#that he honest to god tries to shake his hand...

[hannahssimblr]

She’s with the cocaine guy now, the girl with the pink hair. Forlorn look on her face as she tries to get him to drink some water. I feel her eyes on me as I pass. Of course they know each other, those two. I should have guessed. They’re probably on the same drugs. 

Evie’s in the booths now, with Claire, Shane and Jen. A jolt of anxiety at the sight of her there beside her bags of gifts, still crushed into the corner of the seats, but I adopt a nice casual stride over, drop onto the seat beside her.

“Hey,” she says, and smiles faintly before gazing across the bar to the table I just passed, brows knitting.

“Yeah, hey."

I nudge her gently. 

“Hey, who are those two? They’re a bit… intense.”

“Oh, they’re… from college.”

“Okay, well, can I be honest?”

“Yeah,” eyes on me now.

“That girl is weird. She was telling me about her polyamorous relationship and how her boyfriend is into bondage. Offered to tie me up in his house if I came home with them.”

Evie’s face twitches, then smooths out into something neutral, like a learned response. “Hm, okay. And what did you say to that?”

“Obviously I was like, fuck yes. Gimme some of that.”

She tries to smile, but it flattens. She tucks her hair behind her ear, looks away. “Okay, well, that’s clearly the only acceptable response.”

“Yeah, good offer, right?”

“Right. And him?” She gestures toward the guy, forehead on the table now, the girl scanning the place desperately for someone else. “Did he say something to you?” 

“Not really, just tried to sell me bag in the toilets.” 

“Oh.”

“I actually walked in on him trying to do a bump off the wall mirror.”

Her palm comes to her forehead. “Oh, God,” she breathes. “Sorry, I actually am just feeling a bit stupid.”

“What? Why?”

“No, I just thought he was drunk.”

“Um,” another glance at him, probably completely unconscious at this point. “He’s probably drunk, too, but nah, he’s out of it, Evie. No doubt. I saw him–yeah, it’s definitely drugs.” 

“Oh, well, that’s awful then.”

I can’t help smiling a bit. Seeing an innocence in her distress, finding it a bit endearing. An urge comes to comfort her about it, teeth worrying at her lip like a puritanical fourteen year old who just found out her friend went rogue and tried a cigarette. 

“It’s not that awful though, is it?” I say, dipping my head to level my gaze with hers. “You know, a bit of coke. It’s–everyone does it a bit, don’t they?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d know since you live here now, is all.” 

She scoffs in outrage, indignant that others would have the temerity. “Well excuse me, but am I the only one who actually cared about the anti-drug posters hanging up in school? Of the woman with the horrible scabs all over her face? I couldn’t look at it. I had to avert my eyes if it was lunchtime, or whatever, and I was trying to eat a sandwich.”

I want very badly to laugh, but her face is so serious. Huff instead, an easy shrug, like, yeah, fair point. “I suppose some people get scabbed up a bit, to be honest, yeah. That’s a legitimate concern. Still, people will do whatever is fun. I think you’d probably have what’s considered quite an extreme view.”

“Do you do them?”

I blink. “Drugs?”

“Yes.”

Pick a thread in my jeans. From catching myself on a rogue nail in some customer’s stairwell. “I have done, yeah. Not lately.”

“Hm.”

“Have I changed in your eyes?” 

“No, it’s… like. I just hate to feel naïve.”

“It’s fine.”

She brings her fingers to her nose, pinching at her nostrils. Like she’s wiping away phantom powder. Her nails are short, bitten-looking. “Maybe I should get with the times and start doing them, you think?” 

I laugh. “Yes, Evie. Very much your style.”

“Can’t imagine it, either.” A shake of her head, a look of amusement in her eyes, as she tries to picture it. Impossible. Like if Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls lit up a smoke. Makes me want to laugh—the absurdity, until a wave of protectiveness hits me. Glancing again at the table with those two as the backs of my hands prickle. Strange dread. A sort of knowing. 

She squeezes her hand, flexes it before reaching across the table for her drink. I remember that specific gesture. I learned she did it when she was nervous. When someone in the group asked her a question. Before she leaped off the rocks into the sea. She did it with me when she knew I was about to kiss her, neon light glowing through her ears like paper. Looking so serious, like kissing me back was something that required thought and preparation. It nearly killed me how soft she was. Now I don’t know what she is. 

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s because you want to. Not because of anyone else,” I say, then shrink, instantly cringing. Who am I, her dad? Sounding so superior, but I can’t help the way my voice is. How it reflects this horror I feel of these weird people circling her in the water. 

We both fall quiet for a beat, music thudding around us. Stupid lyrics, Shawty fire-burning on the dancefloor, or whatever her current dilemma is. I shouldn’t have said anything to Evie. Should have said “cool” or something, then I wouldn’t have sounded like a cop.  

“All I want to do is leave this party, to be honest,” she says, hands moving now to her stomach, chuckling at herself. “I’m so hungry. All I can think about is food.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m starving.” 

“You want to get some?”

Her expression is timid, embarrassed to have to say it. “Nah, it’s too late. Everywhere is probably closed.” 

Slip my phone from my pocket, then. It’s near one AM. “There’s places still open for sure. We can get the gang moving, if you want.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “I feel so bad saying it, but yeah, I actually do want to go. Is that rotten of me?”

“No, never.” I wave across to the others, deep in their own conversation. “Food,” I yell. “We’re getting food. Are you guys in?”

“Are you mad?” says Jen. “After that feast we had earlier? No, I’m good. You go.” The others nod. 

I turn back to Evie. “You okay if it’s just me?”

A flicker of something—panic?—crosses her face before it smooths into something practiced. My God. When did she learn to hide like that?

“It’s grand,” she says. “Yeah, we can go. I really just want food in me.” She finds her coat in the pile and stands up to shrug into it. “Claire, we’ll meet you back here in, like, half an hour.”

Claire looks startled. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

I find my coat, too. Struggle into it and zip it all the way up, feeling the whole time Shane’s eyes on the side of my face. I look at him. “You better mind her,” he says. Joking voice, sure, but his eyes harbour a distinct threat. 

“Christ, Shane, relax,” Evie says. “He’ll hardly let me get killed at the kebab shop.”

We move towards the exit then, together, the sleeve of my puffer coat pressing into hers for a moment on the stairs, past party-goers slumped across the steps, boots kicked off, tights laddered at the toes. 

“You don’t mind abandoning your own birthday thing?” I say, and Evie laughs.

“No, not at all,” she says. “Get me out of here, quick.”

