sweet little thing,” Sanemi praised, his hands easing you flat against his — your — bed. “You’re such a good Lamb, always eager to take care of her Wolf.”

“Her mate,” you corrected, moaning into the blanket. 

Sanemi’s hands smoothed up the inside of your thighs as he pushed your legs wider apart, guiding them into a wide “v” spread across the bed.

 “My apologies, Lamb,” his fingers wound in your hair and pulled your head back, the Huntsman leaning over top you to graze his lips against yours, your neck straining and your throat utterly exposed. “You take such good care of your mate.” 

Sanemi released the hold he had on your hair, allowing your head to fall forward against the blankets. 

You felt him press his engorged tip flush against your entrance, the two of you hissing at the friction sparked as his member met your waiting, sensitive flesh. He nudged forward slightly, just past that first ring of tight muscle before stilling so he could get himself into position. 

Your legs were spread wide, but Sanemi stretched his even further, placing one knee on either side of yours where they laid flat against the bed. One muscled arm wound around your front, resting across your collarbone until his hand could grip your shoulder and the other went to wrap around your middle, his fingers digging slightly into the sensitive skin of your waist.

His torso was pressed flush against your back, every hard groove of his muscles pressing into each sensitive spot along your spine. With his teeth against your ear, Sanemi then allowed his body to relax, his weight pushing his cock in and in until the base of his groin was flat against the soft curve of your backside. 

“It is my duty as your Mate to make sure  I fill you up with pups,” his breath was hot against your ear and it made you shiver, the tremors cascading down your body going right to where you were joined, making the Wolf at your back rumble. 

“And that is a duty I take very seriously, little Lamb.”

“This position,” he grunted, rolling harder into you for emphasis. “Is said to ensure my seed takes in your womb.”

You moaned as Sanemi began to roll steadily into you, his cock so heavy and thick, you thought you could feel him in your chest. “Without your knot?” 

Sanemi laughed quietly, the darkness of the sound making you even wetter between your legs. “I don’t need my knot to fuck you full of my pups, Lamb.” He gave deep push of his hips, his cock prodding the spot inside you that made your toes curl and your mind blank. “I can fulfill that duty any time I want.”

Sanemi groaned, loudly. “But feel.”

He rolled his cock even harder and faster into you, and between the sticky taps of his heavy, full balls against your clit, you could feel the tell-tale shape of that hardened gland beginning to swell at Sanemi’s base. 

You gasped. “B-but — oh — I thought!” You choked off with another breathy sigh as the force of Sanemi’s movements made your body buck hard into the bed, the slightly stiff fabric of the quilts chafing against your peaked nipples and giving you much needed stimulation. 

Sanemi’s breath was ragged, little snarls and growls tearing from his throat in time with his deep thrusts. “Apparently my heat is not over,” he said thickly, arms tightening around you. “Not until I’ve bred you full.”

Your eyes rolled back at the term “bred.” Once upon a time, you would have balked at the idea of being treated as little more than breeding stock; you would have rebelled against it, fought it tooth and nail, even if it meant spending your life alone.

But the Wolf promising to fuck his own litter into you was different; he was your mate. You’d claimed him as much as he’d claimed you. 

And you loved him. 

And with that truth echoing in your mind, you lifted your face from where you’d buried it into the blankets. 

“Do it, Wolf — breed me!” You cried, hand flying behind you to tangle in his hair, desperate to find purchase in anything that could tether you to reality the faster your mate brought you closer to heaven. “Give me your children — your pups!“ 

A cross between a growl and a groan tore free from Sanemi’s throat, his arms almost painfully tight around you as his hips rolled faster and harder against you, his balls slapping lewdly against your soaked cunt. 

Your thighs burned as Sanemi’s weight spread them even further apart as he bore down hard against your back. The fat of your ass jiggled with every lurid, deep roll of his hips, his pace increasing as his climax drew closer. 

You thought back to the night you’d spent in the cave den; how it felt to feel him unload rope after rope of his hot, thick seed deep into your womb, so much so that it couldn’t help but drip down your thighs.

You needed it; more than anything, you needed to feel his claim over you, hot and sweet and him. 

“Sanemi, please!” You thought you might die if he didn’t fill you up, if he didn’t push that aching knot inside you to lock his hot, rich seed deep within your womb. 

You felt his teeth sink into the side of your neck, his responding growl deep and vicious. 

Your cunt seized around him with a force that made you scream as you approached the precipice of your release. “My love — please!” 

Sanemi’s eyes flew open as the words my love left your mouth, and with a snarl, he pressed you deeper against the mattress, fucking into you so hard, your breath choked out in broken, strangled gasps.

Two sharp, bruising thrusts later and the Huntsman erupted. 

With a roar, Sanemi shoved his cock as deep as it could go, the hardened member pulsing as you felt the first rush of his pleasure begin to fill you.

Your eyes rolled back into your head and your walls clenched down, keeping him still as your own climax slammed into you with dizzying force. Some choked, broken sound stuttered its way out of your throat, the corners of your mouth turning up in pleasured delirium, satisfied to finally be given what you’d so desperately begged for. 

Still lost in the rolling waves of your euphoria, you felt the hard lump of Sanemi’s knot push against your entrance. Your cunt resisted at first, too busy gripping Sanemi’s twitching length like a vice, but he persisted. With a grunt, Sanemi nudged the knot in and sighed as your walls finally gave way, allowing him to lock his cock — and the seed still spilling from him — deep inside you. 

Your hand blindly felt behind you for him, patting its way to his hip. Weakly, you pulled him harder against you, as though every ounce of his weight was not already seared into your skin as he pressed you deeper into the mattress. 

It still wasn’t close enough; you didn’t think it ever would be. 

The heavy, ragged sounds of your mutual breathing was interrupted only by the occasional soft moan from the wolf behind you as his seed continued to fill you. Eventually, your thighs began to tremble from the strain of having been spread wide, but the way Sanemi was positioned over you, knees on either side of yours, his shins pressed against the back of your calves, kept you from being able to close them. 

You whimpered into the bed, legs vibrating from the strain. 

“I know, sweetling,” Sanemi said roughly. “Just hold on a little longer.” 

A low whine escaped from your throat. “Sanemi — I can’t-“

The Wolf rolled his hips against your backside and you squealed at the slight burn of his knot tugging against your walls.

“Yes you can, Lamb,” his head dipped into the crook of your shoulder to pepper the side of your neck with wet kisses. “You can take it. You’re my mate — my girl.” 

