#shes a little fucked up lets not forget this

[peachibunns]

it’s short but first piece that isn’t a blurb !! who cheered —🐇

sevika fucking you in her car just cause you mentioned you were horny in the middle of the long ass drive back from visiting your family for the holidays. hands gripping the fat of your thighs as you cling to her, fingers tangling in her hair while she fucks you in the backseat. she’s grateful for the fact you’re in the middle of nowhere because the sounds coming from you are downright pornographic. pretty little whines and whimpers of her name that only seem to get her going more, burying her strap into your pretty cunt cause she’s so desperate to make u feel good ! she loves seeing her angel feeling good, and she’s alright with a delay in the schedule if it means getting you off.

“love this pussy, baby. ‘s so pretty.” she grins, eyes fixed on where you join, watching the purple of her strap disappear and reappear, practically dripping with your slick. you’re basically going stupid, clinging to her like she’s your life force.

“ohmygod, ‘vika-“ you’re keening against her, trying to get her to focus on you rather than your cunt. it’s useless. she’s drunk on it, as she often is. there’s nothing sevika loves more than your pussy, except maybe you. she looks up at you for a moment, head dipping down to kiss you so softly you almost forget the roughness of her thrusts. you’re quite sure the car is shaking, but you’re too fucked to care. “gonna make me cum, baby–“ you gasp, thighs trembling.

“hnm, i can tell, sweet thing. practically drowning me, shit,” sevika laughs cockily— she knows she fucks you good, and she’s proud of it. the little pool of your wetness that’s gathered on the blanket beneath you is proof enough for her that she should be proud. she slows her movements and you practically sob with need.

“Someone’s impatient,” you can tell from her face that she’s absolutely enjoying this, and she doesn’t even try to hold back a little grin when she speaks. her thrusts pick back up again, and she lets out a little hum in satisfaction when she hears how slick you are.

“Oh baby, listen to ‘er,” she murmurs into your ear, hot breath sending a chill down your spine when her thumb moves to your clit, a cocky laugh slipping from your girlfriend’s throat.

when you finally cum, letting out a downright nasty moan of her name, sevika cleans you up quickly and sets you in the back of the car with all the pillows and blankets she can find so you can get some rest while she keeps driving. what a gentleman she is.

[covenofagatha]

hey!! can you do one where you run into professor agatha at the library while doing homework and it ends with her making you sit on her cock without moving while you study and you're impatient and she ends up fucking you right there in thar secluded corner (with lots of overstimulation and daddy kink if you're comfortable with that?)

Inspiration struck for this one today so hope everyone enjoys

I just started a new semester so probably won't be posting as much but I will do my best to keep writing and putting stuff out regularly. Also will be pausing any Agathario x reader fics for the moment

Learning to focus

When you run into Professor Harkness at the local library while you're supposed to be working on a project for her history class, you find yourself distracted by her (again)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: public sex, GP Agatha, fingering, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstimulation, it really was agatha all along, slight humiliation?, hints of degradation

The Westview University campus library is always packed, so you usually opt for the local library about twenty minutes away from the school. 

Much quieter and way less crowded. 

And you don’t have to worry about running into any failed situationships or crazy roommates from past years. 

Plus it’s a really nice library, two stories with long glass windows stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Even when you don’t have school work, you often enjoy coming here just to read or play on your computer. It’s a peaceful place, a place that lets you just relax and forget about the outside world and all the stress you feel. 

Stress mainly from one class. Your history class. 

Professor Agatha Harkness was the only one who taught U.S. History when your schedule could allow it, which meant you had to ignore all the bad reviews on RateMyProfessor.com, because you had no other option. 

On the first day, you could see exactly where they came from. 

One boy had shown up five minutes late, practically a miracle on the first day of classes, stammering an excuse about how bad traffic was, Professor Harkness had fixed him with a glare and told him that he better drop the class. 

You were just thankful that you had a class before hers, otherwise you would’ve been late, too. 

She was just as mean and ruthless and cold as everyone said she’d be. Her assignments were almost outrageous and she graded them so harshly it was honestly impressive you weren’t failing yet. 

But the one thing the reviews forgot to mention was how attractive she is. Her long, dark hair that she’d often keep back in a ponytail. Her sharp blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean on a dark night. Her high cheekbones, her pointed nose, her wicked smirk, honestly, everything about her. 

You suppose the more impressive thing is that you aren’t failing with how often you get distracted by the way her fingers on her left hand tighten around the dry-erase marker when she’s drawing time-lines on the board. When she sways her hips and flexes her knuckles which tightens her veins, you feel a tugging in your gut and you have to bite your lip. 

And you definitely should not be noticing the bulge in her pants when she sits back with her legs spread in her chair while the class is taking an exam. 

You have an optimal seat, all the way to the right of her desk and in the front row, so you can take her in without her noticing you too much. 

If anyone looked too closely at you, they’d assume you were sweating because of the forty-five multiple choice and five written questions you had to answer in only a little over an hour. 

That wasn’t it. 

You swore she saw you looking one time, one particular day when she was wearing a blue flannel and loose fitting cargo pants. You were staring, so completely distracted when you should’ve been taking notes that you didn’t even notice she had dismissed the class. 

It wasn’t until you finally realized that she was stalking toward you that you had fucked up. You had swallowed roughly and moved to shove your stuff into your bag when she had put her hands on your desk and leaned in, causing you to completely forget how to breathe. 

“You seemed a little preoccupied there,” she murmured in a low voice, her hint of cologne tickling your nose. “Try to pay better attention next time. Don’t want to have to teach you a lesson.”

You had promptly nodded and almost ran to your dorm to fuck yourself to the thought of her teaching you a very different kind of lesson. 

Professor Harkness is in your head, and you can’t get her out no matter how hard you try. Except right now, you really need to focus, because the end-of-semester project is due in a week and you haven’t started. 

Did she give you the entire four months of the course to complete it? Yes. But you have never been good at working ahead or at time management. 

She had assigned a ten page paper along with a hand-drawn timeline about something that had happened in the history of the United States. You had picked the Salem Witch Trials, and Professor Harkness had winked when you got the topic approved by her. 

So you’re about to spend the next probably five hours in the library trying to make some headway on this project. The timeline should be easy, but it’s the paper you’re worried about. 

You go up the stairs and wind through the aisles of books on the second floor until you get to your secluded corner, the one you always go to, the one with a small table and two chairs hidden by bookshelves and gasp. 

Your favorite spot has been taken by none other than Professor Harkness. She’s sitting in the chair you usually sit in, pen between her teeth, staring at papers. 

When she looks up, she doesn’t even seem surprised to see you and a slow grin spreads over her face. 

“Professor, what are you doing here?” You ask, fiddling with the straps on your tote bag. Should you go somewhere else?

She chuckles. “In a public library in the town where I live?” 

Your cheeks burn. “Right. Um, I’ve just never seen you here before.” And then you inwardly kick yourself because now it sounds like you’ve been on the lookout. 

“Wanted to get out of the house,” she shrugs. “Have some papers to grade for that project due next week. How’s yours coming?” 

“Oh, really good,” you lie, shifting your weight and trying to think of a quick way to get out of this conversation. “Almost done. Well, I don’t want to bother–” 

She interrupts you by sliding the chair out next to her and patting it. “Why don’t you come show me what you have? I can give you some help, free of charge.” She winks, a glint in her eyes, and it makes your stomach twist. 

“Oh, Professor, that’s not necessary,” you say nervously but she tsks and waves dismissively. 

“Please, call me Agatha. It’s the weekend and we’re off campus. Now, come sit.” She makes it clear it’s an order and you gulp before taking the seat. Even being this close to her is affecting your body and you know there’s absolutely no way you’re getting anything done. 

She’s currently grading a paper about the Boston Massacre and it’s drenched in red ink. You’re not sure which you feel more of: annoyance at your over-achieving classmates or absolute dread for how Agatha is going to react when she finds out that you haven’t even started and, even worse, lied about it. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling her intense gaze on you. “So, the thing is…” You trail off, reaching down to pull out your laptop. You set it on the table and slowly open it, silently begging for the floor underneath you to open up and swallow you whole. 

Anything would be better than this humiliation. 

“Yeah?” Agatha breathes, suddenly much closer to you. You will your eyes to not look away from the computer screen and type in your password, praying that you didn’t leave anything that embarrassing up. 

It opens up to the blank document titled Salem Witch Trials, just so it’s clear to Agatha what exactly this page was supposed to be. 

You’d rather it have been porn. 

Your professor chuckles slowly next to you. “Thought you were almost done?” She simpers in that gruff voice that drives you wild. “Did you get distracted again?” 

Agatha leans forwards, resting her elbow on the table, and perching her head in her hand so she can peer at you. Your eyes glance over to meet hers and then back to your computer, but in your peripheral vision, you can see her body tilt toward yours and her legs open just the slightest. 

Your mouth runs dry and you make a pointed effort not to look between them. 

“What’s gotten you so preoccupied, babygirl?” She asks and you clench around nothing at the shift in tone and the pet name. Holy fuck. “I’ve seen you staring in class, you know. You’re not very subtle at all.” 

Forget being swallowed by the floor, you might just combust out of pure embarrassment. 

You try to stammer out something, an apology maybe, sorry for wanting to fuck you, Professor, but no sounds come out of your mouth. Her other hand comes up and teases a lock of your hair and you finally work up the courage to look at her. 

Agatha’s eyes are heated and dark, all the blue practically gone, and her lips are parted just so. And then you flick your eyes down to between her legs involuntarily and you have to bite back a whimper because she’s fucking hard. 

You can see her length through her navy pants and your brain short-circuits. Agatha likes this. Agatha likes you. 

“Is that what gets you all hot and bothered? Can’t focus because you’re too busy staring at me?” Agatha asks, hand dropping to palm herself. She gives her dick a quick stroke and lets out a tight sigh and you have to hold onto the table to steady yourself. 

Heat rushes through your body in an almost unbearable way. “Yes,” you whisper hoarsely. 

Agatha takes her hand off herself and taps a finger to her lips. “Hmm,” she draws out thoughtfully. You can feel a puddle growing in your underwear. “You know, I’m used to the crushes. Doesn’t even phase me anymore, usually it’s college girls who are just so desperate for attention. Not getting it anywhere else and they think that their fifty year old professor will be into them.” 

Your jaw clenches. Is this the part where she rejects you? 

But Agatha smirks and looks you up and down, takes in your squirming body in the chair. “And I never have even considered it. Until you. None of them have been as delicious as you, pet.” 

And it makes your head spin. It’s almost as if you’re in a trance when your hand grabs onto her thigh and Agatha lets out a low moan. 

“Please,” you say, desperation in your voice. What are you asking for? You don’t even think you know. 

Agatha tuts. “Do you really think you deserve anything? This paper is due in a week and you haven’t even started. Doesn’t seem like you should get a reward for procrastinating, does it?” 

“It’s not my fault,” you whine before you can even think about it. There’s something about this side of Agatha specifically that makes your mind turn to mush. 

She raises an eyebrow like she’s daring you to say that again. “I think you need to learn how to keep that pretty head of yours focused.” She nods to the computer screen. “Make an outline.”

You swallow roughly and straighten up, putting your hands on the keyboard. You’ve just switched tabs and begun googling “Salem Witch Trials” when Agatha’s hand lands on your upper thigh. 

You freeze and glance at her out of the corner of your eye to find her scribbling another note on the paper in front of her. You don’t know how she’s so calm and collected when you feel like your entire body is on fire. 

“Focus,” she tells you in that deep voice of hers and you click on the first result that comes up as her fingers begin to toy with the hem of your skirt. 

You try, you really do try, but it’s so fucking hard to read the words on the screen when she’s inching closer and closer to your underwear, which you can feel is absolutely drenched. 

And soon enough, she’s going to feel it, too. You can almost hear her dark laugh already when she realizes just how affected you are. 

Her fingertips brush against you and instead of laughing, she gasps. “Oh, pet, no wonder you never pay attention in class,” she coos and a thrill runs through you despite how embarrassed you are. She effortlessly finds your clit through the fabric and rubs it and you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip so you don’t make a sound. 

“Agatha,” you say under your breath and you can practically hear her smirking. Why is it so hot that she is still grading the paper as she starts to run her fingers up and down your pussy over your underwear? She dips in at your entrance and a muffled groan tears itself out of your mouth. 

“Is this what you’re like while I’m teaching, too?” She muses conversationally, but you look down just in time to see her cock twitch in her pants. It makes you feel even more exhilarated, knowing she’s just as affected. But then she moves your panties to the side and slides her fingers through your folds and you forget any train of thought you had. You really hope your wetness isn’t as loud as it sounds. “Dripping for me like a little slut? Getting yourself all worked up when I’m talking about the Declaration of Independence? It’s pathetic.” 

You whimper, maybe in agreement, maybe at how good it feels when she pushes a finger into you, but her eyes slightly glaze over at the feeling of your warm walls around her. 

“God, Agatha,” you moan, your own hand coming down to wrap around her wrist when she starts moving. You can feel her flexing with each thrust and your tongue presses against your cheek as you breathe heavily, leaning toward her. 

She presses a quick kiss to your head and scrapes her teeth against your ear before hotly whispering, “Better be quiet, babygirl. And focus. Or I’ll stop.”

You manage to type out three bullet points worth of information when she slips another finger into you and you clamp a hand over your mouth before you moan obscenely. 

Agatha leans over to read what you have so far. “Who was the first woman to be executed for witchcraft?” She asks and you realize that you never finished that sentence. 

“Bridget Bishop,” you gasp, and she swipes at your clit as a reward, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

You continue to type, hoping it’s making sense because you can’t even comprehend the words, while Agatha continues to twist her fingers inside you roughly and rub your clit. You can feel your orgasm slowly building, and it only makes it worse every time Agatha hums right into your ear at something you’ve written. Your walls are clenching around her, trying to draw her even further into you, and she can tell you’re getting close, you’re going to cum so quickly around her fingers. 

“There we go pet, such a good girl for Daddy,” she says into your ear and you spasm all around her, the name sending you right over the edge. 

Who knew you’d like that so much? 

Apparently Agatha did, who grins like a cat getting her cream as she fucks you through your orgasm with her fingers, keeping a steady rhythm on your clit. You taste blood from biting your lip so hard but you manage to keep quiet and you finally come down from your high. 

But it’s not enough, you need more, and judging by the straining of Agatha’s cock against her pants, she needs more, too. 

You move to touch her but she slaps your hand away. “Not yet,” she growls and it sends another blast of heat through you. You think there might be a wet spot on the chair underneath you. 

It only makes it worse when she reaches down and undoes her own belt, fiddles with the button exasperatedly, and finally unzips her pants. She reaches inside and your jaw drops open when she pulls out her hard and leaking cock. It’s big, big enough to make your mouth water, and it almost looks painful. Agatha gives herself a few strokes, hips jumping, and she hisses when she rubs her thumb over the tip. 

“Think you can focus while you sit on Daddy’s cock, babygirl?” She taunts. You’ve never felt so empty in your life, you need her so bad, and she’s right there. 

You almost want to bend down and take her into your mouth, taste her hard cock. 

“I asked you a question,” she reminds you roughly, slapping your thigh to get your attention. The sting makes you jump. “God, you really do get distracted easily.” 

You mumble an apology, cheeks flushing. “I can focus, I promise,” you say, trying to sound convincing, but neither of you believe it. Regardless, she smirks and pats her legs and you do a cautious sweep of the surrounding area. This is incredibly dangerous and if you get caught, you both will get in serious trouble. 

But for some reason, the thrill of getting caught only turns you on more. 

So you stand up and straddle her and sit down, taking her cock in one fell swoop. She goes in easy with how wet you are and you bottom out in her lap, the both of you groaning quietly with restraint. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” you hear Agatha huff and you squeeze your walls around her in response. It makes her thrust up and you inhale sharply at the feeling. She is so big and you can feel her throbbing inside you. “Better keep working.” 

You lean forward slowly to move your laptop closer, the stretch absolutely delicious and she chuckles when you gasp as you settle back onto her. Agatha wraps her arms around your waist and you really do try to be good and focus, but every so often, she shifts beneath you and it hits that spot so deep inside you and you can’t help but squirm to try and get more. 

Would she notice if you slowly start moving? Most likely, but it’s worth the risk. You give the gentlest roll of your hips and Agatha moans low into your ear before her fingernails dig into your hips through your skirt to still you. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispers dangerously so you’re forced to sit without moving on her cock that is filling you up better than anything ever has before. 

It’s sweet torture and you write a few more sentences before you can feel your wetness dripping down her cock and out of you. Every so often, you’ll clench around her, too, completely involuntarily, of course, and she’ll buck into you like she can’t help it while breathing suddenly. You’re not sure how much longer of this you can take, the ache spreading everywhere in your body and absolutely ruining you. 

“Agatha,” you whine again, begging, starting to move despite her death-like grip on your waist. 

She moves your hair to the side and nips at your neck. “Yes, babygirl?” 

“Can you please–” you begin, frustration leaking into your voice, tears pricking in your eyes. “Can you please move? Please, I need it so bad. I’m trying so hard to focus, please, can you fuck me? Daddy–”

Turns out, all you needed to convince her was to call her that, because she finally breaks and starts thrusting her hips up and pounding her cock into you. Your hand flies over your mouth and you bite onto a finger to stop yourself from crying out and you wish you weren’t in a library right now, rather be in the comfort of Agatha’s bed or car or office or anywhere but here, so you could be as loud as you want. 

“Let’s see if you’re still distracted after Daddy fucks all the thoughts out of your head,” she snaps and fuck, you’re already so close after cockwarming her for those few minutes. She reaches around you with a hand to circle your clit, which is already sensitive from your previous orgasm and a muffled sound escapes you. Agatha laughs breathlessly and you strain your ears to hear if anyone is coming near you – not that you could do anything about it now – but there’s nothing. 

Thank god this is a relatively empty library, especially at this time of the day, and that the two of you are tucked away in the back where it’s hard to see normally. 

Agatha’s thrusts are getting so powerful that you’re forced to put your hands out on the table for balance which means it gets a lot harder to control your noises. But your professor, ever the problem-solver, comes up with a solution. 

She slides two fingers into your mouth so you can suck on them and so your moans are stifled. Agatha presses her fingers against your tongue, scrapes her nails against it, and draws them out before shoving them back in, effectively fucking both your mouth and your pussy. 

“You feel so good, babygirl, so fucking tight,” she pants into your ear and you gag when she pushes her fingers down your throat. 

It’s so much, so much stimulation from her cock and her fingers and the fact that you’re being fucked in a public library where anyone could see that your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and it’s explosive. You sink your teeth into her skin and she moans, almost being louder before she remembers to control herself. 

You need a moment to collect yourself, but she doesn’t give it to you; instead, she shoves you off her lap and stands up right behind you without her cock ever leaving your body. 

Agatha bends you over the table, hand pressing against your back, and you have just enough awareness to move your laptop out of the way before she sets a bruising pace. The table must be bolted down to the floor or something, because it thankfully doesn’t move. 

Agatha grunts softly with each thrust and you can feel her twitching inside you even though it feels like every single one of your nerves is on fire. 

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can again,” you quietly sob, the pleasure fraying your mind, the sensitivity of your clit making you gasp when she rubs it. You feel like you’re drifting away from your body, dizziness swarming your head. “Too much,” you babble. 

But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up her speed and tears fall from your eyes. “You can, babygirl, I know you can. You can take it – fuck, you feel so good around me.” 

Agatha losing her composure because of you, just knowing you have that kind of affect on someone usually so cold and unaffected, is starting to build your orgasm back up. 

“Daddy,” you whine, trying to be as quiet as you can. Her rhythm is starting to falter, she’s throbbing and twitching and cursing, fingers scrambling for purchase on your hips, and you know she’s getting close. 

“So perfect, babygirl,” she mutters and you know she’s refraining from being louder, too. “I’ve wanted you for so long, ever since the first day when you walked into my classroom wearing that short skirt.” 

The confession makes you clench and a gasp escapes your lips. You’re climbing closer and closer to the edge and Agatha isn’t far behind. 

“Knew I had to have you,” she keeps going and your body is practically vibrating. 

She’s pounding into you so deep, filling you so good, her cock dragging against your walls in the best way. Her ragged words are getting to her, too; you can tell in the way her thrusts become shallower and shorter like she can’t do anything more. 

You’d make a quip about her being distracted but you can’t form a sentence right now. Every thought in your head is gone. 

“Daddy knows you come here,” she continues and your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t even think you can understand her. You’re close, so close. “Knew you hadn’t started on the project. Knew you’d be here – fuck, babygirl.” She breaks off with a sharp inhale as you squeeze around her at her words. 

This whole thing was planned. She’s wanted you just as badly as you’ve wanted her. And now she’s fucking you against a table in a library because of it. 

She reaches around and rubs your clit and that’s it. 

You cum all over her cock, walls convulsing around her, and she quickly follows, pumping her cum into you. You feel her warmth spreading through you and it makes you gasp. 

Thankfully she pulls out because you truly can’t take anymore and she slides your underwear back into place before her cum can drip down your legs. She turns you around after zipping her pants back up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“You okay?” She murmurs and you weakly nod. “Is that pretty head of yours clear now? Think you can focus?” 

The question makes you laugh. There are no thoughts left in your head whatsoever. “You do know that I’m only going to be thinking about this in your classes right? You just made the problem ten times worse.” 

Agatha smirks and taps under your chin. “Tell you what, pet. For each day early you turn this project in, that’s one more reward you’ll get.” 

And even though you’re completely worn out, your clit pulses at the thought of more. 