“Let’s go, then.” I hold the door for her, and we step out, shoulder to shoulder, onto the snowy street.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[patrice-bergerons]

Torchwood S1E13, End of Days

or, when your boss/the love of your life comes back from the dead when you thought you'd lost him for good this time and you try to shake his hand

[yuki-world]

秦彻 | SYLUS ; PLAN

summary | sylus sets a time limit for you to retrieve the brooch from him. unfortunately, you don't get it in time no matter how hard you try, but fortunately, it's sylus you're dealing with.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, mention of handcuffs, vaginal penetration, creampie, 2.9k words

a/n : inspired by his affinity lvl 15 story (?) aka the one where he gets handcuffed to the bed

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“oh,” sylus raises a brow, clearly finding this whole situation amusing. he’s handcuffed to his own bed with you straddling him, teasing him by tracing your index finger over his body. just how cocky were you?

sylus takes a deep breath in. “so you think you’ve got me now, is that right?”

you hum in response, stopping your finger near his abdomen. “think? no, i know,” you reply confidently, letting out a slight scoff. there was no way he could move, so you could find it freely as you pleased. this was the best scenario, and luckily you didn’t fumble it as this was your last attempt before the deadline reached.

unbeknownst to you, it’s not that he couldn’t un-cuff himselfー it’s actually quite offensive that you think that. it’s more of him wanting to see how far you would go if he wasn’t going to intervene, because it’s fun. how adorable you look thinking you’ve won, how eager you look to finally win against him in something. and so, he watches. eyes locked onto your every action and reaction as you try to find the hidden brooch.

you start at the top of his robe near his neck, your hand making it’s way down, slowly feeling for any small and hard object. you pat at the material rested on his chest, but still no sign.

sylus gives you a small smirk, and you narrow your eyes. you didn’t exactly trust him per se, even if he promised to keep his word. what if this was just a trick? what if he was just toying with you? what if he didn’t have the brooch?”

“are you sure the brooch is even on you?” you questioned. his growing smirk was only making you more suspicious by the minute.

“accusing me, kitten?” he asks, feigning disappointment. “you haven’t even finished looking.”

you roll your eyes at his words, mumbling a small whatever under your breath as you continued looking for the brooch. you smoothed your palm down his robe, patting around his waist. still nothing.

you were getting desperate at this pointー you were almost there. this was the best effort you’ve made so far, and you weren’t going to let your plan fail so easily. you swallow, trailing your hand further down his robe, albeit hesitantly. your hands were at his thigh, the thin material the only thing separating your skin with his.

mentally shaking your head to snap out of your thoughts, you continue feeling for where the brooch might be.

suddenly, you feel something hard. it’s hard, no mistake, but it was far from small.

…that’s definitely not the brooch.

“i’d be careful where you’re touching,” sylus speaks, his voice almost making you jump as you retracted your hand quickly. a tinge of red spreads across your cheeks, and you try to defend yourself.

“shutー quiet,” you stuttered. “i didn’t mean to, okay? sorry,” you apologized, breathing out as you tried to maintain your composure. focus on the goal, you repeated to yourself over and over again. you meet his eyes for a split second, and god, you want to wipe that smirk off his face.

he lets out a breathy chuckle, watching you get distracted as you panicked to look for the brooch.

you finally get to the bottom of his robe, but you find absolutely nothing. where else could he have hidden it? he had to have it with him… that was a rule, right?

“i swear, you’re playing with me,” you accused, defeated. how was this possible? you set everything up perfectly, and the one thing you couldn’t do was find the broochー despite being able to check him freely? “be honest, is it really on you or not?” you asked, squishing his cheeks together with your hand so he looks at you.

“oh, look at that,” he states, ignoring your question before tilting his head up slightly, glancing at the clock, then back to you.

“time’s up.”

you hear a soft click, your head snapping to the sound of the handcuffs unlocking as you let your hand fall.

your body moves instinctively, feet touching the floor as you push yourself off his bed to make your escape.

…only for him pull you back and throw you onto the bed, landing with a soft thud against his pillow. you try to lift yourself up again, but your wrists get pinned by his larger handsー all the more making it hard to move. you start to squirm a little, but decide it’s of no use.

“you really are naive,” sylus sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. how you thought a pair of poorly made handcuffs were supposed to restrict him was beyond comprehendible. “since you didn’t find it in time, i get to have my way with you.”

“whatever, justー just get on with it.” you roll your eyes, trying to act nonchalant, but you can’t help the sudden wave of pleasure that shoots through your body at his words.

complying, he slams his lips against yours, the kiss filled with hunger and greed. the kiss was far from sloppyー he made sure you felt everything, both physically and emotionally, very calculated. his tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip, and you gasp.

he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, the wet sounds of making out filling his room as he continued to french kiss you.

removing his hand from one of your wrists, he opts to grip your waist instead, subtly pushing your shirt higher and higher, until your bra was exposed.

you shouldn’t be enjoying this. yet here you were, squirming under him as your thighs rubbed against one another, eager to feel any sort of stimulation. his mouth felt so warm as he continued kissing you, and so did the atmosphere.

feeling the movement of your thighs, he lets go of your other wrist, spreading your legs apart before slotting himself in between them, his crotch flushed against you. he doesn’t break the kiss once, letting you grind onto his hardened bulge to relieve yourself.

“sylus,” you breathed out, pushing him away gently to catch your breath. you panted softly, a string of saliva connecting the both of your lips as he pulled back.

“what, kitten?” he leans back smugly, admiring how red your lips were. all his doing, of course. “you can’t even handle a bit of kissing?”

“that was not a bit of kissing,” you retorted, looking away. you noticed your clothes were starting to stick onto your skin, presumably from the heat. you start to slowly unbutton your shirt one by one, but he’s not having any of that.

he smacks your hand away, ripping open the shirt like it was paper, some buttons popping off. you couldn't even protest as he pulled your bra down, exposing your tits.

"what the fuck, sylus! that was my favorite shirt," you scolded, furrowing your brows. it was one of the few shirts you decided to splurge on after contemplating for a long time, and the fact that he just tore it like that...

"how much?" he questions, squeezing one of your tits.

"what? like, a little over a hundredー"

"insignificant," he cuts you off, latching onto one of your nipples. he already knew whatever value you said wouldn't matter much to himー he could buy you a million of those shirts and there wouldn't be a single dent to his bank account.

he continues to suck and fondle, alternating between each tit to give them equal attention. he bites occasionally, each time making you gasp. you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling every time he sucked or bit too hard.

after what felt like hours, sylus finally pulls off you with a pop, staring at the red marks, shining with his saliva around your tits. even better that it's from his doing. he lets out a satisfied sigh.

"don't... look at me like that," you whisper, covering his eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed.

he lets out a breathy chuckle, bringing your palm to his lips to kiss it. "you're getting shy now? you weren't earlier when you were touching me all over," he points out, pulling your pants and underwear off in one clean motion.

"and don't think i forgot when you brushed against my..."

"that's 'cause i was looking for the brooch!" you argued, letting out a defeated sigh. "...just fuck me already."

"it's interesting that you think you're in any position to make demands." he flips you over onto your hands and knees, giving your ass a loud slap, resonating throughout the room. "ass up, don't take your own sweet time."

you clicked your tongue at his attitude, but did as he told anyway. as much as you didn't want to admit it, you were eager. the last time the both of you had sex, he fucked you until you were on the brink of tears, moaning and drooling into his pillows that he had to change them after. it was amazing, to say the very least.

sylus shifts behind you, undoing his robe and getting rid of his boxers quickly. his cock stands erected, large obviously, and it's clear he's already been hard since the beginning. even if you don't turn around to look, you knew just how much pre-cum was leaking from his cock as he rubs the coated tip between your embarrassingly wet folds. so much so that you didn't even need any preparationー not even his fingers to spread your pussy open.

he gives your ass another slap again, before guiding his cock into your tight entrance. your pussy stretches around him to accommodate his girth, instinctively clamping down the moment it entered.

"ngh, sylus," you moan, fingers gripping onto his sheets, pillows, anything you could grab on to as he pushed more of his inches into you. you'll never get enough of how big he feels inside you, the empty space previously now filled to the brim with his cock, stretching you out to mold your insides to the shape of him.

