#so if you want to read it like that it certainly does make sense for it to be like

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

I am unreasonably upset about the fact that I've been forced to accept that Gabriel was a Gerald.

For context, in An Inspector Calls, Gerald Croft is engaged to Sheila Birling when he meets a homeless, struggling Eva Smith in a bar, and essentially in return for a home and money he shows her affection (ahem), then gets rid of her once he no longer has a use for her. Now, obviously this isn't a direct translation, but the essentials are - a Gerald is a character who uses another character, in return for something they need, usually masking the fact that they're using them with affection and love.

And against my will I've had to accept that this is exactly what Gabriel does to Nathalie.

Did I want to think he had potential to be better? Did I think he genuinely cared for Nathalie?? Hell, did I just really really want somebody to care about Nathalie???

Probably all of the above but the point is: he's Gerald. And I cannot - I literally can't unsee it now. Their whole dynamic in S3 is like “oh boohoo I'm sorry I wish you didn't have to use the peacock Miraculous and kill yourself over it but uh I need to use your powers” “yeah no that's fine I'm all good”. Which, given the "Gerald" theorem, I'm assuming leads to the fact that what Nathalie needed, above all, was someone to care about her - and Gabriel came along, as Sheila Birling puts it, "like a fairytale prince", and was so caring and gentle and... Yeah. She fell for him. And. Yeah he genuinely did seem to care like twice. But so did Gerald. Gerald actually admits that he did care for Eva, just not the way that she cared for him, and, uh, not enough to not just dispose of her. So he discards her anyway when she stops being useful.

Leading me neatly to my point.

He starts using the peacock Miraculous the second it's fixed, the slimy bastard, HOWEVER. It runs way deeper than that. Assuming I'm right (which I almost DEFINITELY am), then Gabriel only needed Nathalie while she was useful. She didn't stop being useful in season three - she's still scheming for him, helping him with plan after plan. It's only partway through season 5 that she officially servers ties with him, and starts to actively hinder him.

Nathalie stops being useful when she fails as Safari. And I reckon that's when Gabriel and Tomoe decided she had to go.

(It's painfully, I-was-ugly-crying-over-it obvious in Conformation that Gabriel is fully prepared to let Nathalie die - in the original storyboard, her alliance was encouraging her to sleep, and he's very obviously prepared for this moment - I've made a separate post about it that I'll link if I can find it. However, onto the next bit)

With all of this, there's one thing that sticks out to me - Nathalie didn't see any of it until it was already too late. There could be many reasons for this. But you know who would have seen through it? Whose parents were all loving and perfect until she married the wrong man? Emilie. Emilie, who left behind those videos, which on the surface look innocent, but when you look deeper look like a (love confession???????) AHEM a warning. I reckon Emilie noticed what was going on and realised that Nathalie wouldn't see through Gabriel, so she left those videos addressed to Nathalie (not Gabriel, which surely they should have been - they were about him, after all - unless they were there...) as a warning. I don't think the videos were supposed to be about helping Gabriel, I think Emilie was warning Nathalie to get the fuck out of that house, and to take Adrien with her. Because Emilie knew it'd end like this.

Yes I'm still mad ok give me a break.

[cleromancy]

this is so funny bc. he didnt even do anythinggggggg the responses to jason within countdown got so disproportionate by the end. all these characters talking about how completely annoying and unbearable jason is and literally when you look at. what hes actually done on panel hes just been this

[silkentine]

Me when they are the sisters ever: 😭😭😭 They came out soooo freaking well. I won’t lie, they took me a thousand years to finish but through the constant support from all of my buds (and my latent bisexuality), we made it 😤

Hopefully you guys know the deal by now: design choices, easter eggs, and (NEW!) closeup shots below the read more. ⬇️

I wanted Ace to have a very down-to-earth vibe and looked at Aussie beach-girls, coastal cowgirls, and vaqueras for reference. (IDK, I’ve just always envisioned Ace as part-Australian🌺 and Mexican 🏴‍☠️) Her clothing choices are mostly natural or utilitarian materials like the painted wooden beads on her top, her woven fabric and leather belts, and her denim jumpsuit. I gave her bikini top a zen-garden kind of feel because I read the first Ace’s Story Novel and I loved how idyllic and peaceful they made Sixis Island sound so I wanted to invoke that in some way.

Speaking of her painted wooden beads, they hang off the back of her top and represent her connection to Sabo and Luffy. They watch her back once she sets sail. She only wears one red glass bead earring because the other one got ripped out of her ear when a child, leaving her earlobe torn (don’t think about it too much 😢). Also, YES! she does wear a hibiscus flower just like Rouge (because I hate you and I want to make you cry, muhwahahahaha).

Also, I really wanted her to have super textured curly hair that licks behind her like flames. I am always considering whether or not a character should have long hair or not because I don’t want it to be a hindrance if they’re in a fight (or if they ARE a fighter with long hair, how to they avoid an enemy making use of that?). Ace is, of course, a Logia-type Devil Fruit User so I think she wouldn’t have trouble with people grabbing it LOL I get the feeling that she doesn’t take very good care of it even though it looks amazing. Like you’d think it would be soft and bouncy just by looking at it but if you ever get the chance to run your fingers through it, it’s a total rat’s nest and there’s sand and food all up in it. She still falls asleep while eating 😂 but she tries her best to only do it around people she can trust (woman moment 😔).

Honestly, her design is not that different from Ace’s canon look. It feels really vital to Ace’s character to have a lot of skin showing. And he’s always hanging all over himself with his hips all cocked like the weight of the world is too much to stand up straight. It is certainly not my OWN preference to make her an absolute smoke show. That’s just the character, okay? (I’m partially lying and the proof is that I turned the emblem on Ace’s hat strap into a sternum tattoo for no other reason than that it is sexy af.)

Here are some closeups of Ace:

Now for Sabo, I’ve made her very girly. I tried putting her in pants or something more militant but she told me that she’d wear the big poofy sleeves and hiked-up ruffled skirt. I think Sabo has always had a strong grasp on his fashion sense and individual flair and I truly believe that his personal style is one of the major influences for the rest of the Revolutionary Army resulting in the very flashy, queer, steampunk aesthetic (aside from Dragon’s plain-ass cloak). So of course I had to implement her nonconformist look when reimagining her as a woman and dress her up to the nines.

I’ve given her very ornate jewelry that is there to tell a story, even if she herself doesn’t know it. I like to think she picks up stuff from her travels that resonate with her, such as a damaged set of earrings with one stone missing or red cup-shaped shells featuring three nestled pearls. Another accessory that cannot go unmentioned is her dragon claw hat pin that keeps her top hat resting on top of her hair (and is definitely used as a weapon when the situation simply doesn’t call for trusty metal pipe). She also has a veil that obscures her prominent facial scar. I imagine she’s not very keen on the reminder of the incident from her childhood that took away her memories. I also kept her chipped toothed because 1) it’s fucking adorable and 2) is a visual reminder that she no longer aligns herself with the nobility who would have gotten such a thing fixed. She is so poised in almost every outward facet of her life from her dignified role as the Chief of Staff to the elegant materials in her clothing that it can be easy to forget she was also a rough and tumble forest dweller. Every time Koala remembers this, he lets out the biggest sigh.

Her hair is inspired by Gibson Girls and Elizabeth Swann from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I wanted it to be fussy and tidy but fall apart when she’s in moments of distress. For example, when she remembers her sisters, her hair starts to look like Ace’s flaming mane. I’m so in love with her, I think she looks like an adorable little porcelain doll that would fuck you up. I made an effort to keep her eyes a little bit manic. I get lost in her steely black orbs (and also Ace’s warm brown ones, but we’re talking about Sabo rn).

Here are her close-ups:

Plot notes for this AU:

For this series of character designs, I wanted the expressions and outfits to be aligned with the canon plot but I don’t know if I have the heart to kill fem!Ace in my AU. I’m too attached and ASL has suffered enough!!!!! But Ace’s death is also a major defining moment for Luffy so it feels disingenuous to completely avoid it. Also a huge aspect of Sabo’s character is carrying on Ace’s will and I have so many thoughts about how the Dressrosa Colosseum scene would play out if they were all women. Oh well, I’ll cross that tragic bridge when I get to it. I’m definitely going to draw some Modern AU Girl Piece ASL though. They deserve to hang out with no stakes 😭 They are sisters!!!

Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog for my other One Piece genderbends! 🥰

[bloodibambiidoll]

Buy Me Presents ⟡˖ Boyfriends!Dad!Rafe x reader ⟡˖

𐙚 Your boyfriend sucks. But his dad? Well, he’s not so bad…𐙚

(Heavily inspired by the book “Birthday girl” by Penelope Douglas and the song “Buy Me Presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. It’s my lil bday gift to myself. Shout out my luv @cameronwillow for beta reading for me.)

Age gap(Rafe is early 40s Reader is mid 20s), Rafe is your Bf’s dad (duh! It’s the whole plot), Reader has a tramp stanp and nipple piercings, Male masterbation, Mutual pining(so so much pining), Thoughts of cheating, Actual cheating (not by Rafe or R), Jealousy/possessiveness Spanking, Pussy eating, Unprotected sex, Biting, Choking, Size kink, She’s a looong one, buckle up!! 18+MDNI!!

You love your boyfriend, you really do. And he isn’t a bad boyfriend. He just isn’t necessarily a good boyfriend either. The easiest way to put it is that he’s neglectful. In every sense of the word. It’s not out of character for him to forget to pick you up from your late night shifts at the bar you work at. He is constantly forgetting your plans, or just flat out ditching them in favor of hanging out with his friends. He never cleans up after himself unless you ask, and even then the chances are slim that he will actually do it. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know how to turn on the dryer. Why would he need to? He knows if he leaves the piles of dirty laundry long enough you’ll get sick of it and wash them yourself. And last but certainly not least, he is the least financially responsible person you’ve ever met. He misses work to the point where he gets fired from every job he’s ever had. He spends all his money on partying and eating out. And now? He’s screwed you out of your apartment that he hardly even pays for since he’s always late on bills.

He decided that having a fucking rager on a Tuesday night in your small apartment complex instead of picking you up from your double shift was a bright idea. You ended up having to get an uber home, which you absolutely couldn’t afford and by the time you made it home your place was trashed and your boyfriend was out front being hauled into a cop car. Apparently when your landlord asked him to shut the party down he got all agro and started screaming and arguing that it was his house and he can be as loud as he wants. And when your landlord didn’t agree? He punched him in the face. So he called the cops and they took him down to the station to cool off. This wasn’t the first time he was asked to break up a party like this, but it was the last. Your landlord evicted him and even though he hardly paid you still couldn’t afford it without even that small amount of help.

He ended up calling his dad from the police station to come bail him out and of course he did. He always does. That’s why Caleb Cameron can’t account for a single goddamn thing in his life, he always has daddy’s money to bail him out. That’s why you are where you are now, staying with his dad, for the foreseeable future. After Mr. Cameron bailed Caleb out, he offered you both a place to stay at his house. His nice house that he built. Which you of course tried to decline.

But after much convincing from both Cameron men, you agreed to move in while you save money to get another place on your own. His dad doesn’t need help with any of the bills but he asked that you and Caleb keep up on the chores and take turns making dinner every night. You’ve been here for a few weeks now and so far you’ve been doing everything. Caleb hasn’t even picked up a single sock off the ground.

Mr. Cameron or “Rafe” as he’s asked you to call him several times now, isn’t bad. He’s been very kind and generous to you since the moment you met him. Which wasn’t until the other day. Caleb never wanted to introduce you to him. You’ve seen him around and of course you know of Rafe Cameron, this island isn’t very big. But from what you can tell their relationship isn’t the best so you’ve never actually had a conversation with him up until now.

He’s been easy to coexist with though. He’s surprisingly low maintenance. Rafe spends most of his day working with the guys on his construction team and then he comes home and showers. If you aren’t working a late shift you always have dinner ready. He comes downstairs in fresh sweats and pops open a beer. Then you, him, and Caleb all eat together. At least you’re supposed to, Caleb was only here the first night you moved in, he’s spent every other night out. Leaving you and his dad to eat dinner together alone.

Tonight is one of those nights. Caleb went out to the bar with his friends, even after you told him you were making his favorite dinner for him. He left before it was even done. Rafe will be home anytime now though. You’ve noticed he’s usually home around five thirty so you have dinner ready and kept warm by five. You made chicken parmesan from scratch and it’s in the oven set to warm while you sit at the shiny marble kitchen island, doom scrolling on your phone. You hear a key in the lock and you hate that ears perk up. The door opens and you hear keys being dropped in a glass bowl before footsteps sound toward the kitchen. It takes him a few seconds to come into view because you also hear him unlacing his work boots, but when he does? You can’t stand that your stomach swoops at the sight of him.

Not only is Rafe generous, successful, cleans up after himself without being asked, he’s always on time and he always asks how your day is. He’s fucking gorgeous. His piercing blue eyes make your skin heat each time they’re on you. His messy mullet seems like he’s been cutting it for years, which there’s just something charming about. Like he could have someone do it for him but he’d rather just do it himself because it’s cheaper and easier. Not that he’s hurting for money. His dad might have cut him off and left him with nothing but once he found out he was having Caleb he refused to be like him. He built his own construction company from the ground up and worked odd jobs to get to that point so his son would never want for anything. His personality just makes him even more frustratingly sexy. It doesn’t help that his thick arms that always seem like they’re going to burst out of his t-shirts are covered in tattoos and his smile, god his smile, it gives you butterflies from your stomach down to your pussy. He always looks particularly edible when he gets off work though.

“Hey, Caleb here?” Rafe walks into the kitchen wearing dirty work jeans and a carhartt coat, his face has a few smudges on it and he really tests your strength when he pulls the jacket off. He’s only wearing a tight white tee that’s just as dirty as the rest of him, his broad chest and thick arms on display. You feel like you’re going to go insane when he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and it causes his shirt to ride up and show a sliver of waist. You finally pull your eyes away from his body to meet his own and he has a brow raised in your direction. God, how long have you been ogling him? Hopefully he didn’t notice. Fuck.

“Oh, uh- no, he went out.” You let out a small sigh and shrug your shoulders trying to play it off like you don’t care. Like you didn’t make his favorite meal because you’ve hardly had any time together recently. Like you didn’t hope you could eat together then snuggle up and watch a movie together, maybe fuck. But apparently whatever party he went to tonight held priority over his own girlfriend.

“Mmm, he seems to go out a lot, huh?” Rafe chuckles and his lips quirk into a small smile but you can see the sadness in his eyes. Caleb is avoiding him and you both know that. But it’s not like him ditching you to go out is a new occurrence. “Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Kay, dinner is ready whenever you’re done. I waited to eat.” You don’t respond to his question about Caleb, you both know the answer, it doesn’t need to be said. His eyes linger on you for a moment and you don’t miss the way they flash to your thighs in your little sleep shorts momentarily before he turns and exits the room. You hate that just the smallest attention from him has your skin tingling. You’re just lonely, that’s all it is. He’s your boyfriend’s dad, you can’t have a crush on him. It’s just a fleeting attraction. You’re not blind, the man is walking sex. And it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve been fucked.

Around twenty minutes later Rafe comes downstairs and grabs his beer like he always does. Then he wanders into the dining room where you have the table set with dinner dished up. There’s an empty plate in front of the chair beside you in case Caleb decides to come home. But you know he won’t. Which makes it all the more hard to not drool over the way his dad is wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top like it isn’t the sluttiest outfit a man could possibly wear.

Rafe could say the same about you though, sitting there in your little pajama shorts and a cropped tank top with a tiny zip up hoodie that you have unzipped halfway so it’s hanging off one of your shoulders. Smiling up at him from his dining room table that has never been set a day in its life up until you moved in with a warm meal prepared for him after a long day. It’s something he’s always wanted, someone to come home to, someone that cooks him meals that aren’t take-out or from the microwave. And he hates how sweet and full of life you are. He hates it because he loves it. You blast music and dance around while you clean. You bring the kind of noise to this house that was otherwise so quiet sometimes he felt like any sound he made bounced off the walls. And you’re so fucking pretty it almost hurts.

Especially because he can never have you. Not only is he old enough to be your father, you’re his son’s girlfriend for fucks sake. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy your presence. Especially if Caleb isn’t going to. He loves his son with all his heart but just in the short time you’ve been here he’s noticed he isn’t very attentive with you. He wishes that didn’t disappoint him and also fill him with something that is tinged with jealousy that he pushes away immediately. He just doesn’t like to see his son taking a woman like you for granted. If he had someone like you? He’d worship at her feet and do anything he could to make her happy. He really needs to find a way to control these thoughts he’s been having about you because it seems like they intensify the more time he spends around you and he can’t let a small attraction that he can tuck away in the back of his mind become anything bigger than that. Not with you. He’s just getting older and more lonely every year and you’re beautiful, easy to talk to, and living in his house, wearing those little tank tops and tight yoga pants. It’s just some minor lust, that’s all.

“I made chicken parm and there’s uh - mashed potatoes and sauteed veggies.” You gesture to the food on his plate as he sits down in the chair across from you.

“Thanks, looks good.” Rafe clears his throat and cuts a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it between his lips with a groan that has you clenching your thighs. “Damn, that’s delicious. This is Caleb’s favorite, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m sorry he’s not here.” You sigh and look down at your plate, pushing some food around with your fork. Mentioning the lack of your boyfriend’s presence has another wave of disappointment washing over you. You’re starting to wonder why you even get your hopes up anymore.

“You don’t need to apologize for him, he’s a grown man.” Rafe’s expression hardens slightly, he can’t help it. You made Caleb his favorite dinner and he flaked on you? Not only is he disappointed as his father but he also can’t believe any man would take your sweet gestures for granted. He’d die to have someone be this attentive with him. “I’m sorry he isn’t here.”

“Ha! He’s a grown man, you don’t need to apologize for him.” You throw his words back at him with a smirk and it makes him chuckle, the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

“Well, you got me there.” Rafe runs his hand over his head turning sideways under the guise of having to stretch but really he’s hiding the little smile that you keep seeming to bring to his face. Rafe thinks it might be a little too giddy to be coming from your boyfriend’s dad.”For what it’s worth, this is really good, thank you. I appreciate you cooking.”

“Yeah, no problem, just paying my dues.” It’s your turn to pretend to stretch. The words he said were so simple, but to you, they held so much meaning. To be appreciated for something you do, isn’t something you get very often. “I’m - um- I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah it’s really good.” He pokes the veggies on his plate with his fork and gives them a look of disdain that has you hiding a chuckle behind your hand. You’ve noticed he tends to eat around the healthy stuff you serve him. “But I could do without these veggies though.”

“I’ll make a healthy eater out of you, you’ll see.” You give him a playful glare that he returns with a smile he doesn’t bother to hide this time. “It’ll be good for your heart, old man.”

“Wow! I am not that old.” Rafe brings his hand to his chest in mock offense and it sends you both into a fit of laughter.

“Mhm, whatever you say old man. Let me know if you need help getting up the stairs after dinner!” You lean forward on your elbows and laugh and it takes every bit of willpower Rafe has to not linger on the way your tits bounce at your motions.

“You’re funny, I like talking to you.” You hate that the way he says that makes your body heat because you know he doesn’t mean it like that. And you shouldn’t want him to.

You really need to stop relying on Caleb for rides. This is the third time now that he’s forgotten to pick you up from your two AM shifts and you don’t really have many other options. Your coworkers already left you to lock up for the night, your sister isn’t answering her phone and you’ve never been able to rely on your dad for a single thing in your life. You wish you had friends to call. Or money to get your own car. You groan and throw your head back in frustration when your boyfriend’s phone goes to voicemail for the fifth time. You could call an uber but you’re really trying to save money to get out of Rafe’s hair sooner rather than later. Rafe, he would pick you up. But do you even want to call him? He’s definitely asleep, since he gets up at the crack of dawn everyday for work and do you really want to open that door?

The two of you have been getting along really well the last few weeks, settling into coexisting with one another. You honestly spend more time with him than you do your boyfriend at this point but he’s already done so much for you and you aren’t sure if you want to push it. You could sleep here, on the couch in the office and hopefully Caleb will get back to you by morning. But you really want to take a shower. And if you uber it’s really just setting you back on saving so in the long run it’s going to put Rafe out even more anyway. Fuck it. You click on his contact and it only rings twice before he answers.

“Hello?” Rafe’s sleepy voice says your name and you can’t help but wonder if that’s how he’d sound moaning in your ear while he pounds his - you’ve gotta stop. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Rafe.” You take in a shaky breath, god you hate asking people for help. “Um, everything is okay, it’s just - is Caleb home?”

“Is he not with you? I thought he was picking you up tonight.” You hear rustling, like he’s getting up out of bed. “He’s not here. He hasn’t been home since this morning unless he came home when I was at work. Are you okay?”

“No, uh - he’s not with me.” You clear your throat and let out a dry, half hearted, chuckle. “He was supposed to pick me up, he must’ve just gotten caught up, maybe his phone died or something. I can’t get ahold of him could you -”

“I’m coming to get you. Stay inside, keep the doors locked.” You hear his belt clanking as he hurriedly gets dressed on the other side of the line. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Seven minutes later you hear Rafe’s pick-up idling outside and your phone is dinging with a text that he’s here. You aren’t sure how it's possible that he got here so fast, considering his house is in a nice suburb outside figure eight and the bar you work at is on the cut, but you don’t question it. You lock up the bar, walk over to the curb, and hop in Rafe’s truck.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t have anyone else to call and -” Rafe chuckles but it’s not one of those charming ones you’ve come to know, he seems irritated and now you really wish you would’ve just slept in the bar.

“Don’t, be sorry.” Rafe shakes his head as he puts the truck into gear and pulls off toward his house. “I’m sorry that my son left you hanging like that.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You wave your hand and try to brush it off with a smile, maybe ease some of the tension. But Rafe’s hands just tighten on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to whiten and he breathes out hard through his nose. Maybe you really fucked up by calling him.

“No. It’s not. It’s unacceptable.” Rafe grits out. He’s trying to not be unreasonably angry but the way he’s watched his son basically neglect you has been grinding his gears more and more everyday. And now he forgets you at one of the sketchiest bars in town in the middle of the night? You were alone, it seems like your coworkers already left. Anyone could have decided to try and break in, what would you have done if he didn’t come?

He hates that it makes him feel animosity toward Caleb, that jealous feeling that’s tinged with possession growing more and more the longer he’s around you. He would never forget you. If it was up to him you wouldn’t work in that bar at all and he’d take care of all your needs and desires. Rafe is old school, he wants a pretty woman to come home to, to cook for him and let him eat her pussy every night before bed. Someone who will keep him in check and make him laugh when it counts. The way the two of you have been living together kind of feels like that, excluding the sex parts. Lines are starting to blur for him and maybe he just really needs to get laid. It’s been over a year now.

“If you ever need a ride, call me. I’ll be there.” You don’t argue, there’s no point. This man is as stubborn as you and if you try and disagree you’ll just go back and forth till one of you caves. And you have a feeling it would be you. His voice holds a finality that just has you nodding in agreement before the two of you fall into comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.

Okay, Rafe seriously needs to get laid. He feels like he’s living in a never ending intro to a porno. He isn’t sure if he’s ever been more thankful or if he regrets ever putting that in the ground hot tub out back but he feels like he’s being tortured. It’s mid November so the pool is covered but the hot tub is free game and you’ve definitely been taking advantage of that. He should be glad, it’s the first time it’s getting real use since he built it but the fact that you go in it nearly every day means you’re in a bikini nearly everyday.

You have a few different ones but the one you’re wearing right now while you walk through the kitchen. You have a pink towel that you definitely brought with you from home thrown over your shoulder and the little platform slides you’re wearing are the only other thing on your body. The baby pink straps of the bikini hug your curves perfectly. The little triangles barely cover more than your nipples and he can see that they’re pierced through the thin material. The bottoms are practically a thong, showing off that little angel wing tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back. Hardly something you think that a girl would wear around her boyfriend’s dad, but he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.

Things have been different between the two of you this last week. Caleb went on a ski trip with his friends and didn’t even bother to invite you. It’s not like they’re your friends, anyway. So it’s just been you and Rafe for the last five days. There was a night that the two of you ordered chinese food and you showed him what a “christmas horror movie” is. Which he really enjoyed. He’s not huge on movies but he can’t deny that he loves a good horror movie.

You laughed and joked together. Playfully teased each other over your food orders and ended up just ordering twice as much food. You both sat maybe just a little too close and your arms brushed every once in a while. It was almost like you both got more brave after that, letting glances linger a little longer than necessary. His hand on the small of your back when he passes the kitchen. Flirty banter. And your outfits somehow seem to be getting smaller and smaller by the day.

His cock pulses as he watches you bend over in your little swimsuit to grab a water bottle out of the fridge and he doesn’t advert his gaze fast enough because when you stand up straight and look over your shoulder at him there’s this mischievous little glint in your eyes and a smug smirk painted on your lips. You turn his way and rest your palms on the marble countertop he built himself and it almost makes your tits spill out of what little material is covering them. He’s going to lose it.

“You gonna get in with me yet, old man? Or are you still too boring?” You tilt your head to the side with a bright smile and your voice is so saccharine he feels like he’s gonna get a goddamn toothache. He can’t go in the hot tub with you though, his control is slipping more and more everyday and being that close to you, wet, in that bikini, seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Guess I’m still too boring, little girl.” Your little ongoing inside joke of teasing each other about your ages makes him chuckle because he’s not really old, he’s only forty two. And you’re certainly not a little girl, you’re a sexy young woman. Too sexy. And too sweet and thoughtful. And you’re fucking funny and quirky. And he hates how bad he wants you.

It’s getting harder to chalk it up to lust the more time he spends alone with you. But he still has hope that he’s just lonely and horny because he can’t like you, you’re his son’s girlfriend for god's sake. Even if Caleb doesn’t treat you like you’re even his girlfriend at all. He’s barely seen him the entire time you’ve lived here. He’ll hit up one of his old booty calls tomorrow, it’s saturday and every woman on this island is just dying for a chance with Rafe Cameron. The only problem is he doesn’t like any of them. He doesn’t have to like them as people to get this pent up energy out though.

“Suit yourself, have fun being old and boring.” You shrug and send him a wink. You let your eyes travel from his face down his body before turning on your heel toward the door. He holds in a groan at the sight of your hips swinging, your ass jiggling in that tiny material. He was already half hard but that sent him over the edge. He needs to take a cold fucking shower.

Rafe runs his hands through his hair, letting the cool water cascade down his back. He lets out an exasperated sigh because truly this isn’t doing shit. He’s fucking cold, still hard, and he can’t stop thinking about what would happen if he did go in the hot tub with you. Was it just a friendly invitation because he built it and you think he needs to relax more? You definitely think that, but the look you gave him said there was more to it than that. The look in your eyes always does. Like you’re saying something to him without saying it and he’s pretty sure he looks at you the same way. It can never be more than just teasing, more than walking that line. You’re off limits and he knows that. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you and what nobody but him knows can’t hurt, right?

Rafe lets his mind wander. He imagines what it would be like if he took you up on your offer. He’d get in with you and sit as far away from you as you could. You’d probably talk because even though Rafe isn’t a big talker, it seems to come easy with you. He thinks about the way the water would make your tits float in that little top and how little tendrils of your hair would fall free from that clip you have in and stick to your skin. He can see that little cheshire smirk you always give him and that mischievous look in your eyes is just straight up naughty now as his mind has you inching closer to him by the second.

You’d press yourself against him, your beautiful tits that he knows are probably so soft pressed up against his arm as you look at him with pouty lips and tell him how bad you want him. He’d grab your hips and pull you into his lap to straddle him and wandering hands would turn into heated kisses while you grind down on his cock. He would finally take that top off and get to see your tits, grab them, suck them.

Rafe grabs his throbbing cock and squeezes the base before pumping it in his hand. He groans in his chest as his head falls and his fantasy continues. In his mind his hand travels between your legs and pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, rubbing your clit a few times before thrusting two fingers knuckle deep in your wet pussy. You’d let out the prettiest moans while he pushes you to the edge with his fingers. And then you’d beg for his cock and he’d fuckig give it to you. The pace of his hand on his cock picks up and his breaths grow shallow as he imagines his hand is you, sliding his dick into your wet heat while you moan his name. You start to ride him and Rafe feels his stomach tighten. The imaginary you’s tits bounce beautifully in his face and it has his cock throbbing in his hand as he spills cum down his wrist.