His praise sent a flurry of butterflies rippling through your stomach and made the walls of your spent cunt flutter and clench around his aching length once more.

“Fuck,” Sanemi groaned against your skin, dragging his tongue over the back of your neck before nipping at you. “Fuck, don’t do that Lamb — not unless you want me to keep going.”

Your hips involuntarily twitched as your muscles tightened around him once more. “I can’t — ngh — help it,” you couldn’t stop the whine in your tone, but nor could you be embarrassed by it. “F-feels too good.”

Your muscles continued to spasm around the Wolf’s pulsating length, and the coil in your gut built fast.

“Y/N—“ came Sanemi’s warning growl, but it was too late.

“I-I’m!” It was all you could choke out at your cunt seized around him like a vice. Your scream of pleasure was muffled by the blanket you sucked into your mouth to quiet yourself. Your third climax of the night rocked through you with earth-shattering strength, and a gush of fluid surged forth from between your legs, soaking your groin and the bed below you. 

Behind you, Sanemi whimpered, the sound strangled and uncharacteristically high. Whether it was intentional or purely reflexive, Sanemi began canting his hips against your rear, his dwindling knot still causing your muscles to stretch and pull. 

Your muscles continued to clench and flutter around Sanemi’s length, causing you to reach yet another climax before you were hissing at the over-sensitivity between your legs. After a long while, the knot locking Sanemi within your molten heat finally eased, and the Huntsman withdrew, exhaling through clenched teeth.

The weight at your back disappeared, and you fell into the mattress, your limbs unable to hold you upright any longer. 

For a moment, there was no sound but your mutual ragged panting, as both of you sought to catch your breath. Before long, a warm, calloused hand gripped your hip and gingerly flipped you over. 

“You,” Sanemi accused shakily, though any threat in his tone was undercut by the softness of his expression. “You are an utter menace, Lamb.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

out for a run

words: 900

warnings: established relationship, catcalling, physical violence!!!, description of blood, reader kinda crazy as well as rafe lolz

“you ready?” you ask rafe as you finish tying your tennis shoes before making sure your watch is strapped tight to your wrist.

“yup.” rafe says, still leaned up against a wall, not so subtly checking you out as his eyes look up and down your body, dressed in tight fitting leggings and a sports bra.

“earth to rafe.” you wave your hand past his face as you head towards the door, taking a final sip of water before you start your run.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe jogs to catch up to you, again admiring your body, this time from the back.

you go through a quick stretching routine once outside, warming up your muscles. you walk to the end of the driveway, occasionally swinging your knee back to kick your butt and warm up your thighs. 

rafe is right by your side as you start to run, keeping pace with you, even though he could probably go faster. rafe insists it's the perfect pace for him, but you know it's just because he wants to stay by your side.

you fall into a comfortable silence. you used to like listening to music during runs, but you've come to enjoy just the sounds of the outer banks, whether it be the distant waves or dogs barking, even the cars driving past provide you a bit of interest as your feet pound against the pavement.

a car horn suddenly beeps out, causing you to look over, making sure it's not directed at you.

you twist your face in disgust when you see a guy smirking at you out the window. he even has the audacity to roll down his window and shout. “nice tits!”

rafe doesn't hesitate, turning up his pace as he sprints onto the road after the truck, but it tears away, blowing through a stop sign.

“it's okay rafe.” you reach your hands to his shoulders, legs burning slightly from the sudden stop as he rejoins you on the sidewalk. “he's just some asshole, okay?”

“im gonna find out who he is and fucking kill him.” rafe grunts out, eyes staring into the distance like his glare can cause the man pain.

“alright, you gotta run your anger out.” you shove slightly on rafes shoulders. “go faster, it's okay. just circle back to meet me.”

rafe looks at you, then back in the direction of the truck, wondering how far it's gone. hopefully it's parked somewhere close and rafe can confront the asshole.

“call me if anything happens.” rafe says, planning to just run up and look down the streets of a couple blocks before rushing back to you.

“of course.” you give him another gentle shove, and rafe takes off.

you give your legs a little stretch, shins hurting slightly before starting to jog again, heading the direction rafe went. you always switch up your route, but it doesn't matter because you're always together. you figure the best thing to do is just stay going straight.

you get back into your groove quickly, listening to the birds chirping, the wind rustling through the trees, only for it to be interrupted by a quiet thud of skin hitting skin.

you look down the side street, eyes widening when you see the same truck as earlier, the driver now splayed out on the grass, rafe standing over him. 

you turn quickly in his direction, pushing your legs as hard as they can go as rafe kneels down over the guy, fisting one hand in his shirt and pulling his other arm back to punch him again.

“okay, rafe.” you grab his elbow when he raises it up to swing again. “i think he's learned his lesson.” the guys face has turned black and blue, blood dripping from his nose onto the green grass.

rafe stands, turning to place his hands on your shoulders, blocking your view of the creep with his wide chest. “come on baby, you don’t gotta see this.”

rafe turns to spit at him before leading you back in the direction you came when the guy has the gall to speak again. 

“your ass is as nice as your tits.” the words are slurred, rafe clearly did a number on him.

rafe turns, clearly he hasn't beat him well enough if he can't shut up even when he's lying on the ground bleeding, when you stop him with a hand on the bicep.

“i got this.” you say, turning towards the man, looking down at him with disgust, sorry you have to dirty your favorite pair of running shoes with his filth as you swing your leg forward, connecting your toe with his side.

he lets out a loud groan, twisting to cover his side, but it just gives you a better angle as you muster everything you learned from playing soccer in elementary school and kick again, directly in his stomach.

“you need to learn how to treat women with respect.” you spit onto his face as well, landing on the opposite cheek that rafes had.

“you're lucky i don't let my boyfriend at you again.” the guy is sobbing into the ground now, but you're not satisfied, giving him a kick right in his crotch to finish off your point.

“come on, rafe.” you begin to walk away as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“baby-” rafe hurries after you as you start to jog, turning back down the street like nothing happened.

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[throwsahammer]

Okay, wait, this "Blood Atonement" thing is the belief that... If I understand it correctly, Christ's sacrifice did not fully eliminate the need for sacrifice to atone for sin, and certain sins required the blood sacrifice (Voluntary or otherwise) of the sinner to achieve salvation?

As an atheist with protestant roots this strikes me as shockingly heretical in its departure from ordinary Christian doctrine.

I'm not sure I entirely have a question other than "Am I understanding correctly" and I guess "What the heck?"

It's a bit more complicated than that, but you've got the basic idea.