“Think you’ll be able to focus now?” Agatha asks sweetly. You nod eagerly, your brain suddenly able to piece together how you’re going to structure your paragraphs, and she chuckles. “It’s all about finding the right motivation. I look forward to seeing your final project.” She winks, packs up her stuff, and then walks away. 

You sit down in the chair, making a mental note to clean that and the table before you leave, and open your laptop back up. 

Cracking your knuckles, you get to work, suddenly able to focus so much better now. 

[cameronsprincess]

i understand that reqs r closed and u completely don’t have to fulfill this but i thought you’d do a BANGER job at this prompt: u and rafe r married but are getting divorced and u threw a divorce party… only to end the night going home with him… a little bit of angst with some smut?? idk make it ur own 💗

zyaaaa<3 i love you for this, and thank you for trusting ME with your request!!!

CW: 18+ only! slight angst, more fluff than i intended, divorce, smut, male receiving oral, piv sex.

note: yeah yeah reader went out w her friends but left w rafe and none of them tried to stop her. in my head none of them noticed their interaction/her leaving with him. let’s pretend they’re blowing up her phone while she’s gettin’ the best dick down of her lifeee. also, i suck at endings, its my biggest flaw so yeah sorry if the ending is bad.

“here’s to finally being free of the most toxic marriage to the most toxic man!” you say joyfully, clinking your glass with three of your closest friends.

your friends all giggle, bringing the champagne flutes to their lips and taking small sips. you glance around your house, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders as you take in how freeing it feels to finally have your divorce finalized. you’d been married for three years, and while it was good at first, somewhere during the marriage your— now ex— husband had become cold and indifferent toward you. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor could you give a reason why, but all you knew was enough was enough. you were too young and too beautiful to spend the rest of your life in a loveless marriage to a man who treated you like shit.

your friends voice rips you from your thoughts. “earth to y/n.. you okay babe?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, giving your friend a big smile before nodding your head. “yeah i’m fine,” pausing, you down the rest of your champagne, setting the glass onto your coffee table and rising from your spot on the couch. “let’s go out tonight.”

your friends all share slightly concerned looks with one another before their attention lands on you. nicole clears her throat, awkwardly shifting before she finally speaks, “i mean.. yeah sure, but are you sure you wanna put yourself out there like that right now?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “yes i’m sure. i just spent the last year of my life going through a messy divorce process, so i’d like to go out with my girls, have some drinks, dance a little, and maybe, just maybe, find some hot guy to bring home. i’m not going out to find my next husband, jesus.”

and that’s exactly what you did, but little did you know… the man you’d go home with was your ex husband.

—

“another shot of patrón please? thank you!” you shout to the bartender, giving him a flirty half-drunken smile.

the bartender nods, moving to pour your drink before sliding it across the bar to you. you smile, grabbing the glass and downing it before setting it back on the bars top.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks.” a low, raspy voice says from behind you.

you bite at your bottom lip, smiling to yourself before turning to face the mystery man. your eyes widen in shock when you see rafe, standing so close to you that you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“rafe.. what the fuck are you doing here?”

he smiles down at you, taking a step closer, backing you into the bar. “i could ask you the same question. the divorce only finalized today, trying to forget me so soon, sweetheart?”

“i’m not your fucking sweetheart, rafe. now leave me alo-”

rafe grips at your hips, pulling your body into his. he dips his head down, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, groaning as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “i miss you. do you miss me?”

your pussy pulses from his words, the smell of him so intoxicating it had your head spinning more than it already was. you did love him, and you hated that he pushed you to file for divorce, but it’s how things were. you couldn’t mess up everything you’d fought for, not now, not ever.

you try and shove him back, but his hands tighten on your waist, not allowing you to move. “baby, stop. m’sorry, for everything. i know the divorce finalized today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still fuck.. maybe try and just be friends, date, see where life takes us, right?”

he was trying to manipulate your drunk mind, and you couldn’t let him win. you refused to let him win. it was done. you were free of him, so why was he here and trying to reel you back in? he didn’t miss you, he missed the comfort you brought him, he missed how you’d always try and calm his mind, how you’d forgive him every time he fucked up. he didn’t miss you.

“rafe please, stop. i’m too drunk for this argument. you don’t fucking miss me, you miss the way i was for you,” you pause, your half-lidded eyes looking up and finding rafe’s beautiful blue eyes. “i can’t do this, please.”

you tear your eyes off his, knowing if you looked into them for too long, you’d be a goner. you’d go home with him, let him have his way with you, and wake up regretting it in the morning, because you and rafe could never work out. not as friends, not as a couple, not as anything.

rafe slides his left hand up your sides, reaching your face and cupping your cheek in his hand. his thumb slowly strokes the skin before he hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, forcing your head up.

“baby.. i do miss you. please, just— just let me prove to you how much i fucking miss you.”

his words tug at your heartstrings, your body melting into his touch like it always did. tears well in your eyes, your chin wobbling as you look into his eyes, eyes that used to make your heart stop and made you feel safe and at home.

sighing, you nod your head once. “okay.. okay fine. just one night, we can look at it as… goodbye sex. right?”

a smile takes over rafe’s lips, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart. let’s go.”

he quickly grabs your hand, pulling you across the dance floor and out the doors of the club you were in. the warm, mid-summer air hits your skin, the light breeze sending goosebumps up your arms. rafe drags you across the parking lot, eagerly reaching his truck and unlocking it, opening the passenger door for you. you raise a brow at him, “someone’s really trying tonight, isn’t he? you stopped opening my door for me years ago.”

rafe chuckles. “i’m sorry for that… truly.”

you roll your eyes, giving him a small smile before lifting yourself into his truck, pulling on your seatbelt as he shuts the door for you. he rounds the front of his truck, hopping into the driver seat and starting the truck, putting it into reverse and speeding out of the clubs parking lot.

the ride back to rafe’s house is comfortably silent, and the second you two arrive, rafe is killing the engine and hopping out to help you out and into his house.

you barely make it through the front door before rafe’s lips are on yours. he grips your hips in his hands, squeezing tightly as his lips devour yours. he bites at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it softly. he rests his forehead against yours, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the small entryway of his house.

“fuck i missed you, i missed you so fucking much sweetheart.” rafe breathes out, his hands slowly running up and down your sides.

he runs his hands down to your ass, squeezing at it softly before running them down further, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. he begins slowly pulling the dress up your body, exposing your black lace thong, sucking in a sharp breath, “fuck.”

your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze, “rafe.. please? ‘m so horny, just need to feel you tonight, okay? just make me forget why we split up.”

rafe bites his bottom lip hard, nodding his head furiously. he pulls your dress off completely, tossing it behind you. he dips his head down again, his lips attacking the length of your neck with sloppy, open mouthed kisses. your knees grow weak, slightly shaking when he sucks softly at the skin of your neck, pulling back and groaning as he admires the deep purple bruise he’d marked you with.

“so beautiful,”

you drop to your knees, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt, finally pulling it free from the loops of his khakis and tossing it to the floor before working his button and zipper. rafe is quick to shove his khakis and boxers down, letting his hard cock spring free. you moan at the sight of him, hands reaching out hesitantly to grip at his thick shaft.

a low groan spills from rafe’s lips the second your hands wrap around him, giving slow and deliberate strokes. “always looked so pretty on your knees f’me, never wanna lose this, baby.”

you dart out your tongue, licking up the precum that had leaked from his tip. you moan at the taste of him on your tongue. you missed him, and this is definitely a huge step backward, but you’d deal with the consequences later. tonight, you wanted to soak up having him be attentive and loving with you again, he hadn’t been this way in so long.

“c’mon baby, suck my cock, need to feel those pretty lips wrapped ‘round me.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip and sucking at it lightly, your hands still slowly stroking at his shaft. rafe groans, his head thrown back in pleasure as his cock twitches in your hands. you slowly push more of him into your mouth, sucking him down your throat until he’s buried deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you hold him there, breathing in deep through your nose, while your tongue works at the vein on the underside of his cock.

you pull your head back, leaving only the tip in your mouth. you tease him, sucking at his head before pulling him out completely, giving quick strokes with your hands, your lips leaving soft kisses up and down his length.

rafe wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at your messy locks as he groans in frustration. “baby, please? you wanna hear me beg? i’m not beneath begging, not with you at least.”

you shift on your knees, your clit pulsing at how desperate he was for you. this is what you wanted, for rafe to be desperate for your touch and attention. not wasting another second, you push him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you begin bobbing your head up and down, taking him all the way down your throat before slowly sliding him back out. rafe’s grip on your hair loosens, but he quickly tightens it back, yanking at your hair harshly as he holds you in place. he begins thrusting his hip, fucking himself down your throat at a quick pace, taking away your air with each push of his hips.

tears roll down your face, your throat already sore from how hard he was fucking it. you gag and moan around him, feeling him twitch in your mouth, the vein on the bottom of his shaft throbbing. you work your tongue against him, helping push him toward his release. rafe’s cock swells, low curses falling from his lips. he yanks your head back by your hair, his cock slipping from your lips, “goddamn… forgot how good you take a throat fucking, baby.. but i wanna cum somewhere else tonight.”

your tear-filled, bloodshot eyes meet his and he extends his hand out for you to grab. you hesitantly place your smaller hand in his, letting him pull you up off your knees. his lips are on yours in seconds, tongue slipping into your mouth, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. rafe listen you off the ground, pulling you into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist. he walks you into the large living room, his lips never leaving yours. he finally breaks the kiss, gently dropping you onto his couch, the cool leather chilling your hot skin.

rafe drops to his knees, his fingers digging into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs and tossing them onto the coffee table behind him. his eyes flit down to your dripping pussy, the bright blue of his eyes drowned out by his blown pupils. he grips your thighs in his hands, roughly spreading them further apart, “you’re soaked, sweetheart. i knew you fuckin’ missed me.”

you whimper, rolling your hips in a silent plea for him to touch you. rafe chuckles, his right hand releasing your thigh and moving to cup your pussy. he slides two fingers through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before bringing them to his lips, “mmm.. still so sweet.” he rasps.

rafe stands to his full height, lifting you off the couch and turning, sitting himself down with you in his lap. you grind yourself against his hard cock, moaning at the delicious pressure on your clit as you did. rafe lets his head fall back, his hands tightly gripping at your ass as he helped you slide yourself against his throbbing cock. you lift yourself onto your feet, hovering over him as you grasp his shaft in one hand, lining him with your entrance. rafe’s eyes find yours, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he waited to finally feel your pussy wrapped around him.

you slowly sink yourself down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison. you sit yourself all the way down, burying him to the hilt, both of your hands flying to his shoulders, your nails digging into the soft skin. rafe hisses in a breath, his cock pulsing inside you, “can i move? please baby? wanna fuck this perfect fucking pussy.”

you whimper when he bucks his hips, the swollen head of his cock hitting at your sweet spot. “yes. please, rafe. please fuck me.”

that’s all rafe needed to hear. his hands make purchase on your hips, lifting you up off his cock, leaving only the tip inside before he slams himself back in. you cry out his name, leaning forward and burying your face in his neck. rafe lifts your hips slightly, allowing himself just enough room to quickly pound himself into you. your walls clench around him, tears rolling down your cheeks from the pleasure he was giving you but also because you knew, you couldn’t let him go again after this.

you lift your face from his neck, resting your forehead against his, the two of you staring into each others eyes as rafe continues to fuck himself inside you. rafe pulls his right hand off your hip, his thrusts slowing as he reaches up and swipes a tear from your cheek. “don’t cry, baby.”

you sniffle, “just feels so… fuck— so good, rafe.”

rafe slowly moves his hips, his thrusts slow and sensual. you cup his face in your hands, your eyes scanning his perfect face before falling to his lips. rafe leans forward, capturing your lips with his as the two of you move your hips in sync. you moan against his lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, “rafe.. ‘m so close… please..”

“i know baby… i know,” rafe lets out his out pleasure filled moan, his voice cracking as the next words leave his mouth, “i love you… fuck i love you, this is all about you, let it out, be my good girl and cum f’me, yeah?”

you let out a choked sob, the three small words that left his mouth pulling your heart in more ways than one. your mind is reeling, does he mean it? was losing you what he needed to realize he truly loves you and needs you? do you forgive him? your pussy clenches around rafe’s dick, your lower belly tightening as rafe’s slow strokes push you toward the edge. you sink your teeth into rafe’s shoulder, muffling your cries as you come undone around him, tears uncontrollably rolling down your face.

rafe groans, his thrusts slow and sloppy. his dick twitches inside you, a choked “i love you,” escaping him as he pushes in deep one final time, holding himself inside you as he fills your pussy with his cum.

the two of you are holding onto one another, coming down from your shared highs. heavy breathing fills the room, and when you fully come down from your bliss, you’re pulling yourself off of him, scrambling to find your panties, ignoring the wetness between your thighs and his cum seeping out of you. you’re quick to throw your panties on, turning to rush and find your dress, but rafe grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him.

you can’t look at him, “hey.. baby, look at me, please.”

a tear falls down your face, but you force yourself to look into his eyes, noticing that his are filled with his own unshed tears.

“this was a mistake.” you whisper, but rafe heard you anyways.

his brows furrow, “how can you say that?”

you try and push off of him, but he tightens his arms around you.

“rafe, please. we got a divorce. you made your bed, you chose to treat me like shit and lose me. we can’t work. we don’t work.”

rafe sighs, “listen. i meant everything i said, i’m fucking sorry. i love you, i just… goddamnit, i just suck at showing my emotions. i suck at letting people in, and because of that, i pushed you away and lost the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” you laugh, rolling your eyes but rafe’s face never falters. “i’m not fucking joking. i fucking love you, okay? okay, y/n? i fucking love you, and i need you.”

you don’t know what to think. your divorce was just finalized, you can’t possibly go back… can you? you do love him, and never wanted this in the first place. what if you take him back and things go back to shit? you’ll look like an idiot.

rafe cups your face in his hands, his blue eyes shining as he stares back at you. “i see you overthinking this, and i understand. i do. but hear me out, please?”

“o—okay..”

rafe blows out a breath. “thank you. i know how i feel. i fucked up, and i want to prove to you that i can be better… for you. please, just, stay with me tonight, let me try and get a start on proving to you how much i need you back,” he pauses, swallowing harshly before he continues, “and if after tonight, you still feel the same.. you can leave and i’ll never bother you again.”

you think over his words, knowing that you would do anything to receive the love you once did from him again. you squeeze your eyes shut, running a hand through your hair as you let out a shaky breath. “rafe, i— fuck.. okay. fine. but if i do choose to take you back, you cannot go back to how things were. i can’t go through this again, i can’t look like the idiot who went running back just because her ex husband spewed a few sweet words after sex..”

rafe smiles hopefully, “i understand, i promise, i mean everything. i will prove to you how much i fucking love you,” he leaves a soft kiss to your lips, standing from the couch with you in his arms bridal style. “now, let’s get your upstairs and cleaned up, then we’ll lay in bed and we can talk about anything, whatever you want, tonight’s all about you, and i’m here to listen and do whatever i can to fix us.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @sarahsangelicdoll @nemesyaaa @cherryobx @httpsdrewstarkey @rafeyscurtainbangs @oceandriveab

[heavyhitterheaux]

Mo' Money Mo' Problems

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Asking for help has always been hard for you, but when you aren't left with another option, your recently drafted NFL boyfriend comes to your rescue

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested: by a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Erin looked at you as you sat down across from her and sighed. This had been going on for the past week and you had now given yourself a headache trying to figure out what you were going to do.

“Call your boyfriend.” Erin told you as she threw your phone for you to catch it, but you quickly shook your head no as you caught it before it hit the floor.

“I am not calling him.”

“And why NOT?” She exclaimed and looked at you as if you were crazy.

“Because this is my problem and I'm going to deal with it. I don't have to run to him for every little thing.”

“YOUR BOYFRIEND PLAYS IN THE NFL! AS A QUARTERBACK! Or did you suddenly forget?”

“Just because he plays in the NFL doesn't mean I’m going to take advantage of that.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“Bestie, I love you but you fucking annoy me so much sometimes. So let me ask you this, Joe doesn't have a problem asking you for sex correct?”

“What in the world are you getting at?”

“Answer my question.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“And he fucks you raw simply because you had a fucking pregnancy scare two semesters ago when he won the Heisman.”

“Erin, get to the point already. I was scared out of my damn mind.” You replied as you rolled your eyes.

“My point is that you shouldn't have a problem asking your boyfriend who fucks you raw for money. At the very LEAST like bare minimum he can give you a little cash.”

“I get it but..”

“Uh no you obviously don't. And you know how he is. First thing out of his mouth is going to be why didn't you tell him. I'm convinced that man would drink your bath water if you let him.”

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“Welp been doing that since we were three and that's not changing any time soon.”

“I don't know. I feel kind of weird asking people for anything. Like not just him and I’ve always been like that.” You said as you got up to go into your kitchen with Erin following close behind.

“It's not like he's going to want you to pay him back. I guarantee you that he'll give it to you without a second thought. You never know unless you try. Surprised he hasn't put your name on the bank account yet.”

“Something is wrong with you.”

“Bitch, don't act like he's not going to put a ring on your finger. Surprised he didn't do it our first semester.” Erin told you as you turned to look in the freezer for ground turkey to make homemade burgers for the two of you.

“Yes, obviously but not yet.”

“He is literally just waiting for you to graduate to do it.”

“And how do you know all this?” You asked as you began to cut up red onion along with some green bell peppers.

“I just do and like I said, he would drink your bath water.”

“Ew, Erin that's nasty.”

“Just calling it like I see it. But if you don't fix this in 48 hours when your rent is due, I'm calling Joe.”

Twenty four hours later you were finally lying down in your bed after a long and exhausting day, your phone rang indicating a facetime call coming through and you rolled over onto the other side to answer it. When your boyfriend's face came into view, you instantly smiled.

“Hi my love.” You quietly said and wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets that were covering you while propping up your phone.

“Hey baby doll. How was your day?” He asked while it looked like he was sitting up against the headboard.

“Hmm, long. I've been up since 4 in the morning. But you know I never pass up an opportunity to talk to you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too and Erin called me.”

“What? Why?”

She literally only gave you 24 hours and not 48 like she promised.

“You tell me. Something going on that I should know about?” Joe asked and you continued to look at him confused.

“Uh, not that I can think of.”

“Let me ask you this then. Have you paid your rent this month for your condo?”

“No and I have no idea why she called you. I told her I would take care of it.”

“Because you miscalculated your bills for this month and they added a whole bunch of fees and you decided to suffer instead of calling your boyfriend for help.”

“I…”

“Is that it?”

“I didn't want to bother you.” You quietly said and Joe just looked at you.

“Seriously? When are you ever bothering me? I have another question for you.”

“Yes?”

“You plan on being with me for a long time, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know that I'm going to take care of you right? Especially when you graduate and move up here.”

“Yes.”

“So, why wouldn't I take care of you now?”

“I know you will, but if I can do it on my own, I'm going to try to.”

“But I'm here and you don't have to. Aren't you a WAG now?” Joe asked as he smiled at you.

“I want to be the W and not the G.” You replied without skipping a beat.

“Who’s to say that I don't already have your ring?”

“Well, my finger is still bare so? What does that do for me?” You told him as you held it up so he could see your hand.

“Touché, princess.” Joe told you as he smirked.

“Mm hmm, that's what I thought.”

“But next time you come up here we're picking out a house.”

“I…”

“Me and my future wife along with my future kids need a place to live so we can start looking. Or we can have it built, your choice."

“And a new car, mine is on its last leg.”

“Name it and it's yours. That goes for whatever else you want to.”

“NO! I'm going to get it! You are not going bankrupt buying someone who is not even your wife expensive things.”

“You ARE my wife; it's just not on paper yet.” He told you as he shrugged while your cheeks began to heat up.

“Babeeeee.”

“What? I'm not saying anything that isn't true. And besides, I'm not spending any money from my contract. Just my endorsement deals. But back to our original problem, you're good for the rest of the year.”

“I… JOEY! That was like 4,000 dollars!”

“Money is not a factor when it comes to you. If you need it, I'm getting it. So can we move on?”

"Fine, while I have you in a giving mood, I want an elephant." You replied and Joe simply gave you a blank stare.

"Best I can do is the Cincinatti Zoo, you gotta work with me here."

"Well, you said 'name it and it's yours'."

"Baby, I meant within reason and an elephant is not within reason."

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

[mrsimpurity]

"AND I HIT IT LIKE IT’S ALL MINE" - satoru gojo

pairing: bestfriend!gojo x fem!reader

synopsis: having had enough of your 21 year long friendship with satoru, you come over in hopes of ending everything on somewhat good terms. things take a turn and after you make a heartfelt confession, satoru takes the last chance he might ever be offered

wc: 4.5k

warnings: dub con, manipulation, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, reader is naive, aftercare, cuddling, (gojo is a warning himself)

“you’re still friends with that guy?” shoko’s accusatory tone makes you sink in your seat in embarrassment. your little coffee date had been going well so far as the two of you had spent no less than two hours discussing absolutely everything that had happened this semester.

university and the stress which it provided, free of charge, was not the only thing that you and shoko shared. after stumbling upon her in one of the hallways on your very first day, the two of you found out that you had been assigned to the same dorm. soon enough, you and your roommate grew close and she became your most trusted friend. 

of course though, she wasn’t your oldest friend. fate had decided you’d be tethered to one of the most (generally acknowledged) annoying men for your whole life. and this particular childhood best friend was your choice for conversation this time.

“we’re childhood friends, i can’t just ditch him.”