He pants, the you filled haze he was in starting to fade as he comes down from his high. He turns and washes himself while he tries to shake the regret setting in. He really needs to get you out of his system.

You sigh as you use a damp towel to wipe down the bar, going through the motions of your closing duties. Caleb got home from his ski trip today and you wish you were more excited. You haven’t seen him yet since he got back while you were at work but he’s supposed to pick you up tonight. You told your sister you might need a ride, just in case. You hate that you feel like you can’t rely on him anymore. It wasn’t always like this, he used to be attentive and loving toward you, you used to be best friends. As time went on though, he got comfortable and lazy until it got to this point. You used to get butterflies and count down the seconds until you saw your boyfriend again and right now your stomach just feels like it’s filled with a pit of snakes.

He left you for an entire week, without even so much as an invitation because “he figured you wouldn’t want to go”. He left you the entire week alone in the house with his dad and if you and Rafe didn’t get along so well that would’ve been incredibly awkward. God, Rafe. You hate that the snakes in your stomach start to morph into butterflies at the thought of him. But the instant guilt that washes over you has another round of snakes swallowing the fluttering bugs whole.

These thoughts and feelings you’ve been having toward Rafe have only increased more and more over the last week. You’ve had fun with him. He’s easy to be around and surprisingly funny. You’ve grown comfortable around him and adjusted easily to living in the same space as him. Maybe a little too comfortable. You made yourself cum to the thought of him twice in a row last night. It was the first time you gave in and let your mind wander there but you haven’t cum as hard as you did in a long time. He’s just so fucking sexy and there for you. You’re just lonely, that’s all. At least that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself.

Despite your lack of faith in him, Caleb did end up picking you up from work and he even stopped at your favorite dinner for late night fries and milkshakes like you used to. You laughed together and you remembered how hot he was. His wavy blonde hair, his soft green eyes and charming, boyish smile. It’s almost like you forgot what he looks like from how little you’ve been around him lately. Everything felt better than it has in a while. Not great, but good. You had hope that maybe you and him could get back to normal up until he had you on your back with your legs spread.

Caleb isn’t bad in bed, he’s not the best ever but he’s always satisfied you. He doesn’t go down on you as much as you’d like and no matter how much you ask he won’t be rough with you but the sex isn’t bad. Tonight though? No matter what you did you couldn’t get out of your head. You usually love the way Caleb shoves his face in your neck and moans in your ear but something about it just felt like he was trying to avoid looking at you and the weight of his body as he thrusted deep into you almost felt suffocating. You were wet, you wanted to cum, but your brain wouldn’t let you. That was until Rafe’s face flashed into your mind and no matter how hard you tried to push him out it was like he barricaded himself there. You imagined it was him on top of you instead and it’s embarrassing how fast you came after that. Caleb wasn’t far behind you, spilling into the condom before pulling out of you and rolling over on his back. That was another thing, you were on birth control and no matter how much you begged him to cum inside you he wouldn’t. He said “it wasn’t worth the risk.” He fell asleep shortly after that and even though it was almost four in the morning you couldn’t shut your mind off. So you get out of bed and wander downstairs to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you round the kitchen corner to see Rafe sitting at the island. Your hands fly up to cover your chest on instinct because all you’re wearing is a tiny silk nightie. You didn’t expect him to be up. God, did he hear you?

“Rafe! Hi! You scared the shit out of me.” You let out a breathy laugh and try to act normal. Your hands find the hem of your nightgown and tug, willing it to cover more of your ass. But that only pulls it further down your tits and the way Rafe is looking at you right now is making you want to melt into the ground. He’s never looked at you so hungrily but he also looks kind of pissed off. “I didn’t expect you to be up, sorry!”

“Huh, well, I couldn’t sleep.” Any hope that he didn’t hear you diminishes in that moment. “If you’re going to get railed under my roof at three in the morning the least you can do is try and be quiet.”

“I-” Your entire body warms and your words get caught in your throat. He really just went right out with it, didn’t he? He couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen like a normal person? “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Rafe chuckles almost condescendingly. “I have to be up for work in an hour and I’ve spent the last forty five minutes listening to your fake moans until you finally came.”

“Mr. Cameron.” You gasp at the brashness of his words. Why does he sound like a jealous boyfriend and not someone who’s angry at a loss of sleep? “I don’t think that’s really appropriate… I’m sorry if we woke you up but-”

“No.” Rafe’s tone makes your body tingle with anxiety and something else you try not to dwell on as you watch him push himself up from his seat and round the kitchen island in a few strides. He stops only inches in front of you, his large frame looming over you. It’s only now you realize he’s in nothing but a pair of black, low to the hips sweatpants and it’s blindingly apparent that he isn’t wearing any underwear. “You know what’s inappropriate? Moaning so loud your boyfriend’s dad can hear you from down the hall… Or is that what you wanted?”

He drops his voice to a low whisper at the last part and you’re completely stunned by his words. Especially because he’s not wrong. A small part of you hoped he’d hear you. You didn’t expect this reaction though. Your words are caught in your throat for a minute too long and you know the way you’re looking up at him with your thighs clenched and your eyes blown wide gives you away. And when he smirks down at you, you know you’re caught.

“It is, isn’t it?” Rafe leans down further into your personal space, his plush lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Naughty girl.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest and you’re at a complete loss for words. You’re starting to think you fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Rafe pulls back, his eyes feel like they’re setting your skin on fire as he looks down at you like he wants to bend you over this counter right now. But, he doesn’t. His large hand grazes your shoulder as he reaches out to push your hair back and after giving you a final once over from head to toe he takes a few backwards steps before turning on his heel and going up the stairs. What the fuck just happened?

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You can’t believe Rafe is here and with Hollis Robinson, of all people. Her being here isn’t irregular, she comes in here every week to hang all over the different blue collar men. You guess she’s just trying to go for something the opposite of her last husband, midlife crisis and all that. But why does she have to be here with him. There’s no way he didn’t agree to come here just to piss you off. At first you weren’t sure if he just had a naturally flirty nature and maybe you were just thinking too much into it because like you’ve been beating into your own head you’re just lonely. But after last night in the kitchen? And now this? You’re starting to think there’s more to it.

Especially since you want to walk over there and claw Hollis’ eyes out of her skull for how she’s looking at him. And the way he keeps looking over at you over her shoulder with a smug fucking grin painted on his face says a lot. This is payback for last night and if he wants to play that game? You’ll bite. You pull your tiny black tank top even further down, revealing the top of your red bra and you pull up your low rise jeans up slightly more on your hips so they hug your ass. You make sure your tattoo is still on display though, you’ve noticed him looking at it.

“Can I get you guys a refill?” You lean down and rest your palms on the table with a wide smile on your face and you can’t help but press your elbows together to show off your tits even more. The charming smile Rafe was throwing Hollis’ way falls the minute he lays eyes on you. He came here in hopes of riling you up and gauging your reaction to see if this was all in his head but now he’s the one feeling like clawing someone’s eyes out.

He’s picked you up a few times but he’s never come inside the bar and he can’t believe that this is where you work. It’s not particularly dirty but it’s definitely a dive bar, the kind of place guys like him and bikers on the road stop for a beer. If he was the kind of guy that went to bars, that is. But what’s really getting to him is how every set of male eyes in the building follow you wherever you go. They’re like bees to honey to the way you walk around with that sweet smile, swinging your hips. He wants to wrap his coat around you and haul you out over his shoulder so no other man can see you. But you aren’t his, so he needs to play it cool.

“Sure, honey. Another martini, dry.” Hollis barely spares you a glance and wave of her fingers before going back to drooling over Rafe.

She’s sitting in the chair next to him but she has it pulled so close she might as well be in his fucking lap. Her heel clad foot swings back and forth, hitting his calf every few passes and you want to break it off. She rests her chin on her folded hands as she gazes over at him with the biggest fuck me eyes you think you’ve ever seen.

“And a Coors Light for you, right? In the can.” You let your eyes flash from Rafe’s to his lips for just a split moment before locking eyes with him again. You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and then pull it between your teeth and Rafe has to literally stop himself from groaning at the sight. Hollis hasn’t solicited a single reaction out of his body the entire night, but every time he looks at you his cock gets just a little bit harder. His plan is completely backfiring on him.

“Yeah, thanks, angel.” The nickname catches you both off guard. It makes his eyes blow wide as he takes in a deep breath through his nose. He’s been holding that back for some time now but it’s true, you are an angel. Your bright eyes, the way you care for him and that little tattoo. A naughty little angel with horns, that is. And even though your insides are melting, you paint on a smug smirk, not backing down from this fight.

“You got it, babe.” You throw him a wink, just catching the way his eyes widen slightly before flicking your hair over your shoulder and turning on your heel toward the bar. You make sure to swing your hips extra because you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you. You love knowing you’re getting to him, maybe not as much as he does to you. But you’re getting a reaction and that fills you with pride you shouldn’t feel.

You make Hollis’ martini without hardly even looking, most drinks have become second nature to you after working here for three years. You peak over at Rafe after grabbing his beer and you immediately see red. Hollis has her leg thrown over his lap while she presses her tits against his big arm that you want to latch onto with your teeth and never let go. Rafe looks half interested in what she’s saying, at least. Especially when he looks over at you and fucking smirks. Yeah, you’re gonna ruin his fucking night. What if he plans on bringing her home? You don’t think you can stand to hear him fucking her from down the hall. Even the thought makes you want to puke and you wonder if that’s how he felt the other night.

That might be wishful thinking though. You paint on your sweetest smile and walk back over to their table, placing their drinks on the table. You make sure to lean over Rafe close enough that your tits graze his other arm. A silent display of possession that nobody but Rafe notices.

“Here’s your drinks, enjoy!” You turn like you’re going to walk away before quickly turning back around. “Actually, I meant to ask, how long will you be here? I kind of need a ride home.”

“He’s busy, I’m sure you can find someone else to take you ho-” Hollis tries to shoo you away but Rafe cuts her off, pushing his chair back enough that her leg falls from his lap.

“When are you off?” Hollis scoffs and detaches herself from him, sitting back in her seat. Thank god. You can’t help the small smirk you send her way.

“In an hour, I’m not closing tonight.” Your eyes lock with Rafe’s crystal blue ones and you can tell he knows what you’re doing. Yet you don’t care. And he’s still letting you do it, so. “If you don’t mind hanging around until then.”

“Actually, I was thinking about heading out soon.” Hollis shoots you a look before resting her red manicured hand on Rafe’s bicep as she looks over at him almost desperately. Pathetic. “You wanna come to my place? Have a glass of wine, get cozy?”

“I would, but I think it’s best I make sure she gets home safe.” Rafe barely spares her a glance while he shuts her down and she visibly deflates. You would feel bad if you didn’t want to rip each one of her thickly mascara lined eyelashes out of her head.

“Aww, really?” Hollis pouts as she tips her head to the side to try and get Rafe to look at her but he doesn’t. His eyes stay on you. “I think we will have a good time, I’m sure she can find another ride, can’t you?” She looks at you like you’re going to be her wingman and take one for the team or something. Too bad you don’t feel like sharing. Even if he isn’t yours and probably never will be. He’s not going to rub it in your face at your place of work.

“Actually, my ride fell through.” You cross your arms to push your tits up and set your lips into a pout. Rafe feels like he’s going to fucking lose it any second. You never ask him for help, so he knows you're jealous and it’s making his cock uncomfortably hard. “I can probably swing an uber if you’re busy though.”

“No. I’m taking you home with me.” With him. You like the sound of that. “Go do your stuff. I’ll wait.”

“I know what you were doing in there, I’ve been around the block a few times, little girl.” Rafe grits at you as pulls out of the bar parking lot. He waited for you to get off. Hollis left before he did, not without asking him to go home with her again, of course.

“And I know what you were doing in there, old man. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m oblivious.” You roll your eyes and put your doc’s up on his dash. It makes him groan as he reaches over to knock them back down. “Umm, rude.”

“I’m rude? And ruining my date isn’t?” Rafe scoffs.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You didn’t want to be on that date and we both fucking know it, Rafe.” You roll your eyes and shake your head and Rafe really wishes he wasn’t driving right now so he could finally spank that attitude out of you. He has half a mind to pull over but he has to keep reminding himself you’re not his. “You would have never gone there if I didn’t work there, don’t act like that wasn’t why. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to see my reaction.”

“She asked to go there, you’re just overthinking it.” Rafe shakes his head as he turns onto the main road toward his neighborhood.

“No. If I was overthinking it, you would’ve left with her and not me. Don’t try to make me feel like I’m making shit up in my head, you were blindingly obvious about it.” His big hands tighten on the steering wheel causing the veins to pop out. You want to slobber all over them and feel them inside you. “You were trying to make me jealous and it worked, so what now?”

“Now? Nothing.” Rafe chuckles dryly and you can see his jaw tense. “We go home, you go to bed and I’ll do the same. Nothing can happen and you know that.”

“But you aren’t saying you don’t want it to.” You press the issue, you aren’t letting it go that easily.

“God damn it.” Rafe breathes out through his nose and says your name sternly. “Stop. Just stop. This can’t be a thing. No more of this shit that happened tonight. We go back to coexisting the way we should and if I want to go on dates you’re just going to have to get over that because you are my son’s fucking girlfriend, jesus.”

“Yeah, whatever, tell yourself that all you want.” You lean back in your seat with your arms crossed, turning away from him to look out the window. “You know it’s more than that but go ahead and keep lying to yourself.”

“It’s what I have to do, okay?!” Rafe snaps and slams his hand on the steering wheel before regaining his control. He runs his hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath. He isn’t the guy that loses his temper at the drop of a hat anymore but you’re so god damn frustrating it makes him feel like he’s going insane. “Now please, just let it go.”

“Fine. But I know you feel this thing between us.” You laugh dryly, your throat feeling tight from rejection even if you know you’re right. “But I’ll drop it and let you live in your little land of denial.”

“Thank you.” Rafe sighs and you both fall silent for the remainder of the drive, only the sound of the local rock station playing quietly in the background.

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You curse under your breath as you toss your keys down on the table by the door and rip your coat from your body. All the other times Caleb has forgotten to pick you up were just mildly annoying in comparison to this. Considering it’s your fucking birthday. You don’t think he even remembers. He didn’t say anything to you this morning before you left for your day shift and he hasn’t texted you all day. He did say he would pick you when you managed to momentarily wake him up though. You hoped maybe he had a surprise planned for you when you got off but you aren’t even sure why you let the thought cross your mind. It feels like he doesn’t even care about you anymore.

As much as Rafe wants to deny that there’s something between you, he gives you more attention than your own boyfriend. Caleb was out all night, so, was he passed out hungover this morning. But when you went downstairs there were doughnuts and coffee from your favorite bakery sitting on the kitchen counter. There was a pink balloon tied to the coffee and a little note in front of it that read “Happy Birthday, angel. -R.C.”

Rafe was already gone for work when you woke up so you haven’t had a chance to thank him yet. You hate that you’re more excited for him to be home than you are to see Caleb. You know he’s here somewhere because his car is out front, you assume he’s upstairs gaming with his headset on and his phone on silent. Or he’s asleep. You sigh deeply as you walk over to the box of doughnuts still sitting on the counter and pull one from the box. You take a bite before looking out the kitchen window and when you do you nearly choke.

Caleb isn’t gaming, and he’s not asleep. But he is out back in the hot tub with his “friend” Jessica. Ass naked. Fucking her from behind with her top half bent over the ledge. You feel like you’re going to be sick as you watch her mouth fall open in pleasure. Caleb pulls her hair, yanking her head back before you watch him land a smack on her ass as he fucks her roughly from behind. He’s never fucked you like that. It was always so vanilla and lackluster. Watching him fuck her like you’ve asked him to fuck you a thousand times is like a knife to your heart. Tears prickle the rims of your eyes But you don’t want to cry because you’re sad, no, you’re fucking pissed. You slam your hand down on the counter in frustration, crushing the glazed treat you’re still holding against the marble. You take a deep breath, readying yourself, and then you walk out the back door.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking rich.” You chuckle dryly as you walk across the back patio to the hot tub and Caleb and Jessica’s eyes flash toward you, their movements halting. “You know, you’ve gotten me some pretty shit presents over the years, Caleb. But being so balls deep in some other bitch that you forget my birthday entirely really takes the fucking cake.”

“Babe!” Caleb backs away from Jessica with his eyes blown wide, pulling out of her and leaving her to stand there trying to cover herself. “It’s not -”

“It’s not what it looks like, really Caleb?” You scoff and you can’t even help but laugh. “You’re a fucking idiot. There’s no talking your way out of being a cheating fucking whore when I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“Hey! Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t -” Jessica’s voice is strained and nervous as she pulls herself from the hot tub and reaches for her clothes that are discarded on the ground.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You know exactly what you did. Everyone in your little friend group knows me and Caleb are together. Don’t disrespect me by lying to my face.”

You take a few hurried steps towards her and she flinches, making a smirk spread across your lips. Good. She should be scared. She’s lucky Caleb isn’t worth an assault charge. You send your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend a glare. “How long?”

“Since the ski trip…” His head hangs low between his shoulders and you can’t believe he has the audacity to be pouting right now. But he’s always been selfish.

“Oh? So this has been going on for weeks? And I bet all your little friends knew, huh?” Caleb opens his mouth to answer but you cut him off. “Were you all just sitting around laughing, knowing I was oblivious? You disgust me.”

“Babe -”

“I’m not your fucking babe! Shut up! I’m tired of hearing your god damn voice, Caleb!” You shriek and stomp your foot in frustration.

“Whoa, what the hell is going on out here?” The sound of Rafe’s voice sends an icy hot chill all through your body. God, how much of that did he see?

“Dad, don’t worry about it. Just go inside, this is none of your business.” Rafe loves his son with all his heart and even if Caleb doesn’t realize it, everything he’s done in his life has been for him. But right now? He has never been more disappointed in his entire life.

Rafe didn’t see everything but he got home around the time you were calling Caleb a cheating whore. That combined with the fact that there was a random girl scrambling to put her clothes on while his son stands naked in the hot tub doesn’t make it hard to tell what is happening.

“There’s yelling going on in my house, I think that’s my business.” Rafe is almost at a loss for words. He feels frozen. He would never abandon Caleb but the fact that he did this to you fills him with rage. The fact that he took you for granted was one thing, but cheating on you? It makes his blood boil. If it were anyone else they’d be getting their ass beat right now.

“I think I’m just going to go.” All three of their heads whip towards you at your words. Rafe looks distressed, Jessica looks guilty as hell and Caleb has a mixture of both painted on his face.

“No, you stay. I’ll feel like shit knowing you’re sleeping on your sister's couch when you’ve been pulling my weight around here anyways.” Caleb pulls himself out of the hot tub and pulls his swim trunks on before walking toward you. It makes you take a step back.

“You can stay with me, if you need.” Jessica squeaks out and it makes you belly laugh. You really are such a fucking joke.

“You don’t have to leave, either of you. We can work something out.” Rafe looks over at his son, so fucking disappointed in him but he doesn’t love him any less and he doesn’t want him to leave. But he really doesn’t want you to leave either, he’s really come to love you. Well, he loves having you around. He doesn’t love you, he can’t. But god the longer he’s around you he wants to love you so badly. Especially right now, he can see you shaking from here. He can see the angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes and he hates it. He wants to grab you, pull you into his chest, and protect you from the world.

“I won’t force her to be around me after this, dad.” Caleb sighs as he pinches his nose before locking eyes with you. “Just stay here, okay? I want you to stay where you have space. You seem happier here. I’m going to go get some stuff to get me through a couple days and I’ll come back for the rest later on. Come on Jessica, we’re leaving.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry I never meant for you to find out like this.” Jessica sends you an apologetic look.

“Ha! I don’t give a fuck about your apology, bitch. Get out of my sight before I beat your ass.” You take a threatening step toward her and she hurriedly runs toward the back door with Caleb in tow. He sends you another sad glance before walking inside, leaving you alone with Rafe.

“God, what the fuck just happened!?” You let out an aggressive deep breath as you flop down on one of the patio chairs. You groan and throw your head back, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The sound of Rafe’s voice inches from you makes you jump as your eyes shoot toward him. He’s crouching in front of the chair with a concerned look on his face and god, you want to jump into his lap and have him hold you so badly. Even when Caleb literally cheats on you, you can’t get these thoughts of Rafe out of your head. If anything they’re just increasing by the second.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should go check on Caleb, tell him he doesn’t have to go.” You clear your throat to stop the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Once I calm down a bit I’ll go get my shit together and get out of your hair.”

“No.” Rafe’s voice is stern but not angry and your entire body heats when he rests his big hands on your knees so you’ll look at him. “I don’t want you to leave. I love my son so damn much but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in him right now. I’ll never force him to leave but if he wants to go, I think maybe it’s for the best right now.”

“Yeah, but even if he leaves there’s no reason for me to be here if he and I aren’t together, Rafe.” You sniffle, wiping your nose and under your eyes with your hoodie sleeve. You refuse to let him see you cry.

“There is a reason, doll.” Rafe squeezes your knees slightly in a comforting manner as he looks up at you so sincerely you could almost melt. “I want you here. I like having you here. Not just because you help out around the house or because you make delicious food. I like you, I like your presence and being around you. I don’t like to talk much, I can’t stand small talk, but it comes easy with you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Rafe. You have no obligation to me, I can’t just freeload off of you.” You sigh and Rafe can’t help it, he glances toward the house to see if Caleb is looking but the blinds are closed so he leans up on his knees and takes your face in his hands.

“I know I’m not fuckin’ obligated but I want to help you. I want you here, please?” Rafe’s voice breaks at the end and he hates that he sounds so desperate. But that desperation tells you all you need to know. He’s saying it without saying it. Rafe wants you. And now that Caleb gave you the ultimate fuck you, what’s really holding you back from having him aside from your own moral compass? He’s still Caleb’s dad. On the other hand though? Fuck Caleb and his feelings.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Your voice is small and you swallow deeply as Rafe continues to hold your face in his big, calloused hands.

“That’s my girl.” Rafe grins at you and places a kiss on your forehead and for a second you forget who Caleb even is. He’s never touched you this much and now you never want him to stop. You want to feel his lips and hands on every inch of your body. “Sit tight, okay? I’m gonna go make sure Caleb is okay and see if he needs any help.”

You sigh and look up at the sky. The sun is setting, kissing the tops of the trees as the cold midwinter wind whips through your hair. You’d probably be freezing in your little work outfit if you weren’t so filled with adrenaline. Are you really gonna stay here with Caleb’s dad? Especially when you know how badly you want him? You know the answer is yes, against your better judgement. You’ve tried to push your feelings down, tell yourself they were based on loneliness and circumstance. But the fact that you just watched Caleb cheat on you and you were more sad about the fact that you’ll have to move away from Rafe is very telling.

You want Rafe. You want his kind gestures. You want the banter you have when you order take ou and watch cheesy horror movies on nights you were left alone. You want the way his lips look extra plush and the way his mullet looks all messy when he first wakes up. You want the possessiveness and the protectiveness. You want to jump his bones when he gets home in his work clothes all covered in mud. You want to eat dinner and shower together and fuck before bed. You want him to fuck you on every inch of this house actually. You want him so bad you can’t even deny it anymore. You want him so bad it almost hurts.

You let yourself sit with that information until you hear the front door shut and Caleb’s car pull out of the driveway. You’re finally starting to get cold so you take a deep breath and push yourself up from the chair to face the music.

As you approach the back door you realize the lights in the kitchen are off, which is odd for this time of day. Did Rafe go to bed to avoid having to interact with you? You wouldn’t blame him, part of you wants the same. You just want to sink in bed and sleep for a week. But when you open the door your hand flies to your mouth with a gasp.

The room is illuminated by candles that are lit on top of the prettiest cake. It’s shaped like a heart with pink and white frosting and your name is in the middle of it, written in pretty, frosted cursive. If that wasn’t enough there’s a little box with a bow sitting next to it and the greatest present of all is the man standing behind them. Rafe still has his navy work shirt with the logo for his company on and he has this lopsided, boyish smile painted on his face that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. This man is a dream.

“Rafe, I- you did this for me?” Your words nearly get caught in your throat and tears prickle your eyes for an entirely different reason than they have all night. “No one has ever… No one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” Rafe smiles at you sweetly as he scratches the side of his neck before running his hands through his hair. “Don’t go getting all teary eyed on me before you even open your gift, angel.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything…” Your voice is barely a whisper and you hardly trust it as you approach the counter and pick up the little box. At first glance you’d think it was jewelry but when you pull off the bow and open it up there’s a keyfob inside. “What is? Rafe, you did not buy me a car!”

“No, yeah, I did.” Rafe chuckles and comes around the other side of the counter to stand no more than a foot away from you. “You deserve it.”

“Rafe, I can’t accept this. You have to take it back.” You push the box toward him but he just stops your hand, pushing it back toward your chest.

“Well, I’m not taking it back. So if you don’t drive it, it’s just going to sit in the garage collecting dust.” He splays his hand across your chest, holding the key and your hand in his larger one as he looks down at you almost lovingly. It fills your heart with hope you’ve been refusing to let in. Rafe tucks your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your temple. “Let me do this for you.”

You can’t help it, you throw yourself into his arms with a squeal and he catches you easily with an arm around your waist. You’re tired of denying yourself his touch, it is your birthday, after all. Rafe chuckles and squeezes you to his chest before setting you on your feet in front of the cake.

“Make a wish, birthday girl.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his chin against your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you know exactly what you’re going to wish for. More of this. More of him. For as long as he will have you. You lean forward and blow out the candles before letting your body rest against Rafe’s with your head tilted back so you can look up at him. “What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you, it won’t come true.” You giggle and spin around in his arms and he takes your face in his hands. Rafe thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and he can’t pretend he doesn’t anymore. He needs you. He wants to kiss you so bad and you surprise the hell out of him by throwing your arms around his shoulders and smashing your lips against his own.

The kiss starts off tender, almost nervous. But it quickly turns heated when his big hands grip onto your waist and pull you flush against him. He groans against your mouth and you use it as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and tangle it with his. You stand there making out, your hands wandering any part of each other they can reach. Rafe’s hands slip lower and slide just under the bottom hem of your skirt, grazing your ass. You

bite down on his bottom lip and Rafe pulls back to look down at you.

“Fuck, we really shouldn’t…” Rafe breathes out through his nose and bites his lip, his actions contradicting his words because his hands travel higher up your skirt and grip onto your ass possessively.

“Do you care?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you grind your stomach against his rock hard cock and scratch the back of his neck with your pointed nails.

“Fuck, not anymore.” Rafe loops his arms around your thighs and you jump up so he can carry you to the couch. He tosses you over the arm and gets on the couch behind you with his legs bracketing yours. He leans over your body so his lips are brushing the shell of your ear. “The first time I fuck you is gonna be in my bed but I’ve been waiting so long to spank that bratty ass and eat that sweet little pussy I need to do it right fucking here.”

Rafe leans back and pushes your little Jean mini skirt up over your ass to reveal the tiniest little pink thong he’s ever seen. He lands a harsh smack on your ass and it causes you to yelp and jolt forward. He gives the other the cheek the same treatment before bringing his hands down on both at once.

“So fucking perfect. Knew you would be, baby.” Rafe runs his fingers over your slit through the lace of your panties, feeling your sticky wetness. “And so fucking wet.”

He gathers some on his fingers before pulling away and marveling at the way it glistens in the low light. He hooks his arm around your neck and holds his fingers to your lips. “Suck.”

You take them into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting yourself mixed with Rafe’s salty sweat. It shouldn’t taste as good as it does but it makes you hum around his fingers as your eyes roll back.

“Been thinkin’ bout this all day, everyday, since you moved into this house, angel. You’ve been thinking about it too, haven’t you?” Rafe shoves his fingers down your throat causing you to gag as drool pools into your mouth before he pulls them out and spanks your ass with his wet hand, causing it to sting extra.

