#outta his own head by getting him to Talk

[your-unfriendlyghost]

No Class

 Aka making Stevepop fight

this fic comes from the h/c I have that Steve’s not really close to anyone at school except Soda and Evie, so when Soda drops out, Steve gets frustrated. I’ll cross post this to Ao3 later I think.

All the Stevepop here is platonic technically but they’ve definitely got…something goin on idk- any way you slice it they’re each other’s person ok? (This is also pre-meeting Evie, that’s why she’s not mentioned lol.)

(edit- wait no i did mention her apparently?? Idk I guess it isn’t pre-Evie??)

There’s also a little inspo here from this post by @dallasgallant - they posted it ages ago but yk I think abt it still lol. I dunno that I really did the concept justice here, as I don’t go….deep into it or anything, but it’s definitely present

-

“You can’t drop outta high school, man,” Steve says weakly. “You…you can’t.”

  Soda sighs, tilting his DX cap down over his face. “Stevie…” he murmurs, voice soft and pleading. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  Steve shakes his head. He can’t wrap his mind around this. Soda can’t- he can’t just leave!

  “God, I dunno, take some of my shifts? Or make Ponyboy get a job?!” Steve says, running a hand down his face. “He’s thirteen, don’t shelter him like that-”

  “Jesus,” Soda mutters, as if there’s something obviously wrong with that that Steve isn't getting.

  “What?!” Steve snaps.

  Soda gives him a dull-eyed stare. “C’mon, he ain’t sheltered.”

  Steve scoffs. “Yeah, right- I’ve seen him cryin’ like a girl, and y’all just let him be a wimp. He's sheltered as hell. But Soda that ain’t the point-”

  Soda’s jaw clenches. “Aw, watch it, man.”

  “No! No, you can’t just leave, I won’t- you can’t- Oh, c’mon, we just have a year left- I mean, believe it or not, Ponyboy can pick up some slack ‘round here too-”

  Now Soda’s eyes flash, and he audibly snorts. “Shut it, you ain’t really one to accuse anyone of bein’ sheltered, Randle.”

  Steve freezes. “The hell does that mean?!”

  Soda shakes his head. “Nup- I shouldn’ta said that. Never mind,” he sighs. 

  “No! No, you tell me what ya mean!” Steve says, painfully aware of how shrill he sounds.

  “Naw. I shouldn’ta opened my damn mouth’. Just…just forget it, Stevie,” Soda insists.

  “Tell me what you mean, man, you said it, you gotta explain it!” Steve argues.

  “No! I don’t wanna talk about this right now, man!”

  “Spell it out for me, why don’t ya?!” Steve says, getting up in Soda’s face now. “‘Cos as far as I know, gettin’ kicked outta my own house all the time sure ain’t sheltered!”

  Soda shoves him back a bit, gently. “Jesus, I never said you was sheltered, I just said that Pony ain’t!”

  “No, no, I heard ya, don’t you go lyin’ to me now, Curtis,” Steve hisses.

  “Fine, ya really wanna know?!” Soda growls. “All I’m sayin’ is that you’re the only grease I know who’s got a three-story house, whose papa still makes good money, and who always has a wallet fulla cash! Yeah your ol’ man ain’t so great, but ya always have new clothes an’ shit-”

  “AIN’T SO GREAT?!” Steve yells, voice booming. “I SLEEP AT YOU AND DAL’S PLACES HALF THE TIME!”

  Soda flinches. “I know! That’s why I took it back! All I’m sayin’ is that you got opportunities that me or Pony’d kill for, and I dunno if ya even know it- but I know you ain’t sheltered, shit, man, I know it, okay?”

  Steve can barely hear him over the angry hot buzzing in his head. Opportunities?! Yeah right, what opportunities?! And the third floor ain't even a third floor, it’s just a damn attic room that Steve moved into for space! Ponyboy’s never been struck by his papa- and sure, Steve hasn’t either, least not after the age of five, but he’s been shoved hard which ain’t so different! Mr. Curtis never looked at Pony with a look burning in his eyes like he hated him. Mr. Curtis never looked at Pony with horror, realizing he’d hurt his son- Mr. Curtis never said GET OUT, because he couldn’t resist hurting him and needed him gone- 

  “Soda-” Steve says, voice high and loud, louder than he means it to be, “fuck-” 

  Soda looks at him, eyes wide, and Steve realizes he’s grabbed the front of Soda’s shirt.

  He huffs and lets go, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I’m goin’ to Dally’s,” he grunts, slinging on his leather jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

  Soda, now tired again, says “Didn’t plan on it.”

  “...Good,” says Steve as he shoves the door open, because he can’t think of anything tougher to say. 

  “Steve?” Soda says, flatly.

  For a second, Steve thinks he’s gonna apologize, because Soda always caves first. He glances over his shoulder at him. “What?”

  “Don’t talk about my brother like that,” Soda says, voice low.

  “Yeah? Well maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive,” Steve bites back. He slams the door.

  Boy, he wishes Soda had just apologized.

-

  On the drive to Dally’s, Steve feels sick. His stomach twists as he replays the conversation in his head.

  Who is he to call Soda sensitive? Steve’s as sensitive as they come. Well, not sensitive, he’s no Ponyboy. Reactive, maybe. 

  But then again- what was Soda on about?! Dropping outta school?! Just to coddle the damn kid?! Steve swallows feverishly at the thought of school without Soda. 

  What about him?! Doesn’t Soda care? It ain’t hard to work at thirteen, Steve started at sixteen but he knows plenty of guys who started younger- Why should Soda bear the burden of leaving school? Why does Ponyboy get to stay?! Sure he’s leavin’ junior high a year early, but he can do school and work at the same time, can’t he?!

  Why’s Soda always gotta sacrifice himself for a spoiled little kid?

  Steve turns a corner too fast and gets honked at. Dammit. He rolls his eyes.

  Doesn’t Soda care about the fact that Steve’s gotta stay in school, and he can’t do that without Soda?!

  And yeah, the Curtises are low on funds, and yeah, Steve isn’t, but he ain’t a Soc either! He doesn’t- he doesn’t buy new clothes all the time- well, sure he has three leather jackets, but he got those for cheap at the charity store! 

  Plus, it was with money I earned from sleepin’ in the lot- Pony’s never had to sleep in the lot, Steve thinks madly. Neither has Soda- he just don’t get it…

  Steve’s not even sure who he’s fixin to complain to about it now. After all, if Soda don’t get it, no one else will.

  But Dal works. Two-Bit too, probably.

-

  Sometimes at night Soda paces. Back and forth, back and forth, in awkward dizzying figure eights. He flicks on the stove and walks to the icebox, turns around and walks back to the threshold where the kitchen meets the living room, and walks to the icebox again. It’s been a day since his argument with Steve.

  Two-Bit’s watching some show on the TV, maybe the Twilight Zone, although Soda’s not rightly sure. Two glances at Soda’s pacing, but doesn’t question it- maybe he would have, normally, but he’s half asleep as is, and besides, he’s probably seen this display plenty before anyhow.

  “Did you just turn the stove in with nothing on it?” Two-Bit asks instead, blinking.

  “Huh? Oh,” Soda says. He puts the kettle on the fire. “Oops.”

  “You gon’ remember to turn it off, ya airhead?” Two-Bit grins.

  Soda grins back, a little sheepishly. If the comment had been from anyone else, it woulda stung. But Two-Bit gets it. He knows the score. After all, he’s a month away from eighteen, yet he’s in the same grade as Soda.

  “You gon’ remind me?” Soda replies, cocking his eyebrow.

  Two snorts. “Naw- leave that to me, an’ you’ll end up with your whole damn house burned down.”

  “Aw, well, that’s just as likely if it’s left to me- I mean, I’m the dumb one, ain’t I?” Soda laughs, but he must’ve done a pretty lousy job at hiding the hollowness in it, ‘cos Two-Bit’s eyes soften.

  “No you ain’t,” Two-Bit sighs, tilting his head back.

  “Sure I am,” Soda spits. “Y’know, sometimes I gotta ask Ponyboy for help on my goddamn homework- you know that, right?” he says, whirling around and walking back to the sink, and then the icebox.

  Two-Bit’s shoulders slump. “Stevie was sayin’ to me and Dally the other night that you was fixin’ to dropout.”

  Soda stiffens. “He did?!”

  “Sorta thought he was just bein’ dramatic at the time, you know how he is…but I reckon he wasn’t after all, huh?” Two says pointedly. Two knows he’s right- when it comes to real knowledge, Two-Bit’s only wrong when it’s funny. He just wants to hear Soda admit it.

  Soda clamps his jaw shut. “That ain’t fair. Ain’t none of his goddamn business. Ain’t yours, neither.”

  “Okay, sure, I reckon that’s a fair assessment,” Two-Bit says easily. “You ain’t gotta tell me nothin’. …You will though, won’tcha.” He says it like a statement, and cocks his eyebrow.

  Soda scowls and opens the cupboard, getting out a box of cereal. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” he says, shoving a handful of cocoa pebbles into his mouth to prove he really doesn’t.

  “Right, you don’t,” Two-Bit says sarcastically.

  “I just don’t get what Sth-teve is so hung up ‘bout!” Soda lisps through the mouthful of cereal.

  Two-Bit smirks, like ah there it is.

  “Sthut up,” Soda groans.

  “Hey hey, my lips are locked, bub,” Two-Bit says innocently.

  “I mean Chrisht-” Soda pauses and swallows the last of the cereal- “he knows I ain't bright, what’s goin’ to school even doin’ for me?! It’s just a waste of time that I oughta spend makin’ money, makin’ myself useful! It ain’t like it’s some damn tragedy, I ain’t Darry!”

  “Hey, no one is,” Two-Bit says, patting Soda’s shoulder.

  “You know what I mean- I mean, I ain’t…I ain’t got no…what’s the word? For when ya could be somethin’...polenta?”

