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nadvs · 1 month ago

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the act of unravelling (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

author’s note thank you to this anon!! this fic deviates from canon. timeline is s2 when rafe is at his most unhinged.

» masterlist

disclaimer there is no explicit s/xual assault scene in this story, but it is referenced and the trauma that comes with surviving it is explored. it is committed by an original character. when writing this, i pulled from personal experience, so please be mindful that if you comment, do not engage in any victim-blaming as it is triggering to me and others.

·········

In a single harrowing moment, you’ve learned that there’s truth to the expression that the enemy of your enemy can be your friend.

Rafe looks all too comfortable holding a gun. The rage coursing through you is deafening, persuading you that the person he’s pointing it at deserves to die.

And then, you utter the words rising in your throat.

“Do it.”

╰┈➤ two days earlier

Your shifts at the country club are a repetitive motion of driving over the golf course’s hills, handing the island’s wealthiest people their overpriced drinks, and accepting their money with a fake smile.

The job was always a predictable bore. Until a week ago, when you started seeing a familiar face.

The moment Rafe’s eyes landed on you and he realized that one of the Pogues he revels in berating is the new cart girl, his lips twitched into a smirk.

Every time you see him, he does the same thing. He orders a beer and says here you go, sweetheart when he tips you.

It’s always a fifty. No other club member gives you nearly this much. It’s like he loves reminding you that this type of money is pocket change to him.

Every time you serve him, you subdue your glare and take the crisp bill that sits between his fingers, wondering why even though the man is an arrogant asshole, you can’t stop staring at him.

You feel weak for not hating him all the way. You can’t help that over the years of your tense, sporadic interactions, a part of you has always wondered if he feels the same pull of attraction that you do.

You have to remind yourself of who he is. A man committed to letting everyone know how much better he thinks he is because he was lucky enough to be born into money. He’s heartless. And you can’t wait for the day that you finally rid yourself of this fixation you have for him.

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon at the end of a long shift and you’re parked by one of the paved pathways on the course, recording your last transaction in your logbook.

You hear the familiar whirring of a cart passing by. It stops. You don’t think much of it until you hear his voice.

“We’ll take two beers,” he calls from behind the steering wheel. You look up to see him. Rafe.

“I’m obviously off duty,” you reply curtly, looking between him and his friend.

“What, so you can write in your diary, but you can’t give us some drinks?” he calls.

“It’s a logbook,” you reply coldly. “It’s called having–”

You flatten your lips together, trying to control yourself.

“Having…?” he challenges. The mocking tone of his voice is what makes you snap.

“A job,” you reply. “Not everyone can live off of daddy’s money.”

Rafe huffs a laugh, a wisp of amusement flashing on his face.

“Careful, Pogue,” he says. “What’ll your boss say if he knows that’s how you’re talking to me?”

“I’m off the clock, Kook,” you say the label with the same vitriol. “I can talk however I want.”

You close your book and start up your cart before he can irritate you any more. Even though there’s something aggravatingly magnetic about him, you refuse to allow him to taunt you any longer.

·········

You meet up with your friends on the beach that evening, zoning out as the three of them chatter around you, passing a joint you brought.

You stare ahead at the soft waves under the setting sun, thinking of Rafe’s cold stare, thinking of the smirk he seems to always have etched on his face reserved especially for you, thinking of how you wish your body would catch up with your mind because how can you dislike somebody this much but also be so attracted to them?

“Who’s your plug?” JJ asks, seemingly impressed. He pulls you out of your daze as he passes you the joint. Smoke curls out of the end of it, twisting in the wind.

“That guy, Porter,” you say flatly. You take a puff, thinking back to the shaggy-haired Kook who approached you at a party on the north side of the island the other night, offering you half the price on your first buy.

He also tried to convince you to try something harder, but you told him you’re sticking to pot. You weren’t about to get hooked on coke, especially not because a drug-dealing Kook wants to take more of your money.

You continue to stare ahead, passing the joint along.

“What a trust fund kid name,” JJ laughs. “Fuckin’ Porter.”

Your friends chuckle around you, but you continue to stare ahead.

“Hard day at the office?” he says in response to your absentmindedness. You meet JJ’s gaze, shaking your head as if to dismiss your own thoughts.

“Rafe is such an asshole,” you say.

“What’d he do this time?” Pope asks. Your friends await your response, already well aware of your history with the bullshit you’ve ever had to deal with at work lately.

“He said something about ratting me out to my boss for talking back to him,” you reply. You scoff, getting mad all over again. You need to pull yourself out of this funk. “Whatever. All I do is complain about him. He’s not worth it. This is the last time you’ll ever hear me talk about him. I mean it.”

You make an effort to join in your friends’ conversations, feeling guilty that you’re so spaced out. With parents who never give you much attention at all, the guys surrounding you are your family. Your brothers. They deserve better than to hear you ramble on about Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes travel over the silhouettes sitting along the darkening shoreline when he arrives at the beach with his friends.

It’s the sound of his pick-up truck’s door shutting that gets your attention. You look over your shoulder. Then, you glance away, indifference on your face.

It pisses him off. Rafe has always craved what he can’t have. Power. Self-control. You. Every time he talks to you, you act like he’s such a bother, a sharp thorn in your side.

You get under his skin. And he’s never wanted a girl this bad. A goddamn Pogue of all people. Something about you lures him in. It makes him want to see what really lies behind the irritation that burns in your eyes every time he speaks to you.

He needs to crack your armor. And he has always loved a challenge.

As the beach populates, the division between the Kooks and the Pogues is clear, as if an invisible line is drawn in the sand. He stays on his side, you stay on yours.

When night falls, you and your friends have all smoked through the entire joint, and you’re a bit buzzed but not nearly as high as you’d like to be.

You spot Porter by the shoreline, drinking with his friends, and dust the sand off your knees when you stand up.

“I’m gonna go buy some more,” you say to your friends.

“Going into enemy territory?” JJ asks.

“It’s nothing new to me,” you laugh. “I work in enemy territory, remember?”

“You need company? Or cash?” John B asks.

“All good. My treat,” you say. “I’m loaded with tips.”

You don’t mention that a majority of the money in your pocket is from Rafe.

As you approach the boisterous group, you cross your arms and feign confidence. In reality, being around these types has always put you on edge.

Kooks give off a sense of invincibility, almost impunity, like predators at the top of the food chain, perpetually safe from harm and always on the brink of inflicting it.

You notice Rafe’s stare on you from his place in the large group and your stomach twists. Your eyes flit off of him and you wonder how it’s possible to wish someone would stay away but also so deeply crave they’d come closer.

Truthfully, within the tangled way he makes you feel, you’re kind of scared of Rafe, too. He’s reckless and unpredictable. And yet, that side of him excites you. There’s a complexity to him that has an inescapable effect on you.

“You holding?” you ask Porter once you approach him. He’s one of the few Kooks you don’t mind so much. He doesn’t have the cold air of arrogance that you’re so used to.

“It’s good shit, isn’t it?” he says with a smile. “How much you want?”

You leaf through the bills in your hand.

“Just a joint,” you say. The waves crash behind you, almost drowning your voice out. You make the exchange and push through the crowd, eager to get back to your friends.

You thought you managed to get away without any complications, but two words stop you.

“You lost?”

You turn to see Rafe, overwhelming heat rushing through you as he closes the distance between you, towering over you as the breeze brushes his hair over his forehead.

“What, ‘cause I’m on your side of the beach?” you mutter. “Grow up.”

Rafe smirks. He gets such a kick out of fucking with the Pogues. Especially you.

“Is that what you’re spending my tips on?” he asks, eyes darting down to the joint in your hand.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can tell your father I say thanks.”

Rafe’s mouth curls into a bigger smile. When he looks at you like that, like he wants to be around you, you wonder if he secretly enjoys your company.

“How long you been buying from him?” Rafe asks.

“Why?” you say. The way you glare at him makes every muscle in his body tense. He’d be an idiot to deny how attracted he is to you. “You gonna tell my boss?”

“It was a fucking joke,” he mutters with a laugh. “You Pogues all have sticks up your asses, I swear.”

You grit your teeth. He’s clearly pleased when he riles you up like this. You don’t understand how somebody could be so spiteful.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you say.

Silence settles between you, the chattering of people on either side of the beach intertwined in the air, an overlap of worlds far apart. He reminds himself that he has something important to ask you.

“Did he offer you anything else?” he says. You’ve already heard the gossip about how Rafe’s selling coke now. He must want to offer you a better price.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you reply. Rafe scoffs, his tongue jutting under his cheek as he takes you in.

“I’d never sell to you.”

You huff a flat chuckle. You’re tired of his juvenile obsession with the class divide that sits between you.

“So, I’m good enough to serve you drinks, but not good enough to buy your drugs?”

You feel a sick sense of satisfaction when his face hardens with anger. For a second, you worry that you’re just as spiteful as he is, that you’re no better than him.

Rafe scoffs. He’s seen what coke does to people. To himself. He refuses to see it happen to you. But of course you expect the worst of him. Like everyone else does.

“Did he offer you anything else or not?” Rafe repeats with a note of irritation.

“Why?” you sputter.

“I need to know if he’s trying to steal from me.”

Rafe refuses to be in competition with anyone. Other Kooks can sell weed all they want, but coke is his territory, and if he has to claim his territory, so be it. He’s heard rumblings that Porter’s expanded his offerings now. And Rafe isn’t going to let him fuck him over.

“He did,” you finally answer. “Coke. He said it’s the purest on the island.”