“Yes, daddy. Everyday. Want you so bad.” You arch your back and wiggle your ass and Rafe feels like he’s going to bust in his pants like a thirteen year old boy.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think you know what you just did.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs onto your thong and pulls it down to your knees, locking them in place. “You want me to be your daddy? Alright. But that means I get to beat this little ass red for the way you’ve been teasing me.”

“Yeah?” You glance over your shoulder at him with that mischievous look you always flash him in your eyes and a naughty little smirk painted on your lips. “Do you fucking worst, daddy.”

Rafe gives you that lopsided grin that makes your stomach do flips before spanking your ass hard. The skin immediately turns red and you don’t have time to process before he spanks you in the same exact spot even harder. He gives the other cheek the same treatment and then rotates back.

“That’s my good little girl.” Rafe rubs your reddened ass and then spanks you again and again. “Not such a brat now, huh? Just needed that attitude beat out of you?”

“I don’t know, I think you might have to fuck it out of me.” You giggle and wiggle your sore ass which only earns you another round of spankings, leaving you a moaning mess. He leans down and bites down hard on your asscheek as two fingers slide through your dripping folds.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m gonna give you the best dick of your fucking life. But first, I’ve gotta taste this god damn pussy.” Rafe admires the growing bruises and the bite mark on your plump ass before grabbing your cheeks and spreading you open so he can run his tongue along your slit to your pulsing clit.

He swirls his tongue around it a few times before sliding it back down and thrusting it into your hole. Rafe flicks his tongue inside you and hooks his arm around your thigh so you can’t wiggle away.

“Oh, fuck! God, yes, daddy.” You whine and grind back into his face and when his thumb finds your clit you’re embarrassingly close. Your body subconsciously tries to run away from the mind blowing pleasure but Rafe only brings his free hand to the small of your back and uses it to pin your upper half down.

“Quit wiggling and let me devour this pussy, brat. Be a good girl and stay still for daddy, yeah?” Rafe mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations sending your eyes to the back of your skull. “Need you to cum for me, baby.”

Rafe unhooks his arm from your leg so he can thrust two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy while his lips latch onto your clit. He curls his fingers against your sweet spot and rolls his lips around your aching bud and that’s all it takes to have you seeing stars. Pleasure wracks your entire body as you shake beneath him. He sucks and fingers you through your orgasm until you’re over sensitive and your top half is limp with your arms dangling off the arm of the couch.

Rafe leans back to admire you and his cock feels like it’s going to burst. Your hair is cascading over your face as you lay limp across the couch with your ass arched in the air. Your crop top is pushed up showing off the curve of your back. Your butt is red and covered in his hand prints and the bite mark is already starting to bruise. Your little skirt is framing your hips perfectly and your pussy is all puffy and dripping creamy, white.

“I know I said I’d take you to the bed, baby girl, but this pussy just looks so god damn irresistible I’ve gotta have her right now.” You hear the metal of his belt clanking and the sound of his zipper before you feel the fat head of his cock slapping against your ass. He grips his shaft as he runs his tip through your dripping folds and then he uses your wetness to lube his cock. Rafe pumps himself a few times before lining up with your entrance and pushing inside you in one, unforgiving thrust. You both moan in unison as he bottoms out, his balls grazing your clit.

“Oh my god, I’m so full.” You whine as your walls clench around him and Rafe pulls his hips back until only his tip remains before slamming his cock back into you and starting up at a brutal pace. He grips onto your hips and fucks you like a man possessed. He’s entranced by the sight of your ass bouncing back against him while your creamy pussy coats his cock as it swallows him whole over and over again.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby. This pussy is so perfect, fuck, even better than I ever could’ve imagined.” One of Rafe’s hands grips onto your throat and pulls you up so your back is flush against his front and the new angle pushes him even deeper inside you, making your pussy flutter around his cock. He grabs your hand with his free one and presses it against our belly where you can feel his cock bulging from inside you. “Feel that? You’re so fuckin’ full of me.”

“Yes, daddy, you’re so fucking big.” You gasp when he slams his hips up into yours so hard the sound echos off the walls and then he pulls almost all the way out and does it again and again, fucking you rough and deep. Rafe squeezes your neck as he pushes up your crop top so he can grope your tits and pinch your pierced nipples.

“Oh, Angel, I’ve just been dying to see these. The way you prance around in those little bikinis has been driving me insane. Let daddy see those pretty tits.” He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. He grips onto your hips and flips you over so you’re straddling him.

Rafe leans back on the couch and runs his hands down your body before tracing up your stomach so he can graze his fingertips over your pert nipples. He circles the little bars that have hearts in the middle with a groan.

“Oh, fuckin’ look at you. Never seen anything more god damn perfect in my life.” Rafe leans forward to take a nipple in his mouth and it makes you cry out.

“In all your years, right, old man?” You giggle when he pulls back with a glare and grips onto your hip so he can lift you onto his cock, the feeling of him filling you again makes you nearly go cross eyed. “You getting tired yet?”

“I thought I fucked that little attitude out of you, huh?” Rafe plants his feet flat on the ground so he can thrust up into you while using his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock. The sight of your tits in his face has him twitching inside you.

“I think it’s gonna take more than once, actually?” You smirk up at him and Rafe is fucking gone. He’s obsessed with you. “Can your old man knees keep up?”

“Baby, it’s so cute that you think I can’t keep up with you.” Rafe flips you onto your back and grips onto the back of your thighs as he kneels on the couch in front of you so he can pound into you harder and deeper than ever. “Rub your pussy for me.”

“Fuck, daddy, I’m so close.” You moan loudly as you bring your finger to your slick clit and rub circles on it. Rafe grips onto your throat and pins you to the couch cushion as he continues to plow into you. “Want you to fill me up, please?”

“Yeah? I’ll give you my cum as soon as you give me one more. Cum for daddy, sugar.” Rafe squeezes your throat as his dick hits your g-spot and your fingers rub your clit just right and it has euphoria washing over your body. Your pussy is like a vice grip around him and the pretty little moans you’re letting out as you come undone for him has Rafe spilling inside you. He doesn’t know if he’s ever cum this much in his life as his cock continues to pulse inside you and fill you with ropes of his cum. You lay pliant beneath him as you look up at him like he hung the stars and it fills him with pride, “Yeah, that’s my good little girl.”

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” You breathe out and saying it outloud feels like the biggest weight off your shoulders. “I’ve wanted you so fucking badly, Rafe.”

“God, baby.” Rafe grabs your face in his hands and runs his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so god damn I’m obsessed with you too. Now that I’ve had you, I never wanna let you go. I’m addicted.”

“Yeah? Well you never have to. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have an attitude and tease you about your old man knees until the end of time.” You giggle when he throws you a playful glare and it makes a wide smile break out onto his face. “But who knows? Maybe I can be tamed one day, looks like you’ll just have to keep fucking me to find out…”

“I think I can manage that, angel, starting now.” Rafe leans down and kisses you sweetly before gripping onto your hips and standing up to throw you over his shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of this house, starting with my bed.”

In that moment you think to yourself that maybe sometimes birthday wishes really do come true. You both know shit is complicated, but right now you don’t care. You finally have him, and you’ll figure it out together.

Tagging mooties: @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @eddiesxangel @that-sarcastic-writer @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @moonlightseranade 🤍

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ If you made it this far, thanks for sticking around for all 13k words!! I put my blood, sweat, tears, pussy, heart, soul into this. I hope you enjoyed !! DILF!Rafe moodboard ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Divider by @anitalenia

[starrbishops]

⟡Baby, I'm Yours⟡

(Bob Reynolds x f!Reader)

Summary: You have sex with Bob for the first time. (sequel to Risk but can be read standalone)

Word Count: 4K

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, established relationship, SMUT, "what are we gonna do ride Bob" 😏, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, p in v, missionary, cowgirl, multiple rounds (super stamina woohoo!) unproteted sex (wrap it up kids), Bob Reynolds has a big dick fight me on this, references to masturbation and wet dreams, aftercare, Bob's eyes glow when he cums (I warned you all)

a/n: So I finished writing this and then made this silly little textpost and uh. people liked it a lot so i'm proud to present you the basis for it. Just wanna say from the bottom of my heart Bob Reynolds is a little shit from Florida and yes he IS mostly submissive and he DOES whimper during sex but he is NOT an innocent baby boy and he CAN and DOES fuck. Okay rant done enjoy the sex.

You spend the next few minutes wrapped up in each other’s arms in the dim lamplight, kissing and giggling and just being together. It’s intimate, a kind of safety Bob hasn’t felt maybe ever. It's exhilarating, like something out of a dream. You’re really here, kissing him, touching him, wanting him. The thought just plays over and over in his mind. He’s so preoccupied by you, he’s barely aware of the growing hardness in his pants. Which you quickly become aware of.

You pull away mid-kiss, and Bob furrows his brow, worried he did something wrong. Even in the darkness, he can see the confusion on your face. “Um, Bob…” you trail off, not sure how to point it out. Then it hits him.

“Oh!” he scrambles back, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap. “I am so sorry, that, I did not mean to do that, I-”

“Bob.” you chuckle, a reassuring smile on your face. “It’s okay. I was just…surprised.” Bob laughs nervously in response, still clutching the pillow. 

“Do you want to?” Bob tilts his head at your question.

“Want, want to what?”

“Have sex, Bob.” you say, flat out. You’re never one to beat around the bush, you get straight to the point. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

Still, his brain needs a moment to catch up to what’s happening around him. “Oh, um, do you? Want to?”

You nod. “We don’t have to, I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into-”

“I do!” he exclaims. “Want to. Have sex with you. Now. If you want to.”

You just smile, crawling over to his side of the bed. You unclasp his fingers from the pillow, taking its place in his lap. On instinct he wraps his arms around your waist, resting them just barely on the small of your back. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to touch you, or should be. You kiss his jaw, gentle and soft, testing the waters. Bob’s breath catches as you do so, and you continue, trailing down his jawline to his neck, pausing at the conjunction of his neck and shoulder, where you begin sucking a bruise into the skin.

Bob releases a broken moan, his hands gripping onto your hips. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and get a sense of just how big he is. The Sentry Project changed a lot about him, you know that. It’d crossed your mind that it might have affected him down there, but it still surprises you just a bit. Or maybe he’d always been like this. He’s just as incredible to you, powers or not.

Satisfied with yourself, you pull away from Bob’s neck, grinning at the darkening bruise forming there. He moves a hand from you to touch it, as if he’s making sure it’s real. You take his hand in yours, placing it on your face. 

He looks up at you with a hungry gaze, before moving in to devour you once again. Robert Reynolds kisses like a man starved, gorging himself on your affection for fear it’ll vanish once more. You hold him tight, kiss him back as hard as you can. A reassurance, a promise that you’re not going anywhere, not now, not ever if you had it your way.

“Take your clothes off,” you pant out between kisses. It’s not meant to be an order, but Bob certainly takes it as one, immediately rushing to pull off his baggy sweatshirt, followed quickly by his t-shirt underneath. Bob is the last guy anyone would expect to be jacked, but here he is.

You run a hand along the line of his abs, Bob shivering under your touch. “You’re beautiful, y’know?” you whisper, kissing his cheek as you squeeze his shoulder. He chuckles, nervously muttering something under his breath. “You are.” you insist, pulling back to face him. “Not because of your body, but because you’re you, okay?”

He nods, gazing up at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for him. You’re not sure how to respond to his look of absolute adoration except to once again kiss him senseless. 

He starts tugging on the hem of your shirt, a request. You’re still in your tactical gear, crumpled and dirty from your mission. You pull back, getting to work on removing your various holsters and hidden knives, Bob assisting you to the best of his ability.

“You have so many knives.” he points out, adding number five to the pile that’s begun forming next to where the two of you sit.

“You never know.” you quip as you find your last one, moving the pile over to Bob’s nightstand as he starts yanking your shirt up.

“Only fair.” he points out with a smirk. You raise your arms over your head, allowing him to tug off your suit, leaving just your bra covering your top. You reach behind yourself to unclip it, only for Bob to swat your hand away. “I got it.” he insists, taking only a moment as he unfastens it, tossing it somewhere in the room.

He takes a second to take in the view, his mouth hangs open in the shape of a smile, not sure whether to gape or cheer. He quickly puts his mouth to better use, kissing a trail down your collarbone to your breasts, one hand on each pressing them together as he lavishes them.

“Can I eat you out?” Bob’s voice interrupts the silence, peering up at you from between your breasts. “I-I’m not that great, but I want to try. Please.”

You nod, rolling off of him and laying on your back while Bob settles himself between your legs, busying himself with tugging your pants off. “Have you done this before?”

“Hm?” he snaps out of his focus at the sound of your voice. “Oh, yeah, I just, never really got to do it properly, y’know? Take my time.” He tosses your pants away, fingers hooking under your underwear before pausing. “Do you still want to?”

“Bob, I want you between my legs five minutes ago.” he grins and yanks off your underwear, not even tearing his eyes away from your pussy. Even hidden beneath his shaggy brown hair you can see his dark blue eyes are blown out with lust, lingering carnal desire evident on his face.

Bob doesn’t bother with words. He just goes to work, gripping your thighs in his large hands and licking a stripe up your cunt as you moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he begins to lap at you. It’s messy, imprecise, but god it feels so good. He’s learning, noticing what gets the most reaction and keeping it up. He sees how your breath catches when he just barely flicks his tongue against your clit, filing it away for later. 

“Fuck, Bob, baby…” you pant, gripping his hair like a lifeline. “Not great my ass, you liar…”

Bob interrupts your jokes by sucking on your clit, earning another sudden moan from you before he stops suddenly, perking his head up. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Hell yeah.” you manage to breathe out. He nods and lowers his head back down, this time moving his hand from where it digs into your thigh to swipe through the wetness of your folds. He coats his index finger in your arousal, looking straight in your eyes as he licks it off. 

“You taste so good.” you mumbles as he slowly inserts his finger into you, a choked out moan escaping your throat. Bob’s a big guy, and more than once you’ve imagined those massive hands of his fingering you. Reality is ten times better than any fantasy.

He starts slowly, putting what he's learned into practice and continuing to alternate licking and sucking at your clit while he presses his finger in and out of you. You jerk against his grip, back arching as he hits that perfect spot within you. His grip on your thigh just tightens, and he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “I got you.” he mutters, adding another finger and speeding up his pace, making sure to hit the spot that seems to make you go wild. It works, judging from the strings of expletives and moans that continue to escape you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening as you writhe under Bob’s touch, every move sending licks of fire through your body. “Bob, Bob, ‘m so close, baby, please…”

Bob cuts you off with a moan between your legs, the vibrations reverberating through you, pushing you closer to your high. His eyes shut in pleasure as he devours you, the sound of you moaning out his name better than any high he’s ever felt.

“‘So close, Bob, please…” 

He takes it as a sign, sucks on your clit even harder, opening his eyes so he can watch you fall apart under him. And you do, crying out his name, one hand with a death grip on his hair and the other gripping the pillows so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t exploded into feathers. 

He keeps it up through your orgasm, slowing down the pace of his fingers and switching from sucking to gentle licks on your clit as you come down. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bob,” you pant, gazing down at the man between your legs.

“Did I do good?” he asks, his voice earnest and hopeful. It’s quite the contrast, the feeling of ecstasy still buzzing in the bones, the sight of your slick all over his chin, compared to the genuine worried look in his eyes as he asks the question.

“Yes, Bob, that was good.” you half-laugh. “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in a long time.”

He grins, satisfied with his work. “Nice.” he crawls up your body, gingerly pressing a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him, the flavor driving you even crazier, making you more desperate for him. You lightly tug on his lower lip, earning a deep groan from Bob.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” he mumbles, the kiss becoming a collision of lips and teeth, the two of you stick with saliva and arousal. “You’re so perfect, and you want me.”

“Want you so bad, Bob.” you mutter into his mouth between kisses. “Want your cock, please.”

He moans, pulling away to look at your face, eyes dark with lust, lips kiss-swollen and wet, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Say it again.”

“God, need your pretty cock inside of me, Bob, baby, please-” he’s smashing his lips against yours again, one hand working on tugging his sweatpants off. He sits up, you joining in assisting him. He pulls his boxers down with them as he finally rids himself of the wretched garments, his cock laying hard and leaking against his perfect abs. It’s better than you could’ve imagined, long and girthy, veins running along it. A small part of you worries about walking tomorrow, but the part of your brain that is so goddamn horny overrules it.

“I got a condom somewhere, I think.” he’s saying, although you barely register it as you stare at his length.

“You’re good!” you snap out of it, Bob turning back to you. “I’m all clean, IUD, you’re good.” you clear your throat, a bit awkwardly, “I’m not planning on being with anyone else, so…”

“Oh my god,” Bob grins, settling himself back on the bed before pulling you into his lap, “I’m clean too, and I don’t want anyone but you. You’re perfect.” he presses a kiss to your temple.

You chuckle as you recall something. “Remember how John was saying we should ride you into the sky?”

Bob looks confused, but nods. You lean in, whispering in his ear. “This is what I was imagining.”

His hands grip your hips, a stuttered breath escaping against your shoulder. He can barely get the words, “oh yeah?” out.

“Yeah.” you whisper, nipping at his neck, before pressing a kiss to it.

He’s hot against your aching cunt as you raise your hips, aligning yourself with his hardened cock. The pre-cum leaking from his tip mixing with the abundance of arousal dripping between your thighs. “Y-you ready? I know it’s kinda a lot, I mean, it always was, and then Sentry, well-”

“Bob, you’re perfect.” you look him right in the eyes, giving him a kind smile, as if he’s not about to fuck you raw. “I want you. All of you.”

He nods, clearly psyching himself up. He’s had flings before, and he knows he’s a lot to take. The Sentry Project enhanced all of him, and he’s doing his best not to hurt you. “Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?” You nod, and with a sharp inhale you begin to lower yourself, the head of his cock breaching your entrance. You gasp, and he pauses, making sure you’re okay. You just nod fervently, unable to form sentences at the feel of him stretching you out. It’s a little painful, which you expected, but the pleasure far outweighs the fact that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You continue, brow furrowed in concentration, whimpers escaping Bob beneath you at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing around him.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, hooooly shit,” he groans as he shuts his eyes in pleasure, doing his best not to cum when he’s only halfway in you, “you’re so fucking tight, oooh my god, are you okay?” 

You nod, nails digging into his shoulders as you pause, trying to adjust to the feel of him in you. Even only halfway, the stretch is more than you’ve ever had before, and it feels fucking incredible. You start to understand the meaning of being cockdrunk for the first time. 

With a final groan, you settle on Bob’s lap, his cock sheathed in you completely, panting at the feel of you around him. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, head hanging in the crook of your neck. For a few moments, the only sound is your intertwined breaths, your bodies hot and slick with sweat against one another as you sit there.

You roll your hips experimentally, a small moan escaping at the sensation. Bob’s head rolls back against the headboard, his grip on you even tighter than before. You’re gonna have bruises of his handprint for days.

You start slowly, rising and lowering onto his thick length. “Fuck, Bob…” you moan, eyes rolling back as you lose any sense of time and place, the only thing left the feeling of Bob’s body pressed against yours, Bob’s cock splitting you open as you bounce in his lap. 

“You’re gonna kill me, fuck…” he groans into your neck as you quicken your pace, the need for him growing. He bites on your collarbone as another moan escapes his chest, thrusts quickening. He kisses the spot he’s marked, sucking a bruise into it. “You’re so good, so perfect…”

“All yours, Bob.” you pant, one hand turning his face to look at you. “I’m all yours, baby.”

The sound Bob makes borders on animalistic, a whine escaping his lips as he kisses you, sloppy and desperate. “I’m yours,” he murmurs against your lips, “I’m yours forever.”

The lewd sound of wet skin slapping echoes throughout his room interspersed with Bob’s whines and your cries. You look like an angel above him, the golden light illuminating your glassy eyes as you moan with pleasure, your tits bouncing with each movement. You can already feel your second orgasm coming, and from the expletives escaping Bob, he’s fast approaching his as well. And then you notice.

“I-is something wrong? You okay?” Bob murmurs, noticing your confused expression.

“Y-your eyes, Bob, fuck…” 

He doesn’t even realize till now that his eyes are glowing. It’s another thing the Sentry Project changed about him. It happens when he gets too caught up in something, uses his powers, gets frustrated or angry. He’d never realized it happened in situations like this. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he tells you, clenching his jaw as he tries to hold it together, his eyes buzzing with light, the lamps in the room’s brightness going in and out. “Should I-where should I-”

“In me.” you moan you rapidly bounce yourself up and down, “fuck, Bob, fill me up, please!”

“So good to me, so pretty,” he murmurs as he desperately tries to hold out from his high, his grip on you bruising, quickly losing control of himself as he unwinds. “I’m gonna give you everything. It’s all yours, baby, all for you.”

“Fuck, yes, Bob! Please, please please please-” your babbling moans end with a last scream of his name as you cum, cunt clenching around him as you take him as deep as possible, pelvises flush against each other. Something about the golden glow of his irises, the low rasp in his voice, the words themselves, it all sends you crashing over the edge, an incoherent, animalistic noise escaping you as you cling to Bob, pressing your forehead up against his.

 Bob whimpers, the glow from his eyes illuminating your face as you cum, the way your eyes roll back, the debauched expression you wear. It’s enough to send him over the edge, his eyes buzzing with light as he cums. With a cry of your name, Bob tumbles over the edge, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You feel the warm spurts of his cum within you, painting your insides, claiming you for himself. The two of you sit there, panting and sweating as you come down.

“Oh my, fucking god, that was amazing.” he looks up at you, a tired, fucked out expression on his face. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you.” you smile, removing your nails from where they’ve left red crescents on Bob’s shoulder blades, moving to cup his cheek. “So good to me, baby.”

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, one hand running down to your waist. 

You shake your head. “Well, I can’t really feel my legs, but I did expect that, so…”

“Sorry.” he says, though that smile on his face says otherwise. He’s proud of himself.

“‘S alright.” you sigh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He whines, shifting his head to kiss you properly. He’s still inside of you, and you can feel his cock, still semi-hard within you. Even after two orgasms, you look up at him and want more, wanting to feel him, for the feeling of his skin on yours to never leave. “I could go again, honestly.”

“Really?” he laughs, a little surprised at both your stamina and the fact that you still want him. He sighs, one hand running along your jaw as he feels himself already growing hard once again. “I can’t say no to you.”

“So, yes to round two?”

“If I ever say no to that question, shoot me.” he grins, wrapping his arms around your hips as he rolls you both over, his cock staying in you the whole time. “How’s this?”

You yelp a little from the change in position, landing on your back and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders once again. 

You’re still sensitive from your first two orgasms, and Bob is aware of that.“I got you.” he whispers into your shoulders, rolling his hips gently. “I’ll take care of you. Promise.” He goes slowly, his eyes locked on yours as you pant under him, head falling back against the pillows.He kisses you again, hungry and desperate, as he sets his pace, dragging his cock out before pushing back in once again. Bob is gentle with you, considerate, a man with the power of a thousand suns turned docile above you.

“So many dirty dreams about you, baby, you’re so much better than any of ‘em.” Bob mutters into your shoulder. He looks up at you, a little unsure, although his pace doesn't change. “Is this a dream? Are you here?”

“I’m here, Bob.” you moan, giving him a small smile as you run a hand through his hair. “I-fuck! I’m here.”

You look like heaven, messy hair framing your face, mouth gaping, eyes shut as you throw your head back. You’re all he wants, everything he needs. He could stay here forever, taking care of you, fucking you, whatever you want. Just as long as you neer stop giving him those sweet smiles, screaming out his name just like that as he fucks you.

“Bob,” you call his name in a breathy whisper, “more, please, baby.”

He nods, speeding up his thrusts, pushing into you with more force. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you pull him deeper into you. He breaks eye contact to look down at where your bodies connect, gazing at the sheen of your arousal around his cock, the white ring forming at the base of it. A mixture of both of your cum spurts out around where he’s entering you, and the sight somehow manages to make him even harder.

He’s moaning again, and before you know it his hands are on your face, pulling you up to kiss him as his thrusts grow harder and shallower, barely pulling out before slamming his full length back into you. “Fuck, Bob, yes, just like that, yes!” You scream at the sensation. You couldn’t give a fuck if the others hear when Bob Reynolds is on top of you, pounding his pretty cock into you, whispering dirty nothings in your ear.

One hand leaves your face and returns to the spot between you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit. “Come on, baby, give it to me, please.” he practically begs, dark blue eyes once again shining above you. “Need you to cum for me, come on my cock, please.” You do as he says, the coil in your stomach snapping once more, ecstasy washing over you, your cunt clenching around Bob’s length. Bob curses, pressing his lips against yours as he thrusts as deep as possible, filling you up with his cum once again.

“Fuck.” you groan, barely able to lift your head. “That was cool. The eye thing.” 

“I didn’t know I did that.” he admits, rolling off of you. A small gasp escapes him as he watches his cum spill out of you, sticky and wet between your thighs. “You just look so perfect full of me.”

You smile, taking a deep breath as Bob quickly runs to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel that he uses to wipe you down. “Y’know, I never took you for a talker.”

“What, during sex?” he asks, as if he’s not literally wiping his cum off of you.

“Sex takes some of your brain cells out of you, huh?” you joke, sitting up on your elbows.

Bob chuckles, giving a small shrug. “I think that’s just what you do to me.”

After he’s carried you to the bathroom to pee, gotten you a glass of water, you settle yourself on his bare chest, running your finger along his collarbone as he shuts out the lights.

“You’re amazing.” you tell him between yawns, your eyes closing, exhausted by your activities. “Even if I can’t sit for a week.” you mutter, and then you’re out, breathing slowing as you drift off.

Bob ust smiles at the sight of you, resting against his chest, comfortable and content. Never in a million years did he think he’d have something like this. A home in the tower, a family in the team, and a love in you. “You’re perfect” he says to no one, pressing one last kiss to your hair as he wraps an arm around you, shutting his eyes for the night. “And all mine.”

[i2sunric]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 (l.hs)

PAIRING: heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: due to a storm, his parents are stuck in a motel for the night while you are stuck at his house. with wi-fi not working, heeseung can’t think of anything better than recreating the scenes of your smutty books.

WARNINGS: established relationship, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), fingering, standing sex (?), missionary, pussy eating, masturbation, dirty talking, blowjob, oral (m and f receiving), rough sex, chocking, i lied about the doggy style, pet names (angel, baby), lmk if more, NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 13th August 2024

WC: 3.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey (oneshot) @trizdoniki @love4hee @strayy-kidz @baribaaari @shirizula @astratlantis @jaeyungxrl @heestarry @heeseungismymanz @mitmit01 @rayofsunshineeee @heesexual74 @deezbin @jakeswifez @nikiswifiee @hqqj @diorfmu @isa942572 @yjwluvs @norihoyeon @starggukies @shiningnono @sunpov @iamliacamila @strawberrhypen @gnvi-eve @wildflowermooon @kaykay11sworld @erenswifesposts @star-hoon @aubaee @lvnglysunoo @heebear @enhypenlovre BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

a/n: honestly the intro sucks and so does the outro but i swear the smut is GOOD. literally 3k words of filthy porn ngl. enjoy lol. please LIKE & REBLOG to spread and let me knows your thoughts 💗

What was supposed to be a cozy Thursday night ended up in you being forced to stay at Heeseung’s house for the night.

Forced? Not really, you enjoyed the excuse of spending more time with your boyfriend. Because of a flooding caused by the storm outside, you weren’t able to go back home.

But neither were his parents, who were supposed to have a nice date and ended up being blocked by the horrible weather.

The sound of the raindrops tapping against the window filled the room as Heeseung turned off the shower.

You were laying on his bed with your back to the wall as you peacefully read your book, thankful that your sixth sense made you bring it.

Heeseung entered the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist while he used another to dry his damp hair.

“Reading still?” He asked, nudging the book with toe. “Ew.” You stated, pushing his foot away “And yes.”

Heeseung just chuckled and moved to get his clothes from the drawer “Heard from your parents?”

He hummed “I called them before showering, they said they’ll stay at a motel,” He put his boxers on “But before they could say more, the line cut off.”

You threw a glance at the window “This storm is going to destroy a lot of things.”

Heeseung struggled to put on shorts and then rounded the bed, the mattress lowering where his weight was.

“I bet they’re having some wild sex right now.” You joked, flipping another page of your book.