There are two foundational concepts that you need to understand in order to fit blood atonement into Mormonism properly, and those are Perdition and Having Your Calling and Election Made Sure (I'm going to abbreviate the second one).

Perdition is the condition of being sentenced to outer darkness, which sounds pretty straightforward. It's basically just the standard protestant idea of hell. However, unlike protestantism's concept of Jesus's atonement being infinite in the sense that it's open for anyone to opt into, Mormonism believes that the atonement is infinite in that it guarantees salvation for everyone regardless of personal decision. The whole concept of a tiered heaven can, therefore, be based entirely on personal merit and the completion of specific ordinances, as it's ostensibly built around the idea of growing into the sort of person who would actually be comfortable living there, and not about whether or not Jesus paid the price of admission for that specific individual.

This creates a real-world problem, though: the threat of damnation is an indispensable tool in the arsenal of a religious leader who wants to coerce people into taking certain actions, and Joseph Smith is at this point in history desperately in need of a stick with which to threaten people into compliance. So he develops a new kind of threat based on the figure of Cain. The basic idea of perdition is that there are certain acts that alter their perpetrators on a metaphysical level to the point where they can't exist within god's presence even a little bit, and will not be able to live in any kingdom of glory post resurrection. (There's a whole tangent about mormon cosmology I'm not going into here, but the short version is that the kingdoms of glory operate via divine Reaganomics, and terrestrial and telestial glory are the result of god's celestial glory trickling down).

So, the two sins that damn one's soul and body to perdition are "the shedding of innocent blood" and "denying the holy ghost." The first one is mostly employed rhetorically as a point of comparison and serves to underscore how serious the second one is. What exactly constituted a sufficient degree of apostasy to qualify as perdition-worthy was left intentionally vague by Joseph in order to enable him to threaten people from a position of unquestionable authority. It's all pretty standard new religious movement stuff so far.

But now you run into a different problem: if murder is a potentially soul-threatening act, then you're going to need to waste time manufacturing a spiritual casus belli against anyone you need removed, and nobody who is trying to build a kingdom for themselves has time for that. Enter the second piece of the puzzle: HYCaEMS. Eventually known as the Second Anointing, HYaCEMS is the ultimate theological get-out-of-jail-free card, where the prophet guarantees you a spot in the celestial kingdom, and from that moment onward there's nothing you can do to disqualify yourself from it.

So now Joseph Smith has invented everything he needs to build his empire: a message of universal salvation to appeal to the masses that directly addresses the contemporary debates of protestantism, the ability to leverage the ultimate threat against any man who questions his leadership or any young girl who doesn't want to sleep with him, and the ability to offer the ultimate reward to his inner circle in exchange for their cooperation in carrying out his dirty work. He gets shot to death before he can do very much with any of this.

So now the stage is all set for Brigham Young to build upon the foundation his successor built. He expands Smith's nascent ideas into a fleshed-out universe. The curse of Cain is developed into mormon doctrinal racism, the law of consecration is developed into Deseret's United Order, and Joseph's early concepts of exaltation are developed into the ever-expanding hierarchy of gods.

In case you haven't figured out by now, Mormonism is built on a foundation of nitpicking specific semantic details and then extrapolating entire theological concepts from there. Blood atonement is primarily the result of Brigham Young doing exactly this with how blood is talked about in the scriptures alongside the use of the phrase "flesh and bone" instead of "flesh and blood" in specific contexts. Joseph Smith (and other contemporary religious figures, most notably those who would go on to form the Jehovah's Witnesses) had spoken quite a bit about blood and the symbolic and spiritual importance thereof, but Mormonism's unique contribution to the conversation was the idea that blood was mortality. Adam and Eve did not have blood until the fall, and Jesus didn't have blood after his resurrection. Blood contained both the curse of physical death and was also a metaphorical vessel for the soul, containing the sins of man, and therefore also carrying the curse of spiritual death. The most important moment of Jesus's life, according to Mormonism, was when he prayed in Gethsemane, as that's when he physically took the universe's sins onto himself and literally bled from every pore out onto the earth, as that's when he conquered spiritual death.

Still with me? Good. Now is where I need to talk about how mormon cosmology is built around the idea that planets, stars, the sun, and other heavenly bodies are living beings. Not in a metaphorical way but in a more literal sense. Stars and planets (including the sun) are essentially divine beings, home to beings that correspond to their degree of glory. This is important because Earth was also affected by the fall and became mortal and required all of the same saving ordinances as a human would. The flood of Noah was the earth's baptism (which means that according to this worldview, the entire earth was fully submerged under water), and the eventual fiery apocalypse of the world's end will be its confirmation, or baptism by fire. The earth's equivalent of the mormon Sacrament, then, was when it literally drank the blood (in Gethsemane) and ate the flesh (in the tomb) of Jesus. This act cleansed the earth itself of sin.

Ok, so now we finally get to talk about blood atonement in context. According to this whole paradigm, anyone who commits an act of perdition will have their very blood cursed and cut off from the presence of god. When they are resurrected to face final judgment, their sins will remain locked inside their now immortal bodies and prevent them from dwelling in any kingdom of glory (this point is not much elaborated on, and it's unclear whether bodies of sons of perdition have blood or are just metaphysically bound to it somehow).

When Cain slew Abel, Abel's innocent blood soaked the earth, and that blood cried out for justice, but Cain was cursed with perdition, so his blood could never be shed, and it wasn't until Jesus soaked the earth with his blood that Abel's blood's need for justice was fulfilled. The earth, having absorbed divine blood capable of paying the price of justice for innocent blood, can therefore act as an intermediary for this sort of thing.

But doesn't that undermine the whole "infinite atonement" thing? Well, yes, but not anymore than the necessity of any other ordinance within Mormonism does within the same framework. Jesus was baptized, and anyone who wants to access the specific covenants locked behind baptism needs to be baptized. Jesus, while not a murderer, took those sins upon himself and shed his blood, so any murderer who wants to access the redemption must also do so. Shedding your blood upon the ground becomes a sort of conditional ordinance that's only necessary if you've committed the otherwise unforgivable sin of murder.

Now you'll notice that we're only talking about murder here and not apostasy. That's because, crucially, those are the same thing as far as Mormonism is concerned, as you're spiritually killing someone (yourself and potentially your family as well). Brigham Young prescribed "death on the spot" for mormons who engaged in the apostate act of miscegenation, for example.