He only nods tersely, lips twisting in frustration, before he turns around and storms away from you. So, that’s all he wanted from you. Information.

“You’re welcome,” you half-shout. Curiosity pulls you in as your eyes follow him into the crowd. Sure enough, Rafe pushes Porter to the ground, shouting indistinctly, earning jeers from the crowd.

It’s typical. Nearly every time you see Rafe out socially, he’s yelling and fighting someone. You walk back to your friends, hoping you can shake off the feeling he left you with.

·········

The only thing getting you through your shift the next day is that tomorrow is a holiday. The night of the Fourth of July is an escape from the stresses of your life, an excuse to get wasted with your friends under the fireworks and let yourself drift off into oblivion.

After you clock out, you’re pacing through the country club’s bar when you hear your name called from the patio. You look to see Porter sitting at a table with a couple of friends, his smile wide.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he says when you approach.

“Yeah, I’m a server on the course,” you explain. You almost expect him to ignorantly ask for a drink, but have to remind yourself that he’s not like Rafe.

“How is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Come on, we won’t tell,” Porter chuckles. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Only sometimes,” you reply with a laugh. “Depends on the day. And on the person I’m dealing with.”

“Fair enough,” he says. He pulls out his phone, punching in the password. “I meant to tell you last night that you should have my number. You know, for when you need to stock up.”

You take his phone, cluing in that he’s making himself more accessible to you for the next time you need to buy from him. As you text yourself his name, one of the men at the table motions to Porter.

“Bro,” his friend says, gaze trained ahead. Porter looks past you to the bar and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Can’t escape him,” he sighs.

You follow his eyeline to spot Rafe at the bar with a friend, dark liquor sitting in the glass he’s holding.

“Not a fan?” you ask.

“Is anyone?” Porter laughs. “He’s a nutcase.”

“Don’t let him hear you,” his friend murmurs.

“Yeah, he’ll kill you,” the other guy laughs.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Porter replies.

Your eyes linger on Rafe a second longer than they need to. Your curiosity for why he’s the way he is is like a flame that won’t burn out. He has everything he could possibly want. Why is he so mean?

“Yeah,” is all you can say. You turn around again and give Porter his phone back.

“Oh, there’s a party at my beach house tomorrow night. My neighbor does this crazy fireworks thing every year,” he tells you. “I’ll text you the address.”

You nod appreciatively, glad that at least some of the rich people you deal with don’t buy into the idea that you’re beneath them.

·········

It’s nearing nine p.m. when you make it to the beach house the next night. The guys are rambling on behind you as you step inside the massive, humid house, filled with chattering people and loud music.

“Where are your car keys?” Pope asks.

“Right here,” JJ says, jingling them in front of his face. “Do I need to show you every five minutes?”

“I’ll just take them,” Pope says, grabbing them and stuffing them in his pocket. “You can’t be trusted.”

“It was one time,” JJ says. You laugh as you think of last weekend when he’d lost his car keys at a party in the Cut.

“Yeah, and we had to search the sand for, like half an hour,” you remind him.

“You know what I’m not hearing?” JJ says. “A thank you for driving all the time.”

“Remind me, who actually drove last time?” John B asks. “And who was hurling in the backseat?”

JJ scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m a man of honor,” he says. “I’m not not going to chug when I’m told to chug.” His eyes fix on something across the room. “Speaking of…”

He heads towards the keg and you and Pope share a disapproving shake of your heads. You follow your friends, grabbing a solo cup and sipping on beer.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a text from Porter: You here? Want to buy?

You’ve already smoked through the joint you bought two nights ago and quickly reply: yes.

He texts: come upstairs.

“I’ll be right back,” you quickly tell your friends before you push through the crowd.

You duck under the string tied across the bottom of staircase, a sign that warns partygoers that it’s off limits hanging in the middle. One door is open in the upstairs hallway. You see Porter sitting on a bed, rolling a joint on a book that’s sitting in his lap.

“Hey. Got a fresh one for you,” he says.

“Thanks.” You dig into your pocket. “Same price?”

“Sure.” He cocks his head. “It’ll take a while. You can come in and chill.”

You sit at his desk close to the door, talking as he packs the thin white paper.

When he stands up, instead of giving the joint to you, he darts across the room abruptly. Your brows knit in confusion when he shuts the door, the loud music reduced to muffles now.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fear twisting your heart in a vise.

He must have read things wrong.

You assume he’ll stop when you tell him no.

He doesn’t.

·········

You fall to the hard floor. You grip the edge of the bed, hardly any light spilling into the room from the hallway as you blink rapidly to gain your bearings.

A loud slam was what woke you up. You don’t remember falling asleep. You don’t even know where you are.

Two shadowy figures stand on the other side of the room. One roughly pushes the other to the floor. You stay still, peeking over the bed. Your body is trembling with pain and you don’t know why.

“Do you think I’m joking?” a man spits.

You know that voice. It’s Rafe.

“Dude, relax,“ the man on the floor says.

You might be sick. It’s Porter on the floor, whimpering like an idiot. You remember why your body is aching now.

He hurt you. He hurt you and you retreated into your mind and you fell unconscious. A cold swirl of anger and disgust and sadness twists your stomach into a knot.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking way,” Rafe shouts. “Where’s your stash?”

“In the desk,” Porter says quietly. “Just take it. I’ll stick to selling weed, okay? You have my word.”

You watch from the floor, Rafe’s broad figure leaning to pull open drawers and shove items off the desk, objects clattering on the floor in the dark. They don’t know you’re here.

Consciousness slowly grips you. Rafe confronted him about selling coke. He told him to stop. And Porter didn’t listen.

Your eyes flood with hot tears. He didn’t listen to you, either.

You just want to leave. To get out of this horrifying room. To figure out how to put yourself back together after surviving one of the worst ways a person can break another.

Loud fireworks abruptly crack in the sky, startling you, shining light in through the window. And that’s when you see it. Porter is by the other side of the bed, still on the floor, and in his raised hand, something is gleaming.

A gun.

“Rafe!” Your throat is dry, sore from the way you’d screamed.

He suddenly turns towards you, confusedly finding your face across the room. Then, his gaze snaps down at Porter. He notices the gun. And he lunges.

You stand on shaky knees as you watch Rafe land vicious punches, every blow making Porter groan.

“Gonna pull a gun when my back is turned, pussy?” Rafe bellows. “Really?”

You round the bed, staring in horror, your mind still in fragmented shambles. You’d told Porter to stop so many times and every strike of Rafe’s knuckles against his jaw gives you a jolt of satisfaction, a desire for him to suffer more.

He was never a nice guy. He’s just like all of them. A predator.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, heavily breathing as fireworks continue their pops and sizzles over the beach.

The gun is in his hand now. His heart is thrumming, his blood boiling hot. He could’ve died. If you didn’t call his name, he could’ve lost his life.

Rafe’s steady and firm, holding the weapon still, a sharp contrast to how hard you’re shaking.

“Do it,” you say. Rafe’s eyes finds yours, his lips parted, blood splattered on his face. It’s not his. Porter didn’t land any punches. Rafe beat him that badly.

“What?” Porter cries. “Are you insane?”

He’s staring up at both of you through wide eyes as the barrel of the gun remains directed at him. You imagine how terrifying you must look to him, standing over him in the dim room with his pathetic life in your hands.

“Me?” you mutter. Hatred courses through your veins when you glare at him as he lies on his side, bloodied and weak.

The power has shifted into your hands. He was the one looking down at you earlier, hurting you. And now that your body is yours again, you don’t hesitate to kick him in the stomach.

He grunts when you make contact, his body curling forward.

Rafe watches, rendered speechless. He thought he’d seen you angry before. He hasn’t. This is new. This is pure rage. This is a level of wrath he didn’t know you were capable of.

Even through the darkness, Rafe can see that your eyes are shiny with tears when you turn your head to look at him again.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” you snap, your words dripping with agony and rage. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Rafe is powerless against the angry, malevolent instinct that’s guided him all his life. He doesn’t think.

The blow of the gun cuts through the air.

Your breath catches.

And he’s just a body. Lifeless on the floor. Gone.

You look up at Rafe. Your chests are heaving, broken and shaky breaths spilling out of your mouths. The colors lighting up the night sky tint your tear-streaked face. He’s never seen agony personified. He has now.

You glance down at Porter again. His mouth is agape. His eyes are shut. Forever. Forever.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. Hot tears fall over your cheeks so quickly that you fear they’ll never stop. The adrenaline escapes you like water spinning down a drain, replaced with a bottomless dread.

Rafe realizes he’s still pointing the gun. He lowers his arm, his palm sweating against the grip. He had to do it. He had to. He didn’t know that taking a life would feel this good. He doesn’t feel a shred of regret or remorse. For once, he has real power.

But then he watches the way you sink down to the floor.

“What did we…” you whisper, words rushed. “What did we do? Rafe, what did we do?”

There’s a dead body next to you. Cold permeates your bones. You know it’s the type of chill that will never leave you.

Rafe kneels in front of you. The gun hits the floor with a heavy thump. The air smells like gunpowder, fried and smoking. He’s trying to meet your eyes, but your gaze is skittering around as you sit, crumpled and trembling.

“Hey,” he says clearly.

You’re staring at the ground, your breaths shallow.

“Hey,” he repeats louder. Finally, you look at him. “It was self-defense.”

You nod weakly, processing how within a second, you’ve tangled yourselves together into a knot that you can never unravel. Rafe pulled the trigger, but you told him to. And you’re sure you would’ve done it yourself if Rafe didn’t. You’re murderers.