Heeseung pinched your side “Ew? I don’t really want to think about my parents going at it.” He laughed, laying down beside you.

“Careful, you might have a brother soon.” You joked again, earning another gentle pinch.

A couple of minutes passed by and Heeseung groaned “Wi-fi doesn’t work.” He threw his phone at the end of the bed. “I can’t play games.”

“Poor you.” You cooed, caressing the hand he had placed on your hip, his chest pressed against your back.

“Can’t you put your book down and give me attention?” You could hear the pout in his voice “No boy, I’m at an important point.”

“Evil.” Heeseung murmured as he settled into a more comfortable position, strangely not going anywhere to do something else.

You felt his hand on your side, relaxed as well as his breath even. ‘He must’ve fallen asleep’, You thought, as you flipped another page of your book, unable to stop your eyes from reading the scene unfolding before you.

If Heeseung was to casually open his eyes and read even one line of the chapter, he would certainly make fun of you.

Who even reads smut in their boyfriend’s bed?

You felt his hand flex on your stomach but you didn't really mind, he would always move uncontrollably when asleep— sometimes, even kicking you.

As your mind proceeded the words written down on paper, your body reacted to it, almost unconsciously.

You could feel your core pulse in need, your body temperature raising and at the same time goosebumps appeared on your skin.

It always happened, you couldn’t help the way your imagination wandered with the characters of the book, the tension and the way they cared for each other. It was all too tempting, you could feel your stomach fill with butterflies.

But your boyfriend was sleeping and you didn’t want to disturb him, knowing he already had troubles falling asleep — the reason why he always stayed up late to play games —, so you kept quiet.

You felt Heeseung shift behind you, the hand on your stomach circling your waist until he was able to pull you against his chest, his breath hot against your ear.

You held your breath as he changed position, not making any sudden movement while he used you like you were a teddy bear.

Gulping down, you waited a few beats before focusing your attention back on the chapter.

It’s not like you and Heeseung had never gone further than third base, but it was always so… vanilla.

You longed for someone to use you for your own pleasure, to talk you through your multiple orgasms, to mark you up and manhandle you like a doll.

But you would never have the courage to confess that to Heeseung.

Yes, you two had been together for almost a year and half though you weren’t ready to open up to your contorted fantasies. Afraid that he may run away, you loved him too much for that.

So, you hid in your imagination, burying your nose in books that filled the void inside of you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you tried to calm the fire igniting your bones, but your hips shifted uncomfortably, the ache between your legs too strong to be ignored.

Suddenly, Heeseung spoke to your ear, voice low and husky “You want to show me too?” You jolted and closed the book, catching your finger in middle, hissing at the pain.

You turned your face around and caught his gaze, something different inside it. Something primal.

“I-I thought you were sleeping.” You said, blinking faintly and Heeseung smirked, “I was reading with you.”

He reached the book from your hand and like a fool, you let him take it. He opened the page where you had left your finger in and cleared his throat “He looked at her with a strange urge, his attention gliding to her face,” He started reading.

“His voice was low when he said ‘Show me, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone in the middle of the night’.”

The heat that was once in your stomach moved to your cheeks, embarrassment coating your expression.

“It’s just a chapter, I was skipping it.” You tried to reach back for your book but he held it up, sitting “Ah, lying is bad, Y/N.”

Heeseung’s smirk was cocky “You seemed pretty into it.” You scoffed, “Give it back.”

Your boyfriend was clearly enjoying it, the way you blushed and the flustered look on your face. He licked his bottom lip and eyed you up and down.

Only when you lowered your gaze, unable to meet his, did you notice the hard-on he was sporting. Was he enjoying it the same way you were?

“There’s no wi-fi.” He stated, “And my parents aren’t home, don’t you think we should occupy our time?”

This side of him was something you had never seen, perhaps, had he the same hidden likings as yours? Looked like you were about to find out.

“How?” You asked, your voice hoarse, barely yours. Heeseung glanced back at the page and said “Take off your shorts.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, “W-What?” And he just chuckled darkly “Do you think I didn’t notice your body language, mh? Do you think I didn’t see how you were craving… this?” He raised the book.

“Now, take off your shorts or I’ll have to do it myself.” Normally, you would comply, but you were feeling bold, adrenaline shooting in your veins, so you said instead, “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, his brow raised. He placed the book on the bed and crawled towards you as you backed away until your back hit the headboard.

He kept eye contact while his fingers hooked around your shorts, and instead of his usual slow pace, he yanked them off.

You gasped at the sudden force, soon enough your shorts were laying on the floor “Isn’t this what you want?” He questioned.

“You want someone to dominate you, uh? To show you what’s your place?” Your whole body shivered from his words as you mindlessly nodded.

“All this time I’ve been gentle, afraid to make you uncomfortable,” He gripped your panties “But all you wanted was to be fucked, hard, isn’t it?” He ripped them off you, the sound of fabric stretching making you gasp again.

He smirked and threw the messy fabric on the floor, with your shorts “So, I’ll follow what you like.” He pointed at the book resting on the duvet “Play with yourself.”

You widened your eyes. Heeseung’s behaviour was different from his usual one, though you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Lord, you were drenched just from his words and he could see it, the way your juices coated your pussy, spread in front of him.

You gulped and slowly moved your hand down, reaching your clit which you started circling.

A soft hum escaped your lips at the sweet feeling and you watched him, his gaze so primal and full of lust as he took in the sight of you touching yourself.

Just a few beats passed before he asked “You know what she does now, right?” And you nodded, lifting your hand up to his lips. He hummed and took them inside his mouth, his warm tongue twirling around your digits.

The taste of you, even if it was just brief, was enough to make his head spin, so delicious and intoxicating.

You removed them “Let me watch while you fuck yourself.” He said and was suddenly aware of your position. Of how open you were in front of him, your folds clenching around nothing.

Heeseung raised an impatient brow and you hurried to coat your fingers in your juices, rubbing them against your entrance before thrusting one inside.

You moaned, your fingers brushing against your g-spot right away, given all the times you’d done this.

Heeseung licked his bottom lip, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth, on his tongue. He could feel his shorts grow tighter by the minute, his desire for you overtaking any rational thought.

“One more baby, I know you can take it.” He urged and you complied, adding a second digit to your ministration.

Heeseung let out a groan, his eyes locked on you as you brought pleasure to yourself. He quickly took the book back in his hands and flicked the page, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Yeah, bet you’ll like this.” He said as he pushed himself down the bed and took you by the back of your thighs, tilting your body until it was pending at the edge of the bed.

You stopped your movements and pulled your fingers out with a ‘POP’ sound, resting on your elbows to look down at him “Hee?”

“Don’t worry, angel.” He pried your legs open, his breath fanning on your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes “Just need to taste your sweet pussy.”

And then you felt it, the swipe of his tongue across your folds, your mind clouding from the pleasure as soft gasps escaped your lips.

Heeseung ate you like a starved man, alternating sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue, his strong grip prevented you from squirming around.

You rocked your hips against his mouth, needing to chase the pleasure building inside your lower belly.

You reached a hand and placed it on his head, your fingers tangling in his locks, “Mh, that’s it, angel.” He murmured, “Fuck my tongue.”

And so you followed his orders, moving with deep and slow thrusts, just enough to send jolts of pleasure through your jody as Heeseung stuck his warm tongue inside of you.

Soon, your movements grew sloppier and faster, your lips parted “I’m— I’m gonna—“ And before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm hit you, making your back arch off the bed, your legs shaking.

“This was so hot, baby.” Heeseung pressed a few more kitten licks on your clit before raising himself, caressing your thighs with his thumbs.

You looked up at him, your breath still uneven from the great amount of pleasure he had put you in.

He gave you a small smirk before reaching behind you and taking your forgotten book back. He flipped the pages “Spoiler, she gives him a BJ.” He said.

You chuckled, your body now recovered as you sat up “And you don’t want it?” You batted your eyelashes.

Heeseung took a steady breath. “Don’t tempt me.” He quickly searched further one the book, scanning lines and as he found something he liked, he pointed at it, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“As much as I love feeling your mouth around me, I want to feel you whole.” He murmured.

You sat up, crawling towards him to the edge of the bed “Maybe I want to.”

His breath caught in his throat, your vicinity and your words going straight to his cock “The way she does.”

Heeseung went back to the chapter where it all started, scanning the lines until he read “After making her see stars, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, his gaze dangerous. ‘Your moans were so sweet, darling.’ He murmured, lowering his jeans and boxers, his cock sprung free.” He paused to gulp.

“He took the back of her head and moved her ‘till her neck bent in an awkward position, his red tip brushing against her lips.” He lowered the book.

“Is this how you want it? Rough?” Heeseung questioned and you nodded “Might as well follow the script.” You shrugged.

A low groan built in his throat, you tugged the hem of his shirt “This off?” Your eyes glistened with fake innocence.

Heeseung swiftly worked his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. It’s not like you had never seen him without a shirt on, you were used to him during beach dates or pool parties, but it was always so breathtaking.

Heeseung smirked, noticing the way your hungry stare was studying his chest. In the blink of an eye his shorts joined his shirt, his cock hard and angry, some pre-cum smeared over the tip.

“Be a good girl and open up for me,” He murmured as he climbed on the bed, his hand clutching the headboard to keep himself steady.

You quickly laid down, his hips hovering on your face. You looked up at him, doe-eyes looking ever so pure… And then you took him all in your mouth.

Heeseung threw his head back at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, your head bobbing back and forth.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, his eyes meeting yours “So good, always so good.”

He caressed your cheek, his thumb grazing gently your skin as his hips bucked, meeting your pace.

He then pulled out, making you frown which was soon transformed when his lips met yours.

You could feel his cock twitching between your breasts, one of his hands squeezing it as his lips claimed yours.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, both of your tongues moving together, his spit down your throat.

He was delaying his orgasm, you noted, because he would’ve cum just from a few licks of yours.

And then he pulled his lips away from yours to thrust his throbbing length inside your mouth again “Mh… Yes— Shit. You’re so good, angel. Mouth made just for me.” He praised as he moved.

You hummed, sending waves of pleasure all through his body.

You gripped his thighs, bobbing your head faster, desperate to bring him the pleasure he deserved.

Heeseung understood and gripped the headboard with both of his hands, his hips thrusting inside of your warm and wet mouth. He hit the back of your throat, making you gag “I’m so close.” He breathed out.

At his words, you ignored the burning sensation building in your throat and hollowed your cheeks, with a few more thrusts he was emptying himself with a groan.

When he pulled out, you licked any drop of cum that spilled out your mouth and hummed happily.

Heeseung chuckled, leaning down again to capture your lips in a messy but loving kiss.

You playfully bit his bottom lip and he pulled away, yelping “Brat.”

You smiled at him and sat up, your voice just briefly hoarse “What happens next?”

Heeseung’s gaze darkened but his words were serious “You sure you want to continue?” He sighed softly, “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled reassuringly and beckoned to the book “Time to change chapter.”

Heeseung let out a quiet groan, his cock visibly twitching “He fucks her against the wall.” He narrated what he had read “Hard, hand around her throat… is that what you want?”

Just the idea of doing it that way had you drenched down there, a shiver ran along your spine “Yes, Hee.” You breathed out, and to emphasise you add “I need it.”

“My nasty girl.” He practically growled as he got up from the bed, taking you with him and slammed you against the wall of his bedroom.

You yelped when your back hit the cold surface, the tapping of the raindrops on the window your background music.

Heeseung claimed your lips again as one of his hands snuck to squeeze your backside, his fingers kneading it.

You could again feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, its warmth infecting your core.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you,” He whispered on you throat “To have you milk my cock as I take you so hard you can’t say a coherent word.”

You rocked your hips against his, a clear effect of his words, your arms wrapped around his neck.

As if you weighed nothing, he raised you and you wrapped your legs around his sculpted waist.

Without any warning except for the aligning of his cock, he slammed deep inside of you, making you moan out.

Heeseung wasn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen, but he surely was the longest. You could feel him so deep, he could probably even reach your stomach if he tried hard enough.

You gripped the back of his neck like your life depended on it as he moved without any mercy, pulling all the way out until the tip just to slam back in, knocking the air out of your lungs.

He snuck one hand between your breasts and reached your throat, wrapping it around it. He gripped, not enough to choke you but good enough to make you light-headed.

His cock pounded hard into you, driving your brain into nothing but a puddle of his name, the one you screamed and moaned.

Your nails dug into his shoulders and he grunted, rewarding you with a deeper thrust, one you can almost feel in your centre, where the familiar knot was tightening.

Your eyes rolled back, just moans and whimpers escaping your lips.

Heeseung removed the hand from your throat and gripped your neck instead, letting your lungs that were screaming in protest fill with air up to their capacity.

He moved so your forehead pressed against his, both of you panting in each other’s mouth, your pussy clenching around him.

He groaned, he put one of his hands on the wall to steady himself as his hips kept bucking fast on yours, the sound of skin slapping mixing up with the rain’s.

“Is this what you like, baby?” Heeseung asked, moving his face to gently nip on your neck.

Your whole body felt sensitive from the attention he was giving it, from his small hickeys to the way he kept hitting your sweet spot “Y-yes.” You croaked out “Feels s’good, fuck.”

Heeseung grinned and stilled, twitching inside of you with a groan.

Before you could even comprehend it, he had you with your back on the mattress, never pulling out of you.

Your legs spread open, eager to feel him in you, to let him claim him.

“Fuck,” He grunted out, his pace never once faltering as he gripped your thighs to help himself, surely there would be marks the next day “Feels like heaven inside of you.”

You answered with a muffled whimper, not sure if your brain could even form out a word anymore.

He leaned on you, chest pressed against chest as he hid his face in the crook of his neck, his hot breath hitting your skin.

You rolled your eyes back, the pleasure building inside of you almost unbearable “Hee..” You breathed out, gripping his forearm to warn him where words couldn’t reach.

“I know,” He murmured, “Me too, baby…”

You cried out as you tried to delay your orgasm the same way he could do, but the pleasure was too much and before you could even try to resist more, you saw white.

Your back arched off the bed and squirmed around, your walls clenching tight around Heeseung who, despite your state, never stopped thrusting.

“Shit— Where do you want it?” He asked, because it was in some ways a first timer. First time going rough, first time going raw.

You couldn’t find your voice, your eyes watery from the impact of your orgasm, so you wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him.

He frowned “Are you— Fuck.” You felt his cum filling you up to the brim, the sensation so sweet a gasp left your lips as he rocked slowly, adrenaline lowering.

After a couple of minutes where neither of you had the energy to move, Heeseung raised himself and offered you a warm smile “How was it?” He questioned as he stood up.

The sight of you, sprawled on his bed with both your seeds running down your thighs was enough to make him pop another boner, which earned him a side eye from you.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Heeseung chuckled, opening one of the drawers to retrieve one of his shirts and helping you in it. He then carefully cleaned you up, dried the sweat running down your forehead and after putting back on his shorts and underwear, he laid beside you.

One of his arms snuck around your shoulder, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead “You’ll have to go commando, since I ripped your panties.” You giggled, hugging him tighter.

“I really enjoyed… this.” Heeseung smirked, “I bet.” He glanced at the book, now resting on the bedside table “Come to me when you start another book, yeah?”

Heeseung absentmindedly squeezed your breast through the shirt “I’ll make sure to recreate it all… even may steal some of the lines.”

Content that he wasn’t going to judge you for your strange likings, rather supporting them, you let yourself be held as the storm outside slowly died, the breeze hitting your skin as you fell asleep, safe in his arms.

[chiya-eltanin]

hm. dont usually put my own two cents for theories but somethings been kind of annoying me recently so yeah. ralsei thoughts.

i really dont like the idea that ralsei is a specific object. especially not with newer stuff from chapters 3 and 4.

For starters, most people that try to figure out what ralsei is in the real world are basing it off of this appearance

however, I feel like there's plenty of evidence to point to this not being his real form, right? People have already pointed out that his original shadowed form isn't fully consistent. It's possibly the most obvious when you compare his singing animations in both forms. His hat form makes what was later 'revealed' to be his ears look more like hair?,

Ears don't really split the same way that hair does, and theres other examples of hatsei having this kind of spikyness to his 'ears' that hatless ralsei doesnt have.

even the fangamer plush makes his ears spiky!!

its a pretty major part of how hatsei looks, and its certainly been talked about before. And then comes chapter 3+4. And we have plenty of evidence that ralsei is a shapeshifter, and I have seen literally nobody talk about it????? huh?????

Oh, and the hat casting a shadow on him makes no fucking sense because he goes onto wear SEVERAL hats in chapter 3 and he's normal????

also I know its like. A funny bit, but HE TURNS INTO A HORSE

WHY THE FUCK WOULD KRIS'S HEADBAND TURN INTO A HORSE???? WHY WOULD A GREEN CRAYON TURN INTO A HORSE???? WHY CAN HE DO THIS????? THIS ISNT A COSTUME THATS NOT HOW THEY WORK????? WHERE WOULD HIS BODY GO.

not to mention that changing shapes was literally his ability in the legend of tenna game???? he plays it off like 'oh every character has abilities i can turn into a box' but he can also turn into a dog? since ralsei was the only one who read the manual it very well could be an ability given to him since the real Ralsei is also a shapeshifter.

It would also explain why ralsei draws himself in his hat form

thats closer to what his natural form is. Dont have any screenshots on hand right now, but he's got two lines in chapter four (if you leave him lying on the ground for too long, and right before they find the first fountain) about how much longer he can 'keep this body for' that make it very obvious that he's only using a form that looks cuter to appeal to us. Him being a shapeshifter would also explain things like

His face being a deliberately made abstraction would also make this interaction make a lot more sense. Pre chapter three, I assumed Ralsei based his face on Asriel to either try appealing to Kris or as fanservice for the player/red soul, however, now that we've slowly started learning more about Ralsei, it's beginning to seem more like Ralsei just wants to have a face and more distinct appearance, like the lightners do. However, because of how dark worlds work, he can only base it off of what already exists, with that already existing 'model' being Asriel, although with modifications to make himself cuter— pink horns and eyes, and his usual glasses. It's why Kris is always quick to point out differences between them, and why Ralsei is embarrassed at being told that they look similar, he didn't have a choice other than be based off something that already exists.

Alright, so Ralsei is a shapeshifter. He still has to have some equivalent in the Light World though, since that's how Dark Worlds work. He was literally about to tell Susie what he was before getting interrupted, and Toby Fox is deliberately dancing around the topic.

However, I think the answer is actually pretty obvious. Ralsei is a being of 'pure darkness', which is why he can exist in any Dark World, unlike Lancer and Rouxls, who need to be objects that 'belong' in their respective worlds. His form is made up by the original dark fountain, and he describes himself as a 'Prince of the Dark'. Characters in the Dark World know about what happens to and around their real world equivalents, but Ralsei in particular seems to be especially aware of all of Susie and Kris's actions and movements. He doesn't need to be brought in by Kris like Lancer and Rouxls do, and he always appears in the Dark World a few moments after Susie and Kris do, while somehow almost always having pretty intimate knowledge of how the world came to be. Ralsei is also the most adamant on being depended on by Lightners, even more than people like Tenna. He talks about how a Darkners role is to be used by Lightners and to make them happy, and his character development in Chapter 3 especially goes into how he wants to be needed and how he's afraid he's slowly developing his own personality, and why he believes darkners shouldn't do that.

So, taking all of that into account, I feel like the most obvious answer for what Ralsei is is a shadow.

He's a literal prince of the dark. It explains why he can shapeshift, since shadows can be made to look like anything— I'm specifically thinking of things like shadow puppets, and why when he gets knocked out he seems to literally disappear, returning to the shadows. A shadow is also the most dependant on light, shadows literally cannot exist without light, or they'll just be darkness. It even explains his empty room.

His insistence that his only role is to help the Lightners, the way that people can never find anything notable about him (asking swatch for specials his suggestion for Ralsei is based purely on how he dresses and Queen literally forgets to get him a cage), and his ability to be in any dark world (since there's literally nowhere without shadows) all seem to point towards Ralsei being a shadow.

Ralsei being a shadow also means he's literally with you in the dark, could probably straight up not exist if the world was plunged into darkness, and also makes him a weaker version of a titan (explaining the 'prince' title. not quite king, but noble nontheless).

[spidermanifested]

another black sails fantheory ive seen around a lot is that silver is jewish, usually specifically sephardic, but despite its prevalence i havent been able to find anybodys actual thesis statements about it. so if there are Essays out there (especially by somebody with more historical-slash-judaism knowledge than i with my meager wiki-crawls) i would love Links

however once again ive pondered a bunch of the stuff ive noticed personally, about mr john "if thats even your real name" silver. and honestly at this point id be kind of surprised if it Wasnt the actual context the writers shaped his character around. everything just seems to come together really neatly

hes impressively literate for his circumstances/time period, and really good at quickly memorizing large amounts of text. a solid religious education could very well explain this

specifically– and this is one of the things that feels like a huge bit of intentional subtext to me– the scene where hes hiding with the lepers and memorizing the urca schedule REALLY seems to evoke someone reading scripture under a prayer shawl

not only does he not know how to cook pork, but does not even seem to know what pork looks like when finished cooking

the pretext flint used to get his crew to hunt down the hamiltons' ship was that it was carrying sephardic riches. this is a completely throwaway detail we learn secondhand, in a story where there are very, very few completely throwaway details

silver speaks at least some spanish. this comes up Once and goes totally unquestioned by everyone around him, likely because they think he just picked it up as a sailor. he almost certainly has not been at sea long enough for this to be the case. speaking ladino as a first language on the other hand would give him a huge leg up (so to speak.) in that department

further point. around the time period of the show, the biggest sephardic community in the world lived in thessaloniki in modern-day greece. it was:

a) one of the most major seaports in the ottoman empire

b) a famous center for learning, which boasted 100% literacy of its jewish population

and c) despite its long and prosperous history under ottoman rule, beginning to decline along with the rest of the empire, for many interconnected reasons, including but not limited to: Problems With the Governments Handling of the Textile Industry (where have we heard that before)

lotta unrest. religious schisms and doomsday prophecies. reactionary groups of overempowered soldiers attacking civilians for stress relief (again. where have we heard that before). people, unsurprisingly, started leaving

so if you did want, against john silvers express wishes. to theorize a backstory for a surprisingly educated stowaway of Mystery Origin, who has Mystery Trauma and doesnt want anybody to know who he is or where he comes from, and which would give a new level of relevance to all the greek stuff that permeates the show (down to the actual name of the thing!), along with containing parallels to several other backstories and events in the show proper,

Well this one make sense i think 👍

[selenepsyche]

Astro Observations with Selene (Part 2)

Undeveloped Capricorns & Aquarians are truly a pain in the ass. Y'all can never hold yourselves accountable for shit. Even if you get proven wrong with factual evidence or witnesses, you still gonna say or do out of pocket shit that don't even make sense. Y'all be wanting to win a argument so bad and act like you know everything when you don't. Is it that hard to say "I was wrong, I apologize"? Someone could accurately predict a stock market crash and you'll bring up shit that happened ten years ago just to prove a point, like just take your L.

The 12th House is truly the house of your hidden enemies. My 12th house is in Aries and my worst betrayals have come from Aries people. In 6th grade, my former Aries best friend randomly switched up on me and bullied me out of jealousy and envy. It sent my mental health into a deep spiral. A few months ago, my former Aries friend flirted with and dated my shitty ex behind my back when we had just broken up, then proceeded to say it isn't a big deal and threatened to beat me up because I went off on her. Long story short, they didn't last because he broke up with her and now she's a miserable bitch.

Scorpio Men are some of the messiest people I've ever met, mainly undeveloped Scorpio men. I would not trust them with your secrets. I wouldn't even tell them how your day went. They gossip more than woman do.

Venus in Virgo men, are there any of you that AREN'T players? Every time I look in the chart of a male celebrity or influencer and see that he has a Venus in Virgo, I don't even be surprised. (Austin Butler, Vinnie Hacker, Anthony Ramos, NICK CANNON). Do you know what all these men have in common? They have all certainly had or was rumored to have cheated on their partner or have flings with multiple women.

Venus in Sagittarius people, y'all have a wide variety in whom y'all would wanna date right? It doesn't matter where they come from, their religion, their culture, their race, maybe even their gender. Especially you Venus in Sag men. Yeah, you like to date every woman under the sun right? I'm wondering how long it's gonna take before I see a Venus in Sag man who hasn't switched partners faster then the time it takes them to change a car's tires in a Nascar race.

4th House Placements need to realize that not every familial problem is yours to solve, especially if you're in a toxic household. I understand you may feel attached to your family, but you have a life to live. Don't forget to put your needs first, you're what's important.

Undeveloped Cancers love playing the victim I swear. Y'all start drama and do shit to hurt people, but when you get confronted you wanna play the victim and whine about it. Stop being pussies.

Pisces Men usually have trouble conveying and stabilizing their emotions. I think it has a lot to do with Pisces being a feminine sign, and society has made it to where men aren't supposed to be too emotional. They think they're supposed to be tough and hard. This can manifest as them having trouble controlling their anger or avoiding conflicts all together, being narcissistic, manipulative, and secretive. Pisces does rule the 12th house after all. Not all Pisces Men are like this of course, but it's something to look out for.

Thank you all for reading this! I truly appreciate all the support. I didn't expect for this one to mainly be about men, yikes, so in the next one I'm doing only women-based observations.

dividers: @omi-resources gifs: Pinterest

© selenepsyche - All Rights Reserved

[clockwayswrites]

Cont. DoMAYn D5 - ch2 p1

masterpost (it's not getting it's on one yet)

Danny considers leaving.

It would be the smart thing to do.

(Which is why Danny knows he won’t do it.)

Mostly it’s because Jason is still clinging to Danny like he’s the thing that brought Jason back to life. He didn’t, he wasn’t, but Danny gets wanting that sense of security. He gets needing someone with a beating heart near after coming back to life.

So instead of leaving, which would be the smart thing, Danny helps Jason drink some more tea and eat one of the oatmeal cookies. At least the snacks were a good idea that Danny actually followed through with.

A slamming car door is loud against the relative silence of the graveyard. It makes Danny flinch. Which makes Jason move. Suddenly, Danny is wrapped up like Jason is trying to protect him. Danny isn’t used to being protected, not anymore. It makes a weird feeling bubble in his stomach that he tries not to think about too hard.

The important part are the two figures sprinting across the damn grave dirt, dressing gowns fluttering behind them like they’re in one of those Gothic horrors that Jazz likes to watch.

“Jason!”

“D-dad!”

“Jason!”

Danny tries to get them up and standing, but Jason’s like a new born calf, all rubbery and boneless. They’re barely up and off the cold earth before a man to rival Jack’s size is barreling into them. Danny does his best to squeeze out of the way without breaking Jason’s hold on his sleeve. (The possum isn’t as lucky and is crushed between the reuniting family.)

“Jason, Jaylad,” The man—Mr. Wayne—sobs the names like a prayer. His hands move over Jason’s face like being able to touch his son again burns, but that at the same time, that if he lets go, Jason will vanish.

Would Danny’s parents feel the same, if they knew he had died?

The older man standing behind the pair has his hand to his mouth, like he’s hoping to keep the tears welling in his eyes tucked away. He tears his way from the pair and over to Danny. Danny flinches at the notice.

Jason’s hand tightens.

“Are you the dear lad who called us?” Oh, it’s the British man, that makes sense.

“Um, yes sir. You guys got here quick!” Danny said.

Now was the time to go, before the questions and comments and shooting. Danny tries to take a little step back, but Jason holds fast. Worst, Danny watches as the older man—Alfie’s—eyes move from him to the dead boi picnic set up to the relatively undisturbed grave.

He watches as the confusion set in.

He has to go.

“Master Bruce,” Alfie murmurs, pulling Mr. Wayne’s attention away from frantically checking over Jason.

Danny watches Mr. Wayne look around with a sinking heart.

Please no. Don’t let them be angry. Don’t let them turn Jason away. Don’t let them.

Mr. Wayne places his hand lightly on the back of Jason’s head.

Danny breaths out. “I—I should go.” Go home where he parents don’t know what he is because they don’t know to ask. Where he can pretend a little longer—

“What’s your name?” Mr. Wayne’s voice is a low rumble, like it belongs somehow in the dark night. It’s oddly comforting.