“babe, with your wellbeing in mind, you’re being a total idiot. he gives me the creeps.”

“shoko, he’s really not that bad!” telling shoko about him seemed okay to do. you’d even thought that they would get along. but after sharing all the ups and downs, if you could even call them that, which you and satoru had gone through during your 21 years of friendship, everything seemed a little weirder and… intimate? 

sure, he could be a little handsy and familiar, but that was expected of someone who had seen you grow up. as you rambled on about your most recent “date” with him, shoko squinted her eyes in scrutiny, having had enough of listening to you talk about him. to her, he sounded like a complete stalker and obsessed psychopath who couldn’t get over his childhood crush.

the more you try to defend yourself though, the more you start to look back at your relationship with him. and in hindsight… perhaps he really could be a little weird at times?

like slipping a hand under your t-shirt whenever you’d mention you were on your period, for example.

“what? i’ve literally seen you naked when we were kids.” satoru would dismiss you whenever you’d voice your concerns about how 16 years later, your body had changed. but when his warm hands massage your sides and rub at your tummy as the pain fades away, your protests die on your tongue as you sink into his touch.

or kissing you on the mouth whenever the two of you would say farewell.

“hey, don’t leave me hanging.” satoru would pout, signaling he wanted a hug. but the second you’d reach to wrap your hands around him, he’d grab the back of your head and place a wet kiss on your cheek.

“ewww, satoru. we’re not kids anymore.” you’d whine, batting your eyelashes up at him in annoyance.

so he’d reach behind and pull you in by the neck, more carefully this time, as his lips land on yours. you freeze the first time he does it and satoru almost curses himself for being so fucking stupid and pushing himself onto you.

but the second time he tries his luck, you involuntarily moan into the kiss. he’s quick to slip his tongue inside your mouth for a moment before you suddenly push him away, surprised at yourself for even letting him do this. 

and even as he sees you stare at the floor in embarrassment, stomping away from him, hands clutching your handbag for dear life, he can’t forget the sweet moan you’d just let out. and he swears his dick has never been harder.

“yeah, he’s totally alright. definitely not fucked in the head. remind me of that one time he fondled your tits.” shoko lands a blow that has your cheeks growing red as you scan the café, hoping nobody heard that.

“i told you we were just cuddling! he wanted to help me relax.” you desperately try to defend yourself.

“were you on your period again? wait, that was a different situation. sore from the gym? shit, wait, that’s not it.”

shoko’s ironic little comments were definitely not helping you decide whether or not to continue this strange dynamic between you and the white-haired man.

“enlighten me, please. what excuse did he have this time? he just had to feel you up?” shoko ends her argument that serves as a punch to your gut. you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face and frankly speaking, you’d much prefer that than to have shoko snatch your rose-colored glasses off your face and bring everything out in the open. 

and even as your coffee date comes to an end and you completely change the topic, you’re left wondering if maybe shoko is right.

three days later, despite everything, you find yourself in satoru’s apartment. he had invited you over to play monopoly - something you did every week - but what he didn’t know was that he was about to be in for a surprise.

this was the night. you’d finally break ties and go your own ways. his confusing behavior didn’t necessarily make you feel uncomfortable. it was merely odd at times and as much as you’d appreciate an ounce of clarity, your friendship just had to end for good. and today was the perfect day to do this - the sooner, the better. maybe you’d break his heart but at least you’d leave with a little dignity. 

“satoru, don’t bother getting the board games out. or the snacks.” you say as you take off your shoes, stopping a surprised satoru in his tracks. he retreats from the dinner table and turns to face you. he places both of his hands on your shoulders and tilts his head with a pout.

“what’s wrong? you don’t wanna play anymore?” satoru asks sadly.

his attempts at making you fold don’t work this time and you grab his wrists, bringing his arms back to his side.

“satoru, i’ve been thinking, y’know…” you’re nervous as you begin what’s forming out to be a long speech.

“i’m not really sure we should be friends anymore. i’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me and the fact that you stood alongside me all this time, but i don’t find meaning in this friendship anymore.” you’re pretty proud of yourself for standing up to satoru, who still can’t quite decipher what it is you want to say.

“i’ve had the chance to look at our situation from a different perspective and i don’t think it’s normal.” you finish, taking a deep breath. you can pretty much see the gears shifting in satoru’s mind as he lets out a disbelieving scoff.

“it’s shoko, isn’t it? i knew she’d put ideas in your head and try to convince you i’m the bad one.” he speaks, his demeanor different from any other time.

“i’m sorry, toru. it’s not like that, i promise. you know she’s my closest friend though. she’s bound to give me advice.”

“what about me? i thought i was your closest friend. are you really going to listen to a girl you barely know and fuck up everything we’ve built the past years?” satoru accusing you of leaving him behind absolutely infuriates you because you’ve been doing quite the opposite.

something snaps inside of you and you raise your tone, begging to scare him away.

“shut it, satoru! i’ve had enough of it being all about you. you’re so overprotective at times. all you do is walk behind me like a dog all the time. i’ve given dozens of guys the wrong impression-“

“i’m really sorry, i had no idea-“ your best friend attempts to speak over you, surprised at your outburst, but you cut him off.

“no, satoru, you’ll let me fucking finish. haven’t you sat down and ever wondered what the fuck you were doing, chasing me all these years? i’ve been so busy explaining to guys that there’s nothing going on between us.”

you’re running out of breath with the way you’re rambling about everything you’ve kept hidden inside of you. your chest feels like it’s going to explode, but your heart also feels lighter. you feel yourself tear up as you face your best friend like you used to do in the good old times, and share whatever’s on your mind.

“god damn it, i’m a virgin at 21 because i haven’t had a single chance to talk to a guy without you coming up to us and acting like you own me. touching me like i’m yours and acting like a psycho. what the fuck is wrong with you?”

tears spill down your cheeks and you absentmindedly wipe them, not letting your emotions get in the way. you have to get everything off your chest and it has to happen right now.

“we’re done. i don’t wanna hear from you anymore. whatever weird thing we had going on-“ you say as you signal, waving your hand between the two of you, the distance between your figures more evident than ever “-is over.”

satoru stands, baffled. you observe his reaction, watching his expression suddenly soften. you don’t realise you’re shaking, tears still streaming down your face at your stupid, but heartfelt confession. as you take a deep breath, satoru speaks.

“please, don’t leave like this. i had no idea you felt this way, baby.”

“don’t fucking call me that.” a shudder runs through your body at the pet name as your mind tries its best to fight against his honeyed words and handsome face which want to lure you in, ensnare you once again.

“all you had to do was tell me. we can fix this. we’ve known each other our whole lives. you could’ve told me sooner.” satoru speaks after a moment. he tries to be as careful as he can, praying he doesn’t upset you again.

he steps forward and waits for you to retreat, but as you stare at his face, your knees lock and you freeze in place - something that’s happened many times before.

he doesn’t waste a second as he reaches for your face.

“i’m so, so sorry. it was stupid of me to act this way.” and as his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing manner, you just can’t find it in yourself to say another word against him. he runs his thumb over your trembling lip. 

“we’ll fix this. okay, baby?” you don’t even register the pet name, staring as satoru’s towering frame makes you feel like a little girl once again.

his lips lift up in a very small smirk which you’re almost sure resembles pity.

“you’re a virgin?” his words don’t mean to be insulting but he realises he’s hit a nerve when tears start streaming down your face once again. his eyes widen and he cradles your face with both of his hands.

“fuck, i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i was just curious, doll, i promise i wasn’t making fun of you” satoru whispers, holding your face like you’re a porcelain doll.

you don’t realise you’re in his territory once again as your feet walk you over to his bed. you take a seat, ass barely hanging on the edge of his freshly washed seats, your body prodding at your mind in its last attempts to get you the fuck out of here. but as satoru crouches down and you catch a whiff of his comforting scent, you know you’re a goner.

“i’ve been scared. i’ve grown accustomed to having you everywhere with me. i feel like it’d be weird. not that i’d be betraying you, it’s not like we’re together. just been scared, toru.” you mumble as your eyes fill up with tears at the thought of your pathetic love life. you feel as if you’re clawing at the walls, begging to regain a sense of dignity with your words, but your heart feels like it’s coming apart and has laid itself bare for satoru to pick at.

“you want me to help you, doll?” satoru’s suggestion fills the quiet room.

you’re convinced you’ve never cried harder in your life before as tears fill your eyes again. satoru seems like some kind of monster right now and your watery eyes further distort his image. 

“i don’t know. ‘m scared it’s gonna hurt” your pitiful expression stares into satoru’s eyes. you’d come here to break things off with him and now, your body had surrendered. you were minutes away from taking your clothes off and getting under the sheets with this man.

“shhh.. hey, look at me, doll. don’t stain this pretty face with your tears. you’re scared, hm?” satoru was by no means a saint, but with the way his cock was straining against his pants as he watched you cry over the thought of his cock entering you - he could swear he was able to feel the heat of eternal hell creeping up on him. 

“‘m sorry, i know it’s really stupid.” you couldn’t stop sniffling, elbows propped on your knees as you covered your face, begging for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth right now.

satoru gently pulls at your hands, forcing you to reveal your face. cupping your red cheeks, he carefully wipes at your tears with his thumbs as you sit in front of him on the edge of the bed.

“it’s not stupid, i promise. is that why you’ve been so frustrated? you could’ve just asked me.” he speaks to you condescendingly, but your mind can’t seem to notice.

“that’s embarrassing, why would i ever ask that of you?” is what you answer as you turn your head, avoiding his eyes out of sheer shame. satoru is quick to grab your chin and turn your head to face him.

“there’s nothing in the world i wouldn’t give you, baby. you just have to ask.” satoru speaks, so closely to your face, you can feel his breath on your lips. his words have a deeper meaning than you can currently register, but you take them in on a surface level as you lose all scruples you’ve seemed to have all this time.

satoru’s surprised when you’re the one who reaches for him. your lips crash on his and you stop thinking. your best friend pushes you further onto the bed and lays you on your back, his tongue still inside your mouth. 

a whine creeps up your throat as his kisses now move alongside your jaw and carefully travel down your neck. satoru is quick to find the sweet spot near your ear and you let out a moan as he lets his tongue run over the mark he just left.

his kisses and touches never stop, even when his face hovers over yours to ask for consent.

“are you sure, doll? we can stop at any time. just wanna know you’re doing this because you want to.“ his words are muffled as he smothers you in kisses - on the edge of your lips, on your nose bridge, on the forehead. 

“toru, i’m sure. please.” he places a final kiss on your lips, hearing the pure need in your voice.

his hands find purchase on the waistband of your sweatpants as he slides them down, peppering kisses down your legs in the process. you’re quick to get rid of your shirt and bra, throwing them wherever you can find.

your panties find themselves on the floor next before satoru kneels between your legs, spreading your thighs as far as he can. you don’t even realise what he’s doing before you feel his warm tongue lick a stripe between your folds and you can’t suppress the pornographicly loud moan the action elicits from you. 

satoru’s fingers are squeezing your thighs as they threaten to close in on him. his mouth latches onto your clit and he alternates between sucking and placing kitten licks on the swollen nub.

“t-toru. more.” your pleas reach his ears and one hand moves between your legs. 

“i know you want more, baby. just taking my time with you. i need you nice and wet for me so you can take me. think you can do that?”

you nod your head frantically as you feel his finger tease at your hole, gathering the arousal that’s practically dripping out of you and smearing your juices all over. 

“sooo sticky and sweet.” satoru murmurs in fascination as his head falls down between your legs again, this time as he eases a finger inside your hole. you whine at the sudden intrusion but your pussy welcomes him in. he starts off slow, thrusting one finger inside you. your best friend picks up the pace as his tongue moves, your pussy a drenched mess. the tip of his tongue swirls on your clit and you’re convinced he’s spelling out something, but you’re teetering too close to the edge to even bother thinking about it.

a second finger enters you and satoru’s thrusts become more hurried when he sees you panting and shutting your eyes in hopes of prolonging your pleasure. he dives between your folds, tongue frantically licking and slurping.

“come on, baby. cum on my tongue. wanna taste more of you.”

satoru’s words and nose bumping against your clit send you over the edge as you lose control, hips jumping and legs twitching as pleasure overtakes your mind.

his fingers slow down and his licks turn into slow kisses. you shiver as satoru places one last smooch on your clit and takes his fingers out of your clenching hole.

he’s quick to bring those same fingers up to his mouth and run his tongue slowly up his digits. then he takes both of his fingers inside his mouth, sucking like he’s tasting nectar, and proves a point as he takes them out with a loud squelching sound.

the sight is so erotic, you don’t even register the fact that you’ve squeezed your thighs together, grinding against the sheets desperately, half-lidded and incredibly horny.

“baby, you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.” satoru speaks, moving his lips across your body, down your navel, on your chest, between your thighs - anywhere he can find. he was taking his time with you, cherishing every second in which your spectacular body was finally splayed out on display - all for him to enjoy.

he grabs your wrists and places a kiss on both of your palms before leaning down and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss once again. his tongue moves across yours as you become an open-mouthed slobbering mess, saliva spilling out from the corners of your mouth, running down your tongues and falling on your chest. 

you moan inside his mouth, nails sinking in his back. satoru hisses at the pain and shuts his eyes and you take advantage of the moment, placing one last sweet kiss near the corner of his mouth before whispering.

“wan’ your cock inside, toru.” you’re long gone, completely having forgone the one and only goal you had for tonight - leave this friendship in the past.

satoru was living for this. finally hearing you speak up, whisper absolute filth in the tiny space between your mouths - god had finally smiled down on him. perhaps hell was not close. 

“think you’re ready, hm?” he asks, moving your hair out of your face as he places a strand behind your ear. you nod, staring into his eyes full of love.

“anything for my baby. i’ll go slow, yeah?”

satoru discards his pants and you just now notice he had been completely clothed the whole time. the thought of you naked and writhing in his arms as he pleasures you, clothes on and all, makes your arousal practically gush out of you.

he finally takes his boxers off and all that can be heard is the loud gulp which comes from your throat.

he’s huge. sure, he’s always been a fit guy but you had never really paid attention to that or thought about the fact that he might be… well, to put it this way, gifted.

you stare up at the man as he hovers over you, watching the flame in your eyes suddenly die out. how were you supposed to fit all of him inside you?

satoru’s hands run down your thighs in attempts to soothe you.

“baby, with the way you’re staring at me, i’m the one starting to get scared.” he speaks.

“satoru, you’re huge.”

he’s baffled by your confession. of course, he was aware of the fact. many women had told him so, but they were ones who were chasing a certain porn fantasy. it enticed them and he didn’t mind their compliments. but as he stares down at his cock, the action almost humorous, he realises that there’s a chance you’ll decide he’s just too big and back out.

that thought doesn’t bother him as much as his next one does - what if he hurts you?

he shuts his mind off and is brought back to earth by the sight of your naked body below him.

he’ll fit just fine. he’ll make sure of that.

“nothing to worry about. i’ll make you feel really good, yeah?”

and without you having to ask him, he grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, hoping to bring you a sense of comfort.

he slaps his tip against your clit to tease you and you squirm, pussy clenching around nothing.  

satoru lets out a small chuckle and begins pushing his tip inside, carefully moving through the first ring of resistance as your pussy clenches down on him. he has to bite down on his tongue. you were so goddamn tight, it was borderline painful. all he wanted was to break you in, spread you and mold your walls into the shape of his cock. but he couldn’t break his promise, not when his sweet girl was whining below him, writhing and whimpering at every prod and poke. 

“fuck, you’ve gotta relax, baby. you’re squeezing me so tight.” satoru says with a breathless chuckle as he tries his best to sink another inch inside you. 

“just a little more… biiig stretch. there we go.” your best friend mumbles softly as he bottoms out.

your pitiful moans fill his ears and he feels his heart sink. it takes all of his self-restraint not to pull out of you and just gather you in his arms so the pain could go away. but he knew that the best was yet to come. and the only better way to express his love for you was right here - you just had to push through the pain so he could show you heaven.

“i know, sweetheart, i know.” satoru shushes as his fingers move in gentle strokes all across your body in attempts to calm you down. your moans and aches slowly turn into whines for more as you get accustomed to his size.

“want me to move now, baby?” he asks as gently as he can, his voice barely a whisper. his fingers reach down between the two of you to rub your clit and you squeeze down on his cock at the feeling of his thumb rolling circles on your nub. 

satoru lets out a quiet laugh as you nod at him again.

he begins by slowly pulling out and sliding his cock inside you. you’re wet, dripping down the sheets as you try your best to get accustomed to satoru’s size. 

his moves turn into slow thrusts, controlled and not too harsh. satoru’s fingers reach down again and he helps you relax with a tease to your clit, distracting you from the fact that he’s picking up the pace, too lost in you.

your hand squeezes his as you look down and notice your tummy bulge whenever satoru thrusts deeper.

your moans get louder and your pussy clenches down on him at the sight. you’re whining incoherently, begging for more as your head falls back on the pillow.

“theeere we go, there’s my girl. feels good, yeah?”

“mmph” was all you could mumble out as satoru’s cock thrusted inside your hole, pleasure overtaking you for the first time in your life. his arms cage you in as he pants above your body. suddenly, he grabs a hold of your legs and props them up around his waist. you let out a loud moan at the change of positions, this new angle allowing him to reach even deeper inside you. 

“‘m close, toru. so close.” you whine out.

“let go for me, doll. i’m right here. toru’s right here.”

your release crashes over you in waves as you convulse, writhing and squeezing satoru’s cock.

“fuck. i’m coming.”

“inside. please.” is all you manage to say. and satoru doesn’t wait for you to tell him twice. his own release comes soon after and you bask in the feeling of his cum filling your warm hole. 

your pussy is still fluttering around his cock as satoru leans down to place a few kisses on your chest and finally meet your lips. 

the kiss isn’t hurried, it’s sweeter than ever and makes your pussy clench down on his cock again.

“greedy,” satoru chuckles and slowly pulls out of you as your cum mixes with his and drips down your fluttering hole. you whine at the feeling of emptiness. “but i think that’s enough for tonight, baby.”

satoru kneels down between your legs and spreads them again to watch your juices drip out of your pussy. 

before you can protest, his tongue laps up the remnants of your shared orgasm and you’re quick to shut your legs.

“you’re a pervert. and a tease.” you scoff at him in disbelief.

satoru envelops you in his arms and places a kiss on your head. 

“let’s clean you up, baby.” his words are the last ones you register before you doze off soon after.

satoru takes care of you, bathing you and dressing you in one of his sweatshirts, opting to also give you his boxers rather than having you sleep bare (he wouldn’t be able to resist you.).

it’s pretty late now and you’re sleeping soundly in satoru’s arms who's enjoying your mere presence, when you suddenly get a notification. he takes a quick look at your screen that has lit up.

shoko: why aren’t you answering?                     1:17 AM

don’t tell me that asshole came over again        1:17 AM

giving me the creeps again from miles away      1:18 AM

with you still in his arms, gojo grabs your phone from the nightstand as carefully as he can without disturbing your peacefully sleeping figure. his fingers move across the screen rapidly as he scoffs at the texts.

you: no                                                               1:21 AM

i’m in his bed this time                                        1:22 AM

*photo attachment*                                             1:22 AM

and with a final photo of your head laying on his bare chest sent to your friend, gojo shuts your phone off and also dozes off, holding you as tight as ever, convinced that this way, you won’t try to run away from him again.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[b3ach-bunn7]

NONSENSE

You're horrible at technology, and find yourself fliriting with you university's IT customer service.

University!au, noquirk!au, fluff

(side note i love shinsou hitoshi)

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

You’re sure your stupid shitty laptop could break world records with how useless and slow it is.

You don’t think you’re much better. You study veterinary medicine so you can name every bone in a cat's ass but it would take you ten years to figure out how to send a Word document to somebody. The only up to being so horrible at technology, is your university has an IT customer service. 

It’s weird and you don’t really understand how it works, but according to the front page, you can call anytime from 10am to 3am. With the clock ticking minutes before your submission date, and with an essay due tomorrow, you decide it will be less embarrassing to confess you have no idea how to work the university’s submission system, than not submit at all. You dial the number quickly, biting your thumbnail as it rings a couple times before it picks up. The person on the other line barely said their hellos before you started rambling.

“Okay, I know this is really stupid, but I cannot figure out how to attach my submission to this stupid fucking- I mean, this stupid system. And I have like, twenty minutes before my submission date, so I’d really appreciate any help you can give me.”

“Why would you leave your submission so last minute?” 

You frown. You’re unaware that customer support could be so sassy. And also attractive. At least his voice is. It’s smooth and soft, and you press your phone closer to your ear to hear him better. 

“Uhm. I don’t need the sass, thank you, I need the help.” You drawl, clicking at your laptop aggressively.

There’s a little chuckle of amusement on the other end of the line. “Apologies, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“Would you prefer sir?”

Your face twists in annoyance. “I’d prefer you to help me.”

“Alright, alright. Okay, so enter the module the work is for, scroll to the bottom.” He pauses slightly so you can follow his instructions.

“Okay.”

“Then click the three dots on the top left. Where it says enter, click that and select your file, then submit.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t the button say submit. Instead of fucking enter.” You grumble, quickly attaching your work and handing it in.

“Not sure. I’ll let the university know.” He says, faux sympathy coating his voice.

“That’d be nice.” You glanced at your phone. You’re not sure what exactly happens now.

“So. Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“Do I just. Hang up? Now that you’ve helped me?”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again. “Unless you wanna keep me company for the rest of my shift?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You hang up, trying to ignore the small smile on your own face as you do it. You don't have to miss him for long though, because you find yourself calling them back only a few days later after the wifi in your room refuses to work. 