Rafe’s hand is an inch away from you, almost putting it on yours, almost touching someone with tenderness instead of anger for once. You saved his life. You loathe him, but you saved his life, reacting in a split second.

“Why were you even up here?” he asks.

“Just be glad I was,” you say, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

If you weren’t so shellshocked, you’d laugh. You never expected Rafe to have manners, and you never expected that if he did, it’d be a show of gratitude for helping him kill somebody.

Nausea pools in your gut at the reminder of why you were so angry. Did Porter plan it? Did he always have his sights set on you, like a vulture circling the sky, ready to attack?

What happened earlier tonight flashes through your mind. He deserved to die. He did something unforgivable. He said things about how girls always do this, they always tease but never give it up.

You didn’t just save Rafe. You saved all the girls who were fated to cross that monster’s path. You pushed a soul to its death, but it was one not worthy of life.

Rafe stares at you as you blink rapidly, your mind clearly racing.

“He rip you off or something?” he asks, at a loss for why you’d encourage him to pull the trigger.

Of course Rafe thinks it’s about money. That’s all that matters to him.

“Yeah,” you lie, voice cracking. You can’t tell him. You can’t relive it. Especially with someone who you know is cold-blooded. Someone who might blame you for coming up to this bedroom in the first place.

Tease. Porter called you a tease while you pleaded for him to stop. You drop your head in your hands, chest stuttering with your breathy cries, remembering how he’d hurt you.

Rafe stares at you, confused, wondering how you could be so angry and vengeful and ruthless, just to regret it a second after the bullet left the chamber.

“We had to do it,” he states.

“I know,” you tell him. You wipe your cheeks with your palms, well aware that he could never understand why you’re really crying. “We’ll just tell the truth.”

He shakes his head at you.

“Tell who the truth?” Rafe mutters, his stare hard. “We’re not telling anybody.”

Your breath shakes. He wants to hide this. To try to get away with it.

“What if someone heard the gunshot?” you murmur.

“Everyone’s outside,” he says. “And those stupid fireworks are so fucking loud. Nobody could tell the difference.”

You wipe your face again, considering his words. Your phone is buzzing in your pocket. Someone’s calling you. Surely one of your friends. Why didn’t you just tell them where you were going? Why didn’t you just have one of them come upstairs with you?

Impatience quickly rises in Rafe while you stay silent.

“I almost knocked him out the other night,” he says. “In front of everyone. You think backing me up would be enough for anyone to believe I was protecting myself?”

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously. Rafe has a reputation for being violent. Porter put up a front that he was a nice guy. His friends even said right in front of you that Rafe would kill him. Who’d believe that Porter actually pointed a gun first?

Besides, if you vouched for him, who’s to say they’d trust you? They could spin it and say Rafe paid off a Pogue to lie for him.

“And then the cops would dig and find out it was over coke,” Rafe sputters. “It’d be a fucking mess. We’re not telling anybody.”

He’s right. Confessing wouldn’t do you any good, either. It could go sideways and you could never afford a good lawyer.

Nobody deserves to be punished for taking down the evil, lifeless man lying on the floor. Not you. Not even Rafe. You won’t take the risk.

You gaze into Rafe’s eyes, finding comfort in the striking blue hue for the first time, feeling a newfound sense of loyalty to him.

He gave you vengeance in a world that would never punish the man who hurt you. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you whisper. “What do we do now?”

“We get rid of the body.”

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sanguineterrain · 11 days ago

Text

falling behind | spencer reid

Summary: During a movie night with Spencer, he confesses to you that he feels like he's falling behind, having never kissed anyone. You offer to catch him up.

(based on laufey's falling behind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bff!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/tags: spencer's first kiss, s1/s2 spencer, best friend reader, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst at the end.

the divider

"I think you need another bookshelf, Doc," you say, narrowly dodging a stack of books that comes up to your hip.

You’ve let yourself in for your traditional movie night that’s become far and few ever since Spencer started at the FBi. His days off are rare, but they’re always spent with you. You hang your coat and scarf over Spencer’s designated hook for you. Spencer’s putting about in the kitchen, cups clinking.

"I've been trying to find one at a flea market," Spencer says from the kitchen.

"Even though flea markets give you the heebie jeebies?" you call back, flipping through a thick hardcover about ancient Rome. Aaaand that's a naked man. You close the book. Spencer’s the mature one out of the two of you. That’s why he’s got books about Rome and you don’t.

"I'm not crazy about bringing home furniture that was once in someone else's house, though it’s usually very cheap. Still! They could’ve had termites. And that’s a best-case scenario. You won’t believe what some people have in their houses.”

“Oh, I know. Pet dandruff. Mold spores. Your worst nightmare.”

Spencer appears with two mugs of Ovaltine. He's adorably cozy, cocooned in an oversized Caltech sweatshirt and green slacks with the giant cargo pockets he loves. They're so practical!

“There’s no need for sarcasm,” he says, mouth pursed the way it does when you’re being a smartass.

“There’s always a need,” you say cheerfully.

He's wearing the Doctor Who socks you got him three years ago for his birthday. They're worn a little thin. You've offered to buy him new ones—Spencer insists these are still good.

“So how’s life in our nation’s capital?” you ask. “Besides all the serial killers.”

"Good. I still haven't gotten used to these D.C. winters but I feel a lot less silly making hot Ovaltine when it's not sixty-five degrees outside," he says, bending to set your mug down.

Instinctively, you pull out two coasters and Spencer puts your mug on one and cradles his own. He sits on the overstuffed couch he took from his mother's house. You'd helped him take it. You’d followed him out here, actually, after his second PhD, and you live just outside of D.C. because you’re not a big-shot FBI profiler. You’d split the cost of the U-Haul from California and stayed with him the first night because Spencer can’t sleep in unfamiliar darkness.

It had been four years since you’d seen each other. You’d shared a bottle of cheap wine to celebrate his new job at the BAU. Later, Spencer cried over Diana and you held him through it.

"Turning the heat on might help," you say.

"That's simply a luxury the FBI doesn't pay me for. Anyway, thermostats increase the chances of a fire. Especially if the pipes are old."

"We should ask your friend Penelope to hack a bank so you can buy a mansion," you say.

Spencer shakes his head and brings the mug to his lips. "Please don't give her any ideas. Are we starting the movies?"

"Yes! Home Alone?”

“Don’t we always start with your favorite?” he asks, smiling.

“We do. You indulge me, Spencestar.”

You get up to fiddle with Spencer’s ancient TV and DVD player. It takes a couple of strategic smacks to get it running, but you do and you put the DVD in. It’s a tradition, your holiday movie marathons with Spencer.

You get up and unfurl the giant fluffy gray blanket that Spencer keeps neatly folded on the sofa. You sit next to him and pull the blanket over the both of you, then take your Ovaltine into your hands.

“You know, you could always invite your new friends at the FBI for movie nights,” you say. “I’d be okay with that. As long as they understand that I'm your oldest and bestest friend and therefore take precedence.”

"As if I need you telling them embarrassing stories about me,” Spencer says, looking at you flatly. “I know your motivations. It’s bad enough that Derek calls me the baby bird of the bullpen."

“Derek is the one that set you up on a date?”

“Ugh.” Spencer covers his face. “Please don’t remind me.”

It had only been a month ago, Spencer’s date with the sister of one of Derek’s friends. She’d been nice enough, according to Spencer, but you’d sensed more had happened he didn’t want to dive into. There was likely an underlying judgment that Spencer’s encountered too many times to not be sensitive to.

But Spencer always got nervous about these things too. He had a habit of psyching himself out. For a long time, the only woman he’d ever had a full conversation with was you.

The TV screen freezes. You groan and get up, putting your mug down.

“Try moving the antenna,” he says.

“Yeah. The FBI should give flat-screen TVs for Christmas bonuses.”

You play around with the antennas. When that doesn’t work, you turn off the TV. It’s not an exact science—whether the TV wants to play or not is up to forces out of your control. Spencer thinks you have the magic touch, though.

“That date was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” you ask, checking the wires behind the TV. You wiggle them around and try plugging and unplugging stuff.

“No,” Spencer says lightly, in that mild, polite tone that might work on a stranger but hasn’t worked on you since fifth grade.

“Spencer…”

“It wasn’t!” he says. “Honestly, it wasn’t even her, it was… I don’t know. I felt so silly doing it. Like I was a kid trying to do adult things.”

“You are an adult. Is it playing?”

“No. Yeah, I know I am, but I also feel so behind. Like everybody learned stuff I didn’t and now I can’t do a simple thing like go on a date with a woman.”

“You’re not behind—ouch!” The TV shocks you and you snatch your hand back, grimacing.

Spencer stands up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Where was I? Right. You’re not behind, Spence, you’re the smartest person I know. You’re the smartest person most people know.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then Spencer suddenly appears, kneeling next to you. You grin.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi. You don’t have to get shocked so we can watch a movie. I can pull it up on my laptop.”

“No, I’m gonna make this work. Here, hold this.”

You hand Spencer a wire. He obediently holds it while you fiddle with the back of the TV.

“She tried to kiss me,” Spencer says quietly.

You pause and look at him. “Who did?”

“The woman Derek set me up with.”

“Oh.” You put down the wire—you’re starting to get the feeling that this is the kind of conversation that can’t be had while you’re trying to fix a TV. “You didn’t tell me that. Did you?”

“No.” Spencer scowls. “I chickened out. I just… Derek would’ve told me to just kiss her because she was pretty and she wanted me. But I didn’t want to. And that’s so stupid, ‘cause I should’ve, right?”