Now, I want to stress that it's extremely unclear how many people, if any, were actually blood atoned for apostasy, how many people, if any, were executed in ways that did not shed their blood because they were deemed "apostate," and how widespread or accepted any of this doctrine was beyond church leadership. I also want to make it clear that there is no credible evidence that suggests that either the doctrine or practice of blood atonement is taught or practiced by any branches of Mormonism beyond certain fundamentalist sects such as the FLDS under the leadership of Warren Jeffs, or isolated incidents such as the Lafferty Brother murders.

The mainstream LDS church has quietly de-emphasized or de-canonized almost all of these teachings, including many of the foundational elements. You can occasionally find church officials expressing some or even all of these beliefs in unofficial settings, but the most recent examples are the likes of Cleon Skousen, Hugh Nibley, Bruce McConkie, and Joseph Fielding Smith, all of which are decades ago at this point, and virtually all of which are inaccessible via official church records.

So there you go. I feel obligated to note that much of the connective tissue of this post comes from personal experience and decades of reading various official and semi-official writings on the topic and that I don't have a list of sources handy. Go read Under the Banner of Heaven (or watch the Hulu series) if you want a broader, better-sourced look at the history of violence within Mormonism (though note that Krakauer does dabble in conjecture, especially in the Hulu adaptation).

[littlelamy]

Could you write one where the pogue!reader is a super famous horror actress and she’s on break visiting her long time husband (since they were little kids) Rafe and just relaxing in the Obx

hope you like it! ⭐️ after months of relentless filming, you were finally back home. the plane had touched down at sunset, and you breathed in the familiar scent of salt and pine that filled the outer banks air. the soft golden light washed over the sprawling marshlands, casting long shadows that made everything look just a bit more haunted—a fitting setting for a horror actress on break. but for once, you could set aside the haunted characters and the makeup blood. for now, you were just you, finally stepping back into the arms of your long-time love, rafe cameron.

rafe met you at the airport, his easy smile lighting up the way it always had. despite the ups and downs that your job brought, he was always there, waiting to ground you. his arms wrapped around you the second you reached him, his hand finding the back of your neck as he whispered, "finally got my horror queen back."

you laughed, squeezing him tighter, the familiar warmth of him chasing away the chill you hadn’t realized had settled in your bones.

"missed you too, baby."

the days that followed were blissfully uneventful. you’d wake up late, wrapped up in soft sheets and in rafe’s arms, with the sounds of the ocean outside the window. you’d spend mornings sipping coffee on the dock, letting the sun warm your skin while rafe flipped through the local paper, occasionally nudging you with the latest town gossip. it was surreal how easily you slipped back into this life, far from the chaos of your hollywood career.

one afternoon, as the two of you strolled along the beach, rafe turned to you, a smirk playing at his lips. “so, they’re still calling you ‘scream queen,’ right?”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him. “it’s a thing, okay? people love horror.”

“oh, i know,” he teased, arching an eyebrow. “but i don’t get it. the movies… they’re fake. not scary at all.”

you stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms as you gave him an exaggerated glare. “says the guy who jumped when i showed him that clown mask.”

rafe laughed, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. “yeah, yeah. don’t spread that around.”

you grinned, letting him steer you down the shoreline. it was in these moments—where he poked fun, where you could laugh until your sides hurt, where the world felt like it was just the two of you against everything else—that you knew exactly why you’d loved him for so long.

that night, after a quiet dinner on the porch of tannyhill, rafe pulled you into his lap, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back. the air was still, filled with the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the waves. you rested your head on his shoulder, savoring the tranquility, aware that your break would be over soon. the quiet of the outer banks would be replaced with lights and cameras and the chill of on-set fog machines.

but tonight, you had him, and he had you. no costumes, no makeup, just the two of you, as you’d been since you were kids. the simplicity of it all felt like a balm, a reminder of who you were beneath the characters and the fame. and as you dozed off in his arms, you knew that no matter where your career took you, you’d always find your way back to this place—back to him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01

[favefandomimagines]

Dirty Little Secret (j.m)

Summary: who knew loving a Pogue could be so complicated?

AN: the results of the poll!! Secret relationship with JJ but with a happy ending! If you all ask for it, maybe I’ll post the sad version! 😉

The salty breeze blew across the shore of the Outer Banks, rustling through the palm trees and carrying with it the whispers of secrets long held. JJ Maybank stood on the edge of the pier, looking out at the water, his thoughts far away despite the familiar sound of the crashing waves.

He was a man of the Outer Banks, born and raised on the Cut—the side the tourists avoided, the side where life was tough and nothing came easy. The "Pogue" life.

But she...she was different. She was from Figure Eight, where the mansions lined the coast and everything was perfect—or at least it looked that way from afar.

She lived in a world of privilege that JJ could hardly imagine, but that didn’t stop him from falling for her. She had a warmth, an intelligence, a spark that had drawn him in from the first time they met. Against all odds, they had started something.

They had been together for a while now—the longest relationship JJ had ever been in, if he was being honest. That was something new for him. And he knew it wasn’t fair, keeping it a secret. At first, it had made sense. The difference in their worlds was too big, too glaring.

Her parents would never approve of her dating a Pogue, and his friends…well, it wasn’t like he was ashamed, but he just didn’t want to deal with the questions, the jokes. He was good at pretending he didn’t care about anything, but when it came to her, everything felt different.

She had been okay with it, too. At least at first. The secrecy added a thrill to their meetings, late-night drives where no one could see them, stolen kisses on the beach when they were sure no one was around. But now, things were starting to shift, and he could feel it.

||

The party was in full swing by the time she arrived, the bass from the music thumping loud enough to feel in her bones. It was one of those big beach parties, half the island’s kids gathered under the stars with the bonfire roaring, beer cans scattered across the sand. She scanned the crowd, looking for JJ.

They hadn’t come together—of course, they couldn’t. She had her own friends from Figure Eight, but they didn’t run in the same circles as JJ’s crew. But her heart raced when she thought about seeing him. Despite the secrecy, despite the sneaking around, she was falling hard for him.

But as she wove her way through the crowd, her heart stumbled.

There he was, right in the middle of his usual group: John B, Sarah, Pope, and...Kie.

Her breath caught as she watched them. JJ was laughing at something Pope said, but it wasn’t his laughter that bothered her. It was the way his hand was intertwined with Kie’s as they moved through the crowd together.

They weren’t holding hands like a couple, but the sight of it still hit her hard. JJ was helping Kie navigate through the throngs of people, his grip firm on her hand so they wouldn’t get separated.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way Kie looked at him. A look she recognized too well because it was the same way she looked at JJ—like he was the only one who mattered in the world. Her stomach twisted as insecurity gnawed at her.

Was she imagining things? Or was there something more between JJ and Kie than just friendship?