  “Potential, I reckon,” Two-Bit says. “I only know that ‘cause of how often Ma says I’m wastin’ it,” he adds hastily.

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t got none to waste,” Soda sighs. ��I ain’t a sport, I ain’t a brain, and the only classes I’m passin’ are gym and shop. What the hell is the point? Steve oughta know that!”

  “Steve oughta know a lotta things he don’t know,” Two-Bit says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Y’know?”

  Soda blinks. “...Maybe I’m slow, but…ya lost me.”

  Two shrugs. “Well, Stevie-boy ain’t got the same problems as you and me, that’s all.”

  “Right, ‘cos he has more money.”

  “Well, kinda, but I mean he ain’t got no one he’s…lookin’ out for the way we do. He’s just got himself and his folks.”   “Just his dad, really. His mama ain’t been home from the hospital since we were like…fourteen,” Soda corrects on instinct.

  “See?”

  “So? He still can use his heart a bit, can’t he?” Soda protests. 

  “Sure. But when have we ever known him to?”

  Soda wants to protest, ‘cos that isn’t true, not exactly. When Mom and Dad died, it was Steve who held him, who didn’t need him to keep it together. It was Steve who signed up with him for double shifts on the weekends, because Soda needed the money but hated working alone. Steve watches out for Evie, too- when she needs a place to stay, to get away from her stepfather and her mom, she hides out at his place. 

  But Steve’s always disliked Ponyboy. Maybe Two’s right. Maybe Steve just can’t get it.

  But it isn’t like Steve hates the kid, either, right? He just cares more for Soda’s company than he cares about Pony’s grades.

  Soda chews his lip. It isn’t like he’s not sad to be missing out on time with Steve, either. Sitting in class, tossing notes at Steve, sneaking off campus with Steve, wrestling Steve in PE… They’re like the highlight of his school experience. 

  But he’s sixteen now. And unless he plans on getting back into riding rodeos any time soon, his future’s just gas stations, and maybe the army if he gets bored of gas stations. There’s just no point in putting it off if it’s coming either way.

  So yeah, he’ll miss Steve, but Steve’ll just have to deal…right?

  “He just keeps sayin’ it isn’t fair, ‘cos I reckon he’ll miss me,” Soda mutters.

  “Well it ain’t like you’re abandonin’ him,” Two-Bit shrugs. “He’s bein’ dramatic.”

  “He is dramatic,” Soda sighs. Steve’s always been dramatic. 

  But Soda…kinda gets it.

  Steve’s a pretty lonely guy. He’s got Soda, sometimes Two-Bit, sometimes Dally. And he’s got his old man, and his ma, but only when she’s conscious enough to talk.

  Soda puts the cereal box away. “Hey Two, tell Darry I’m at Steve’s place, yeah?”

  Two-Bit smiles faintly. “What’re ya gonna say?”

  “I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

-

  “Hey Steve, come on a walk with me?” Soda says. He’s breathless and red-faced, like he ran here, and is cupping his hands ‘round his mouth to yell up from the backyard.

  He’s gotta do that, ‘cos my room’s on the third floor, Steve notes miserably. He really is the only greaser he knows who lives in a house with three stories. 

  He wants to fly out the window and throw his arms around Soda. Sure, Soda’s wrong, but still…

  He resists that urge though, and instead, he leans out the window and says “I’ll meet ya downstairs.”

  “Tuff.”

  Outside, Soda gives him a little smile. “The uh…weather’s nice, huh?”

  “It’s May,” Steve says. He cringes. He didn’t mean to sound smart-mouthed.

  “Yeah,” Soda says, scrunching his nose. “I guess.”

  “I ain’t…I ain’t a Soc, Soda,” Steve mutters. Sure his old man has a good job and a college degree. They still live on the East Side. Steve’s still never gonna get outta Tulsa.

  Soda nods. “I know that, Stevie. I shouldn’t have said that to ya. I’m not sorry for it though.”

  Steve scowls. “Then what’re ya here for?”

  “To take a walk with my best buddy,” Soda answers, tossing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “C’mon.”

  He leads them down the street, out towards the empty lot. 

  “I don’t like school, Steve,” Soda says, running his hand along a chain link fence. “You know that.”

  “No one does,” Steve mumbles. “That’s why they gotta force ya.”

  “Pony does,” Soda says, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Pony digs school pretty okay.”

  “…I guess.”

  “And y’know, he’s pretty damn good at it, too. Gets all As n’ all.”

  “Except in math,” Steve corrects. Ponyboy definitely got a B- in math last semester.

  “Except in math,” Soda says, smiling. “But the point is, he’s got somethin’ special. He’s got a brain. And he’s gonna get outta this town someday.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real Einstein, huh,” Steve grunts, a stab of irritation in his gut. All hail Ponyboy, child genius, better than downtown hoods like Steve and Soda. “We get it.”

  “C’mon, I gotta be able to support that, y’know?” Soda says, ruffling Steve’s hair. 

  Steve swallows. Fine. Sure. He gets it. He does.

  “But that don’t mean I don’t wanna be ‘round you, you dig?” Soda says.

  Steve’s breath hitches. “Oh- Soda, ‘course I know that,” he says, although he’s not rightly sure he did a second ago.

  “Okay. Fine,” Soda says, amusedly. “But you get it, right? I mean, you’re the only thing I’m gonna miss about that damn school building, savvy?”

  Steve smiles. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Just ‘cos we ain’t gonna have class together don’t mean we’re gonna not…stick together, okay?”

  “It’ll be different,” Steve says, maybe just to be stubborn.

  “Yeah, but not really. You’ll have Two and Dal and Johnny.”

  “Not really. They got other buddies. And it ain’t the same.”

  “Of course it ain’t. Ain’t no one in the world who I like the way I like ya, Stevie. You’re special, and I reckon I’m special to you in the same way, huh?”

  Steve nods, looking at the cracks in the cement under his shoes. 

  “You’re my best friend, Sodapop,” he murmurs. He’s also Steve’s only real friend.

  “You remember how when Dal showed up, how you got all angry?” Soda says, squeezing Steve’s shoulder.

  Steve shrugs, even though he remembers it perfectly. 

  “Yeah, you acted like I was replacin’ ya or something,” Soda grins.

  “You both liked horses. I felt all left out and whatever. Sue me, I was eleven,” Steve says, flushing a bit. 

  “Well I stuck by ya anyhow, even though you’re scared of horses and we all know it.”

  “I’m cautious ‘round horses, not scared,” Steve protests, smiling a little.

  “Sure ya are,” Soda humors him. “The point I’m gettin’ at though is that it was different after Dal met us. Things were different. But I was still me, and you were still you, y’know?”

  Steve nods. “Yeah. I guess,” he says, leaning his head into Soda’s shoulder.

  “So you ain’t mad that I’m droppin’ out then, yeah?” Soda says softly.

  Steve sighs. He is. It’s illogical and unfair, but he’s a little mad still. He lets that throb and die though, in the back of his mind. 

  “I just…I’m gonna miss ya,” Steve says.

  “I’m gonna miss ya too. But we’ve always got work, and the weekends, and hell Stevie, it’s nearly summer, so you ain’t gonna have to worry ‘til September. And then after that, you’ll graduate and we can be free to hang whenever we want for the rest of time.”

  “I wanna hang with ya for the rest of time,” Steve says, so quietly he almost can’t hear himself.

  “Good,” Soda grins. “Me too.”

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Do you think F.reddy would take advantage of the situation if for one or another reason his bandmates slip and fall into his chest cavity?

I think he absolutely would.

“You really should be more careful,” F.reddy says as he helps M.onty up. The band is practicing on the stage, trying to figure out some new choreography for a song they’re doing. It’s going...well enough, except M.onty keeps moving around clumsily and has tripped over something several times now.

“I am bein’ careful!” M.onty demands with a huff. “It ain’t my fault stuff keeps gettin’ in my way!”

F.reddy sighs softly as M.onty stomps off. “Alright then...let’s take it from the top, everyone!” He smiles again as he gets the band back in their starting positions to do another rehearsal.

It goes well enough, at least at first. But then M.onty stumbles off his platform after stepping wrong and he goes tumbling down with a yelp. F.reddy notices and turns to try and catch him, only for the gator to crash into him and knock them both down.

F.reddy groans a bit as his vision flashes slightly. That hurt a bit. But…no, it’s not pain he’s feeling. It’s a different sensation—a much nicer one, in fact, coming from his chest. He looks down and gasps.

M.onty has managed to get his entire head wedged between F.reddy’s pecs. His muffled roaring was vibrating through F.reddy’s chest and it felt good. The gator’s thrashing around, large paws resting on either pec as he tries to pull himself free, but it’s just making the muscles clamp tighter.

Now, F.reddy knows he should let M.onty out and give him a more stern talking to about being careful. But the sensation is just…really good. F.reddy’s chest is clenching tight, eager to keep hold of its prey, and the bear finds it hard to deny himself the treat. It really is M.onty’s own fault for not listening, F.reddy reasons, as he wraps his arms around the gator and flexes his chest.

A muffled yelp comes from the bear’s chest as M.onty finds himself being held tighter and tugged deeper. His arms are pinned down by F.reddy’s hug, and just one flex has dragged his shoulders and most of his chest into the bear’s own. Once the shock wears off, M.onty is even more enraged.

Despite all his angry roaring and attempts to struggle, M.onty’s making very little headway on escape. His legs kick around wildly and his tail whips back and forth, but it’s all he can manage. His arms struggle against F.reddy’s, and once another tight flex drags him deeper, they’re struggling against the bear’s pecs instead.

F.reddy’s already letting the pleasure envelop him. It always felt good to cram something living into his pecs, but something as big and squirmy as M.onty after a day of rehearsal just feels even better. He flexes again with a pleased rumble, dragging the rest of M.onty’s torso into his chest and leaving only his ass and legs hanging out.