“Spencer, there’s no rule for when you should and shouldn’t kiss someone as long as both parties want to kiss,” you say.

“Yeah, but I’ve never kissed anybody. I’m twenty-five and I’ve never kissed anyone. How pathetic is that?”

You frown and turn to face Spencer fully. “Hey. C’mon, where’s this coming from? You know I don’t think any less of you for never kissing or dating or any of that stuff. You do it when you wanna. And I’d tell anyone that. I’m not just telling you ‘cause you’re my best friend.”

“I know, but…” Spencer shakes his head and it hurts to see him so defeated. “I told that woman that I hadn’t kissed anyone and that’s why I didn’t kiss her. And the look she gave me was so… I-I’ve gotten that look before, but… and I could just tell she was thinking freak, freak!”

“Spencer,” you say, voice cracked like an egg, and his name is the soft yolk spilling out. “Oh, Spence. You’re not a freak. I told you that when we were fourteen and I still mean it. Nothing is wrong with you for never kissing anyone. And someone who thinks there is isn’t a person you want to be intimate with anyway.”

He sighs. “I just feel like I’m falling behind.”

You press your lips together. Then you make a decision and stand.

“Come on,” you say, offering your hand.

Spencer takes your hand and lets you pull him up. “Where’re we going?”

“To the couch,” you say, more casual than you feel.

Spencer follows you to the couch and you sit. You take a deep breath.

“Who would you want to have your first kiss with?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No one comes to mind.”

You bite your lip. “What about me?”

Spencer blinks. “I—what?”

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with all of Spencer’s attention on you. It doesn’t normally overwhelm you but considering the circumstances…

“Well, um. It would be low-pressure, right? I mean, we’ve known each other for so long.”

Spencer licks his lips. You track the movement, then look away, embarrassed.

“I guess so,” he says. “But won’t it be weird? Kissing each other?”

Yeah, probably. “No, I don’t think so. Well, a little, but it’s just so you don’t feel out of sorts when you go on a date. It’s, like, practice.” That last point feels a little weak.

“Practice,” Spencer repeats.

“Yeah.”

It’s still and silent for several painful moments, and that’s when you contemplate bolting and changing your address. But then Spencer speaks.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re definitely sure about it.”

“I am,” you say.

He nods. You take that as an invitation to scoot closer so you’re facing each other. Spencer brings one knee up so you can be within kissing distance.

“So, um.” You clear your throat. “So when you kiss someone, it’s important to find a place for your hands. They can be on their face or their waist or arms.”

Spencer nods. “Got it. Like this?”

He puts his hands on your waist. You stutter on your next breath. You hope Spencer doesn’t notice.

Look, you’re not blind, okay? Spencer’s tall and cute and smart and a sweetheart and your roommate in college once commented on how he’s got hands made to finger a woman, which you’ve never been able to forget, much as you’ve tried.

So yeah. You know your best friend’s good looking. You know he’s a catch.

Does that mean you can be absolutely emotionless while kissing him? Not so much.

But you love Spencer. You’d do anything for him.

“Yeah, good.” You drape your hands loosely around his neck, his curls tickling your fingers. “Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then you make eye contact but not too much. Don’t scare them.”

Spencer smiles with half of his mouth. “Don’t scare them. Noted.”

You roll your eyes. “Smartass. Alright, then you, um…”

“Kiss?” he asks.

You nod. “Y-yeah. Then you lean in and kiss.”

You press your lips to Spencer’s lightly. His mouth is soft but he’s stiff, which means he’s going to kiss stiffly.

“Relax, Spencestar,” you say against his mouth. “‘S okay. Part your lips a little.”

“Like this?” he asks, his mouth losing some tension.

“Exactly. Fit your lips to mine.”

Spencer’s warm, his breath tickling your mouth. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right up your throat and into Spencer.

“I read about kissing,” he says. “For research.”

That makes you smile, a short laugh slipping out. You rest your forehead on his mouth by accident.

“What?” he asks against your skin, smile clear in his voice. The sensation gives you shivers.

“Nothing. You’re sweet, Spence,” you say.

You lift your head and close your eyes. And then you kiss him.

Spencer kisses gently, which you never thought about in-depth, but experiencing it now, it makes sense that he does. He’s so gentle in everything else, from the way he opens doors to letting you have the last bite of pasta. Of course Spencer kisses the way he lives in the world: kindly.

Your hands slip to his jaw to guide him. Your kisses are short first, to warm him up. You feel Spencer’s pulse in his neck under your palm, feel his easy hold on your hips, the way he twists a loose thread on your shirt.

“You can be a little more firm. Move your hands around,” you say, and Spencer nods.

He kisses you with a little more pressure, ever the quick learner. His hands travel up your spine and down, like he’s soothing you. It makes an unexpected sob work up your throat and you quickly swallow it down.

You thread your hand through his hair, your senses completely surrounded by him. Spencer’s more confident now, pulling you into him slightly, curving your back with his palms.

And before you do something really stupid, like kiss his neck or tell him you love him, you pull back. Spencer’s eyes fly open when yours do.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

“No, no. You were good. That was good, Spencer. I just, uh… we’ve been kissing for a while, so I figured…”

“Oh.” His face turns pink. “Right, yeah.”

“Yeah.” You scratch your neck. “But that was good. It just takes practice.”

Spencer nods a lot. “Yes, of course. Like any skill.”

“Exactly.”

You drink your Ovaltine, needing to put your attention on anything but Spencer’s kiss-swollen lips. The Ovaltine is cold. You make a face.

“I’ll reheat it,” Spencer says, practically leaping from the couch. “Be right back.”

“I’ll try to get the movie started,” you say, making a beeline for the TV.

You turn it on, trying to calm your fluttering heart. This time, the movie plays with no issues. Of course when you want it to have issues so you don’t have to be curled up next to Spencer on the couch, it doesn’t. Figures.

Hesitantly, you return to the couch. Spencer comes out a few minutes later with your reheated mugs. He gives you yours and sits on the far end of the couch.

“Want the blanket?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m okay. I warmed up.”

The movie continues from where it froze. You and Spencer watch that one, then Home Alone 2, then the Muppets Christmas Carol.

And it’s fine, it’s normal. It’s normal, except you’ve just kissed your best friend. And Spencer doesn’t curl up next to you under the blanket for the rest of the night. You get this sinking feeling, wondering if catching your best friend up comes at a bigger cost than you thought.

#Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid fic #Spencer Reid kissing #Spencer Reid best friend #Spencer Reid x fem reader

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someprettyname · 6 months ago

Text

OMG OMG I'd bark for more fr and specially if it's kunigami? Woof woof this site needs more kunigami fics

Most welcome 😭❤️

"A shadow needs a light and you are his." I've thought about this more than once damn it.

plague

content warning (s): blue lock spoilers, manga spoilers, mature language, mention/use of alcohol, hard dom!kunigami, public sex (party bedroom), unprotected sex, exhibitionism, rough sex, hate sex?, fear play, slight degradation, masochism, hair pulling, dirty talk, choking, manhandling, biting, mention of blood, overstimulation, use of pet name, bit of breeding and corruption.

summary: The breakup is eating you alive, Kunigami Rensuke plagues your body and mind even when he shouldn’t, the sweet and dirty memoires you have are all you have left. You miss him, but you don't want it to take control over you anymore. Maybe hooking up with a guy will get Kunigami out of your system. You really hoped it would because you don't know what you’ll do if it didn’t.

pairing: Wildcard!Kunigami Rensuke x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

a/n: this is my first bluelock fic and i love kunigami so i hope to be adding some dirty yummy smut to this statue of a man. I've been reading to much dark romance books and seeing a dark kunigami triggered something deep within me *evil giggle* also i want to tank my love kaitlyn for beta reading/editing <3

song (s) mentioned: ‘blue’ - kali uchis || ‘house of balloons’ - the weeknd

banner credit: made it myself ;)

masterlist | requests | join my tag-list

Three months

It's been three months since you’ve heard from him, since he showed up at your front door telling you that it was over, like it was nothing; absolutely nothing. He changed. His hair, build, attitude… but it was his eyes that startled you. They would shine when they looked into yours, but the ones you stared into were dull and devoid of light. The words that came out his mouth still haunt you when you have moments alone; Plaguing your mind and soul.

You still kept in contact with your friends that were Kunigamis. They treated you with nothing but kindness and support. When Reo finally explained what had happened in his last moments with Kunigami, a dark tension dawned on you. The way your blood went cold and your hands clammy; What had he felt in that moment? You were worried about him after Isagi and Chigiri told you their concerns on what might’ve happened to Kunigami in “Wildcard”. But that didn’t excuse his behavior towards you.

Soccer was something Kunigami had always loved more than anything, until you. You understood his priorities and never overstepped yourself; Encouraging him when he felt defeated. When Bluelock entered the picture, you pushed him into it. Although he would be away from you and everyone he held most dear, this was his chance to prove to himself he could be the soccer hero he’s always wanted to be.

When he appeared on your doorstep three months ago, practically spitting in your face with the disgusting words, throwing you away, and the entire relationship, it was an utter shock. It was hard to move on, and you were trying your very best to keep everything together; However, today was the day you decided you really needed him out of your fucking system.

Dee’s voice brought you out of your head, “Are you fucking serious?” she exclaimed. The words that fell from your lips were a surprise to yourself but you needed this; You wanted this.

“Yes…” You paused and tilted your head. “I think so.” you replied.