You turn it off, then on. You carry your laptop all around your flat and hold it up to the ceiling knowing it won’t make a single difference. You ask your roommate and she is having no issue. It’s only when you’re about two seconds from snapping your laptop in half before you realise you’re not even connected. And after you find out your roommate is fine once more, you find yourself scrolling through your call history to find the IT number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?”

 You gape. “It’s you again!”

“Hey, it’s submission girl.” He grins. “You forget it’s called enter again?”

You roll your eyes. “Ha ha. I’m not calling for your horrible comedy, I'm calling because my WiFi isn’t working. You can help me with that, right?”

He groans into the phone. “Do I have to?”

“Yes you have to. It’s your job, IT guy.”

“I suppose. Since you asked me so nicely.”

You sit up in your bed. “Okay. What should I do?”

“Are you sure it’s not just the WiFi being shitty?” He asks.

You hum questionably. “No, I don’t think so. I asked my roommate and she said that hers is fine. And it’s also saying disconnected.”

You pause for a minute. “Wait, how do you know the WiFi is shitty?”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m a student too, idiot. I have to deal with shitty wifi as well.”

“Oh.”

You’re not shocked per say. He certainly doesn’t sound like a middle aged man you’d imagine working in IT. It’s nice to confirm though. And the fact that he is probably around your age means you can keep finding his voice hot.

“What, do I sound that old?”

Definitely not. “Yeah.”

“Shut up. You sound worse.” He mumbles and you tut. 

“Horrible customer service. I’m filing a complaint.”

A small laugh is heard from the other line. “I’d rather you didn’t. Rent is not cheap here.”

You lay back on your bed, dragging your laptop up on your knees. “You live in the student dorms?”

“Well, duh. I am a student, after all.” 

You roll your eyes. “What year are you?” “Second.”

“Hey, me too! How old are you?” “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

He replies that he’s nineteen, just like you. You wonder if you’ve seen him around before. Maybe he’s even in the same course as you. You could ask for his name, but you think that might be a little weird. That, and you sort of love the mystery around the man. Who knew being so useless at technology would lead to such great things?

Your laptop flickers off, and it’s only then you remember that you called him for a reason. You tap the keyboard and it lights back up, and your anger flares up once more. You huff, and IT guy seems to remember why you called too.

“Right, your wifi. You said it’s working for your roommate?” He asks.

“Yeah. And it’s working on my phone, it’s just my laptop.”

He hums, and you can hear the faint sound of clicking on the other line. “What building are you in?” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

You smile. “I’m in 4A.”

He takes another few seconds, and you lean your head back on your bed as you wait for him to say something. 

“Alright. Your password should be, ‘uab4a’. You wanna try type that in?”

You groan, sitting up again. “I have, like six hundred times. But okay.” You huff, doing it once more.

Nothing. You sigh, defeated. All you want to do is watch some Netflix. 

It takes about five tries before IT guy finally starts to get stressed out with you. He tells you to click different things, turn your laptop on and off, restart it. You follow all his instructions to no avail, and you shake your head.

“You know what, maybe I’ll just watch Netflix on my phone.” You sigh, said phone now on speaker and thrown on your bedsheets.

IT guy tuts. “None of that talk. I just don’t understand. We’ve tried literally everything. The only way I-”

Suddenly the other line goes quiet. You grab your phone to check he didn’t hang up and you see that it’s now been 18 minutes of you two on the phone together. 

“Why have you gone all quiet?”

“Is your caps lock on?”

You bark a laugh. “Right. Like I’m that stupid to-”

You look down. The little light next to your capslock button is flashing, and your face heats red and IT guy starts cackling down the other line. You write the password once more, in lower case this time, and you let your face fall in your hands at the sign of four wifi bars flashing back at you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble, and IT guy just keeps laughing.

“Oh- Oh my god, you idiot.”

“Shut up! I dont- How did I not realise?” You cry, slamming your laptop shut.

IT guy takes a deep breath. “I really don’t know.”

You shake your head, putting the phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You mumble.

“Aw, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I think you’re the only person that calls this line, anyway.”

You decide to ignore the nickname, and the tingle it leaves in your gut, and nod. “Good, then. I’m keeping your job for you.”

“So kind. Alright, go watch your show.”

“Night, IT guy.”

“Goodnight.”

Over the next two weeks, you end up calling a handful of times. Your password needs resetting, you accidentally deleted a file. Each inane task ends up with the two of you sitting on the phone for ages afterwards. You learn that he’s an insomniac, and that’s why he always works the night shift. He also lives in building 5B, which is about a ten minute walk from your place. The fact he’s so close, that you could go see him right now, taunts you in the back of your mind everyday. The fact that he was in your university, that he could be your classmate or someone walking around campus. 

But, like all things, your horrible internet habits mellow out. After a few days of no problems, you find yourself missing him. You’ve only spoken a handful of times, but he’s funny. He’s sarcastic and a little mean, but in a good way, a way that makes you a little giddy. And of course, now that you want issues, it’s so much harder for you to find some.

Over wine poured in mugs and reruns of you confess to your roommate your situation. She’s a little skeptical of the lack of identity, but she thinks you should just call him again. It couldn’t hurt, right? Worse case scenario, you hang up and the two of you never have to speak again. But best case scenario, you can have a conversation that’s actually about something meaningful. And you can get called sweetheart again.

It takes another two days for you to build up the courage, despite your friend’s support. You wait until it’s late, remembering that he told you he works the night shift, and anxiously dial the number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?” His voice sounds bored, automated, but you recognise it immediately.

“Hey, IT guy.” 

You hear a shuffle on the other end. “Hey, it’s my favourite customer.”

“It’s me.” You say nervously.

“So, what is it today? WiFi on the fritz again?” He teases. 

It takes a second for the words to get out. “Uh, no, I. I actually don’t need help with anything today.”

“Okay. So what’s the call for?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Silence. Oh god. You immediately cringe, and you are never listening to your roommate again, because she’s always wrong and stupid.

“Really?” He says quietly.

You swallow. “Really really. Don’t sound too excited.” You joke and he laughs.

“Trust me, I am. I wanted to talk to you again too, but I had no way to. The numbers on our end don’t get saved after every call, so. I was waiting for you.”

You perk up at his words. “Really?” “Really really. I also couldn't ask around. I doubt you go by submission girl in your everyday.”

You walk into your room, hopping into bed. You lay down on your stomach, and place your phone in front of you, resting your face on your arms.

“No, not particularly. Wouldn’t it be weird, though? If we actually knew each other in person this whole time and we never knew?” “Nah, I doubt it. Think I’d remember a pretty voice like yours.”

Your face flushes. “Shut up. ” You say, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool you down.

He snorts a laugh. “What do you study?”

“Veterinary medicine.”

“Wait, that’s sick. Do you get to see cats?”

You grin. “Yes! I volunteered at a shelter last summer, they were so cute.” 

He hums. “I love cats. I have one, you know.”

You eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Here? On campus? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Nobody knows about her. We won’t get caught/ She's a good girl, she isn't loud or anything. And my roommate in under sworn secrecy.” He says.

Good girl. There's no way he isn’t talking like that on purpose. You nod your head even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, and what if she came to live with me?” You ponder, and he scoffs.

“I’m not co-parenting my cat with you.”

You’re lucky enough that your room faces the setting sun and now, a soft orange glow covers your room. It’s just cold enough that you’re wearing a hoodie and your fluffiest socks, but your window is still open to freshen the air. There’s a vanilla scented candle on its last life on your bedside table, and you prop your phone up against it and lean back in your bed.

“I could report you, you know. They’ll kick you out the uni.”

IT guy pouts. “You don’t want that to happen. Then you’ll never see how beautiful I am in real life.”

You snort a laugh. “Well, what do you look like? So I know what to avoid on campus.”

He hums thoughtfully for a moment. You yourself have spent countless minutes wondering. Is he tall? Short? Blonde, or brunette, or maybe he’s bald. You have no idea. 

“Well. I’m like, 6’1.”

“Yum.”

“Shut up.” He chides, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “And I have like. Kind of long hair. And I always look sleep-deprived, 24/7.”

“Night shifts will do that to you. What colours your hair?”

“Hm. No.”

You protest. “What do you mean no?”

“It’s a dead giveaway! I want to keep some of my mystery.”

He asks you what you look like. You give him the same cryptic descriptions he gave you. 

“Wow. I can find you easily now.” He drawls and you grin.

“No matter. We’ll meet one day.” You say.

The two of you end up staying on the phone for hours. It’s unfair how easily you find things to talk about. He tells you about his course, Psychology, and you listen as he rambles in your ear about studies and experiments. As it gets later his voice gets deeper, lacing deliciously with sleep as his voice rumbles in your ears. The time wears on and your eyes start to blink heavily. You look at the time and it’s been three hours.  Unfortunately, you are not like IT guy, and not only do you have classes tomorrow, but you need sleep to function. 

You yawn heavily. “Look, I hate to be a buzzkill but I gotta sleep. I’ve got a ten am tomorrow.” 

“Boring. But fine. I’ll, uh. Talk to you later.”

You nod sleepily. “Night.”

You reach your phone over to hang up but IT guy’s voice rings out, scratchy through the speaker.

“Wait! I- Can I give you my number?”

That’s enough to wake you up.

You sit up on one elbow, rubbing at your eyes. “Your what?”

“Phone number? It’s those numbers you dial in when you wanna call me.”

“It’s too late for sarcasm.” You scowl.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just I’d like to have a way to communicate with you. And call you. And text, or whatever.”

You smile slightly. “Okay. Yeah, of course you can.”

He reads out his number and you jot it down. He hangs up soon after and you send him a quick text.

September 17th 

01:20 am

You: goodnight IT guy 😁

IT guy: Goodnight  💜

Life gets much easier with his phone number. Now you can text him during your lectures, during the walk to and from your work. He calls you during his shifts and you keep him company for as long as you can before you fall asleep. Which you have embarrassingly done a few times.

He sends you pictures of his cat. A cute black one called Pesto. You ask for the meaning behind that and he said he was eating pesto pasta when he got her. There’s one picture where you can see his hands in the corner, fingers long and slender and you have to stop looking before your thoughts take a dangerous turn.

Theres a time, maybe a week in, that things between you shift. The playful flirting is upped, and the conversations between you become more meaningful. You start anxiously awaiting a text back, face flushing at the stuff he says sometimes. Maybe it isn’t the smartest idea to fall for a guy who you don’t really know, but you don't care.

He knows Denki, for one. You’d mentioned the name and he’d perked up. Denki was an energetic guy you met at a house party once. And if IT guy is friends with him then that's more than enough confirmation for you that he isn’t a freak.

You tell him more about what you look like. You haven’t sent a picture, but you think he might know enough to catch you on campus. He still hasn’t told you much else, and he confesses to you one night that he’s nervous about it.

IT guy: I don’t wanna be a buzz kill but I’m scared ur gonna be disappointed

You: literlaly shut up

You: idc if u look like a troll

IT guy: right

You: or an ogre

IT guy: is this supposed to make me feel better

You: YES

You: look what im trying to say that i genuinely don’t care because i like u regardless of all that

You: ur smart and ur funny and ur mean but ina good way

You: and u hace a cute cat called pesto

IT guy: so ur using me for my cat?

You: duh..

It’s been two days since that conversation, and IT guy has been much more active ever since. You’d like to think you’ve given him a little boost of confidence, but you don’t care why it’s happening. You’re just happy that it is. 

You wish you could reply to whatever he’s sent you right now, but your boss might fire you if he catches you on your phone again.

You like the coffee shop you work at. It’s a quaint little hippy spot that’s a ten minute walk from your place. The pay is good enough, and you like your coworkers. Specifically Tokoyami. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he lets you chatter away to him every time you’re on shift together, and he always has good music recommendations for you.

Today, it’s the both of you on shift. You’re wiping down the coffee machines in the back and you can see him talking to someone at the counter. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s rare you see him talking so animatedly. So you try to get a closer look. And wow.

You don’t know who he’s talking to but you’d like to. His hair is purple. That’s the first thing you notice. It’s a lavender and it looks so soft and fluffy you want to reach out and touch it. His eyes are a deep brown, and there’s heavy bags under them, but they somehow make him look even more beautiful. He’s got a lazy smirk on his face as he says something to Tokoyami and you’re itching to reach forward and eavesdrop. But you can’t. You’re on cleaning duty. Of course you are when a cute guy comes in.

You feel a pang of guilt suddenly, when you remember IT guy. You don’t think you should be thinking about any other guys. Even really cute ones. You get your head down and keep wiping. It’s only a moment later when you hear a crash and your head shoots up. Something happened out in the shop, and a moment later Tokoyami pops his head in the kitchen.

“Someone spilled some shit on the floor. Can you take Shinsou?” 

Shinsou. Tokoyamis told you about him before. A friend from university, or something like that.

“The purple haired guy?”

“Yep.”

“Gosh, the famous friend I’ve heard so much about. You never mentioned he’s so cute.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sorry but. He’s got a little girlfriend texting thing going on.”

You tell him you were only joking and he just pushes you out to the front. You peek a look at Shinsou and he’s looking off into the distance. Deliciously so.

You check his order and it’s just a black coffee. Simple enough. You make quick work of the drink, humming something under your breath as the machine whirls to life. You write his name on the cup in sharpie, and fill it up, pressing the lid and slipping on a cover so he doesn’t burn his hands.

You walk up to the counter. “Hiya. You’re Shinsou? Tokoyami’s friend? He’s mentioned you before. All good things.” You smile as you slide the drink over.

And Shinsou looks back at you like you’ve got two heads. Or like you’re the most shocking thing he’s ever seen in your life. You step back a bit, slightly nervous at the shocked expression on his face.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, your smile falling a little.

“No. I mean yes! It’s-“ 

And it’s as he’s stuttering through his words you hear it. That voice. That same deep, smooth voice you’ve been flirting with over the phone. And you’re sure your face now looks like Shinsou is the most shocking thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Your face heats up and he doesn’t look shocked for much longer because that same unfairly attractive smirk graces his face.

He leans forward slightly. “Is this submission girl in the flesh?”

“Oh my god. IT guy?” 

His smirk widens into a grin. “I go by Shinsou, but. You can call me that too.” 

You roll your eyes to the side but you can’t help but keep them on him, an incredulous look on your face. “You were worried for us to meet? You’re fucking hot.” You say.

And he looks even better when the tops of his cheeks dust the slightest red. You smile, leaning forward on the counter. 

“Thank you. And you’re beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Even in my gross work apron?”

“Especially in your gross apron, sweetheart.” 

You feel like giggling like you’re fourteen with a crush again. You brush a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re not working tonight, right?” You ask.

He shakes his head and purple locks of hair dance around his face. Slender fingers grab the cup and take a sip. 

“Perfect. We’re going out.”

Shinsou tilts his head to the side. “Shouldn’t I be asking you out? Seems much more traditional that way.”

“We met on our uni's customer service number. I don’t think anything about this is traditional.”

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

guys i LAAAAUUUVVVVV shinsou and like he does not get enough attention or love or fics....... it makes me wanna scream

also this nearly took a steamy turn... with that cellular device.... but i did not because i cba

also i noticed that jason todd fics do so wel compared to my other stuff?? maybe cause hes not as popular but i will keep that in mind my people.

i hope u all enjoyed this! <3

[waywardwhispersblaze]

I'll be forever mad that Jayce ruined the moment right there, but not because I think this would've been a perfect ending for them (I don't). I'm mad because if Jayce had just waited five fucking minutes, the resulting scene would've been so juicy.

Look at the way Vi and Cait look at each other here:

Caitlyn: shocked, betrayed, hurt

Vi just looks sad:

We know from their dialogue in ep 8 that while Vi and Caitlyn were making the plan to distract Ambessa, Vi had another one, to bring in Jinx as a contingency in case Caitlyn couldn't be trusted or failed. She had to know Caitlyn wouldn't take it well once she found out. Vi's priority n°1 was saving Vander though, and they likely didn't have much time to think this through. Basically, she had to know that from Caitlyn's POV, it would look like "Vi chooses Jinx over Cait", edition number 2.

And she was likely right! We know Caitlyn lets go of her anger towards Jinx in the next episode, and accepts that Vi has the right to choose her family, but in my opinion, she wasn't there yet in ep 6. Having a broken Jinx locked up in a cell (her single goal for the last few months) while Vi was lying unconscious on her bed for days very likely helped Caitlyn reassess her priorities in life. But here in this scene she literally doesn't have time to think!

Let's look at Caitlyn a bit more here. During their reunion, She probably expected Vi to hate her guts, but instead, Vi looks grumpy, calls her a mongoose and a cupcake in two sentences, and drops the "my dad needs help" bomb after hesitating for a hot, single second. Moments after that, Caitlyn reevaluates her life choices and decides to make a big career change. Plenty of great posts have already been made about Caitlyn's motivations there, but to sum it up, I'd say it was a combination of: her being already wary of Ambessa and not wanting to let a Noxian warlord get her hands on a dangerous weapon / innocent man, being tired of hating herself, and, yes, her feelings for Vi coming back to her in full force.

For a few, glorious moments, she was working with Vi again! Probably feeling more like herself than she had in months. Maybe she started to hope they could reconcile after all. Maybe, she hoped it could be a "do over" for their failed mission with the strike team, where she'd be helping a member of Vi's family, instead of being torn apart by one of them.

... only to find that Vi didn't actually trust her (which was deserved, but still, ouch), and to come face to face with the source of her seething hatred, the single object of her obsession in the last few months. Right after being saved by said source of seething hatred. It's a lot to take in. She had to be simultaneously disappointed and shocked

So, what was she gonna do? There was probably nothing Vi could have said that wouldn't have pissed Caitlyn off right then (no, Vi, saying "she's changed" probably wouldn't have helped), Jinx opening her mouth would have likely made it worse, but at the same time they still had to run away asap. Caitlyn had already betrayed Ambessa, she couldn't go back. Vi pretty much put her in a position where she'd have no choice but to follow along, no matter how angry she was, at least for a little while...

and I made this post just to say, that the resulting bickering would have been hilarious to see :S

(forget about Jayce waiting five minutes, though, what if it they had an hour? what would Caitlyn had done once they were far enough from the Noxian army? point her gun at Jinx? attempt an arrest? (right in front of Vander? gulp) she might have simply ended up separating from them, and that would have been heartbreaking enough, but a completely different story)

((and that's assuming cult member!vander would have just agreed to leave the commune without acting weird))

[atangledfate]

It was probably wise to let Blaze do the talking and negotiations. She was a Royal and had probably taken classes or had some training and experience that they just didn't have. Lanolin was doing great but he had seen enough to know she wasn't great when she got frustrated or angry. They needed someone like Blaze who could keep a level head when she had to.

" I agree with Blaze on this... She should do the talking, none of us are diplomats or negotiators by trade. She's probably the most qualified of us... and right now we need experience..."

He sighed at belle giving her a glance as he somewhat agreed with both her and Kit.

" Well i like to think he was being kind in giving us an hour. But... it was also probably to stress us out. Make us worry, panic, and see how we'd react to the situation... but, i do agree with Belle. Until he proves he's a threat... we should assume he's on the up and up... but that said--- we should take everything he says with a grain of salt..."

Miles scratched his own Chin as Rowan was probably right but he had a better question. What was GUN really after? What as there end goal? This had to have some bigger picture right? Why risk ruining GUNs reputation? There was something missing and he just didn't know what it was yet.

" I'm tellin' ya right now...the guy stinks! everything about this feels wrong... my gut tells me they are up to no good! an a good PI always follows there GUT! "

===============================================

She laughed a little at Surge, though it sounded kind of sad and depressed. She rubbed her own cheek as she thought about herself as normal. She never told any of them about why she was there, why she was fighting so hard or why she refused to back down. They all had there motivations and reasons to fight---hers was probably the worst reason of all.

She just wanted Revenge...

" ... I'm anything but normal... and i should have listened to Whisper. She spotted him near day one and i... blindly defended him. I just thought... i knew better... "

She rubbed her arm and glanced away from Surge not sure how she felt on the matter. But she knew she fucked up, and had to somehow make amends with whisper later.

" I just... get so caught up in trying to be a good leader i forget to listen to my team. I thought i knew better... i thought... i thought i could make us ready so we wouldn't be caught again. I don't want a situation like Eggperial city again... but i walked right into his trap... like a fool...But, i won't make that mistake again...ever again "

" Yea, the Director... Jewel never showed up at the command center and i'm worried about her. She should have been with Vector... but she wasn't there. So i wanna check the infirmary...maybe she got hurt during the landing and is being cared for. She's not a fighter... but Restoration won't run without her... she keeps us running smoothly... you might not realize it but without Jewel everything falls apart...we need her... "

She sighed and held out her hand to Surge

" We should get going...we have less then an hour now... and we still have alot to do..."

"If it came to asking him questions then maybe I should be the one to ask. I have never attempted any form of communication with the leader of Mobius before, though I guess now is as good a time as any." Blaze wasn't even sure where she stood on relations with G.U.N, though beyond the damage Eggman Nega caused her involvement here has never caused any problems.

"Well, he did give us an hour to let us get things in order to some degree. I suppose I simply dislike judging someone without getting to know them." Maybe Belle was playing devils advocate quite a bit right now, though she just liked to be as hopeful as she can be. After all, Thawne was the President so he couldn't do anything too crazy without looking bad. That offered a small amount of leeway.