By that point, it’s been maybe a minute since they fell over. B.onnie and F.oxy finally got over to the two, just to see F.reddy getting back to his feet with M.onty’s legs kicking around wildly. “Woah, Fred, that’s a serious spill!” B.onnie says. “Hold still while we get Mont outta—“

F.reddy grunts and groans happily as he flexes his chest again, suddenly slurping in most of M.onty’s legs. He puts a paw on the bottom of M.onty’s feet and shoves down hard, forcing the rest of the gator into his chest. M.onty’s flicking tail tip is the last thing to slurp out of sight.

The other two watch as F.reddy’s pecs bounce on their own with M.onty struggling inside. They’re heavy and bloated and bulge out occasionally with a pressing hand or M.onty’s face. And F.reddy huffs in pleasure, his ears wiggling a bit as he feels the gator squirming and snapping inside of him.

“Er…Cap’n, don’t ye think he’s learned his lesson?” F.oxy asks. “Perhaps we should try to get him out before—“

F.reddy wasn’t listening—or maybe he was and didn’t care. He gropes his own chest a bit, then closes his eyes and flexes hard. M.onty screeches inside and there’s the sound of crunching, cracking metal. F.reddy’s pecs sink back a bit. Despite that, M.onty seems to be fighting even harder, getting more desperate and panicked.

The other two can only watch as F.reddy keeps mulching their fellow bandmates down. Every flex makes the bear’s chest sink back more, another part of M.onty being crushed down into mass with grisly sounds and loud screaming. It’s making the gator’s rage steadily turn into fear as more and more of him is turned into muscle mass.

By the end, M.onty had stopped making noise. A few more flexes crunch the last bits of him down and F.reddy is looking better off for it. Thicker pecs, more defined muscles, and he looks a bit taller. A pleased sigh comes from him and he feels up his new chest a bit more.

“Alright, we can get back to rehearsal now,” F.reddy says with a smile. He scratches between his pecs a bit and manages to hook something. He pulls out M.onty’s sunglasses, the lens broken and the frame warped. “We’ll just cut M.onty’s part for now…”

B.onnie and F.oxy both nod in agreement and quickly get back into place. They didn’t feel like arguing about it now. Besides, things’ll probably go more smoothly now anyway.

[wernerherzogs]

i know that characters are sometimes forced to say dumb/ooc things in order to remind the GA of plot points from an episode prior. i know this. but it's still so funny they had EDDIE act all surprised because of buck's turn at master baker. my brother in former catholicism you were canonically the very first person to learn about the breakup you Know what's been going on.

[nanaslutt]

gojo & geto fucking their pretty bestfriend (you guessed it, you<3) in the eiffel tower position <333

contains: fem reader, threesome, the boys are gay for each other, choking, hair pulling, dirty talk ofc, kinda rough, gojo is a brat, satosugu are switches, sub reader tho

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

"fucking christ this pussy is killing me," geto has a strong hold on your hips as he pulls you back on his dick, similtaniously knocking gojos cock deeper into your throat, making your eyes water as you gag around him

"hahaha don't tell me ur about to cum already Suguru, we jus started," gojos hand is resting on the underside of your throat, so he can feel his dick every time geto fucks you into him

"shut the fuck up satoru," geto hisses and gojo infuriatingly laughs in response, "how are you doin princess?" gojo directs his attention to you

there is no way you were responding while in the state you were currently in, coughing and sputtering spit around gojos cock while geto expertly fucked straight into your g-spot

"whats that? gotta speak up baby, cant understand you" he coos, whiping the tears and spit off your cheek with his slender fingers

if you had half a mind, you would've slapped gojo for being such a bully, but luckily for him, you didn't have half a mind, geto stuck up for you though; ever the sweetheart he is; "such a fuckin bully satoru, maybe I should fuck you next while they sit on your face, see how you fucking feel then huh?"

you couldnt lie that the thought of suffocating gojo between your thighs and having him suck on your clit while geto fucked high pitched whines out of him didnt sound like the worst idea in the world, but that was for another day

reaching down between your legs you rubbed quick circles on your clit while digging your nails into gojos thigh to stabilize yourself,

"oh, i think someone likes that idea" geto smiled, feeling you squeeze and pulse around him, "you wanna help me fuck the brat outta gojo princess? bet we'd make such a g-good team" he punctuated with a particularly deep thrust, almost making you lose yoru balance, resulting in you digging your nails impossibly deeper into gojos thigh

and gojo fucking moaned like a bitch, tipping his head back, both his hands instinctly gripping your hair as he hunched over you biting his lip, taking a deep breath and slowing his hips down, it took every once of his strength not to fill your mouth with his cum at that second

you choked at the rough treatment but were grateful when gojos hips slowed, the opportunity arose to swallow air into your lungs again and you greedily took it

geto's rough treatment of your poor abused pussy bouncing you a little on gojo's cock still, but the loss of gojo also assisting was a nice change of pace

gojo looked up through his lashes at the raven haired man, he was fucking smirking

this had now become a competition, as most things did between them

abandoning one of the hands he had gripped on your hair and reaching out in front of him instead, his target? geto's hair

gripping suguru's signature bun and pulling his face close to his, lips grazing each other as he smiled against the ravens lips, geto's smile now wiped completely off his face, his jaw now slack as he stared into gojos eyes, knowing exactly what gojo was getting at

"i know kissin gets you all hot huh, you wanna kiss me suguru?" his jaw opening slightly, tipping his head back and forth as he looks between sugurus eyes and his lips

you felt geto's cock twich inside you, his pace stuttering a bit at gojo's words, gripping your hip a little harder, for his own sanity, he would apologize for the bruises later

"what do you think baby, should I let him kiss me, huh? he'll probably fill you up the second I get my tongue in his mouth."

the speed at which the roles between them keep reversing is giving you whiplash, bringing you closer and closer to your own release

you try to speak around him, wanting to tell him 𝒚𝒆𝒔𝒚𝒆𝒔 ���𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒕, opting to just nod as your mouth was filled to the brim with gojo's thick cock

"yeah, think i will, good call baby," he rubs his thumb on the top of your head soothingly as his attention is now back on geto

"what do you say suguru?" the mans mouth is so close to suguru's own, his eyes now staring at the place theyre about to be connected at

"thank you, thank you princess." he says as gojo finally lets their lips crash together

and its soooo messy, the kiss; if you can even call it that; is all teeth and tongue, both the men moaning into the others mouth, their moans rising in pitch

geto feels like he could cum at any second, but what kind of man would he be if the one who allowed him to cum in the first place didn't get to squirt all over his pretty cock first?

he blindly reaches down between your legs, pushing your own hand out of the way as he quickly finds your clit and rubs is back and forth at a speed that has the coil in your tummy to wind faster than it ever has

"squirt on me baby," he whines into the blondes mouth obscenely "need to feel you cum all over- m-my dick, please baby" he’s whining

suguru's kisses becoming less and less reciprocating as his jaw goes slack and gojo's keeps tongue slides into his mouth

your legs snap together as your cum squirts out all over geto's toned thighs, moans muffles, choking on gojo's cock bordering on blacking out from air deprivation and sheer pleasure as you have the longest and hardest orgasm of your fucking life "m gonna cum, o-oh my god oh my god, fuck gojo fuck, 'm gunna cum, m gonna fill her up" gojo moves his hand to geto's throat, squeezing his throat, hard, tipping his head into sugurus

"m right there with you baby, gunna cum inside her pretty pussy, yeah? gonna cum inside her while I mess up her tight little throat?" hes talking geto through it

and youre trying to keep yourself awake as they fuck you from both ends into overstimulation, squeezing your pussy and swallowing around them both as you try to milk them for all theyre worth

ome of suguru's hands leaving its place on your hip to grab gojos wrist as the white-haired man tightens his grip, knowing just how to bring him to his climax

geto stills before he hunches forward over you and into gojo as he fucks rope after rope of his hot cum into your abused pussy, moans broken up by gasps as gojo tightens and loosens his grip on suguru's throat

quickly pulling out his cock from your mouth gojo pumps his cock at an inhumane pace, your heaving but you still instinctively stick your tonge out, like the good girl you are as his thick cum covers your face, he would feel bad about covering your hair and long pretty eyelashes with his cum but.. who is he kidding, he doesnt feel bad at all, his favorite girl with his seed all over your face, its the prettiest sight hes ever seen

letting your head fall against gojos thigh as your chest rises and falls rapidly, wincing as geto pulls out his softening cock from behind you, biting his lip stairing down at your ruined hole

"heh, i-," "shut the fuck up and come look at at this" suguru cuts off his best friend, gojo pouts but gently slides your head off his thigh to crawl to the other end of the bed and check out the veiw the raven-haired man is so adamant on showing him

your so red and your pussy is so puffy and angry, geto's cum has been steadily dripping out of you and down your thigh

gojo whistles as he pulls your lips apart to get a better look, he swipes his thumb on you, collecting some of your combined cum together, you whine at how sensitive and sore you already are

gojo pushes your shoulder back twords the bed so your chest is facing the ceiling as he leans over you and slips his thumb in your mouth, making you taste you and suguru's combined mess, "what do you say, pretty?" he watches your lips wrap around his finger befoer he pops it out of your mouth

"t-thank you" you say, voice hoarse

gojo giggles, starting to get up from the bed to get some towels to clean the three of you up

"so," you start "when were you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?"

part 2 :p

[mintmatcha]

Continuation.

Bakugo Katsuki swore that he would die before he let you have Izuku's number.

And yet, somehow, the three of you have ended up together for drinks.

He thinks it's a fair compromise; Izuku can ask his million questions, Bakugo can kill the rumors that the two of you are together, you can-

He's not sure what your goal is, but he can see it shining in your eyes.