Dee’s eyes stared into yours, still processing, making a giggle escape your lips. Standing at the hood of Dee’s car, you turned and walked towards her driveway, hearing her shuffle behind you.

You threw your hand up, your back still faced towards her, “Don’t make me fucking regret it, Dee.” you teased.

Dee scoffed, “Oh babe, you’ll thank me for it.”

Hearing Dee take out her phone to call up your friends to pregame for the party tonight, the sound bled into the background, covered by your racing thoughts. Kunigami has consumed you, in body and soul. When you touched yourself, it was his hands that trailed your body. It was his lips on your neck. His scent of cedarwood on your skin and clothes.

God fucking damn it.

All you wanted was the heartache and memories to go away. Maybe hooking up with a guy will get Kunigami out of your head. You really hoped it would because you don’t know what you’ll do if it didn’t.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure you're fine?” Chigiri asked for the ninth time tonight.

Bringing down the shot glass from your lips and letting it hit with a thump on the table, “Yes for the… how many times now?” You say with slight annoyance, using your fingers to mock count to Chigiri.

A laugh falls from his lips, “Okay, okay.” he says, bringing his hands up in defiance. Yours eyes meet his, everything that wasn't said could be said with just the look in his eyes. He hates that he knows the pain you still feel inside. Clearing your throat, turning to look to your left, you see the guy who's been staring at you all night, your eyes meeting across the bar. A buzz lingers on your skin, he was already undressing you with his gaze alone.

Chigiri’s eyes follow your gaze, seeing everything unfolding before him. You feel a nudge on your arm, but you still maintain eye contact. “You still have that condom I gave you?” he teases, making you turn and nudge him with your hip. As you both laugh at each other, Chigiri leans down and kisses the top of your head, “Have fun, okay?” he breathes into your hair. Nodding in response, he turns and leaves, assumingely to find the rest of his friends.

As you reach to grab the Bacardi to pour into your shot glass, you feel eyes on you. His eyes. No, it’s not his eyes you assured yourself. Gripping the shot glass, you bring it to your lips, swinging your head back. The burn you feel in the beginning of the night is practically gone.

A broad body stands beside you, “God, look at you.” the guy whispers into your ear. “Eye candy alright...”

The black mini dress always hugged the right places around your body. A devious smile spreads across your face, “Want a taste?” you toy.

You feel his arm wrap around your waist as he presses himself into your back. You feel him already stiff in his pants. Holding the groan that almost slips out, you turn to face him. His lips and breath lingers on top of your lips, just a hair away. Getting on your toes, you lick his cupid's bow.

You had no idea where this confidence came from, but alcohol is to thank for this boost. His hand grabs yours, trailing you behind him into the back of the house away from the crowd. Walking behind him, your head starts to spin in doubt, but fades as you enter a dark room.

The guy, you still don’t know his name, nor do you care to learn it, flips the light switch. “No,” you say as you reach quickly to turn them off again. Darkness filling the room again.

“You afraid of the dark?” you ask in a low voice. There was silence, but the muffled sound of Kali Uchis’s ‘Blue’ through the walls.

“Fuck no,” he growls in the darkness. His lips crash into yours. The kiss was desperate and fast, his fingers sinking into the back of your neck with his thumb on your check, deepening the kiss. Trailing your hand up his shirt, you grip it as you pull him with you to walk more into the darkness. Your back hits the wall with a thud, but that doesn’t stop anything. He licks the top of your lip signaling to let him in. You open up for him obediently, his tongue exploring yours.

A whimper escapes you, his mouth swallowing the sound. He nudges his knee in between your legs, making you arch into him. Tilting your head back to breathe, his lips descend to the crook of your neck. You grind yourself into his leg to add friction to the throbbing pain between your legs. His fingers tug on the strap of your dress bringing it down, leaving a wet kiss in its place.

Closing your eyes, you let your overwhelming need engulf you, but a soft light flashed underneath your lids causing you to open them. The light disappears fast as it comes, you stare into the darkness. His hand lays on top of your hip, digging into them. Grabbing his neck, you bring him back to your lips, kissing him rougher this time; showing him you want him now. The sound of groans and heavy breathing fills the room.

With your eyes closed you feel yourself turn, the side of your face on the wall. His hand clutches the back of your head, pulling the hair causing your head to fall back towards him. He grinds himself into your ass, feeling his hard cock on you. Pushing your ass back into him, his groans tickle the back of your ear. A sharp throb hits your clit, as you feel his other hand pull your black dress up.

The cool air hits your hot skin. He brings your hands to lay on the wall, as you dig your nails into the surface as he continues to dry hump you through his pants. With the added friction to your clit, you could feel your orgasm creeping, but then it was gone.

The guy pulls away, leaving you standing alone in the darkness. All you could hear was shuffling and heavy breathing. Since you were facing the wall, you couldn't see anything. A faint light fills the room and disappears with the loud shut of the door. The sound makes you flinch and turn, but you are only met with blackness staring back at you.

“H- hello?” you stammer.

Silence. Your breathing quickens, making your body tense with uneasiness.

“Pussy…” you scoff, “Won’t finish what you started?”

You fix the strap on your shoulder and tug your dress back down, and wait. Hoping to hear a snarky remark. Anything.

Once again, silence. You only hear the song ‘House of Balloons’ through the walls. You push yourself off the wall to walk towards the door, a hand hits the center of your chest shoving you back. Fear claws your skin, making your blood run cold.

Your chest rises and falls with each breath you take. Is this guy fucking around with you now? But you weren't going to back down; two can play at that game.

“What do you want from me?” you question the person, trying to hide the shake in your voice. He didn't move, nor did he say anything. You've grown tired of always wondering what every outcome will be, this was the moment where you’d just see where this goes, even if it’s scary.

“What do you want?” You yell. A lump forms in your throat making it hard to swallow. Nothing. You didn't want to ask the question that came into your head, but you needed to.

“Are.. are you going to hurt me?” You ask.

“I dont know.”

What the fuck? He doesn't know?

Swallowing hard, “Do you want to?” you question.

“A little.”

His voice was low and breathy, masking it under the quietness in the room.

“Why?” you ask, heart thumping in your ears.

“Because I'm messed up,” he answers. You hold your breath, staying as silent as you can, hoping he wouldn’t continue.

“I can't feel anything but fear anymore,” he whispers, “It consumes me.” Your hands began to shake beside you.

You hear him take a step. “I don't know what I'll do.” he said.

You couldn't see where he was in the darkness but you could feel his heavy stare on you. A snarl rips through the air, his lip smashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, like he was starving. He manhandles you, his rough, large hand gripping your hip while the other latches into your hair. He yanks it, making you yelp into his mouth, giving him the chance to slip his tongue in. He tastes different than before.

No.

Maybe the fear in you was making you hyper aware.

You move your hands into his hair, feeling an undercut.

Was that there before?

You squeeze his locks in between your fingers. He groans, his hold in your hair tightening even more, the sting on your scalp becoming stronger. However, the assault on your mouth soothes it. You catch a small hint of a scent.

Wha- no I’m just imagining it, you think.

You didn't want to feel or think anything. Maybe he will hurt you, but you didn't care. Hell, just him scaring you is making you soak through your panties.

God, you were sick in the head. Feeling his hand slip under your dress and lightly press a finger against your center.

“Already soaked.” he taunts. “…didn't take much.” you growl at his comment.

A chuckle bubbles up from him, “I wanted to see something,” he says. “And I was right.”

You freeze, knowing exactly what he meant. You push him off of you, making him stumble back. You swing your hand in front of you to hit him, but he grabbed your wrist before you could. His heavy breathing matches yours, and he places your hand on his chest.

A cold metal chain hit on your fingers. Trying to get your breathing under control, you hold the chain trailing your fingers down, following its coolness before something stops you when it hits the end. A pendant. Tracing your forefinger over the pendant, feeling it, but you freeze in place.

A snake pendant. You know that fucking pendent. You bought it yourself.

You throw your palms into his chest, shoving him as hard as you can, but he doesn't even budge. He grabs the sides of your arms, securing them beside you. “Let me go, '' you demand.

“Why?” he says roughly. It's the voice you almost thought you’d never hear again.

“Fuck you,” you bark. “Let me go.”

“Fuck you?” he growls. “I'll do more than that.”

You were fuming, anger boils at the bottom of your stomach. Who the fuck does he think he is? He was the one that left everything behind.

“You won’t do anything,” you hiss, pushing your body against his to try to loosen his grip around you. But it did only the opposite. He brings your body into his, holding you in a tight embrace, locking your arms under his strong ones.

You can feel him, smell him. The scent of cedarwood fills your nose. He’s here. This smell should've disgusted you, but it only made your heart melt. You hold in your breath trying to not devour his smell.

“Let me go or I’ll fucking bite you.” you snap.

“I was counting on it,” He whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending chills down your spine.

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You sink your teeth into his shoulder, feeling the soft cotton and flesh underneath. A light chuckle comes from him, making you bite harder. Shut the fuck up, motherfucker. Increasing the pressure each second, but he doesn’t move. This has to be hurting him. You can hear his breaths becoming raspy and deep.

“Har- harder,” he stutters. His hold on you gets tighter. You freeze. You wanted to hurt him, but biting any harder would break his skin. Kunigami Rensuke, please don-

“Harder!” he barks, making you flinch at the sudden outburst, but you do as he says.

You sink your teeth harder into him, feeling his soft flesh break under the pressure, tasting a hint of copper on your tongue.