"That all depends if G.U.N actual needed an hour to set something up which is why he gave it to us and keep our focus elsewhere." Kitsunami was sure that was a stretch, though who knows what G.U.N has up their sleeves. After all, The Restoration has a lot of power houses here right now, and three powerful speedsters as well.

"Eh, anything else would be overkill if you ask me. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if by this point the whole word was watching what's going on. So now they'll have to be careful of what they do just as much as us going forward. If they misstep it'll be a PR nightmare for them." Rowan wouldn't be surprised if there were news vans all over the place by now as G.U.N doesn't move without getting noticed.

===========================================================

"And here I thought you were the normal one out of the group. Guess all our weirdness finally got to you too." Surge still found it hard to believe any of them even liked her, even a little bit. Kitsunami did a way better job at getting along with them than she did, if you didn't count the times he would insult their level of intelligence. Most of that was directed at Tangle.

"Don't go trying to take credit for my fuck up. Mimic would've been found out way sooner if I wasn't covering for his ass when needed. Not to mention I was the one dumb enough to work for someone like Clutch." Surge didn't need Lanolin trying to blame herself when most of this was her fuckup. The only thing she didn't do was cause G.U.N to knock at their fucking door.

"Jewel?" Surge would have to think for a moment before remembering who that was. "Oh, the director chick. Gonna be honest, I never really talked to her. Though the fact she isn't glued to the command center now is weird, right? Maybe I should make a quick run around the base." Surge may not know Jewel well, though knew they were dedicated so even she found it odd they weren't at the command center. The tenrec would grab Lanolin's arm before dashing off at high speeds.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 19

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

A/N: happy reading! comments & thoughts are always appreciated! <3

The morning is quiet as Rafe ventures out onto the balcony, the early chill making goosebumps rise on his skin as she settles down on the couch. The mug of coffee is warm in his hand as he sips, head turned towards the view overlooking the backyard and pool area. The sun is slowly rising as Rafe checks his emails on his phone, responding to anything urgent while saving the others for later. He’s wide awake, having gotten in morning work out and shower in, and has some time to kill before he needs to get ready for work.

He pauses for a moment after finishing checking his emails, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as he goes into his photo album and proceeds to change the lockscreen of his phone. He easily finds one of his favorite photos of Isla; one he took during one of their secret outings as they were walking, her hair tied back and lips a deep maroon, pulled back in a smile that showed off her dimples and made her eyes squint, chin lifted as she grinned at him while tugging on the strap of her bag.

She looks beautiful, adorable, and happy, not a care in the world. Rafe’s chest tightens as he stares at the photo of her—of his girlfriend—before setting it as the lockscreen picture of his phone. Now that their relationship is no longer a secret, he can do it like he had wanted to the second he took that picture. He loves her smile, can’t get enough of it. He’s a little obsessed, but with a girl like her, how can he not be?

“Hey. Good morning.” He looks up, surprised as he hadn’t heard footsteps approaching the sliding doors, and Rafe sits back when Sarah appears, hair slightly disheveled and an oversized sweatshirt, probably John B’s, drowning her frame.

“Hey.” His jaw clenches. He sees Isla’s teary eyed face in his mind, and though he knows Isla said that Sarah had come to her defense, it’s not so easy to forget how broken Isla looked yesterday. “Didn’t know you came home last night.” She spends most of her time at John B’s, and since she’s eighteen now, their dad lets her have her freedom.

Sarah clears her throat, stepping out and slowly moving to the chair opposite of him. “Yeah, everyone was asleep by the time I got in,” she says, sitting down with her hands sliding down the tops of her thighs to rest on her knees. Their gazes meet and Sarah’s shoulders slump slightly. “Isla told you what happened yesterday?” she asks carefully.

Rafe puts his mug down on the table with a slow inhale, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Yeah,” he answers evenly, gaze locking with his sister’s. “She was crying, Sarah.”

He sees her face fall, the regret evident in her brown eyes. Rafe is angry at how her friends found out, pissed that Topper interfered and fucked things up for Isla. He knew she was already so stressed, so anxious about telling her friends about their relationship, and had been waiting for the right time and right way to tell them. But Topper ripped that chance away from her, and she was more or less ambushed by the others. He hates that he wasn’t there for her; Rafe knows, as Isla said, it could have possibly made things worse. It could have had her friends on high alert and refusing to let their guards down if he was present. But at least he could have been there for her when she was being attacked by some of the people she loves the most.

Rafe could tell, just by the look in her eyes, how hurt she was, how upset. Her friends not hearing her out had been a blow. Honestly, Rafe has his friends, but after seeing Isla’s reaction yesterday—and what he knows of the Pogues—he knows that he’s never had the kind of friends that she has in them. It’s always been obvious how tight knit that group is and he can only ever admit it to himself, but Rafe has found himself, at times, being jealous of what they have. He wishes he had those kind of close friends, that kind of loyalty. For all of the shit he’s given the Pogues over the years, their closeness is always something he has admired.

So, to know that he’s the reason why, for Isla, it has gotten rocky—it physically pains him. He hated to see her cry; he’s angry that her friends reacted that way, even if it was expected. He’s desperate for them to be okay with their relationship; not because he wants their approval on his own, but because he knows Isla wants it, and he wants whatever she wants.

A part of him wonders if, if it came down to it, she would leave him to save her friendships. Truthfully, Rafe doesn’t think so—he doesn’t ever want to doubt her. But if she loses her friends because of him, because of his history with the Pogues, especially the guys, how would Rafe be able to live with himself?

“Everyone’s just. . . Shocked, you know?” Sarah says, breaking Rafe out of his thoughts. He blinks and refocuses his gaze on Sarah, who is playing with the blue threaded bracelet on her wrist. Matching to Isla’s yellow. He knows Kiara and Cleo have matching ones, too. “No one saw it coming and—how did it even happen, Rafe?” She shakes her head and Rafe’s throat locks when he realizes his sister looks awed, if anything. “How did. . . When did you start liking her?”

Rafe clenches his jaw, looking out beyond the railing, squinting slightly against the morning sun. His pulse quickens as he debates on his words to Sarah—words he hasn’t confessed to Isla. Not yet, anyway. “I think I always kind of liked her,” he murmurs, absently wringing his fingers together as he feels Sarah’s gaze burn his cheek. “I kept that to myself because I didn’t exactly get along with your friends. But then I’d see her smile and it just. . . Knocks me on my ass every time.” Rafe lets out a quiet, resigned chuckle. It’s the truth, though. Isla is gorgeous in ways that she could bring a king to his knees; her smile, though, is the first thing he noticed about her. Full lips pulled back to show the dimples that frame her mouth, showing off the apples of her cheeks and straight teeth, and the way her eyes squint a bit when she grins big. It’s a breathtaking sight—and one of Rafe’s favorites.

He focuses his gaze on his mug of half drunk coffee. “I knew she was too good for me, too kind. Hell, she still is. But then I saw her at your birthday party a few months ago and something shifted. I saw her hanging out with Wheezie and that was it for me.” Rafe looks at Sarah, who is gaping at him. The corner of his mouth tugs up as he shrugs. “She had me way before she even knew it.”

Sarah stares at him for a few long seconds, no doubt processing his words as she blinks slowly, lips parting. “I—” She stops, shaking her head as a disbelieving breath escapes her. “Wow. I had no idea it was like that for you,” Sarah says quietly, almost sheepishly. Like she’s embarrassed for doubting. Rafe can’t exactly blame her, but it still feels good to prove her otherwise. “Everyone kind of just assumed. . .”

She trails off with a shrug, and Rafe narrows his eyes. “Assumed what?”

Sarah twists her lips to the side, obviously hesitant, and Rafe clenches his jaw as he waits impatiently. “They assumed you were just using her, I guess?” She cringes when she says that, and Rafe knows it’s because his expression has darkened by her words.

“Using her?” he repeats tightly. If he clenched his jaw any more, he’s fairly certain his molars would crack. “What the fuck would I be—”

“It doesn’t make sense to me, either,” Sarah jumps in, in a tone that’s meant to calm him down. 

But Rafe has been pissed off since yesterday, the second he saw tears in his girlfriend’s eyes. He’s fighting the instinctive urge to confront her friends, give them a piece of their mind. He doesn’t give a fuck what they say about him—but they can’t get away with how they had treated her, best friends or not. Hell, as her friends, bringing her to tears was not fucking okay, and the only reason Rafe hasn’t knocked down the door to the Chataeu is because he knows Isla won’t want him to do that.

“They’re just angry and confused,” Sarah continues, tucking a lock of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. “Rafe, you’ve—” She sighs, trying for a helpless sort of smile as Rafe sits quietly, listening with his jaw working. “You all don’t get along, right? And that—that’s an understatement.”

His muscles are tense. “I haven’t done shit—”

“I know. I noticed,” Sarah cuts him off, eyebrows rising. “I think they just have the habit of looping you in with Topper and Kelce.” She winces while Rafe scoffs, leaning back with his arms crossed. “But all of you never got along growing up, either. There’s a lot of history there that can’t be forgotten so easily, you know? Y’all have thrown way too many punches at each other to pretend it never happened. And, trust me, Isla pointed out that they’re not innocent in that, either.” 

Despite himself, he feels the corner of his mouth lift at the mention of his girl defending him. Sarah notices. “Besides, you weren’t too thrilled when John B and I started dating, but you. . . Tolerate him now, right?” she asks, her voice taking a hopeful lilt. Rafe presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and dips his chin slightly in a single nod. “It’ll just take some time for them to come around to this. It’s a shock, right? No one saw it coming.”

“They need to apologize to her,” he says tightly. Rafe doesn’t care if they accept him or not—as long as they’re respectful of his relationship with Isla, and accept that she’s happy with him. “Making her cry is not fucking okay, Sarah.”

His sister nods. “No, I agree,” she says before silence descends, and when Rafe glances at her a second later, he catches her watching him with a look on her face he can’t quite describe. Confused? Thoughtful? He can’t quite make sense of it.

“What?” he asks, sounding more put-out than snappy.

Sarah’s expression softens, her lips pressing together in a knowing smile as she tilts her head slightly. “You really like her, huh?” she asks, her smile widening slightly. “You’re so protective of her.”

“She’s my girl,” Rafe says unabashedly, proudly. “The last thing I want is for anyone or anything to hurt her.”

“Good,” Sarah says with a nod of approval, getting to her feet. Her smile softens, then, more gentle as she looks down at him. “I’m glad she’s got you in her corner. As surprising as this relationship is, I think you guys are good for each other.”

Rafe’s head snaps towards his sister, unable to keep the surprise off his face. When Isla had told him yesterday that Sarah had come to her defense, Rafe had been relieved and glad, for sure. His relationship with Sarah had never not been good; it had just gotten rocky when she first started dating John B and hanging out with his group, simply because of Rafe’s own history with them. But what he had told Isla was true—he sees how good John B is to Sarah, and how happy she is with him. Whatever Rafe’s issues were with them, he can acknowledge the truth when he’s faced with it.

He had hoped the same could have been said for Isla’s friends.

But actually hearing Sarah say that she thinks he and Isla are good together, basically giving her approval. . . It feels better than Rafe would have thought. He’s glad to know that Sarah is on board with this, no matter how surprising. 

When she turns to leave, Rafe watches her back for a second before he blurts, “You and John B are good together, too.” Sarah stills and then glances at him over her shoulder, her eyes slightly widened in surprise. Rafe tries not to shift uncomfortably where he sits; truthfully, he’s only ever been truly vulnerable with Isla, but he wants to get better at it with others. For Isla and for himself; starting with Sarah. He pushes past his awkwardness, his hesitance. “I mean it. I see how happy you are with him. I’m sorry I ever gave you shit for it.”

A few beats of silence pass, Sarah no doubt processing his words, before a breath escapes her upturned lips. “See?” she hums, smiling. “She is good for you.”

*****

The blades of the fan whirr on the ceiling of Isla’s bedroom, and she half hopes the rhythmic spinning will lull her back to sleep. If she strains her ears, she can hear her parents downstairs in the kitchen, but she can’t quite hear her sister, and Isla doesn’t want to. She has no doubt that an argument is going to break out between her and Kie the second they see each other, and Isla doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. She doesn’t want to argue with Kie, and Isla knows that she might just go off on Kie if her sister says anything against Rafe. Which she definitely will.

But, God, Isla just doesn’t want to face Kie, period. Her sister didn’t stick by her, didn’t come to her defense at all. Kie, of all people, was someone Isla thought she could rely on. No matter Kie’s issues with Rafe, Isla had genuinely thought—hoped—that her sister would be on her side when everyone else came crashing down on her. Isla can’t entirely comprehend the pain that flares every time she thinks of Kie not siding with her—which is a lot, since that confrontation at the Chateau. Kie just let the others attack her—let JJ attack her. That isn’t lost on Isla, and she doubts she’ll be forgetting it any time soon.

Her phone beeps, pulling her out of her thoughts, and Isla reaches for it, disconnecting it from the charger and looking at the screen. She smiles at the sight of Rafe’s name.

From: Rafe🤍

Morning, baby. Hope you have a good day at work. Would it be totally fucked up if I visited you at work for lunch?

A breathy chuckle escapes Isla, heart fluttering as she responds.

To: Rafe🤍

hiiiii. it’d be fucked up if you DIDN’T visit me

She doesn’t care that Kie’s working today, too. Doesn’t care that it might just be the shift from hell, working with her sister for a few hours after yesterday’s shitshow. Isla’s not going to let that stop her from seeing her boyfriend whenever she wants.

From: Rafe🤍

Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you around lunch time.

To: Rafe🤍

okay, have a good dayyyy

She lets out a sigh, unable to stop herself from smiling. Texting him, unsurprisingly, lifts Isla’s spirits enough to get her to kick her comforter off and get up from bed. After quickly making her bed, she heads to the bathroom and freshens up, wanting some breakfast before she gets ready for work. Which means venturing down to the kitchen.

As Isla exits her room and heads down the stairs, she silently prays her sister isn’t around, but those prayers were in vain when she sees Kiara in the kitchen with their parents. Anna and Mike are behind the counter, cooking breakfast, and Kie is sitting on the other side on the stool, her back to Isla as she eats. Isla tenses, freezing where she stands in the threshold of the kitchen. She has half a mind to turn and go back up to her room when her dad spots her.

“Hey, honey. Come eat. We made pancakes,” he tells her with an easy going grin, waving the spatula to the counter where the stack of pancakes rests.

From where she stands, Isla sees Kie’s shoulders tense as she sits up and Isla’s throat works as she slowly, reluctantly, wanders further into the kitchen. She warily eyes Kie’s back, approaching the counter and sitting on the stool at the end, keeping some distance as she refuses to look at her sister.

The tension in the room intensifies as Isla places two pancakes on her plate, pouring maple syrup over them before she begins eating as her parents talk amongst themselves by the stove. Isla doesn’t look at Kie as she eats, the clinking of their utensils against the plates ringing with the tension that radiates between them.

Clearing her throat, Isla asks, “Mom, can I get some coffee?”

Anna nods before jerking her chin at Kie. “Kiara, pass the pot to Isla,” she says before turning back to talk to Mike.

The coffee pot is sitting right by Kie’s plate, and when Isla’s gaze slides over, she sees Kie continuing to eat breakfast while scrolling on her phone as if she didn’t hear their mom. Isla stares at Kie for a beat, hoping that her gaze will burn her sister’s cheek, but Kie keeps ignoring her and Isla’s jaw clenches. It’s easier to be angry than hurt as she gets off the stool and storms around Kie .

“Unbelievable,” Isla mutters as she snatches the pot.

As she walks back to her seat, she hears Kie scoff. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Excuse me?” Isla demands, standing by her stool and putting down the pot, arms crossing as she stares Kie down. She’s vaguely aware of their parents’ conversation ceasing to look over at them. “If you have something to say, Kie, then say it.”

“Really?” Kie asks, spinning in the stool until she’s facing Isla. She narrows her eyes challengingly, head tilting. “No, thanks. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Girls—” Their dad tries to cut in, but Isla speaks over to him.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she says to Kie, shrugging her shoulders. “Since you had no problem letting the others talk to me that way and you didn’t say shit to them.”

Kie’s lips purse, nostrils flaring before she lifts her chin. “They were only telling you what you needed to hear,” she says. Then she lets out a short, humorless laugh and adds, “They were being honest with you—something you weren’t.”

Isla’s chest tightens, teeth pressing together to keep her lips from trembling. “I was going to tell you guys, but Topper beat me to—”

“You think this is about whether or not you were gonna tell us?” Kie asks, eyebrows pulling together as she gets to her feet. “It didn’t matter when you told us, or if—” Her glare sharpens and Isla damn near feels the sting of it. “This is about the fact that you’re dating Rafe Cameron.”

Anna lets out a breath. “Kiara—”

“Of all the freaking guys in Kildare,” Kie continues, staring at Isla in disbelief and contempt, “you chose him? Are you seriously that desperate? It’s pathetic—”

“Hey!” Anna exclaims, walking around the kitchen island to stand between the girls, her expression one of disapproval as she stares at Kiara. “That is not okay, young lady.”

But Isla—the air has stilled in her lungs at her sister’s words. Desperate. Pathetic. The hurt pangs through Isla’s chest and she has to stop herself from physically taking a step back. That’s what Kie thinks? 

She thinks Isla is desperate? Isla’s throat locks up, but she swallows it down as Kie responds to their mom, “She’s dating the biggest asshole in Kildare, Mom! She—”

“I don’t care—you do not talk to each other like that,” Anna says with a shake of her head. 

“What the hell is going on?” Mike asks, staring between the three of them in bewilderment. Isla presses her teeth together, knowing that her mom had kept her word and didn’t tell even her dad about her relationship with Rafe.

Isla tries to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, expression going flat to keep the hurt out of her face, her voice. “Rafe and I are dating. Kie and the others disapprove,” she tells her dad flatly. She sees the flash of surprise on her dad’ face before looking back at Kie. “And I don’t care.”

Kie scoffs, eyes flashing as she shakes her head and cuts their gazes. “Yeah, that much is obvious,” she says.

Isla knows she’s getting nowhere with this. There’s no reasoning with Kie when she gets like this, stubborn as an ox and not willing to hear anything else. The tension in the kitchen is heavy, suffocating, and Isla’s appetite disappears in the wake of this useless, aching conversation.

“I’m gonna get ready for work,” she says to no one in particular, turning around.

“You haven’t had your breakfast yet, Isla,” her dad says.

“I’m not hungry,” Isla responds before going up the stairs.

She gets to her room, shuts the door, and cries. Out of anger or sadness, she’s not sure.

Maybe both.

*****

Isla’s shift at work goes by slowly and tortuously. After what happened in the kitchen, Anna gave Isla and Kie sections of the restaurant far away from each other’s, which might be in vain given the restaurant isn’t that big. But Kie is given the outdoor area while Isla’s section is closer to the front of the restaurant. She and her sister kept their distance, doing their job and doing an even better job of ignoring each other. Isla knows their dad is a little frustrated with them, but Anna keeps him from interfering, which Isla is grateful for. The last thing they need is for this situation to get uglier.

Throughout her shift, Isla has done her damndest not to think of Kie’s words from this morning. Desperate. Pathetic. God, Isla knows it’s not true. She knows that Kie’s angry and upset and feels betrayed by Isla’s relationship, but Isla hates that that’s how her sister views her. By Kie’s own standards, if Isla could have dated anyone in Kildare, then there’s a reason why Isla chose Rafe, and she wishes that Kie and the others could fucking understand that.

There’s been an ache in Isla’s chest since yesterday, one she can’t get rid of. A deep, aching hole that isn’t going away, even after she talked to Rafe yesterday. She knows he’s trying to help—that he wants to help—but she’s not sure how he can. Maybe if he talked to her friends, sure. But if they haven’t listened to her, why would they listen to him? And Isla doesn’t want him to feel useless, like he can’t. The last thing she wants is for him to feel helpless in helping her. It’s not his fault and she doesn’t want him thinking otherwise.

As if conjuring him from her thoughts, Isla glances towards the door as soon as it opens, and despite the heaviness in her chest, she smiles as he enters, her first real one since this morning. Their eyes meet immediately when he takes off his sunglasses, hanging them from the neck of his shirt as he grins at her. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets in that familiar way that makes her heart flutter.

“Hi, honey,” she returns, laughing when his grin widens as she runs a customer’s credit card through the reader. “Give me a sec.”

Rafe nods, standing on the opposite side of the counter towards the end. “Take your time,” he says.

Isla quickly rings the customer up, grabbing the two copies of the receipt and clipping them to the credit card before walking around and heading to their table. “Thanks, y’all,” she smiles at the familiar faces as she places the card and receipts on the table. She takes a quick glance around at her section, noting that no one needs immediate attending to, and heads back around the counter and moves to the end towards Rafe. “What can I get for you, Mr. Cameron?” she asks with a grin, bracing her hands on the counter as she flicks her eyebrows up at him.

He scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Uh—” He hesitates, drumming his fingers on the counter top. 

“Don’t say nothing,” Isla warns him, pointing a finger. “It’s lunch time. Eat lunch.”

Rafe chuckles and, gosh, is he blushing? Isla falls for him a little more just then. “BLT and a Coke? Please?”

“Coming right up. You want a table?” she asks, nodding towards one of the empty tables in her section. But there’s also plenty of space at the end of the counter, and he wouldn’t be anyone’s way when Isla or another employee needs to move past. “Or you wanna sit here?” she adds, jerking her chin towards the spot.

Rafe follows her gaze before arching an eyebrow at her. “Can I?”

