#like he definitely had a few but not as many as people tend to say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 3 months ago

Note

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake. You knew it the moment you walked in, the thumping music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

But somehow, you’d caved, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right. Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room. There were people everywhere—laughing, dancing, chattering loudly in clumps—and the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

So, you did what you always did in these situations: you found a place to hide. After walking through the drunk college students, you eventually ended up on quiet nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study. Blessedly, it was empty. With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the noise of the party changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t even notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word. He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled hair and a loose, easy grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

Oh, God. You knew him—well, of him, at least. He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Until now.

Then his face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, somehow managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he seriously calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed. Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls practically draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out like he owned the place.

“See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort. “Right.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his gaze roaming over your face “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward. “My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and for a moment, he looked almost sober. “Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class. “Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that almost looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk. This didn’t mean anything. He probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.

But then, his eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair. Within seconds, he was snoring. You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter. You were just getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends. But it wasn’t.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he said casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair like this was completely normal. “Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You stared at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, all cocky charm. “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

And for some reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

But Rafe just leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least. Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing. Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured smirk.

You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look as if daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess,” he replied, voice low and teasing.

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in slightly so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, trying to ignore the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, shifting just a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you. It was infuriating. And yet, when you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

But Rafe just smirked, his gaze drifting lazily up and down your face before flicking back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit.

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention was like a physical thing—intense and all-consuming. It made you uneasy.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, tuning out the heat of Rafe’s gaze. Professor Callahan was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look. “I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t even blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile. “Sorry, Professor. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?” he whispered, leaning closer.

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream. How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?” He leaned in again, eyes bright with mischief. “You want me to go back to ignoring you?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that, princess.”

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly. The room buzzed with students shuffling out, but you kept your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, all casual charm, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt, but the way he looked at you—with that infuriatingly lazy grin—told you he could see right through you.

“Cool. I’m starving.” He said it like it was an invitation, like he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic. People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, curious and disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

But Rafe just flashed you that cocky, confident grin. “Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch, he said, like this wasn’t completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already steering you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle.

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly. You hadn’t even sat down yet, and they still managed to look up as one, their expressions morphing from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover. “What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing some kind of glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the most interesting girl on campus.”

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could practically see their brains short-circuiting. Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

But he just smirked, his gaze sliding over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare. But that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, like she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused. “What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? That Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, clearly skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird. You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. And yet, here he was, acting like sitting with you at lunch was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. Now, what do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange like it was some sort of bizarre performance. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, his smile smug. “Be right back.”

And then, to your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the hell just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—thank God—but he didn’t exactly tone down his usual cocky self either. By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends just enough to leave them confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to move on to his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment. But of course, he wasn’t known for playing by the rules.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. The library was your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and blissfully free of distractions. At least, until Rafe sauntered in. You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes. The library was busy, students murmuring as they worked, the rustle of pages and the faint clack of keyboards filling the air. You were hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it—

You stiffened, glancing up cautiously, and there he was.

He leaned against the bookshelf a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you with a lazy, assessing look. He didn’t move, just watched you, his lips quirking in that infuriating smirk when your eyes met.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously. No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” he said easily, pushing off the bookshelf and strolling over to your table. He pulled out the chair across from you, dropping into it like he had every right to be there. “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today, princess.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You are… I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

Your mouth fell open. “Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about? This was insane. He didn’t just hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived. And yet, here he was, sitting across from you in the library like this was normal.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. This was absurd. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim, huh?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a strange, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting. “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. Like, you actually care.”

“I—I do care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that, like he actually meant it?

Before you could even begin to untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

But he didn’t even glance at you. He just kept staring down the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re just sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, your mouth going dry. “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes were dark, intense, locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. Surely, following you to lunch and then “protecting” you in the library was enough.

So when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Because somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“Come on, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus. The music was already blaring, the heavy bass vibrating through your body. People were packed in the main room, laughing, talking, drinking, the buzz of chatter filling the air.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare. “Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. After a few minutes you managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall. Maybe if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the now-familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you. Sure enough, when you glanced up, there he was.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away, his eyes locked on you with that lazy focus that made your heart stutter. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you like you were the only person in the room.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else. “Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a few long strides until he was standing directly in front of you, his presence overwhelming.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, I don’t know, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you with a faux-innocent smile.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right. People didn't just like you. They tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you. Not like that. Not in the way he was implying. You felt panic rising in your chest, like a wave that was too big to stop. You couldn’t stop it.

“You’re lying,” you said shakily, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching. “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching. No, this couldn’t be happening. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective. “Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him. Maybe he didn’t actually mean any of what he said. He was probably just bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned. It was impossible to shake the nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you. That this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re just messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step back to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

Rafe stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You really think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity, that same focus, like you were the only person who mattered.

Your chest tightened, panic grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. People didn’t just… like you. They didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you. There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m some joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t been honest about anything. You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying?

You moved your head again, harder this time. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "What doesn't make sense to you?"

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you actually care. Like you see me. People don’t just do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to believe him. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, to always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern. "Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest. "It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head slowly. "That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to say something—anything—to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come. But Rafe didn’t give you the chance.

"You think I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?"

You wanted to pull away, to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I’m not bored. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this—this kind of sincerity. It felt too real. And part of you still wanted to push it away, to reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

For a long, breathless moment, the two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your mind was still processing everything, but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you feel—just for a second—like maybe you could trust this.

You shook your head, "I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, your voice uncertain. "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to figure out how to make you believe him. "I get that," he said quietly. "And I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about this."

You wanted to believe him. More than anything, you wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, your throat tight. "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. Instead, he just nodded slowly.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

And with that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. He didn’t try to force anything, didn’t press for more. Instead, he just gave you a small, almost hopeful smile and turned, disappearing back into the crowd.

And as you stood there, your heart still pummeling into your ribs, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

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fallenrocket · 1 month ago

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My god, Cassian is just so young in season 1 of Andor. On this last rewatch, it kept jumping out at me everywhere. Especially at the start of the show, which makes sense--he goes through a pretty intense education over the course of the season and transforms before our eyes. But there's just so much in Cassian that comes from being young, traumatized, and desperate.

We see it in his moments of unabashed fear, like when he's stopped by the two corpos in the pilot, the first time he sees the TIE fighter fly past on Aldhani, or as the prison transport takes off for Narkina 5. Even when he tries to hide it, we can see it in his eyes, the parts of him that are still that scared kid from Kenari.

We see it in the chip he has on his shoulder, like the attitude he cops with Luthen in their first meeting: "I don't know you." He's not just guarded and distrustful, he kind of actively resents this guy trying to get too familiar with him. When he's scared, uncertain, or guilty, he tends to push others away, a product of having to fight most of his life and of losing many of the things and people he's cared about. I also think of him coldly telling Bix, "You won't have to worry about me anymore," at the end of their argument in "Announcement."

And yet, by the same token, he can also be surprisingly open and earnest in his affections. For me, this is most apparent in his scenes with Maarva in "Announcement." There, we see his naive optimism that the money he got from Aldhani can solve all their problems. He's so buoyant and hopeful and loving as he suggests running away, saying, "What do we need but the three of us?" Later in the episode, we see that same naivety when he insists, "We'll find a place they haven't ruined yet." But it crops up in other places too. On Aldhani, he chooses Clem's name as his pseudonym, even though he already realizes Luthen has a lot of intel on him and will probably recognize it--in that moment, his distrust of Luthen is outweighed by his desire to go into this dangerous mission carrying a small piece of his dad with him. Then there's that beautiful hug with Brasso in "Rix Road," especially those few extra beats past when you'd expect them to part. When he hugs Melshi in the previous episode, Cassian is rushed, on the brink of falling apart and not wanting Melshi to see. But with Brasso, Cassian needs that touch for a few extra seconds, and he's not afraid to hold on a little longer.

Most of Cassian's dumbest mistakes in the season are very youthful ones. He's an incredibly smart and observant guy, so he's not dumb very often, but when he is, it tends to come back to being young, traumatized, and desperate. We see this especially in the opening Ferrix arc: insisting on bringing an unsecured comm to his meeting with Luthen (oh my god, the way he bickers with B2EMO about them beforehand!) and trying to go back for the starpath unit when the shit hits the fan, even after Luthen repeatedly tells him to leave it. With the starpath unit, part of it is naivety--"What if it's just one guy left?"--and part of it is growing up poor and scrappy. This box represents more money than he's ever had at any one time, and he simply can't process the idea that his buyer would just leave it behind.

Finally, every now and then, Cassian has this subtle but impeccable "little shit" energy. We definitely see it when he messes with Timm in the pilot, deliberately goading him instead of trying to defuse the situation when he sees that Timm is jealous. It's a dumb, petty moment of cheap satisfaction that winds up with some intense blowback when Timm IDs him to Pre-Mor. And I love Cassian's refusal to give up on Kino on Narkina 5, always believing he can be brought into the fold no matter how many times Kino tells him to forget about it. It's a great reflection of how Cassian rejects the Empire's attempts to divide the inmates by pitting them against each other, but part of why he's able to keep at it is his annoying-kid tenacity. I love the scene where Kino brushes him off by saying how many shifts he has left and Cassian immediately responds with, "So...tell me what you know before you go."

It's simply wild to compare the Cassian we see in "Kassa" to the one in "Rix Road." He goes through so much in twelve episodes and really comes into his own, and it's fantastic to see some of the qualities he displays in Rogue One starting to peek through. He's already come so far in his character growth--I cannot wait to see how season 2 gets us from "Rix Road" to Rogue One!

Oh yeah, and Diego Luna is simply stunning. You can really feel how he traced Cassian's life backwards to this point, see how different the Cassian of "Kassa" is from the Cassian of Rogue One and yet still fully believe that this is the same character. All the little hints he drops, all the tiny moments where you can see Rogue One Cassian starting to gestate. It's such beautiful, brilliant work!

#fallenrocket #star wars #andor #cassian andor #diego luna

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drdtblingsceo · 3 months ago

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WHIT TIME LOOP THEORY – EXPLAINED

Veronikas rambling about the book is during her intro and the text on white background is a hidden text on DRDT tumblr page..

1. FOREVER DEAD

The hidden text and Forever Dead are really similar, I highlighted the parts that re connected / similar

Frist, the protagonist of Forever Dead is a boy, so saying this could also be about Veronika ( there are mentions about " boredom " and Veronika is the one telling Teruko and Xander about the book in the frist place ) doesnt make sense;

Whits secret quote is " We tend to idolize dead ", and both the book and Wsq is related to death. ( Its obv possible that the quote is about his mother but its not directly stated, and ofc even if it is, it doesnt have to be ONLY abt his mom )

2. WHITS INTUITION

Its highlighted so far 3 times in DRDT ( and definitely will be more ), and yea thats suspicious. What if Whits intuiton is infact not that amazing that he can even predict things ( one example: the " Do you really think shed be HANGING out in a playground rn ? ", and yea it could be just a joke put there by DRDTdev BUT !!! or when he said that his intuiton is telling him that him and Charles will become good friends someday ), but he just knows what will happen and how the situations will play out because hes been throught them before for MANY times

3. 4TH WALL

Whit broke the 4th wall few times, directly talking to US - the viewers, or doing things benefiting us, even if it doesnt make sense in his place. For example: when SHOWING the characters special weapons list and then talking directly to the audience, or when in early-mid (chapter 2 episode 10) trial asked what is Edens secret because "he forgot" and Ace said that he didnt had to ask because he can just simply look up at the monitor where are all the secret displayed, its like Whit did it so WE can get reminded which secret are already revealed and belong to who.

4. FORESHADOWING

Also Whit foreshadowed things too, for example AGAIN the Arei hanging out at playground scene

( small theory, that can later on be evidence for this theory too: in prologue, during Charles intro, he joked about Charles being " pronounced dead at 3 ", so if Charles will die in 3rd chapter or in any chapter during 3 AM / PM, it will be a HUGE evidence for this theory )

5. " BACK ON THE RIGHT TRACK "

There were situations where Whit brought DRDT " back on the right track " or made the kg more interesting, like when he protected / revealed Charles hemophobia during trial 1, because he knew that if everyone voted Charles as the culprit the kg would end ( and cmon TV show ending so quickly would be no fun !!!.. Also why would he start the time loop again so early on ??? )

Or when he didnt helped during the chapter 2 episode 4 fight, or when he didnt revealed Davids secret until he was literally forced too

6. POSSIBILITIES

1. He is the mastermind and wants to entertain the audience as much as he can, and since he knows what will happen anyways, he can direct what situations he will let play out and what not, so it wont he boring for us

2. Hes not the mastermind but he is stuck in the time loop so he wants to entertain himself as much as he can, in the hidden text on tumblr page there is mention of constant boredom, so naturally he wants to entertain himself as much as he possibly can to not feel it

He, of course, can be the mm and want to entertain himself too, or not be the mm but he will atleast make it that way so we wont be as bored as he is now - he will make the TV show entertaining

7. WHITS PERSONALITY

If Whit was put throught so many loops or stuck in this kg for " eternity " wouldnt he act cold or emotionless, or atleast not how he acts now ??? Yea maybe, but think about it, if he was a bitch, distant, cold or mean to everyone – no one would like him, or if he took it to extreme people would avoid him even ( MAYBE minus Veronika but im sure he would get pretty fed up with her after a while ), and the consequences of people ignoring / avoiding him ??? More boredom... which he already is REALLY bored so why would he make it even worse for himself ??

8. " KILL TERUKO TAWAKI "

I think its pretty clear ( or atleast very possible ) that the one who wrote the " kill Teruko Tawaki " note is the mastermind

The note looks like its written in a specific type of blue pen which we didnt see in the series yet, and you know who special pen/s which no one in the cast would find / have ( minus Min ) ??? – Whit !!! His special weapon is stationary, which is known as writing and other office materials ( including pens duh ). But Charles would call Whit out since he knows Whits handwriting and saw the ktt note ??? Yea no.. Charles canonicaly doesnt remember much from frist trial, so I rlly doubt that he remembers how ( handwriting ) the note looked like. It couldnt be Whit who wrote the note cuz he canonicaly dots his i / js with hearts !! But is it that hard to not do that while writing something you dont want anyone to know that you wrote it.. and honestly i think anyone in his position and who wantes to push the kg further, they would atleast slightly change their handwriting.. Whit really isnt dumb

9. WHITS REACTION TO DEATHS/ EXTREME SITUATIONS

After Mins execution, everyone was disturbed or shocked, even VERONIKA, but Whits reaction was " jeez, thats terrible ",, he didnt had disturbed or shocked sprite either, he even joked about her execution later on in the series

Or his reaction to Areis death, it was another emotionless " oops, thats not good :P ", and as far as we know Whit and Arei were atleast kinda friends

Plus his reaction to Terukos soon execution, and Levi bleeding out on the floor from several shot wounds

His ass did NOT cared, he only wanted to make sure Charles is alright, thats suspicious. Wouldnt he be atleast little worried for Teruko ( which he considers a friend ) and then Levi ????