Her heart sank further as she saw Kie laugh at something JJ whispered in her ear, their bodies close as they moved toward the bonfire. She turned away, not wanting to see more. For the first time since they’d started sneaking around, she felt like maybe she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

||

Later that night, after the party had died down and most of the crowd had scattered, JJ found her on the beach, sitting alone on a log, the flames of the bonfire flickering in the distance. He could tell right away something was off. She wasn’t her usual playful self, and she didn’t light up when he walked over to her like she normally did.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, sitting beside her, the weight of the night pressing down on him.

She stared at the ground, the sand cold beneath her feet. “I saw you earlier. With Kie.”

JJ frowned. “Kie? What about her?”

“I saw you two holding hands,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “And the way she looks at you, JJ… It’s the same way I look at you.”

JJ blinked, caught off guard. “Kie? She’s my friend. You know that.”

“I know she’s your friend, but…” She trailed off, unsure how to say what she was feeling. “I’ve never been worried about you and other girls before, but tonight…I don’t know. It just felt different.”

JJ sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that with Kie. She’s like one of the guys. We’ve known each other forever.”

She nodded, but the doubt in her heart still lingered. “I don’t know, JJ. I guess seeing you two together made me realize how insecure I’ve been feeling lately. We’re always hiding, always sneaking around. And now…I’m starting to wonder if I’m the only one who feels this way.”

JJ shifted uncomfortably, not used to conversations like this. He wasn’t good with feelings—he’d always been better at shutting them down than dealing with them. But something about the look in her eyes made him pause.

“You’re not,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “I care about you. You know that.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his. “Do you? Because sometimes I feel like I’m just…here. In the background. Like you don’t know what you want.”

JJ stared at the sand, struggling to find the right words. “It’s not that simple.”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t meant for this moment to come so soon, but it was now or never. “I love you, JJ.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. JJ’s eyes widened in surprise. No one had ever said that to him before, not like that. Love wasn’t something he knew how to handle, wasn’t something he was used to.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just stared at her, unsure of how to react.

Her heart sank at his silence, tears welling up in her eyes. She had been afraid of this—afraid that she was more invested in this relationship than he was. Afraid that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t enough.

“I think we need to take a break,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I need to give you time to figure out what you want. And who you want.”

JJ’s chest tightened at her words. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he didn’t need time to figure anything out, but something in him held back. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t ready to handle something as big as this.

He watched as she stood up, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“I love you, JJ,” she repeated, her voice soft but firm. “But I can’t be the only one who feels that way.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving JJ sitting alone on the beach, staring after her.

||

Days passed, and the space between them grew wider. JJ tried to keep busy, throwing himself into life with John B, Pope, and the others, but nothing seemed to take his mind off her. He missed her more than he expected, but he didn’t know how to fix things.

Then, one day, Sarah pulled him aside, a serious look on her face.

“Did you know my brother asked her out?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

JJ’s heart dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Sarah said, crossing her arms. “He’s had a crush on her for years. He asked her out, and she said yes.”

JJ felt a surge of panic rise in his chest. He knew Rafe was bad news, and the thought of her with him made his blood boil. He couldn’t lose her—not to someone like Rafe.

That night, without thinking twice, JJ made his way to her house. He knew it was risky, showing up unannounced, but he didn’t care. He had to see her. He had to tell her how he felt.

When she opened the door, her eyes widened in surprise. “JJ? What are you doing here?”

“I can’t do this,” he blurted out, his heart pounding. “I can’t let you go. I know I’ve screwed up, and I don’t know how to be in a relationship, but I choose you. I choose you over anyone, including myself.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer, his voice raw with emotion.

“I can’t promise I won’t mess up again,” he continued, “because I don’t know how to do this. But I’ve never had someone love me like you do. And I promise I’ll love you the best way I can. I just…I need you.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her heart racing as she looked into his eyes. Then, slowly, she smiled, her walls crumbling as she reached for him.

“I choose you too, JJ,” she whispered. “I always have.”

And in that moment, under the glow of the porch light, they found each other again.

[shiggyscumrag]

HEY HEY !! Just read your Logan fic and I NEED MORE , your writing is amazing. Please could we get some pain kink/masochist Logan with a slightly dom reader , fem or gn idm!!!

I HOPE YOU ARE WELL !!!

(Specifcally thinking of the scene where he puts the cigar out on his hand.)

HEYYY POOKIE!!!! 💋💋 thank you so much you’re too sweet 🫶🏻 I am in LOVE with this request so I will indulge you lol. I did not proofread this so I apologize for any warnings I might miss and for any mistakes/misspellings!!

Synopsis: Logan was having so much fun teasing and edging you all night long, while you were growing more frustrated by the minute. Deciding you aren’t waiting any longer, you hop on top and show him just how you want it. Maybe some pain will make him remember who’s in charge.

Warnings: choking, biting, hickies, edging, top reader with sub Logan, hair pulling, Logan using his claws on you, freaky shiz

One hand circling at your clit and the other wrapped around your throat. Tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks as his cock pushed in and out of you at an absolutely brutal pace. Your legs over his shoulder stretched as far as they could possibly go. Panting to keep up you were getting close again. He knew that, yet Logan just loved the flush on your face and the tears in the corner of your eyes too much to stop. Then he did. Pulling both his hands away and stalling his hips still deep inside you.

“How much longer are you gonna make me wait!” You whine out hands starting to trail down to your clit. Hoping to find some relief since he’s enjoying his games a little too much.

“No, no, now you know better than to try that.” He grumbles in a raspy manner wrapping his hands around your wrists pinning them above your head. Face to face he plants a kiss to each cheek and then your jaw slowly working his way down your neck. He places a gentle kiss on each collar bone, you start arching up your chest to meet his hot lips. Kissing down in between your tits he starts moving farther tickling the skin on your stomach with his beard. Coming back up right before he could place a kiss on your clit he laughs.

“How bad do you want it?” He has to be joking right? You’ve been begging to cum for an HOUR! Retracting his claws only an inch or two he drags them across your outer thighs, the cold metal making you shiver.

“Real fucking bad.” You tease letting your voice lower into a deeper octave feigning a whimper, your legs snake around his waist bringing him even closer. Smirking he leans farther down to kiss you slightly loosening his grip on your wrists. Perfect.

Using your body strength you flip him onto his back now holding his hands above his head. Grinding down on his dick he groans in confusion.

“What the hell? This is hot, but-” interrupting him your other hands covers his mouth. He tried to move his hands but you hold steady so he doesn’t put up a fight. Stilling he gives into your little game.