"fuck... always so fucking tight, huh?" sylus exhales, bottoming out inside you. though, there was still some of his length left that your cunt couldn't take in. "this cock is too big for you."

you whined in response, spreading your legs further to take more of him in comfortably, but you could barely do so from how filled you were. there was simply no space inside you.

"aw, too much for you, kitten?" he mocks. pulling back to leave only his tip in, before slamming his entire length back into you.

"shutー ahー up!" you cry out as you jerk forward from the sheer force of his thrust. his hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to meet each thrust of his cock. you should've known he was only going to go faster, his seemingly sweet and slow pace disappearing the moment he starts pounding into you at rapid speeds. his balls were hitting your clit every time he pushed his cock in, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

your sounds get louder and louder each time he fucks into you, so much so that you have to bury your face into the pillow to muffle your moans. it was going to happen againー his pillows stained with drool.

he slammed his hips against your ass harder, hoping to elicit more sounds from you. "sylus... mmph!" you moan, his name coming out unclear from how muffled you were.

"hmm?" he hums in question, pulling your hair to lift your face off the pillow. "who said that you could hide your pretty sounds?"

sylus pulls out before flipping you over again, this time taking a few seconds to admire your fucked out state. your face was flushed, half-lidded eyes and drool dribbling down the side of your mouth. he doesn't think he's ever seen a prettier sight.

"you're drooling," he points out, using his thumb to wipe some of it away. well, you knew that, but you don't care, because at this point, all you can think about is his cock. you've never been more grateful to him, more thankful that you met him, as he pushes his cock into you once more.

your walls feel so good around him, he has to take a brief breather before starting to thrust. such a tight cunt, he thinks again, because it's trueー he's never fucked this good of a pussy. wrapping around him so warmly, clenching onto him in all the right ways. he could die happy like this. he could die happy with you.

"fuck me, fuck meー fuck me," you beg, snapping him out of his thoughts. you push up against him, trying to move on your own, to take more of him in, to just do something. the lack of stimulation was killing you.

"stop," he hisses, gripping your thigh to stop you. "you're going to hurt yourself. let me do it."

and then he starts again, fucking you with so much vigor that you mentally question just how much stamina he actually has. he never lets his pace falter from then onwards, railing you as the bed starts to move along to his movements.

with no pillow to bury your face in, you couldn't hide your moans even if you wanted toー exactly what he wanted. you were screaming, "harderー fuckー yes! right there!"

"so noisy in bed," he groans, hands reaching up to intertwine your fingers with him. a small and sweet gesture, the complete opposite of how roughly he was ramming his cock deep inside you. repeatedly, at that same exact spot that had your eyes rolling backwards. if anyone was outside his doorー hell, not even outside his door, maybe even at a few rooms away, they would definitely still be able to hear you.

you wrap your legs around his waist tightly, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you thought. "sylus, i wannaー make me cum, please!"

no, he wanted to say. this wasn't your reward, you didn't even find the brooch. but he couldn't. because he was close too.

sylus wasn't going to deny you even if you didn't ask so nicely, even if you demanded him to. he knows the exact look on your face as you cum, and it's the same, perfect, expression that he loves so much each time. at your request, he lets go of one of your hands, dipping his fingers into your mouth before trailing down to rub circles around your clit.

unnecessary? yes, you were already soaking wet. just for good measure, he thinks. besides, you looked sexy with your mouth wrapped around his fingers, almost struggling with how much larger his digits were.

you start squirming, squeezing his hand tighter as he continues thrusting while rubbing, a deadly combo. "fuckー thaaat's it, be a good girl and cream on my cock."

"oh myー sylus!" you scream out his name as your orgasm hits you, eyes rolling back, nails digging into his hand, and your back arches off the bed. your pussy starts tightening and spasming around him like a vice. he feels you get so much, so much wetter that his cock almost slips out of you as he pulls back.

"such a sweet expression," he groans at the sight, pushing your legs back as he tries to angle his cock deeper into you. you try to close your legs from sensitivity, but he simply won't let you, not when he's so close to cumming.

"ohー yes, fuuuck..." he throws his head back with a final snap of his hips, his cock pulsing inside you as he pumps your pussy with cum, his thick load of semen coating your insides with warmth.

coming down from his high with a few more weak spurts of cum, he lets his head fall back down, a contented sigh as he pulls out slowly with a loud squelch. you whimper at the sensitivity, but also at the loss of his cock. his load takes a few seconds to dribble out, thick and creamy, leaving a trail down to your ass.

"satisfied?" he tilts his head, letting your legs down. "seems like you're done for tonight."

"yeah," you breathe out in exhaustion, feeling his hand caress your cheek. "the brooch," you paused, suddenly remembering.

"where is it, and... what's the actual punishment?"

sylus looks at you amused, reaching over to his robe tossed somewhere on the floor, unpinning the brooch before holding it towards you. "looking for this?"

you widened your eyes. how could it have been in his robe? you literally searched everywhereー

"i know what's going on in that little head of yours," he sighs, opening your palm to put it in your hand. "you got distracted, remember? you brushed past it and didn't even notice, kitten."

you groaned in frustration, mad at yourself that you didn't even notice. you basically just accused him for nothing.

"...and the actual punishment? for not getting the brooch in time?"

"no punishment," he states smugly, watching your lips part in disbelief.

"seriously? i put in a lot of effort into these plans, you know!" you smack his chest lightly. "i can't believe you."

"i'd say you gained a lot more than you lost," he says as a matter-of-factly, eyeing the white mess oozing out of your cunt.

"...shut up."

ー @yuki-world

[sugoroo]

#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a partner who likes to bite

Okay, anon. I'll be honest. When I read this prompt, I immediately thought of "cute aggression." Not sure if that is what you meant or if you meant something else, but that's what I went with. Kinda. There are some more suggestive undertones in a few of these. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you so much for sending it in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, biting, cute aggression, established relationship, teasing, flirting, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Are you teething?” asks John. “Do I need to get you a pacifier?"

John sounds annoyed, but you know that he isn’t. Not really. He happily puts up with your shenanigans.

"Can't help it,” you reply, showing your teeth. “You're too tempting."

The two of you are curled up in bed. He’s trying to read. And you’re trying to annoy him. When John is shirtless and reclined in bed, you have a clear view of his muscles. The temptation is always there, and it’s a pull you can’t resist. The aggression isn’t violent. It’s just overwhelming.

Clearly not liking your answer, John grunts. He tosses his book aside, uncaring of losing his place. One moment you’re next to him, and the next you’re fully on your back, trapped beneath his weight.

Giggling, you playfully shove at him, but there is no intention to escape from him. It’s not like you could break out of his grasp if you tried. He is warm and taut. A weighted blanket. This is what you wanted all along. To be beneath him.

"Stop."

He nips at your throat.

"Fucking."

Then he nips at your shoulder.

"Biting."

Finally, John nips at your upper arm.

"Me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Someone's going to think you're abusing me."

You grimace, even though Kyle’s tone is teasing and not at all upset. His arm and neck are peppered with small teeth marks. Most of them look like random little indents in the skin while others appear to be in the beginnings of bruising.

“I might have used excessive force,” you murmur, thumbing one of the marks.

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. The need to do it is overwhelming. Most times, you shake it off.

Kyle grins. “I like them. They’re little reminders.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Reminders of what?”

Kyle leans in, hand sliding up your back to grasp the nape of your neck. Pulling you close, Kyle lowers his voice. It’s all sultry smoothness.