“Me? I’m no one, just glad that—” Danny cuts himself off as bright green suddenly obscures part of his vision.

“Oh my,” Alfie murmurers while Bruce Wayne just makes a slightly strangled little sound.

Danny sighs, reaches up with his free hand, and plucks the green sticky note from his forehead.

‘His name is Danny Fenton’, the note reads. Great. Now they know his name.

Second note appears as Danny sighs. He doesn’t even get a chance to grab this once before Alfie is plucking it to read.

“Well, that we certainly can do,” he said, a slight tilt of amusement to his lips.

“Alfred,” Mr. Wayne admonishes.

“Master Wayne,” Alfie—Alfred? says back, his own admonishment far more cutting. “Some supernatural force just brought our boy back to us. If it is simply asking us to feed the boy who helped him, I am not going to refuse it.”

Mr. Wayne sighs. “Yes, Alfred.”

[sailorsoons]

Dark Gospel (c.hs)

PAIRING: Vernon x afab reader

SUMMARY: After experiencing what you’re sure is a possession, you try to help Vernon get his old self back. Except - Vernon doesn’t want his old self back and you’re not sure you hate the new Vernon either. 

WC: 12,779

AU: Supernatural, Thriller, It’s Complicated to Lovers

GENRE: Smut, A Little Angst

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Light discussions of morality - Vernon has killed people and reader struggles with the fact that she doesn’t care more than she struggles with him having done that, a handful of silly rituals, lots of talk about spiritual possession, mentions of death, brief but nondescript mentions of violence, some philosophizing, me making a Protestant minister an asshole - sorry, this is not a read on Protestants, it just made sense for the plot, Vernon being a lil scary at times and pretty unsettling, Vernon is a little obsessive but specifically in a I Will Do Whatever You Want I’m A Scary Puppy way, explicit language, sexually explicit content including vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of spit and biting, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms, light breath play/choking. Tbh these two are just… kind of obsessed with one another probably in what would eventually be co-dependant but is not represented here. Also, parts of this are definitely blasphemous like - during the smut scene there’s a lot of religious terms used for description etc. etc so if that bothers you, that’s there. I would classify both of these characters as morally grey, in the grand scheme of things.

A/N: This is the second half of Hello, Darling, despite me swearing I would not write a part II. It is Vernon and the new SVT teaser’s fault. I highly recommend reading the first part of this - I wouldn’t say it can’t be read as a standalone, but it makes more sense with the context of the first fic. 

A/N 2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for beta-reading and calling Vernon Spooky Puppy approximately 15 times.

MASTERLIST | ASK | ▷NOW PLAYING: ASCENSIONISM BY SLEEP TOKEN | READ PREQUEL

WHO MADE YOU LIKE THIS?  WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? SYNAPSES SNAP BACK IN BLISSFUL ANGUISH TELL ME YOU MET ME IN PAST LIVES, PAST LIE PAST WHAT MIGHT BE EATING ME FROM THE INSIDE, DARLING

SALT BURNS YOUR NOSE. You grimace, realizing you’ve knocked over a candle, the grains of salt charring as the flame nearly goes out. You fix the candle, thankful that salt isn’t flammable. Had it been, the entire circle of salt would have gone up in flames, taking the dilapidated building and everyone inside.

Thankfully, there are only two people inside the building. The term people is a bit generous. You’re certainly human, all flesh and bone, mortal to the very soul. The man occupying the center of the circle, on the other hand, you’re not really sure about. 

You glance at Vernon. He’s staring at you the same way he always does, dark eyes like twin flames. He does that a lot now, watching you more intensely than you can ever recall in your years of friendship. You quickly avert your eyes, fighting the shiver that threatens to slither through you.

From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth twitch. Of course he notices the way he affects you. He notices everything about you - swears that he always has, but isn’t afraid to be more obvious now. You’re not sure the validity of that statement, but Vernon seems to enjoy the effect he has on you, and he’s not shy to tell you so.

For now, he keeps it to himself. You’re grateful, standing and walking the circle of salt to make sure it’s intact while you try not to think about all the other times you’ve salted around him. This is your fourth attempt this month, and though you know Vernon can’t cross the salt, it doesn’t seem to do anything else but serve as a messy - and expensive - sort of cage. 

Prior to that, your experience with salt and Vernon had been at his apartment that night a few weeks ago when the strange murders in your town had all started to make sense - it had been Vernon eliminating the town of its adulterers. Vernon has agreed to stop that for now, and though most people might not believe the recent college student turned serial killer, you do believe him.

The only thing Vernon seems unequivocally dedicated to these days is you and fulfilling your every demand. 

Which is how he ended up in a salt circle now for what must be the eighth ritual you have put him through in a matter of weeks.

Dusting your hands off, you observe your work. You’ve tried salt circles and candles a few times - it had been what you used the night of Vernon’s possession after all - but you’ve tweaked the ritual each time.

Each time is unsuccessful. 

Vernon watches you with hungry eyes, leaning back on his palms. His legs are crossed casually, entirely at ease. The only part of him that appears dialed in is his eyes, tracking your every movement, a predator tuned in to its prey. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, turning to your backpack on the floor. 

“Like what?”

“You know like what.”

“Like I want to taste you again?” Your stomach flips and your grip tightens on the notebook you pull from your bag. “Fine, I will try not to look at you like that. Proceed with your little ritual.”

“You agreed to it, you know?”

“Like I said.” He sighs, rolling his head back so that he’s staring at the ceiling. “Your wish is my command. And it’s not going to work - I’m just me. Nothing to get rid of.”

“Well ‘just you’ can’t cross a line of salt, the lights flicker when you get mad, and you make dogs and cats go berzerk. So that can’t be true.”

“It’s my new salt allergy. Maybe it’s you the animals don’t like, hmm?” 

“Vernon.”

He’s grinning at you when you look at him, that ravenous gaze just as present on his face. “It’s a joke, Love. Feel free to laugh at your convenience.” 

Love. Not Lovecraft, like he used to call you, but something new and with weight to it, something intimate, said with a velvet purr that makes your hands sweat. Not darling like the spirit that had - and still might be - possessing him.

You think he is still possessing him, anway. Vernon insists that it’s just him with a new edge, forever changed by that night on Halloween. You cannot imagine it’s just Vernon and not the spirit of the murderer Thomas inside of him. Why else would Vernon have killed those people? Why else would he not be able to cross salt? Why else would strange things happen around him, like flickering lights and eerie feelings? 

The way he looks at you makes you want to implode. He watches you with a new sharpness now, desire written all over his face at all times. He’s looking at you like that now, gaze half-lidded and heady. You ignore him in favor of scanning your scrawled script on the paper, memorizing the words you’re supposed to chant. You nod and toss the journal back onto your bag, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before standing in front of the circle. 

Vernon cocks his head up to gaze at you. He looks beautiful like this, his long, silky lashes framing his dark eyes. His face is flickering in shadow from the candles, equal parts demon and angel. Again, you fight the urge to shiver. Instead, you begin walking clockwise, careful not to break the line of salt.

Voice wavering, you whisper, “By salt of earth and flame of will, I break your hold, I bind, I still.” 

A chill seeps into the room. You do shiver this time, not from Vernon watching you, but because of the drop in temperature. The kind that feels like breath on the back of your neck. Goosebumps break out on your arms as you go. Upon a complete rotation, you continue the chant but lean down to extinguish a candle each time you reach it, not daring to look at Vernon each time you bend down to blow on it gently. You swear the shadows stretch just a little longer every time the flame dies, curling like fingers at the edge of your vision.

When you reach the final candle, you risk a glance upward. You’re right in front of him, the orange light reflected in his glassy eyes. He gives you a small smirk, and looks at the candle, as though he’s daring you to blow it out. With a deep breath, you do, bathing the two of you in darkness. For a moment, it’s too quiet.

Moonlight filters through a dirty window on the other side of the room. It turns Vernon into an eerie shadow, nearly blue in the pale light. You hold your breath, watching him as he remains in the center of the salt, unmoving. His outline flickers faintly, like an old film reel catching on something sharp. You can sense he’s still watching you, unnaturally still but just as severe as always. Somewhere behind his eyes, something ancient stares back.

“Well?” You whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. “Are you feeling different?”

“I feel the same as I did early, which means I still want to eat you out. So not really.”

You deflate, sitting down abruptly on the ground. 

“Tough crowd. I thought that would excite you.” 

“Shut up, Vernon!” 

He obeys. As sharp-tongued and wicked of mind this new version of Vernon is, he listens to you. 

Usually.

Silence falls on you as you sit with your elbows propped on your knees, heels of your palms pressed into your eyes. The force of it makes colors explode behind squeezed shut lids. It feels like nothing is going to work, despite making your entire academic career into occult studies with the intention of applying it to understanding modern culture and shaping psychological theories and studies on human behavior. 

For the last few weeks, you’ve spent it going back through all your lessons thus far to take theory and make it applicable. To pilfer through all of your countless books, exams and papers on rituals, culture, and occult through the ages to find something that would work. To find something to explain why Vernon is both Vernon and Not Vernon - anything to convince you that you can reverse whatever this is. 

Do you want to? 

The voice comes to you unbidden, a tiny part of you doubting exactly what you’re doing here. 

Vernon’s voice is soft when he murmurs, “You’ll find something else to try.”

Your hands drop from your face and you stare at him. He looks like an ancient thing, sitting in the dark, but his face is so soft that you fight the urge to crawl over to him and into his lap. You know he would let you - would love if you gave in and did it. His every moment, every look, every word is borderline begging you to touch him, to close the distance between you, to have him again.

“Do you even want me to keep trying?” You ask, exasperated. 

He shrugs. “You want to keep trying.”

“What do you want, though?”

“You.”

Your fists close. Open. Close again. “Vernon.”

“You asked me what I wanted. The answer is the same, no matter how much it annoys you.” 

“Don’t you want me to solve this? Don’t you want me to find out what happened to you?”

His voice is low when he says, “I already told you, there’s nothing to solve. But if you want to keep trying, then I will. I don’t really care about the rest.” Silence falls between you once more. He sighs, shifting to stand. “Will you let me out of my cage?”

“I don’t know. Are you going to hurt anyone?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. Have I broken my promise?” 

He hasn’t. You know it, he knows it. The memory of his promise comes back to you as easily as if it were yesterday: you in his kitchen, chest heaving when you realized he couldn’t cross the salt line. Vernon, trying to lure you back toward him, voice soft. You, screaming that he had killed people, that he was a murderer and not your Vernon. 

Since then, he’s assured you if it bothers you that much, he won’t do it. That had, of course, been after he’d lectured you and vehemently assured you that they deserved it, the vitriol coming out of his mouth and the violence he used in his words enough to make you cower against his living room couch, knees tucked into your chest. 

That had made him shut up. He’d approached you carefully, hands out like you were going to run. And maybe you should have, but it was Vernon, and you love him, and you weren’t totally convinced any of it was real. So you let him coax you back to calm levels, his voice soft and sweet as he promised you he wouldn’t do anything without asking you. That he’d do whatever you wanted. 

He had promised, and he’s lived up to that so far, even if you can tell it chafes him to do so.

Standing, you kick the line of salt, breaking it. He gives you an appreciative hum, stepping through the gap and stretching his limbs. He’s dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt, the hem riding up to reveal a small flash of smooth stomach. You avert your eyes, shifting from foot-to-foot. 

“Hungry?” He asks. 

“I guess.” 

“Sal’s?”

You nod and follow him out of the room. You’d picked an abandoned house to do this in, hoping that if anything went wrong or you unleashed something worse, that at least it was just you and no one else for miles. 

Gravel crunches beneath your boots. Crickets chirp while a pale moon rises in the sky. Removed from the main town where your college lies, you can see the thousands of stars. You crane your neck upward to look at them, slowing your steps as your eyes trace all the familiar constellations: Orion the Hunter, Canis Major, Draco, Scorpius. 

Looking back down, you notice Vernon leaning against his car, watching you over the roof. He’s got that same burning gaze but a hint of a smile, refusing to look away until you’re sliding in the passenger seat and shutting the door. When he gets in, he pauses to look at you again.

“What?” You ask into the silence, staring straight ahead.

“You’re beautiful when you’re not afraid of me.”

You frown. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He hums and starts the car. “I wish that were true, Love.”

-

Music pulses loud enough to vibrate your ribs. You hate coming to clubs - especially shitty ones in college towns that don’t really have a bottle section but sort of do, with bottle girls who are all in your English classes and who pretend not to know you when they bring another bottle of champagne to your section.

Chan does not need another bottle of champagne. No one does, really. Vernon’s fraternity brothers are falling over themselves, coaxing girls into their laps to secure one to go home with for the night or sinking heavily into the booth, becoming one with the leather. 

One of the boys you don’t know crashes down into the seat next to you. You flinch and he flashes you an apologetic smile, his pupils blown and his goofy grin all you need to know that he’s fucked up. You scoot away from him a little, offering a cautious smile that you hope says I’m awkward don’t talk to me.

Even if he could read, he can’t read body language. He leans over and yells, “You know Chan?”

“Yes. Sort of friends.”

“Nice! We go waaaaaaay back.”

“Cool.”

“So, Sort Of friend. Are you sort of single?”

Thankfully, you don’t have to answer. It feels like the temperature plummets. One second, it’s just you and the nameless friend of Chan’s. The next, Vernon is crouching down on his knees in front of the dude, his eyes fathomless as he levels a stare at him. 

“She’s not available.”

“Woah dude. Chill.”

The air shifts. Vernon needs to say nothing more. Lights flash behind Vernon, painting him in violent colors of red and blue and pink. The shadows under his eyes are darker than ever and you feel a tingle go up your spine, though you’re not sure it’s explicitly fear.

When Vernon smiles, you’re reminded of something uncanny, like you’re looking into a void you shouldn’t be. That does scare you, but it scares the guy next to you more, who jumps to his feet and tries to bolt from the booth. He trips as he does, toppling over and slamming into the table in the middle, sending buckets of ice and bottles exploding in several directions.

Everyone jumps up, trying to avoid the carnage, screaming at the guy as he flails in his own destruction. Vernon slides into the seat next to you, back to normal. Nothing in his face indicates the malice that was there seconds ago, easing back into his quiet demeanor within seconds.

“What was that?” You hiss, though you don’t exactly mind. 

“That,” he emphasizes, giving you a meaningful look, “was me showing restraint like you’ve asked.”

“What, you were going to murder him?”

Vernon blinks and without missing a beat says, “Wanted to and was going to are different. I told you I would do whatever you wanted me to.” His face hardens. “I meant what I said.”

You lean back, entirely unsure what kind of creature you had dedicated to your every whim. 

-

Vernon is pounding on the door. He’s screaming, earth-shattering, heart-stopping screaming. His fists slam against the door with such force that it groans against its frame, hinges shrieking. You scream his name back, bloody fingers scraping against the splintered wood of the door, clawing at it, trying to tear it open, trying to get him out. 

The door doesn’t budge. There’s no doorknob. No keyhole. Just a dead piece of wood, locked and unmoving like it was never made to be opened. 

Vernon has never screamed like this, never sounded so afraid never- 

The door opens with a soft, sickening creak.

Vernon stands there, framed in the dark, unmoving. The shadows cling to him like they’ve grown fond of his shape. You can’t see his face clearly, only the light of his eyes, too still, too glossy. Your chest tightens as you watch him and he watches you, something ancient staring back.

“Vernon?” Your voice shakes. 

When he smiles, it’s slow. Too wide. Too many teeth. Rows and rows of them, glistening sharp, stretching too far. 

When he leaps, you scream-

You wake up screaming, thrashing your arms as your sheets tangle in your limbs. You finally get them off, falling out of your bed to your hands and knees as you gulp down fresh air. You scramble away from your bed, eager to get away from the claws of your dream, shivering and sweaty and terrified. 

In the middle of your room, you sit. You try to catch your breath, staring at the bed where your sheets and pillows have been thrown around during your nightmare. The only source of light in the room is through your window. The moon paints your room silver, the glass open to let in the almost-winter breeze.

On your nightstand, your phone begins to buzz. You stare at it, watching it flash on. You can’t see who's calling, but you don’t move, still frozen in fear. The call goes to voicemail and the phone turns off, dark once more. It’s only a second before it lights up again, a new call coming through.

Gulping, you crawl toward your nightstand, hesitant to come near your bed. Getting up on your knees, you see that it’s Vernon’s name flashing across your screen. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of the rows and rows of teeth from your dream. 

He starts calling a third time and you answer it, hand shaking when you bring it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I had a weird feeling.” 

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. Are you okay?” You hesitate and you hear him moving on the other side of the phone. “Love?”

“I had a bad dream.” 

“I’ll come over.”

“No!” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You feel his trepidation on the other side of the phone. Your hands squeeze your device, knuckles popping. “I mean - can I come there?”

His surprise is just as palpable as yours. “I mean, yeah. Can I come get you?”

“Okay.” 

“Do you want to stay on the phone while I drive?”

“No, it’s okay.” 

“I’ll be there in ten.”

The line goes dead and you stare at your empty bed. You don’t know why you asked to go there. Don’t know why it was the first thing you thought of. Don’t know why or how Vernon knew anything was wrong. What you do know is that you’ve been having nightmares almost every night in your bed, and trying to coax yourself back into the fluffy sheets feels insurmountable.

Instead, you slowly get up and grab a few things for Vernon’s. You don’t know what you need. You don’t know if you’re staying. All you know is that you don’t want to be in your bed, where the nightmares come, and that the last time you were in his bed, you felt safe. 

And then shortly discovered that he was harboring - or had harbored, if you ask him - an entity somewhere inside him.

Still, Vernon’s apartment is where he’d touched you for the first time, where he had pulled you apart and pried his name from your lips like no one ever had. Where he had pressed his mouth on every part of you, promising that you were his, that you were only his, that he would do anything you asked of him, that he was devoted to you. 

Light splashes across your face when he texts you that he’s downstairs. You grab your phone and keys, and a single charger as you do.

Downstairs, Vernon is out of the car and around the hood, hands reaching out to you. You slow your steps but you let him take you by the shoulders, ducking his head so his dark eyes can scan your face. You hold your breath as he does, eyes darting from his intense examination to his lips, where you imagine rows and rows of teeth.

“You look tired,” he murmurs. 

“I’ve been having a lot of nightmares.”

He hesitates. “Of me?” It sounds like he already knows the answer, but you nod anyway. He tongues the inside of his cheek and for a second, you think he’s annoyed. You start to bristle, but he softens and nods, dropping his hands to your wrist where he gives you a squeeze. “Come on.”

Despite everything, you follow him. You let him open the door to his car and put you inside, closing the door gently behind you. You let him put the car in gear, his hand reaching across the center console, hovering above your thigh. You stare at his hand for a few long moments, watching it waver. 

You want him to touch you. You don’t want to acknowledge what it means that you want him to touch you, despite everything. 

You give him a tiny, barely-there nod. His hand drops down softly on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. Goosebumps break out across your skin and your eyelashes flutter, immediately at ease. He starts to drive, the sound of the tires against the road and the engine lulling you into a sense of calm. 

Settling against the headrest, you let your eyes close. You don’t want to think about anything but the heat of his fingers on your skin, his thumb brushing back and forth, featherlight and loving. Later, you can think about what it means that you’re here with him. Later you can regret what you’re doing. 

Vernon’s apartment appears against a black sky. It looks no different than the last time you were here. He stops in the parking lot and holds a hand out to you. His face is soft, but his eyes are sharp as always. Carefully, you slip your hand into his. It’s warm and firm, wrapping around yours and tugging you gently toward the stairs, keeping you moving even when your trepidation grows and your steps get heavier. 

His neighbor's doormat catches your eye. Come in, it says. You stare at it long enough that he notices, turning over his shoulder to glance at it and ask, “What? No joke about vampires this time?”

“Last time I didn’t think they were real.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know what’s real.” 

He hums noncommittal as he works the lock with his keys. 

Inside of Vernon’s apartment smells like him. You feel a sense of relief, breathing in the smell of bergamot and vetiver, unsure if you had expected sulfur and something rotting. It looks normal as ever inside. Vernon’s home looks lived in, tidy but with pairs of shoes by the door, a blanket thrown across the arm of the couch and a few video game controllers on the coffee table.

Vernon toes off his shoes before drifting toward his bedroom. The doorway is a gaping hole of darkness and you feel yourself hesitate before calming yourself and following him, too nervous to linger alone. 

He switches on a salt lamp and soft, orange light fills the room. It helps put you at ease. You drop your stuff on his dresser, phone, charger and keys. You don’t know what else to do, turning to look at Vernon as he pulls the blankets back and sits on the bed, swinging his feet in.

“Gonna stand there?” He asks, grabbing pillows and shoving them against the headboard. He leans back on them, draping his arm across the tops. “Come here.” 

“I didn’t come here to sleep with you.” He narrows his eyes. “I meant like sex. I didn’t come here to have sex with you.”

“I know. You came here for comfort.” 

Well, yes. You feel hot all over, flushed head to toe with embarrassment. For once, he doesn’t prod you about it, watching you patiently as you scramble over to the other side of the bed and climb in. His sheets are soft and warm as ever, mattress sinking as you slide over next to him. 

Before you can get too close, you freeze up. You don’t know where you stand, suddenly. A few weeks ago, he was just Vernon, your best friend. Sure you’d been in love with him and he hadn’t known, but now he does know. And circumstances have changed since the admission of feelings. You haven’t been this close in weeks and-

Vernon wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you to him. You make a small sound of surprise and he laughs, low and deep in his throat. The sound scratches something inside of you, making your toes curl as you stiffen for a split second while he melds you to his side.

Then you melt. He’s warm and smells like he always has, his arm tethering you to him. Tentatively, you rest your head on his shoulder. He shuffles a little so that your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, comfortable. You’re pressed close to his side, your hands pulling nervously at the strings of your hoodie. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” His question rumbles through you where you’re leaning against him. His voice is deep and soft, a lullaby. Your eyes flutter and you shake your head. “I would never hurt you. Ever. I know you’re afraid of me but… you don’t have to be.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

You chew your bottom lip. “I’m afraid of me.”

“Explain.” 

Vernon is patient. Even this new version of him lets you find your words without pushing you to go faster. You think of how to explain, starting with halting sentences. “You’ve killed people.”

“Three, specifically.”

“Does that bother you?”

He doesn’t answer for a second. “They weren’t very good people.”

“Cheating is bad, but killing them?”

“Ah,” Vernon chuckles without humor. “I think I understand now. Would it make you feel better if I told you all of the bad things they did? Would it change anything to know they weren’t just guilty of adultery?” You don’t answer. “You don’t like that I killed people but what you’re having trouble with is the fact that you want to overlook it and you don’t like how that feels.”

As always, Vernon is on the nose with his guess. He’s always been able to pin down how you feel quickly, and it both relieves you and terrifies you to know that hasn’t changed. Killing people is wrong. You know that. But it’s how unbothered you are that sticks with you, this inability to figure out why there’s a desire to rationalize it, to let Vernon convince you his actions were justified. 

“You have an excuse,” you mumble. “You’re possessed by some sort of murderer.”

“I am not.

“I’m just… me.”

“People are complex. Wrestling with your own morality is natural. But I advise you not to let it drive you crazy.”

You snort. 

“What?”

“Getting advice from someone who is possessed-”

“-Again, it’s just me-”

“Is kind of silly.” 

“Then stop listening to my advice and go to bed, Love.” 

It’s the final piece you let him give you for the night, nodding and letting your eyes fall closed. The steady rhythm of Vernon’s heart lulls you into a trance until you’re drifting to sleep with the smell of bergamot and vetiver and no nightmares to plague you.

-

“Why don’t you add salt to your fries, hmmm?”

Veron looks up at you, deadpan. You give him a plasticky grin, grabbing the red pepper to shake over your pizza slices. As he has for the last few weeks, Vernon avoids the salt on his fries. Still likes them just as much as before, but can’t seem to tolerate more than the standard level of seasoned they come. 

Cool breeze slithers down your back when someone walks in behind you. Your booth is right by the door, giving you an icy blast everytime a new patron comes in. Vernon already made you give him the side closest to the door, but you’d managed to keep him from demanding the hostess move you somewhere else. 

A group of men sit down behind you in the booth. They sit down hard, making the back of your seat lurch forward.  You swear, turning to look at them over the shoulder as they spread out like they’re lounging at home all over the table and seat. 

Above you, the lights flicker. A low hum rides the air, barely audible, like static through bone. You whip your head around to look at Vernon. His gaze has turned to steel, unblinking and far too still. His fist tightens around his fork until the metal groans, knuckles leached of color. The air feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. You whisper his name but the flickering lights continue, drawing the attention of several patrons, all of them craning their neck upwards. 

A bulb pops at the table behind you. The men yell in surprise, causing the booth to rock. Your hand shoots out across the table, grabbing Vernon’s hand and squeezing. Immediately, the electrical anomaly stops and his gaze shifts to you, going soft at the edges. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, soft.

“Are you?”

“Yes, Vernon. You can’t go all Paranormal Activity every time someone annoys me.”

He frowns at that. “Says who?”

“Says me. Please.”

He sighs and lets his head thunk against the back of the booth. “Fine. I will add it to the list of don’ts, right alongside murder.”

“Ugh.” You let go of his hand and steal a fry. “Enough complaining about the murder rule, Vernon.”

-

Cracking your neck, you look down at the notes scribbled in front of you. Your writing is scrawled and going off the lines in your notebook, getting messier the further down the page you get. You drop the pen, flexing your fingers to try and get some feeling back into them. You’ve been taking notes for hours, your note-taking starting off neat and with organization before devolving into a messy script you can barely read. 

Stacks of books sit in front of you. Most are from your own collection, but there are a handful that come from the basement level of the library in plastic covers to protect the integrity of the book, yellowed at the edges and a little more than grimey. 

Leaning back in your seat, your spine cracks. You sigh in relief, stiff from spending hours leaned over the table. You’d commandeered a table bigger than you need, spreading yourself out - much to the annoyance and heavy side-eye of everyone else in the library - taking up as much room as possible so no one else would sit next to you.

Several of the boys behind you have already tried to smooth talk their way into the seat. Normally you might let them, but the last thing you need is for them to look over your shoulder and see you’re researching the history of possession and demonology. 

Also, you don’t want to give them your phone number, no matter how many times they ask. 

A backpack lands on the table in front of you, making you flinch. You tear off your headphones, ready to bitch out whoever it is when you realize it’s Vernon. You stare at him in surprise, watching him pullout the chair and throw himself into the seat. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “You cut off your hair.”

“Mhmm.” He runs a hand over his hair. It’s barely longer than a buzz cut, dark and fuzzy and soft. “Like it?”

At first, you don’t say anything. You drag your eyes over him, assessing. Today he’s in a leather jacket over a worn baseball t-shirt, ripped jeans and a beat up pair of converse. It’s a quintessential Vernon outfit, but it looks different now - better, even, with the short hair. 

“I do.” 

“Good.” He winks at you, making your stomach flip. His eyes drift over your shoulder, spotting something in the library that’s caught his interest. “What did you want to meet about?” 

“So, I’ve been doing some research.”

His eyes briefly scan the table, a single brow arching. “You don’t say?”

“Shut up.” You throw a pen at him but there’s no real heat to your words. “I’m wondering if I’m coming at this from the wrong angle.”

His dark eyes are looking over you again, but he says, “Yes. You’re looking at it from the point of view of someone who thinks I’m still possessed. I’m not.”

“No. I’m looking at it like you were possessed by a spirit, but I’m wondering if maybe it was a demon.” He snorts and says nothing. “There are some essays and source materials that believe disgruntled spirits eventually become demonic entities. I’ve been looking up rituals on spiritual banishment and purification, but not demonic - are you listening?”

Vernon’s gaze is burning on something behind you. He doesn’t answer, his eyes narrowed and flickering. You lean forward, throwing the cap of your pen at him. It bounces on the table and joins its body, rolling uselessly to the side. 

“Vernon.” His eyes snap back to you. “What is so interesting behind me?”

“Have they been bothering you?” He nods to something behind you. 

You twist in your seat, turning to look at the table of boys who had sent over one at a time to try and join you. Only one of them looks in your direction, lifting his head and grinning when he sees you’re looking. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to tell Vernon it’s nothing, but he’s already out of his seat and walking around the table.