Unless he knows that they will survive this, because he saw it happen before or hes just desensitized from having to watch his classmates / friends die over and over and over and over

10. DAVIDS MV

During Davids MV, during the part where we saw youtube comments, there were comments about antagonist and mastermind, the oldest being from 10 years ago and newest from 1 second ago. That could suggest that noting really changes, like in a time loop, unless SOMEONE aware does something diffrently

11. COLORS..?

This is a strech but id still like to mention it, Whits least fav color is gray because its " boring "

Also MonoTV said that its favorite colors are blue ( Whits eyes ) and yellow ( Whits hair, theyre blonde but blonde is still a shade of yellow )

12. THE WHIT SPRITE

During the frist not sane Whit sprite scene in chapter 2 episode 16, Whit REALLY looks like hes hiding something behind his back

I think if hes the mastermind he has his own remote to activate traps etc. and hes the one who locked the elevator or he tried to open it with his remote and for some reason he couldnt so thats why we got this sprite

And if hes not the mastermind i think he took something out of broken MonoTV / something that fell out of MonoTV when Ace punched it, when cast was distracted with Levi and was just stressed that someone saw him do it or allat didnt happened in previous loops so it took him off guard

#whit time loop #danganronpa despair time #danganronpa: despair time #drdt theory #drdt #whit young #whit time loop theory #time loop #drdt time loop

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | sub!robert fischer x dominatrix!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you're a professional dominatrix, he's a restless heir in desperate need of being put in his place; you both know what this is. it's just your job, it's just his fetish. no reason to make it more complicated than that, right?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), bdsm dynamics, reward/punishment, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral f and m receiving, cnc (meaning he says no but it's not literal, there's a safeword in place for that), angst and fluff at the end, presumably inaccurate depictions of sex work and dominatrix-ing, robert cries. a lot.

You weren’t expecting much when you met him, just another rich boy with daddy issues and an Italian suit.

And… yeah, you were pretty much exactly on the money. The very literal money— Robert was already paying almost double what anybody else was, in order to have a monopoly on your time. But, that said, he still managed to surprise you.

First of all, you were surprised how little experience he really had with this. People tend to ease into paying thousands of dollars for an on-call professional dominatrix; but Robert had the money and impulsive personality necessary to start at the top. It’s like getting a Lambo for your first car… which, to be fair, he had also done. He admitted to you that he’d only had one or two experiences with dominant women and the lifestyle in general: he credited it partially to a need for discretion, that he couldn’t just go to a club with the risk of the wrong people recognizing him and his business being affected. Though that was a fair reason, you knew he was leaving out his own anxiety as a significant factor as well.

Secondly, he surprised you with how well he understood his own needs and limits for someone with such little experience. He explained to you, in rather shameless detail, that he was looking for someone to relinquish emotional control to— that he didn’t need to be really physically tortured, just to be psychologically tormented. In that way, he was less ‘hardcore’ than many of your clients, who had physical damage to show for their time with you by the end of the session, but he was absolutely no wimp. A crybaby, yes, but not a wimp; big difference.

And, perhaps least importantly, he surprised you by being young, and hot. Not, you know, too young, and still older than you, but closer to your age than any of your other clients. As for him being hot, well… yes, he was probably the best-looking of your clients. ‘Probably’ being a polite word for ‘definitely’. Ironically, for being so submissive, he had a somewhat intimidating visage: sharp features, bright and icy eyes, quite tall as well. That was probably what most people saw first, but you were lucky to be able to appreciate completely how delicate he really was: with that pleading wet gaze, his thick bottom lip between his teeth, an unexpected softness to his masculine features.

You were surprised he needed to pay someone for this, looking like that, but then again, his kinks were a bit specific and his need for privacy was understandable. Maybe what all that money really was, was just hush money. After all, truth be told, you probably wouldn't mind doing the rest of it for free.

A friend of yours in the business warned you that that was a sign you needed to stop working for this guy. If you’re catching feelings, get out now, she warned. You tried to assure her it wasn’t feelings— just an acknowledgement that he was absurdly beautiful— but she didn’t seem to buy it; you yourself were starting to doubt that excuse.

But, here you were: usual place, usual time. A lot of your clients preferred hotels, but Robert Fischer found the most discreet method was just to have you come to his penthouse; he had a few properties, but apparently this one was the most secluded. The private elevator certainly gave off that impression.

He’d given you your own key to use, to take you to his place whenever you wanted. Obviously, you only went there when you had an appointment… but you did get a little giddy every time you used it. You got the impression that some small part of him hoped you’d use that key on your own time one day, but that could’ve been you projecting: you tried to remind yourself that he, like all the other clients, probably didn’t think of you much when you were gone.

It was hard to hold up that narrative just a few minutes later, though, as you stood in his bedroom with him on his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much, Mistress,” he mumbled against your skin as he pressed his face to your thigh. “I swear, I haven’t thought about anything else since last time— can we move up to four times a week? Three isn’t enough anymore.”

He was a little more desperate than usual because, even with three sessions a week, this one had been delayed by two days because of his work. Still, he couldn’t quite justify being this worked up when you’d seen him four days ago… “Do you want to talk business, or do you want to play?” you asked him quickly. “Scheduling is best done before or after—”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sighed, looking up at you through his lashes. “Sorry, I just— we can talk about that later. I need you so fucking bad— and you look so pretty…”

You dressed a bit differently for him. Most of your clients wanted latex, leather, chains, studs— you know, the usual. Robert told you from the start he preferred soft things, pretty things. He’d asked if he could buy you things to wear but you insisted on simply billing him for whatever you picked out: anything else was giving him too much power over you. Thankfully, he’d never had an issue with your tastes.

He liked seeing you in relatively ‘normal’ clothes. Little black dresses with lacy pantyhose, silk robes— he actually went a little feral seeing you in a pinstriped three-piece suit once, but that’s another story. Today, you were keeping it classic with a black skirt and blazer, plus stockings with garter belts (his favorite) and your tallest, sharpest heels. Clearly it had the intended effect, since you hadn’t even told him to get on his knees when you walked in…

“Get up,” you told him, and he scrambled onto his feet and gave you a look that barely hid how impatient he was feeling inside. “Actually, I have some business to discuss with you. Take a seat on the bed, why don’t you?”

He tilted his head a bit but did as he was told. He hadn’t even seemed to notice the briefcase you brought— maybe his life was just so full of briefcases he’d learned to ignore them. But you certainly had his attention when you set it down between you and opened the clasps— though you didn’t lift it to reveal its contents yet.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” you informed him flatly. He seemed thrown off— like he couldn’t tell if this was part of the scene or not.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said first, then adding, “what did I do wrong? I’ve been so good…”

“I saw you in the papers.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out the newspaper picture of him, walking along the Manhattan streets with a young woman by his side. She was taller than him with her heels on, overwhelmingly blonde, annoyingly pretty. His eyes went wide at the sight. “Oh—” he began, but you cut him off.

“It’s not right for you to be seeing me when you have a girlfriend,” you explained, pausing before you set down a magazine snapshot of him with a different model, “or two.”

“N-no, wait, I can explain that,” he rushed, but you shoved the pictures aside and leaned forward, sneering at him.

“Is that what you are, huh? Just a slut?” you snapped. “Am I not enough for you?”

“No! God, no— you’re everything,” he whined, “of course. Those are just—”

“Just what? They seem like lovely young women, Mr. Fischer, you don’t need to insult them for my benefit.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” he pouted, looking down— already his cheeks were getting redder. “You’re really mad at me? For being seen with them?”

You knew he was upset you weren’t calling him a pet name, the last thing he wanted to be when you were here was Mr. Fischer— he wanted to be your good boy, your baby, your puppy, your pet. “I’m more concerned about what you did that nobody else saw, Robert,” you admitted.

The last thing you wanted to do was appear jealous— that was never what you would do, or at least, not your character. But one of your rules for Robert was that he was required to be celibate outside of your sessions with him. It was always about control— and he loved the humiliation of being reminded that you worked with other men and slept with whoever you wanted, but that he was doomed to only be yours. He asked you to remind him all the time, whispering in his ear about how he belonged to you, that nobody but you could touch him, that he was just Mistress’ good boy.

“It’s not like that, I swear,” he whined, “they— it was just publicity. For both of us— I mean, for the girls and for me. It’s business!”

“Right,” you returned, not acting especially convinced. One of those photos in the magazine was pretty deliberate— his arm around her waist, whispering something in her ear with a smirk. It certainly didn’t seem like business.

“Please, Mistress, you know I’d never—”

“Do I?” you interrupted sharply. “I mean, after you were so naughty last time—”

“I didn’t mean to come so fast, I was just—”

“How dare you speak over me?” you hissed, and he clamped his mouth shut as his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, ma’am…” he whispered with defeat.

“I’m starting to wonder, what’s stopping you from breaking any of the rules? How do I know you’re really behaving?”

“Y-you know, because…!” he trailed off, eyes darting wildly as he looked for a response. “Because you know how bad I need you. How important you are to me.”

When your heart beat a little faster, you told yourself that he really meant how important these sessions are to me.

Going back to what seemed like his default state, Robert dropped to the floor again, kneeling in front of where you had your legs crossed tensely. Twice now he’d done that without you asking, but you weren’t going to correct him this time because, well… some men were just meant to be on their knees. “I swear, I swear it wasn’t real, was all just for the pictures… I’d never break your rules, Mistress, I wanna be good for you.”

“Want to, yes,” you smirked, “but it takes a lot of willpower, when you could afford as many little playthings as your heart desires.”

You leaned back on your hands as he got more and more desperate, and you fought the urge to smile proudly seeing him panic a bit. He knew that with your hands holding your weight, you wouldn’t be running your fingers through his hair or stroking his cheek… he was getting antsy, still not having been touched by you ten minutes into the session. “Let me show you,” he pleaded, “I promise, I only want you— I-I’ve been waiting for this, for you to touch me again…”

Now, truthfully, you’d believed him when he said those girls were for show— for publicity, as he said. But only now that he said it like that did you really believe how desperate he was. Unfortunately for him, it just made you want to tease him more. “Touch you?” you repeated, egging on his begging.

"Please, touch me," he whined, "please, I'll be so good… I need you, Mistress."

"I know you do, baby, but I don't think you've earned me yet."

“Yes, ma’am— I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. “I know I don’t.”

He looked so sweet, so broken, looking up at you like that. “Why should I touch you at all tonight, baby boy?” you asked sweetly; he rested his forehead on your knee, looking exhausted from his own desperation.

“I… I don’t know if you should,” he admitted, surprising you a bit. “I just know that if you don’t, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

You said nothing, though you couldn’t fight your smile, and he continued softly under his breath.

“I swear, I only want you,” he whispered. “I only ever wanted you.”

“Alright,” you shrugged, “show me how bad you want me.”

Uncrossing your legs, you let him see that your little outfit today didn’t include any panties; as he caught a glimpse up your skirt, his shoulders and chest sunk with a sigh. “Mistress,” he breathed, but a second later he grabbed a tight hold of your legs and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed so he could push up your skirt and dive right in.

He was always ravenous when he did this. It didn’t matter how long it had been since you saw him last, how long you teased him, or if you just walked right in and ordered him to his knees: he always, always ate you out like his life depended on it. He was obsessed with serving you this way, moaning and whimpering against your skin, grabbing weakly at your hips or thighs and sometimes struggling to control his own arousal as his cock throbbed in his trousers.

You were already trying to temper your reactions; if you showed how much you liked it, you’d be surrendering a bit of your dominance, and that couldn’t be allowed. Instead of gasping or moaning his name, you simply hummed and reached down to card your fingers through his hair; he whined against you, even louder when you tugged on it.

“Good boy,” you praised softly, making him shut his eyes tight as he sucked and licked at everything his mouth could reach. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you fought not to let your hips buck against his face. “Very good boy— how much do you like tasting Mistress’ cunt?”

“More than anything,” he answered, taking a break from the main task to kiss and bite hungrily all over your inner thighs. “Fuck, I could taste you forever— you’re so perfect— should I keep going?”

“Of course, baby, just keep looking up at me.”

God, those eyes; sometimes you thought he could look right through you with those. Could he see how hard you were fighting not to lose it right there, not to lay back and order him to fuck you? You wondered if he would— it had never gone that far with him, he was obsessed with the denial, the inequity, the deprivation. To be fair, you didn’t have sex with any of your clients… but you also never thought about sex with any of your clients, other than him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you decided after a few moments, causing him to look up at you with concern like he’d done something wrong.

“I’m not allowed to make you come?” he pouted.

“Not yet,” you said simply. “Get up.”

He popped right up, ready to serve— as always.

“Why don’t you take off your shoes for me?” you encouraged, and he certainly wasted no time; but as he toed his shoes off, he shirked off his jacket, loosening his tie and getting a few buttons of his shirt undone. You raised your eyebrows, frowning at his eagerness. “Stop. I didn’t say all that.”

He slowed to a stop. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, looking away.

“Lay on the bed.”

You watched patiently as he did, sitting up beside him but not getting too close. He looked nice mostly-dressed, his suit half-removed and a bit disheveled. You’d made him strip completely before, adding to his vulnerability, but you thought there were benefits to this too: by wearing his work clothes, you were reminding him of the man he was supposed to be while treating him like the needy boy he really was. Whether or not he noticed that irony, he shuddered when you gently brushed your hand over his bulge, which flexed as if trying to ask for more itself.

“Look how hard you got for me, just from eating me out,” you noticed proudly.

“Tastes so good,” he whimpered his excuse, biting his lip when you started to open his belt and trousers. “Y-you’re sure I deserve it?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I think it might be fun to touch you a little. You want me to, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, of course,” he rushed, just as emphatic as ever.

He keened and bucked up into your hand when you just barely touched his cock; you pulled away, giving him a stern look as a reminder not to move too much. When he settled down, you gently reached into his boxers again and freed his aching cock. There was a little precum at the tip already, and he was looking at you with fascination as you delicately touched him, but never properly gripped or stroked it just to keep him on edge a little more.

“How long has it been since anyone but me touched you like this, baby boy?” you wondered.

“Y-years,” he choked, “years— I don’t even touch myself anymore, I swear.”

You gently ran your fingers over the ridge of the head, making him shudder and writhe on the bed. “Are you sure? You didn't even jerk off after feeling up that lovely young lady in the magazine?"

"No— and I didn't— c'mon, Mistress, don't you believe me?" he choked. "I'm your good boy, you know I am— love being yours…"

“So you really don’t touch yourself?”

“No!” he snapped, correcting his tone a moment later. “No, I… I stopped when you told me to.”

"Well, how about you show me how you used to do it?" you encouraged with a grin, taking your hand away from him. "Stroke your cock for me, puppy."

"No, please," he gasped, "I want you to— please, I'm sorry—"

"Stop fucking whining and do what I tell you," you sneered. "Not such a good boy after all, are you?"

He suddenly scrambled to get his hand around his cock when you put it like that, groaning and biting his lip as he gripped himself tightly. "Like this, Mistress?" he panted proudly.

"Mm, something like that," you cooed. "But go a little slower, baby boy, we've got plenty of time."

His eyes got wide with fear— fear that you would really make him edge himself the whole time. You had much bigger plans, though.

He found a rhythm: not horribly slow, but careful and precise. His cheeks kept getting pinker as you watched him, and he once reached out to touch your thigh with his free hand, but you moved away.

“C’mon,” he begged quickly, “can I just… can I at least see…?”

“See what?”

“Y-your tits, maybe,” he asked shyly, stroking his cock faster already at just the thought.

“I don’t think you need to see my tits,” you accused, noticing that his cock was already flexing in his grip. He really had been worked up, if he was this sensitive to just his own hand. “You’re doing just fine, baby.”

He grunted but went on, shifting around on the bed slightly.

“A little faster now,” you told him. “When you used to jerk off like this, before you met me, did you imagine while you did it? Did you watch porn?”

“Yes— I mean, imagine, always; porn sometimes,” he answered.

“What kind of porn?”

“Uh… this kind,” he admitted with a small laugh. When you heard that laugh, saw the self-effacing smile on his face, you suddenly thought again about what your friend said: if you’re catching feelings, get out now. But you shook the thought from your mind.

“Do you miss it? Being able to get yourself off?” you pressed.

“Fuck no,” he grunted, and you caught the way his cock bobbed in his hand— he was getting even closer, poor thing. “Don’t even— don’t want to now, but… but I’m trying so hard to be good for you…”

“I know,” you offered with a sympathetic, yet condescending, pout as you leaned in and caressed his face for a second. Just that seemed to push him even closer, and he struggled to keep his hips down again.