"Of how many times I can make you come,” he coos.

“Kyle!” You lightly smack his chest, face heating as his gaze softens.

He shrugs. “You also just like to bite me.”

“Can’t help it,” you mutter.

“You’re like one of those small dogs,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you dare,” you scold.

“Adorable. Sweet at first glance.”

“Kyle.”

“Mean bite.”

“I swear to God, Kyle.”

“A—”

You place your hand over his mouth.

John "Soap" MacTavish

With Johnny as your bed, you spread yourself over him, head resting against his right pectoral. A rugby game is on. Johnny’s completely focused on the television as the two teams move about the field like small insects.

Johnny’s large, muscled arms are draped over your back, but his left bicep is dangerously close to your face. Every vein is pronounced. Tempting. You want to trace them with your tongue.

A naughty little urge creeps in. Makes itself known. Slithers around your brain to whisper that you should.

What’s one little bite?

It won’t hurt.

Like an itch that needs to be scratched, you lean forward, lightly chomping down on Johnny’s arm. The urge settles, the neurons in your brain content and happy.

Startled, Johnny jerks. Then, he laughs, arms tightening around you.

One second, you’re in full cuteness aggression. The next, Johnny is rolling you over, trapping you beneath him against the couch. Instead of you biting him, it’s Johnny biting you.

You shriek playfully, but he continues to nibble.

“Let me go,” you laugh. Smacking at him does nothing.

“You little goblin,” he mutters, dragging you off the couch and hauling you toward the bedroom, rugby match forgotten.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon wears only a thin, black shirt, leaving his arms bare. Your mouth waters at the sight of the protruding veins and taut muscles. The urge to touch and taste is overwhelming. It burns bright and hot beneath your skin.

"What are you looking at?" asks Simon without looking away from the menu board on the far wall.

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, glancing away like you weren’t thinking about his muscles.

A few seconds pass, and then you slip an arm between his, clinging to Simon. He doesn’t react. The menu board has his full attention. Simon is more worried about filling his stomach.

Turning your face into his arm, the urge to bite down—to unleash the aggression—wells inside you like a tsunami. At first, you resist, reminding yourself that you are in public and this behavior is inappropriate.

But you lose.

Your mouth starts to open, teeth poised to lightly bite.

“My arm isn’t a chew toy,” says Simon out of the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't bite," you mutter.

Simon slips his arm out of your grasp and then drapes it over your shoulders.

He leans in close. "You can bite me all over later."

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[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤBUTTERFLY KISSㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : When You Give Them A Soft Peck On The Lips.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

You were never one for dramatics, unlike the man currently sitting beside you. Bruce always had this ridiculous ability to make even the smallest things seem intense. Like now, as he sat on the couch in his study, one arm lazily thrown over the back, expensive whiskey in hand, looking at you like he knew every secret in the world.

You rolled your eyes. Show-off.

"You're staring," he noted, smirking.

"You look stupid," you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

Bruce chuckled, the sound deep and amused. "Mmm, that so?"

Instead of answering, you simply leaned in and pressed a quick, soft peck to his lips. Just a simple touch—barely even a second long—but when you pulled away, his smirk was gone. He blinked, looking at you like you had just flipped his entire world upside down.

Then, a slow, dangerous grin stretched across his face.

"Oh? What was that?" His voice dropped an octave, teasing yet undeniably pleased.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Felt like it."

Bruce hummed, setting his drink down. "You know, sweetheart, when you start something, you should always be ready to finish it."

You gasped as he suddenly pulled you onto his lap, trapping you with strong arms, his lips dangerously close to yours. "How about you try that again?"

You huffed, smacking his chest. "Cocky."

He only chuckled, leaning in. "Only for you, darling."

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

The second your lips touched his, it was over for you.

Dick was already the human equivalent of an overly excited golden retriever, but the moment you surprised him with a soft peck on the lips? Yeah, you weren’t getting away.

"Wait—wait, no! Come back! Do that again!"

You laughed, taking a step back, but he immediately followed, his hands gently cradling your face, lips chasing yours desperately. His eyes were wide, filled with the kind of love that could melt glaciers.

"Dick, it was just a peck!" you giggled, pressing your palms against his chest to keep some distance.

He pouted—full-on, actual pouted. "But it was so nice! And soft! And perfect! Babe, please, I need more—just one more! Just—just—"

You dodged as he tried to kiss you again, laughing as he groaned dramatically. "You're so mean!" he whined, chasing after you as you playfully ducked away.

"You're so needy!"

"I'm your man, and I deserve love! Come back here!"

Eventually, he caught you—because let’s be honest, he’s a former acrobat and you were never going to escape. He tackled you onto the couch, pinning you down with his arms as he peppered your face with soft, dramatic kisses.

"You did this to yourself!" he declared, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Regret. Instant regret."

"Liar," he grinned against your lips.

Yeah, okay. Maybe a little.

— JASON TODD ⋆

You should’ve expected this reaction. Really, you should have.

The second you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Jason’s lips, he short-circuited.

His entire body tensed like you had just struck him with a bolt of lightning. His breath hitched, hands tightening into fists at his sides. And when you pulled away—just slightly—his eyes were wide, pupils blown out, and—oh god, was he shaking?

"Jay?" you asked, tilting your head.

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. He looked utterly offended by what just happened.

"Wh—Y—you—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

You flinched at the sudden rise in his voice, barely holding back a giggle. "A kiss?"

"A—A KISS?!" His face was so red it was concerning. "YOU CAN'T JUST—JUST—DO THAT!"

You raised a brow. "Why not?"

Jason made a strangled noise, running both hands through his hair. "Because—because—that’s—" He groaned loudly, looking anywhere but at you, his ears burning red. "You can’t just go around kissing people like that!"

"I didn’t kiss ‘people.’ I kissed you."

Jason froze. His breath stuttered. Oh, you got him.

His mouth opened and closed again, as if he was trying to find an argument but failing miserably. Then, suddenly, he threw his hands up and groaned like a dying man.

"I hate you," he grumbled, shoving his face into his hands.

You smirked, poking his cheek. "No, you don't."

Jason peeked through his fingers, glaring. "...shut up."

But when you leaned in and kissed his cheek this time?

Yeah, his entire brain stopped working.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

You leaned in and pressed a soft peck to Damian’s lips, pulling away with a small smile.

He didn’t even blink. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all.

Just stared.

Like you’d just done something as mundane as handing him a pen.

You frowned. "You didn’t even close your eyes."

Damian tilted his head slightly. "Was I supposed to?"

You blinked. "I mean... yeah? That’s how it usually works."

He was completely unaffected. "If you want me to do so next time, tell me beforehand." Then, before you could even process his words, his hand grabbed your chin, tilting your face up as he leaned in.

And kissed you again.

This time, it wasn’t just a peck. His lips were soft, warm, and lingering. Not desperate, not needy, just slow and calculated—intentional. Like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his own.

When he finally pulled away, your brain had completely stopped working. But of course, he wasn’t done.

Damian smirked. "Would you like to tell me how to hold you next time as well? Perhaps where you like to be touched?"

You choked. "Damian—"

"Or," he continued, eyes glinting mischievously, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, "should I just figure it out myself?"

You shoved him, face burning, and he chuckled, looking far too smug.

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

Cass was quiet. Always quiet. You were used to it by now, the way he communicated in nods, soft looks, and the smallest of gestures.