Kunigami hisses as he takes a short breath. You feel tears at the brim of your eyes. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor- You slowly loosen your jaw around him, setting your forehead against the front of his shoulder.

There’s only the sound of your breaths in the room, the hum of the party, the world on the outside.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sense of guilt. The world stops, just for a second.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I caused.” he whispers as you hear his heart racing, “The trouble.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“But most of all… I’m sorry for breaking your heart.”

Everything comes crashing down, breaking into a million pieces. Yes, he did hurt you, but you know you would be there for him in a heartbeat. Your heart will always beat for Kungami Rensuke. We want what we want. You know it's bad to want him after everything he’s done, but you want to let him know that you’re there for him at this moment; right now you want him.

His hold on you had long loosened, softening into a warm embrace. You bring your hand down to his, grabbing and placing it around your neck, your hand layered on his.

“Ren,” you say softly, “I want you.”

You feel him tense and take in a sharp breath. You tighten your hand around his, making the hold firm.

“I want… you.” you say, making sure he understands what you are trying to really say. Never knowing what really made him change, you know it is still Kunigami. This Kunigami is scared and broken, but fixing him isn’t on your mind; you want to help him.

His mouth slams onto yours again, but this time you are the one hungry, starving. Your teeth clang against each other, taking whatever you both can take. Kunigami sucks on your bottom lip giving it a small bite, making your clit throb under you. A whimper comes from you remembering how good it feels to have him all over. His hold on your neck tightens as he pushes you back to the wall, his hand on your neck holding you in place.

Standing in front of each other, you wait for his next move. The cool air covers your breasts as you hear a loud rip of fabric, your dress. He ripped the front of your dress with one hand. You didn't even bother wearing a bra with your outfit tonight. Your nipples harden under the cool of the air, being in the dark make your senses even more heightened. Kunigami’s mouth lowers to your chest, sucking and biting your left breast. Arching into him, you try to grind on something, anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your legs.

Kunigami’s mouth switches to the other breast, sucking, but gives a small bite right next to your nipple. You quiver under him, as he continues teasing your nipple between his teeth and tongue. You can’t take it anymore, you want him inside you.

“Ren.. please.” you beg. The nickname you know he loves so much. You slide your palms under his shirt, feeling his toned abs and pecs.

His mouth on you doesn’t stop but moves up your neck, leaving wet sloppy kisses in its trail. Kunigami’s grip on your neck moves to your chin. The weight of his eyes on you feel so heavy, you don’t know if you are looking into them, but you can fucking feel them.

“Please what?” he says amusingly.

Trying to swallow the dryness in your mouth, “Please fuck me.” You whimper, “I need you inside me.”

“I love hearing when you beg for it,” he says with a smile on his face.

He moves away from you, tearing your dress even more, feeling the ripped fabric rip down the middle. It was in shreds while it hung beside your body. All you have is your black lace thong. Shame is what you should be feeling, but there was none.

Kunigami returns to you, and roughly pushes you in the chest as he settles himself between your legs. He still hadn’t taken his hard cock out but you can feel the giant bulge against your slick pussy. He brings his hand to your pussy, just holding you there. You hold your breath.

“This belongs to me,” Kunigami says, “You are mine.” You whimper at his comment.

He presses his finger into you through your thong, getting a gasp from you. A low grunt comes from him, “Who do you belong to?” Kunigami presses, “Say it.”

You freeze, but he pushes another finger into you. Your legs shake so hard, leaving to collapse on him any second. “Say it.” He says again.

“I-I’m” you hesitate. A third finger pushes into you, stretching you wide even through your thong. “To you…” you declare, “I belong to you.”

“That's my baby doll.”

He takes his fingers out of you and grabs the hem of the tong and rips it off. Shivers spread all across your skin at the rough handling. You hear the jingle of his belt, your pussy clenches at the sound. Something soft hits the ground before he has his hands on you again. Kunigami presses you on the wall, placing his hand under your knee, opening you up for him.

Kunigami rams his cock into you without any resistance, making you gasp at the sudden stretch. You’ve never felt so full, and he is so deep inside you. Not a second to waste, Kunigami pounds into you, the slap of his balls hitting your pelvic. Each hard stroke, you can feel every ridge of his cock, the vein on it sliding against your clit.

You clench around him, he groans loud. “You like it when I treat you like a sleeve?” He says, not sounding at all out of breath.

He gets his response by you clenching on him again. He continues his pounding, setting a fast rhythm. The room fills with skin smacking and the obscene sound your pussy makes as you suck him in.

You need to hold onto something, so you hold onto his shoulders, feeling his soft hot skin on your hands. Keeping the pace, Kunigami places his other hand under your other knee, hoisting you up on the wall; Only leaving you to hold onto him. Leaving you at his mercy. Heat fills your center, your orgasm coming close.

You wrap your arms around his neck and crash your mouth on his, kissing him passionately and eagerly. You suck on his tongue, savoring his taste.

“Rensuke,” You moan, “I-I’m.” You lay your forehead on his shoulder, but hear him hiss. The bite. You lift your head and place your mouth over the bite, licking it, the copper taste on your tongue. Kunigami grunts as you continue to lick the wound you made.

His thrusts begin to falter just a bit, signaling he’s almost there too. You place your entire mouth on the bite, and suck on it.

“Oh,” Kunigami says, “You’re fucking dirty.” Your moan is muffled as you suck harder on his shoulder.

“I'm going to fill your pussy with my cum.” he growls, “I’m claiming what's mine.”

You groan on him and your pussy clenches at the comment. Kunigami flattens his palm against your pelvis and applies firm pressure. Your spine nearly breaks at the sensation, feeling him so much more intensely.

“Come on, baby doll.” Kunigami grunts, “Come on me.”

With those words, a flash of white hits behind your eyes. A shock runs through you, making you groan so loud and clear for him. Your body convulses against him but Kunigami still keeps ramming his cock into you. You just hold on for the ride as you come down. His name is pouring from your lips. The overstimulation brings tears to your eyes. You shut your eyes tight and squeeze yourself around his cock.

Kungami’s thrusts shudder, “Fu-FUCK,” he grunts loud into your ear as he loads you with white hot liquid. He fills you, doing exactly what he told you. His cock and cum all in you, claiming you as his. He gives you a couple more slow and hard pumps before he holds himself inside you. His cock still pulsing inside as you both try to catch your breaths.

Kunigami slowly takes himself out with a loud pop at the end of his cock, leaving you to mewl at the sudden emptiness. You feel so empty and weak but so euphoric. He gently places you back on your feet; However, still holding you up.

He presses his forehead against yours. Time stands motionless. Not a word was uttered, but there was a lot being said. Kunigami softly drops his hands, leaving you alone in the darkness. You feel him leave you and hear his feet as he walks. Away from you. Once again, you are alone in the dark without him.

A light switch being flicked on sounds in the room. A sudden burst of light makes you flinch, making you squint your eyes and place a hand over your face. A light chuckle fills the room as you pull down your hand.

You know you looked like an absolute mess, completely fucked out and naked; besides the, now ripped and shredded, black dress around you.

“Seriously?” You say, flicking your hand at him, middle finger in the air. A loud laugh bursts from his mouth, the sound brings butterflies to your stomach. You can’t help but laugh as well. You both laugh lost in the moment, but as it dies, reality settles in.

“This doesn't fix anything.” you say softly, looking into his auburn eyes.

Kunigami stares back into you, “It’s a start.” he says.

Breaking the stare, he walks over to his shirt and hoodie on the floor. Kunigami slips into his shirt, but you can’t help but stare at his body. He already settled himself under his boxers but his v-line peeks beneath the undone jeans. The feel of his seed seeps down your inner thighs.

Something hit your face making you gasp. His black hoodie falls into your arms. A tiny smile breaks on your face but you quickly drop it. You slip on the hoodie and Kunigami’s scent swallows you whole.

No one really knows what happened to Kunigami in “Wildcard", but he’s still him. Although he’s changed, you don’t want to change nor fix him. You want to understand where he is. He is sure guilty for all the sins he’s done. Maybe he has always had this dark side to him and it's just coming up to the surface. Kunigami is afraid, but he doesn’t need to be.

A shadow needs a light and you are his.

tag-list: @kentosovertime @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @bebechinas99 @katgalle @akisbrew

#👉🏻👈🏻#I can yap all about why this is so hot sksksksk (hiding this in the tags because dawg 😔✊🏻 I'm whipped. Feel free to ignore my barking)#The pendant scene? I was screaming like oooofffff #Something so hot any recognising him through the pendant 🤤 Specially it being a snake? Hot. Very hot.#I expected it to be something else but snake was pleasantly surprising and fit really well?! (I'm telling you it made me sick in the head.#I read this before sleeping and woke up and thinking about some of these scenes. Giggling kicking my feet blushing rn)#'a hand hits the center of your chest shoving you back' *bites lips* imagining kunigami doing that is doing things to me #I mean if it happened to me irl i would be TERRIFIED but since I'm only reading 😋 I'm allowed to thirst 🥰#'Because I'm messed up'#'I can't feel anything but fear anymore' 'It consumes me.'#Sir. On my knees. 🧎🏻‍♀️ Please do whatever you want. 🧎🏻‍♀️#You know 😂 I started reading this and it was so well written (' ah another professionally written fic 😈 thanks for the meal 🤤') i thought #It'd have 1k-2k notes atleast. I was so disappointed. This deserves sm more like ?!?!?#Im so glad you added the apology. I really think you portrayed his character VERY WELL. Many people don't understand post wild card kunigam #All too well. But this one did. That added to the reading experience.#(let's not get started on cloth ripping. What is NOT hot about this fic?)#ALSO. ME WHEN OTHER PEOPLE USE THE NICKNAME 'REN' 🥹🥹🥹#The name just hits home hehe #Dawg i yapped too much #I'm sorry I'm just very starved of kunigami content 🙏🏻#By any means. S2 this October WOOP WOOP #kunigami rensuke

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xetlynn · 1 month ago

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I crave s2 claggor x reader cuddling please 🙏🙏🙏 I just need to lay in a warm bed with that man for as long as possible

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Dramatic Needs

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: in which [name] is in desperate demand for attention. (super short)

I tiredly slam through the door of my own home. I didn’t even know the time due to how invested I was in the work I did with my friends. Powder pushed us to keep going even though we were all on the brink of falling asleep.