“I want to cum. So hold on hot stuff.” Not giving him any warning you slip him in with no hands. Moaning loud his hands instinctively went to grab your hips. Holding strong you let out a laugh beginning to ride him.

“Not tonight baby. You had your chance to fuck me. I’m in charge now pretty boy.” You lean down whispering into his ear. Placing a kiss right behind his ear you continue to bounce on his cock. Biting down hard on his pressure point has him moaning loudly right in your ear. You taste a little metallic in your mouth. You can feel him twitch in you and it had your walls fluttering around him. Looking down at him you see his claws starting to poke out again, and an idea popped up in your pretty little mind.

“Use your claws on me.” You almost laughed at how his tightly shut eyes opened so wide so quickly. It was inhumanly fast. No pun intended.

“What?” He asks almost like you’re fucking crazy. Maybe he’s a little right.

“Scratch down my back like I do yours. Just be a little more gentle than me.” Pulling your hand off his wrist he sits up his chest meeting yours. He chuckles under his breath at your comment, his hands finding the small of your back squeezing slightly. You jumped a little when you felt his cold claws start to apply pressure on the top of your shoulders. Looking longingly into Logan’s eyes you don’t hold back the moan that breaks from your throat when you feel him start dragging his claws down your back. The pressure breaking your skin lightly, marks forming in their wake. Halfway down your head falls back and you feel really close. The sting and sudden burn has your vision blurring in the best way possible.

“Fuck you’re so sexy.” He’s grinning wide with a scrunch in his brow. Biting your lip you look back down at him, your legs growing tired but you’re determined to make him cum with no help. Maximum effort as Wade would say. Your left hand finds his throat squeezing hard and pulling him into a sloppy hot kiss while the other grips his shoulder. You start to bounce faster curving your pelvis into his. He starts to pull away moaning but you hold onto his bottom lip, biting him playfully before letting go.

“Holy shit- I’m gonna cum!” He grunts out. Holding back a very obvious whine. It came out a little bit at the end. He was gonna be the death of you.

You almost cum from those words alone. Moaning, coming out more like a bratty whine, you take your hand away from his throat to rub your clit. The hand on his shoulder moving to the base of his neck, pulling on his hair deliciously. Head falling back Logan’s hands crush your waist forming a bruising grip. Just from the pure pleasure consuming him. Finding the perfect rhythm you can feel the final stroke before you cum all over his cock. Milking him you can feel him fill you up no more then a few seconds later. The shudder that runs through his body has your body heating up and your lips curl into a smile.

“Logan! Oh fuck- fuck that feels so good!” You’re now shaking as you slow your pace. Still riding out your high his hands make their way to your hips guiding you.

“God, you ride me so pretty princess. Made me feel so good.” Kissing your neck he starts to give you a hickey. Moaning his name again you feel satisfied.

I’ll write more masochist and or sadist Logan in the future bc I enjoyed writing this but I’m not completely satisfied with it.

[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Whump Week Day 4: Prompts: Getting shot // Chronic pain

Another fic for @bucktommywhumpweek! I'm hoping to finish a few more of these before the week is actually over, lol. Rated: E ... I don't know if this really qualifies as whump (like my last whump week fic 💀) but I just can't help making them all sappy atm.

What people didn’t know about bullets was that they rarely went through-and-through in a nice neat manner; not through walls, or car doors, or flesh. They bounced around inside you like a rubber ball, inflicting the most damage possible. 

Buck had seen the aftermath more times than would have liked to. 

The memory of being called to his first GSW was a visceral one, it had been a domestic dispute and once they’d loaded the victim into the bus, Hen had rubbed his back as he’d thrown up into some nearby shrubbery. Buck could still feel the acid burn in the back of his throat when he remembered it. 

He’d seen cadaver photos in his text books, but those never compared to the real thing. The sheer volume of blood that poured out of people was enough to make him nauseous just thinking about it. The cartoonish version of a bullet hole that he’d carried around in his head for most of his life just hadn’t held up. 

Maybe it had been shortsighted of him, but Buck had never taken the time to consider what might come later; not until Tommy had taken Buck’s hand in his own and laid it over the meat of his shoulder and let Buck feel the little knobs of bullet fragments lodged there, like ball bearings trapped beneath his skin. 

“Do they bother you?” Buck asked, in wonder. 

“Not often,” Tommy replied, his hand still blanketing Buck’s as he let him dig his fingers into his shoulder muscle like he would be more than happy to just leave it there forever. “Most of the time I forget they're even there.”

Buck found that hard to believe. He couldn’t imagine having a foreign object stuck in his body and not obsessing over it every moment of every day. 

Tommy was giving him an amused, knowing look. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to be thinking about those for a while aren’t you?”

Buck huffed, rolling his eyes. It was a little unsettling maybe, sometimes, being understood so through and quickly by another person. He liked it; it made him feel all shivery and warm inside, but more importantly it made him feel daring. Bold. 

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

Tommy took Buck’s hand in his own: his palm big, warm and dry, and slid it down to rest on the muscular curve of his outer thigh. “There’s some more over here too,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as Buck gave all the nice warm flesh there a squeeze.

There wasn’t a lot of talking after that, but Tommy had been right, Buck had thought about it for a while, his mind stuck on invisible scars and mementoes carried around inside you that no one else could see. 

///

Buck wasn’t sure if it was the thunder or the soft orange glow spilling into the mezzanine that woke him. Quiet noises came from the kitchen below, the muted purr of the kettle and the shuffle of Tommy’s socked feet against the tile. Tommy had still been in Buck’s bed when he’d fallen asleep hours ago, tucked up against Tommy’s side as Tommy read by the lamp light.

Buck pulled on his sweatpants and made his way down to the main floor, feeling oddly awake for 4 am. He rarely had a bad night’s sleep when Tommy was with him, taking up space in Buck’s bed and stealing his covers. 

Tommy sent him a guilty look when he noticed Buck, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, not pulling honey from Buck’s kitchen cabinet. He was wearing one of Buck’s old hoodies and some sleep shorts. The circles under his eyes were dark and deep. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he whispered like Buck might be standing there in front of him, still asleep.

“I don’t mind,” Buck said and meant it. He wasn't the one with the shift in far too few hours.

Buck leaned back against the edge of the counter crossing his arms as he did, and settled in. He knew whatever was bothering Tommy would work its way out on its own, like a splinter buried beneath skin. He watched quietly as Tommy stirred honey into his tea. Buck was no stranger to sleepless nights and aching bones. Tommy had sat with him through some of the more recent bad nights, endlessly patient. 