“I— fuck, I’m close,” he finally admitted. “I’ll come…”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

"Oh, please, please don't make me come," he whimpered. "I— I don't wanna come like this…"

You tilted your head. "Like what, puppy?"

"I want… I want you to touch me…" he pouted, eyes welling up a bit.

"We agreed you don't deserve that, Robert," you said sternly.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed— and there were real tears, he was obviously devastated that he had let you down so much. "I'll do anything, I swear— let me be your good boy, your puppy— Mistress, I just wanna be yours again…"

You slapped him hard on the thigh when you saw his hand start to falter. "Don't slow down," you snapped. "I want you to keep going— keep stroking your poor cock, don't fucking stop until I tell you."

"But I— I'm so close," he choked.

"That's not my fault," you chuckled. "You're a pathetic whiny baby who comes too quick, that's not really my problem."

He bit his shaking lip and blinked through his tears, hips beginning to buck up into his own hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over, "I didn't mean to be bad, I promise… only ever wanted t-to be your good boy…"

Feeling just a little sympathetic, you leaned in closer to speak beside his ear. "Is my good boy gonna come if I tell him to?"

Though he hesitated, he nodded.

"But you don't want to?"

He shook his head.

"Because you want me to touch you when you come, right?" you pressed, your voice just as soft as your touch while you gently ran your hand up his leg. He whimpered and squirmed, his eyes getting a bit wide. "You want me to make you come?"

"Yes! Please, fuck, please, Mistress…" he gasped.

You rubbed his inner thigh as he stroked himself faster; you could see his cock flexing, and you knew he was trying so hard not to come right then. Deciding to test him further, you let your fingers run over his swollen balls, and he choked on his own throat. "Bet these are so full of come for me," you purred.

"Yes, Mistress," he hissed.

"Stop moving your hand," you ordered suddenly, and for a man who'd been begging you to let him stop, he took a second to do it— his hand faltered a little as he slowed down, and he ended up holding his cock much too tight… surely trying to hold himself back from coming still. "You wanted me to touch you, didn't you?"

"Yes," he gasped, eyes getting wide with hope. "Yes! Please, Mistress! I swear I'll be good…"

"Then let go of your cock and let me take care of you, baby," you cooed. Again, he took a second to do it— still trying to make sure he wouldn't come when he wasn't choking the life out of it. Hissing as he let go, he dropped his head back with the sweetest moan as you gave him one slow stroke from the base to the tip. "Good job, baby," you whispered to him, "you're my good boy, aren't you?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his exposed neck, and nodded hastily.

When his cock twitched in your hand, you figured it was just because he was so sensitive— but then, halfway into your second stroke, he gasped and suddenly began to come. You noticed it in his face first, the way he scrunched his nose and let out a low groan; then there was hot, sticky come shooting over his chest and stomach— and ruining that nice white shirt.

You pulled your hand away instantly, giving his face the hardest slap you could; he cried out in pain, but he just kept coming and bucking his hips into nothing.

"You pathetic, stupid boy!" you scolded, and he groaned. "I gave you one stroke, and you came?!”

You said it in past tense, but he was still coming, whining through his teeth and blinking quickly with those long lashes of his. He looked so sweet— but you knew that he knew he was utterly fucked. “I-I’m sorry,” he breathed, groaning one more time and going limp onto the bed beneath him as his cock gave one more weak flex. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m sorry…”

You watched him pant for a moment, almost losing your train of thought when you saw just how pretty he was.

Unfortunately for him, it gave you an interesting idea.

Loosening his tie, you slipped it off around his head; he blinked his eyes open and scrunched up his brows with confusion. “What are you…?” he asked, though he seemed to figure it out when you gave him a certain look: he instantly held out his wrists for you, and you smiled proudly.

You didn’t just tie them together, though— you tied them to the headboard, keeping his hands bound above his head as you grinned and leaned down over him. “What am I gonna do with you, puppy?” you cooed in a sweet-but-concerning way.

Chuckling nervously, he answered, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You ran one finger over his cock, following the line a final drop of come had left down the shaft, and he hissed in a breath through his teeth. “So sensitive,” you noticed; he tensed up, like he was catching on.

When you licked a stripe up his shaft with the tip of your tongue, his gaze darkened and his mouth went slack. “I— I don’t—” he stammered, clearly conflicted with his desire for you and his fleeting logic telling him this was going to hurt. “I don’t think I can… take it…”

You’d never done this to him before, but you couldn’t stop yourself: looking up at his flushed face to see his reaction, you enveloped his head with your lips.

He let out a high, desperate moan as you suckled his swollen tip; “M-Mistress, fuck, I— oh my god—”

You looked up at him, but his head was tilted back too far to see you. You slid your mouth down further, stroking his base with your hand, until you were gagging on him and he was writhing beneath you wildly.

“Oh my god, fuck! Fuck, fuck— I… god your mouth is warm…”

You pulled off of him, partially to give him a bit of a break and partially so you could keep talking to him. Then again, it wasn’t much of a break since you kept stroking him, letting your spit and his come smooth your movements, sure to focus on that poor overstimulated tip. “It’s not too much for you, is it? My good boy can take it, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he promised, though he didn’t sound that confident. It sounded like what he really meant was I’m gonna try my best to take it.

“And aren’t you so thankful that Mistress is so nice to you, sucking your cock even though you don’t deserve it?”

“Fuck, of course,” he panted, “thank yo—oh fuck, fuck—”

You threw him off by taking him down as far as you could in the middle of his sentence, but he still had his manners.

“Thank you!” he yelped, starting to shudder more violently. “Th-thank you, so much, fuck, you’re perfect—”

When you pulled off again, he sighed with relief yet followed your mouth with a buck of his hips. “Does it hurt, or does it feel good?” you wondered.

“I— it’s— both,” he choked.

“I bet you wished I would suck your cock someday, didn’t you?” you pressed, and he instantly nodded and whined through his teeth as you licked all over the tip with a wide tongue. He gasped as you licked right over the slit.

“Fuck, I did— god, I— oh…”

Poor thing couldn’t get many words out in a row, he kept losing it every time you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue. And then you gave his balls a firm squeeze, and he made a sound you thought you might’ve never heard him make before.

“Mistress, please, please,” he begged breathlessly, moaning louder as you bobbed your head up and down. You couldn’t tell if he was begging for more or for relief, and honestly, you expected he didn’t know either.

You kept going for a few more minutes of that before his cries of pain got a little too intense— then you pulled away, and replaced your mouth with a hand stroking him as fast as you could. He still sobbed, of course, and dropped his head back again between his restrained arms.

“Fuck, s’too much,” he breathed, “just slow down…”

“I can’t, sweet boy— I need you to come again for me,” you encouraged.

“I— fuck, Mistress— I—” he stammered, and you could tell he was trying to stop himself from saying I can’t. He couldn’t bear to disappoint you twice.

“Can you do that for me, baby?” you cooed, making him look at you with the widest, wettest eyes. “Can you show me you’re still my good boy?”

“F-fuck, yes, okay,” he panted, “I’ll… I’ll come for you, just don’t stop, please…”

“I won’t stop, puppy, not until we’ve got every drop of come out of you,” you promised.

He should’ve known you took ‘every drop’ very seriously. Though he came after just another minute of stroking him like this, you still didn’t stop. When he cried out and tugged on his own tie holding him down, you didn’t stop. “Fuck!” he yelped. “Please, I can’t— I can’t!”

“Shh, yes you can,” you encouraged, though your free hand holding him down by the neck did more to keep him in place. “C’mon, be my good boy, gimme one more.”

He kept trying to squirm away, though, and his wrists were pulling hard on that necktie— he was probably going to ruin it.

“Stop fighting so much,” you warned him firmly. “Just be my good boy and fucking take it, come on— the fuck are you good for if you can’t do what I tell you to?”

“S-sorry,” he barely managed to get out, you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of his feet kicking all over the satin sheets.

“You don’t wanna get in trouble, do you? Don’t you wanna show me you know how to do what you’re told?” you kept taunting him, glancing down and seeing how red and weepy his cock was getting— you knew he wasn’t much further off from coming again.

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’m sorry,” he spoke hoarsely through the pressure you were putting on his neck.

“The sooner you come, the sooner it stops, puppy,” you informed him, gripping his cock even tighter as he hissed in breaths through his teeth. “Just come for me one more time…”

All he could do was lick his lips and nod; you let go of his neck, wanting to hear every broken moan he made. With his eyes shut tight and his nose scrunched up, he finally came with a long and wavering grunt— that was what you were waiting for, the sound of total relief. You slowed your movements down to a stop, smiling as you watched his cock give just two small pumps of come that dripped onto the ends of his shirt… it flexed weakly a few more times after that, but clearly he was beyond spent.

“Good job,” you praised softly, “you did so good for me… look what a mess you made…”

If you were feeling really mean you’d make him clean that all up, but something told you it was best to stop now… that ‘something’ being your watch. You’d stayed twenty minutes late and you were probably going to piss off your next client by being significantly tardy, especially considering you had to change first; you hoped you could chalk it up to some mindfuck dominance thing, walk in and say Mistress is never late, I always get here when I want to, if you were sitting around waiting for me that just shows how pathetic you are or something.

As you thought about that, you reached up and released the tie around Robert’s hands; he didn’t jump to rub his wrists, or flex his fingers into fists to bring some feeling back. He just let them fall limply at either side of him.

Though it was a small difference, it worried you— as did his silence. Normally he was all over you with praises by now, thanking you for everything, telling you he couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Was it a good session?” you asked him gently, letting him know it was over— he didn’t need to ‘perform’ anymore. You still felt like you needed to, though.

He worried you with the continued silence, though, just catching his breath and keeping his eyes shut; just when you thought you might check again that he was okay, he nodded quickly and hoarsely insisted, “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Not too much for you?” you asked nervously, watching him shake his head— but his lip was shaking, too. He was still crying, and you could tell it wasn’t like the whiny tears from before: he was holding back from bursting into sobs. You interrupted the silence with a whispered Robert? and he collapsed; folding in on himself, he curled into a ball on the bed and shook as he cried. Your eyes went wide as you realized you were absolutely in over your head.

Aftercare was generally not part of the deal. Most of your clients didn’t want it— they preferred to process whatever they needed to alone, after you left— and the rest just had to suck it up, though they never made much of a fuss. This felt like a real situation, and you felt guilty leaving now, but worried you’d only make it worse or break your own rules if you intervened somehow.

“I’m gonna give you some time,” you offered as you sat up— like ditching him now was a courtesy. Of course, as you expected (from him, specifically), he reached out for you.

“Please stay,” he begged— still heavily in his submissive mindset, it seemed, and sniffling pathetically. “Please, please—”

“Your time’s up,” you informed him flatly.

“Anything,” he whimpered, “name your price.”

“It’s— it’s not about the money, Robert,” you sighed. “It’s just unprofessional.”

“But I need you,” he breathed, and your heart twisted. “You can’t leave me like this, I just— I just need you to—”

Relenting, you sat back down on the bed; he instantly wrapped his arms around you, buried his face in your chest, and pulled you down with him.

Though it took you a moment, you went ahead and wrapped your arms around him in return, hoping to soothe him. “I’m sorry,” he said, though you struggled to make it out at first until he kept repeating it.

“It’s okay,” you replied softly, rubbing his back and looking down at the mess of brown hair shaking with each sob. “It’s okay, baby, you did really good… I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to go very hard on you, I mean, I’ve made you come a lot more than that before.”

“Not that,” he choked, finally pulling his face up to let you see and hear him better. Your heart broke seeing how overwhelmed he really was. “I just… I really don’t wanna disappoint you…”

In retrospect, maybe you should’ve known it would be too much for him— or maybe it was something about today, it just hit the wrong way, you couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter, in the end.

You sat up a bit, and he followed you, as you sighed and held his face.

“Robert, I was just— that wasn’t real,” you promised. “I needed something, you know, to work with. I just wanted you to prove your loyalty— I was never angry with you.”

“I know,” he croaked, though he was calming a bit already, “I know that, but I— it felt like it. Nobody else tells me what I’m supposed to do, you know— only you do that. I need that. Then I can know I’m doing what I’m supposed to… you’re the only person I can’t let down.”

Biting your lip for a second, you reached out to touch his chest through the half-unbuttoned shirt, but he pulled away suddenly.

“I know what this is,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit more normal again— almost clinical, actually. “I know this is your job.”

“Well… yeah,” you mumbled; obviously he knew that. You tried to understand what he was really saying to you.

“I know… none of it’s real,” he added, looking away.

Gently, you turned his face back to yours, wiping a tear from his cheek with your thumb. “I really am proud of you,” you whispered, moving closer to him on the bed.

He held your face, then, too; and he put his other hand on your waist, moving even closer to you. “Please…” he began, and though the word was overwhelmingly familiar, you were sure you’d never heard him say it like that before. “Please, let me kiss you.”

You kissed him first, feeling one more tear roll down his face as he pulled you closer and pressed your body to his.

The kiss was soft at first, still a little teary; the way he held you was incredibly tender but with a lightly-suppressed neediness behind it… his fingers would tighten at your waist sometimes and you could tell he wanted to just force you against him. You’d let him, if he wanted to, but he was probably too weak after all that.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching to hold onto his shoulders and squeeze them. “I’m so sorry, baby—”

“No,” he breathed against your lips, barely stopping the kiss to speak, “no— no, you’re perfect—”

“Stop it,” you mumbled, pushing him away slightly. “I’m not. I fucked up. I went too hard on you.”

“I— I could’ve safeworded, I just didn’t… I don’t know,” he shook his head before leaning it onto your shoulder. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

You laughed a little as you combed your fingers through his hair, letting your nails gently scratch his scalp. “No, I just get paid to call you pathetic. You’re so strong…”

“No, I’m not,” he promised, his voice oddly firm and stable for how weepy the words could’ve come off. “I’m not— not even strong enough to… to end this.”

You froze up, looking at him with wide eyes as he pulled his face up close to yours.

“It’s not right anymore,” he whispered to you, cradling your cheek in his palm; god, his hands were warm. “You know it, don’t you? You can tell. You can tell I broke the fucking rules.”

“Don’t tell me, after all this bullshit,” you managed to laugh bitterly, “you really are dating one of those fucking models— or both—”

“Not that rule, fuck,” he coughed, “no— I fucking fell for you.”

You blinked quickly, forcing yourself to believe you misheard him. “You—?”

“I fell in love with you.”

“No— Robert, you don’t even know me,” you insisted, looking away.

“I want to! God, I want to,” he groaned, “it’s all I think about: what you must be like when you’re not, you know, on the clock. What turns you on, what ticks you off, what… fuck, what you eat for breakfast! Anything.”

“Then you don’t love me,” you informed him, “you love the idea. You love the… mystery. You don’t really want to know me, I promise.”

“You don’t love a mystery because you want it to stay that way,” he laughed, rubbing your shoulders— only then did you notice your own eyes were getting teary. You really didn’t want him to see you that way, but you didn’t have much choice now. “You love a mystery because you can’t wait to get to the ending and figure it all out! I just wanna know you— you’re a page-turner.”

“Okay, the metaphor is a little tired now,” you rolled your eyes, but you sniffled and tried to hide your face.

“Hey,” he whispered, petting your head, toying with your hair for a moment with his fingers. “I know you can’t keep going on with me, now that I said that. I know this is gonna have to be goodbye. But I… I think goodbye is still less painful than having to be this close to you but so far away. I’m sorry… I thought I was strong enough for this.”

Get out now. Get out now. The advice echoed in your head. If you’re catching feelings, get out now and definitely do not tell him you’re falling for him too— no don’t you fucking dare bitch— “It’s not goodbye,” you blurted out. “I’m not strong enough for that.”