Izuku is still in his teaching clothes, a pristine button up rolled up to the elbows and a pressed pair of pants. There's an extra shine and coil to his curly hair, and it smells like sandalwood; he put effort into his appearance and Bakugo knows it isn't for him.

Your words echo in the back of his mind: people always want what they can't have.

"You worked for the commission? As a hero?" Izuku asks you.

You never give direct answers- just these convenient truths delivered with a pretty smile.

"I'm retired."

Lipstick clings to the rim of your drink. It makes your lips looks soft and round, even when you run your tongue across your teeth.

"Retired?" Izuku asks. "Wow, I'm kind of jealous."

"She's my social media manager." Bakugo cuts in. "And a tiktok person."

Not his girlfriend, he wants to add, but he refrains.

"Kacchan says you have a cool quirk." Izuku talks without pause, rambling mostly to himself in that way Katsuku has taught himself to find endearing. His attention never wanes away from you, but you don't blush or squirm. You sit and endure with that damn smile on your face. "What is it called? How does it work? I tried to Google it, but nothing comes up. You are so young to be retired, I just-"

You lean forward and place a hand on Izuku's upper thigh, cutting him off midsentence.

"You have very beautiful eyes," you say, slow, stepping gently over every word. "Wide, wet: like a rabbit's."

Izuku snaps silent. Each one of your nails taps against his thigh, one by one. Bakugo watches how your thumb swipes side to side, how your lips part with your exhale, how your smile creeps up all on its own as you lean even closer-

"You twitch like one too."

"Oh, wow, uh-" Izuku stutters, his whole face flushing a dark pink, so strong it eats his freckles. Finally, someone else understands your goddammit issues. Bakugo swallows down the strange feeling in his chest with the last dregs of his beer.

"I'm going to get a drink, I think." Izuku stands, pulling away from your touch.

"Grab me a beer?" Katsuki shakes his empty can. Izuku nods, then looks at you.

"Soda water with lime."

"No alcohol?"

"I like to keep my wits about me."

The man nods, then practically scurries off to the bar. You huff, content, like a dog that's bought it's master their hunt.

"You scared the fuck outta him."

"He liked it." You pick a piece of lint off of your skirt. "They always do. Watch: he'll come back and sit even closer to me."

Bakugo throws himself back into his seat, arms crossed. "You're so damn cocky."

"Look who's talking, Kacchan." You tilt your head, pouting your lips with fake sincerity. "I can call you that, right? As your girlfriend?"

He sinks even lower in his chair. "You aren't my girlfriend."

"I could be." You mimic him. You lean back and let your knees spread just a bit, just enough that he could see what under if he tried- "The sex would be phenomenal."

That hits him like a shot. It's not that he wants to have sex with you, but he can't deny that the thought crosses his mind every now and again. He thinks about it when he's alone, when the bed feels too big, when he's-

"You don't fucking know that!" He's too angry already, especially compared to your nonplussed response.

"I do.'

"You don't even fucking know me." He points a finger back at you. "And I don't know anything about you."

"It's better if you don't know."

Bakugo sneers. Another nonanswer. He looks back towards Izuku, who's locked in conversation with the bartender. Why would you even bother with him? Someone like you would rip through him like tissue paper. You're right- he is a rabbit, and you're a dog, waiting with your sharp teeth to-

A hand cups his ear. Bakugo watches as you lean in over the table, bringing your lips to his ear.

"I grew up in the commission. One of their little project kids," you whisper. Sometimes, your lips make contact with cartilage and his skin sparks with heat. "I did things for them. Bad things. Illegal things."

"You kill people?" he whispers back.

"You know the answer to that." With every word, you creep closer, until your hands are on his thighs now. "They forced me to retire when Hawks took over. No more need for girls with bloody hands."

It's the truth. Your voice is painfully sincere for once, a strange change from your usual composed self. You're just giving him what he wants, but it's working. It's working. He almost puts his hand around your waist.

If Izuku is a rabbit, he's a fox, and you've lured him out of his fucking burrow. At this point, he'd welcome your teeth in his neck.

"What else should I tell you? My favorite color's red, I love the beach. You're not allowed to pull my hair, I never sleep over after sex," you continue. "I have a scar on my chest. So, you're not surprised when you see it later."

"Stop assuming that I'm going to fuck you."

"Oh, you're going to." You slink back over to your seat. Hands folded over your lap- a snake ready to strike. "I'm going to flirt with Izuku until you break-"

You turn your attention away from him, waving towards the approaching Izuku. "And then you're gonna fuck my brains out, Kacchan."

There's no time to respond before Izuku teeters back, blaming three drinks with a little difficulty. He hands then out, then sits back down-

So close to you that his thigh brushes yours.

"Thank you, little rabbit," you tease, eyes flicking back to Bakugo with a knowing, smug smile.

Fuck, Bakugo thinks. Fuck.

[bratbby333]

gamer!bf sukuna drabble

·:*¨༺ nsfw mdni ༻¨*:·

gamer!bf sukuna who is always sat at his desk, shooting at something

gamer!bf sukuna who will lose track of time and play for hoursss, not even acknowledging your existence until you interrupt his game play with dinner

gamer!bf sukuna who buys you your own gaming set up after catching you playing on his computer when you think he isn't home (he positions your new monitor and gaming chair right next to his)

gamer!bf sukuna who laughs in your face when you ask if he wants to play minecraft with you (how dare you recommend something that isn't violent? silly little thing. do you even know him?)

"so childish... why the fuck would i play that?"

gamer!bf sukuna who feels bad after you pout at him for making fun of you, reluctantly agreeing to play fortnite (the tamest game he'll play)

gamer!bf sukuna who is never not yelling at someone through his headset

"you stupid fuck! ask your mother how my dick tastes"

gamer!bf sukuna who loves when you pull up a chair to watch him play

gamer!bf sukuna who let's you sit in his lap, the controller in your hands with his hands over yours, pushing the buttons for you... the elated grin on your face when you finally kill someone makes his dick hard

"baby! i did it! i got him!" "that's my good girl, now let me reward you"

gamer!bf sukuna who loves that you play animal crossing at your desk next to him while he plays cs:go and valorant, you eventually put on your noise canceling headphones because he won't stop screaming

"what the actual FUCK was that? you're trash. GET OUT OF MY LOBBY"

gamer!bf sukuna who finally agrees to play minecraft with you after weeks of begging, enjoying it more than he thought he would (the face you make when he finally says yes causes his heart flutter just a little bit... but he'll never tell you that, constantly groaning at how boring it is, but playing it with you for three hours)

he runs around killing creepers and skeletons to quell his homicidal ideations instead of helping you build a house "why the hell would we build a fake house when we're literally sitting in our real one?" so fucking sassy for no reason he'd run around collecting a mob of enemies instead, luring them into a pit before sealing it off and dumping a bucket of lava on them, laughing as they slowly burn to death...bro is insane i stg...

gamer!bf sukuna who let's you wear his headset while he plays a 1v1 in a custom lobby, laughing at his opponents obvious anger and frustration thinking they're losing to you (COD is so misogynistic, and sukuna is thoroughly amused when he gets to put them in their place on your behalf)

gamer!bf sukuna who beams with pride when you start picking up on gaming terms

"that guy sucks, he's just camping", you say, brows furrowed in annoyance. "who the fuck did you learn that word from?" "who do you think i learned it from, dumbass?" you retort, a taunting smile on your lips. he just grins, "god, you're so fuckin' sexy. but drop the attitude before i fuck it outta you."

gamer!bf sukuna who attempts to teach you how to play call of duty, battlefield, and cs:go

"you'll get better, doll. just keep tryin'"

gamer!bf sukuna who refuses to admit that he actually enjoys playing minecraft with you, hoping you'll suggest to play it first

gamer!bf sukuna who looks down from his monitor to see you kneeling under his desk, head between his legs, sucking him off while he's on discord talking to his friends; tangling his hands in your hair, biting the inside of his cheek when you deepthroat him unexpectedly, his hips bucking off his chair. "you dirty fuckin' girl, it's like you want them to hear" he moans out. his friends erupt in laughter after hearing him, but he doesn't want you to stop. exhibitionist!sukuna has entered the chat

"you can stay and listen if you want, at least im gettin' some unlike you virgins"

gamer!bf sukuna who fucks you rough when he loses a game

"god you're so fuckin' tight for me" he groans, his grip tight on your hips. he looks down to watch your pretty pussy suck him in. you squirm, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you with every trust, whining as he pushes your head into the mattress, his strokes unrelenting. "uh uh. don't move...stay right fuckin' there n take this dick, brat."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: hehehe...this was super fun to write. if you have any requests, send them here! if u wanna be added to my anon club, drop an emoji with ur submission and ill add u to my pinned post ☺︎

i've already written longer, smut-filled stories of gamer!bf sukuna,,u can read them here and here and here

thank u liking, commenting, and reblogging...it makes me kick my feet n giggle when i get the notification ♡

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[chelseeebe]

yours, forever

18+ mdni. smut. mean!exhusband!eddie;) breeding kink if you squint a lil

a/n: i was not expecting to post again so soon but this genuinely couldn’t wait lol. i have another parts to this little piece so lmk if you’d like to see it. someone posted a really really good exhusband!eddie fic like a month ago and ive lost it, but they inspired this entire thing!

^it was this post by @madelynraemunson !!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

eddie wasn’t expecting to find you standing on the other side of the door, nor had he expected you to barge right past him and into his kitchen. 

you seemed to show up with zero rhyme or reason, typically wanting something from him. 

that was fine, appreciated even. 

he just wasn’t a fan of you waltzing into his home with the sole purpose of talking about your pig of a husband. 

“david wanted me to ask you if he could take the kids up to washington to see his parents,” you stand awkwardly at the kitchen island, his apartment a shell of the house you once owned together. 

eddie pauses, launching the dish towel onto the counter and laughs, deep and gravely as he swings back around, “no.” 