Eyes like daggers, he gives them a single annoyed glance before he pulls out the seat next to you and drops into it. He kicks out his foot and hooks the toe of his Converse around the leg, pulling you toward him until your seats clack together and you’re thigh to thigh.

Vetiver and bergamot flood your senses, heavenly and heady. 

“What are you-”

“Demonic possession?” He purrs, voice turning to smoke. He leans toward you, laying his arm across the back of your chair. “You were telling me I’m a demon.”

“That’s not - why are you sitting so close?” 

“We’ve been closer.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I just like sitting next to you.” He taps the page with his free hand, mouth twitching. “Focus, baby. Tell me what you learned.” 

You turn molten at the name of endearment. Baby is new. Catches you off guard. You sputter as you try to reach for  your notes, suddenly not remembering what books are where, all of the things you just absorbed from them flowing right out of your head.

Vernon makes it even worse. His fingers start to play with the edge of your t-shirt sleeve, fingers occasionally brushing your arm and sending a pool of warmth blooming across your skin. His nearness is intoxicating, thoughts a little foggy. 

“Problem?” 

“You’re being a little shit,” you shoot back, huffing. He laughs - loudly - making other people flinch. “Stop flustering me. I know you’re doing it on purpose.”

“But you are flustered?” 

“Yes, Vernon. Do you want me to tell you what I found or not?” 

His voice is warm when he teases, “I’d rather keep making you squirm.” 

“Ugh. I am out of pens to throw at you.”

“Sorry. Proceed. You have my undivided attention, I promise.” 

Somehow, you manage to get through your messily written notes and your research. It was hard to compile the research, but you feel like maybe you’re on track with your new theory that Thomas, the spirit who had - in Vernon’s opinion briefly possessed him and in your opinion is still there - hadn’t been a spirit at the time of possession, but rather perhaps a demon.

It’s a working theory that because Thomas was bound to his place of death through violent and unresolved emotion, he not only became a disturbed entity, but was warped by his anger and grief, shifting into something darker. Most research on demons was clear cut that they were creatures from another dimension, but spirits aren’t of this dimension either.

Because everything you’ve tried so far for a spiritual dispelling hasn’t worked, you think perhaps Thomas’s spirit had morphed into something more proto-demonic in nature. There isn’t much to go off of, but the structure for your theory is there, even if made from toothpick-weak data and suppositions. 

Vernon listens the entire time. His fingers still trace your arm absently, tracing aimless patterns. When you finish and look at him, he seems thoughtful, dark eyes unfocused. When he looks up at you, his smile is small.

“So what do you want to try this time?”

“Maybe a priest-” 

He groans and drops his head back. 

You quickly continue, “Just to start, okay? I want to test my theory.” 

“I’m not a demon.”

“Well, we don’t really know, do we?”

“We already went to a church.” 

You pout and he sighs. “When do you want to go?” 

-

White paint peels off the church. It’s an old building with crooked, dry rotted steps outside. It’s a small church with a single steeple. You can see the bells just beyond the window, currently silent as the crickets take up chorus around you. 

The sign out front is worn and sunbleached. Trinity Cross Chapel is carved across the front, whatever phrase from the Bible written under it long faded. You’d chosen an old Protestant church to test your hypothesis, partially because it was far on the edge of town where the risk was lower if Vernon turned into a demon, and partially because according to the town registry, it was the oldest church in town.

And well - because Protestants were pretty serious about absolving themselves from sin and that salvation alone could only be reached through Jesus Christ himself. Perhaps if anyone could tell you what was wrong with Vernon, it was Jesus. 

“This place is a shithole,” Vernon observes, hands in his pockets.

Alright, perhaps Jesus wouldn’t want to help Vernon. You shoot him a glare and plunge ahead, rocks and dirt crackling beneath your shoes. Vernon follows you at a leisurely place, giving the building a critical eye.

“It’s worse for wear,” you admit, heading to the steps. “But it’s old and largely underfunded because when the college was built, the town moved to be centered around the college and not the church.” 

When your foot lands on the first step, it cracks and your foot falls through. You yelp but Vernon’s hands are on your waist immediately, his chest pressed against your back as he steadies you. He’s so close that your heart goes from hammering at the fear of falling to thundering over his proximity.

“Are you okay?” His breath fans your ear where he asks, almost a whisper. You nod, a little out of breath. “Be careful. Let me help.” 

Gently, Vernon guides you up the rest of the steps. None of the other ones cave in, though they do creak ominously. You scurry inside of the building, eager to get on more even ground before you plunge through the entryway. 

Inside smells like mold and wet carpets. You scrunch up your nose, looking at the faded and stained red shag beneath your shoes. Rows and rows of wooden pews line the church, book-ended with walls of stained glass windows. You peer at the imagery as you walk down the aisle, hands hovering above the pews as you go.

The stained glass is lovely. You imagine during the day it’s stunning, the sun hitting each piece to refract into thousands of colors. You recognize each piece of artwork from your study on Christian religions: The Baptism of Jesus, The Lamb of God, Saint Paul with his sword and book, The Resurrection. Each one is meticulously crafted, dark without the sun to bring them to life. 

Each piece makes you think of Vernon. There is a haunted beauty about them that has you looking at him sideways as you walk. He seems unaware, craning his head to look up at the old, cracked rafters of the ceiling. 

At the front of the church is the chancel with a lectern front and center. Behind the lectern is a communion table, banners with scriptures fastened to the wall, and some seasonal decor. Vernon walks closely behind you, uncharacteristically silent as you head for a man sitting in the front row, head bowed. 

“Minister?” 

Your voice brings the man out of his reverie. He’s somewhere in his late forties, hair greying at the edges. He has sharp blue eyes and heavy frown lines, his eyes looking you up and down before drifting to Vernon. His mouth turns down as he stands, adjusting the simple robes he has on.

“This him?” 

“Him has a name,” Vernon mutters at the same time you say yes. 

“Come with me.” 

The minister turns on his heel and marches toward one of the side doors behind the pulpit. You hurry after him, Vernon hot on your heels muttering, “You called ahead?” 

“Well yeah… what else was I going to do? Walk in and be like ‘yo is this guy possessed?’” 

“Might be possessed.”

“So you admit you might-”

Vernon swears. “Love, that is not what I meant. I can’t give you an inch, huh?” 

The back offices of the church are stuffy, full of tepid air and dust. You sneeze and Vernon mutters bless you, his tone sharp. You give him a look and he grins, wicked and sharp. “See?” He whispers. “Bless you.”

“Well don’t stand in the hall,” the minister quips. 

“Sorry.”

You rush after him where he holds the door to his office open, Vernon still muttering obscenities under his breath - you’re pretty sure he has called the minister five types of cunt by now. The minister leans away from him when Vernon walks by, partially to be safe and partially because Vernon leers at him. You whisper at him to cut it out, hand shooting out to grab his hand and pull him to sit in the seat next to you. 

Rounding the heavy desk, the minister sits down. His desk is full of ledges and books, religious imagery covering the walls. It smells damp and stale, making you scrunch your nose. It distinctly reminds you of your grandma's closet with moth-eaten coats and water stains on the carpet. 

“Tell me his ailments.” The minister folds his hands under this chin, watching you with sharp eyes. “Be thorough.” 

“I have a name,” Vernon growls.

The look the minister gives him tells you he’s taking mental notes. You clear your throat, leaning forward. You reach your hand over to Vernon, resting it on his knee and squeezing comfortingly. The minister’s eyes don’t miss the motion, narrowing when you leave your hand on Vernon’s leg. 

“It started on Halloween,” you explain, recounting the ritual and some of the side effects Vernon has experienced since then. Vernon sits in steely silence, his eyes boring into the minister’s head as you talk. You skip over the murders but imply that Vernon has more violent urges. “I was researching and-”

“Leave the research to the professionals, girl.”

That pulls you up short. “I am a professional, sir. Or - well - I will be. I’m an occult studies major, so this is sort of my expertise but-”

“Occult studies major,” he scoffs. “Nonsense. The only study you need is the word of God. Perhaps you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place and reeking of sin.” When he says the word sin, he looks at where you’re touching Vernon. “The ritual is nothing. You could not have summoned anything that wasn’t already there. You are possessed by the sin that poisons-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “The ritual wasn’t exactly formal, but it had all the right materials to summon an entity.” 

“You know nothing. You come into a house of God with this nonsense talking about rituals and bells because you read them in a book, as though they’re on par with the Word?”

You open and close your mouth, confused at the turn of events. The minister presses on, “Your paganism is just as much as a sin as drinking in an abandoned house and giving into lust and gluttonous pride and other salacious acts. If you are looking for demons, it is the ones you already carry inside of you and must purge through confession and devotion to Jesus Christ.”

“Wow.” You lean back in the chair. Vernon’s muscles have gone taught in his thigh, his shoulders ridgid and his nails digging into the wooden arms of the chair. “This is not at all what we’re here for. By the way - there is nothing wrong with paganism. I would argue that historically most religions, including branches of Christianity, are full of paganism. You have rituals and-”

The minster sits up straight, slamming a hand on his desk. “The truth of God stands apart from the lies of paganism. What I see here is not a victim of a pagan ritual, but two young adults brimming with sin who should confess their sins to Jesus Christ to absolve-”

“Lies of paganism? You can’t erase where things come from, you know? Religions all borrow from one another- symbols, holidays, whatever. One is not less valid than-”

“Only the Word is valid.” 

You bring up a hand, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Look, minister, I came here to help if you could identify demonic energies or symptoms in Vernon. This has turned into a religious lecture, and I’m not arguing with you on the semantics of scripture.” 

“I sense deep darkness in both of you. You can’t even speak to me without touching him, full of gluttonous-”

Vernon gets up, interrupting the minister. “We’re going.” 

“You should beg for guidance and confess-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Vernon growls, leveling the minister with a stare. He bends down to pull you to your feet, his glare softening slightly when he looks at you. “He’s an idiot. You’re having an academic argument, he’s pissed off because he’s popped a boner under his robe and can’t do anything about it because I’m here.”

“I beg your pardon!” 

Vernon crowds you against the side of the chair. He presses in close, ducking his head to press his forehead against yours, nose nudging against you. When he speaks, his voice is velvet-soft and barely a whisper. “And he probably hates that he could never fuck you the way that I do and I know all the little sounds you make.” 

It feels like the air has evaporated from the room. Vernon’s eyes are only for you, his pupils dilated, completely trained on your eyes. His breath fans your face, his hands pressing against the small of your back as though he can press you any closer to him. 

Dizzy, you try to say his name, acutely aware of the minister yelling at the two of you to get out. Vernon gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before turning to look at the minster, a sneer on his face. He looks more terrifying than you’ve ever seen him, but his grip on you is firm. Warm. Strangely enough, safe. 

“She’s ten times the brain that you are. Cunt.” 

Vernon’s lip twitches like he’s going to snarl. Instead, he turns and heads toward the door, hand shooting down to yours to tug you along. You stumble after him, unable to find words but wanting to stay close. Your heart hammers, mind spinning from how quickly the situation had spiralled out of control. You’d just wanted the minister to do some sort of demon test and-

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Vernon admonishes, escorting you out of the church. He’s careful with you down the steps, lifting  you by the waist to let you skip the last step entirely. He plants you firmly on the ground. “He was a fanatical dick. Maybe next time we do a new wave church or something.”

“You’re going to let me do a next time?”

His mouth kicks up at the side. “I know you’re not done, Love.” 

-

Vernon swings his legs back and forth, watching you rub cleanser into your face. You’ve given up on asking him why he likes to sit in the bathroom while you do your skincare. ‘Cause I like you was always the response, or some similar variation. You don’t mind. It’s endearing, and you’ve wanted to have Vernon like this… well, since forever. 

Usually, you use this time to talk your way through things you want to try to help free him from possession - lack thereof, he asserts - but tonight you’re quiet. The water is warm as you splash it onto your face, melting the cleanser away and leaving nothing but blotchy, irritated skin. 

You pat dry your face, avoiding looking in the mirror. 

“What’s wrong?” Vernon’s question is soft. You look up at him, eyes round. “You’re extra quiet tonight.” 

“Oh. Thinking, I guess.”

“About what?” 

About everything. Somehow, this has become your new normal. You’re not entirely sure what to make of it, or the fact that it’s been weeks and Vernon genuinely shows no other signs of having an entity inside him. It’s more like he is the entity now.  

Before, Vernon had always been a little on the sardonic side. But it had been quiet, his sharp words muttered, not spoken, his irritation silent, not voiced. In a way, it was the same way with his feelings for you. He’d revealed that he’d liked you as more than a friend for years, angry at how much of a coward he’d been and how it had taken motivation to make him say anything.

The Vernon who chose hiding and restraint was now replaced with a Vernon who asserted himself and could barely hold back. It was different. Not bad, different, just different. You liked the old Vernon but… you don’t dislike this Vernon, either. He still has the makings of his normal self, still interested in all the same books and video games, content to lose to Mingyu in Fortnite over and over, the same Vernon who likes movies and music and Sal’s Pizzeria. 

Vernon gently taps a knuckle underneath your chin, getting your attention. “Tell me.” 

“I was sort of wondering if the minister was right.”

He scoffs. “What?”

“Okay maybe not about the sin and everything but more like… I don’t know.”

Vernon senses your train of thought. “You still don’t like that you don’t care I killed people.” 

You wince at his words. They are sharp and real and more honest than you can voice. Unable to find the courage to agree out loud, you nod your head. 

Gently, Vernon reaches for you. You let him grab you by the biceps and navigate you so that you’re standing between his knees. He squeezes his legs shut, pining you to the spot, albeit gently. His gaze is soft when he looks down at you, his hands playing with your fingers. 

“I can’t tell you how to feel,” he starts. “I can tell you… look, let me tell you what those first three nights were like. And why I don’t think I’m possessed, alright? This is just… me. A little different, but me, okay?” 

Chewing your lip, you nod. His gaze falls down to where he plays with your fingers. “I definitely was possessed, that first night on Halloween. I have no idea how Soonyoung managed a ritual that was done right.” You pinch him and he laughs. “Yeah, right. You were sort of the linchpin. In that closet, I… felt taken over, like I was suddenly shoved in a box and flooded with emotions and rage and hate but more than that? Fear.” 

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. Then it got sort of quiet and I felt really disconnected. You left so fast and I didn’t even go after you because it felt like I was grappling with myself and I felt a little lost. When I went home is when the real mess started. I had all these thoughts and memories that weren’t mine, all these feelings and images and knowledge. It was overwhelming.”

“Is that why you avoided me?”

“Yes, but I was also just full of anger. Not just at things that didn’t belong to me, but things that did. A lot of it was at myself for wandering through life never voicing what I wanted or never taking action or just sort of… riding in the backseat, I guess.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. And having the presence of someone else there was like - fuck it was like being in the backseat again. It made me pissed and I just sort of grappled with the spirit for what felt like days until I woke up and I was just… me. But there are random pieces that belong to him, I think. Like sort of an impression?”

“Is the… murder, one?”

“I don’t really know, Love.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I remember seeing him kill that woman he loved and then himself and my first thought was that I could never do that. I could never kill you. Regardless of what you ever did to me, I vowed that I would do anything for you. But on the other hand, it made me so angry to think anyone could do that to someone they cherished. I would set the world on fucking fire for you - how could others not feel that way when they love someone?” 

Love someone. Vernon has never explicitly said that he loved you or was in love with you. He’s implied it - talked about you like he loves you or alluded to it. But now it’s out in the open as he speaks, a full admission that you are someone he loves that he would do anything for you. 

“And then I saw those people who weren’t only cheating on people who loved them,” he murmurs. “But they were also terrible people. Like full of such shitty things they’ve done and I just… What if those people ever came across your path? Would they fuck you over? Would they cheat on you?” 

Panic grips you. Vernon feels you go rigid in his grip and he looks up at you, realizing what he’s said. He shakes his head quickly, tightening his hands on  you. “No - sorry. I didn’t do it because of you, that came out wrong. Please don’t - that isn’t what I meant. It isn’t your fault. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how the world would be better without them so I just… did it.” 

“Vernon…”

“I swear to you, it wasn’t for you. It was… for everyone? I don’t know. I cannot stand the thought of fucking scum walking the earth like that, so I did something about it.”

“And then you stopped.”

He looks up at you, a bit sulky. “What you want is more important to me. But my point is… I don’t really know what to do with the fact that I don’t care about what I did either. And even if you don’t care, it doesn’t mean you’re a monster or anything. It just makes you the person I want most in the world, still.” 

It’s terrifying, this profession from him. To realize that you have this much power over him, this much sway is overwhelming. Pinned between his knees, your thoughts race with no direction, pulled in so many different ways. This kind of love is everything - and  yet it scares you. But if you step away from him now, if you pull away in the slightest, you know it’ll do irreparable damage. That it’ll hurt. 

“Can we go to bed?” You whisper, daring a glance at him. 

Vernon nods, sliding off the counter. As he does, you shuffle backward, but not far enough to be out of reach. He lifts his hands to your face, cradling it gently and angling you to look at him. “I’m me. A little weirder. A little less refined. But I’m me.” 

He’s right. You hear the truth in his words and you realize perhaps that’s why you don’t care about the blood on his hands. Because it is Vernon, and he’s yours. You don’t care because you love him, and you’d do anything for him too. Which is why you’ve spent weeks researching a way to free him - from nothing, you’re starting to suspect - and why you’ve not taken a single opportunity to turn him in. 

“You’re you,” you agree softly. He smiles and you stand on the tips of your toes, pressing your mouth to his. He makes a surprised sound but you feel his grin grow wider for a split second before he kisses you back in earnest, soft and slow. “Remember what you said to the minister?”

The question catches him off guard, his lips ghost against yours when you break the kiss. “What?”

“That he can’t fuck me like you do.”

Vernon’s grip on your face turns firm. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes flashing. “I meant it.”

“Do it.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Show me.” 

“Fucking say less,” Vernon growls, pulling your lips to his again.

This kiss is all-consuming, needy. Vernon’s fingers slide to the sides of your neck, angling you to deepen the kiss. Your pulse hammers against his fingers, mouth sliding along his. His tongue presses against yours, hungry. You meet him with equal fervor, weeks of holding yourself breaking though.

Somehow, Vernon manages to walk you backward. You cling to his arms, careful not to trip over your own feet until you’re falling backward onto his mattress. It smells like him - safe. He reaches behind his head, gripping the collar of his shirt and yanking it up and over. Propped on your elbow, you watch him. He throws the shirt and then he’s on you again, pushing you back gently so he can climb on top of you, a knee on either side of your waist.

Vernon’s skin is burning hot. Your fingers trace his lines, making him moan into your mouth as he kisses you furiously again. Your heart hammers so hard in your chest you can feel it, a racing rhythm that backtracks the sound of your heavy breathing when he breaks the kiss to pepper your jaw and neck in warm, wet kisses. 

Your lids flutter, stomach flipping when he bites down on your neck harshly, soothing the sting with a rough swipe of his tongue. It feels so good, a slow but steady ache spreading between your thighs as he busies himself with sucking fervently at your collarbone. 

Slipping your hands around his tapered waist, you scratch your nails up his back, not hard enough to leave marks but firm enough to make him groan and shiver. You grin, arching up into him as your hands explore the muscled planes of his back.

Your hips squirm, canting up against him seeking friction. He laughs, dragging his mouth from your neck to your lips, mumbling, “Need help?”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not, baby. It’s cute.” 

Baby. You whine, hips thrashing and he grins before silencing you with a sweet kiss before reaching down to slide a leg open, replacing the open space between your knees with his thigh. A thrill shoots through you when he brings it up to your core, one of his hands dropping to your ass to help grind you against him. 

“Come on,” he urges, licking your jawline. “You know you want to.”

You do. You roll your hips, dragging your clothed cunt along his sweats. It’s not nearly enough friction to do anything significant but it still feels good, turning your body static.

Vernon slides his hands under your shirt, bunching up the material as he slides upward to rid you of it. The room is cool, your skin pebbling and nipples tightening at the temperature. Vernon immediately sends a lick of heat through your, dropping down to capture a nipple in his greedy mouth.

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes closing. It feels so good, his tongue swirling lazily around the bud as you grind against his thigh. “Feels good.” 

Teeth scrape against your sensitive skin. You let out a breathy sound, eyes rolling back. You give Vernon control easily, letting him work you up. It’s sweltering between your bodies, his skin warm against yours, the air charged. You can barely breathe, head falling to the side as he lavishes attention to your chest, your little rolls against his thigh desperate. 

One of Vernon’s hands slips to your waist, firm and sure. He lifts himself off you and you protest but he hushes you with a quick, hungry kiss. His breath is warm against your cheek when he pulls back, shifting to kneel between your legs on the bed. 

His fingers find the waistband of your sleep shorts, slow and deliberate. The fabric scrapes against your skin soft-slow, like Vernon is unwrapping something sacred. The cool air hits your skin with equal intensity as his stare, dark and focused. There’s no teasing smirk anymore, replaced with a desire so powerful you start to squirm. 

Then he’s on you again, mouth crashing against yours, deep and messy, all tongue and teeth and spit. He kisses you like he’s trying to become one with you, like he needs to taste every sound and whimper and noise you make. You can hardly keep up before his hand presses between your legs, fingers sliding over the front of your panties, pressing into the heat and slick of your cunt through the fabric. 

And fuck it feels good. 

One of his hands stays there, circling your clit with firm, steady pressure, rubbing the soaked fabric against you. The other creeps upward, fingertips brushing your chest, your collarbone, until it finds home at your neck. His palm settles there, warm and weighty, and you feel him shift his grip just enough to pin you gently to the mattress. It’s not tight, not rough, just present. Possessive. Perfect.

You thrum beneath him, the room tilting on its axis, slow and dreamline. You feel lightheaded, not just from the stimulation building in your core, but from the soft restraint of his hand around your neck. He’s not squeezing just yet, but the pressure is enough to remind you that it’s Venron in control, a promise of more that sends a thrill through you. If you want it. 

You do want it. Your hand stretches up without thinking, shaking fingers curling around his where he grips your throat. You give him a gentle squeeze, a plea. His glaze flicks down to yours, searching. He seems mystified by what he sees there for a moment, swearing before he nods once, barely perceptible, before tightening his grip just enough to send a tingle down your spine. Not too much. Not too tight. Just enough to make your body sing. 

Vernon presses his forehead against yours, mouth barely brushing your lips. Your breathing is coming harder now, trying to keep up with the way your body is vibrating at his touch. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, voice gravelly and reverent. He slips a hand under the waistband of your underwear, fingers hooking the edge to pull the damp fabric aside, revealing the slick warmth underneath. He groans softly at the feel of you against his fingers, sticky. You moan and he curses again. “There it is. You sound so pretty, baby.” 

That spurs you on. You make more sounds for him, gasping when his fingers circle your clit properly. Your thighs twitch in response, nearly closing around his hand. He tuts, pressing his mouth against your jaw. “Feel good?”

“Yes,” you whine. His grip tightens a bit more. “Yeah. Yeah like that.”

He pecks your cheek and does as you ask, squeezing the barest hint more. 

You start to fray at the edges. You feel yourself coming apart, incapable of doing anything but shaking under his ministrations. Having him touch you like this again is good. You don’t want anything else, happy that you’re here again. You don’t care about the cost, don’t care what it means anymore. It’s just you and Vernon and his hand between your legs, pulling a long, drawn out orgasm that has you trembling quietly in his hold.

When you let out your breath, orgasm subsiding, Vernon moves. He lets go of your throat, the sudden loss bringing the blood back, rushing. The room turns on its axis, your eyes fluttering as he shuffles down the bed, his hands pressing your thighs open. 

“Vernon.” His name leaves your mouth, hand shooting to grab him by his short locks when he presses his tongue to you. You can barely breathe, shaking when he slowly licks up your cum, not wasting a drop. “Fuuuuck.”

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles against your cunt, tongue lazily licking you in circles. “Missed this so fucking much.”

Vernon’s tongue is addicting. He’s messy with it, closing his lips around your clit to give greedy sucks before dragging his mouth down to prod at your entrance. You shake under the attention of his mouth, barely able to do a thing. 

His tongue drags slowly, warm and wet as he licks you at his own lazy pace. You realize this is for him. He savors the way you melt in his mouth, the little sounds you make when his tongue flicks back and forth on your clit, the way you cry when he fucks his tongue into your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 

It’s maddening. His tongue traces along your entrance, collecting arousal before curling back up to lap at your clit. It feels like your blood has turned into electricity, your veins the conductors, Vernon’s mouth the source. He hums against you, enjoying this as he gives your cunt sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. 

“Shit,” you hiss. He’s going to make you come again. You’re not even sure that’s his goal. He seems more focused on tasting you, on drinking you in, on running his tongue around and around on your sensitive flesh. 

He hums, looking up at you with a mouth full of pussy. You see the gleam in his eye, see how much he wants this, watch as he grins and puts on a show for you, opening up his mouth and holding his tongue flat to your pussy, letting you roll your hips to fuck his tongue. 

Vernon nods, little mumbles of mhmmm as you near your high. He lets you take control, riding his tongue until you’re spasming, thighs squeezing his head. He doesn’t care, tongue moving back and forth, keeping you shaking as long as he can until you’re twitching, pushing at his head. 

He comes away, mouth and chin slick, lips swollen. You don’t care, grabbing him and dragging him up to you, surging forward to lick across his lips, tasting yourself. He grins and pins you down to the mattress by your shoulders, content to let you taste as much as you want. 

“Please,” you gasp against his mouth. “Want you.”

He curses. “Say it again.” He leans down to your ear, lips pressed against it when he says, “Say you want me.”

“Want you. Only you.”

“Mhmm.” He licks down your neck, biting down when he reaches the juncture of your shoulder.

Leaning up, Vernon kicks out of his sweats. His hands are reverant when he pulls your underwear down your thighs, fabric scraping against your hypersensitive skin. He dives back in, kissing you as he presses his waist against yours, cock heavy and leaking against your thigh.

You reach down, palming him in your hand. He moans, desperate and breathy, breaking the kiss to drop his head against your shoulder. He’s warm and smooth in your hand. He lets you swipe your thumb across the sensitive head of his cock, hips jerking. You spread his precum down his shaft, hand firm. He fists the sheets, hips twitching forward as you stroke him leisurely. 

“Please,” he murmurs, breath fanning your neck. “Please.”

Hearing him ask for it nearly makes you pass out. You drag the crown of his cock through your messy folds, slicking him up. He growls when you do it, pressing his cock down down down until the tip catches your entrance. You moan in tandem, you at the pressure of him pushing in slightly, him at how bad he wants it.

Vernon sinks in slowly. You suck in a sharp breath, overwhelmed from the feeling of his cock pressing you open until there’s nowhere left to go. It feels good as he stills, hip-to-hip with you as you adjust. Your mouths tangle again and you slide your fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck, tugging what you can.

He gives an appreciative sound and pulls back slightly just to give a sharp fuck forward. You jostle and break the kiss, gasping, spit linking your mouth. His grin is wicked and he licks into your mouth again, starting to fuck into you slowly. 

You start to synapse. You feel on firel, burning up from the inside out as Vernon sets a slow but deep pace, pulling all the way out before he drives all the way back in. He grabs one of your thighs, nails scraping as he pulls it up and fastens it around his waist. It changes the angle, makes everything feel deeper.

Everywhere Vernon touches you leaves a mark. He stains your soul, every press of his mouth a promise of ruination, every brush of his hands speaking prophecy into your skin. You feel him write himself into your scripture with each thrust, every pass of his tongue against yours a prayer. 

The minister was wrong. You and Vernon have something holier than he could ever understand, a dark gospel unfolding between your moving bodies that only the two of you know the hymns to. How could it be anything but when you feel closer to God as Vernon grips your leg tight, pulling you down to meet each thrust. What is religion, if not the feeling of his moans buzzing through your lips, bringing you closer to revelation? 

“Mine,” Vernon promises against your lips. “Mine.”

“Yours.” Your hand slides from the back of his neck around to his chest, pressing your palm flat against his chest. His heart is hammering, lungs heaving. “Mine.” 

“Only yours.” 

“You love me?” 

You nod frantically against him. 

“I need to hear you say it.” 

“I love you.”