When you dared to look at him, his eyes were full of hope.

“God, you look fucked up,” you noticed with a laugh, your eyes scanning his ruined suit. “C’mon, let’s get you in the bath.”

There was plenty of room in this bathtub, more than any one person could need— plenty for you to have your own space. But, of course, Robert kept you close to him, your chest against his back as he ran his hands over your skin under the water.

“For breakfast? I don’t know, I guess I have toast a lot, if I remember it,” you chuckled. “My mornings are pretty busy.”

“Any pet peeves?” he asked.

“Uh, people who don’t use earbuds on public transport,” you decided.

“Ah,” he nodded. “That sounds irritating. I, um, haven’t been on public transport…”

You rolled your eyes, but you giggled, too.

“If you could only wear one color for the rest of your life, what would it be?” he prompted.

You turned over, splashing the water a bit, so you could look up at him. “Is this interrogation ever gonna end? The water’s getting cold.”

“Well, so far, the more I know, the more I wanna know, so…” he trailed off. “Guess we’re gonna be in here ‘til I solve the mystery, hm?”

You laughed, but he pulled you into another kiss— more energetic than before, but still sweet, still a little hungry. When you pulled back, he leaned in and kissed your neck instead. “I think we could be here all night and still have a lot left to cover,” you warned him.

“I can afford all night,” he shrugged.

As tempted as you were to take him up on that, you had to accept that that element of the arrangement was over now. “I’m not gonna charge you,” you admitted, making him break away from your skin to look up at you. “You wanted to learn what I’m like off the clock, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling you a little closer until you straddled his lap in the water. “I wanna learn whatever I can.”

“Well, here’s something you should’ve figured out a lot sooner,” you offered, running your fingers over his jaw until you gently held his chin, making him look up at you with this sweet, pouty, needy look on his face. “I fell for you, too.”

#whoops how did feelings get in there?#not sure how that happened #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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wish-i-were-heather · 6 months ago

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A FOOL FOR YOU PT 4⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2642 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

STORY: well, y'know. you can't ignore a 911 text from a hawthorne

WARNINGS: none really, reader does struggle to swim tho and freaks out a little

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @ravishinglyliving @maybxlle - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: EEK I LOVED WRITING THIS. i didn't describe the reader's swimsuit because i don't know what everyone is comfortable with so i let you kinda imagine it however u want! i'm not sure how many more parts i can get out of this idea, there'll definitely be at least one more lmk what u think tho

He said please.

Grayson didn’t lack manners. It’s not that he didn’t know how to say please and thank you. But he also wasn’t the kind of person to throw around a plea lightly. Grayson Hawthorne was, well, a Hawthorne. The name itself was a demand, not requiring a please. But he’d felt the need to say please to you.

Maybe you were overthinking it.

Or maybe you were still in denial, like Avery said you were.

The texts came in at eight at night, too, which only raised more questions in your mind. If he wanted to talk to you, why hadn’t he just found you? Or simply texted you to meet somewhere? You didn’t understand why he’d felt the need to use the 911; you would’ve come if he’d just told you to go to the pool.

Hawthornes did tend to have a flare for dramatics, you supposed.

You had no idea why Grayson wanted you to meet him at the pool. He was a swimmer, sure, but that was very much his personal time. Grayson didn’t often appreciate people watching or joining him in the pool. But, you figured there was a chance he expected you to.

So you found yourself at her door again. Despite the faint conversation you could hear from inside, you knocked.

Avery took longer than last time to open the door. “What’s up?” She asked.

“Hey. Uh, do you have a swimsuit I could borrow?”

She frowned slightly, confused. “I mean I do, yeah, but why-”

You didn’t even have to say anything. You just showed her your phone screen with the text messages. Her eyes widened as she read them and she immediately opened the door wider for you. “Get the hell in here.”

Avery was already digging through the grand dresser. As you entered the room behind her, you noticed Jameson sitting on the floor in front of a deck of cards, giving you a curious look. “What-”

“Not now, Jamie,” Avery quickly answered. “Girl problem.”

That shut him up.

“Don’t mind him,” she told you, turning back around with a few items in hand. “We were just playing solitaire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Together? Isn’t that a one player game?”

“His idea, not mine. Managed to turn it into a competition too, somehow,” Avery shrugged. Jameson gasped dramatically but she continued before he could speak, bringing your attention back to why you asked for help. “So, I’ve actually never worn this one before, you could keep it if you want. Or-”

“That one’s fine,” you interrupted, taking it from her. “Can I change in your bathroom?” “Oh, uh, yeah, sure I guess,” Avery answered, clearly confused as to why you were so quick to answer. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get there as soon as I can. Thanks.”

You didn’t change completely, just putting it on and putting your clothes back on over it. You didn’t plan on getting into the water, but it was worth being prepared.

As you were stepping out of the room and thanking Avery, Jameson called, “Say hi to Gray for me.”

Your head snapped back. “What?”

“Come on,” he smirked. “He’s practically the only person who uses the pool, especially at this time. So tell him I said hi.”

Shaking your head, you just ignored him. Jameson was the type of person who could read people well, so odds are he probably already knew he was right. But you didn’t want to give even more of a reaction to him than you already had.

Avery grabbed your arm though, before you left. “Hey, hey, good luck.”

You thanked her and left, just hoping Jameson wouldn’t try to watch from the window.

The cool night air hit you sharply as you stepped outside. It hadn’t been too chilly during the day, but you now found yourself wishing you were in more than just shorts and a thin hoodie.

Shivering, you made your way over to the pool. Your mind was racing the whole way there, but there wasn’t really anything else for you to be wondering. Grayson had asked for you to come to the pool, presumably either to swim with him or just because he was most comfortable there. Either way, it was pretty clear that he wanted to discuss what happened when he was drunk. But you still didn’t understand why he sent the 911.

Good thing you were on your way to finding out.

The pool deck was empty, save for a few lounge chairs. The fancy cushioned kind, the ones you would only find at a hotel. And the Hawthorne mansion, of course.

On one of the chairs were two neatly folded towels- two. So he did expect you to get in the water with him? Where was he anyway? If he’d already brought out towels, why wasn’t he-

Splash.

You’d been too caught up in your thoughts and the sound of your heart racing in your chest to realize that Grayson was, in fact, already in the pool. Swimming laps because he was Grayson Hawthorne, so of course he was swimming laps when the sun had already set and the only light in the sky was that of the stars.

Swimming had never really been your thing, so you didn’t know the exact stroke, but you would’ve been a liar if you said you weren't somewhat mesmerized. The way his arms went up and out, the way his fingers glided along the surface before entering the water once again. His legs kicked together, the movement fast and almost indiscernible under the blue of surrounding him.

Grayson came up for air so quickly you couldn’t even make out his face, but your eyes caught on the way his hair flicked up with his head. It was certainly a skill, and he managed it so gracefully. You struggled to look away.

Thankfully, you were pulled out of your stare when he suddenly reached the wall nearest to you. Grayson’s hands touched the edge of the pool in perfect sync. You could see the red in his face, the tire he was giving himself from swimming. You wondered how long he’d been there before you found him.

Grayson met your eyes with a tired smile as he caught his breath. “You came.”

“You said 911,” you explained, sitting on the edge of the chair where he’d set the towels. “I figured it was pretty important.”

“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “We do only get one of those a year, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to any of my brothers.”

“Got it.”

He was avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Would you like to join me?”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

Was he really just going to ignore the fact that he’d sent you such an urgent message? A 911 could’ve meant he was dying, for all you knew when you’d first received it. And what, it was because he wanted to go for a swim with you? There was more he wasn’t saying and you just wanted to yell at him to spit it out.

Instead, you responded calmly.

“Join you in the pool?”

Grayson looked you up and down and shook his head. “I suppose you can’t really, not without proper swimwear.”

You got in the pool in a suit when you were drunk, you didn’t say.

“I have a bathing suit on under this,” you explained. “I just… why do I need to get in the water? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath.

“I’ve decided I owe you an apology. For what happened.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. “I was reckless and foolish and unintentionally put the burden of myself onto you. It would have been easier for you to just leave me be, but you dealt with my mess. I appreciate that.”

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the gentle lapping of the pool.

“See why I figured you should get in?” He asked. “We’d be at an even level. Better suited for such a conversation.”

“Or you could just get out,” you offered.

“Please?”

That word again.

Grayson Hawthorne knew what he was doing.

“Fine,” you groaned, but really only half annoyed. You turned around as you began to take off the layers above the swimsuit, watching him in the corner of your eye as he looked away respectfully.

The cold hit you even harder now that you had removed your hoodie, and you hoped that the pool was well heated.

“Okay, okay.” You began walking over to the edge of the pool where Grayson was. When his eyes found you, he stared for a little longer than normal before answering.

“You’re nervous,” he observed. “Can you swim?”

You shrugged, taking another step closer. “I know how to stop myself from drowning.”

Grayson moved out of your way and you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet getting wet. It was heated, thankfully. Comfortably so. No wonder he loved to come here at night.

He was watching you silently. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was killing you. Not that anyone could ever tell what Grayson Hawthorne hid behind those piercing eyes, but yet another question amidst everything that had happened that week was too much.

Of course he’s a mystery, he’s a Hawthorne.

Before you could overthink it even further, you got in.

The warmth of the water enveloped you, contrasting greatly with the chill of the night air. You were holding onto the wall, not planning on letting go because your swimming skills were just barely above that of a child starting swim lessons. But Grayson’s intense gaze kept your heart racing.

He swam towards you, grabbing onto the wall a little closer but still leaving a respectful distance between you. “Do you know why I sent the 911?”

“No,” you admitted. “It scared me.”

“I apologize for that. I panicked.”

You hadn’t expected that confession from him.

“You panicked?”

He nodded slowly. “I was afraid you’d think less of me after how I acted. You haven’t spoken to me in days, so I wasn’t sure you’d come otherwise.” The vulnerability in his voice was tangible.

“It’s not that I’ve been trying to avoid you, Grayson,” you explained. “I just… I mean, you haven’t spoken to me either.”

“I thanked you, I thought we were past what happened. I didn’t think we needed to talk about it.”

“You thanked me and then flirted and walked away.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”

“You know very well what you did,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your face.

He swam a little closer. His voice dropped to the same sincere tone it had adopted back when he was drunk. When you’d told him to be careful and he’d cupped your face. When he said he’d never hurt you, never.

“Perhaps I do. But that doesn’t change the fact that I burdened you with my drunk self.”

“You’re not a burden, Grayson,” you told him, also pushing yourself closer to him along the wall. “It was no problem, really. Just a little entertaining.”

He chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or bitter.

The way he was looking at you was making you feel something. Something you couldn’t name but… didn’t quite hate. You started to move yourself a little closer to him until-

Splash.

Your hand slipped off the edge of the pool, accidentally sending you back. Not exceptionally far or deep into the pool, but enough to make you panic. You could keep yourself afloat, sure, but not when you were suddenly pushed away from the only solid thing keeping your head above water.

But before you could fully let the panic set in, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you upwards.

The sensation of being lifted was disorienting. You were overwhelmed by the sudden rush of water and movement, then the lack of water as your head reached the surface again. Even if you’d barely been below the water for a few seconds, you found yourself gasping for air.

Grayson’s arm around you was the only steady thing in the chaos.

“Hey, hey” Grayson spoke, and it took a moment for your startled mind to process the words. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to focus. It took a moment for your breathing to calm down, but you helped yourself by rationalizing it; you’d been under the water for maybe five seconds, there was no need to panic so much.

The shock had just gotten you.

His voice broke through again, focusing your vision and hearing on him. “Just breathe, in and out. Nice and slow, just like that.”

You followed his instructions, taking deep breaths. Your panic began to fade, and you became painfully aware of how close he now was to you, the proximity at which he held you.

Grayson didn’t let go as you calmed down, simply keeping you tucked protectively in his arm as if the water was threatening you. He used his free hand to reach up and brush a wet strand of hair from your face behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle, so careful, that you felt your heart flutter.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thank you.”

He only nodded in return, his usually sharp gray eyes beginning to soften as he stared down at you. He didn’t move his hand away after moving the hair out of your face. It stayed there, lingering around your ear, until he decided to move down, cupping your face.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first time that shirtless Grayson Hawthorne was holding your face in his large hands and looking at you in a way that was more than an annoyed glance.

But it felt different this time. More intense, more real.

He wasn’t drunk, not hungover; there was no doubt in your mind that he really meant everything. His eyes were still locked on yours with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place, yet somehow felt deep within your core.

He leaned forward, so close to you that your foreheads were almost touching. His eyes fluttered shut and you realized what was happening only after you felt the words he whispered against your lips-

“I’m sorry.”

Grayson closed the small gap between you, gently pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, like he was giving you the chance to pull away or tell him to stop. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into the kiss, the arm around you tightened.

Your hands moved on their own, both sliding their way up to rest on his chest. He responded to your touch with a low hum that made you shiver despite the heated pool.

His arm moved up to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, like he was trying to express every emotion he’d been hiding for the past week. It was overwhelming, and for a moment nothing existed outside of you and Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes closed. Grayson placed a small kiss on your forehead before resting it against his own. You were so close now, much closer than before, but that didn’t matter anymore.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted softly.

“Me too, Grayson,” you grinned. “Me too.”

When he kissed you again, he tasted like those stupid cherries he loved and felt like the end of the world.

#grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson x reader #the inheritance games #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the brothers hawthorne #tig #tig fanfic #tgg #mightier than your sword𓂃🖋

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sundaynightlive · 2 years ago

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Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

“Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #hellfire club #blorbos #soft #we all deserve someone who makes us soft #don’t we?#gay #lgbtq #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb

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jazzythursday · 2 years ago

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Wylan leaves in the morning.

He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.

Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.

He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.

So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.

It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.

He knows it can’t last.

Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.

He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.

He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.

Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.

Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.

Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.

So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.

And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.

They’d met in a tavern.

Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.

So far, he’d only come up with the one.

Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.

Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”

Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.

Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”

And that's how he’d met Jesper.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.

“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”

Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.

Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”

Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.

“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.

“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”

Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.

It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.

But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.

And it was nice.

It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.

Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.

Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.

Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.

Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.

So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.

#wesper #inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng #wesper drabble #wesper ficlet #wesper fanfic #wylan hendriks #wylan van eck #jesper fehey #shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone fanfiction #Jazzy writes #jazzy writes fanfic #a drabble for your troubles?

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rayaswrittings · 1 year ago

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Dirty little secret

Pairing: Fathers best friend!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have a little to much fun celebrating your birthday, and the man you often caught yourself fantasizing about was the one to take you home.

Warning(s): Mature language, use of alcohol, Corruption kink, DOM!Geto, Praise kink, 15 year!age gap, unprotected p in v, degradation, cr*ampie, f!ngering, marking, mentions of blood, semi public??? This smut is LONG

Saturday nights were usually days where Geto would relax and take a break from anything outside, but for today, he had to make an exception just for you.

Suguru Geto was your father’s best friend and right hand man when it came to anything business related. You grew up knowing him as one of the people you looked up to, but sometimes you couldn’t help but think about why that was.

As you got older, you’d catch yourself staring at the older man way more then usual. You’d notice when his hair was washed fresh and new, or when he cut his hair and gained the smallest amount of muscle. Your mind had memorized every scar from previous battles that scattered his skin, and you knew how many chisels he had on his chest. You never realized how good looking he had been till you grew up.

As for Suguru, ever since you’d turned 21, he had his eyes glued to you and the way you were. Just like you, he’d find himself staring at your hips when you’d sit down and how they outlined your perfect hourglass body, or the way your hair touched the small of your back. He’d often take you fighting with him and that only made it worse, seeing the way your body moved when you pulled back from your enhanced reflexes or even just stretched.