“why not?” you huff, blinking expectantly at your petulant ex. he’d always been a sucker for your eyes, divorce couldn’t changed that. 

“because i said so,” leaning against the marbled counter, “he asked you to ask me and i said no, that’s it. done.” 

“you’re being stubborn,” crossing your arms over your chest, scolding in the way you talk to him. 

“i don’t care.”

“eddie,” stepping forward. 

“sweetheart,” his tone disapproving as he also steps up, closing the gap between you, “no,” enunciating the word in hopes that you’d actually understand now. 

“don’t be an asshole,” you frown, a couple years ago you’d pout and get your own way but now eddie found great satisfaction in telling you no.  

“i’m not being an asshole, you asked me a question and i answered, dave can go to washington, but you and my kids can’t,” his lip twitching into a dastardly smirk. any minute now you’d crack, really let loose on his ass. 

“oh, so now i can’t go? who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” poking your sharp finger into his chest, a fury behind your eye that almost instantly made him hard. 

“the father of our kids? or have you forgotten about that?” 

“unfortunately not,” rolling your eyes, nonetheless you make no effort to leave, your bag already on the counter, signifying that what he assumed would happen next was definitely going to happen next. 

“you don’t mean that,” sidling closer, trapping your body between the counter and his chest, “because if you did, you wouldn’t let me keep fucking the shit outta you.”

eddie’s rock solid now, this was foreplay for him, getting high off of the way you argued with him, degrading him right to his face. 

“shut up,” rolling your eyes to the back of your head, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, “you’re so pathetic,” glancing down at his boner now pressing against your cunt. 

“mmhmm,” he wouldn’t fight it, in fact, he’s proud of it, “only for you though,” finding your hips, palming at the doughy flesh. 

your lips twitch and he knows he’s won this fight, planting your lips to his, a firm hand on his chest just to remind him who was really in charge. 

sighing into your mouth as you move against him, his hands running beneath the seam of your skirt, feeling his way up the backs of your thighs to settle on your ass. 

“eds,” you hum, pulling away from his lips, “i’ve gotta go pick the boys up,” making zero effort to stop the inevitable, your chest flush against his.

“well better make it quick this time then,” he growls, walking your body into the countertop, manhandling your body to face you against the hard counter, pressing up against the swell of your ass. his belt clinks as his jeans fall down around his thighs, boxers following behind. 

“this is.. i have to go,” you gasp, rolling your head back to allow his lips room to find your neck, nuzzling right into his favourite spot just tucked underneath your jaw. 

“then why don’t you leave?” his gruff voice vibrates against your chin as his hands slide underneath your shirt, spilling your tits from your bra to get a full handed grope of them. 

your hand rests atop of his, the other gripping to the countertop for dear life. 

you’re not going to leave, that much is obvious. eddie’s also fairly certain that you’ve got at least an hour before you have to go. he’s not stupid, you play the game just as much as he does, pretending to leave just to pounce on him straight after. 

“that’s what i thought,” sarcastic as ever, threatening to score violet splotches behind on your neck, though his lips detach before he’s able to. 

eddie lets his thoughts slip back to the reason you’re even here, letting himself get frustrated by your blind audacity all over again. 

“you must be fucking stupid coming in here, asking me shit like that,” his large, calloused hand pawing at your tits, the other yanking your panties down to hang around your thighs. 

“no i’m not,” arguing back though you’re completely docile, allowing him to bend your torso over the marbled countertop, his hands groping your plush skin. “he’s my..” sigh, “husband now and you need to- fu-uck respect that,” fingers curling around his arm, pinching at the skin when he slides inside with no warning. 

“what was that?” eddie mocks, slamming into your cunt with little remorse, full of years of pent up frustration and a tiny dose of regret. 

once upon a time, this was his everyday. having you absolutely anywhere he wanted, and now it was solely reserved for times you really needed him to agree to something. or perhaps david had done something stupid, as he often did. sending you running back to eddie like a feeble little deer. 

“shut up,” sighing in time with his rough strokes, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoes through his barren kitchen, filthy sounds of sex wailed through his apartment far more often than they should. 

before you’d met david, he’d see you once a week while dropping the kids off, maybe he’d get to taste you a couple times a month, if he was lucky. it was only after you remarried that you’d come around unannounced, asking about something that most definitely could’ve been a call. 

eddie doesn’t care, you’re the only woman for him anyway, a couple divorce papers couldn’t change that. 

“you fuckin’ love it,” he growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair and fiercely tugging your head back, “y’gotta drive all the way over here just to cum, ain’t that sad?” speaking low right into your ear, his arms keeping a strong hold of your torso as your knees grow weak. 

“you don’t.. you’re- fuck you,” knuckles glowing white with your grip on the counter, other hand desperately nuzzling between your thighs, circling your neglected clit. 

“have to speak up honey, i can’t hear you,” the tip of his cock nudges against your soft spot, eliciting a strangled mewl from your pretty wetted lips. 

“i can make myself cum,” you speak proudly through gritted teeth, voice bouncing around with every slam of his hips, “i don’t need you,” rubbing your clit harsher, as if to prove a point. 

“oh yeah? show me baby.. let me see you cum,” slowing his strokes but keeping his cock firmly enveloped inside, jaw clenching with every squeeze and quiver of your cunt. 

eddie palms your tit, getting as much satisfaction from this as you were. your whimpers alone could make him cum, hell, just a look and he was rock solid in his jeans. 

“oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” gasping into the air, leant back against his shoulder, head turning to hide in the nook of his neck as you teeter over, waves of pleasure shocking your body. 

“shit,” he grunts underneath his breath, feeling you writhe around in his arms, “that was good sweetheart, my turn,” resuming his assault on your cunt, breath stuttering as his hips begin to rock again. 

his hand replaces yours, slipping between your thighs to find your clit, thrusts becoming sloppy and weak as the blood rushes to his head, sending his stomach into a series of somersaults. 

even in your separation, your pleasure came first. an important pocket of information wayne had awkwardly handed him when his voice started cracking and girls no longer had cooties. 

you’re putty in his arms, fully relying on the countertop to keep you upright, thighs quivering with the intensity of your orgasm and the anticipation of the quickly approaching next one. 

“oh.. my.. god,” whining with every thrust, your voice thick with lustrous air, too fucked out to stand or even think straight. 

“i’m gonna, sh-shit cum sweetheart,” pounding recklessly into your trembling pussy, dripping in a mixture of your juices. 

you clench around him, tipping over the edge once more, barely able to hold yourself upright with shaking knees and a harsh grip of his arm. 

eddie isn’t, nor had he ever been one for pulling out, he liked running that risk, the thrill of maybe knocking you up again. 

three kids don’t happen without at least one accident, that’s for sure. 

he doesn’t now, pumping the thick ropes of his release into your cunt, groaning belligerently as he does so. praying to god this was the time it stuck, pregnant with his child once again. 

you fall flat against the counter, heaving for breath with the last of his pathetic strokes, growling into the stuff air. 

he slaps a harsh palm to your ass for good measure, trailing his hand down your trembling thighs, “so you run along home now and tell him exactly what i told you,” fingering the lace of your panties as he hikes them back over your thighs.

“no.”

[rafescvntyclubgf]

"𝐘𝐨𝐮" - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

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

*Rafe is in his 40s

𝖈𝖔-𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍: @nadvs

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶���𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝓌𝑜

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers ⚠️

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

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

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

🔪Hello, You.🔪

6.8 K

Rafe’s POV:

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

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

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

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

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

“Zachary.”

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

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

“Ten years.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sis: Did you want anything to eat?

Zach: Nah. I’m fine.

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

Zach: Please and thank you.

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

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

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

“She’s a Kappa Girl.”

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

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

“Runs in the family. Huh?”

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

“You good?”

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

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

Fuck me.

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

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

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

Hello, you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chett said 9 PM at Little Angie’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Zach asks confusedly.

“Proctoring…”

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

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

“Yeah… See you tonight, brother.”

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

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

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

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

There you are. Fuck, are you even real?

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

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

Oh, sweetheart. You need me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Hey. It’s alright,” I coo.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Anything you want you get, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

“Pajamas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow night, princess. I promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Messages, first.

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

Chett: you free tonight?

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

Chett: yeah we can do something on Friday too

Chett: cmon pretty. I owe you a beer

Y/n: just a beer? 😉

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

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

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

Y/n: what does that mean?? 😂

Chett: your a good girl

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

Y/n: okay 💕

Chett: you better not stand me up

Y/n: never ☺️

Chett: on my way

Y/n: I'm at the bar

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

Y/n: ???

Y/n: are you okay?

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

Y/n: I knew you were an asshole

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

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

Rafe Cameron

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

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

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

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

Good girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

I’m nothing without you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

RING. RING. RING.

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

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

“M’Yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” you whimper.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll just have to settle for that tonight.

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

“Stay.”

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

[rissouu]

it was well known that choso was a family man before anything. when he found out about your pregnancy, he was nearly bouncing off the walls in joy. everything was so perfect at first.. watching his daughters first step with you, her first words, all of it.

but that was years ago now. somehow in the midst of the up and downs of having a newborn, your relationship started to fall down the drain. so much so that it got the point you both just called it off, neither of you having the energy to keep trying to save yourselves from the inevitable.

he was still there for his daughter of course, that’s one thing he wouldn’t dare to lack in. but it was so hard to be around his daughter without the thought of you in the back of his head, he fucking missed you.

and after drowning in his sorrows for so long, he finally built up the courage to talk to you and act like a real man.

that’s what got you here, with one leg wrapped around his waist in hopes to keep him trapped in you. “p..please baby, missed this ‘s much- missed you so much!”

choso chuckled lowly, silver chains dangling from his neck and hovering over your sweaty face. his hands locked around your plump thighs, helping to hold them in place.