“Mhm,” Isla hums with a smile, dragging the stool out from the space under the counter and placing it at the end. She grins at Rafe as she tops the vinyl top of the stool and when he sits, she smiles at him. The stool is kind of high, and he’s already tall as hell, so they’re at eye level when they sit. “Let me put your order in.”

She finds her dad in the back and she leans into the kitchen, asking, “Hey, Dad. Can I get a BLT for Rafe, please?”

“He’s here?” he asks with an arched brow, even as he’s already reaching for the ingredients to make the sandwich. “Is that a good idea with Kie out there, too?”

Isla tenses slightly as she rolls her eyes, though she takes a step further into the kitchen. “I don’t care what she thinks.”

Her dad huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I got that this morning. One BLT coming right up.”

Isla comes back out to the front, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of Coke. “You came at a good time,” she says to Rafe, putting the can and a straw in front of him. “You just missed the lunch rush.”

“I did that on purpose,” he says with a small grin, folding his arms on the counter and tilting his chin at her. His smile turns knowing. “Didn’t wanna distract you when it was busy.”

Isla laughs, feeling a bit lighter as her own arms fold on the counter and she leans forward. “You’re so considerate,” she muses, moving towards her.

He meets her halfway and her eyes flutter shut in response to the quick kiss they exchange, feeling any lingering tension melt away from her body at the first touch of his lips against hers. The kiss is brief but sweet and gentle, even as Isla feels the thrill of being able to kiss him publicly. The secret and sneaking around was fun on its own, but this brings a new kind of giddiness that Isla isn’t used to.

She pulls away with a quiet sigh, not quite wanting to open her eyes just yet as she feels his forehead against hers. But the hair at the back of Isla’s neck stand when she feels a prickle of awareness, like someone is watching her. And when she pulls back and opens her eyes, she glances over to see Kie glaring at them as she fills up some glasses from the soda machine on the opposite side of the restaurant. Isla’s jaw clenches at the look of contempt on Kie’s face, appearing as though she’s grossed out by the sight of Isla and Rafe as she scoffs and turns away with a shake of her head.

Isla looks away from her, catching Rafe frowning at Kie before his gaze slides back to Isla. “Did you guys talk more?” he asks, unfolding one arm enough to cover her hand with his.

Desperate. Pathetic. Kie’s earlier words make Isla’s throat lock up as she drops her gaze down to her and Rafe’s hands. His larger one covering hers, the gold family ring on his pinky gleaming under the light. “Kind of,” Isla answers in a mumble. When Rafe arches an eyebrow questioningly, Isla shakes her head with a half smile, gaze casting downwards again. “Nothing worth repeating was said.”

“Hey.” His free hand reaches towards her, fingers lightly grasping her chin to lift her head until their gazes meet. Isla sees the concern swimming in his blue eyes, making her chest tighten as she feels his thumb lightly brush across her chin. “You need me, for anything, you let me know, okay? Don’t carry this on your own. This is about both of us so just—” Rafe lets out a breath, a kind of desperation flashing across his face. “Just lean on me, okay? Please.”

Isla’s throat works when she hears the plea in his voice as it heavies his words. And while part of Isla wants to keep it to herself, to not burden Rafe with what’s been said so far, she also knows it’s not fair to him to keep him in the dark. She’s hurting, and she knows Rafe wants to know because this concerns both of them, in the grand scheme of things.

“I will,” Isla promises with a nod. “Later, though, okay?”

Rafe nods just as Isla hears her dad call out, “Isla, your BLT.”

She pulls away from Rafe, grabbing the plate of food and thanking her dad before placing it in front of Rafe. “Bon appetit. I’ll be right back,” Isla says, squeezing his shoulder as she moves past him to attend to some tables.

She brings water to one table and begins taking the orders for another, and Isla can feel someone’s gaze on her—a weight she recognizes intimately. The smile tugs on the corner of Isla’s mouth before she even looks up and when she does, she sees Rafe watching her with a small smile as he reaches for his drink. Isla’s heart flutters just because of his stare, flicking her eyebrows up playfully and making his smile widen before she focuses her attention back on the customers.

She keeps busy for the next ten minutes or so, avoiding eye contact with Kie whenever her sister comes inside because Isla doesn’t want to see the faces her sister makes whenever she looks towards Rafe. Kie may not like having him here, but every time Isla glances over and looks at him, she can’t help but smile, loving the sight of him there.

By the time Isla gets back around the counter, Rafe is finishing off his lunch. “You’re closing, right?” he asks as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Yup,” Isla answers with a sigh, leaning with one hand against the counter top and the other resting on her jutted out hip. She widens her eyes at Rafe, lips pursing before she adds sarcastically, “Should be a blast.”

She meaningfully nods her head towards the outdoor eating area, and Rafe presses his lips together. “Kie’s closing, too?” he asks and Isla nods, her stomach twisting. Rafe frowns, his gaze looking her over as though he can see her inner turmoil. “You’ll be okay?”

Isla scoffs. “I’ll survive,” she says with a shrug, glancing at the time on her Apple Watch. “You gotta head back?”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, standing up and pulling out his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. “Can I get the bill?”

Isla makes a face, standing straight as she crosses her arms. Rafe stares at her, confused, as Isla lets out a scoff. “It’s on the house, honey.” He’s always paying for her food, buying her things; this is the least she could do.

Rafe’s expression falls flat with a dip of his chin. “No, let me—”

Isla cuts him off by stepping closer to him, their fronts pressing together. She tilts her head up at him as he arches an eyebrow down at her, mirth flickering in those blue eyes as Isla grins with a hand pressed to his chest. “You can pay right here,” she tells him, bringing her free hand up to tap her lips with a finger.

His lips purse in amusement, a subtle tilt of his strong chin as Isla wiggles her eyebrows playfully, trying to stifle her laugh. “You’re somethin’ else,” he murmurs before leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his hand resting on her hip.

Isla smiles against his lips, stomach fluttering when he hums into the kiss. “You love it,” she mumbles in response, making him chuckle lowly.

They break the kiss all too soon. “Very true,” he says with a wink. “Text me later, yeah? If you’re not tired, we could do something.”

Isla nods, biting her smiling bottom lip as he steps away. “I will,” she says.

He leaves after saying goodbye, and Isla lets out a long breath before getting back to work. The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, serving familiar faces and then some. She and Kie manage to avoid each other for the remainder of their shift, awkward and tense but in stilted quiet. But Isla should have known that once the last of the customers leave and the doors are locked to the public, it would only be a matter of time until things came to a head once again.

Except it all started by an innocent comment from Isla’s mom. “It was nice to see Rafe,” she says to Isla as she counts the money in one of the registers, while Isla counts the other. When Isla glances up, she knows for a fact sees Kie tense up from where she’s cleaning one of the other tables. “I hope you didn’t make him pay for lunch.”

Isla snorts into a laugh, mentally counting the money as she sorts through the bills. “Of course, I didn’t. I mean, he tried to, but I told him no.”

Anna chuckles, but it’s Kie who scoffs from where she stands. “Yeah, sure, don’t let the filthy rich guy pay for his lunch. It’s how the rich stay rich, you know,” she says, throwing a reproachful look at Isla over her shoulder. “Keep giving them shit for free. It’s only a matter of time until they take advantage of you.”

Isla knows she shouldn’t engage, that Kie is only trying to provoke her. But she’s also sick of all the nasty glares Kie had been sending Rafe during the forty minutes or so he was here, as well as growing sick of the harsh words she keeps spewing without a care. “Can you stop talking like you know him?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. She’s definitely lost where she was counting but she can’t bring herself to care right now. 

“I do know him,” Kie snaps as she fully turns around, features pulled tightly into a glare. “He’s the guy that used to happily get into fights with our friends, remember? He’s the one who gave Pope a black eye and knocked John B off his bike at the last Enduro and got JJ fired from that mechanic job last year—”

“JJ keyed his car, Kie, or are you forgetting that part since you like him?” Isla cuts in, jaw working. The full story is that JJ had that job at one of the mechanic’s over on Figure Eight because the pay was better than working at an auto shop on the Cut, and Rafe had brought in his car right after that last Enduro where he and John B crashed into each other. And Isla can admit, that crash had looked purposeful on Rafe’s part, but no one got hurt—miraculously—and neither of them won that race. And so when Rafe brought his car to get fixed, JJ had done that. But not before keying his car, too. It was an impulsive, idiotic decision on JJ’s part, but that’s also not new.

“And stop making it sound like that the guys aren’t innocent, either. They love to pick fights, too,” Isla says with a lift of her chin. She narrows her eyes, pulse quickening. “You’re so damn quick to judge Rafe, but you don’t know him. People can change—”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Kie scoffs with a roll of her eyes, her tone heavy with sarcasm. From her peripheral vision, Isla can see her mom has stopped working, watching the two of them with worry. “Just ’cause he stopped shitting on us for a couple of months, he’s suddenly a brand new person. Do you seriously believe that?” she demands with her arms crossing over her chest, her expression holding nothing but judgement in the purse of her lips and arch of her eyebrow.

Isla feels like she’s losing her mind. “Yes! Because I spend time with him!” she exclaims, voice raising his frustration. “And you know me, so why the hell would I want to date anyone that I didn’t think was a good person? You think I didn’t think about how you guys would take it, how y’all would feel, when you found out about us?”

Kie’s nostrils flare, not backing down with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “Because you know, deep down, exactly the kind of person he is. You were embarrassed—”

Isla’s temper flares, chest tightening. “Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, Kiara,” she snaps, noting the way her sister’s eyes widen slightly.

Anna places a hand on Isla’s arm. “Isla—”

But Isla shrugs it off, walking around the counter until she’s standing in front of it. Kie is still a good ten feet away. “I wasn’t embarrassed to tell you about him,” Isla says, practically gritting the words out through her teeth. “I was anxious because I know you guys wouldn’t want to see the truth that people can change. You’ve all built some narrative in your head that he’s some kind of villain, when I know for a fact that he’s not. I was nervous because I know it’s hard for y’all to let shit go, and you would hold the past against him when he’s proven to me that he’s not the same person he was even a year ago.” 

Isla’s chest has grown tight, her breathing a little shallow. She can hear her heart thundering in her ears, drowning out the sound of her dad’s heavy footsteps coming out of the back, no doubt watching this unfold with her mom. “But I had hoped you guys would prove me wrong and would at least hear me out, but that’s the only part I was wrong about, I guess.” She shrugs, unable to fake nonchalance as she clenches her jaw. Kie’s gaze is hard and Isla isn’t sure if she’s putting on a mask or what. She’s too damn tired to even try and figure it out. “You, though,” Isla shakes her head with a hollow laugh, the corner of her mouth curved up in a sardonic smile. “You really surprised me, Kie. I thought at least my own sister would try and defend me. But you just joined the rest of them. Didn’t say a damn thing against JJ when he was going at me.”

Isla swears she sees Kie’s lower lip quiver for a brief moment before her sister says, “You’re the one who chose your relationship with Rafe over your friendship with us.”

Isla’s heart cracks, but she has her response ready on her tongue. Even as tears threaten to fill her eyes. “And you chose your hatred of him over your supposed love for me.”

The blow lands, watching as Kie flinches ever so slightly and Isla doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt for uttering those words—not when she believes them, in this moment. Kie shakes her head slowly. “You don’t get to lie to us and then victimize yourself in all of this.”

Victimize myself? Isla would laugh if she wasn’t so damn hurt. “The only reason I lied was because I didn’t want to have to make a choice,” Isla fires back, eyes narrowing as she tries to keep the hurt from leaking into her voice. “Or do you not remember JJ giving me that shitty ultimatum? Or, oh wait—” Isla feigns a look of surprise, eyes widening. “Do you not care because you made the choice to stick by the guy you like instead of your sister?” Isla scoffs, pulse racing so quickly that it threatens to make her dizzy as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Pretty hypocritical of you, Kie. And real fucking hurtful.” Her voice shakes on those last four words, fingers curling into her palms. “I know you guys felt betrayed, or whatever, but did you think for a second how awful you guys made me feel with all of that shit you said?”

Silence from Kie, and Isla’s throat locks. “I didn’t think so,” she whispers. 

Kiara’s lips part, but she still doesn’t say anything, seemingly at a loss for words. But the fight somehow still remains in her brown eyes, making Isla remain tense. “Okay, girls,” Anna says from behind her in a calming voice. “Let’s just take a breath, okay?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Isla cuts in, her hard gaze fixed on Kie. To her sister, she says, “I like Rafe, a lot. And I love you guys. But you’re not being fair, and if you guys were my friends, I shouldn’t have to beg you to explain anything. You guys weren’t the only ones who didn’t like Rafe. I was right there with you, remember? But obviously shit changed—enough for me to actually date him. Did you even think of that?” When Kie doesn’t say anything, lips pressed together and jaw working to show off that conflicted expression on her face, Isla loosens a rough breath. She blinks a few times as she turns to face her parents, who are watching them with twin expressions of worry. Isla inhales shakily. “I know I’m supposed to help close, but can I just—” She shakes her head. “I need to go.”

Her mom’s expression falls, forehead creasing with worry. Her dad places a hand on Anna’s shoulder while nodding at Isla. “Go ahead, baby. We got it.”

Isla nods in gratitude, offering them a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Anna bends to grab Isla’s purse from under the counter, handing it to her, and Isla mumbles a thank you before exiting the restaurant, not sparing a glance back at Kie. Isla’s not sure if Kie’s going to get a lecture from their parents or comfort, maybe a mix of both, but she doesn’t stick around to find out.

The second she gets in her car, she starts it but doesn’t quite pull out of the lot. Instead, she grips the steering wheel and leans forward, pressing her forehead against it. A rough breath escapes her, eyes squeezing shut as she tries to calm her racing pulse down. Whatever she said, she knows needed to be said. Her sister needs to know the hurt she and the others caused to Isla, and whether or not that’s going to change their stubborn nature, Isla doesn’t know. Deep down, Isla believes that eventually things will work out, that they may even look back and laugh at all of this, but she really fucking wishes that eventually was right now.

She inhales sharply before exhaling slowly, throat working as her grip on the wheel tightens. Isla feels the tears escape with another shuddering breath, sniffling as she sits up and wipes at her cheeks. “Pull yourself together,” she mutters, flipping down the visor and sliding open the mirror to pat and wipe at the area under her eyes to get rid of any mascara that smudged. Swallowing, Isla pulls out her phone and dials the number she already knows by heart. 

It rings twice before Rafe’s deep voice answers. “Hey, baby.”

Isla sighs. “Can I come over?”

[cemetegee]

Does Ianthe Have a (Deadly) Disease? [Theory]

This is a theory which occured to me last night (while I was half asleep), but the more I think about it, the more sense it seems to make! Could Ianthe have a - possibly even deadly - disease? The following post will be a collection of hints my brain collected under the rubric "possibly connected to Ianthe's birth". (While I'm still not sure if all that is connected to her womb situation btw, that's just the collection title.) In this post I will talk about her Mysterious Anaemia, her Weakness (TM), her Knowledge about deadly diseases, her view on the Death, and the reason(s) her parents "risked intervention". So let's go!

The Mysterious Anaemia

The first thing that strikes me as odd in this context is... Ianthe's anaemia. Ianthe canonically has anaemia. Gideon calls her "the anaemic twin" all the time, and (what's of course the more telling hint, since Gideon has actually no clue of medical things) she is really as pale as the dead. Actually, she must have a really severe kind of anaemia, because she is described as having skin the color of "canned butter" and mustard".

(For your rememberance: this is what canned butter and mustard look like:

)

I know, it's easily to forget, and fandom artists almost never show her that way but it IS no exaggeration. White people with severe anaemia really look like that.

And it can't have diet reasons (if she doesn't have some kind of eating disorder). Harrow says that "she couldn't actually be anaemic based on her diet" (Yes, Harrow apparently doesn't know that anaemia can have other causes as well. Maybe because of her lacking knowledge about The Flesh):

Anaemia can actually have two reasons (strongly simplified):

Wrong Diet

It can be the symptom of an other disease

(Next to the obvious thing: blood loss. I actually considered if she could maybe do some permanent necromancy, maybe connected to Corona - but I doubt it, since Harrow could easily look to the Protesilaus thing, and would probably notice it.)

That's a pretty strong hint that she could have some kind of (deadly?) disease.

The Weakness (TM)

The second hint is not only a hint to that Mysterious Disease, but also another proof for the anaemia. It's the corporal weakness Corona explains (and declares to be casual necromancer Weakness):

I know nothing about you, but... To me it sounds (even for a necromancer) oddly "weak". I mean, that's of course only assumption, because we know nothing about specific about necromancer-strenght. (I mean, even Harrow can hold her arms up long enough to paint her face.) And sure, Gideon mocks Harrow all the time for the fact that she can't swing her two-händer... But that's an overmanshigh sword, which is probably even twice as big as Harrow, Ianthe's hair is surely lighter. And it's also an oddly specific (AND therefore probably true) example.

And it's also a symptom of anaemia:

But maybe it's a symptom of the Mysterious Disease as well?

PS: Another interesting thing is that Corona - apparently! - doesn't know about the exact symptoms of anaemia. It could be that she doesn't know about the (suspected!) disease as well.

PPS: As a person who made A WHOLE POST about the possibility of Ianthe having ADHD I should know that she fulfills another symptom of heavy anaemia named decreased attention. (My theory still stands though! Although there may be overlaps of "symptoms", there are still some things about her I can only explain to me with her having ADHD.)

PPPS: Her fucked up sleep rythm is also an indicator for heavy anaemia. (As well as for ADHD btw.)

Knowledge About Deadly Diseases

Another thing which strikes me as odd is her knowledge about deadly diseases. And I'll admit, indeed, at first, it seems as if she'd know nothing more than necromancer gossip.

But Palamedes chronically underestimates her. And a little later, "Dulcinea" mentions a secret of the Seventh House, connected to the "perfect death". She says this:

That could of course be a lie... (Especially since the context she says it in - about how she apparently want to have animated Protesilaus -is definitely not true lol) But it could also be true! Just because Cytherea lies about her identity, it doesn't mean that she lies all the time about everything. (I mean, it IS strange that a whole House would build up its reign on a family of shortliving people with blood cancer, if it does NOT bring any necromantic advantange, isn't it?) What offers the interesting question if Ianthe knows that secret of the "perfect death" as well... (And therefore more than Palamedes here!)

But a topic about which she certainly knows more than Palamedes - or anyone else in the room - is thanergy transfer. And she seems - for some reason - to think that an thanergy transfer of a person as sick as "Dulcinea" was possible. Even after she's been "corrected" by Palamedes before:

Why does she think that? And why has she even knowledge about this case of thanergy transfer? That's an oddly specific and very strange nerd theme - at least for a perfectly healthy person. (And regarding the fact, that she is - unlike Palamedes - NO "medical" necromancer, and therefore doesn't need that knowledge for her "job".) I find the study of such cases to be a very strong hint to her own health.

PS: I don't know how I should put that, it's also obviously no main point, but while we're on Gideon the Ninth: I find it interesting that she never discriminates Cytherea for her disability. I find that interesting, because it IS something you could expect of her. (Since she is not very sensitive with Harrow's mental health in HtN.) And we even have someone who does it: Silas. She does not. I think it wouldn't be so strange if she had a personal relationship to it. (But maybe she's only afraid of Cytherea... I mean, I understand, she is creepy as hell!)

Pain Tolerance

One other thing that makes me think of Ianthe as having some disease is her absurdly high pain tolerance... We see it in the whole second book! For example in the scene where she stabs Harrow's, but also her own hand:

She doesn't even flinch.

And here another example: I mean, obviously she feels pain during the whole arm scene, cutting off an arm, and letting regrow it is apparently a process which is very painful and which even she perceives...

(Although her reactions are of course, uuuum, interpretable. But she feels SOMETHING, okay?) BUT we have an other scene which pretty much implies that she has thought about cutting of her arm herself, and look if it regrows:

(I mean, she takes Harrow serious her. It looks to her like an acceptable option.) My point is, that you need an incredibly high pain tolerance to even CONSIDER that... (To be fair, she hasn't much choice here, but together with the other things I can still see a pattern.)

And that lets me think of something @thanergetic-hyperlinks reminded me of, when I mentioned her pain "resistance" for the first time. PAIN PATIENTS can in fact develop a higher pain tolerance. And... without the context I probably wouldn't think about it, but now I do... could Ianthe be one?

Dying as a Skill Issue

One thing that's actually pretty obvious about Ianthe is (as soon as you've noticed it once) that she... seems to think of dying some kind of Skill Issue. We see it for example in her reception of Abigal's death:

Abigail didn't die because Cytherea murdered her, but because she brought her husband. Because she did something wrong. And Ortus OBVIOUSLY didn't die because he was murdered as well, but because he was too sad.

She leds back dying to a lack of personal qualities. Dying is for suckers.

This idea is... a little bit strange to be honest, and it makes me think... could Ianthe believe that, because she has...a serious problem on the dying side? Because she's facing it, and fears to fail? Is that the reason she wants to become a Lyctor so desperately? (And maybe even some kind of God?)

She was Allowed to Survive

Let's come to the last point! This is about a talk Ianthe and Silas have in Gideon the Ninth. They talk about Ianthe's womb situation, that she'd been about to die, and that her parents risked "intervention". Silas then basically asks why her parents didn't let Corona "kill" her, because that would have made necromantically much more sense than saving her. (Rude, btw)

(Btw, now that I read this scene again I see that there's something super-off with the way Ianthe says that. Either she's lying here or she is hiding something. In any way it seems to be a VERY unconvenient theme for her! It reminds me very much of the Gaslighting scene - only in regard to the vibes.)