It was safe to say the two of you had the most forbidden feeling toward one another, and it made both of you feel so terrible.

Tonight was your 23rd birthday and of course you decided to share it with friends and family in an open area within Tokyo. Most of the other jujutsu sorcerer’s had went but there were also people you knew who couldn’t go, having to tend to duties or watch their children since your party was definitely an adult only type of event. Your father was one of them, out running a search and rescue with a few other men while you celebrated without him.

It bothered you at first but you couldn’t think of anything else other then the drinks you had downed over the course of the night. You’d danced with many guys, sung with your friends, and even made a toast to which your very drunk words barely let you finish. It was safe to say you were the most drunk you’d ever been.

And Suguru saw that.

“Having fun, Kid?” He asks, approaching you. Your conversation was cut short by the deep voice behind you, your laughing coming to an end as you turn to the familiar face with a smile.

“Geto! Your here!” You threw your arms around his large torso making him let out a small grunt, holding up your drunken body that so easily gave into his touch. “Thought you’d never show” Your friends are watching you with a smirk on their faces, eyes on the man above you that they so obviously thought was attractive as well. After all, he was Suguru Geto.

He frowns, excusing the two of you from your friend group before bringing you away from the crowd, gently pulling you off of him. “You’re trashed, aren’t you?” You giggle and shake your head, taking another sip of the cup that was in your hand.

“N-no! This—this is water!” You argue, holding it up to show him. He only sighs at you, reaching to take it but you quickly pulled it back, shaking your head. “I promise, Suguru! What’s the difference? It’s my birthday, you know?”

“I do know, and your shitfaced, Y/N. It’s time to get you home” He reaches for your drink again, this time being able to grab hold on it but not without your retaliation. “I’m really not trying to-“ Just then, the alcohol spilled all over you. Both of your hands drop the glass once you let out a gasp and look down to watch it run down your body. Your clothing was now drenched, dripping with liquid all the way down your legs.

“Are you happy! Now my clothes are wet and I don’t even have a drink” Geto doesn’t miss how you sniffle, kneeling down to see if the glass was broken which it so clearly was. He sighs and walks over to your helpless body, lifting you up gently so you wouldn’t stumble into it. “I was just having fun!”

“I know, pretty girl. I know” He thumbs away the preexisting tears that slipped down your cheeks before kneeling down, lifting you into his arms. “I’m gonna take you home, alright? Get you cleaned up, your gonna feel so much better” His voice is soothing against your ear and you can’t help but nod, closing your eyes to rid you of the spinning feeling inside your head.

You’re relaxed as the man carries you through the streets of Tokyo, staring up at his features that you noticed never drastically changed since he was younger. His skin was glowing in the moonlight above you, and his eyes were big trying to find your home in the dark. You giggle at his frustrated expression, reaching up to touch his face.

“You look pretty, Sorry for screaming at you” Your apology makes him chuckle and his eyes are suddenly back on you, watching as a smile crept up to your lips. “I want a bath… a bath sounds amazing right now”

“Good thing that’s exactly where I’m taking you, huh?” You hum in agreement as he enters your home, turning on the lantern that lit up your entire bedroom. He sat you on your bed before excusing himself to grab some water and maybe some food for you to eat, trying to at least sober you up a tiny bit before you fell asleep.

You on the other hand, worked to remove your wet clothing that stuck to your skin. You had on celebration clothes so they were much more uncomfortable and skin showing, but the top wouldn’t come off and you were getting frustrated. Your mind begins to roam with anxiety as you fiddle with the strings, afraid of what Geto might say when he comes back to your half naked body.

But another part of your brain is telling you to keep it there. To keep the wet top on your body so it continued to show the curve of your breasts and nipples, and to allow your bottom half to show on full display for the older man to see. The ideas intrigued you; having Suguru Geto look at you like that… to look at you with hungry eyes like you’d always imagine when you were alone.

Oh God, how badly you wanted him to touch you.

It was so forbidden but it felt so right, like you needed him to see you the way you saw him.

“Okay, here’s some…” Just as you had planned, you watched as his voice trails off and his eyes glue to your body, taking in every line that scattered your skin. You were practically naked for fucks sake, how could he not look? He hated himself. He hated that he saw you the way he did but the truth was that he couldn’t see you any other way. He saw the way you’d look at him every so often and you saw the way he’d look at you, there was no reason to hide it anymore.

“I need some help with my top, Suguru” Your voice is soft and slightly demanding as you stand to your feet, watching as he clears his throat, setting down the food and water he had grabbed for you. “It’s stuck… and sticky”

“Your uh… you don’t have anything on, Y/N-“

“Yes I do. I have this on” you tug at the top on your chest, watching him take a deep breath. Were you getting to him? You definitely were. His eyes are anywhere but near you now which made a smirk tug at your lips, approaching the man. “What is it, Geto? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a woman without clothes before?”

He fought with himself as he tried to hold back, biting his bottom lip as his eyes scanned your hips, taking a liking to the curve of your body. You were a tease, who knew? It was wrong of him to look at you like this… but why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he turn away.

A single hum vibrates through your throat as you let your hand reach for his arm, fingertips ghosting over his skin. Yes, you were intoxicated but you knew exactly what you were doing. If anything, you were glad you had the liquid courage to do this because if you were sober, you would’ve never tried.

But believe it or not, you deeply wanted to do this.

“Y/N” Your name comes hoarse out of his mouth, almost in a warning tone. You were playing with fire, didn’t you know this? Geto was so much bigger then you, and his gaze burned holes through your skin whenever he looked at you. “Your drunk, sweetheart” He breathes but you only giggle, eyes taking in his every ab and detail on his chest; his very strong, large chest. You look up to the man with that same smirk still on your face, letting your fingers move from his arm to his chest.

“And so, so horny” His cock twitches at your words, your eyes were burning against his own, and your face was almost undeniable in that moment. Your sweet doe eyes were big and pleading but your body was confident, touching his like it was going to take what it wanted. “Come on, Suguru. You want to help me, don’t you?” Stop looking at her! Just put her to bed and leave! Geto’s thoughts were roaming so wildly through his head, the only thing that was holding him back was the fact you were so clearly drunk, and he feared taking advantage of you.

“I can’t help you, not if your drunk” He finally refuses but your not taking that answer, only touching more sensitive areas on his body to gain his upmost attention.

“I appreciate you for saying that, but you and I both know I’ve been wanting this. You, have been wanting this too” Your voice is soft but full of intent as you press your hand to his chest, feeling the chisels of his abs between your fingers. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when we fight, and how you watch my hips sway when I walk” He looks down at you as you watch your hands against him, letting them guide themselves up his perfectly toned body. “Tell me, sir. Have you ever touched yourself to the thought of me?”

His breath is hitched as you let your hands travel up his back, moving closer to the man with ease. You had him right where you wanted him. “I… I don’t think-“

“Don’t lie to me, Geto” Your eyes meet at your words and he can no longer act like it’s not true, taking a deep breath before nodding his head gently to you. “I touched myself to you this morning, you know why? God, you just looked so good with your hair wet, and the way the water fell down your body… makes me so hot”

Your hand eventually made it to the back of his neck, snaking under his soft hair with ease. You were as close as you could be, eyes looking up at him with that pleading look. “Always think about how good you’d treat me, how good you’d fuck me” You could feel his heart beating faster and faster against you, and you watched as his eyes slowly forgot their loving state that he was so obviously trying to fight. “Why are you still holding back? You want me to get on my knees and beg you to fuck me?” Now you were just being a brat. Your voice was clearly in a teased tone and your body language was trying to get the best of his, you could see his jaw clenching at every word you uttered.

You lean up to the older man’s ear, brushing your lips against its lobe. Your breath was hot against his ear and you could feel his hands start to move from his sides, hesitant to touch your waist. “You better make me beg, Mr. Geto” That was it. That was his breaking point.

From the moment you whispered in his ear, to when his hands roughly grabbed at your waist, you couldn’t remember much until he was pushing you against the wall of your cave, keeping a slight amount of distance between the two of you as he took in your messy-hair state. You were laughing, biting your nail like this was funny to you. Geto didn’t see the appeal, if he was going to fuck you, he was going to ruin you.

“Your playing a dangerous game, Kid” He tells you with a sharp tone, moving to place his hands against the cave’s walls, closing you between him and the stone. You smirk, looking him up and down once before looking back to his face.

“I thought you were able to tame cursed spirits…. Isn’t dangerous your thing?” The two of you stood there, staring at the other for what felt like forever until he finally gave in, cursing himself under his breath before he grabbed your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. Your body is flush against his as he lifts you into the air, wrapping your legs around his waist as soon as you moaned against him. You could feel his growing erection, you could feel his hunger for your body like he felt yours.

Once again, your back is crashed against the wall as he completely devours your lips into his, fingers digging into your skin as did yours to his silk hair, slight pulling it back when you needed to breath. His lips remove from yours and move to your jaw, hungrily peppering wet kisses down it, all the way to your neck.

Your moans are what encourage him the most. Hearing your sweet whimpers in his ear as he sucked on your neck felt like a dream. Believe god, he’d had that dream many, many times before.

“I’ve waited so long for this” Your breathless above him, gripping his hair between your small fingers. You could feel his cock pressing against you, begging for your tongue. It was big, he was so fucking big. It should’ve scared you but you were more intrigued, grinding your hips against his to gain some friction with the little time you had before he stopped your bratty movements.

“Older girls wait” He teases and you only roll your eyes, grabbing his hand that held you steady against him. You could feel his teeth were brushing your skin, hungry for it like some starved vampire. He wanted to mark you, and you wanted him to.

“Nothing’s stopping you from getting an older girl” You hum, holding his head and slightly pushing it down so his lips reattached to your neck. “And nothings stopping you from marking me” A grunt escapes his mouth as if he had been fighting with the feeling, shaking his head between your neck before meeting your eyes again; your bratty, untamed eyes.

“Can’t have an older girl when I have a brat I need to take care of, now can I?” He’s so obviously joking and you love every second of it. Every word of degradation is like music to your ears, like a forbidden kink you didn’t know you had. You were a brat, but you were his brat. “That’s how you like it, huh? Like being bad?” Your ears are perking at his every word and your eyes light up with a laugh to your lips, smile so big you couldn’t relax it. “Jesus, you’re so dirty, aren’t you?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to his body then before with a smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I guess you’ll have to find that out” His eyes. Oh Jesus, his eyes were so hungry as he set you down on your feet, giving you a devilish look before kneeling in front of you. At first you didn’t know what to think but it only took you a few seconds to realize once his large arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body close to him.

His chin sat against your stomach, staring up at you like he had been waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t know what he was planning until his thumb was ghosting around your clit, that same smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you.

“Fuck” You breath heavily, leaning your head back against the wall, not even realizing the man under you was now fully under you. “S-shit!” Your hand fell clasp over your mouth to silence your moan, eyes falling back on the man under you. Except now, his face was pressed into your dripping wet cunt, and his fingers teased what his mouth didn’t. “K-knew you wanted this too…” You mumble under your unsteady breath, trying your hardest not to moan because he had just started and you didn’t want to seem weak.

But holy shit, this man knew how to use his tongue.

Your hand fell atop his head in hopes to gain some sort of stability but that quickly failed, given how badly he was attacking your clit. His mouth was warm against you and you already knew you’d come soon. It was like he knew your body inside and out.

“I know your not holding back on me, are you?” His words vibrate against your cunt making you jolt, thankful his arms held you down so you wouldn’t fall. Geto was in pure bliss under you, relishing in your sweet taste that so effortlessly painted his tongue. You were wet, your cunt was begging for more even if you were a crying mess above him, like it finally found what it had been longing for.

“That’s all? Maybe your the one holding back” He chuckles at your attempt at retaliation but still manages to one up you, slipping two of his large, slender fingers inside you. “S-Suguru, let me sit down fir-“

“No” He only uttered one word but it was enough to make you listen like a trained dog, allowing your legs to tremble against his face. You could’ve taken it had you been sitting, but your legs couldn’t function correctly when he was destroying them under you.

His fingers curl against your spongy walls, pushing his tongue against your clit quickly as your moan’s increased. It was so clear you were already on edge, about to let go without it being over five minutes. You find your pride slipping from you in a matter of seconds, begging the man to let you come as your fingers tug his hair. You couldn’t hold on, your legs were far too weak.

“Please, please—Suguru, please” His ears are perking as you moan his name, begging for him, moaning for him. Normally, he’d take his time with you but now? You were being such a brat, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. He needed to be inside of you, and for that exact reason is why he only sped up under you. “G-gonna come..!”

Your mind tried to come up with some sort of reason as to how you got yourself here, How you got your fathers best friend between your legs, and definitely how you were about to fully submit yourself to this older man. He was thinking the same thing; how did he get so lucky to have you above him?

In only seconds, your coming undone above him, legs almost falling weak under you as they shook from your release, sending shivers throughout your entire body. Geto’s still torturing your body, pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace. It was clear, he was trying to kill you.

“Geto!” You cry, gripping his hair with a begging tone. You couldn’t stand much longer. You had to lay down. Finally, after what felt like forever, he removed his tongue from you, letting his fingers slip from inside you. His strong arms are the only thing that held your legs straight, and you could see your release painted on his chin once he looked up at you. “Holy shit” You curse under your breath, chest heaving as he stood to his feet. You look at the large man above you, noticing once again how he towers over you.

“Down” Was all he said to get you to do just that, falling to your knees in front of him. You shouldn’t have teased him, huh? You really, shouldn’t have. “This your first time, sweetheart?” He asks, obviously teasingly as he strokes your hair, making your eyes roll.

Your small hands work to untie his sweats, letting them fall to the floor under you. God, your suspicions were more than right. He was big, so fucking big you were unsure if it’d even fit inside you. Your body was small compared to his, and something like this was almost double the size of the first guy you’d been with.

“It’s okay, Pretty girl. You’re innocent aren’t you? Thats what everyone tells me, hmm? My innocent, good little girl” That’s it. You don’t even listen to Him as you take his large length in your hand, leaning over it to let a line of spit drip onto the skin. Geto watches closely as your tiny hand spreads the spit around his cock, stroking the base of it. His hand falls to the side of your head as you let your tongue push against his tip, swirling around its mushroom head. You weren’t even doing much but Geto couldn’t help but go completely feral for you, praising your every move with heavy breaths.

You open your mouth to him, closing it around his cock once you went as far as your could. You look up at him with those sweet doe eyes, driving him absolutely insane. He was already harder then he had to be, now it was you teasing him for it. Your mouth is warm around him and he can only imagine what it feels like to be inside you, that thought alone made him feral. Your already stroking him faster and sucking him harder, tired of waiting for him to be inside of you. You could taste the sweet pre that leaked from his tip, humming around his painfully hard cock that sent vibrations through his body.

“Want to fuck your face… Gonna be a good girl and let daddy do that?” You bat your eyelashes at the man above you, removing your hand from his shaft along with your mouth, sitting back on your knees. He chuckles, pushing his thumb against your lip to open your small mouth, grabbing hold of his cock to press onto your soft tongue. “Such a dirty girl. A shame your dad doesn’t know your not at that party right now”

Your mouth is already filled before you could respond, and you could feel every ounce of him push into your throat as he strokes into it, holding your head to guide it along his shaft. Your nails dig into his thighs and make him groan, throwing his head back at the unbelievable sensation you gave him. You were so good for him, it made him wish you had been older so it wasn’t so wrong of him to breed you… but you both knew it was.

“Fuck, just like that. Taking me so well—wish you would’ve came to me sooner, Kid” you moan against his cock, the lines of spit from your mouth were now dripping between the two of you, making a mess of the ground. “All that shit that comes out your mouth about how your so innocent, about how your such a good little princess? Where’s your mouth now? Huh, girl?” He wanted to stay there forever but he knew he couldn’t. He was close enough, he needed to fuck you now.