Right now, he was standing beside you in the kitchen, nibbling on a cookie Alfred had made. His cheeks were puffed slightly, and his dark eyes were locked on yours, curious and observant as always.

You smiled. And, without warning, leaned in to press a soft peck to his lips.

Cass froze.

Like, completely.

His eyes widened—huge, round, confused puppy eyes—and his entire body locked up like a deer caught in headlights. You pulled back just a few inches, waiting for his reaction.

He just… kept staring.

Seconds passed. Then his face exploded in red.

He quickly looked away, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as his shoulders curled inward. His fingers lightly touched his lips, as if checking if what just happened was real.

"Cass?" you giggled.

No response. Just more blushing.

And then—oh. Oh my god.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and tugged on your sleeve like a little kid. Soft. Gentle. Seeking.

You tilted your head. "Hmm?"

He hesitated. Then, he tapped his lips with his index finger.

Your heart melted.

"You want... another one?" you whispered.

He nodded. Fast.

You cupped his cheek, pressing another kiss to his lips. This time, when you pulled away, he didn’t run or hide. He just clutched the fabric of your sleeve tighter, burying his burning face against your shoulder.

You stroked his hair, smiling. "You're adorable."

His muffled whimper told you he absolutely agreed.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

The second your lips brushed against Stephen’s, you knew you messed up.

Because instead of a normal reaction, he immediately threw himself onto the ground.

"OH, CRUEL FATES! WHY DO YOU TOY WITH MY HEART SO?" he bellowed, clutching his chest like he’d just been mortally wounded.

You just blinked. "Stephen—"

"TO HAVE BEEN GRACED WITH SUCH A KISS, ONLY TO HAVE IT TAKEN AWAY SO SOON—OH, THE AGONY!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples.

He gasped dramatically, rolling onto his back. "MY LOVE, DO YOU NOT SEE? I AM BUT A HUMBLE MAN, A MERE PEASANT, UNWORTHY OF YOUR DIVINE TOUCH!"

"...Stephen—"

He pointed at the ceiling. "IF I WERE TO DIE THIS VERY NIGHT, I WOULD DIE A HAPPY MAN, KNOWING THAT I HAD ONCE TASTED HEAVEN—"

"STEPHEN."

He paused, blinking up at you innocently. "Yes, my dearest?"

You crossed your arms. "Are you done?"

He sat up immediately, grinning. "Nope! Can I have another one?"

You stared at him for a moment. Then promptly turned around and walked away.

"HEY, WAIT! DON'T GO! MY HEART CAN'T HANDLE SUCH REJECTION—COME BACK, BABE, I WAS ONLY PLAYING—"

You rolled your eyes as he literally ran after you, already preparing another ridiculous speech.

You were so done.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[pinejayy]

╰➤Riding Them || One Piece

featuring: doflamingo, corazon, buggy, mihawk and ace

a/n: finally a third part for this series!! thanks for the love and support guys!! <33!! // hugs and kisses to everyone!! uwu

summary: riding these beautiful one piece men because I’m whore when it comes to anime men. 😩😩 // part 1 ,, part 2

warnings: doflamingo, nsfw, riding, buggy being a bottom, mihawk being a top, face fucking.

✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦

Doflamingo

This man is ruthless whenever you’re riding him and despite him being the bottom he still has his ways to dominate you and your feelings. And this man will degenerate you in every way possible. He’s spitting either god awful dirty things at you or sweet words. Such as !! “Such a dirty whore, you love riding my cock? Can’t get enough of it?” Or “Such a good Princess. Keep making me feel good, such a good girl.”

He gets even more rough with you when he’s had a long and hard day. He’ll just make his way towards your direction and shove you slightly towards the his private room. He doesn’t care if you’re in a middle of conversation. And once in the room he’ll sit on the bed and patted his leg. “Sit. It’s been a long day and I need a good fucking.”

And once you end up on his lap his hands are all over your body, squeezing anything he can grab. And he isn’t gentle, not wasting time he’s always striping you from your clothes, and he’s already stripping himself from everything…well besides his sunglasses. Placing sloppy kisses across your neck . “Come on princess.” He whispered, as he stroke himself. “Sit on your throne and ride away.”

And he helps you aline yourself with him, and this man is so huge and thick that you wince every time you’re in this position. Whimpering softly, as he allows you to adjust to his size, and he can’t help but have a smug smirk across his face. “So tight. So good Princess…you love riding me. Right?” And to which you moan and nod, looking at his eyes and nod. “Mm so good Doffy…so big…you fill me up so good..”

Doflamingo loves watching you shake in pleasure as your riding him, the way your hips move against his, the way your chest bounces. Everything gets him so hard for you. And sadly you do tend to get tried quicker than him so when you start to slow down he’ll hold down your hips and fuck you to his liking. And you better scream his name, he wants everyone that you belong to him.

And this man doesn’t believe in aftercare…so good luck with that.

Corazon

He’s the quite opposite from his brother, than man is more shy than anything. He’s scared that he’ll hurt you due to his size. After all he’s much taller than you and he doesn’t want to harm you. But after one day of trying to convince him he decided to try it out and he ended up loving this sex position. So he loves when you offer to ride him. “Mm I need to ride you sweetheart. May I?” You cooed out softly, to which he began turning red.

He’s so gentle with you. Treating with such care and with so much love. And whenever you’re on top of him, he loves to admire your beautiful body and face. He’ll run his hands along your waist and hips. “Feel so good…you look so beautiful on top of me..” He moans out. Cora loves watching how your boobs bounce, he can’t help but squeeze them. He loves watching how prefectly you fit him.

He’s always using his devil fruit abilities when having sex with you. Especially when you’re riding him. Because let’s be honest he’s a moaner. He wants to every single noise you make. So when you try to cover your mouth he’ll move your hand. “It’s okay my dear. Feel free to moan my name out. No one is going to hear us.” Because god forbid Doflamingo

He loves thrusting his hips upwards and hitting every sweet spot of yours. He loves how your body reacts to every little thing. The way your head is thrown back moaning his name. “Mm Cora…you feel so good…” And this babey would also praise you. Let’s say you’re getting tried he’ll hold your hips and thrust upwards and take over “It’s okay my dear. I’ll take it from here.”

THIS IS 100% FOR AFTERCARE!! He’ll kiss your hickeys and praise you once again. “You did wonderful my dear.” Also!! He’ll grab your favorite snacks and run you a warm bath!! And after that he’ll cuddle you until you fall asleep. A lot of head kisses and a bunch of “I love you.”

Buggy

This man is a total bottom for you. And he loves to brag to everyone that he’s the top of your guys relationship but behind close doors he’s falling onto his knees for you. He loves it whenever you dominate him. Especially when you ride him because he gets a good fucking and a good view of your tits. He loves squeezing your tits and saying “Honk”

You’ll start off by sitting on his lap and taking his lips against yours into a heated kiss. “Mmm…I need you to ride me again..” He whispered against the kiss. And you gladly accepted his offer. Stripping him from his close, placing small kisses along his neck. And before sinking into his cock you’ll stroke nice and slowly and tease him. “Such a dirty little clown…can’t get enough of me?” Biting his neck, and sitting on his lap.

Buggy has to beg for you to do anything. “Please Y/N…stop teasing me…” And you’ll cut him off mid sentence by pinning him against his back and sinking onto his cock. And he has to bite his lip from moaning out loudly. And you’ll move your hips slowly, until he’s begging for more. “Come on clown. Beg for more.”