And you do. You realize that nothing else matters. You don’t care how fucked up the last few weeks have been. You don’t care that Vernon is something a little more than human, maybe something a little less. You don’t care about anything other than the fact that now he’s here, vulnerable with you - only for you. 

He picks up his pace. You feel another orgasm coming, all of your nerves pulsing, near overloaded. “I would rip heaven from the sky if you asked.”

“I know.” 

And you do know. You see it - feel it in the desperate way he grabs you, the way he fucks into you, frenzied. You feel yourself light up, an imploding star as you come around him, squeezing. He growls out your name, coming undone with you, thrusts messy and wet as you soak his cock. 

Vernon’s mouth finds yours, uncoordinated and messy but greedy, gluttonous, needy. You kiss him with equal fervor, uncaring that your mouth feels bruised and swollen, willing to let him tear you apart just to have some fraction of him with you. 

He starts to slow, spent and shaking until he’s hovering over you, trembling. Your hands rub up and down his sides gently, calming him down. He breathes heavily, the only sound trapped between you. You tilt your head to the side, pressing soft kisses against his inner forearm. 

Eventually, he pulls out, leaving a wet mess and dull ache between your legs. He doesn’t go far, content to tangle himself up in you, pressed as close as he can. His mouth goes to your shoulder, pressing butterfly-light kisses there. 

“If I’m a demon,” Vernon mumbles, voice scratchy from use, “you must be my angel.” 

“Yeah?” You roll toward him, lifting your hand to cradle his face. His eyes are soft as ever, watching you. Your thumb brushes back and forth over his cheekbone until his eyes flutter shut and he nods. “So are you saying you’re a demon now?”

His mouth twitches but he shakes your head. “Don’t know what I am. I’m just yours.”

“Yes,” you agree softly, gazing at him with stars in your eyes. “Mine.” 

-

All the candles are nearly burned to the wick when Vernon enters the church. The flamelight stutters, reacting to him like prey sensing a predator. His boots fall heavy against the threadbare carpet, each step a low, deliberate thud that echoes too long in the still air. His hands are buried in his pockets, but there’s a lazy, cruel confidence in his gait now, a swagger that would have been foreign on the boy who used to flinch at raised voices.

He thinks of that version of himself as dead now. 

Old Vernon. Soft-spoken, uncertain, dying under the weight of all the words left unspoken.

This Vernon doesn’t tremble. This Vernon doesn’t hesitate to say what he wants - which is only ever you. This Vernon isn’t afraid to make the world bow at your feet, to crush anyone who would stand in your way. 

He’s not possessed. He knows that. He hasn’t been possessed for a while. It doesn’t feel like Thomas left so much as Vernon devoured him. Bit by bit, until there was nothing left of Thomas’s spirit. Now, Vernon is more than he was. Maybe a little less human, he isn’t sure. Something with blood under his nails and your name forever on his tongue. 

All his rage, all his violence, all his power? It's yours. It's what makes the constant simmering need to do damage bearable. 

Vernon doesn’t knock when he reaches the minister’s office. The door opens with a warning creak, and the man looks up in confusion, wondering who would dare enter his office this late at night without knocking. He realizes who it is and his face twists into a tapestry of anger.

It dies just as fast. 

Vernon doesn’t give him a moment to speak. He drives his boot into the desk, splintering the wood with a sickening crunch, sending it skidding into the minister’s chest. The man crumples with a wheeze and a painful shout, papers floating down around him like ash.

Circling the wreckage with deliberate calm, Vernon grins as he watches the man flail, trying to get up, a beetle stuck on its back. 

“My girlfriend told me not to kill anyone,” Vernon explains. His voice is casual. Conversational.  “Didn’t say I couldn’t ruin you for opening your fucking mouth, though.”

The minister gapes, trying to push away from Vernon. “What are you doing?” 

Vernon’s fingers unlace from his pockets. He flexes them, tendons twitching like coiled wire. “Paying you back,” he growls, leaning down, breath hot and too close. “For every time you insulted her while we were here the other night. For calling her study a delusion and making her question herself and her work.”

He seizes the minister by the collar of his robe and hauls him upright like a limp doll. “This time,” Vernon murmurs, voice suddenly soft. Sensual. “I won’t stop at words.” 

This time, Vernon’s hands draw blood. 

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[norcigs]

CAM BUNNY .ᐟ ᢉ𐭩

series masterlist

synop: lando discovers a special cam girl… part 1.

warnings: smut with plot, m and f masturbating, use of bunny and slut, exhibitionism, use of toy

📹: 1.8k words

really, it started very innocently. lando had been lonely with all the race weekends and certainly pent up with stress. his friends told him about some website that might help him ‘relax’. it was a wednesday night on an off week, cool enough outside for lando to have an excuse to stay in and order take out. the half eaten chinese food and some romcom playing in the background, set his scene. his mind wandered, wishing he had someone to share it with. someone to lay on him and watch movies with. someone who might straddle him right here after dinner and give him what he wanted.

his pj pants were getting tighter, and his frustration grew from his warming crotch. he didnt really care to watch porn. of course, he has and does, when the moment calls or on a particularly hot night. but it was never intimate enough for him anymore. he wasn't invested in the acting, he wanted, needed, something real.

it was this moment of desperation that led lando to typing in the website his friends had mentioned. he wasnt sure what he was expecting exactly, but it wasnt this. his eyes focused and made sense of everything he was seeing. the different squares each showing a different woman’s live stream, each of them doing something different, but they were all some level of erotic. he snapped his laptop shut and stood from the couch quickly. his heart raced like he had just seen something he was never supposed to.

eyes remembering the different women, exposed tits, arched backs, some with face, some just out of frame. he would never admit it, but he was excited. not really at the memory of how the girls looked or anything, more so at the scandal of it all. someone livestreaming that level of sexuality, and him seeing it. a welcomed peak into a woman’s bedroom, and how she might pleasure herself.

exhaling deeply, he sat back down and moved his laptop back to his lap, opening it. he scanned the images that flashed before him, taking in each girl before scrolling down for more squares to load in. he clicked over to the search tab, a white box popped up, covering the girls on the screen. he felt relieved, like he wasn’t spying anymore. he knew that isnt really what he was doing, and the thought of it made him more dizzy than he wanted to admit. the search tab blinked at him, the prompt saying…

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR ?..

he blinked back at his screen, what was he looking for? he racked his brain for some idea of what he wanted to see. mini skirt, step-sister rp, findom, lingerie, glasses, honestly nothing really spoke to him. the cursor kept flashing, waiting for him to start typing. his fingers moved without his brain. slowly, he realized what he was typing, sweet girl.

honestly, he couldn't tell you what that meant or even what he wanted to see. but as he clicked the enter key, one result popped up. of all the people on here… just one that fit his search. his pupils dilated as he forced his eyes to drag away from your figure to read your title. “just a sweet girl needy after a bad day :(“

you had no hashtags, no viewers, no real set up. just your knees straddling a pillow with a light pink vibrator laid on top of it, held to your clit. your bed spread was floral, soft pastel colors mixing with the fairy lights that made you glow. the frame of the camera showed a lot of your room and all of you, except anything above your collar bones. you were completely clothed, plaid mini skirt and a tight white tanktop, even matching white knee high socks. from what he could tell, you even had panties on while trying to get yourself off.

what was a girl like you doing here… and if this was your thing, why go through the steps of not making your account easily findable? he dragged his mouse over the smaller square that held your picture. his heart beat so loudly in his chest, he could feel the vibrations of it hitting his dick. torn, he wanted to see more of you, wanted to join your stream, and watch as you pleased yourself. the other part of him felt like it was too wrong, a layer of sweat covering his palm, while his finger hovered over you. that's when it dawned on him, maybe, since you were here, deep down, you wanted to be watched.

he clicked into your live and was met with complete silence. you clearly didn't have a mic, or didn't want to turn it on. the chat box on the right side of his screen was tempting, but instead he moved his laptop to a stable position in front of him while he leaned back on the couch, watching. the way your hips dragged your cunt across your vibrator, hips lifting like even that was too much for you. your tummy flinched and relaxed as pleasure built up within you. your hands gripped desperate fists of the pillow in front of you.

his hand found his way inside his pajamas as he palmed his cock to you. watching the way your breath hitched when your clit knocked against the fast moving vibrator. how you couldn't commit your full weight to riding the toy because it was too much. his hand moved at the same pace as your hips as he imagined it was his cock driving you this crazy. he could tell by the way your chest moved that you had finally looked up at the screen.

the 0 viewers button now had a 1. he watched the way your hips sped up and wondered if it was really just the idea of someone watching you right now, that got you so worked up. your soft hand moved to where your mini skirt laid over, shielding your most intimate area from the camera. your fingers pulled the fabric up to show yourself completely. the red silk panties matched the skirt, and had white cursive over the front that said bunny.

lando was pumping his cock to match your faster pace now. cock red and hot, bucking into his own hand. he could see the wet mark on your panties and how well your clit was grinding into the vibrator now. putting on such a good show, just for him. he saw the muscles of your tummy clench and relax quickly as your hips stuttered. he could tell from your neck that your head was tipping back and you were allowing your high to control you.

his hand kept your pace as he thought about you above him, riding him until you came undone like a slut. how your cunt would wrap around his cock. how you would take the whole thing even if it stretched you too much. how he wouldn't even take your skirt or bunny panties off, but just pull them to the side to use your soaking slit.

you shook with pleasure as the tight bound coil in your belly erupted and sent an orgasm spilling all over you. the way your chest heaved seemed like you couldn't even hold your own moans in, despite being alone while pleasing yourself. lando felt his own body relax with euphoria as he reached the peak of the mountain and fell off. warm, sticky spurts shooting into his own boxers. his eyes never left you as he grunted into his hand and pictured himself filling your tight cunt, before fucking his seed deeper into you.

your breath was heavy as your arms hung tired, reaching to turn off the vibrator. his hand in his own underwear gave himself a few more good pumps before he removed it and wiped it clean. you had a new air to you, more gentle, soft, like you were ready to curl up and rest for a while, like you hadn't just slut-ed yourself out with him watching.

he watched you, mesmerized, as his own muscles relaxed. sitting up straighter, he watched as your raised your hand and gave the camera a barely noticeable wave. something about it sent electricity through lando. you were real, and he was the only one watching, the only one you could be waving to. he felt a bit stupid that his heart was fluttering for a girl he knew nothing about, but he wasn't gonna let this moment pass without taking a chance. he leaned towards the keyboard of his laptop and typed into your chat box

beautiful girl, i hope you're feeling better now, bunny

he watched as your breath caught and your hips grinded a slow circle down onto your pillow. reading his message made your skin flush soft pink, before you were moving off your bed quickly. careful not to show your face, you walked over to the computer that hosted your live stream and ended it without any notice. he couldn't see your face, so he wasn't sure, but you looked nervous. like his praise might have got you excited, as if you weren't on here showing yourself to anyone who might stumble onto your account.

the screen flicked white and you were gone, text appeared, “CamBunny has ended her live”. scrolling down he saw your account. your profile picture was of you in a pink bra holding a bunny stuffed animal. his mind ignored the embarrassment he felt by already being able to recognize your chest. your bio stated simply “live every wednesday and sunday night”. there was nothing else on your account. no name, no saved videos or pictures, no followers, no following. you were gone just as quickly as he had found you.

lando knew he was gonna have a tough time waiting until sunday to see you again. as he cleaned himself up in the bathroom, he let his mind wander to how your waist curved into your hips. how your collar bone showed as one of your tank top straps slid down. how the light freckles on your forearms made his heart race much faster than he wanted. one thing was very clear to him already, he wanted you in a lot more ways than he should.

[slasherhaven]

Slashers with a significant other who is a cam girl and wants them to be in one of their videos? 💃

2 posts in 2 days who do I think I am? See ya'll in a year! /j

CW: NSFW

You do Cam Work and Ask the Slashers to be in your Videos:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is pretty conservative when it come to sex and such, but he's come around to your cam work, especially since you let him help with the details.

You like when he picks what you were or what scene you might do. You made Thomas feel like a part of it and that made him comfortable with it.

Still, he's very surprised when you ask if he wants to do a video with you. He refuses immediately and you respect that.

You ask again a while later but with more details. Like nobody would know who he was, you would keep his face out of the shot, and the two of you will do whatever he is comfortable with.

Your first video with him is of you riding him. His head isn't in the shot but the rest of his frame is. The size difference goes hard and your audience agrees.

Thomas is a flustered mess when you sit to read with comments with him. Everyone is talking about the new man in your video, gushing about how big he is and how attentive he is. Even with his size it seems your audience could sense his gentle soul, commenting on the chemistry you both have and how they would love to see him again!

Thanks to all the lovely comments, Thomas agrees to do another video even if he doesn't see himself putting his face on camera any time soon.

Michael Myers

Michael honestly does not care that you do cam work.

When you first ask him to be in a video, he pretty much ignores it.

But when you ask again some time later he doesn't see why not.

As long as his face isn't in the video or anything, you can film it, he doesn't really care.

The videos you make with him afterwards are pretty similar to your first video with him.

Usually you bent over while Michael fucks you to tears.

Michael is barely in the shot most of the time. Sometimes it just a close up on you, other times it includes Michael but only ever getting at high as his chest.

Everyone is obsessed with your mystery man. Where did he come from? What was that scar from? Can we see more of him please!!!

Jason Voorhees

We all know that Jason's comfort levels with sex is extremely low and it takes a while for him to become comfortable with physical intimacy. So cam work is certainly going to take some time for him to come around to.

And once he's become more comfortable with that, it's going to take a whole lot longer before he feels comfortable being in a video.

When he does decide to give it a go, he is a real hit!

He refuses to show his face on camera and you do whatever it takes to make sure he is as comfortable as possible.

Before Jason says you can use his name in videos and descriptions, your audience referred to him as 'the gentle giant', which is completely accurate!

No matter your usual content, Jason is nothing but gentle with you when he's in a video.

Brahms Heelshire

Watches your videos over and over again, he loves them. He'll watch you record them and watch them later once you've posted them. He can't get enough.

He's already got his pants off when you ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. You end up fucking even though you're not filming it.

He actually doesn't have much of a problem with having his face on camera. He's still a little insecure about his facial burns but you have alleviated most of that by this point.

And after the first video and he reads all those positive comments. Some are as horny for him as they are for you.

Fully embraces his new pornstar identity. He's insufferable.

He'll be in any video you want and your audience love watching you take care of your needy brat.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is in fully support of your work, it brings some money in and he gets to watch your videos. Even if his possessiveness still often gets the better of him. Whenever he reads comments of people praising you, Bo has an insatiable need to bend you over something just to prove a point.

Gets all cocky and arrogant when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

Needless to say, he agrees to do it.

And he takes to it pretty easily. He knows how to get all of his favourite reactions from you, how to get you pleading and begging for him, and he wants everyone watching to know.

Bo is arrogant and always smirking when the camera is on but it performs well.

He likes to how the camera and film himself entering you. He really does have a terrible ego.

Vincent Sinclair

It gets Vincent flustered, he could admit that, but he appreciates the artistic side of it all. It takes more effort and consideration than one might think!

He likes helping you get ready for a video and taking care of you afterwards.

He's hesitant when you first ask if he wants to be in a video. A part of him wants to do it with you but he's not confident enough in himself.

But he loves making you feel good and at this point he knows he's good at it, so he gives it a try. You can film them without posting them after all, like practise runs.

He may never show his face but he doesn't mind having his body on camera. Sometimes he even just hides his face with his hair instead of keeping his head out of the shot completely.

On Vincent's more self-conscious days, he'll film close ups of him fingering you instead.

He's very good with his hands and your audience agrees. They are very jealous of you.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is pretty neutral on your work, but of course he absolutely loves your videos.

He's mostly just surprised and flustered when you first ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. He thinks you're perfect so he understands why people would want to watch you, but he doesn't really see why people would want to watch him.

But he still agrees to it because he's your biggest supporter!!!

Your audience love the chemistry and intimacy between you both, leaving comments about how real your videos feel.

The videos that perform best are usually the ones where the two of you forgot you were even filming, just giggling together and enjoying each other. Lester gets all nervous and shy when the camera turns on, which is adorable, but forgetting that the camera is there really does help him perform better, the sweetheart.

Your audience love your more thought out and planned videos but appreciate the occasional more relaxed video with your sweet boyfriend.

Bubba Sawyer

Super flustered by your work but he's supportive.

Is super surprised and nervous when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

He agrees to give it a try once you explain that you can always delete it and nobody has to see it if he changes his mind or doesn't like it.

Bubba is just a big sweetie really, and you know just how to turn him into a squirming, blubbering mess.

And your audience love to watch you do it!

In later video's you do, you use the viewers' comments to fluster him even further. Using all the kindest and sweetest comments that say how lovely he is .

Come on, Bubs, they love you, they're being so nice. Why don't you say thank you?

Billy Lenz

Billy loves watching your videos and when you ask if he wants to be in a video with you, he is so excited!

He's completely down to make some home videos but he's a little unsure about putting it online for other people to see.

So you make it so his face isn't visible and let him watch the final edit before uploading it. He thinks it's so hot, he can't say no.

Honestly, you could do really well with just audios alone though. People will go wild for it. Billy unable to keep his mouth shut, all those desperate moans and whines and noises, the sticky wet slapping of skin. Honestly, a video element is just a bonus at this point.

And who gets off to the video the most? Billy obviously!

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Asa monitors your accounts anyway, even if you don't know it. He wants to know what you're posting and how people are responding. Don't want any bullies or trolls, right?

He's probably tried to manipulate you into suggesting it anyway.

He doesn't have much of a problem with your cam work, he's just a possessive bastard and would love to claim you in front of your entire audience.

The mask stays on!

Okay, he designs a new mask to avoid any chance of self criminalisation but whatever.

You two can make it big in BDSM communities.

Ties you up, blindfolds you, gags you. Whatever he feels like, but often seems to focus the camera on your reactions rather than on what he is doing to you. Studying his favourite little specimen.

Your audience already adored you of course, but they also love this new Dom you brought it.

There is no doubt as to who you belong to now.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Obviously Jesse has no problem with being on camera and he already has a pretty big ego, so he'll probably even wear the Chromeskull mask. It's his signature whether it's for his snuff films or your cam work.

Like Asa, you do absolute numbers in the BDSM community. Everyone is very pleased with his fully suited up, masked Dom that you brought in.

He already has his Chromeskull persona all fleshed out so he just brings that energy to your videos.

He's a sadistic Dom and you might have to upload an Aftercare video at some point just to reassure your more loyal audience that you're alright and always well taken care of afterwards.

Otis Driftwood

Is obviously a fan of your videos and isn't going to stop you from making them. You aren't actually fucking anyone else, so he's cool with it. And if he feels particularly jealous or possessive at some point, he knows he's the only one who can actually pin you down and have his way with you.

Oh yeah, he's down to make a few videos with you. He's probably got some old tapes of his own somewhere, long forgotten. He's not shy.

Says the filthiest shit, it kinda becomes his think on your platform.

Otis can be absolutely disgusting but, fortunately, there is an audience for that and they flood to your videos.

Calls you all sorts of names, asks you if you get off on knowing everyone is going to watch him fuck you. That everyone is going to see all the things you let him do to you.

Baby Firefly

Baby loves that you do cam work, she loves performing. She happily does your hair and makeup, she helps you pick out costumes and which toys you'll use in that video.

Hell, she's even filmed a video or two for you!

She's your number one supporter so of course she jumps on camera as soon as you ask if she wants to be in a video.

The two of you are all dolled up and she's magnetic, the audience love her as much as they love you.

The two of you are absolute menaces if you decide to do a livestream, pulling in huge donations because Baby is going to pout and taunt. Why should the two of you put on a show if they're not showing their appreciation properly?

Baby is the type to respond to very low donations with "it's alright, you can just say you're poor". She never promised to play nice and she just thinks you're worth more than that!!!

You end up apologising for her.

People are into it though.

Yautja (Predator)

Your mate doesn't quite get it but he's cool with it.

Is hard as soon as you ask if he wants to be in a video. Yautja's aren't very conservative or prudish when it comes to sex and nudity, so you weren't too surprised.

He loves the thought of taking you, of claiming you, and everyone knowing that you're his mate. That he's a worthy mate for you.

Even when he's a regular feature in your videos, he doesn't completely understand it, he just knows he's into it.

Everyone loves to watch you try to take him fully, the struggle, the determination, the satisfaction when you manage it.

You have cornered the Monster Fucker market. They don't know if it's real, if it's a very elaborate costume, or very realistic animation, either way they are eating it up.

All the other performers who use alien dildos and such are super jealous, obviously.

[unluckilyimnot]

Bed chem – trafalgar law

You have nightmares and happen to bump into your captain in the middle of the night. ~2k

Note: first one piece post, not the last, i just restart reading it. made this late last night. My bsf told me it was nice so here it is

m.list | rules

It was the middle of the night when you woke up from yet another nightmare. You’re gasping for air, having a hard time collecting your thoughts and grounding yourself. Tears peak at the corner of your eyes – you need to get away from this feeling. So you get up, not bothering to put some pants on based on the hour and go looking for a glass of water. Chills can be seen on your arms, but you swear yourself you’ll be quick. You walk fast around the ship you know now like the back of your hand, you’re not really looking, not bothering turning the light on – until you hit into someone right in front of the kitchen.

“Shit.” You cursed before you can even make sense of who’s in front of you. He turned on the light, that way can finally see your captain, bare chest, making his way to the kitchen as well – you figured. If you had a hard time grounding yourself, hitting your nose right in Law’s chest was very efficient. You didn’t mention how he’s dressed, neither does he for you. There’s just a knowing look between you two.

“Couldn’t sleep too ?” you ask, walking in the kitchen and getting your needed glass of water while he took an apple.

“No.” He waited a moment, enough for you to finish your glass in one go, before asking, absently. “Nightmares ?”

There’s a long silence, more comfortable than you’d expected. He knows what he’s talking about, you don’t need to hear him saying it – you just know. That’s probably not the first time he hears you wandering around the Polar Tang at night, and it’s certainly not the first time you hear him either. You’re always awake around the same hours, but it’s the first time you ran into each other.

“Yes.” You answer in the same tone.

He nods, taking a knife, then sits at the table. There’s chills on his back as well, but he doesn’t seem to care. You look away quickly, not wanting to face him when you just checked him out. You pulled another glass from the shelf, filling them both before sitting next to him. You lean slowly on the table ; your hands couldn’t reach the other side, but you still liked to try. You don’t really know why you sat next to him when you usually don’t even bother to check on him, but finding yourself in the same room as him, in the middle of the night, felt a little intimate. You liked it : sitting in silence, giving him a glass of water he didn’t ask for. It felt right.

Without a word, Law handed you an apple’s slice. You looked at it for a second, blinking twice before taking it. You took a bite, eyes glimmering at the sweet taste before he ate one himself. It goes on for a while. Law gave you another one after finishing his, and so on, until the apple was done.

“You want more ?” he asked roughly, his voice was deeper than usual from the late hour. When you shook your head he got up and threw it away, leaving the knife and both glasses  in the sink and leaned on the counter. You knew he was staring at your back, probably dying to ask something, just like you, but wouldn’t dare. Then he moves again, his hand brushing along your shoulders.

“Come with me,” he whispers, as if talking would push you over the edge. It wouldn’t, but you didn’t say anything. You look up at him, not knowing where this was going. A small frown formed on your face, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m not gonna eat you,” he snored before patting your shoulder gently.

You got up this time, following him in the dark hallway to his cabin. You stopped by the door, not daring to take a step ahead. There’s a twisted feeling in your guts, you’re not sure you can walk through the door and then leave the same. Law turns back to look at you.

“Let’s stay awake together, if neither of us can sleep,” he clears things out quickly, of course, but it still feels weird. Yet, you take that step and walk into his cabin as he closes the door behind you.

You don’t really know what to do at first, and now you feel really self-aware ; you regret the small pair of shorts you could’ve easily put on. Noticing you fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, he showed you his blanket, authorizing you to lay in his bed as he puts on a shirt before sitting at his desk. So you do. Let the warmth engulf you, drowning in his scent – you feel safe, finally, and your body understood it faster than you because you yawned quietly.

You're laying on your side, rolled into his blanket, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I sleep here ?”

“Sure,” he said softly after a moment, you can tell he wants to ask something else but isn’t sure. You fight to keep your eyes open for a few more minutes.

“Do you mind if I join ?”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate, maybe because you’re already half asleep. “It’s your bed.”

You hear him chuckles, but it’s far away already. Your eyes close slowly and you hold the sheet a little closer. You’re not even fully asleep when you feel his arms pulling you up and bringing you up to the pillow before he lays next to you. There’s space between you, but he’s radiating so much heat, you’re drawn to him like a moth to light. You don’t remember touching him, not really. You think you do but you can imagine it totally as well. You fall asleep with the weird feeling of his arm around your waist.

When you wake up the next morning, the sun is piercing through the round porthole falling right to your face. You roll away from it, hitting Law's arm. He’s covering his eyes but slowly moving as well. Your eyes are still half closed when you catch his also half asleep eyes. He groaned, stretching his arms above his head even if his limbs hit the wall. You pull the blanket closer to your face, hiding the small blush you can feel coming dangerously to your face.

He’s hot. His hair is a mess, his eyes shine with sleep after he yawns. It feels like cheating, seeing him so vulnerable. He doesn’t say anything, neither do you, not yet. He gets up before you, only putting pants on before giving you a shirt – longer than the one you wear at the moment, so you can go back to your cabin and change.

“I’ll make your coffee,” he says, finally, his voice still deep and rough from sleep.

Something flips inside you. You bury your head in your pillow before nodding. You hear the door close behind him and sigh, before groaning in the pillow. You take your head out of it, gasping for air a little, feeling so flustered. It feels weird thinking about it, you don’t even dare talking about it ! But it was nice. You slept well, you were hot all night, not curled up on yourself. It was comforting having him close, being able to touch him and hear him breathe. You shake your head. You don’t want to think about it.

But you do. It doesn’t leave your mind all day. You kept thinking about his arm around your waist you’re sure you didn’t imagine. How you just fell on him in the middle of the night, how he wanted to sleep at the same time as you, how you two woke up at the same time… You couldn’t help but think you two match each other too much.

Of course you noticed how well rested he looked as well, it didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in fact. He’s less on edge, a bit less firm in his words, he laughed at one of Sachi’s jokes – almost made the man choke on air. It wasn’t just you, he slept way better as well.

Yet neither of you mentioned it. You go on your days like you usually do, without looking at each other more than necessary, without lingering touch. It didn’t change anything, after all. Right ? It was a one time thing, you wanted to believe it.

Until you woke up again in the middle of the night later the same week. You went for a glass of water, like usual, but this time you stayed a little longer in the kitchen, waiting. You felt silly, but you kept your eyes on the ocean on the other side of the porthole with your glass still in hand. Until you hear him walking around the corner, the barely marked stop in his track when he sees the lights on before you imagine him walking in.

“You again ?” he chuckles but there’s no fun in his voice, only a strange softness you didn’t expect. Or maybe you did. You don’t want to think about it. You turned his way, smiling at him.

“Who else ?”

He’s still bare chest, he can still see the beginning of your ass because your shirt barely covers it but you don’t mind. He walks to you, stealing your glass from your hand before filling it and drinking.

“Nightmares ?” It’s your time to ask now as you stare softly his way. He turned around and leaned on the counter next to you, crossing his arms.

“Didn’t have time to fall asleep yet,” he cleared, but didn’t say he didn’t have some. You whine at his words.

“It’s three in the morning, captain,” you nagged. “You should try at least.”

“’Cause you do ? Then why are you here, almost every night, at the same time ?” there’s a mocking smirk on his lips – he’s not buying it.

“Well, yes, I do sleep. I’m just not the best at it,” you pout a little, before laughing lightly. There’s nothing to laugh about, but the conversation made you laugh anyway. You miss the light in his eyes, and you for sure would never think his heart would ache at the sound. And yet. 

“We have a really good bed chem, Law,” you confessed after some time. You’re now leaned on the counter, leaving your head on your arms. He doesn’t dare look at you, you guess, because he’s suddenly stiff beside you. “We wake up at the same hours in the night. Fell asleep at the same time the other night, and woke up together as well,” you comment, not sure if you expected him to speak or not. “It felt nice,” you confessed, finally. “I slept well that night.”