“y’missed me mama, really? what about all those fuckin’ dates of yours hm?”

his blood boiled thinking about it, all those times he had to hear from your daughter that you were out, out with other men.

you tried ignoring his question at first, not having the energy in you to utter a word. but you nearly lost it when his big calloused hands pushed on your lower stomach, applying pressure to your abdomen.

“you don’t hear me talking to you? what did i tell you about that shit?” his head tilted, drops of his sweat falling from his chest to yours. you never felt more full.

puddles of your own spit piled in your throat making it hard to speak or even breathe. you couldn’t help it when you started choking, just as choso couldn’t help it when he started pushing down harder. “mm please, please cho i hear you! ‘m sorry, never gonna go on any dates ever again!”

he chuckled lowly at your fucked out state. drool and sweat covering almost every inch of your face, hair messy and tangled as if you’d just woken up.

“you let anybody touch my perfect pussy since i been gone mama? or my pretty tits?” he cupped your soaking cunt in his palm, his thrusts only getting rougher, quicker.

all you could give him was an aggressive shake of your head, which was the truth. choso was the only man you’d ever let have you like this.

“such a good girl, my good girl.” he left soft kisses to your forehead, serving as a thank you for taking him so well. “what d’ya say we give our baby a couple siblings? you’re such a good mama, and i heard she’s been pretty lonely all by herself..”

©rissouu 2025 (pls i literally pulled this shit outta my ass, but imagine cho as a baby daddy?? i need him..)

dom!choso collection

[rafecameronssl4t]

Officially your bitch || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

Summary: basically what happened in s1 ep 2 when Sarah is getting a teddy from the boat with Rafe, Kelce, and Topper watching but obvs slightly different. (you being the one faking being hurt)

Warnings: swearing, mention of gun,

Word count: 977

A/n: canon fics are so fun to write 😫

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board here

"Jeez, man, this is nuts." Topper lets out a low whistle, staring at a boat nestled in someone's garden bed. "Agatha's a bitch," Rafe mutters. "Damn right, she is," Kelce adds as the three boys gape at the sight.

"I can't get it outta my head. It's on repeat. 'Your move, broski.'" Topper repeats JJ's words from a couple nights ago, when a gun was pointed at his head. "Bro, he had a semiautomatic pointed right at you!" Kelce chimes in.

"That's what I'm saying. It's insane!" Topper scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Safety off!" he emphasizes, his voice rising. Kelce shakes his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and disdain. "That pogue," he mutters, his tone dripping with contempt.

Rafe, who had been staring intently at the waterline, snaps back to the conversation. His gaze sharpens as he looks at his friends. "They're freakin' pogues, man," he declares, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and exasperation.

"You know, you should get a piece," Rafe suggests, his voice steady as he looks at Topper. The gravity of his words hangs in the air. "What do you mean?" Topper asks, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he turns to Rafe.

"You gotta fight fire with fire and defend the homestead," Rafe replies matter-of-factly, as if it's the most logical solution in the world. "Better than being caught without one," Kelce shrugs, offering his own brand of nonchalant support. Rafe nods in agreement, his gaze unwavering.

"Listen guys, I'm gonna get him back, all right? I'm making it a little project of mine," Topper reassures them. Rafe hums approvingly, patting his friend's back. "Yeah, you should," he affirms with a smirk.

Kelce suddenly taps Rafe's shoulder. "Yo, that's y/n." Rafe and Topper turn their heads in unison, their curiosity piqued. They see you kneeling on one knee, talking gently to Joy, your mum's best friend's little daughter.

"Oh, so you left her in the boat?" you ask softly, your voice filled with understanding. Joy nods, her eyes wide with worry. "Okay, can you tell me what she looks like?" you stand up, smoothing down your shorts. Joy looks up at you, her face serious. "She has a trunk and blue eyes," she replies, her small voice clear.

The three boys watch intently as you smile reassuringly at Joy. "Okay, I'm gonna get her for you," you say, turning towards the boat. "Be careful of the electricity," Joy quietly warns. You smile to yourself, touched by her concern, and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you carefully step onto the boat.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay. It's really dangerous, so stay there, okay?" you reassure Joy with a confident smile. Rafe, standing a few feet away, removes his sunglasses, his eyes narrowing as he watches your every move. "What's she doing?" he mutters to no one in particular, his concern evident.

"Watch her fall and make a big drama out of it," your brother scoffs, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed by your antics. Rafe glances at Topper, eyebrows raised. "Hey! There's 14,000 volts in those wires," Joy's mum calls out urgently from the porch, her voice filled with anxiety.

You take a slow, deliberate step onto the plank, feeling it wobble slightly under your weight. With a mischievous grin, you glance back at the onlookers, enjoying the attention. A quiet shriek escapes your lips as you pretend to lose your balance for a moment.

"Hey, y/n, be careful!" Rafe hollers, his voice louder and more urgent now. He takes a step forward, his body tense with concern. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," your mum mutters as she walks out onto the yard, her face a mask of frustration and fear. "Y/n, get down now!" she shouts, her tone a mix of anger and desperation.

"Mum, calm down. I'm an athlete. I got this," you reply playfully, flashing her a reassuring smile as you continue your careful approach toward the boat. Your confidence does little to ease the tension among the onlookers. The plank creaks under your weight, but you maintain your balance,

"You're gonna get electrocuted! Get down!" your mum screams, her voice trembling with panic. You ignore her, your focus on the gentle sway of the boat as you step onto it. "She just wants attention," Topper mutters, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Are you kidding me?" your mum persists, her tone growing more frantic. You turn to face her, a playful grin spreading across your face as you shimmy your shoulders, teasingly.

"Oh my—no. When I tell your dad about this, y/n!" Your mum exclaims, her voice a mix of exasperation and genuine fear. "Y/n, that's not fucking funny," Rafe yells in annoyance, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He watches you with a mixture of concern and irritation, unable to shake off the worry that gnaws at him.

"Little fried y/n," Topper comments, a smirk playing on his lips as he observes the scene unfold. Kelce looks at him, puzzled by the comment, but Topper simply shrugs it off. "Top, your sister's crazy, man," Kelce remarks, shaking his head in disbelief as Topper snorts, "Tell me about it."

With a knowing smile, you reach the boat and spot the disconnected wire exactly where you expected it to be. "I see her!" you call out across the yard as you place a steady hand on the boat.

"Y/n!" your mum's voice echoes for what feels like the hundredth time, a mixture of frustration and genuine concern laced in her tone. "When I tell your dad—" Her words are abruptly cut off by your convincing scream as you pretend to slip into the boat. "Fuck—" Rafe's reaction is immediate, his instincts kicking in as he rushes forward.

After a few seconds, you grab the cord, swinging it in front of you with a smile. Kelce breaks out in laughter at your prank, the sound mingling with the collective sighs of everyone watching. Rafe's face fills with relief and annoyance as his tongue pokes agains this inner cheek. "It's disconnected!" you announce with a laugh.

"Holy shit!" Kelce smacks Rafe's shoulder, his eyes wide with amusement as he looks at you, clearly annoyed and unimpressed. "For the love of God," your mum mutters as she slips her sunglasses back on and strides away, clearly needing a moment to recover from the prank.

"She got you good, man," Kelce snickers, unable to hide his laughter at Rafe's bewildered expression. "Absolute suckers!" you crow from the boat, your laughter ringing out triumphantly. "Babe, you should see your face," you giggle, retrieving Joy's teddy bear. "Yeah, okay, yeah, I'm sorry that I care. All right, guilty," Rafe throws his hands up in mock surrender though his face expression remained annoyed.

As Rafe stands there, still trying to process what just happened, he feels a hand on his shoulder. "Congrats, dude. You're officially her bitch," Topper says with a smirk, offering his congratulations in his own unique way. Rafe rolls his eyes at the jest.

"Alright." Topper gives Rafe a hearty pat on the back. "Officially, did you know that? You're officially her bitch, alright?" Topper's laughter rings out as he teases Rafe, but Rafe isn't having any of it. With a swift motion, he slaps away Topper's hand. "Shut the fuck up, dude," he grumbles, shaking his head in annoyance before striding over to you.

"See! Just further proved my point, bro!" Topper yells amidst his laughter, clearly enjoying the reaction he's getting. Kelce joins in, chuckling at the playful banter unfolding before him.

Rafe reaches you, offering his hand despite his lingering annoyance. You giggle at the exchange, finding his frustration amusing. "Are you fucking crazy?" Rafe spits, his irritation evident, but you can't help but laugh at his reaction.

"Aww, I love you too, babe," you playfully pout, quickly kissing his lips before turning your attention back to Joy, handing her teddy bear over with a smile. Rafe stands there with a defeated look, unable to stay mad for long.

[sbcdh]

You know where the word cocaine comes from? Its Quechua. Just the name of the damn plant. I think it was 1971, maybe 72. I dunno- 

Could you start at the beginning?

Huh? Yeah, sure. Course. Uhh. Lets see…

Take your time. 

Woof. Lets see…I started in uhhh, 72. Some tiny little bottle-rocket firm sweatin for talent, head broker was this big red fatass named Ron Spade, hell of a guy, but the place got bought out by Bear Stearns in 73 when the shit really hit the fan. It was a rough time to be on a trade floor. IRS just put out the whole hypnoeconomics thing. Half the big firms were runnin’ around with their hair on fire, the other half felt invincible. Every day was a party. Party party party. 

Was that your first interaction with hypnostimulants? 

I guess. Its funny. First guy to give me quori was a cop. 

You mean an agent of the FDA? 

No no, like an old fashioned NYPD beat cop. Met him in the bathroom at Pink during a bender. Moron was so faded he thought I was his informant. Just gave me a phial. 

And you tried it?

Not right away no. To be honest I thought it was kinda faggy. Sorry. Its just what I thought at the time. The shit was sparkly, you know? What kinda drug comes in phials? Shoulda known something was up. 

Would you say hypnostimulants were popular at the time? 