You love hearing him moan your name out. So whenever he tries to cover his mouth. You shake you head. “Tch..naughty clown. I want to hear your pretty little sounds.” And he’s a whimpering and moaning mess. The rest of the crew probably hears him and they tease the hell out of him. Poor Buggy.

Buggy uses his Devil Fruit abilities whenever you’re riding him. One floating hand will be teasing your nipples, while the other hand is playing with your clit. “Heh..I make you so good huh?” And speaking of his devil fruit abilities, you’ll make him remove his head and place it across the room and you’ll ride his body. You’re the star of the show and he’s enjoying it.

Pspsps Mihawk and Crocodile know he’s the bottom of your guys relationship and honestly they aren’t so surprised.

Mihawk

This man…this is definitely the top of your guys relationship. He isn’t going to submit to anyone and that also includes you. So whenever you are riding him it’s on his terms and only on his terms. “Hmm I think you deserve a treat my dear. You’ve been such a good girl, how about tonight you take the lead.” And his words are already making you weak to your knees.

Before riding him he’ll appreciate a nice lingerie, he loves to admire your beauty. And you bet your ass he’s going to praise you. “Such a beautiful dear…you’re going to look even more beautiful on top.” He say softly and grab your hand and lead you to the bed and he’ll sit down and pat on his leg. “Sit my dear.”

And once in his lap he’ll place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean I’m submitting to you.” He whisper against your lips. Nodding, you place small kisses along his cheeks and neck which will earn your a hum of approval. And once he’s admired your body, he’ll strip his own clothes and yours and stroke himself as he smirks at you. “Now careful, don’t break yourself dear.”

And once he’s inside of you, you take a moment because he feels so much bigger in this position. “Mm Mihawk…so big..” Moaning out, and he groans as he felt your walls clench around him. He gives you a moment to adjust before placing his hands on your hips and moves his hips upwards. And he knows what spots to make you cry out.

Whenever Mihawk notices your getting tried he’ll run a finger along your clit. “Now don’t disappoint me my dear.” He coos, which makes you whimper and move your hips against his until you guys reach each other’s climax’s. And when you do finish, he’ll quickly flip you over. Being on top once again.. “Now, my turn to fuck you my dear.”

Ace

This man is a total switch, and if you want to ride his dick he’s already dragging you to the bedroom. And he’s already kissing you with such hunger. Hands all over body. “Damn..you wanna bounce on my cock again?” He’ll tease you and strip you naked. And once you’re naked he’ll whistle. “Wow, beautiful as always.”

His favorite position is reserve cowgirl style, and to top off the position he’ll make you wear his hat. God…seeing you in his hat makes him cum alone. So this position is top three favorites. And he also loves watching the view…the way your ass is bouncing off of him. “God babe…you know how to drive a man crazy.”

Ace doesn’t bother trying to muffle his moans, if you’re making him feel good then he’s gonna let the whole ship know. And the same goes to you…both of you guys are loud. “God babe…your pussy makes me feel so good…fucking good.” He moans out, smacking your ass which earned a loud moan from your lips. “Fuck Ace…dick so good.”

You guys are so loud that the ship knows you guys are fucking and they have to bang on the door to keep you guys quiet. “You guys fuck like rabbit! Keep it down! We’re trying to sleep.” To which results in you and Ace laughing.

Speaking of dick riding. He loves when you face fuck him. Ride his face…he fucking loves it. And he doesn’t want 10% percent of your body weight he wants you to full sit. USE HIS FACE AS YOUR CHAIR UWU.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Police Officer Wes

"Excuse me, sorry, Mr. Batman, sir!"

That's definitely not a voice he knows. Bruce halts in his steps, aborting his usual retreat into the shadows, and turns back around. Commissioner Gordon, who was still in the process of wrapping up his small talk with Tim - the term 'grumpy banter' would describe their conversation more accurately at this point, but Bruce knows better than to argue with the two over semantics - also turns around, pausing in the middle of the sentence.

A ginger haired boy, wide-eyed and obviously either nervous, starstruck, or both, is staring at him from a few feet behind the Commissioner. Bruce can see a few more faces peeking from behind the half-opened door to the roof, all of them filled with anticipation. He knows two of them: detectives that work directly under Gordon, Isaiah Vasquez, and Tasha Kuznets. The third one, a black man in his forties, also looks vaguely familiar, but Bruce can't recall a name.

Yet, he knows absolutely nothing about the ginger, who hasn't blinked once since Bruce noticed him and is now biting on his lips. But he is wearing a police uniform, so, possibly, a new hire?

"Weston, get out," Jim sighs, waving a shooing hand at the boy with a look of barely concealed exasperation on his face. Definitely a new hire, then. That's the level of annoyance he reserves only for the overachieving rookies that he begrudgingly likes but never admits to.

"I-" newly named Weston starts but cuts himself off. Then, he takes a deep breath and straightens up, "Just one question, sir!"

"Weston, I swear to God," Commissioner pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up a bit. But Tim tilts his head to the side, looking in the ginger's direction and raising his eyebrows. His domino mask hides it, but Bruce knows his menagerie of kids well enough to see that he is at least a bit curious about the boy. So he turns back around fully and inclines his head, giving Weston his attention. He doesn't mind talking with those rare few members of GCPD that Gordon likes.

Weston perks up like a very eager dog at the sight of a treat. In the contrast lighting of the BatSignal, his hair looks like it's on fire.

"If you don't mind, was the 'Smiling case' relevant to Joker in any sense?" The boy asks, loud and clear - maybe even too loud - with his unblinking gaze still glued to Bruce. Like he is afraid that if he closes his eyes for a moment, Gotham's vigilantes are going to disappear without a trace.

It's not a question Bruce expected, to be honest. The 'Smiling case' was closed just a few days ago, Gordon was still not done with the paperwork, as far as Oracle's records went. A murder of three, where all victims had some badly drawn clown makeup on them - post-mortem makeup, as it turned out, the murderer tried to deceive the investigation by trying to cover it up as Joker's doing. Only, he didn't do a good job at it, all the Bats were way too familiar with the Mad Clown's signature style. Not to mention that Joker was still securely sealed in his Arkham cell.

Bruce turns to look at Red Robin. He was the one working on the case, so Bruce gives him the choice of answering or not. Tim jerks his shoulder, looks the ginger boy up and down, and then shakes his head.

"Aside from a poor attempt at leading the investigation in the wrong direction, no, it wasn't," Tim shrugs, "The guy isn't even a Gothamite, he knew of Joker only from the rumors and media. And the clown faces were a makeshift cover-up."

Weston visibly deflates at the answer. Bruce watches in a slight amusement as Tasha nudges the other officer, one he doesn't remember the name of, in the shoulder, and stage-whispers, "Pay up." The older man huffs and disappears behind the door, followed by Isaiah.

"Thank you, Mr. Red Robin," Wesley nods politely and takes a step back, his eyes darting to Gordon. Tim snorts a laugh but doesn't correct him. Commissioner, though, gives the boy a long, dreadful sigh.

"Is that all, officer Weston?" He asks, not even bothering to hide his 'tired dad' voice.

The ginger nods again, "Yes, Commissioner Gordon."

"Then get out of my sight before I make all your shifts double," Jim commands, and Weston nearly runs back to the door with a speed that makes Bruce involuntarily think of speedsters. Must be the red hair.