He pulls you off of him, allowing you to gasp with your chest heavy, following his instructions to move to the bed. You didn’t even have a minute to adjust yourself before he’s already towering over you, pushing you onto your back and pulling you by your ankles closer to his body.

“Suguru” You call to him breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows. He looks to you with his ears perked, watching as a smirk pulls at the corner of your lips. “Use me” Your words are like a command almost, and his face is already meeting yours, kissing your lips roughly as he hovered over you. If it was rough you wanted, it was rough you’d get.

His cock is pressed against your entrance almost instantly, your slick coating it’s head with ease as he runs it along your slit. You were ready, you wanted him for far too long and you couldn’t wait any longer. Your eyes give him a reassuring look before you press your forehead against his, feeling him slowly push his tip into you.

His fingertips are caressing your cheek, soothing you as your eyes squeeze shut. You wanted this and you weren’t a virgin, but this was nothing like before. “You okay, Sweet thing?” He asks softly and you nod, fingers intertwined in his hair. Geto stares longingly at you, watching your every move as your face contorts at the slight pain, pushing more into you slowly.

“Suguru” You let out a soft moan once his tip is past your entrance, the hard part was now over. You look at him with your lips parted, brushing your thumb over his. He pushes your hair out of your face before kissing you, and you weren’t prepared for when he pushed into you fully with one snap of his hips.

Your toes curled and your nails dug into his skin desperately, the feeling was almost indescribable. You just felt… full.

“Oh my god” You moan against his lips, throwing your head back as he strokes you slowly, massaging your thigh. You looked so perfect like this, so pretty in this light. Your body was bare for him, and your body was welcoming him with open arms—he couldn’t get enough of you. “S’big… so fucking big” one of your hands release his shoulder to grip the fur underneath you, teeth catching your bottom lip between them.

“Now your just stroking my ego, pretty girl” He jokes, moving his head down to your neck, placing sloppy kisses against it. His hips find a steady pace at first and gradually work their way up, starting deep, then fast to your skin. “Jesus, your so perfect. Wish I could breed this pussy… this pretty little cunt of yours”

His strong arms capture your thighs, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder. “Suguru! I can’t… oh my gosh” Your little voice is projecting off the walls of your cave but you don’t care, only worried about the man above you. Your head was still slightly spinning from the drinks your endured earlier that night and it only mixed with your horny mess of a body, begging Geto for more. “It’s so good… fuck! You’re so fucking good!”

“Look at you. Such a fucking mess under me. What would your dad say if he saw you? If he knew how badly you wanted me to fuck you? Such a dirty girl, Y/N” He grabs the back of your head, pulling you up slightly so you were at an angle you couldn’t look away from him. His eyes were burning holes into your own, hips rutting into you like he had something to prove.

Which he did.

“Gonna come…! Sugu—Mmph, I’m gonna come!” Your a whining mess under him and he loves every second of it, pushing his hips into you faster then before. Your small body was like a toy in his hand and you were at his every command, doing everything he said.

“Come for me. Want you to scream my name so the whole city knows who’s fucking you this good” You knew it was a bad idea but who were you to decline that request? You were already screaming as it was. “My dirty girl, Your so fucking hot like this”

“I’m coming! I’m—oh my god I-“ Your voice is cut off by your loud moan, leg shuttering against his shoulder as you felt your release threatening to push over. His tip was kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. “Suguru…!” You cry out, pressing your hand to his chest as if that was going to do anything. Your orgasm finally tipped, and you felt it hit you like a truck.

“That’s it! Good fuckin’ girl!” His thumb rubs circles against your clit as he ruts into you harder, watching your liquid release spurt from between the two of you. “Squirting all over me, can’t believe anyone actually believes your innocent”

“it’s—it’s too much!” You push on him but he obviously doesn’t budge, only rolling his eyes at your attempt.

“You begged me to fuck you like this and now you’re giving up? A shame, thought you were stronger then that” You grip his large arms until your knuckles turn bright, scratching along his pale skin. You curse at him, not wanting to hear his teasing any longer. “Come on, baby. Can’t seriously expect me to just let you off easy, hmm?” You look at him with an angry look for a second before completely switching, a smirk pulling at your lips. Jesus, you were nasty, huh?

He pulls out of you all at once making you whine, not able to protest before he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach and pushing your ass in the air. You giggle, stretching your arms in front of you as you arch your back against him, begging him to forgive you. “I was only joking, Pretty boy” You hum, looking back at his face.

He doesn’t say anything and grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back onto his length that so easily slipped inside of you. Your eyes roll back almost instantly as he bottoms you out, pushing his cock as deep as he could reach inside you. “This what you wanted? Then fucking take it” He growls against your ear, slamming himself into your harder than he had been before. You couldn’t even think straight, you were already so fucked out you didn’t even remember what it felt like to not be fucked.

“fuck! Right there! Please, Sugu—fuck me right there!” Your begging voice is music to his ears, your hands gripping the ground under you as he pushed himself against you. “You’re so deep… so fucking good to me, Suguru” He hums, leaning against your body so you were entirely pressing against him, his tongue running along your skin. Once again, you could feel his teeth threaten to break through you but he held himself back, placing sloppy kisses against your shoulder and your neck.

“Nobody can fuck you like I can, Kid. Your mine. You’re all fucking mine, you hear me?” You cry out a yes, the sound of your skin slapping against each others being the only thing that could be heard. “That’s it, fuck me back!” He praises against your ear, holding your hips to press into his.

“Mark me, Geto. Please… please mark me!” You beg making his ears perk, his chuckle against your ear making your skin shiver with goosebumps.

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. M’sorry” He snaps his hips against you and you mewl loudly, crying out his name. “Just let me fuck you nice and good, yeah? Give you a birthday to remember” You huff, reaching back against him to grab his face.

You look over at him, your loving eyes practically begging him. “The back of my neck. N-nobody will see it! Nobody will know—fuck! Nobody will know it was you” you try to bargain and you can tell he was debating it, glancing down at the area on your neck. “Please, do it for me?” Fuck. That got him good. He cursed himself before pushing your hair away from behind your neck, leaning down to run his tongue along it.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble one day” He sighs and you can feel his teeth press against your skin making your eyes roll back, feeling your third orgasm of the night slowly approaching. You let out a shaky breath against your hand as the slight sting took over your body, like you had been getting a tattoo for the first time.

“I’m… I’m gonna come again!” You whine, not daring to move your head as he soon released your skin. He was close, so fucking close and he knew this was as far as he could go. He needed you to come now.

He grabbed your hands and pinned them against your back, pushing your head to the mat as he sat up against you, slamming into you harder than before now. You’re a moaning mess under him and you know your done for, begging him for more and yelling to him how close you were getting. He couldn’t handle it.

“Come for me, baby. Need to paint that pretty face of yours” Geto moans above you and it makes you frown, pushing your hips harder against him as you clench around his cock, making it almost impossible to move. “Don’t be a brat, kid. You know I can’t do that” He already knows what you’ll ask but the answer was no. He couldn’t, he definitely couldn’t.

“I won’t get pregnant, I promise” You beg, knowing it was practically impossible for you to get pregnant because of the medicine you take. Geto kept repeating his answer with every stroke but as he continued, it didn’t seem to matter. You wouldn’t let him go. “Please, Sugu. Want it inside! I want all of you!”

“You’re so fucking drunk, Y/N. You don’t want that” He curses, holding himself back from releasing just off how tight you were clenching around him. You roll your eyes, you knew exactly what you were saying.

“Stop being an asshole and just fucking do it!” He groans loudly, pushing your head against the mat harshly as he picked up his pace, tightening his grip around your wrists. You had officially pissed him off. You were screaming under him, he wasn’t just kissing your cervix anymore but he was full on ramming into you, like a wild animal during its rut.

“Fucking brat, you never know when to shut up, huh? Come for me now, Y/N” You cry, unable to hold it any longer. His grunts are louder now and you could feel his cock pulsing inside you, just waiting for you to release. You let out the loudest moan you could as you tip over your edge, fingers balling into a fist as you cry loudly from your orgasm. “That’s it! Milk my cock—good girl. Just like that!”

“Please give it to me, Suguru! I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Just give it to me!” You beg the man and with only a few more strokes, he pushes himself as deep as he could go inside you, releasing himself deep inside your dripping wet cunt. “Yes! Oh my god—yes!” Your eyes roll back as you move your hips against him, helping him ride out his high inside you.

The hot spurts of his come paint your gummy walls, and he almost collapses onto you, holding himself up just inches from your body with his heavy, hot breath against your skin. The two of you are sweaty messes against each other and you don’t even know what to say, only laying there lifeless as he slowly slipped out of you. You could hear him moving around your room but you didn’t care. You couldn’t even move, you felt so weak.

He clicks his tongue as he kneels down to you, pushing away the hair that stuck to your face from the sweat. “So pretty like this—all fucked out and tired. Was it worth it, pretty girl?”

You open your eyes to the man standing above you, his sweats back on his body making you frown. “You’re leaving?” You question sadly and he sighs, looking over at the entrance to your home.

“Your father will be home soon, Kid. I can’t stay” Geto admits, sad as well that he can’t be with you. You wanted to argue but you knew he was right, giving him a small smile with your arms out for him. He kneels down so his face is level with your own, pressing a passionate kiss against your lips. He hated the fact he had to leave you after doing that with you, he felt like an asshole.

But he couldn’t help the adrenaline rush he felt knowing how sneaky and secretive you two had to be from now on. It was so fucking hot.

But he couldn’t stay and get caught by your father. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, especially on your birthday.

For now, you were his dirty little secret.

Been obsessed over jjk for two weeks… sorry for my snc readers waiting for those but here’s my latest obsession 😋

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

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We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up.

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop.

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone.

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified.

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide.

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either.

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows.

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative.

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing.

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets.

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like.

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner.

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot.

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting.

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck.

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out.

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!”

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him.

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?”

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first.

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse.

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #gotta be honest i do Not know much abt the We Are Robin movement. have yet to read those comics....#also this definitely deviated a bit from your prompt. sorry!! still hope i got the main things you wanted to see #duke being dannys hero is something so special to me...#also it is his parents selling weapons and blueprints and things to the giw which is then given to the military for new weapons #a truly terrible pipeline #duke and jason and whoever else joins will find the source of the weapons. break into the fenton home. and dannys just there eating toast #in his pjs like. um hi guys did u need something? (and staring at duke like DUDE HELLO WTF??)#a mess of a situation :) not gonna write it bc i know it would get away from me and get so long #thanks for the prompt!!

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ichatake · 8 months ago

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im curious since in ur request rules you have that you write yandere characters. What is your definition of yandere? How do you write them and what do you think about them? btw I really love your work.

and since we're on the topic, what characters would you see being a little yandere? What type of yandere would they be?

Hi Anon! I appreciate the question! Many people have different ideas of what a yandere is and how they should be portrayed. I’d like to start off by giving you the definition of what most people see a yandere:

Now, my definition of a yandere is a person who is completely devoted to another, to the point where they develop unhealthy tendencies. I tend to write my Yandere characters in a more realistic way. (I tend to stay away from the whole ‘oh gosh you just killed this person because they looked at me weird’ kind of writing style. It’s just not my cup of tea)

Since I’ve always been a big fan of psychological horror and dark romance, I portray yanderes as narcissistic, manipulative, and simply not safe to be around. They might have stalkerish tendencies, yes, but I like to focus more on how they would affect the person they like. (I know it kinda takes away from the whole definition of yandere) Basically, I just like turning the usual lovestruck, insane yandere into a more realistic version of themselves (as realistic as they could get in the ninja world. I hate completely altering a character’s personality into something they’re not).

What do I think of yanderes? Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to meet one in real life. I like reading and writing them in fiction, but in no way shape or form do I romanticize or agree with whatever the Yandere does. I do not condone any type abuse because it’s absolutely vile that someone might go out their way to hurt others. Having said that, I think many people might not find the way I write yanderes very pleasing, because it’s not what they’re used to seeing, and that’s totally okay!

Now to answer you final questions:

I believe there are a few characters that might have the possibilities of becoming a Yandere or having Yandere tendencies:

Obito (way too obsessive):

I know a lot of people think the same way as I do. I believe that Obito is a man with serious problems.

He technically grew up alone, just with his grandmother. He almost succeeded in putting everyone in an infinite genjutsu, where he could distort reality to his liking and be with the girl he loved.

It’s safe to say that he would be a yandere where if push comes to shove, he will do whatever it takes to have you near him.

He is obsessive (he had a lot of pictures of Rin when he was young, so…). He needs to remember your face clearly, even when he’s away from you. You’re the reason why he breathes. He lives because you allow him to. That’s what he thinks.

Madara(protective and controlling):

Hear me out, this man is complicated.

Sometimes he would put his desires over you, but if we’re going to be honest, he’d shred down the world for you.

If something ever happened to you, Madara would take no time in avenging you. He’s a little different to Obito. Although he’s obsessive, he doesn’t completely revolve his life around you.

He likes feeling possessive over you, but he can leave at any time that he needs to. You have to wait for him. He’ll be a protective yandere, looking out for you and making sure you understand that he’ll be the only one there for you.

Kakashi (protective, pathological liar) :

Whoa? Kakashi? Really? Yes really. This man has grown up alone. He made friends, they died. They left. Anytime he got close to someone, they’d disappear. It’s only logical that if he were to fall for someone, he’d like to protect them.

However, this protectiveness can get overwhelming. He knows you’re capable of protecting yourself, he simply doesn’t want you to. If one thing he’s done wrong in life, it’s protecting those around him. This was his time to make up for all those times he failed.

He isn’t used to affection, but when he has it, he craves it. Badly. You need to remind him that you love him too, or else he might just think you’re ready to leave him at any time.

He isn’t above lying to get you to do something. He’s lied before, so why not lie again? If it gets things going his way, he won’t care. A little harmless lie can turn into a bunch of them.

Sasuke (distant, but protective) :

If he likes you, he definitely won’t show it. If he genuinely cares, he won’t be above doing anything inhumane. He’s already done a lot of things in this world that got him hate, adding another one to his list wouldn’t be a problem.

He’ll work from the shadows. He’ll love you from far away. He isn’t really affectionate and doesn’t know how to show it.

One things certain though, you’re his lover. He will give his life for you or take another.

You ask him for the moon and he will serve it in a silver platter before leaving.

Do I think other character could be Yandere? Well yes, this is fiction after all, but these are the best that fit that description. Anyways, thank you for your questions! I’d love to answer more if anyone else is curious or wants to request some Yandere content!

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k0ppyi · 7 months ago

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TWISTED WONDERLAND X SAWAKO KURONUMA! READER

characters: housewardens (minus Idia)

NOTE: the only reason I didn’t do Idia is bc I literally have no clue how to write him 🧍‍♀️. Also the writings a tad bit rushed

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Riddle has heard about you a few times amongst many students. He heard the most perplexing things like how you could sense spirits, how you were nicknamed “Sadako” from The Ring due to your creepiness, and that you were pure bad luck. He personally thought such rumors were ridiculous.

When he met you, he was quite startled when you popped out of nowhere to ask him directions to one of the supply rooms. He had willingly lead you there.

“Housewarden Riddle…you’re such a good person…!” You said shyly as he opened the supply closets room.

“What…?” He asked. He was quite shocked.

“W-well, you were kind enough to give me directions…and not just that, you were kind enough to walk me here too….! So I really do thank you!” You said. Riddles heartbeat fastened as he watched you smile. Many people have said that you were scary, that you were bad luck, that your smile could curse someone. But all he saw was an entirely sweet person in front of him.

“I-it’s no worry, really…” he muttered, his face incredibly red. When he went back to his dorm, he found out your actual name was not Sadako.