Buck watched him closely, quietly analyzing the tilt of his body and the clench of his jaw as Tommy leaned against the counter opposite him. The cool light from the stove hugged the contours of his face, digging out dark wedges beneath those cheekbones that could cut glass. 

“Well, aren't you gonna ask?”

Buck shrugged. “I figured I'd just wait you out.”

Tommy sighed, setting his mug to the side. He was smart enough to know when he was on the losing side of a battle. “It's the scar tissue around the shrapnel I've still got in me. Every so often it begins to pull in uncomfortable ways and makes it impossible to get settled.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Tommy tilted his head like he was really considering Buck and his words. “Honestly I don't know, I normally just take an Ibuprofen and put on a movie or something and try to just ignore it.”

“Well, I think we can do better than that,” Buck said, and Tomy raised a brow, curiosity peaked.

With hands planted firmly on Tommy’s shoulders, Buck guided him back upstairs to bed and got him splayed out on his belly across the center of the mattress on a towel, sweater-less, with his arms tucked comfortably under his head. 

“Finally, just where I want you,” Buck teased as he straddled Tommy’s waist, reaching for the massage oil. He could feel Tommy’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, muffled by the pillow.

Buck admired the span of Tommy’s back as he warmed the oil up between his hands, deciding where to begin. The bullet and shrapnel scars were faint now, Buck knew their locations by memory and feel alone. He started by smoothing his hands up the center of Tommy’s back, following the column of his spine and the thick muscles flanking it, getting Tommy warmed up and used to his touch before applying more pressure. 

Buck always preferred to talk while he worked, and with Tommy the smooth flow of words came easy. If he let himself, he could probably let his mouth run for hours, and Tommy would listen. 

“You know, I wanted to be a masseuse for a while.”

Tommy hummed, his eyes had drifted shut when Buck began to work on the tight knot of tissue just below his shoulder blade, he peeled one open now, offering Buck an amused look over his shoulder. “And which hunky guy did you follow that career into?”

“Ha ha,” Buck said, poking his fingers playfully into Tommy's side, just to watch him squirm. “Actually, it was after working at the ranch, there was this ex bronco rider, who had compressed his spine one too many times, mucking out stalls with me. He told me all about how his girlfriend had taken massage therapy classes to help him with his back because his insurance wouldn’t cover the treatment.” 

“Ah, so it was a hunky girl that time.”

Buck chuckled. He liked how easy it was to talk with Tommy about stuff like this; he wasn’t ashamed of  himself or his past, but he was wary of how people might perceive him because of it. He’d wanted so badly for Tommy to think of him as a serious person, to know that Buck was all in. That dating him didn’t imply some sort of unspoken risk–and with Tommy it never had. 

“You know me–I always liked the idea of helping people, I just didn't know how, yet.” 

“Maybe I’m being selfish, but I think you ended up right where you were supposed to be,” Tommy said, and groaned in pleasure when Buck really started working at the scar tissue webbed deep within his back muscle.

“How’s that feel?” Buck asked, anticipating Tommy's approval.

“Fucking awesome.”

Buck grinned. He knew he was good with his hands, but it was a whole nother thing entirely to be good with his hands for Tommy. Pleased with himself, a heavy satisfaction settled warm in the pit of his stomach. He loved everything about this: having Tommy pliable and relaxed beneath him, working slick skin over with his hands, making Tommy feel good, being able to help in some small way.

Buck shuffled down, straddling Tommy’s leg so he could work his fingers into the outside of Tommy’s thigh where he knew a metal shard the size of his thumbnail lived. That one had been logged in there when an IED had struck the lead vehicle in their convoy, and some of Buck’s satisfaction melted away as he thought about just how many close calls his boyfriend’s body was littered with. He was normally the one getting shit for taking risks, but in truth Tommy was just as guilty as he was. 

Tommy had gone completely boneless underneath him, his skin pink and a little shiny from having Buck’s oiled up hands all over him. He continued to rub gently circles into his skin even after he’d finished with the final shrapnel wound he knew of, running his nails lightly over the thick swirls of hair on the backs of Tommy’s legs. 

Tommy shifted his hips against the mattress, spreading his legs a little wider. Buck knew that move, and that satisfaction in his gut twisted and flared back to life. He slid his hands up the backs of Tommy’s thighs as slowly as he could handle.

“Are you hard?” he asked, worming his fingers under the hem of Tommy’s shorts when he reached them. 

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “That felt really good, but, uh, we don’t have to do anything, you must be tired and–”

He was starting to sound way too with it for Buck’s liking. Buck dug his thumbs into the soft inner flesh of Tommy’s thighs and let his hips roll in a slow, pointed drag along the back of Tommy’s leg so there was no way he could miss the semi Buck was sporting.

Tommy’s muscles jumped under his hands as he groaned. “Okay, Okay, you’ve made your point. Help me out of these–”

Buck was more than happy to peel Tommy’s shorts down his legs as Tommy lifted his hips obligingly. He had half a mind to just dump a generous amount of the oil on Tommy’s big pale ass and go to town, but he had a feeling that would probably ruin the [slowly winding] mood they’d built. 

In a show of what he considered great restraint, Buck slipped a slick hand between Tommy’s thighs, rolling his balls softly in the palm of his hand just to hear the noises he would make. Quiet chuffs and deep groans were muffled by the pillow as Tommy ground his hips in lazy circles against the mattress and back into Buck’s hand, and Buck was starting to think he’d never get over how good it felt to have another man like this: a big body to push and pull and work at until it ultimately unraveled.

Buck stretched up so he could press a kiss to the thick curve of Tommy’s shoulder, not caring one bit about the oil that still clung to his skin. He let his hand drift up and rubbed his slick fingers indulgently over Tommy’s asshole, gratified by the way he moaned and pushed into it. 

“You can if you want to,” Tommy said, breathless, and Buck could tell without even looking at his face how gone he was just from having Buck’s hands on him. 

“I have a better idea,” Buck said, pulling at Tommy’s hip. “Here–roll onto your side for me.”

It didn’t take Tommy long to clue in once Buck pressed himself all up along his back and reached for the bottle of oil again, slicking his dick up in the shallow space between their bodies. 

His body tensed when realization dawned. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Evan– ” 

And it was Tommy’s turn to lose his cool, his voice reedy and feverish, a thin tremor through his body as Buck maneuvered his thigh so he could fit his dick into that hot, tight space between them. He wrapped an arm around the barrel of Tommy’s chest, pinning him tight against his own as Buck took that first long, indulgent roll of his hips. 