Tim turns to look at the Commissioner right as the door to the roof slams shut behind both Weston and Kuznets.

"Who is he?"

Bruce is also a bit curious now. New recruits in the GCPD are nothing out of the ordinary, but Jim seems to know this one personally, and Kuznets, who is one of his trusted detectives, seems to also like the officer.

Gordon briefly huffs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat. It's quite chilly today; Bruce makes a mental note to switch everyone to their more insulated suits. Scarecrow is currently out on the loose. It won't do any good if any of the Bats went down with a cold.

"Wesley Weston, fresh out of the Academy," Commissioner sighs, but, somehow, Bruce gets the impression it's not a sound of simple exasperation over a new officer eager to prove himself. Jim proves his assumptions by looking around the shoulder to make sure the door to the roof is still closed, and continuing, "Born and raised in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, but GCPD was his first choice. He explained it as having a few friends living in the city, which, unfortunately, proved to be right."

Bruce frowns and grunts, alarm bells ringing in his mind. Deliberately choosing to work in Gotham despite not being from here can be caused by many reasons, and nearly none of them are good reasons.

"Unfortunately?" Tim inquires suspiciously, also with a slight frown, but Jim waves them both off.

"No, he's got nothing to do with any of the criminals. It was the first thing I checked when he mentioned 'friends'. If anything, he's quite on the opposite; he'd make a great detective one day, what with his countless conspiracy theories, determination and the insane urge to dig up every single detail known to mankind," he laughs a bit, and Bruce notices a slight, teasing twinkle to the Commissioner's eyes behind his glasses. "On his second day here, the boy went and plain told me he knows that Batman is Bruce Wayne and that he's saying that because he knows I know and he is aware we're working together."

The alarm bells in Bruce's mind turn into sirens. They never discussed the matters of Bats' real identities with Gordon - Bruce had his suspicions that the man knew it and simply kept his status quo. In all fairness, James Gordon didn't make it to Gotham's Commissioner by sheer dumb luck, so all the Bats kind of expected him to figure it out one day.

But Jim knowing who's behind the cowl is one thing. A new, out of town officer is quite another.

"What did you answer?" Tim asks with an easy smile, but Bruce sees the barely noticeable tension in his shoulders.

Gordon nearly grins, "I didn't believe him, which turned out to be exactly what he expected. He also told me of some kind of a familial curse - he called it 'Cassandra's curse', I believe you're aware of what it means. And then, when I naturally expressed my doubts, proceeded to show it in action. Believe me, it works. Sometimes, it even works too well," the man looks to the side with an amused huff, "That's why officer Weston is strictly prohibited from voicing his opinions on any of the ongoing cases outloud. Detective Kuznets almost missed some critical evidence because of his input once."

Cassandra's curse, Bruce has heard of that saying before. Granted, he never thought it could be a real thing, and he is not intending on starting now, not before he investigates the matter thoroughly. But he does trust Jim - years and years of working together would do that to people - so he simply nods in understanding, leaving the matter of supernatural aside for now.

"What about his friends?" Red Robin asks again, and that causes Gordon to wince momentarily.

"That, I believe, was the cause of his performance just now. One of his friends runs an occult shop, and the other one loves to hang around our forensic scientists and coroners occasionally," the man waves their immediate frowns off again, "I don't go into the morgue often, but I heard he's good at finding out the causes of death by a few looks at the body. And they run a lot of bets between them three," Jim shrugs nonchalantly, "The last one was about the 'Smiling case', I take it."

"Any reason to worry about them?" Bruce can't help but ask. It's not unusual for people to be weird in this city, and running an occult shop and hanging out with pathologists are not exactly reasons to go through background checks when they've got much more pressing issues on their plate. Namely, Scarecrow: it's been more than a week since his escape, but none of the Bats have heard anything about him yet. Oracle is already busy enough with that and the current uprise of gang activity in the Narrows, there's no point in piling even more work on her shoulders just because of some gossip that rubs Bruce the wrong way.

Gordon, thankfully, doesn't take his question lightly and pauses, scratching his chin.

"No," he finally concludes after some thought, "They are a bit strange for non-Gothamites, I'll say that, but in terms of this city? They are no stranger than my neighbors from upstairs." Gordon doesn't tell them to leave it alone, Bruce notices. However, it's probably not because of any doubts he has; the Bats just have a habit of tripplechecking everything anyways, and who would know that better than Jim Gordon?

A quick glance to Tim proves Bruce's thoughts. Red Robin, despite the mask, looks thoughtful. How many cases is he already working on, seven? Bruce makes another mental note to ask Alfred to cut his caffeine intake. It might be a bit hypocritical of him, what with his own plans to send a few messages to JLD about the 'Cassandra's curse', but Bruce excuses himself as the adult in the family.

Commissioner Gordon clears his throat.

"Do you want me to turn around so you can make your mysterious escape, or-" he starts, but both vigilantes are already gone by the time he finishes, "-or not, okay."

[sturnblue]

𐙚 — movie night.

chris sturniolo :: reader

your friend chris came over for a casual movie night, but things didn’t exactly go as planned after he found something unexpected in one of your drawers.

warnings! smut. dom!chris. fingering. overstimulation. edge control. use of vibrator.

"can we watch cars? it's been a while since i last watched it." chris asked throwing his body against your bed. "are you serious?" you gazed at him chuckling and he nodded. "we already watched it like a hundred times." he shrugged, taking off his shoes.

"this is my side, by the way." you said pointing at the spot his was laying on. "too late." a playful smirk crept onto his face, making you chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"can we watch it or not?" he asked, impatiently. his eyes following you while you made your way to the other side of the bed. "yeah, sure." you didn't actually care, and, to be honest, you liked how funny it was to watch cars with him.

"why can you watch it at your place? i know nick's out, but you still got matt to watch it with you, since you don't want to be alone."

"yeah, he wasn't in a good mood today, y'know? so i'll thought i'll give him so space." he said, shrugging. you chuckled. "what about my space?" "oh, you don't need it." he gave you a soft but teasingly smile, and you rolled your eyes, pulling his face away.

"just put the movie already." you said smiling back, shaking your head. "i'm trying, but i can't find the goddamn remote" he complained, running his hands over the sheets, searching for it. "first drawer next to you." you said reaching for the light switch next to bed, making the room goes dark.

suddenly you remembered. "chris, wait—!" you didn't keep just the remote inside that drawer. "oh god." he lowly said. you froze, heat rushing to your face.

he turned around again, facing you. his eyebrows raised and a slow smirk forming on his lips like he'd just uncovered your deepest secret. "this is definitely not a remote." there it was. in his hands. your vibrator. a clit sucker, to be exact.

"chris— gimme that!" you leaned in his direction trying to get the pink toy out of his hand, failing. "didn't know you had one of these." your face burning. a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "chris, that's not funny, put it back."

"relax. i'm not judging you." he said analyzing the object in his hands. "i mean, everyone need to get some fun, y'know?" he was holding a laugh and you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

"so, how often do you—" "chris!" you cut him off, burring your face in your hands. "what? i'm just curious." his giggles were driving you mad, and you knew he was never letting that go.

"i never used it." your voice muffled by your hands. "never?" he sounded surprised. "yeah— i mean, it's new and i never..." you gazed at him again, your voice low and clearly full of embarrassment.

chris turned it on, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. you both watching the small silicone toy slightly vibrating in his hands, and you involuntarily pressed your legs together.