At the time? Depends what you mean by popular. People didn’t know about that shit yet. You heard stories, dudes shooting up in the woods upstate, gettin found with their eyeballs exploded. It was early days, ya know? But like, that didn’t happen. That was urban legends. You know who was actually fucking around with the early stuff? Accountants. 

Accountants?

Yeah, you know, the bookkeepers. See,  I’m really just a plumber. I move money from one pipe to another pipe. But instead of wrenches and sprockets or whatever, I use charm. Its pretty easy if you ask me. Imagine if you could just tell water where it already wanted to go. You’re water’s best pal. Nah. It was those nerds in the basement, the spreadsheet guys that figured out how to expense shit so the IRS couldn’t get ya. Those were the fuckers who really dove in. 

What got you using regularly? 

Same shit as everyone else. Makes the job easier. 

How so?

You can feel the money in their pocket. Its like, I dunno how to describe it. Its like…Its like, a turd sitting in a hammock. You can feel how the money bends everything around it. You can see it, smell it. You can hear it over the phone. You can’t ignore it. Shit is nuts. You take enough, and its like you can’t see anything else. Or. No. Its like…You see that you don’t need to see anything else. Money is everything. You’re money. I’m money. Its all just rivers of money flowing through everything. 

By 1973 you were a regular user yes?

Regular makes it sound normal. But yeah I know what you mean. “Regular user.”  76 was the sweet spot. The drugs were good, but the regulators hadn’t stepped up yet. You and some buddies could set up in a club bathroom with nothing but a blindfold and a pile. You ever seen a stock floor with a headfull of that fancy government shit? 

Would you like to discuss the raid? 

No. Not really. 

I understand you were the only one in a sub-emmanation state when Hypnoregulators arrived on the scene. 

I don't want to talk about it. 

Very well then, my associate will be happy to take you to prison as per the agreement you signed. 

Alright alright, Christ. 

Please. In your own words. 

From what I understand, you pulled spade outta bed. Got a confession and everything that morning. 9 fuckin AM, and 200 IRS agents come busting in the doors. I was in the bathroom seeing shit. It's marble lined, lots gold filigree. All that jazz. Special made. Listen. I'm serious about the stock floor shit. Whatever you guys have, it's different than what we had back then. I mean, the shit was still cut with cocaine. A stock floor wasn't a stock floor, it was like…

The raid, please. 

I'm getting to it! You gotta know this shit okay? I need you to understand what you goons fuckin wrecked. It was perfect okay? A garden of Eden . Ripe fruit. Everything just works. You don't have to worry about shit. You're a hunter, a killer, the great fuckin god pan, and the floor is your field of delights. It's like being a beating heart, like being struck by lightning. You can feel the sun in your pocket, and how it's all flowing through everything. And then you fucks showed up. 

It was cold. I felt it first. Like I just threw the biggest party, and mom and dad were coming home early. But you know what I saw? You know those Chinese dragon dancers? Or, lions, or whatever they are? You know how there's two guys in the costume? I saw a dragon, a beast with eyes like the sun, teeth dripping gold, a bunch of IRS suits holding its pelt on their shoulders like you carry your baby home. 

Your statement alluded to some additional information. 

Yeah…there was something else… I dunno how to describe it. The fuckin…eyes, like the sun. Thats how you feel when you're on this shit. You're seein’ gold. I looked into the dragons eyes, and it's like, it's like I saw me. Like I was the dragon, and I was looking at me. Or…no. I was the sun. I was looking at myself. It was like, in that moment I knew something. I learned something. 

What exactly is that?

I dunno. It doesn't fit into words. But like. You aren't regulating shit. 

I'm sorry? 

Yeah. All this shit. The dragon. The field. The dancers. It's all just the sun.

[pomefioredove]

a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

[devil-in-hiding]

So thank you all for all the love on my little assistant idea! here’s a little more, it’s a little rushed but i couldn’t get this outta my head 💕

Returning back to base with four huge, expensive looking shopping bags, you storm towards John’s office. You don’t bother with knocking, you never do, and you find he’s bent over a file, hat long gone and a bottle of scotch near by.

He lifts his eyes, which light up at the sight of your bags and sits up. “Oh good, I see Sally got you sorted.”

“John Price what the actual hell? I can’t- This is much to-“

“It’s not coming out of your pay love. It’s on me.” He calms, but you shake your head, confusion and hope swirling in your chest.

“I don’t understand?” Is all you can say, and John looks away for a moment, clearing his throat before standing.

“You are aware that the base is hosting the Ball this year…” he starts, to which you let out a soft groan “don’t remind me, i’m so tired of looking for catering-“

“i was hoping you’d accompany me.”

“it’s hard enough trying to decide on something the four of you- i’m sorry what?”

“I would like for you to be my… date.” You have never, in the two years you’ve worked for the Captain John Price, seen him so flustered. His cheeks were flushed, arms crossed over his chest and not looking you directly, his gaze on the ground.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, a moment John takes as a ‘no’ and he is quickly trying to put distance between the two of you, walking back behind his desk.

“Of course, there’s no problem if you don’t want to. I know you’re probably very busy, I don’t want to-“

“I would love too.” You breathe out, heart thumping loudly in your ears as John finally makes eye contact with you, and you grin, feeling giddy now as you hug your shopping bags close.

“You don’t have to just because I’m your boss sweet-“

“No no! John I’d love to go to the Ball with you.” The sincerity in your voice has John grinning that grin that could nourish a god damn garden all on its own.

“That’s- brilliant. Perfect!” He laughs, walking around once more to stand in front of you. Before you can stop yourself, you lean up, brushing a soft kiss to his bearded jaw before pulling away, a sweet laugh echoing in his ears as you turn around.

“Goodnight John. We’ll talk in the morning.”

[iwaasfairy]

okok so so think bout older brother sukuna sticking his dick in you when you're drunk outta reaason and barely even talking. he thinks it's your fault tbh, who drinks that much liquor and not expect this? it's honestly your fault, clinging to him and looking up at him with those unfocused eyes because— idk, it's your big brother? you wouldn't expect him to be groping and kissing your skin at 3am while you weakly ask him "what're you doing, kuna nii? stop it... ):"

for hiMMMM my eyes are open thEY ARE SEEING IT BABE

tw. incest, somno, noncon, degradation, spit

Big, tattooed hands wrap around your thighs to pull them apart. You’re an absolute piece of work. Seriously. His larger body sinks into the mattress as he gets up onto his knees next to you, and you hum into an unintelligible mumble. “Mh-Kuna, sh-tp mn-” Even sleeping, you’re as bratty as you are big, pretty lips jutting out to make your displeasure known. You talk a lot, for someone who can’t lift a finger to stop him. His hands find the soft plush of your thighs to squeeze the skin tighter in his hands, when he lets out a breath.

“Stop your whinin’. You’re the one making me…” He trails off when his touch makes your back arch, pushing your ass up to show off your slutty fucking panties. Underwear is a word too nice for the scraps of string that are meant to cover you. “This is what you get for getting spit on my shirt.” Sukuna doesn’t bother trying to be quiet as he maneuvers you around him with spread legs and your ass up in the blankets— like you’re straddling a ghost with the way you wiggle around in the position.

He clicks his tongue, before rubbing all long fingers around you and cupping your heat. “This is why niisan doesn’t let you do nothin’, you fucking slut. Look at yourself right now.” His voice is low, squeezing your hot pussy in his palm. You’ll be awake anyway, once he’s done with you. You’re already hot between your thighs, bottom lips making a wet patch on the crotch.

He places one elbow next you your shoulders before getting down over you. He sort of wishes you’d learn your fucking lesson already. Remembering the way you pouted and slurred into his bicep when pulling you out of the car makes his brows furrow, the whined ‘Kuna nii~’ replaying between his ears. It isn’t the first time he’s pulled some shit. Really, you should know better. Learn a bit quicker. Any younger sister worth something would.

Instead you just resort to trusting him endlessly. No matter how often he presses you to the wall to force his tongue into your mouth. Or the way he makes you gyrate on his lap when he’s bored, glowing with embarrassment and whining for him to stop. His own fucking flesh and blood— you’re seriously sick in the head, aren’t you. He’ll show you what all that trust gets you. Your own fault, brat. If your brother’s a total pervert when you’re awake, what the hell possesses you to fall asleep in his bed all pretty and vulnerable?

He takes a few deep breaths before descending on your neck and lapping up your scent, as drunken moans make their way out of your half-parted mouth. “K-kuna nii~” His tongue and lips stick to your pulse for long enough to make an obvious mark. His hands pull the slicked up strings down the curve of your ass, only grunting in slight irritation when one side snaps. You twitch at the sting, but don’t wake. Only roll over halfway to click your tongue against your teeth in search of his warmth. “Su-k’na nii… no. Sta-hp.”

You’re drooling. He can’t help it, he laughs. “If you know it’s me, you should stop me already— shitty fucking sister.” His thumb slides into your mouth to push down on your tongue and open the way for his own tongue, dripping hot spit onto your lips as you whimper. “It’s big brother who’s gonna fuck you. You’re okay with that?” His other hand drags fingertips through your slick, pushing one finger inside into your soft, sloppy pussy. His tongue slides over your lips as he crawls over you fully, pushing his hard cock into your thigh close enough to make you mewl.

Your pussy clicks with the wetness when he pushes in with another, stretching you out further and further. His cock twitches in his pants, until he pushes that down and strokes himself, wet, drooling tip against your belly.  “You don’t wanna wake up. ‘Cus you love being mistreated like this, right bitch? Want ‘kuna niichan to make use of all you’re good for?” He takes the hand out of you to push your shirt up over your tits, and smears your wetness over your chest as he grips the softness.