And I don't believe for a single second, that her parents did it for her. The Idan monarchs seem to be quite awful people. The main reason why she was allowed to survive is probably that her father wanted a Necromancer Pair as power symbol. The Third is all about show, and they did probably prefer the gleam of two twin necromancers over one more powerful one. (To their luck actuall, because whatever Corona did, it obviously didn't give her the expected powers.)

But I can't help but wonder... if the Mysterious Disease played a role as well? Especially regarding the fact that deadly sick people apparently have a reputation as "the perfect necromancers" among necromancers! Was there any reason to assume, that Ianthe would be especially powerful? Either because of a side effect of her birth situation? And/Or because of... the "promise" of a deadly disease? Why did her parents risk intervention? Silas doesn't seem to think it was a good idea...

Conclusion

Does Ianthe have a (possibly even deadly) disease? I'll be honest... It's possible. There are circumstances which are definitely suspicious, and her desperate wish to become immortal is definitely remarkable. I feel as if we'd miss an important piece. But maybe there is no disease! I wouldn't know, I'm neither a doctor or a biologist! (If you are, please share your thoughts if you have any, I'm genuinly interested) Maybe it all is some necromantic thing that hasn't even to do with our real world at all. And I don't know if it's connected to her birth, although I find a few hints to be there for that as well... To conclude, maybe Ianthe has a deadly disease, it's definitely suspicious, I love her, I love you, thanks for reading, mwah :3

[sissylittlefeather]

Moonlight swim 💕

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 7: Moonlight Swim

A/N: I know I am WAY late on this, but I might just keep writing these until I finish them, even though Christmas is definitely over. Oh well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, stranger sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~2k

And bonus:

You love living in Hawaii. You don't usually love all the people who come from everywhere to make your home their escape. But, tourism is the industry and you end up working in a hotel dealing with tourists all day every day. Most of them drive you crazy, especially the middle-aged men from fly-over states who hit on you shamelessly in front of their wives.

You're locked into just such an interaction with a man from nowhere Nebraska one day when you're rescued by a knight in Hawaiian-print cotton.

“Oh, now, come on sweetheart, how are we s’posed to find a good restaurant if you won't come have a drink with us?” The balding man waggles his eyebrows, obviously hoping for more than just a drink. His wife seems curiously on-board with you joining them as she nods excitedly behind him.

“Thank you, sir, but I really shouldn't. Here is a list of restaurants around the hotel.” You hand him a flyer and try to brush him off since you've never been interested in a threesome, much less with an aging couple who came to Hawaii to let loose after their kids flew the nest.

“Sweetheart, we don't want the tourist treatment. We want to know the real good places–” As he puts his hand on top of yours, you hear another voice.

“Hiya honey! You ‘bout ready to go?” You look up at the new voice in shock. Not only is he a complete stranger talking to you like he's known you his whole life, he might be the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Then it hits you: he's Elvis fucking Presley.

“Umm… I… what?” You stumble over your words and pull your hand away from the first man.

“We're still on for this evening, right? I hope you didn't forget. I made a reservation and everything.” He knits his eyebrows together in false concern and you realize what he's doing.

“Yes! Of course!” You turn back to the bewildered couple. “You'll have to excuse me. My shift just ended and I have a date. Please enjoy any of the restaurants on the list.”

Elvis smiles and waits patiently as you grab your purse from under the desk and walk around to the front side. Luckily, it's 5pm and your shift really did just end. When you get to him, he throws his arm around your waist and kisses your temple, guiding you out of the hotel and away from the gawking couple. He walks you all the way to a car in the parking lot.

“Thank you. I wasn't sure how I was going to get away from those two.” He smiles genially.

“You're welcome, honey. I'm Elvis.”

“Yeah.” You tell him your name and he shakes your hand like he's nobody at all. After a beat of awkwardness, you turn to walk to your own car but he calls after you.

“Hey, listen. I know that was a rescue operation, but I really would like to have dinner with you, if ya want?” Your mouth pops open before you can stop it.

“Wait, really? You wanna have dinner with me?”

“Yeah! I just got here and I don't really know anyone. If you want to?” You try to hide the fact that you're completely caught off guard by the most famous man on the planet asking you to dinner.

“Sure. I mean, yes! I'd love to have dinner with you.” He smiles and you almost faint.

“Okay then. You pick the place.” He opens the car door for you and you slide into the seat as he runs around and gets into the driver’s side. You take him to one of your favorite restaurants, a little hole-in-the-wall place that no one would ever expect, and he loves it. He's surprisingly easy to talk to and before you know it, it's dark. You talk even more and the restaurant owners start to eye you because they need to close.

“This has been really great, but we should get out of here.” You giggle shyly. He nods and you head back to his car. Once you get to the hotel, though, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“I'm not quite ready for bed. You know of somewhere we can go to keep talking?” He looks at you with his eyes so innocent and pleading that you couldn't say no if you wanted to. You wrack your brain for somewhere you could take him that might be private.

“I have an idea.” He smiles and kisses your fingers again. Then, you guide him to the place. When you get there, his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“A beach?” He asks as you get out of the car.

“Why not? Nobody knows about this place. We'll have it to ourselves.” You've come here since you were a kid, so you know it's pretty secluded. You get down to the water and sure enough, it's completely deserted.

“It's pretty.” He comments, coming up behind you and sliding his arms around your waist. You look out at the almost-full moon on the water, the soft sound of waves filling the night air.

“This is my favorite spot on the island.” You whisper, enjoying the feeling of having him wrapped around you.

“I can see why.” The only sound is the water as you stand there for a bit in silence. “Let's go for a swim.”

“I don't have a swimsuit?” He pulls away from you and you notice he has started taking his clothes off.

“Do ya need one?” You look at him standing there with just his linen pants on and shrug.

“No, I suppose I don't.” He smiles as you start to strip too. When you get down to your bra and panties, you realize he still has on his pants. “Hey, now, if I'm in my underwear it's only fair that you are too.”

“I'm not wearin’ any.” He grins. “If I take these pants off you gotta be naked with me.”

Without another thought, you unclasp your bra and drop your panties, taking off for the water before he can get a good look. He laughs and follows you, his pants left behind on the beach. In the water, he finds your waist with his hands and pulls you in close to him.

“I haven't had this much fun in a long time.” He teases your nose with his own.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“No, really. My life is one big set up. This is the most freedom I've experienced in years. Makes a guy wish he could run away.” You look into his eyes and see the vulnerability of truth there. Then, you lean forward and press your lips against his softly. He moans quietly and then kisses you again, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip, begging for access. Opening your mouth, you deepen the kiss and press your body against him. His hands start to roam over your skin, first pulling your hips in tight and then skimming up to your breasts to squeeze them gently. You feel your body respond as he rolls your nipples in his fingers. He kisses down your neck, pulling on your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. The sensation of his lips pressing against your neck elicits a soft whimper from you and the heat between you builds. You feel his hard cock where it presses against your center and moan into his mouth. He starts to carry you towards the beach, the waves lapping at his legs.

“Need to be inside you, doll.” He whispers as he carries you and you nod frantically. When he gets back up to the sand, he moves to his knees, rearranging you so that you're on your knees on top of him. The tip of his dick is pressed against your clit, weeping precum onto you, adding to your own natural wetness. He holds your ass with one hand and uses the other to rub himself in your wet folds. “You want it, baby?”

“So bad… please…”

“Such a good girl, begging for this cock.” His voice is low and sultry in your ear as he teases you. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

“You…”

“More specific.” His breath is hot on your neck and ear and you need him so badly you could scream, your empty pussy clenching around nothing.

“I want your cock inside me.” You feel him smile against your neck as he pushes the tip into you.

“Good girl. I'm gonna give you what you want.” He moves both hands to your ass cheeks and pushes you down, filling you up slowly. You feel yourself stretching around him and your head falls back. “No baby, look at me.”

He lifts your head to look into your eyes as he bottoms out inside you, groaning.

“I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me.” You moan softly and then he begins to pick you up and drop you on his dick. “Like that, princess. Let me fuck you until you can't stand it. I want you to scream my name so loud the moon can hear you.”

You clutch his shoulders, your nails digging into his soft flesh as he continues lifting and dropping you onto his cock. He's the perfect length and shape to brush your g-spot with every thrust and you feel your climax getting closer and closer. Your pussy begins to tighten around him and he groans loudly.

“Gonna… cum… soon…” You whine and he grabs the back of your hair and presses his forehead to yours.

“Good girl. Cum on this dick, princess.” The sweat cuts salty paths on both of your flesh as you feel the edges of your orgasm closing in. His own release is gathered in his balls as he tries desperately to hold on for you to finish first.

“Oh God, Elvis! YES!” You scream into the darkness as you cum deep and hard on him, your pussy squeezing and pulsing around him. He buries his face in your neck and groans loudly. You feel his stomach tense and then he leans his head back and moans out loud. His face is so beautiful in the throes of pleasure, lips parted slightly and eyes closed.

“Fuck yeah, baby!” He whispers, biting his bottom lip as his cock twitches and throbs and spills inside of you. You tremble as he holds your body close and presses soft kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. Eventually, you both come down from your combined high and he lays back on the sand with you on top of him. His hand tangles in the back of your hair as he massages your scalp with one hand and drags his fingertips up and down your arm with the other. You can tell he needs the contact, so you let him touch you however he wants. His chest rumbles under your ear as he starts to hum.

“What's that song?” You ask, your voice light and airy after feeling so satisfied.

“One from the new movie. I don't know the words but the melody is catchy. Might be a hit.” You lay there on the beach together as he hums and strokes you gently.

The next day, the rest of his posse arrives and he spends his time being told what to do and when to do it. He promises to see you again, but he never finds the time. In reality, his manager doesn't like the idea of him with you– you are too much freedom– so he makes sure to keep Elvis away. You catch glimpses of him in passing in the hotel and his eyes always linger just a little too long, like he's trying to apologize. But you know it's not his fault. You don't hold it against him.

And when the movie comes out and you hear Can't Help Falling in Love, your heart skips a little with the memory of laying on the beach, waves crashing softly in the background, as he hummed it to you in the afterglow of the best night of your life.

******

The End

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

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[hellaverse-described]

[ID: A series of screenshots from Hazbin Hotel juxtaposed with teeny tiny tumblr posts. Sorry Vic, lol.

Image 1: Valentino lounges in his private section of a nightclub, wearing zebra-stripe lapels and fishnet stockings. I’m going to neglect to mention the fact that his cursed neck his visible and instead focus on the fact that there’s a bug zapper in one corner and a security camera in another. Val leans over a particularly attractive woman, and purrs to her, with a tumblr post by f4g4um, “hey you kind of set off my prey drive. wanna get out of here? you first”.

Image 2: Angel Dust professorially holds up one index finger and closes his eyes; it’s not quite mansplaining, it’s significantly more generous than that. A post by geekysteven reads: “A common mistake people make when they go to a sex dungeon for the first time is using their healing items and mana up on the mini-sex boss and being left defenseless when they reach the main boss”.

Image 3: Charlie passionately addresses the heavens with yet another stellar idea as she holds Cherri Bomb’s hand: she physically could not be more frustrated by the situation, and Angel very much shares her distaste. A post by akashicrecord reads: “starting a foundation that gives disadvantaged children one wild ass night at the club”.

Image 4: The Vees’ seminar room. The light is low and conspiratorial; Vox has left his chair and begun to brood in front of the frame; and has revealed that while all of the leather chairs lining the table have a cyan V on the back, Vox’s chair is the fanciest, and has an elaborate headrest to support his gamer-ass ego. Present, in some way or another, is Val, although he’s much more engaged with bedazzling Moneyshot than with either the conversation his partners are sharing or his cosmopolitan. A post by bathroomcube reads: “im bore. does anyone want to shoot each other until one of us hits something vital”.

Image 5: Sir Pentious, his confidence wavering but his smile still intact, lets his gaze flicker nervously off to the side as he shivers uncomfortably in the sex club from 106. A post by sapphling reads: “she might be ‘your girl’ but in a matter of minutes I could fumble her so catastrophically as to permanently secure a space in the hallowed halls of her memory. never forget this”.

Image 6: Back to Val cradling two women in his private booth; his expression is uncertain and a little concerned. A post by goatgirlballs, who has one of those fucking quote unquote “mature content” blurred icons, reads “well if its for fucked up and horny reasons, then i guess its okay…”

Image 7: Alastor curls his hand around Charlie’s face. She is deeply, deeply touched by this gesture, and it readily shows on her face; Alastor, bathed in the green and purple lights of his show magic, is visibly sinister, and appears to not mind showing Charlie that at least a proportion of his behaviour is deceptive. She believes him anyway. A post by toesuckingoctober reads: “the world’s first ethical gaslighter has told you all of your failures in life were actually false memories”.

Image 8: Angel seeks respite in another club; his booth has either a protective spiderweb or a rope ladder on a pirate ship, and another bug zapper is still present in the background. Comfortably, he accepts the advances of a sawfish loan shark as he offers him a clearly spiked drink. A post by maykitz reads: “sure, i’ll drink the pink swirly potion that released a little heart shaped cloud when you uncorked it. what’s the worst that could happen”. // End ID.]

accidentally the text boxes are small enough they only look right 'n readable when you click on the picture (so please click on em) but i'm not about to redo all of these

[bellaiggg]

halloween - scaramouche

contains: degradation, mirrors, little bit of praise,unprotected,rough, hand kink, fingering, masturbation.

(side note!!! this was made in 2020-2021, this is one of my old works from wattpad!! please keep in mind the time difference as well as how scaramouche had no backstory at the time and in this he might be ooc)

MODERN AU

warning: may contain bad spelling, bad grammar, and lower case is intended.

word count - 3064

Y/n POV:

Aw yes, Halloween night, where all the young, popular people host parties and everyone you know goes to them. It's where everyone has an excuse to dress provocatively without getting judged. This year Tartaglia is hosting the party, hopefully his dumbass doesn't fuck anything up. Whatever, Signora told me to trust him.

"y/n! get your ass out of the closet, i wanna see how this costume looks on you!" speaking of provocative outfits, signora is making me wear this bunny girl outfit. she thinks it's a good idea for our little group to match as bunny girls but in different colors. ei isn't here yet, but she's purple, signora is dark red and white, and lastly they gave me black. (a/n: you can choose any color but for the sake of this story i'm going to be writing down black, just imagine yourself in a different color :))

NARARATOR POV:

after hearing her front door ring and her friend call for her, y/n steps out her closet.

"signora can you please get the door for me! it's probably ei."

"yeah sure, also bitch you look so good! just top it off with some jewelry and you'll be perfect!" signora exclaims while walking away.

y/n walks to the mirror, putting on some diamond earrings and she walks over to ei and signora.

"ei! you look so good, your purple eyes really pop in this outfit, and i won't forget about you signora, you look absolutely stunning!"

"thanks y/n, you look so hot! anyways, signora who's even going to the party?"

"oh a lot of people, but mainly people in inazuma! i know for a fact kazuha is going to be there and gorou. since kazuha is there, his bestie tomo is also going to be there. now of course all of the girls are coming like ayaka, yoimiya, kokomi, sara, and your favorite ei, yae miko!"

"oh my archons, ayaka is going to be there? i haven't seen her in forever! but signora, do you know if scaramouche is going to be there?"

"of course y/n, you guys better fuck. i bet 200 mora that you guys will fuck. what are your thoughts ei?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UPPPP, you know how much he gets on my nerves. you guys are killing me with all this teasing. he's literally my biggest enemy."

"uhuh, 'enemy' my ass, you got a thing for him. the tension between you guys is insaneeeee!"

ringgggggg ringgggg ringgggggg

"signora answer your fucking phone!" y/n jokes

"okay, 'hello? oh yes you're here already? yes we are ready. okay we will be out in a few. byeee thank you.' it's tartaglia, he's here to pick us up. scaramouche is also in the car so be on your best behavior y/n"

"he is? what a bitch, whatever lets head out."

*inside the car*

"hey girlies, how are ya?" tartaglia says while rolling down his window.

"fuck you're so weird" scaramouche says under his breath. he's not even paying attention to the people entering the car. he was just dragged here by his friend. he's just on his phone, scrolling through tiktok. he doesn't even want to be seen, he thinks it's idiotic how people gather every year to just party and dress up. since tartaglia didn't want to dress up alone, he made scaramouche dress as ghost face while he is dressing up as a vampire.

"heyy tartaglia, we are doing good! thanks for picking us up by the way!" ei exclaims.

y/n pov:

damn he's hot, he may get on my nerves but that doesn't mean he's not attractive.  he has his mask dangling under his face and he's just scrolling through his phone and he didn't even bat an eye at me.  you know what, who the fuck cares, it's halloween night which means i can finally forget about everything and i get to have fun. the scenery is perfect and everything. it's a dark, chilly night. it's foggy and it's going to storm later, hopefully that doesn't fuck anything up though.

"hey tartaglia, how far are we from your house?" i ask, we have been inside this car for at least 20 minutes and we all have been having our separate conversations. tartaglia is making small talk with scaramouche while signora and ei are talking about how fun this party is going to be.

"damn im that boring? im just playing y/n, we will be at my place in 5 minutes. when we get inside would you like a drink or anything? im sure scaramouche would love to get one for you." ugh this bitch teases me too? i have to stop, i already got my plans straight. tonight im not gonna give 2 fucks, i look hot as fuck and all my friends are with me. why not spice it up a bit and spend some time with scara?

"hmm why not? i would like a drink or two, what about you scaramouche?"

"why the fuck not." wow what a nice response.

                                                ~

"wow tartaglia, you actually did a pretty good job decorating, did anyone help you?" i hear ei ask. i am also surprised, usually signora hosts and plans the parties but the great tartaglia wanted to host the halloween party, saying that he would host the best party of the year or some shit like that.  if he somehow got scaramouche to dress up, i wouldn't be surprised if this was one of the best parties i have ever went to.

"yeah actaully zhongli helped me! anyways make your selves at home, people are starting to arrive. remember, have fun! i don't really give a shit if you guys make a mess."

"thank you ajax, ei why don't you look for yae or sara? i'm sure they are looking for you."

"signora if you tease me one more time, i'm going to kill you! reapectfully though! anyways im going to go to the living room, the music is already blasting, signora do you want to come with me?"

"why of course! have fun y/nnnnnn, and make sure you use protection!" she really walked up to me and whispered that shit in my ear?

"stay safe girls, call me if you need me."

now it's just me and this guy and the atmosphere is getting me excited.  loud music is blasting all through out this house, the halloween decorations are nice, lights flashing every where, and people are already getting drunk.  there is a slight problem though, i'm stuck in the kitchen with scaramouche. yes, i did agree to making drinks with him, but i don't think he's aware of what i'm thinking about right now.  how his hands look while grabbing all the bottles of alcohol, how his mask is just dangling under his chin, and how good his hair looks while it's messy. 

"hey bitch, are you just going to stand there like a helpless little kitty or are you going to help me?" aw, how nice of him.

"oh shut up and lighten up a little, what drink do you want to make?  im good with anything."

"honestly, i don't really want a drink. just pour yourself something, i'm going to the main room." and he's already walking away, whatever i'm just gonna get (f/d) and go to the main room as well.

                                               ~

"HEYY Y/N COME JOINN MEE, DANCE WITH ME MY LOVEEE" god signora is already drunk.

"nah i'm good, i'm probably going to drink my drink then dance with you later, is that fine?" i say rather loudly.

"NOOOOO, NOW!" suddenly i'm on the dance floor now, great.  she really thought it was a good idea to yank my arm to her. it's packed in here, i see ei dancing with yae, and signora is just trying to dance with me. "Y/NNN LOOK AT MEE, OH THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONGGG!" shes so crazy, fuck there's too many people in this room and i'm slowly getting farther and farther away from signora.

i then feel my wrist get pulled by someone from behind me. "i never thought i would see you on the dance floor y/n." oh fuck it's scaramouche.

"well it's just that yae forced me up here, why are you here?"

"i was looking for you because childe wanted me to get you and your friends, it looks like we all have to stay the night because of bad weather. the people with their own rides will be escorted out shortly."

"oh okay thanks for telling me. anyways we should probably get off the dance flo-oh fuck." it's so crowded in here, people or pushing and shoving and because of that i accidentally grinded on scaramouche.

"fuck," he groans lowly. i then feel his hand slowly trail down to my lower stomach while his other arm slowly wraps around me. he then presses me against him and i can feel him move his hips against my ass.

"do that again slut," i continue to sway my hips, i can feel his hard on through his costume.

"attention everybody! there will be severe  weather in about an hour! please get ready to leave! stay safe and thank you for coming to my party!" really tartaglia, you're ruining this shit for me.

"we will continue this later y/n," he then wonders to somewhere. i should get a drink after that, i need to find ei and signora.

                                                ~

im still shaken up about what happened, but he did say he wanted to continue later.  the thing is, i haven't seen him since that incident. most people left and the people who are still here are gathering their stuff and leaving.

"bye y/n! hopefully we can hangout sometime, stay safe!"

"bye itto! you stay safe as well and we definitely have to hangout soon!" and the last person is gone, now i need to find ajax, we need to talk about where we are staying.

*ding*

My shawty ei 😍

y/n, come upstairs! we are all

up here!

                    me

okay! i will be there in a second!

read at 10:30pm

~

"y/nnnn! okay we were just talking about where we are staying and since we are staying at tartaglia's house, he is choosing where we are going to stay,"

"alright, fair enough," i quickly scan the room for the one person i've been waiting to see, mr.scaramouche. i look to my right and there i see him in all his glory, legs spread, and his eyes staring right back at me. i decide to sit next to him and cross my legs, subtly rubbing my leg against his. i can see him stiffen a bit, perfect.