I shut the door behind me, leaning on it for a moment with my eyes closed, kicking my shoes off. I look around my apartment for my boyfriend of four years. My feet shuffled underneath me, somehow keeping me going toward my shared room. I opened the cracked door, pushing in and plopping right down on the bed behind Claggor who was seemingly doing something since he wasn’t paying attention to me.

I let out a large huff of air from my lungs, clinging onto the sheets. He doesn’t even flinch. I pout, sighing once again. I see his head go up for a moment only to go back down to whatever he was doing. I scrunch my nose. Getting upset.

“Sigh!!” I flip over dramatically, flinging myself up against my boyfriend's back.

“Sigh! I’m dying!” I cry out, closing my eyes and sticking my tongue. Pretending to be dead.

Silence.

“The only cure… is! Attention!” I smack his back with the palm of my hand. “If I don’t get it in t-minus five seconds it will be the end for me!” I exclaim. More than five seconds pass and I sit up angrily.

“What is more important than giving your obviously distressed girlfriend attention?” I ask, shoving his shoulder but it doesn’t even move him. “[Name], please.” He laughs.

“I’m trying to finish this list.” He pushes me with his hand on my face. I fall back onto the bed, getting right back up and leaning over his shoulder. “Are you almost done?” I quietly question. He scoffs out a laugh, shimmying his shoulder to get me off but instead I grab onto both and then wrap my legs around his waist from behind.

“I’m just trying to make sure I’m remembering everything.” He tells me, grabbing onto my calf with his free hand, massaging it gently. “It looks good enough to me.” I kiss his back.

“I’m sure it does.” He shakes his head at my behavior. He reads over his note and writes one last thing before putting it on his nightstand.

My legs squeeze around him and he stands up. My arms quickly went around his neck. “Ack!” He grabs my wrists, loosening them. “Where are we going?” I sluggishly posed, resting my head on the nape of his neck.

“To get some water before bed since you always need it in the middle of the night.” He answers, his hands go to my thighs to make sure I stay up. “Awe, you know me so well.” I raspily coo.

Claggor gets the big bottle of water and heads back to our room. He sits on the bed letting me uncurl myself from him and climb into my side of the bed.

He reaches over me, putting the bottle on my nightstand. I watch his facial expressions as he makes sure to set it on a coaster. His tongue sticking out since he was stretching out his body then goes back to his side.

“Alright, you have my undivided attention now, honey.” He places the blankets over us. “Good. I deserve it.” I yawn, stretching my legs. He snickers. “I want to cuddle.” I tell him, throwing my body over his, his arms instantly embracing me. “Alright.” He whispers.

“Want to tell me about your day?” He asks, his hand rubbing up and down my back. “Mm, boring. I want to listen to you talk.” I tiredly say, closing my eyes. My arms were around his neck as my right leg hooked over his torso and my left leg laid on the bed.

“Well, I had to stop Mylo from embarrassing himself in front of Gert for the hundredth time.” He chuckles and I hum out, amused.

“Then I just helped out Silco and Vander for the rest of the day, just waiting for my lovely girlfriend to come home.” He kisses my head a few times. “You’re obsessed with me.” I whisper.

“I guess so.” He squeezes me and I let out a small huff.

“I’m falling asleep.” I mumbled right as I was dozing off.

“Love you too, hun.” I feel his body shake from him laughing at me but I was already in dreamland to say anything back.

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starkeysprincess · 1 month ago

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bestie I was having this discussion with myself earlier and wanna know what you think😌

I was rewatching season 1 and was drooling over frat daddy as always and I thought “I know he gives lethal back shots” and then I remembered stepbro!rafe and was like waitttt. I wonder what his favorite positions are each era/season especially as your stepbrother? so I thought some more and came up with:

S1, everyone’s fave frat daddy: as stated above, face down ass up, loves to yank you back by your hair or arms; missionary cause he loves to see your pretty face, especially with your legs over his shoulders, mating press, 69 cause he’s nasty and selfish.

S2, psycho, brutal, mean rafe: snake, wall, seashell (legs behind head, maybe even tied up) tied up spread eagle, reverse cowgirl. anything he knows will easily push you to your limit and fast given how rough he is.

S3, man of the house rafe: reverse cowgirl, full nelson, prone bone, 69. he owns you, he’s the boss, and he makes sure you know it.

S4, soft daddy dom rafe: missionary, cowgirl, he loves to watch your pretty face contort in pleasure and move you up and down his length. spooning if he’s being soft, and if he’s feeling a little rougher, mating press or snake if he wants to wreck you but let you rest.

i was waiting for someone to say this, i agree w all of them, so let's talk about it !!!

HELP, i kinda went in on this + rambled for far too long sorry 😭

S1 stepbro!rafe : enjoys seeing you face down, ass up. it gives him the perfect view of your ass bouncing back against him each time his hips snap into yours, he yanks you back by your hair for leverage, especially when you're struggling to stay quiet when you bury your face in his sheets cause he wants to hear every whine and moan that slips from your lips. i see him using missionary/mating press as a way to prove that he loves looking at your pretty face when you complain that he seems ashamed to look at your face when he only ever fucks you face down. 69...this man loves eating your pussy, but let's be real here...he's impatient and selfish, the only way you're gonna get off from him eating you out is if you're sucking on his cock at the same time

S2 stepbro!rafe : i think the top positions he'd use are snake and seashell. reverse cowgirl would be more of a rare position, just here and there. he's gonna be more brutal and mean, which is why i think snake and seashell are the top two perfect positions he'd use. the snake position allows him to fuck you deeper, your leg thrown over his while you're on your side, and it allows him to reach under the back of your neck to grab your throat, holding your head upright as he relentlessly pounds into you. seashell...please, this one is so hot to me icl, but this position genuinely pushes you past your limits, and he knows it. he'd have your legs pushed back, and behind your head, i could see him holding onto your ankles to keep you from moving your legs down. he'd have you a crying, trembling mess in this position from his cock pounding into you harshly and his pubic bone repeatedly grinding against your puffy clit.

S3 stepbro!rafe : full nelson + prone bone are the top two positions for this version of stepbro!rafe. full nelson allows him to lay back with you on top of him on your back, your knees are bent and pulled back to your chest while his arms are hooked under your thighs, keeping them spread open. his feet are planted on the bed, thrusting up into you + allowing him to snake his hand down to slap your clit when you're whining that it's too much. prone bone, he's on top of you, his chest flush your back and his arm hooked around and under your throat, putting you in a headlock.

S4 stepbro!rafe : missionary + cowgirl cause he loves watching your face contort in pleasure, and with cowgirl, he just loves to see you bouncing on his cock, and he could easily squeeze and knead your tits. both positions make it easy for him to suck your nipples, leaving kisses all over your tits. when he's feeling soft, spooning is definitely his go-to cause he can whisper praises in your ear and fuck you slow and steady. if he's fucking you in missionary and you want him to be rougher, he's yanking your ankles, pushing your legs till your knees are to your chest.

#𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒍 ✶ ࣪˖࿐#divider by starkeysprincess #꒰ — anon ♡︎ ꒱#stepbro!rafe #rafe prompt ;༊#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron drabble

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nemesyaaa · 3 months ago

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S2!rafe cameron x kook!drug dealer! reader

summary ; so....reader's snorting a line of coke on rafe's dick, and rafe taking pill of ecstasy on reader's pussy...just two losers getting high together (2k3 words.)

warnings : mentions and using of drugs. smut (without real plot.). oral (f. receiving). minors dni.

"so why did you call me? need me for somethin’?"

“ oh please, you’re the one that needs something, when have i needed you for anything?“ after all, you were the dealer, and it was your client so you were right. “ and if you didn’t want to hear from me, you probably shouldn’t have given me your number?”

“ so what, you're just bored ? ”

“ i have something for you. ”

you shook your head, sitting comfortably on the edge of your bed. with one hand, you waved a bag with colorful tablets inside in front of him with a smile falling on your lips.

rafe's eyes lit up, as if suddenly your call was worth it.

“ it’s kinda sad that your face only lights up like that when you’re about to take drugs. ” you rolled your gaze, realizing that you now had his full attention. "you want it? of course, you do. we all know rafe cameron would do anything to get high."

“ and you like that. ” he shutted. “ when your ass is spoiled by my money.”

he came closer to take the bag but you moved your hand away, being much faster than him. he gave you one of his confused looks, his jaw clenching, all frustrated by your move. “don’t play with me like that. just give it to me.”