His cock thumping against your pussy, he lets out a deep grunt, then squeezes his fat balls. “You’re just a little breeding bitch for me, aren’t ya.” His much larger body over you, muscles clenching as he covers you with his own limbs, he gets onto his knees just enough to let the tip push against your swollen, slick lips. His heavy cock looks much too big to fit, but looking at that sleeping, contorted little face— you’ll take it either way. “Wanna feel how your big brother loves you?”

When the tip grinds over your clit, your mouth cracks open with more moans, throwing your head back. “Oops, looks like that feels good? Feel good for big brother? Fucking cock slave.” Then he pushes the thick, drooling head in more, and your back starts to arch so your peeked nipples push against him. His hand winds around the top of your thigh, letting the head of his hot cock snap inside — and your desperate whispering turns hitched, and your eyelids flutter.

Your hot, tight little clutch around him is enough to have his shoulders flexing and his mouth pushing to yours. “Ah, fuck. That’s it.”

You’re such a sweet little thing that you even let him kiss you, as your eyes open. “Mh-mhhm- nii-dan.” Pushing in a few inches at once, he smiles into your mouth. “-K-kuna, st-oh fuuuck~ st-op.” Your arms wrap around him to dig your nails into his back, but it’s no use. He can feel your desperate clenching around him as he pushes you open, and tears spring into your eyes. “Please stop, I’m gonna- b- Kuna nii. Kuna nii. Stop it-”

But your hot, little clutch only feels better and better the deeper he pushes- until your eyes bulge and you go limp below him, giving yourself over to him. “Nuh uh. That’s a good cockslut sister. Take it all.”

[satorena]

✮⋆˙ PUSSY FAIRY ON THE WAY !?

featuring. g. suguru x fem!reader

warnings. explicit content, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, fwb!reader, phone sex, fingering, squirting, reader has a vagina and tattoos on her fingers.

rena’s note. based off the line “i touch myself just thinking about you” 🌬️

11:45pm: *2 photo attachments*

11:45pm: missin’ my pretty girl

it was almost painfully embarrassing how easily aroused two simple pictures could get you. it didn’t take much for your cotton panties beneath your oversized tee to get damp with slick, squeezing your thighs together to stimulate some sort of friction.

you stared for god knows how long at your phone screen, the bright light illuminating a mean and girthy dick you’re all too well accustomed to. its brown tip raging red and leaking pre come you’d familiarize yourself with. the bulging veins on the underside of his shaft peeked through sensitive skin, mimicking the veins on the owner’s hands and wrists.

simple details on the man, such as rings and bracelets and beauty marks and an oozing tip, had you licking the tip of your fingers before slipping them past your panties, meeting your bare pussy, flinching at the contact and chilly breeze of your bedroom.

“fuck,” you sighed, head thrown back into the pillow. you performed circles at your clit, teasing yourself with your light touches.

this was exactly how suguru had his way with you. he took his time—though he preferred using his tongue but that wasn’t exactly an option as of right now— by thumbing at your clit and watching you unravel and crumble at his touch.

you mimicked your thoughts, the attention at your bundle of nerves sending blissful shockwaves throughout your limbs. your thighs squeezed together from the pleasure, and you recalled that suguru would have forced them open and made you take it like the good girl you are.

your hole clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled with what couldn’t be provided at the moment. soft whines came out your throat while you ground your hips up, subconsciously chasing your own hand in need of more pressure.

so lost in yourself, your screen dimmed, noting it would soon shut off, before pinging once more at a newer notification.

11:49pm: left on read huh…

11:50pm: don’t tell me you’ve started without me mama?

you don’t even bother trying to reply, knowing he would ring up your line in a few. good, you could use his voice in your ears while getting off, after all— suguru had officially ruined you for anybody else.

as expected, your phone buzzed in your hand and you swiped the call eagerly, pressing it on speaker before resting it on your chest.

“suguuu,” you greet him, bottom lip stuck in between your teeth. your other hand goes to slip under your tee, and grasp at your bare chest, groping firmly at the tender mound.

“you kept me waiting,” he chuckles, though you notice it’s breathy, as if forcing it out. you hear shuffling, and he heaves out a sigh, “missed you, pretty.”

“mhmm, missed you more,” you intensify the pace on your clit, fuzzy sock-cladded toes curling from the building pleasure. “need you here, sugu,”

you mewl his name, the nickname rolling off your pink tongue and into your phone speaker. the neediness behind your tone had him groaning, cursing out a ‘fuck’ and suddenly the sound of fapping grew consistent.

“oh yeah?” he tries, tries, to come off cocky but he’s just as needy as you are. perhaps even more, as the hold on his cock tightens. “tell me more baby. what else?”

you figure it’s finally time to focus your attention on your folds, which had soaked up your cunt and sheets beneath you the minute he called. your index and middle finger graze at your lips, and you whine at the sensitivity.

“want you here,” you moan, rubbing figure eights at your your folds. you stimulate your cunt in a familiar pattern, the same way suguru always worked on you. “w-want your fingers deep in my pussy, fuckin’ me open and—hah, making a mess outta me—need it suguru!”

“shit baby,” he chuckles, though muffled, as you fail to notice he’s got the hem of his wife beater tucked in between his teeth. “want me to tell you what i’d do to you if we were together?”

“yes!” you beg, unashamed as your back arches off the surface of your bed. your limbs felt liquified and there was something about his voice that had your pussy glistening terribly.

“mm, well,” he begins, his thumb grazing over his slit as he pictured you doing a million times. “i’d start off with kisses at your thighs. y’love it whenever i bite, dont’cha? love it when i mark you as mine, hm?”

you nod your head, despite the fact he can’t see. “always sugu, feels so good!”

“and when i get sick of teasing myself, i’d push your panties to the side and kiss your pretty clit,” geto sighs, almost in a trance by his own words. they roll of his tongue so naturally, stomach clenching as he imagines the things he’d do to you if he was able to.

“kiss your pretty clit before playing with it. i know it drives you—fuck—crazy. yeah, it drives you crazy and you love to act like you hate being teased, but baby, your pussy tells me otherwise,”

he spoke so sinfully in your ears, soft voice being a major contrast to the intense words that left his mouth. it churned deep in your guts, sending butterflies with a mix of straight arousal.

“i do— fuckin’ love it—” you cut yourself off, the hand on your breast tweaking with the stiff bud, twisting and pinching at it.

“you fingering yourself yet?” he asks you, and you shake your head, humming a soft ‘uhn uhn’, he continues, upping the pace of his own jerking, “good girl—get your tatted fingers in f’me, wanna hear your pretty pussy speak to me.”

“o-okay” you comply to his order, easing the void of emptiness by sliding your middle and ring finger inside your clenching pussy.

you moan loudly at the intrusion, the stretch nothing close to suguru’s fingers, but still enough to satisfy you for the time being. you feel your soft walls clench around your digits, begging for more. at the wet squelch of your cunt, you hear geto chuckle through the phone, “there we go, my favorite language.”

“wish you were here sugu—hnng, need you here and—and takin’ care of me!” you voice out your thoughts, your fingers gradually picking up their pace and plowing in your insides.

“sugu’s being mean, isn’t he? ‘m sorry baby, for not doin’ my—shit—job,” geto apologizes, the sound of his lubricated cock being jerked resonating in the depths of your ear drums.

“match my rhythm, mama,” he instructs you to follow, and despite you being so deep in your own thoughts and moans, you focus on the faint sound of his fist chafing his dick.

and so, your fingers plunge in and out your wet core, pussy gushing slickness, just to please geto.

“that’s it—my good girl, mmh, always doin’ so perfect.”

his praises did wonders to your body, as you felt an oncoming orgasm approach. your gut heated and tightened into a familiar coil, and your thighs threatened to close in on your hands.

“sugu, baby, ‘m getting close!” you warn him, now roughly grabbing at your other boob that lacked attention.

“me too, pretty girl—me too,” he grunts, the pace of his jerking increasing greatly. he works up and down his length with two hands and purpose, breathing heavily and watching his abdomen contracting tightly.

“play with your clit,” suguru breathes out, a whine escaping his throat momentarily. you moan at the unexpected sound, and he continues, “please baby—play with your clit f’me”

he begged and fuck, you’d never felt yourself be so attracted to his voice the way you did right now.

“feels’good” you slur, drool pooling at the corner of your parted lips. you multitasked with toying at your puffy clit with scissoring your cave, the drag of your fingers and stimulation of your bundle of nerves opening the dam.

“cummin’ sugu—hnng, fuck, oh fuck!” you cry out, far too loud as you release on your hand. your juices spill and you drip down to the crack of your ass, down to the sheets, soaking up your panties and mattress.

you continue to fuck yourself as best as you could despite your body jerking at the sensitivity, thighs quaking and back arched off the bed.

“r-right behind ya princess—oh fuck y/n” you hear his voice break as he shoots his load onto himself, his pretty moans all in your ears. he sounded melodic, your name belonging on his tongue as it sends tingles all over your nerves.

after a few minutes, your high comes down, and you slowly pull your fingers out of your pussy, wincing at the contact. geto’s gone quiet, safe for the panting on the other side of the phone, most likely attempting to ground himself from his own orgasm.

you clench your thighs and jolt at the sensitivity. your skin felt clammy and sticky with your arousal, and your bedroom now smelled of your sex. you miss suguru’s scent, and how much differently your sheets would’ve smelt with him in it.

“taste yourself for me,” suguru speaks up, breathless.

you do as he says, bringing your fingers up and wrapping your plump lips around your digits. you moan softly, before giggling cutely when you hear the man groaning in desperation.

“quit makin’ me jealous,” he sighs, the words almost coming out like a whine. “nothin’ gets sweeter than your pussy, swear on everything.”

you can only think of a simple solution for his complaints. you shrug, popping your lips off your soaked hand, “pull up on me then.”

the line goes quiet for a bit, and you can practically hear the arrogant smirk on his face, which only makes your lips tug into a similar smile.

“your fine ass better be ready for me in ten.”

mind you this is a canon moment between me & him 🫦

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.