‘I’ll have to give them a proper greeting with their name tomorrow…’

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

He was uninterested in you. Sure, he heard about your nickname and your reputation, but really, those were all just rumors everyone talked about. Nothing interesting about you. Until you had wondered into the botanical gardens during passing period.

He saw you trying to tend to an injured bird.

“It’s okay, little birdie…I won’t hurt you…” you said quietly. The bird kept chirping and pecking at your hand.

“Hey you, what are you doing? That thing so clearly doesn’t like you.” Leona says. You turned to him in surprise.

“Well…I can’t just leave the poor bird here without any help..” you said as you stood up, the bird cupped in your hand. You looked as if you were hesitating to say something. “Could you help me..? I’m sure it’ll like you better than me..” you said. You moved up to the branch and offered the small bird to Leona. He looked at you, your pleading eyes were almost too much for him. He sighed and took the bird from you, carefully wrapping the bandage around its wing.

“Thank you, thank you a lot! You’re a very nice person!” You said with a smile. He froze as he looked at you, his tail wagged back on forth.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Upon hearing about you, Azul’s first thought was ‘a new client perhaps?’ Hearing about the rumors surrounding you would lead to him trying to get you to come to his office so he could persuade you into a contract with him. You sat in front of him.

“You needed me, Azul?” You asked. Your bangs dripped over your eyes and created a shadow over your face. Azul was quite scared, but it was too late to back down now.

“I’ve heard from quite a few people about your troubles now.” He smiled. Your face became a tinted pink out of embarrassment.

“Oh…oh, yes, I’m aware of it…” you muttered, feeling shy all of a sudden. He smiled.

“Well, what would you say to an offer?”

“An offer..?” Your eyes sparkled.

“Yes, an offer so that you can stop seeing these dark spirits!” He said, rather proudly. Your eyes widened.

“Oh! Azul, I really don’t see spirits!” You said hastily. You thought that he was talking about the fact you can’t communicate very well.

“What.” Azul said, dumbfounded. Embarrassment crept up in himself.

“Yes…I’m sorry for disappointing you…you probably had such high hopes…” you said, fiddling with your fingers.

“No! It’s just fine…! Not a worry!” He said, standing up. His face was red in embarrassment. “You may leave now…” he said, sitting down and covering his face.

“Tho…thank you for trying to help me…if I were to be seeing spirits, I would definitely come to you for help!” You said. You bowed and left. He looked up at the door as it closed, his face was red.

KALIM AL-ASIM

Kalim was quite interested in you. When he first heard the rumors about you, tho never seeing you, you were all he thought and talked about. He had called you Sadako for quite some time, but he got so curious to the point he learned your real name.

“Good morning! Your [Name] right?” Kalim asks, popping up in front of your desk. Your eyes lit up.

“Y-yes! Good morning!” You said. Your face was clearly ecstatic. That day Kalim had decided he would sit next to you during class. Kalim grew fond of you quite quickly, and he noticed how your smile and your happy face was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. How come no one had ever realized it?

“[Name]…your smiles really pretty…” he said in a daze.

“Huh? Really…?” You said. You blushed a bit as he nodded. “Then…thank you, you’re a really nice and cheerful person, Kalim, I hope to be like you one day..” you muttered. Kalim only smiled and turned away with a scramble of thoughts.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil had seen you looking at one of the photos of him placed around the town. How did he know it was you? Well, you were infamous for scaring people off, and everyone who you looked at ran away. He would often witness your interactions with classmates, but he never did anything.

“Excuse me….But if you need, I can play the role as the ghost…” You said as you stood at the door way of the club room. The Film Research Club was making a horror film, unfortunately, they were running low on cast members. Vil turned to you, relieved from his previous stress.

“You? I suppose it could be fitting. Alright then, I’ll put your name down. That is?”

“[Name]” he nodded and put the clip board down. The other members were whispering about you, Vil only glared at them and they went silent.

“Come, I’ll do your special effects make up.” Vil said, gesturing for you to follow over. As he did your make up, he noticed that you had many beauties to your face. It was quite a pity for him that he’d had to make you look horrifying.

After the film recording was over, you went up to Vil. “Vil, I just wanted to thank you for letting me take part in your film. I think that I was able to become more closer with my classmates thanks to it…” you said with a shy smile. Vil’s eyes softened at your smile. It was quite cute.

“No need to thank me, you were the one who volunteered after all.” He said.

“Tho, I do think I need a model for my make up brand, I think you would fit well on a poster. Do come meet me at my dorm if you’re interested” He whispered in your ears. You stepped back and nodded. You were very flustered. You bowed and left the room.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

He met you when you were walking around in the rain. He had no clue who you were, and neither did you. He had no umbrella, but you did. So what did you do? Help him! After all, your motto is “one good deed a day”

“Excuse me..! I couldn’t help but notice that you had no umbrella…I can walk you back to your dorm if you’d like.” You said, standing behind him. He turned around. He was quite shocked that someone had come and talked to him.

“Yes…that would be nice…” he said. You smiled and hovered the umbrella over both you and him. He was much taller than you. Your arm was slowly straining. “Allow me to hold it.” He said, taking the umbrella from your hand.

“Thank you…” you said. “Oh…Im [Name], what’s yours?” You asked. He tilted his head. Did you not know him? He smiled.

“You can call me whatever you may like.” He said. Perhaps you just didn’t know what Malleus Draconia looked like. He wouldn’t want to lose someone who wasn’t afraid of him. “I couldn’t possibly call you whatever…! It would really be nice if we could be friends…I don’t have much myself” you said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” He asked.

“I think everyone’s scared of me…I would be too, after all, I do look like Sadako from The Ring, right?” You asked. He gazed at you. He was unaware of who “Sadako” was or what “The Ring” was.

“I can…relate to that.” He said.

“Yes! See? We already have one thing in common. So please tell me your name.” He smiled softly.

“Malleus”

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genderqueerdykes · 26 days ago

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please post more about alterhumanity I love to see it!!

sure! i'll see what i can come up with off the top of my head

i told my mom numerous times throughout my childhood that i wasn't human, but i didn't for real find out i'm nonhuman until i was somewhere around 19 or so. i finally joined the furry community, and was following someone on tumblr who was talking about their dragon kintype. i started googling "otherkin" and reading about it and realized oh wait. other people are like this too?

i figured out i was an elf first. that was fairly easy, i interacted with a lot of other elves since it was a very common kintype at the time. i did trade some really cool experiences, people really had some interesting ideas on what nonhumanity was about. my best friend and roommate at the time actually knew about me being otherkin, but he wasn't really the most supportive about it. he just kinda used it as a way to wedge himself into otherkin spaces and start debates and arguments with people. so over time i stopped talking about it with him

over the years though, i've not really stopped identifying as nonhuman. because i'm plural, i have a lot of nonhuman alters, and some that are from fictional sources. i would say every 6 - 12 months or so, one of us realizes some part of their nonhumanity, or a new alter who is nonhuman shows themselves and talks about their nonhumanity.

as much as i don't like how decentralized the otherkin community has come, it's been nice to figure things out on my own. back in the 2010s, people were very strict about what "counts" as otherkin. you would be guilted into trying to figure out if you have memories of that life, what "deeper meaning" your kintypes have to you, and so on. back then, people would harass new kin and make them jump through hoops to truly identify as their nonhuman selves. it messed me up for quite a while thinking i had to have a super deep connection that takes a lifetime to uncover in order to be a "real" otherkin

i actually have been staff for/ran a few nonhuman communities over the years! i found it to be a lot of fun because it's not as serious as queer issues, and there's a lot less arguing about real world politics and whatnot. while those topics are important, sometimes you need a space free of all of that. plus a really fun part of the nonhuman community is learning about animals and fictional creatures and people you've never heard of before. there's definitely no shortage of anime recommendations in fictionkin and fictive spaces that's for sure

i actually discovered the concept of plurality through nonhuman spaces, as many nonhumans are also plural. either spiritually, due to mental health conditions, naturally or something else, there's a lot of plurals in those communities. i met my first plural friend in the otherkin community and they taught me alot about the experience that i was going through in the moment as well. it tends to be a space that's very open to the concept of plurality and it's really nice

the nonhuman types that myself and my system collectively identify with the most are definitely my canine kintypes. i am very connected to both wolves and coyotes- i actually figured out i was a coyote first, almost a decade ago! it took me a lot more years to finally confirm i'm also a wolf. i've always felt very drawn toward coyotes for one reason or another- it's an animal i look at and think "hey that's what i look like".

i do wear dog collars because i identify as a dog as well! i'm part of the pup play community, though it is nonsexual for me, i just really enjoy being able to act out being a canine creature. i actually had a dog bed for a while that i slept on, but i haven't been able to get a new one. wearing a collar can be very comforting for me. not only do i find them adorable, but it's something that feels very personally correct to me.

horses are also really important to us as well. they are an animal we've looked at and gone "that's me" as well throughout our life. we have no desire to ride horses, but we would love to care for them and be around them. hooved animals in general have always been something we've felt a personal connection to as well. we've also been questioning whether or not we identify as a cow.

i'd love to get some accessories like ears, tails, paws, etc. in the future, and honestly, i've always wanted a fursuit/fursuits. like i adore them so much. i think they're such a creative artform and i've always wanted to learn how to make them. i think they're just. so fucking cool. hopefully i can get or make one some day!

overall accepting my nonhumanity has made my life a lot easier. i generally have phantom sensations of ears, tails and paws throughout my day to day life, and i don't really feel connected to humanity on a personal level. it's tiring to pretend like i see the world through a human lens because i just do not. it doesn't negatively impact my life whatsoever. i still do things i have to do, like pay my rent and bills, work, and so on. i can live a fulfilling life while acknowledging that my mind and soul are not that of a human

if i think of anything else, i'll add it in the reblogs! thanks for this ask i enjoy talking about my nonhumanity!

#asks #answers #nonhuman #alterhuman #therian #otherkin #about us

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rayassecretlife · 2 years ago

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Im LITERALLY so down bad for dilf Jake Sully like omfg. Could you write a fic where maybe he is like your dads best friend yk like a forbidden romance with an age gap? (Ofc the reader is still over 18 duh)

🫶🏼

Forbidden secrets

Pairing: Dilf!Jake sully x 23 year old!Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

PART 2

Summary: You have a little to much fun celebrating your birthday, and the man you often caught yourself fantasizing about was the one to take you home.

Warning(s): Mature language, use of alcohol, Corruption kink, DOM!Jake, Praise kink, 15 year!age gap, unprotected p in v, degradation, dilf jake being a warning himself 🫠, cr*ampie, consensual!non!consent, f!ngering, marking, mentions of blood, semi public??? This smut is LONG

Saturday nights were usually days where Jake would relax at home and take a break from anything outside, but for today, he had to make an exception just for you.

Jake sully was your father’s best friend and right hand man when it came to anything business related. You grew up knowing Jake as one of the people you looked up to, but sometimes you couldn’t help but think about why that was.

As you got older, you’d catch yourself staring at the older man way more then usual. You’d notice when his braids were fresh and new, or when he cut his hair and lost the smallest amount of weight. Your mind had memorized every scar from previous battles that scattered his blue skin, and you knew how many freckles he had on his face. You never realized how good looking he had been till you grew up.

As for Jake, ever since you’d turned 21, he had his eyes glued to you and the way you were. Just like you, he’d find himself staring at your hips when you’d sit down and how they outlined your perfect hourglass body, or the way your hair touched the small of your back. He’d often take you hunting with him and that only made it worse, seeing the way your body moved when you pulled back a bow or even just stretched.

It was safe to say the two of you had the most forbidden feeling toward one another, and it made both of you feel so terrible.

Tonight was your 23rd birthday and of course you decided to share it with friends and family in an open area within the forest. Most of the clan had went but there were also people you knew who couldn’t go, having to tend to duties or watch their children since your party was definitely an adult only type of event. Your father was one of them, out running scout trips with a few other men while you celebrated without him.

And Jake saw that.

“Having fun, Kid?” He asks, approaching you. Your conversation was cut short by the deep voice behind you, your laughing coming to an end as you turn to the familiar face with a smile.

“Jake! Your here!” You threw your arms around his large torso making him let out a small grunt, holding up your drunken body that so easily gave into his touch. “Thought you’d never show” Your friends are watching you with a smirk on their faces, eyes on the man above you that they so obviously thought was attractive as well. After all, he was Toruk Makto.

Jake frowns, excusing the two of you from your friend group before bringing you away from the crowd, gently pulling you off of him. “Your trashed, aren’t ya, peach?” You giggle and shake your head, taking another sip of the cup that was in your hand.

“N-no! This—this is water!” You argue, holding it up to show him. He only sighs at you, reaching to take it but you quickly pulled it back, shaking your head. “I promise, Jake! What’s the difference? It’s my birthday, you know?”

“I do know, and your shitfaced, Y/N. It’s time to get you home” He reaches for your drink again, this time being able to grab hold on it but not without your retaliation. “Peach, I’m really not trying to-“ Just then, the alcohol spilled all over you. Both of your hands drop the glass once you let out a gasp and look down to watch it run down your body. Your clothing was now drenched, dripping with liquid all the way down your legs.

“Are you happy! Now my clothes are wet and I don’t even have a drink” Jake doesn’t miss how you sniffle, kneeling down to see if the glass was broken which is so clearly was. He sighs and walks over to your helpless body, lifting you up gently so you wouldn’t stumble into it. “I was just having fun!”

“I know, Peach. I know” He thumbs away the preexisting tears that slipped down your cheeks before kneeling down, lifting you into his arms. “I’m gonna take you home, alright? Get you cleaned up, your gonna feel so much better” His voice is soothing against your ear and you can’t help but nod, closing your eyes to rid you of the spinning feeling inside your head.

Your relaxed as the man carries you through the forest, staring up at his features that you noticed never drastically changed since he was younger. His skin was glowing in the moonlight above you, and his yellow eyes were big trying to find your cave in the dark. You giggle at his frustrated expression, reaching up to touch his face.

“Good thing that’s exactly where I’m taking you, huh?” You hum in agreement as he enters your cave, turning on the lantern that lit up your entire bedroom. He sat you on your hammock before excusing himself to grab some water and maybe some fruit for you to eat, trying to at least sober you up a tiny bit before you fell asleep.

You on the other hand, worked to remove your wet clothing that stuck to your skin. You had on celebration clothes so they were much more uncomfortable and skin showing, but the top wouldn’t come off and you were getting frustrated. Your mind begins to roam with anxiety as you fiddle with the strings, afraid of what Jake might say when he comes back to your half naked body.

But another part of your brain is telling you to keep it there. To keep the wet top on your body so it continued to show the curve of your breasts and nipples, and to allow your bottom half to show on full display for the older man to see. The ideas intrigued you; having Jake sully look at you like that… to look at you with hungry eyes like you’d always imagine when you were alone.

Oh Eywa, how badly you wanted him to touch you.

It was so forbidden but it felt so right, like you needed him to see you the way you saw him.

“Okay, here’s some…” Just as you had planned, you watched as his voice trails off and his eyes glue to your body, taking in every freckle and every line that scattered your skin. You were practically naked for fucks sake, how could he not look? He hated himself. He hated that he saw you the way he did but the truth was that he couldn’t see you any other way. He saw the way you’d look at him every so often and you saw the way he’d look at you, there was no reason to hide it anymore.

“I need some help with my top, Jake” Your voice is soft and slightly demanding as you stand to your feet, watching as Jake clears his throat, setting down the fruit and water he had grabbed for you. “It’s stuck… and sticky”

“Your uh… you don’t have anything on, Y/N-“

“Yes I do. I have this on” you tug at the top on your chest, watching him take a deep breath. Were you getting to him? You definitely were. His eyes are anywhere but near you now which made a smirk tug at your lips, approaching the man. “What is it, Jake? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a woman without clothes before?”