“ mmh, let me think ? no.” you ordered. “ you want it ? earn it. no kook privilege here.”

rafe started laughing, a nasally laughter that loudly echoed in the room, as his tongue hollowed the side of his inner left cheek with a smirk. “ i don’t beg, quit being a bitch, i don’t beg to have to ‘earn’ this shit. ”

you looked at him warily, knowing full well that he would. “ i think you’re gonna start listening, because you’d do anything to get what you want. if not, it doesn’t really matter to me, i have plenty of clients from figure eight who will pay me twice the amount you do. i just have to call them right now, just give me a sec... ”

his need for drugs was kinda sad,and you felt slightly guilty for using it against him. but as a businesswoman,you easily learned to take advantage of others' vulnerabilities, to use their weaknesses. you had been raised like that, there was nothing you could do about it. and it wasn't like rafe cameron was a nice guy. it was even he who encouraged all this violence within the island.

he finally knelt down, his icy glossy-teared gaze meeting yours, his lower lips trembling and begging you to shove the damn pill in his mouth. he could almost drool on the floor because he was so desperate for this shit.

“it’s immediately less fun when you’re the one begging.” you commented, noticing his blue eyes shine because of the impatience you were putting him through.

“ i did what you asked me to. so no more playing bef…”

“ before what? what could you possibly do? kill me? you gonna try to drown me, or maybe strangle me.. people talk y’know. look, i don’t have time for your bullshit, I’m in charge right now, this little power struggle isn’t going to get you anywhere. i’m not one of your little friends and i’m not scared of you. i don’t need your money but you need drugs, so who do you think is going to win here? get it together or get out. ”

rafe cameron hated this feeling, the way you making him feel shitty, the way you felt so superior to him with your worlds. it was — too much, too humiliating for him.

he was seething, a mixture of rage and sadness, but above all need and weakness. he needed this drug, as much as he needed you to give it to him now. you were terribly making the blood boil in his bulging veins. his body was tense, and inside his mouth, it was foaming. you could see he could die from this. he would have liked to be able to use violence on you, but he was incapable of doing so. you held him helpless.

"you’ve never been in this position before, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it."

you brushed aside the strands of his bangs. “just look at that face, you are pretty, i’ll admit it” you traced his lips with your thumb, brushing it softly. with a mocking tone, you said. “ i don’t get how anyone could be intimidated by you, you’re such a baby. or maybe you’re just like this with me. ”

“ don’t call me that. ”

“then don’t give me a reason too. you’re not better than anyone. now relax, let’s just have fun." and you placed a colored pill against your tongue before pulling your lips over his, slowly sliding and driving the drug into his mouth.

you pressed your tongue against his in a mixture of dripping drool, pushing the colored pill against both of your mouths as they sought each other, sharing each other's taste. you claimed him, as you slobbering directly in his tongue, sucking the pill that had passed from one mouth to the other, from his saliva to yours, slipping in your lips and outside his, before returning to him. “ open up, rafe.” and you released the drug down his throat.

you leaned back, a trickle of saliva stretching from his tongue to your parted and swollen lips. you were breathing heavily as if he had stolen your breath during the kiss.

“ we're not done yet. " you replied in his ear, giving his earlobe a lick.

you sat on the edge of the bed again, removing your skirt and panties before spreading your thighs to let him view your perfect and sweet pussy. you placed a new pill on your tongue, caged around your two fingers before a load of drool caused the drug to slide just between your cunt.

“oops, so clumsy.” you scoffed. " you wanna get that or should i ?"

he moved closer, settling between your thighs but you grabbed his face, gently squishing his cheeks like a little boy. “i know with an ego as big as yours it’s hard to say thank you. you should try using your manners once in a while ”

“ stop trying to mess with me, just give me the damn pill.”

“ mmh…asking like that ? surely not. ”

you wedged the drug between the slits of your wet cunt lips. you could feel rafe’s burning gaze on your thighs, but also that this whole situation was turning him on deeply. drugs as much as sex.

he needed that taste again. he was addicted to it. “come on, get your shit.”

and you didn’t need to say it twice, before his mouth was rushed against your pussy, claiming it as his tongue prodding your lips to find the aphrodisiac candy. you moaned at the feeling of him wrecking your dripping cunt, lapping in it through the pill of drugs. you clenched around him, as he slurped into your soppy folds. he slipped it into his mouth, before giving your pussy a strong and heavy lick, while he gripped your left thigh. his nose was big enough to lolling your clit, getting him so ticklish, to gently caressing your skin. the wet tip brushing it. your hips moving at his messy pace. the way he sucked you was just — so good.

you were completely on cloud, the vision of his dirty face buried between your legs, his sweaty bangs ghosting his forehead, his teeths gripping into your cunt, as his tongue circling around your clit, wetness smeared sloppily through his jawline making you even more wet, and getting him hyped by your little and pretty moans that fell into your lips. the slurpy noises of his mouth devouring you in sync with your desperate voice, tongue smacking your bud. you let your hands hold him in a tight hold in his hair, as you lost yourself against him.

your legs were caged above his broad shoulders, while your hips slapped his cheeks harshly. you were sensitive, gurgling and trembling under the weight of his warm tongue as it touched your sensitive spot to the deep, slurping every single drop of juice dripping in and out of your sweet needy cunt. he lapped every corner as a dog, wrapping and curling his breathy lips around your pulsating bud, groaned everytime he feels it tense around him. and jesus — he loved your damn taste.

his breath was warm, fanning over your spreaded slit which was soaked directly on his tongue. his hold was tightened, literally digging into your flesh, as his mouth filled you so well. she looked even bigger in you, getting her way further in your insides. he was so starved, sucking and sucking as your taste was making him feel even more high than drugs. you could literally see stars, and draw them. your vision was blurred as you reached heaven.

his tongue was heavy and slobbery against your dripping pussy, mixed between his own saliva and your own wetness, which made his entire jaw shiny with the mixture. and with that, the ecstacy effect began to build, making the pleasure even stronger and hotter.

the way your body arched as he eaten your pussy like he hadn’t touched anything, licked anything in months.

you had re-slipped a pill to give him even more of an appetite, feeding him like a starving man. you could feel his short cutted grunts against your pussy, as your hips rubbed his face.

your head was spinning, and your stomach was spiraling. it felt so good, but you were so lost. the drugs, the sex, rafe, everything was wonderfully good. why go to heaven when you have everything here?

rafe had never felt so good, he loved cocaine, he cherished this drug that he had broken and which he could no longer live without. but honestly, he liked drugs in general, anything that would make him high and unstable. he needed this to survive.

he sometimes dreamed of being clean, but it was impossible. all this shit was too much — too important for him. when you came in his mouth, releasing all your heavenly juices on his tongue, you blocked his breath by pulling him harder against your soaked and juicy cunt, forcing his throat to gasp, and swallowing everything that came to his cavity.

“ i want to try something with you.” you said in a lower tone, as you reach his pants, his hard and thick dick stretching the fabric.

he followed your gaze to his boner, not aware of what you were talking about, but the way your eyes were fully gawking at it, getting him even more excited, especially with the effect of drugs inside his mind.

“ i want to get high on your cock. doing a line on it…will you let me ? ”

“ you're sick.”

“ well duh, i hang out with you, don’t i?. ”

“ give me that coke, gonna get the line for ya. ” he offered as you handed him the drug.

he couldn't help but sniff the smell of the coke, as his nose was plunged into the white powder, making him even harder.

you can see the volume of his size growing against your eyes. “ can't you stop it, actually ? ”

“ don't be funny. ”

you took down his pants and his boxers. his cock was tense and big, fully erect right in front of your face. he placed the drug in a straight line on his flesh, while you salivated, watching the powder disperse over him.

“ stay still, rafe. ” you gently shouted.

“ do you really think i can control it ? hurry the fuck up. ”

“ don't stress me out. it's my first time doing this. ” you replied as you lowered your face above his stiffened cock, feeling the tense of his body through the hard rock. his curvy tip flopping some precum drop in the air, as your nose pointed toward the drugs.

it was the first time you experimented something like that, and you felt giddy about it. you blocked one of your nostrils before snorting the entire line at once,while rafe held your head during the whole process. his hand gripping tighter in your hair when the coke reached your nose. and you giggled the next second and doing it again just to feel the sensation another time. his dick twitched against your cheeks, tapping your skin with some lazily slaps.

you were about to step back, when he pulled you away by the neck, your hair falling over his grip, and face leaning toward him. “ already done ? don't run away. you gotta clean up your mess first ”

you lapped his cock to get him clean, rolling your tongue over his sensitive length, the fat shaft throbbing over your mouth, as your saliva soaked him. .

you were high — mouth licking innocent with stoned-looking filled with dizzy eyes. you needed more. but the moment you were about to talk, rafe came between your lips, spurting his warm loads inside you.

“ you wanted a thank you ? here it is. now we're done. ”

“ we all know that you will come back to me. ”

“ babe.” he cutted. “ you wish i came back for you’, but we all know why i came back. ”

“ pretend to not like it if you want, but don't forget to say my name when my taste will still drip from your mouth while you're kissing others. ”

“ glad that you're aware that you're not the only one. now, i'm leaving. don't call me. ”

“ don't need to call you when you will be at my door like a dog. ”

“ do i really have to put my dick in that mouth to shut you up ? or you gonna be a big girl and do it alone ? ”

“ oh oh. seems like you’re just looking for an excuse to do it, but your dick isn’t big enough to keep me quiet.”

“ not big enough ? ” he repeated with a smirk. “ keep talking, sweetheart before i'm gonna stretch that mouth open to death with that not-big-enough dick. ” he came closer, towering you with his height “ glad that you love yapping because after that, i can promise you that you will have something to talk for the entire year. now open that mouth. bigger. want to be a whore ? then make daddy fit in. ”

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