"okay so i will be staying in my room, which is directly under this room, as in its downstairs. i only have three extra rooms which means ei gets her own room and that's in the left hall, signora will be next to ei which will also be in the left hall. lastly, scaramouche and y/n will be in this room, as you may know, we are in the right hall. i will take my leave now, you guys have fun! if you need anything, call me! i'll be in my room! byeeeee ladies and gentlemen."

"uhm tartaglia are you sure you don't have another spare room? because this house is huge, it's perfectly fine if you don't though."

"oh i'm sorry y/n, but i'm afraid that i have no more rooms! anyways, goodnight guys!"

"goodnight, signora lets start heading to our rooms okay?"

"yeahhhhhhh, let's go eiiiii, haha your hair is so purple, it's almost like uhhhh watermelonnn,"

"signora are you sure you didn't smoke anything either? whatever, goodnight y/n, take care!" and there she goes.

*click*

now it's just the two of us, the room is dark and it's pouring outside. lighting is flashing through the window and thunder is heard every other minute.

"i meant what i said, get ready slut," he is so idiotic, he really thinks he can get me that easily. i slowly stand up and get directly in front of him. i put one of my legs up on the sofa and put my finger under his chin.

"scara darling, you really have some nerve, you think you can get me that easily? you're going to have to work a lot harder than that," this is going to be fun.

he then takes my leg and sets it down, then he takes my other leg and sets it down on his other side, so i'm straddling him now.

"don't baby talk me y/n, i will have you screaming my name by the end of the night,"

"oh will you? we will see about that scara, i'm sure i won't feel a thing." as i say that, he starts get a rough grip on my thighs.

"oh go fuck yourself y/n,"

"only if you watch me darling,"

i begin to stare at his lips, they look so good right now. so kissable, but i need him to ache for me. i start to move my hips. back and forth, bath and forth, and i start to feel him get hard. his hand trails down my back, while he starts to smirk right at me.

"do you mean what you said? if so, get on that bed my dirty slut," i slowly get up off him and i start to strip right in front of him. slowly taking off the top part of my costume, which leaves me in my bunny ears, under wear, and knee high socks.

i slowly make my way to the bed, taking my sweet time, making sure he won't be able to hold back.

Narrator POV:

y/n starts to lay down, spreading her legs and takes off her panties. next, she slowly inserts a finger inside of her while directly looking at scaramouche. he moves forward and fixes the position he's in.

"ahh scara, i need you so badlyyy" she slurs lowly.

he starts to clench his jaw, seemingly chewing on nothing. he has hit his breaking point, and he can't take her wide eye stare while she's pleasuring herself. he would much rather if those were his fingers inside of her, his fingers shes sucking on, or even better his dick that is making her sob.

he stands up and walks over to her. he seems to tower over her laying body, his mask is still dangling from his neck, and her blissed out eyes staring right back at his dark blue ones.

he slowly gets on top of her and removes the fingers that were once inside of her.

"y/n i cant wait anymore, you have been leading me on this whole night, fuck can i please put it in?" he asks in desperation.

"mm yes please do,"

with her permission, he quickly strips off every piece of clothing and lines his tip up with her entrance. his dick is dripping with pre cum, and is pink at the tip, waiting for her. he begins rubbing his tip again her aching cunt, teasing her in the process.

slowly, he pushes him self inside of her, and he groans lowly while she lets out a low moan. he wastes no time and instantly starts moving. he starts at a decent pace, letting y/n somewhat adjust to his length.

"mm fuck scara, go faster~" she moans

he seems to get off to her moaning his name, so he continues to quicken his pace.

"you look so fucking good right now, you should really see how good i'm-nghh- making you feel."

he pulls out and carries her to the mirror, right in front of the bed. y/n is now staring at scaramouche hitting it from the back. he then puts himself back in and goes even harder. his hands trail down to her clit and begins to rub it in fast motions.

the sound of rain drops hitting the window is drowned out by moans and skin slapping. the once peaceful halloween night was now turned into something much more than that.

"fuckk look at you, you're such a whore, taking me so well. my fucking whore," his pace starts to get ragged, and he starts to run her swollen clit faster.

tears are already falling out of y/n's eyes, she's barely keeping herself up, her legs shaking from pleasure. he arms are struggling to stay straight, and her ass is red from how hard scaramouche is going.

"ahh fuck, fuck scara you're soo good! i'm soo close~"

"look at you shake, and you said you wouldn't feel a thing right? fuckk bitch,"

their unsteady breaths are in sync, and they are not giving a damn if they rest of their friends could hear them, hell that's the last thing on their mind. his hands are playing with her nipples and rubbing her abused clit, while y/n is moaning scaramouche's name like it's the only thing she knows.

"oh fuck scara, yes!! i'm cumming i'm cumming~"

he groans loudly while pulling out and cumming on her ass, while y/n let her arms give out and is laying on the floor, far too tired to move a muscle.

"heh i never thought i would actually confess to you through sex, i'll take you out on a date next time,"

"love you scara..boyfriend.." y/n cant even make a full sentence without falling asleep, so scara quickly takes care of her and they went to sleep.

~

"good morning love birds, did you guys use protection?" childe greets them.

y/n has one arm wrapped around scara's neck while walking down the stairs, limping in the process.

"fuck, he's trying to say y'all were hella loud," signora complains.

"oh shut the fuck up ajax, y/n i'll get your breakfast." scaramouche replies.

——————————————————————————

thank you so much for reading and i hope u enjoyed!

@Roninewt on twitter (art cred)

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Big Plans - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

cw: sex, angst

Let's proceed to the next stage.

The Day of Ash. Its conclusion's already foregone, and he has little patience for repetition. But this part is key.

For context's sake, it bears revisiting.

The scene's already been painted. If a courtroom were a stage, the gallery would be breathless for the denouement. Which will arrive, and in due course. As the High Priestess says: Patience is the companion of wisdom.

For now, picture this:

The banquet at the Last Drop, and Fissurefolk with crumbs clinging to their smiles. The songs, the stories, the slow-reeling hours.  The bundt cake had been served up in generous helpings, each portion with a dollop of sugar. Sweetness: too rich to taste of scarcity.

Too real to taste the bitter arsenic of disaster.

In the backroom, Sevika treated Silco to a different song. They'd swapped a stogie of potent brightleaf, each drag burning a sultry line from throat to belly. Silco had draped a stolen sheepskin pelt on the floorboards, and spread Sevika down upon it.  Her nails were in his back, and her tongue filled his mouth, and her sighs filled the air.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me now."

He went into her, exquisitely slick depths parting for him, inch by inch. His vision blotted out to static, his ears ringing bells. Outside, the thunderstorm of boots and bodies gathered its charge.

That is how he recalls that final night.

Everything hung in perfect equilibrium. One side tilting toward delirium; the other, disaster.

They kissed and gasped and kissed again. His teeth closed around her bottom lip, piercing its fullness. He swallowed her sounds as they rocked together, slow and steady. Every second of pleasure counted. Every gasped cry and shivered moan were an offering. 

To gods unnamed; or to Zaun.

When you fuck and live, you fuck for them both.

His climax was a gut-shot—bang, bang, bang, nailed to completion. He collapsed against her, sobbing behind gritted teeth. Sevika's own climax was unending. Every small movement set off an aftershock that fluttered from her womb all the way to her eyelashes. By the end, they were gummed wetly together with tears.

From rawness of hurt and hope and whatever lay beneath.

After, they lay in a languid, sweat-sticky tangle. Their heavy breaths sawed through the dusty air. The stillness felt holy. As if they'd found some secret within themselves, and were listening to it resonate. Sevika nuzzled into the damp hairs curling over at his temple. Silco dropped a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, followed by a hard, deliberate rasp of stubbled cheekbone between her breasts. The burn glowed in his wake.

Even then, he'd liked to leave marks. Reminders of where she belonged. With him, and the future they'd seize. No takebacks; no middle ground. 

Glory or dust.

Sevika jittered out a sigh. "Sil?"

"Mmm?"

"When all this is over..." Her fingertips traced his hairline. "What d'you want to do?" 

"What?" he murmured, barely cogent. "Why think of that now?" 

"Just... something I'm tellin' myself. For motivation's sake."

"We're motivated."

"We are." She kissed him again: soft, sweet, uncertain. "Still. I wanna hear. You fought for this shit your entire life. Thought you might have plans for after."

"Visualizing, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Like, I see myself walking on the Bridge, without getting frisked. Without those degrading searchlights and the names they call us. You know what I mean, right?" 

"I do." Silco's jaw hardened. "Personally, I'd tear the Bridge down. Reroute everything so we aren't dependent on one mode of transit across the Pilt.  Our harbor still opens out to sea. Our trade could be redirected. We could do business with foreign merchants. I've no doubt there's a market for our wares across Runeterra. Places less sanctimonious and more eager to profit."

"What wares?"

"The gold and gems. But there's more to our domestic industry than the treasures below. You've seen the construction boom in Topside's residential sectors. All from our marble, our slate, our granite. Once Zaun's ours, we'd tap into that sector. No need for a bridge. Or the thieves squatting on the other end."

"See? You do have big plans!"

"Schematics. That's all."

"Helluva lot more than most of us got." Cupping his head in both hands, she sought his eyes. "What else?"

He rested his interlaced palms on her sternum, and his chin atop them.  "Reforms. Top to bottom. Law, infrastructure, security. Chaos without an axis devolves a society to madmen. But we won't survive as a monoculture, either. A diversified economy's the best path forward. We could open our borders to trade with merchants from across Valoran. Build the docks into proper berths, so we're dealing with international vessels on our terms, without them trying to get a foothold in our territory." His eyes slitted, drowsy yet speculative. "What we need is a haven for entrepreneurs and free thinkers alike."

"People who'll treat us as equals instead of animals?"

He grinned: a tiny bite of incisors into her skin. "Exactly. A whole world of profit's out there. We'll tap into it. Show the world that we're more than just gutter-trash."

"And here, I'd be satisfied with a plumbing system that doesn't freeze my tits off come winter."

"Copper piping—" he was warming to the subject— "is where the solution lies. We'll invest in citywide upgrades. A sewage network that leads to treatment plants outside of town. Lessens the runoff so the river fish are fit to eat year-round. We'd also start a sanitation corps. Their sole objective would be to rid the streets of refuse."

"Big plans. Real big." Her touch didn't falter, but he felt a shift in her voice. A sidestep more than a withdrawal. "What about... y'know. The kids?"

 A chill crept through Silco. Gently, he disentangled, easing himself upright. His bare arms roped around his knees. He let out a slow breath, measuring how much to reveal.

Then—

"More reforms. Loads of 'em. No more debts inherited from parent to child. Anyone in arrears would be offered financial advice, and legal recourse. Then there's the quality of education. Most sumpsnipes can barely scrawl their names. How's a nation meant to advance if its children can't count coin? Universal schooling is the least Zaun can provide. Medical centers that offer basic services. Soup kitchens with free meals. All of it must happen, if our folk are to succeed."

"Mighty generous. What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only stipulations." He met her eyes, aglow in the gloom. "These children have spent a lifetime dodging Topside boots. They should be given safe spaces, where they can explore their talents. Without the constant threat of those spaces being torn down, the way our orphanages were."

"Some of those little boot-dodgers could do with a kick, though."

"Maybe. But there's a difference between coddling and support."  His palm rolled open. An invisible blade balanced on either side: compromise and conviction. "The right to learn in safety is as necessary as the freedom to grow from mistakes. The kids would get their licks. But they'd also get a choice." His voice softened. "The rest would follow."

Sevika softened in turn. "Knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You're a big sap when it comes to kids."

"Quit taking the piss."

She shook her head. "Always knew you cared. Deep down. Otherwise, why go through with this at all?" Her palm squeezed his forearm; a caress bordering on worship. "It's gonna change, Sil. You'll change it. The kids'll have better than we ever did."

Her eyes met his. The compassion seared. Because of course she could see straight through him, to the gnashing fears hidden below. Same way he could see through her, to the long-dead hopes buried in her bones.

Like fossils: fragile but irrefutable.

They'd been told since birth they were inferior, and inferior beings must perish. Yet they'd survived. Doggedly, brutally, defiantly. And having done so, deserved a shot at more.

Tonight, they'd seize it. They'd turn the tables forever.

No fairness; only equity.

"After..." Sevika swallowed. "Y'think we'll have something more stable?"

"Stable?"

"Y'know. More than night-rallies, and smuggling and stabbing bootlickers in back alleys."

"Why? Got the itch to settle down?"

A flush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes cut away. "Nah. Just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Don't make me spell it out."

A few beats. Then realization sank home. The ice thawed; a smile crept across Silco's lips.

"Are you implying...?"

"What?" Sevika challenged, knowing exactly what was implied. The blush deepened, a charming mottle of deep rose. In a fistfight, she was seldom caught off-kilter. But intimacy always did it for her; abraded the roughness down to the girl she'd been: bruises on her knees and big dreams tucked close to her heart.

Like his stolen bergamots stuffed in her pockets.

"Say it, love," he goaded gently.

"Naw."

"Say it."

"Fuck off!"

"Say it, or I'll guess." He slid back down into the lovely warm circle of her arms. His head settled into the lovelier, warmer declivity between her breasts. He nuzzled, playfully. "Are you, by chance, expressing an interest in—don't be shy—sharing your bolthole?"

"Never... never said that." But she was shivering; a different thrill entirely. "Just wondering if I should start clearing out some drawers."

"Making room, hmm?"

"Place could do with a fixer-upper."

"My skillset does extend to home repairs."

She scoffed. "Being handy with a hammer's not a skillset." But her arms found their home around him, as he found his in the shelter of her. "We could split chores."

"Equitable distribution of labor?"

"Someone cooks, someone scrubs the dishes. Someone sets the table, someone brews the tea..."

"Better be me. Not sure I'd survive another mug of leaves-and-grit."

Her ribcage jerked; a peal of laughter that threatened to break into tears. Silco's own chest felt vaguely smothered. By emotion; by hope.

They'd seen enough of sorrow for a lifetime. Why not dream a little?

 "Let's see," he went on, kissing his way from one breast to the next. "The labor's divvied. But what about the living space? It'd need renovations. New plaster for the ceiling, so the cockroaches don't rain down from the cracks. New floorboards, too. Solid wood so the place stays dry. Nothing like this—" He rapped his knuckle against the nearest plank, eliciting a resounding echo of termite damage, "—so during our more, ah, exuberant endeavors, we don't drop down two stories and land right in old Josiah's stewpot."

This time, her laughter bubbled up without reserve. "Soundproof the walls, too. So the neighbors don't cuss us out every night."

"And morning."

"And evening."

"And afternoon."

"And—" Her laughter sank, husky; the kissing had become an openmouthed sampling, "—whenever we feel like it."

"There's the spirit."  He lapped the roseate bloom of one aureole, savoring her whimper. "What else? Oh. A balcony facing south, with geranium pots. Or a row of night-blooming jasmine. You could dry the petals, press them, crush them for sachets. Or better yet, grow your hair long and wind the flowers through it."

"Fucking sap. My hair's not fit for braids. Gets greasy five seconds after washing." The laughter ebbed. Her mood receded into something both sweeter and more pained. "Nothing like Nandi's."

"Nothing like Nandi," he agreed.

He felt it immediately: the full-bodied flinch, struggling and failing to disguise itself. But he understood. It wasn't envy; only memory. Loss was loss. There was no cure but time.

The question was how much to steal.

Taking her chin, he kissed her again. Kissed the burn to bed; the flame to smoke. He made love to her lips until they parted. Until that sweet pain ebbed, into the background, where it belonged. Her thighs shifted, enfolding his hips; her breath stirred on hungry hums. Each kiss tasting like a gift she couldn't give herself.

A gift he couldn't deny her.

She'd never be Nandi. Nor would she ever stop feeling her sister's absence. But he wasn't here, on the last night before the final charge, for a specter.  

He wanted what they had now, real and alive between them.

A second chance.

"Listen, love," he breathed, thumbing the wetness beneath her eyes. "No one will ever replace your sister. No one. But you are your own. And you're mine. And I swear to you—if tonight doesn't fuck us into the ground—we'll do everything we've planned. We'll fix up that bolthole. Fix up this whole damned city. And then we'll live our fucking lives."

"Sap," she said again.

"Not if it's true."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"All of it. The balcony with geraniums. The jasmine in your hair. The new roof, and new walls. The new life." His stare deepened. "With me."

She bit her lip; the flush faded into resolve. "Yeah."

"So let's have it."

"With what coin, Sil?"

"I've got a cache of loose rubies in my mattress. You're welcome to pocket a few, as a down-payment. Hell, if it means selling all my loot in the lockbox, we'll do it. If we've got to wait fifteen years before we can afford even one seed of jasmine, we'll still do it." A sudden honesty creased the conversation, cutting through their banter. "Anything. Everything. As long as you're game."

For a moment, she looked at him, as if seeing beyond his words. Her pragmatism never failed, even when her temper veered off course. But it was as if his confession had opened a different door, and longing beckoned.

There were many avenues they'd never gone down. Places they'd both learned were dangerous: Tomorrow and Always; Safe and Sound; Nothing's lost and Anything's Possible.

Paths that weren't lies but far-off lights in the distance. Too far to cross on foot.

But now...

"Would everything," she whispered, "include the usual?"

"The usual?"

"I mean… d’you see yourself wanting a family?"

Silco fell still.

"An anklebiter, or two? The chance to do better for someone than anyone's ever done for us?"

The stillness deepened. Their stares locked. The silence looped into an eternal second. In that space, Bloody Sunday’s screams echoed and re-echoed.

"I...I don't know," Silco said at last. "Maybe not now. But... someday."

"Someday?"

"When Zaun is real. When this city stands on its own. When the future's set in stone, not a whisper in the wind." He smoothed the furrow between her brows, trying for levity. "Why? Don't tell me you've slipped your dose?"

"'Course not!" she snapped. "I take that crap everytime we go to bed!"

"But you've thought about the alternatives."

She chewed the corner of her lip, rolling the answer around. The dream was no longer dead in her eyes. It had transformed. "I think..."

"What?"

"Someday."

"Someday?"

"Zaun's gotta be real, first." She cupped his left cheekbone. The future pulled them down, into each other's grip. The scent of jasmine blooming from somewhere unseen. "And Zaun needs you, Sil. So after everything goes down... after things settle..."

"...there's more to look forward to." His face split on a smile. Contentment finding a home in their shadows. "Forward being the operative word."

"Damn straight."

He shut his eyes, drinking in the heat at the crook of her neck. The rest of him sank against her body. Down between her thighs, to that familiar dip that was wet and waiting for him. To a place that kept him warm, but one he couldn't lay claim to as a home. Not yet.

But someday. 

Yes.

And just like that, the revolution burned bright. On a peltstrewn-strewn pallet on the backroom floor, they began making their plans all over again.

"Marble stairs," he breathed, as he slid inside her. "Lapis-laid floors."

"Fucking bougie," she gasped, palms starfishing his hips. "I'd never set foot on 'em."

"I'd haul your arse inside by the ankles. Every day. With fresh jasmine twined in your hair..."

"Greasy fucking hair..."

"Beautiful hair." His head hung down, forehead touching hers. Her lashes fanned velvet over his cheek; her breaths grew short against his throat. "Shining and strong, and I swear—"

"Swear...?"

He rolled his hips, dragging himself over her sweet-spot, just the way she liked. Her belly quaked; her head tossed back on a cry.

"I swear it'll only be the start."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." He thrust deeper, dizzy on her rising sobs. "Zaun's owed so much more. And we'll take it all. Everything."

"Everything," she groaned, arching up to take him fully. "Everything, fuck..."

"Like that?"

"Gods, Sil, don't fucking stop—"

Silco's spine tautened. His body had gone rigid, poised at breakage. Still he held himself steady, prolonging the moment as he did the promise.

Each syllable sinking deeper than a knife to the gut. The cuts would last a lifetime, but the scars would be worth it.

They'd last the distance when all else bled away.

Sevika shuddered; a tear slid over her temples, vanishing into the darkly clinging hair along her scalp. It was greasy, from hard hours of work, and the slew of harder nights leading to this. But it was beautiful, too, for how alive it was: how resilient she was.

How real she felt, falling apart beneath him. Keeping him tethered in all the places he was unraveling, too.

When she came down, she was laughing again. Laughing, and crying, both.

"Not the worst thing," she gasped, "a girl could hear before dying."

"Fuck that," he gritted, locking in for the home stretch. His nerves sang high; a keening pitch he chased the limit. "You'll die old. On—on feather pillows and cotton sheets. After a full life of scrapping, and the best bloody sleep you've. Ever. Had."

"And y-you...?"

"Me?"

"You'll be there?"

He caught her hand, kissing her rough knuckles. "No."

She gasped as he pinned her arms above her head. Sank his full weight down, till the burn between their bodies, blissful bright electricity, stole every doubt beyond the room.

Wiped everything beyond the moment.

"I'm not dying," he grunted, seconds from bursting, "until Zaun's come to life."

She shuddered. He surged. The finish struck like lightning.  Bright static spooling through his skull to ignite a fire in the blackness.

Revolution was like that: just another word for apocalypse, stripped of the terrors.  Not that they'd be spared the latter. Freedom always had a price. Always broke bones and bruised souls.

But the vows, in their shared gutter-tongue, were binding. Full of crude designs and raw hopes, but as real as that night.

Real as the scars.