He can see you half naked by now, but that’s only fair in your opinion. His eyes linger on your for a second before looking away and finishing his glass. “Yeah, me too.”

Your heart skips a beat at his word and you can’t help the smile on your lips.

“Can I sleep with you tonight ?” you ask, confidence showing up out of nowhere.

“Sure.”

He’s distant, not looking your way anymore as he pushes himself off the counter but he waits for you by the door, and he lets you choose the pillow you prefer. And he pulls you to his chest when you turn your back to him after saying goodnight this time, holding your waist so close to him you can barely move. But it’s fine, you’re not arguing that, not when you fell asleep so easily ; not when all your nightmares go away when he’s near.  

part 2

I might do another part, idk yet. Ace is gonna have his version too hihi. Let's me know if you liked it!

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

need to know!

ft; sakura haruka, suo hayato, umemiya hajime, ren kaji

synopsis ; how aware are they of your crush on them?

cw ; gn!reader, violence, some of them are stupid asf

now playing ; need to know by doja cat

sakura haruka

romantic sensor hard at work…! again.

sakura isn’t stupid. well, academically, he certainly is. but he’s aware enough to tell when you’re acting differently around him than with the others. for one, you don’t show up at suo’s doorstep every day with food while proceeding to eat it with him. you sure do that with sakura though. you don’t bombard nirei with texts whenever you can. you sure do that with sakura though.

his stupid little romantic sensor gives it away though. whenever you do anything for him, even if it’s picking up something that he dropped or making a sarcastic compliment about him, he turns bright red and his thoughts begins to ramble a mile a minute. it’s almost as if steam is rushing out of his ears.

his sensor is practically screaming “they have a crush on you! they have a crush on you!”

the biggest problem though? he’s too insecure to realize it.

logically—and even instinctively—it makes completely sense that you’re in love with him. but emotionally, sakura’s senses are completely blocked by his past experiences. i mean, what was there to like about him?

he’s internally aware, but externally too dense to figure it out.

suo hayato

he knows the tea. and he drinks it as well.

aware? oh, suo knows. he can tell. from the slight twitch of your fingers when his hand accidentally grazes yours to the slight, nearly unnoticeable pout on your lips when he leans in ever so closely to your lips only to brush a few strands of hair ever from your face and back away. he sees it all.

of course, he likes you back. a little bit too much, actually. so much that when he closes his eyes, you’re the first thing that he thinks of. that you occupy and consume all of his thoughts. he doesn’t mind confessing first, he just needs to make sure that you’re prepared. you’d probably melt and hyperventilate if he confesses to you in this current state.

you’re so damn obvious about your crush. he thinks it’s cute.

the worst part about suo is that he’s so damn nonchalant and vague about it as well.

when he finally confesses to you, after an excruciating year of crushing on him, it’s almost like an intentional slip of the tongue. “you think no one’s going to ask you to homecoming? well, i like you a lot, and if we went to the same school, i’d ask you out.”

suo is painfully aware. so much so that it’s incredibly annoying to have a crush on him.

umemiya hajime

“yeah, of course 1+1=2!” “how’d you solve it?” “…”

of course he can tell that you have a crush on him! how do you think he leads furin without good observational and emotional skills? he can obviously tell that you’re so genuine with your compliments because of your crush on him!

and yes, he can easily figure out which are the gifts you give him because you have a crush on him and which are the gifts you give him because it’s actually some sort of special day. usually it’s the former. well, at least he’s still getting the gifts at the end of the day.

the catch?

he can’t seem to process the fact that you have a crush on him.

it’s just like how it is with tsubaki’s crush on him. he’s not stupid; he can clearly tell that you have a crush on him. but he can’t seem to process it or act on it. it’s like knowing a formula for math but not knowing what the hell to do with it or where to put the numbers.

you don’t even know if you want to call him stupid or smart.

ren kaji

he’s just as in tune with your emotions as he is with music.

kaji is leagues more normal than the others. he’s keen enough to be in touch with the emotions of others, especially as a grade captain. despite how outwardly rough he can be sometimes, he can definitely take a good read on the emotions on someone else, especially someone he’s close with.

he’s not as cruel as suo or as dumb as umemiya. does he like you back? definitely. he couldn’t even deny it. but at the same time, he’s too awkward to confront you about it. he’s horrified at the thought of coming off of brash or abrasive if he ever confronts you about your crush on him.

so he just sucks on his lollipop, watching your face turn bright red whenever you catch him staring at you a bit too intently.

you’ll be fine. he’s sure that you’ll find out soon.

[cake-writes]

Just This Once

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, he gets lost in the sauce frfr, situationship… ish?, this man wants to RUN, disorganised attachment style (primarily avoidant), penis in vagina sex, teasing, edging (accidental), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Kakashi discovers that he has a breeding kink. It's kind of a spiritual experience.

Inspired by @rookie98writes's fic Leave It On

—

Kakashi isn’t used to the strange sort of domesticity that comes with being in a... whatever this is. It’s not quite a relationship. A situationship, maybe. He’d say it’s something more than friends-with-benefits, but the two of you aren’t really friends, either.  

You come together every now and then. That’s all. Like two passing ships in the night. 

So why is he standing in front of your stove, cooking dinner while you sort through the pile of unopened mail on your kitchen table? Why did he offer to water your plants while you were gone? Why does he want to do anything for you? 

Kakashi knows what it’s like trying to play catch-up after some time away from home—two months, in your case. He’d knocked on your door a few minutes ago with the intention of returning your key, and he must have caught you right after you got back from the store if the two bags of groceries on your kitchen counter were any indication. 

You looked so dead on your feet that Kakashi took over from there, unprompted. But now, as he stirs the pot of flavourful soup simmering away on the stove, his mind sees fit to wander.  

What the hell is he doing?  

He’s getting too attached. That’s what he’s doing.  

It’s that time again—time to cut and run, just as he always does when things start to become complicated. Kakashi makes a habit of ending any potential connection before it can even start, because he can’t afford to lose anyone else. He can’t get hurt if he never lets anyone in. It’s easier that way. 

“I need to schedule my injection,” you mutter to yourself as you read through one particular letter. Then you sigh and toss it back down onto the table, before you lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. “We should probably get used to using condoms again until I can book an appointment.” 

Your birth control must be overdue, then.  

“Sure,” Kakashi answers, feigning unbothered. The two of you used condoms in the beginning, but after a particularly gruesome mission that nearly saw him home in a box, Kakashi stopped reaching for the bedside drawer, and you stopped asking him to.  

He should have known then that he was getting too attached. 

Still, it’s your body. Whatever you want. He’ll end things in the morning either way. 

As Kakashi samples a bit of the soup he’s minding on the stove, pausing for a moment to add a bit more salt, it suddenly sinks in – really sinks in – what could happen if the two of you aren’t careful.  

He could get you pregnant. 

A jolt of arousal shoots through him.

Kakashi doesn’t want children, not now, not ever, which is why it doesn’t make a lick of sense that such a thing would turn him on. He likes the idea of his seed taking root inside of you. He might even enjoy it, the imagery his mind conjures—you bent over for him, begging him to give you a baby, your pretty yukata hiked up around your waist…  

His clan crest embroidered on the back of it.  

Kakashi swears.

You startle, looking over at him in alarm. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he lies. Then he proceeds to play it off like he burned himself, but he isn’t fine. No, that single thought, that single fantasy, scares the complete and utter shit out of him—but it turns him on even more, and that’s so much worse.  

He’s already too attached. 

—

Kakashi doesn’t do feelings. He has them, of course, much like any other person, but he doesn’t let them show very often, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them. He won’t say in so many words that he cares; instead, he shows you through his actions alone. 

His knees brush the underside of your thighs as he settles between your legs, bracing himself with one hand beside your head.  

What a vision you make, spread out for him like this.  

Your lamp had blown when you went to turn it on, leaving the streetlights to illuminate your features in a sickly hue of yellow-green. It isn’t romantic in the least, but he can’t help thinking that you’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment—maybe because it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see you like this.  

The sight of you, so needy and wanting, fills his chest with something bittersweet.  

The tomoe of his sharingan spins lazily as he memorises the curves of your body, the muss of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you work to recover from your first orgasm of the night. His fingers are still tacky with your essence, and he smears the residual wetness over the head of his cock.

“You should wear a condom,” comes your breathy whisper, but you make no move to stop him. Your eyes almost seem to glow as you peer up at him in the dark, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Mm. Do you want me to?” 

His question hangs heavy in the air. The only things Kakashi can hear are your soft breaths and the sound of his own steady heartbeat, which quickens with every silent second that passes.  

You want to say no, he realises.  

He wants you to say no. 

“I like it better without,” you answer quietly, and the implication isn’t lost on him. Not when you look up at him with those big doe eyes, like you don’t know the risk. 

Because there is a risk, and he knows it. Kakashi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night—wicked thoughts, terrible thoughts—thoughts of filling your fertile womb with his seed, thoughts of watching your belly grow round with his child, thoughts of seeing his clan sigil stamped between your shoulder blades like a mark of ownership. 

His.  

Against his better judgement, Kakashi does exactly what he shouldn’t do. He agrees.

“Just this once.”  

Just like he says every other time—except every other time, there's never been a risk.

Your coy little smile prompts him to lower down onto an arm and settle more of his weight on you. Kakashi dips his head to kiss you indulgently, savouring the taste of you, the feel of you beneath him. He kisses you like he hopes to convey just how much he missed you while you were gone, like you might be able to taste the unspoken words that linger in his mouth. 

He kisses you like he means it—and he does. That’s why he needs to go. 

As his tongue twines with yours, Kakashi fills you in a slow, beautiful glide that wrenches a whimper from your throat. He knows he should go easy on you, but he relishes in the rapid flutter of your walls as you struggle to adjust to him after so much time apart. A surge of masculine pride washes over him, tinged with a hint of guilt for stretching you open like this. He isn’t exactly small, after all, but you take him so well. 

To ease any potential discomfort, he smooths his hand up the silky skin of your thigh in a soothing caress, before he trails gentle, placating kisses along your jawline. “Is this okay?” Kakashi asks, voice low, only to be rewarded with a particularly strong contraction that makes his toes curl. 

“More than okay,” you sigh. 

As a test, he shifts his hips. When Kakashi hears your breath hitch, he knows that you can handle more.  

He starts slow, rocking into you sensually, but he already knows that he isn’t going to last. It’s been just as long for him, and you’re tighter than you’ve ever been.  

“God, Kakashi, you feel so good.”  

So do you. Kakashi sucks a bruise on your neck in response, if only to muffle the sound of his own pleasure when your perfect cunt clenches around him again.  

He needs to pace himself, or he’ll finish too soon—but then you ask him for more, and what else can he do but oblige you?

He speeds up, not overly so, just enough that both of you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of your lovemaking. The smell of your arousal permeates the air, and he’s tempted to have another taste. 

Later. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. “Did you miss me that much?” 

Maybe he’s reassurance-seeking – just a little – but your answering whine tells him what he already knows. 

He’ll miss this. He’ll miss you. That’s why he needs to go. 

Kakashi doesn't want to think about that. He just wants to enjoy what little time with you he has left.

“Stay with me,” you rasp. You’ve always been good at noticing when he’s stuck in his head, but right now, Kakashi can’t help but wonder if you’ve just read his thoughts. You see through him so easily. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

“Sorry,” he says with genuine apology, leaning in to capture your lips again. You let out a pleased hum into his mouth and lift your thighs up a little higher—an offering, one he’s more than happy to accept, even if he doesn’t plan to reciprocate your vulnerability.

It’s selfish, he knows. 

The new angle does something to him, or maybe it’s because he's well aware that it would be even easier to fill you up this way. He reaches deeper like this, and the tilt of your hips would perfectly hold his cum in place, increasing the chances that it’ll take. 

He wants it to take. 

Kakashi exhales a long, shaky breath. He shouldn’t want that as much as he does. He shouldn’t want it at all.  

“Close?”  

Yes, but he’s not going to tell you that. Kakashi pulls back to look at you, only to find you gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. It makes his heart ache.  

He stamps it down. “I could be,” he teases lightly—a non-answer. “Are you?” 

When you open your mouth to respond, however, he snaps his hips forward suddenly to make you trip over your words. “I—shit,” you swear, and his eyes shine with silent laughter. Your own narrow playfully as you add, “I could be too, if you keep that up.”  

“Really?” 

To pick on you a little, Kakashi withdraws from your tight heat more slowly than he has all night, agonisingly slowly, until only the head of him remains inside; and then he lingers there, purposely, until the stirrings of impatience start to take you over.  

It’s cute, the frown you give him, the pout he sees beginning to form. “Don’t be mean,” you tell him sulkily. 

His lips tug up at the corners, revealing a hint of prominent canine. “Maa, I didn’t realise you were in a rush,” Kakashi drawls. “And here I wanted to take my time with you.”  

Before you can read too much into what he’s just said, he slams home. Hard.

Your startled gasp brings on a flicker of self-satisfaction deep within. Kakashi relishes in the knowledge that only he can make you feel like this—especially when he starts to fuck you in earnest, prompting you to fling your arms around his shoulders.  

“F-Fuck, Kakashi, oh my god—” 

“That’s it,” he encourages gently. “Hold onto me.”

He likes the closeness of it, the intimacy.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, which brings about a funny feeling in his chest that he can’t quite shake—something warm and gooey and affectionate.  

Kakashi stamps that down, too, and traces the line of your neck with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin until you shiver. Seeing your throat so littered with love bites unearths something within him, something primal that he’s always refused to name. He likes seeing the marks he’s left on you. He wants them to mean something.

He wants them to mean that you’re his. 

He’s too attached. 

To distract himself from what he intends to do in the morning, Kakashi picks up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh as he drives his hips into yours, fast and rough, exactly how you want it.  

It won't last long. He’s too worked up. 

Kakashi knows he’ll come before you do if he continues like this, but when he tries to slow down, you dig your heels insistently into his ass. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, please—” 

“I’ll have to pull out soon,” he says raggedly, even though the thought of finishing in you already has him ready to blow.

When Kakashi feels you lock your ankles behind him, he nearly does.  

“I want it inside,” you whine, your breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear.  

His thoughts screech to a halt. You want him to come inside you, knock you up— 

“Fuck,” he curses, stopping abruptly, buried all the way to the hilt. His cock throbs wildly, desperate for release, forcing him to tightly grip the the sheets above your head in order to stave it off. 

If he moves right now, he’s done for.  

When you make a quiet, frustrated sound deep in your throat and wiggle your hips, Kakashi barely manages to hang on. He can feel that tell-tale flutter inside of you, the one that indicates exactly how close you are, but he’s closer. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants as he tries to hold himself together.  

You finish first. Always. 

“Don’t be mean,” you say again, but you sound a little more petulant this time.  

Kakashi lets out an exhausted sort of laugh and presses a wet smack of a kiss against your cheek, making you giggle. “You like it when I’m mean.”  

“I like it when you’re nice,” you clap back, voice breathy. 

Kakashi hums knowingly. “All right. I can be nice.”  

Then he pulls back just enough to pepper your face with kisses, and you squeal in delight, though it soon tapers off into a moan when he starts to trail them down your throat, each one more sensual than the last. He palms one of your breasts, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple— 

“Come on,” you whine, digging your heels into his ass a second time. 

No more teasing. You want him to be nice.

You inhale sharply when Kakashi picks back up where he left off, this time with quick, shallow thrusts that target your g-spot. He smooths his hand down your side, savouring the softness of your skin, then he slides it in between your bodies to rub your clit in just the way you like—the way he remembers you like, because he’s too fucking attached. And sure enough, when your hips buck from the added sensation, he knows that it’s working for you. 

“If you—If you edge me again, I swear to god—” 

Upon hearing the indignation in your voice, Kakashi laughs softly. “I won’t.” 

Then he remembers that he won’t have a chance to edge you again. Not after tonight. 

His jaw tenses at the reminder. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, holding onto him, needing him, which pulls him right back into the present. “Come with me. Please?” 

Kakashi bites back a groan and slides in deeper, readying to do what his body craves. 

No. He can’t come with you. He’d have to finish inside in order for that to happen. 

And just like that, he’s back to teetering on the edge. The filth his mind conjures nearly proves to be his undoing—a vivid image of your tight, wet cunt wringing out every drop of his cum until it takes, tying you to him, making you need him. Making you his. The threat of it simmers under his skin, but it’s starting to feel more like a guarantee. 

Get her there, then pull out. 

Kakashi repeats those words in his head like a mantra, over and over, like it’ll ensure that he lasts, and it works—at least until you start to move your hips in time with his thrusts. You meet him at the perfect angle, sucking him deep on every stroke, allowing him to slide just beyond your cervix and into that spot that sends your voice into a fever pitch. 

A choked sob escapes you as you rake your nails down his back, leaving red lines in your wake. The sting of it only sends him higher, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder to prevent himself from blowing too soon. 

“Right there, Kakashi, right fucking there—” 

Right there, so deep within you that if he came right now— 

He groans when he imagines what would happen, and it all ends with his baby in your belly and his family crest on your back. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, yet he fucks into you with purpose, now—hard, deep, powerful thrusts that knock your headboard into the wall. 

Kakashi knows exactly what that purpose is. The primal part of his brain won’t let him forget it. 

“Yes, just like that, fuck me, make me fucking yours—” 

He kisses you to shut you up, because if he hears another syllable, he’s sure to fill you to the brim. It’s not a gentle kiss, not now. He holds your head in place with a firm grip on your jaw, shoves his tongue into your mouth, and still, he recites his mantra. 

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then—  

You jerk your head away to gulp in a breath of fresh air, chest heaving from exertion, and Kakashi’s eyes sweep over your face for any sign of discomfort. What he finds is the opposite, and he drinks in the pleasured scrunch of your brows, the hazy flutter of your eyelids, the kiss-swollen state of your lips. 

Watching your muscles tense and strain as you struggle to keep your eyes on his is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced. “Come inside me,” you beg, and he can hear the desperation there, see it written all over your pretty face. “I need it, I fucking need it, Kakashi, give me your cum—” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he chokes out. Anything for you. Anything you want. 

The way your fingers wrench into his hair belies a hunger that matches his own as you drag him down for another kiss, messy and insistent, demanding that he make good on his promise to pump you full. He can feel the ripple of your inner walls as you come undone, feel the painfully tight squeeze of your legs around his waist, holding him there, ensuring that he stays; and never in his life has he felt so overwhelmed.  

He can’t pull out. Not now. Not when you’re so willing to milk him dry. 

Kakashi kisses you with everything that he is as he shoves himself impossibly deep inside of you, acting solely on instinct to drown your cervix in hot, sticky spend. He lets out a sound of pure male satisfaction that you eagerly swallow down, your tongue massaging his in tune with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself inside of you, painting your insides white.

It feels good. It feels right. 

He’s too attached. 

He doesn’t care. 

As he comes down from his high, all Kakashi can think about is how fucking risky it is, what he’s just done, which only ruins him more when the post-orgasm clarity finally hits. 

Why the hell did he do that?  

What the hell did he do?

Your thighs tremble and shake, a sign that he’s done his job well, though he feels no pride in it—just a growing sense of panic.  

He needs to go. He needs to go right now. Not tomorrow. Now. He needs to get the hell out of here and never look back, right fucking now.  

Then he hears your quiet sob, and his heart leaps into his throat. Kakashi jerks his head down to look at you, and when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, he actually does panic.  

“Did I—Shit,” he quickly pulls out to check on you, more attentive than he’s ever been, “Did I hurt you?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally hurt a woman during sex, but he really should have taken it easier on you. He probably went too deep, hit your cervix too hard. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I’m fine. I just... I really missed you.” 

Fuck. Don’t say that. You’ll make him want to stay.  

His eyes soften as they trail over your features – the colour of your irises, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips – and he gently smooths your tears away with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shake your head and offer him a watery smile. “I also came really, really hard,” you add matter-of-factly, and he huffs out a relieved laugh. It’s hormonal, then. “They’re happy tears, Kakashi. Calm down.” 

Teasing or not, someone telling him of all people to calm down is an otherworldly experience. The phrase lands strangely, and for the first time since he came to see you tonight, his thoughts quiet down to a dull background murmur. 

They’re happy tears, you said. 

You’re happy with him. 

He’s happy with you, too. He doesn’t want to go. 

You frown, then, and lean up onto your elbows to look at him more closely. “What’s wrong?”  

Kakashi can’t be sure what you see in his expression to warrant that sort of question, but the fight finally leaves him. He sits back on his heels and drags a hand down his face, feeling defeated for a reason he can’t explain.  

“I was just...” Happy, for a moment. Happy to be with you. “Worried,” he finishes lamely. He can’t look at you, not when he feels the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. 

You laugh and gently cup the side of his face, turning him back towards you. “Okay. Well, I’m fine,” you pat his cheek in playful reprimand, “but I am leaking all over my clean sheets, and it’s your fault, so...”  

That draws his attention. When Kakashi sees the creamy mess spilling out of you, his flaccid cock twitches with interest even after he remembers why his stomach is in knots.  

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, transfixed by the sight. 

He wants to do it again.

He shouldn’t want to do it again. He feels fucking crazy for having done it once already, when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship, let alone in any way prepared for a child. But again? A second time? He’d have to be certifiably insane. 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, and Kakashi wonders how the hell you can possibly be taking it so in stride. He came a lot. There’s so much of it dripping out onto the sheets that it’s starting to create a small puddle under your ass, and there’s even more inside of you—a lot more, judging by how hard he came. 

It might take. It might seriously take, and you think it’s fine? 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him, and his eyes snap back up to yours. He’s in his head again, you mean. Then you chew your lip for a moment, hesitation evident, before you ask carefully, “You’ve been acting a little… off tonight. Is everything okay?”  

Every single one of his instincts is telling him to run. That’s where this conversation always leads, but he’s not ready for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m fine.” 

When you frown at him, skeptical, Kakashi shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.  

“Okay. I won’t pry. But, um, I’m here. You know. If you ever need to talk.” You say it a little awkwardly, like you aren’t sure if he’d be offended by the suggestion, and the worried crease between your brows only grows at whatever you see in his expression. “Or... Or not.” 

You laugh nervously, then, and shift away from him, only to wrinkle your nose when more of his cum oozes out of you.  

It’s cute. You’re cute. 

“You said it’s fine. Why?” The question leaves him before he even thinks it through, but it’s too late, now.  

“What?” 

This wasn’t the first time he’s come inside of you, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly the riskiest. “I finished inside. Aren’t you upset?” 

“What do you mean? You finish inside me all the—” Then you stop, and your brows shoot straight up onto your forehead. “Wait, is this about my birth control?”  

“Well, it’s overdue, isn’t it?”  

You stare at him for a prolonged moment, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head. Then your nostrils flare. “Are you kidding me? You thought my birth control was overdue, and you still—” Scandalised, you slap him on the arm. “Kakashi!” 

Oh. Well. It must not be overdue yet, then. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him come inside if there was a chance that you might conceive. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“That’s so bad! What if you got me pregnant?” 

A lick of heat shoots up his spine upon hearing you give voice to what’s been on his mind all night. Kakashi stares at you, wide eyed, and blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.  

You study his face for a moment, before you purse your lips, looking a little troubled. Or pissed off. He can’t really tell. “I mean... Did you want to get me pregnant?” 

“No,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning hot because yes, he did, but not for real.  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, and...”  

And how the hell is he supposed to explain himself? Neither of you are exactly vanilla, you’ve explored a number of kinks together, but this is something else entirely. Then again, a breeding kink would make the most sense out of any, considering it stems from a biological urge to procreate. 

But would you even believe him if he said he only gets off to the fantasy of it, and not the reality? Because if a woman ever said that to him, he’d get the hell out of dodge as fast as he could. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips, then, a knowing smile, and Kakashi quickly averts his eyes to the window, embarrassed. 

“You like it, don’t you?” you hum, seductively walking your fingers along his bare shoulders. “You like the idea of knocking me up.” 

Refusing to look at you, Kakashi clears his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that comes on from your suggestive tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” The sheets rustle as you reposition yourself, and then, when your fingers delicately wrap around his cock, he inhales sharply and bites the inside of his cheek. “Then why are you so hard?”  

And he is, too. He’s already fully erect and ready for another round, and he knows that there’s no way to lie his way out of it anymore. As you start to work your hand over him in slow, sensual strokes, up and down, coaxing the answer out of him, his head drops back. “Because,” he rasps.  

The sheets shift again, and then you crawl into his lap. He welcomes you gladly, splaying his hand over your lower back to steady you, though he still can’t meet your gaze. He’s too embarrassed. 

“Because why?” you hum. Kakashi lets out a pleasured sigh as you kiss and suck your way up the side of his neck, stroking him steadily, before you purr into his ear, “Because you want to give me a baby?” 

A soft sound of approval rips out of his throat, and his cock twitches into your palm. “Don’t—Don’t say that,” he pleads. 

“Hm? Why not?” 

To hell with it. No sense in hiding it anymore. “Because I might actually do it.” 

“Yeah?” Your teeth tug playfully at his earlobe before you pull back to look at him, and Kakashi finally wills himself to meet your sultry gaze, humiliated though he is. “You know,” you muse, “I don’t like condoms for a reason. I wonder why?” 

The breath leaves his lungs with a whoosh.

Oh, he should have known. You’re just as filthy as he is. Of course you’d have a breeding kink, too, though he’s exceedingly grateful that you’d kept it to yourself until now. You’ve never been shy about sharing the things you enjoy, which means you probably figured out how he’d react. That’s the only explanation. 

He likes that you understand him as well as you do. 

He likes you.

“I think I might be able to guess,” Kakashi says knowingly, a smile playing at his lips. When he leans in to kiss you again, all he can think is: maybe it’s not a bad thing to be too attached. 

-

Snippet #1:

“You said it was overdue,” Kakashi tells you pointedly.

“No, I said I needed to make an appointment,” you correct, and he can see that you’re struggling not to laugh. “I still have, like, a week left on it. Ish. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

While you cook breakfast for the two of you, Kakashi wraps his arms around your waist from behind and traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.  “What if I don’t want to be careful?”  

He feels the shiver wrack your body, but then you do laugh at him. “Down, boy. Three rounds wasn’t enough for you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kakashi pulls you back against him, allowing you to feel the answer for yourself, hard and insistent against your ass. “You tell me.” 

-

Snippet #2:

Kakashi hides his face in your pillow, feeling distinctly vulnerable without his mask. “Don’t tease me,” he groans, muffled. “I have a delicate constitution.” 

You cackle at his discomfort, like the cruel woman you are. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m really, really curious.” Then you hum thoughtfully. “Do you want to know one of mine?” 

He lifts his head just enough to reveal one curious eye. 

You squirm a little, then, like you’re finally starting to realise exactly how embarrassing it is to talk about. “I, um...” A pause. “So, you know how...” Another pause, and you take a deep breath. “Okay. I like to imagine that I'm being used to—to repopulate a clan, I guess. Just, over and over. Lots of kids. But not for real.” 

He feels another jolt of arousal at your admission. 

Looks like you’re on the same page, then. 

Then Kakashi leans up onto his elbow to regard you properly, and then he lifts an eyebrow, as if to point out how closely that particular fantasy hits to home. 

That’s when you seem to realise who you’re talking to – the sole remaining member of a clan that could probably stand to be repopulated – and your eyes go wide, before you nearly trip over yourself to add, “It—It has nothing to do with your clan, specifically, Kakashi, it’s just—” 

“A fantasy,” he finishes for you, amused. 

 You worry your lip between your teeth and nod. 

“Well,” Kakashi says, considering his answer for a moment, “I might have imagined that, too. Specifically.” Then he gives you a roguish grin, intending to pay you back in kind for your teasing. “How many children do you think would be enough for my clan to be sufficiently repopulated, hm? I’m thinking eight.” 

Mortified, you bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god! Eight?” 

Payback’s a bitch. “Well, I was originally going to say ten, but—” 

When you squeal in embarrassment and yank the blankets over your head, Kakashi barely manages to stifle a laugh.  

—

A/N: This is the first thing I've posted in a hot minute, so your feedback would mean a lot - please let me know what you think :)