But believe it or not, you deeply wanted to do this.

“Y/N” Your name comes hoarse out of his mouth, almost in a warning tone. You were playing with fire, didn’t you know this? Jake was so much bigger then you, and his gaze burned holes through your skin whenever he looked at you. “Your drunk, peach” He breathes but you only giggle, eyes taking in his every ab and detail on his chest; his very strong, large chest. You look up to the man with that same smirk still on your face, letting your fingers move from his arm to his chest.

“And so, so horny” His cock twitches at your words, your eyes were burning against his own, and your face was almost undeniable in that moment. Your sweet doe eyes were big and pleading but your body was confident, touching his like it was going to take what it wanted. “Come on, Jake. You want to help me, don’t you?” Stop looking at her, Jake! Just put her to bed and leave! Jake’s thoughts were roaming so wildly through his head, the only thing that was holding him back was the fact you were so clearly drunk, and he feared taking advantage of you.

“I can’t help you, not if your drunk” He finally refuses but your not taking that answer, only touching more sensitive areas on his body to gain his upmost attention.

“I appreciate you for saying that, but you and I both know I’ve been wanting this. You, have been wanting this too” Your voice is soft but full of intent as you press your hand to his chest, feeling the chisels of his abs between your fingers. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when we hunt, and how you watch my hips sway when I walk” He looks down at you as you watch your hands against him, letting them guide themselves up his perfectly toned body. “Tell me, Jake. Have you ever touched yourself to the thought of me?”

His breath is hitched as you let your hands travel up his back, moving closer to the man with ease. You had him right where you wanted him. “I… I don’t think-“

“Don’t lie to me, Jake” Your eyes meet at your words and he can no longer act like it’s not true, taking a deep breath before nodding his head gently to you. “I touched myself to you this morning, you know why? Eywa, you just looked so good with your hair wet, and the way the water fell down your body… makes me so hot”

Your hand eventually make it to the back of his neck, shaking under his dreads with ease. You were as close as you could be, eyes looking up at him with that pleading look. “Always think about how good you’d treat me, how good you’d fuck me” You could feel his heart beating faster and faster against you, and you watched as his eyes slowly forgot their loving state that he was so obviously trying to fight. “Why are you still holding back? You want me to get on my knees and beg you to fuck me?” Now you were just being a brat. Your voice was clearly in a teased tone and your body language was trying to get the best of his, you could see his jaw clenching at every word you uttered.

From the moment you whispered in his ear, to when his hands roughly grabbed at your waist, you couldn’t remember much until he was pushing you against the wall of your cave, keeping a slight amount of distance between the two of you as he took in your messy-hair state. You were laughing, biting your nail like this was funny to you. Jake didn’t see the appeal, if he was going to fuck you, he was going to ruin you.

“At least one of us is playing dangerous” The two of you stood there, staring at the other for what felt like forever until Jake finally gave in, cursing himself under his breath before he grabbed your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. Your body is flush against his as he lifts you into the air, wrapping your legs around his waist as soon as you moaned against him. You could feel his growing erection, you could feel his hunger for your body like he felt yours.

Once again, your back is crashed against the wall as he completely devours your lips into his, fingers digging into your skin as did yours to his dreads, slight pulling them back when you needed to breath. His lips remove from yours and move to your jaw, hungrily peppering wet kisses down it, all the way to your neck.

Your moans are what encourage him the most. Hearing your sweet whimpers in his ear as he sucked on your neck felt like a dream. Believe Eywa, he’d had that dream many, many times before.

“I’ve waited so long for this” Your breathless above him, gripping his dreads between your small fingers. You could feel his cock pressing against you, begging for your tongue. It was big, he was so fucking big. It should’ve scared you but you were more intrigued, grinding your hips against his to gain some friction with the little time you had before he stopped your bratty movements.

“Older girls wait” He teases and you only roll your eyes, grabbing his hand that held you steady against him. You could feel his fangs were brushing your skin, hungry for it like some starved vampire. He wanted to mark you, and you wanted him to.

“Nothing’s stopping you from getting an older girl” You hum, holding his head and slightly pushing it down so his lips reattached to your neck. “And nothings stopping you from marking me, Mr sully” A grunt escapes his mouth as if he had been fighting with the feeling, shaking his head between your neck before meeting your eyes again; your bratty, untamed green eyes.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to his body then before with a smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I guess you’ll have to find that out” His eyes. Oh Eywa, his eyes were so hungry as he set you down on your feet, giving you a devilish look before kneeling in front of you. At first you didn’t know what to think but it only took you a few seconds to realize once his large arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body close to him.

“Fuck” You breath heavily, leaning your head back against the stone, not even realizing the man under you was now fully under you. “S-shit!” Your hand fell clasp over your mouth to silence your moan, eyes falling back on the man under you. Except now, his face was pressed into your dripping wet cunt, and his fingers teased what his mouth didn’t. “S-sneaky little shit” You mumble under your unsteady breath, trying your hardest not to moan because he had just started and you didn’t want to seem weak.

But holy shit, this man knew how to use his tongue.

“I know your not holding back on me, are you?” His words vibrate against your cunt making you jolt, thankful his arms held you down so you wouldn’t fall. Jake was in pure bliss under you, relishing in your sweet taste that so effortlessly painted his tongue. You were wet, your cunt was begging for more even if you were a crying mess above him, like it finally found what it had been longing for.

“That’s all? Maybe your the one holding back” He chuckles at your attempt at retaliation but still manages to one up you, slipping two of his large, slender fingers inside you. “J-Jake, let me sit down fir-“

“Please, please—Jake, please” His ears are perking as you moan his name, begging for him, moaning for him. Normally, he’d take his time with you but now? You were being such a brat, he knew he couldn’t last much longer. He needed to be inside of you, and for that exact reason is why he only sped up under you. “G-gonna come..!”

In only seconds, your coming undone above him, legs almost falling weak under you as they shook from your release, sending shivers throughout your entire body. Jake’s still torturing your body, pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace. It was clear, he was trying to kill you.

“Jake!” You cry, gripping his hair with a begging tone. You couldn’t stand much longer. You had to lay down. Finally, after what felt like forever, he removed his tongue from you, letting his fingers slip from inside you. His strong arms are the only thing that held your legs straight, and you could see your release painted on his chin once he looked up at you. “Holy shit” You curse under your breath, chest heaving as he stood to his feet. You look at the large man above you, noticing once again how he towers over you.

“Down” Was all he said to get you to do just that, falling to your knees in front of him. You shouldn’t have teased him, huh? You really, shouldn’t have. “This your first time, peach?” He asks, obviously teasingly as he strokes your hair, making your eyes roll.

Your small hands work to untie his loincloth, letting it fall to the floor under you. Great mother, your suspicions were more then right. He was big, so fucking big you were unsure if it’d even fit inside you. Your body was small compared to his, and something like this was almost double the size of the first guy you’d been with.

“Nervous?” That’s it. You don’t even listen to Jake as you take his large length in your hand, leaning over it to let a line of spin drip onto the skin. Jake watches closely as your tiny hand spreads the spit around his cock, stroking the base of it. His hand falls to the side of your head as you let your tongue push against his tip, swirling around its mushroom head. You weren’t even doing much but Jake couldn’t help but go completely feral for you, praising your every move with heavy breaths.

“Want to fuck your face… Gonna let daddy do that?” You bat your eyelashes at the man above you, removing your hand from his shaft along with your mouth, sitting back on your knees. He chuckles, pushing his thumb against your lip to open your small mouth, grabbing hold of his cock to press onto your soft tongue. “Such a dirty girl. A shame your dad doesn’t know your not at that party right now”

He pulls you off of him, allowing you to gasp with your chest heavy, following his instructions to move to the fur mat you had in your room. You didn’t even have a minute to adjust yourself before he’s already towering over you, pushing you onto your back and pulling you by your ankles closer to his body.

“Jake” You call to him breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows. He looks to you with his ears perked, watching as a smirk pulls at the corner of your lips. “Use me” Your words are like a command almost, and his face is already meeting yours, kissing your lips roughly as he hovered over you. If it was rough you wanted, it was rough you’d get.

His fingertips are caressing your cheek, soothing you as your eyes squeeze shut. You wanted this and you weren’t a virgin, but this was nothing like before. “You okay, Sweet thing?” He asks softly and you nod, fingers intertwined in his dreads. Jake stares longingly at you, watching your every move as your face contorts at the slight pain, pushing more into you slowly.

“Jake” You let out a soft moan once his tip is past your entrance, the hard part was now over. You look at him with your lips parted, brushing your thumb over his. He pushes your hair out of your face before kissing you, and you weren’t prepared for when he pushed into you fully with one snap of his hips.

Your toes curled and your nails dug into his skin desperately, the feeling was almost indescribable. You just felt… full.

His strong arms capture your thighs, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder. “Jake! I can’t… oh my gosh” Your little voice is projecting off the walls of your cave but you don’t care, only worried about the man above you. Your head was still slightly spinning from the drinks your endured earlier that night and it only mixed with your horny mess of a body, begging Jake for more. “It’s so good… fuck! Your so fucking good!”

“Look at you. Such a fucking mess under me. What would your dad say if he saw you? If he knew how badly you wanted me to fuck you? Such a dirty girl, Y/N” He grabs the back of your head, pulling you up slightly so you were at an angle you couldn’t look away from him. His big yellows were burning holes into your own, hips rutting into you like he had something to prove.

Which he did.

“Gonna come…! Jake, I’m gonna come!” Your a whining mess under him and he loves every second of it, pushing his hips into you faster then before. Your small body was like a toy in his hand and you were at his every command, doing everything he said.

“Come for me. Want you to scream my name so the whole forest knows who’s fucking you this good” You knew it was a bad idea but who were you to decline that request? You were already screaming as it was. “My dirty girl, Your so fucking hot like this”

“I’m coming! I’m—oh my god I-“ Your voice is cut off by your loud moan, leg shuttering against his shoulder as you felt your release threatening to push over. His tip was kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. “Jake…!” You cry out, pressing your hand to his chest as if that was going to do anything. Your orgasm finally tipped, and you felt it hit you like a truck.

“That’s it! Good fuckin’ girl!” His thumb rubs circles against your clit as he ruts into your harder, watching your liquid spurt from between the two of you. “Squirting all over me, can’t believe anyone actually believes your innocent”

“Jake it’s—it’s too much!” You push on him but he obviously doesn’t budge, only rolling his eyes at your attempt.

“You begged me to fuck you like this and now your giving up? A shame, thought you were stronger then that” You grip his large arms until your knuckles turn bright blue, scratching along his striped skin. You curse at him, not wanting to hear his teasing any longer. “Fuck me? Is that what you said?” You look at him with an angry look for a second before completely switching, a smirk pulling at your lips. Jesus, you were nasty, huh?

“fuck! Right there! Please, Jake—fuck me right there!” Your begging voice is music to his ears, your hands gripping the ground under you as he pushed himself against you. “You’re so deep… so fucking good to me, Jake” He hums, leaning against your body so you were entirely pressing against him, his tongue running along your light blue skin. Once again, you could feel his fangs threaten to break through you but he held himself back, placing sloppy kisses against your shoulder and your neck.

“Mark me, Jake. Please… please mark me!” You beg making his ears perk, his chuckle against your ear making your skin shiver with goosebumps.

“You know I can’t do that, Kid. M’sorry” He snaps his hips against you and you mewl loudly, crying out his name. “Just let me fuck you nice and good, yeah? Give you a birthday to remember” You huff, reaching back against him to grab his face.

You look over at him, your loving eyes practically begging him. “The back of my neck, Jake. N-nobody will see it! Nobody will know—fuck! Nobody will know it was you” you try to bargain and you can tell he was debating it, glancing down at the area on your neck. “Please, do it for me?” Fuck. That got him good. He cursed himself before pushing your hair away from behind your neck, leaning down to run his tongue along it.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble one day” He sighs and you can feel his fangs press against your skin making your eyes roll back, feeling your third orgasm of the night slowly approaching. You let out a shaky breath against your hand as the slight sting took over your body, like you had been getting a tattoo for the first time. His fangs pierced your neck, coating themselves in your sweet blood.

“Yes! Jake I’m… I’m gonna come again!” You whine, not daring to move your head as he soon released your skin, cleaning the blood with his soft tongue. He was close, so fucking close and he knew this was as far as he could go. He needed you to come now.

“Come for me, baby. Need to paint that pretty face of yours” Jake moans above you and it makes you frown, pushing your hips harder against him as you clench around his cock, making it almost impossible to move. “Don’t be a brat, kid. You know I can’t!” He already knows what you’ll ask but the answer was no. He couldn’t, he definitely couldn’t.

“I’m not in my heat, Jake. Please!” You beg, knowing it was practically impossible for you to get pregnant if you weren’t in heat. Jake kept repeating his answer with every stroke but as he continued, it didn’t seem to matter. You wouldn’t let him go. “Please, Jake. Want it inside! I want all of you!”

“Please give it to me, Jake! I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Just give it to me!” You beg the man and with only a few more strokes, he pushes himself as deep as he could go inside you, releasing himself deep inside your dripping wet cunt. “Yes! Oh my god—yes!” Your eyes roll back as you move your hips against him, helping him ride out his high inside you.

He clicks his tongue as he kneels down to you, scooping your body in his arms gently to not hurt you so much. He can see the bruises along your body now and instantly feels bad. He hurt you, his innocent little girl that he was sworn to protect. “You alright, Y/N?” He asks worried, laying you down on your hammock and retrieving a blanket to cover you.

You open your eyes to the man standing above you, his loincloth and gear back on his body making you frown. “You’re leaving?” You question sadly and he sighs, looking over at the entrance to your cave.

“Your father will be home soon, Kid. I can’t stay” Jake admits, sad as well that he can’t be with you. You wanted to argue but you knew he was right, giving him a small smile with your arms out for him. He kneels down so his face is level with your own, pressing a passionate kiss against your lips. He hated the fact he had to leave you after doing that with you, he felt like an asshole.

But he couldn’t stay and get caught by your father. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, especially on your birthday.

You both pull away with a smile and Jake looks down beside him, holding up the bin he put there and the medicine he laid out on your small table that acted as a nightstand. “Put some medicine here for when you wake up and the trash is here if you need to throw up, okay? Your father should be home soon so you won’t be alone for long” His finger strokes your cheek and you nod softly, eyes threatening to flutter shut.

“Could you stay until i fall asleep?” Jake looks at you with a softening face, sighing before nodding his head. You were already well on your way, there was no point in saying no. “I’m gonna have the worst hangover, huh?” He chuckles, nodding his head as he lays behind you, pressing his stomach against your back.

“I’ll be here in the morning, don’t worry” Your forehead creases at his words but he quickly shushes you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Gotta help your father with something here, but don’t worry about that now, just close your eyes” He reaches to stroke your hair softly, listening to your purring noises next to him.

You smile, closing your eyes at the sudden touch. You felt safe, so at home with him. You prayed this wasn’t just a dream. “I love you, Jake” The words slip from your mouth and you’re not even worried about them, feeling yourself slipping away already. He chuckles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you so much more, kid”

PURRRRR DOUBLE UPLOAD!!! Sorry if there are mistakes, my keyboard is glitching cause of how long this was 🫠. I’m sweating this was one of my best works 🥲

Tag list: @neytirishottie @luz15sstuff @rinizitos @erenswife5 @myh3artt @jakescumdump @viajaeger @lu-the-ghost-reader @angelsamor @mashiromochi @luvagirlsworld @doggyteam2028

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar x you #avatar james cameron #jake sully x you #jake sully smut #jake sully x omaticaya!reader #jake sully #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x na'vi reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully imagine #atwow jake

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