Buck had always enjoyed fucking someone’s thighs–what wasn’t there to like–but there was something specific about the way Tommy got so worked up over it, even in the early hours of the morning after a sleepless night, even when Buck had just worked his body to jello with his hands, that rocketed the act up into the stratosphere.

Tommy squeezed his thighs around him, Buck could hear the labored cadence of his breathing and the obscene sounds of him fisting his own cock, as Buck fucked the slick give of his thighs. The way the head of his dick kept nudging up against the soft resistance of Tommy’s balls with every stroke was still just different enough to scratch at Buck’s brain in new and interesting ways.

Tommy’s fingers dug into his hair, pulling Buck’s face down so he could slide their mouth together at an awkward angle. The kiss was sloppy, Tommy kept sucking Buck’s tongue into his mouth and then breaking away to moan again and again as he got closer to coming. Buck could feel it all through his body, wound like a coil ready to spring. He wasn’t far behind, his plan to keep things slow and simmering had fallen through quickly. He should have known better; with Tommy pressed against him like one big throbbing pulse, overwhelming Buck’s senses with the musky scent of his body, and the sounds he made when he touched himself, and how good it felt to rut against him like this, the desperate slide of skin against skin, there was just no chance he was going to last.  

Buck buried his face in the hollow of Tommy’s shoulder, just above where that pale constellation of shrapnel lived, and stilled as he came in thick pulses all along Tommy’s taint, that little space between his thighs instantly going wet and frictionless. 

Tommy made a wounded sound, and Buck held him tight in the cradle of his arms as Tommy hitched his hips into his fist until he came. He was still pressing kisses against Tommy’s damp hairline when Tommy reached up and laced their fingers together, no longer shaking. 

“Well, I’m definitely not thinking about the stupid shrapnel anymore.”

“Good,” Buck said, allowing himself to feel smug about it. “My work here is done.”

“Not so quick hot stuff,” Tommy said, reaching back to pat him on the hip. “I expect your help de-oiling in the shower. I think this mess is a four-handed operation.”

“Yes, sir.” Buck peeled himself from where he’d been clinging to Tommy like a limpet.

He took a moment to admire the long, glistening stretch of Tommy’s body, limp and satisfied. Debauched, even.

"What?" Tommy asked, stretching his arms above his head as he rolled onto his back, offering Buck a good view of where his come was actively drying in his happy trail. Buck would have a fun time scrubbing that out.

"Nothing, I'm just happy you're here, with me."

Tommy face went immediately soft and he pressed up on his knees so he could pull Buck into one more lingering kiss before breaking away.

"There's no where I'd rather be."

[mothergold]

| Picture You |

Pairing: Dottore x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Soft Sex, Reader goes by no pronouns, Dottore goes by He/Him pronouns, Fingering, Reader has a vagina, Hurt/Comfort (More implied rather than explicitly stated), Aftercare, Soft Dottore, Established Relationship, 800 ish words. 

A/n: I want to be loved by Dottore, that is all. This is lowkey selfship coded but you didn’t hear that from me.

You gasped. “N-Not there, it’s sensitive.”

Looking up at Dottore with half-lidded eyes you bit your lip, holding back whimpers as he carefully circled your bud with the pad of his finger. 

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Just relax.” 

With one hand he rubbed your outer thigh as he continued gently circling your clit. You let your head fall back as your breathing grew heavier. He was incredibly gentle and careful with every move he made, treating you with the utmost care. You let out a quiet moan as he quickened the pace in which he touched you, and hummed in satisfaction as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly. His touch was like silk, welcoming and warm. You lifted up your head again to connect your gaze with Dottore’s. Those ruby eyes remained just as comforting as you’d remembered, there was something so peaceful about getting lost in the color of them. 

“You’re doing so good.” He purred. 

Dottore lifted up his free hand to stroke his knuckle lightly against the side of your face. He tilted his head and smiled tenderly, you always did look so beautiful in the light of his bedroom. 

“More?” He asked, already knowing just what you wanted. 

You nodded in approval. 

Gradually he added one finger and then another before he started to slowly move them inside of you. The sensation felt better than you thought it would. Perhaps it was even more pleasurable than the last time he had done it, but you were far too focused on the euphoria to think too hard about it. He could feel your walls begin to tighten around his fingers, pushing you closer to the high you were trying to achieve. It was evident from the look on your face that you were truly relaxed, an expression he had long hoped to see you wear. 

You covered your mouth with your hand to suppress your moans but Dottore swiftly removed it and gave you a stern look.

“I want to hear you.” He explained.

You averted your gaze out of shame, but he was quick to quell any worries you had.

“There’s no reason to hold back.” His eyes stared into your soul. “Just trust me.” 

It was a tall order, especially coming from Dottore, but you did your best to put your faith in him regardless. He had begun to pick up the pace as well as add another finger inside of you. Dottore made come hither motions inside of you as you allowed yourself to let go and cry out his name. He didn’t have many strong emotions about his new name, but hearing it from your tongue caused something sweet to bloom across his chest. 

Your body writhed and back arched as he kept a steady pace, watching with pride as you grew closer and closer to cloud nine. Throwing your head back you let out a loud moan, gripping onto the blankets beneath you as Dottore finally pushed you over the edge. As you came all over his hand your ears had begun to ring, almost as if you ceased to exist in the moment you ascended to godhood. Instead of clinging to the blankets you reached out for your lover’s hand, using one of your hands closest to him to latch your fingers around his wrist. You squeezed it tightly as your body arched and squirmed against his hands. 

While you tried to come down from your ascension Dottore had carefully removed his fingers from inside of you and pulled you into lap, cradling you close to his chest as you panted through your dizzying daze. With one hand cupping your head and the other wrapped firmly around your body he rocked you side to side, shushing you as if you were a crying child. Resting your head against his shoulder you gradually felt yourself become soothed into a quiet state, enjoying the feeling of warm skin against even warmer skin. His touch was something you hadn’t realized you craved so strongly until that moment, and then it was the only thing you dreamt about.

Very slowly you moved a hand up to the collar of his shirt to hold onto it loosely. You sighed as you felt the relief of the familiar fabric, and nuzzled your head weakly against his neck as you felt yourself drift off to sleep. Dottore did not move even after you fell asleep, holding you close to his body as he hummed in satisfaction to the sound of your breathing evening out. Eventually he would move but for that moment he chose to rest his head against yours and continued rocking you into a blissful state, letting a small smile curve the corners of his mouth until he too felt calmer.