"how many levels does it has?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the clit sucker. "seven, i guess." you lowly said. "seven?" he raised his eyebrows. "is it too much?"

"chris— look, i don't know, okay? i told you, i never tried. now put it back, let's just watch the movie, alright?" you said already done with that whole conversation.

"do you want to?" he looked at you. eyes darkened. "i'm sorry, what?" "do you wanna try it?" you chuckled "what— i mean, yeah, i brought it, so i'll probably try it someday, i guess."

"i meant right now." you locked eyes with him. your brows frowning in confusion, uncertain you heard it right. "alright, stop. that's not funny." you nervously chuckled.

"i'm not joking." his husky voice making you shiver. the vibrator was still on, and the low noise coming from it was messing with your thoughts. "chris." your breath was failing, heart racing. it felt like your body was betraying you.

"oh, come on." he grinned and shifted in bed, getting closer to you. you froze watching his movements. "i know you wanna try it. just... let me help you."

you watched him slowly approaching the toy to you. he started trailing it on your knees, slowly moving up to your thighs. your eyes locked again in his face, watching his eyes observing your legs, the vibration making your whole body shiver. the growing arousal not letting you think straight.

"what do you say, huh?" he gazed at you, eyes meeting yours, soft but dark. he licked his lips and looked down at yours. his eyes running through your face, waiting for an answer.

you slowly nodded and he sighed, a relieved sound, and smiled at you. without another word, he leaned closer, sealing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. the vibrator still slightly working on your upper thigh.

"take your shorts off." he commanded, breaking the kiss, and you slowly obeyed.

he easily pulled you into his lap, your back laying on his chest, bodies intertwined. "do you think you can handle all levels, sweetie?" he whispered in your ears, slightly biting your earlobe. you nodded, biting your lips. "what's wrong, pretty? use your words."

"yes." your voice barely a whisper. "that's better." he turned the vibrator off and threw it on the mattress. his lips now on your neck. you closed your eyes and laid your head on his shoulder, giving him more access to your skin.

his hands roamed over your body, stopping at your thighs. his lips never letting your neck go. he slowly spread your legs, his fingers tracing soft circles on your inner thighs, leaving you breathless.

"you're fuckin' beautiful." every whisper leaving his mouth making you even wetter. his hands roamed up your body again, this time bringing your shirt with them.

now you were completely exposed for him, your skin against his clothed body. you arched your back feeling his hardness against you.

you gasped feeling his warm hands cupping your breasts. his lips savoring every inch of your neck, biting, licking, leaving little marks.

while one of his hands kept playing with your tits, the other went down your stomach, stopping inches above your sensitive spot. you closed your eyes and locked your fingers in his hair, whines leaving your mouth from anticipation.

his fingers finally touched where you needed the most, slightly spreading you open, feeling your wetness. "so wet, and all for me."

without waiting another second, both of his fingers completely entered your hole, making you bite your lips, trying to muffle a moan. "na-ah, i wanna hear you, pretty. let it out." you lowly moaned again in response, feeling his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you, while your walls clenched them tightly.

he brought his sticky fingers close to your face. "tongue out." you immediately obeyed, feeling his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself. "does it taste good, ma?"

"u-hum" you nodded, yours sounds muffled by his fingers while you were sucking it clean.

one of his hand resting on your lower stomach, the other grabbed the pink toy again, turning it on at the lowest level. heat running through your body with anticipation.

"keep them open f'me, 'kay?" he asked opening your legs with his free hand. you gasped feeling the vibrator on your skin, close to where you needed it the most, but still not enough.

"is it good here, babe?" he whispered and you shook your head. he chuckled. "no? you want more?" chris was teasing you, he wanted to hear you beg. "y-yes." you answered, voice low and weak, your body slightly moving, searching for what you were desperate for.

you moaned when you finally felt it against your most sensitive area. the vibrator lazily sucking your clit, still weak, but enough to make you squirm.

chris started slowly circling it against you. "better here, huh? turn the lights on again, i wanna see you." you nodded, seaching for the light switch again, turning it on.

you threw you head on his shoulder. his hand that was keeping you opened now on your hair, making you look down again. "look at it, ma. look how it sucks you." he pressed the button again, making its intensity go up.

you whimpered watching the pink toy in between your legs, sending jolts of pleasure all over you. "wanna try level three?" he asked already increasing the intensity once again. too much. "oops, i think that's four, isn't it, ma? we can stay here a lil' longer, what you think?"

"chris—" you whimpered, grabbing his arm. the small toy making your body twich. the tension quickly building up due the change of intensities. "i'm close." you warned, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach approaching.

"already? nah, i wanna try all levels before you cum, hold it." you nodded biting your lips, trying hard to prolong the inevitable.

the pleasure only kept growing and you lowly cried his name, not sure how much long you could hold it. "fuck— chris, lemme cum, please.

"not yet. we're still at level four." his lips were on your neck again. your body squirming, trying its best to hold back. your nails digging into his arm.

level five now. "chriiis." you whimpered. "keep holding it, ma. just be a good girl for me and hold it, alright?"

chris was rock hard just from knowing he was making you feel that way. feeling you squirm, hearing your pretty noises, the power he has over you, everything about it was driving him crazy.

"please, just... let me—" your words were cutt off by a moan, your legs uncontrollably shaking as you finally come undone. "fuck!" you screamed and chris bit your shoulder.

he increased it to level six. your legs acted by themselves, involuntarily closing together. "i said keep them open." he growled at your ear. "chris— too much—"

"oh, sweetheart, i didn't tell you to cum, now you're giving me another one." his legs intertwined with yours, holding you open and still for him.

you lowly cried, feeling overstimulated. your whole body was twitching, he got the intensity up again. last level. the vibrations and the way he was circling it on your clit making you roll your eyes.

"chris— i can't." you frenetically shook your head. "one more." he wisphered against your shoulder, kissing it, trailing a path of soft kisses up your neck. crazy contrast to what was happening in between your legs.

your fingers intertwined with his hair, gripping it tightly. "chris! holy shit—" you cried feeling both of his fingers inside you again. the overstimulation was too much, the aching pleasure making you arch your back.

"shhh, it's okay sweetheart, stay still f'me." his horse voice in your ear adding even more to the pleasure. "god, gonna cum again." you warned. your voice high pitched, completely lost in the moment as you felt your climax building up for the second time.

"cum for me, baby." he pressed the vibrator harder on your clit, his long fingers touching your sweet spot, making you see stars.

with a loud cry, you let yourself go again. your whole body trembling, weak. your legs desperately trying to close, but his grip on you tightened, not letting you do it.

you squirmed, feeling more sensitive than ever. "chris, please—" you cried and he took the vibrator off you, turning it off and throwing it somewhere in bed.

his fingers still moving inside you without hurring, stretching your walls, feeling everything. he didn't want it to end. he was already addicted to the feeling of you clenching around him, so tight, sensible, the pretty little noises coming out of your mouth, all caused by him.

when he finally stopped, you whined feeling him emptying you. this time he took his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. "so fuckin' delicious."

he turned you around, putting your chest onto his, both of your legs resting on either side of his body. one of his hands softly stroking your still shaking thigh, the other in your hair. he left a tender kiss on your forehead. "you did so good for me, beautiful."

you looked up at him through your lashes. your eyes were tired but soft. he gave you a smile, his hands stroking your hair giving you a comfortable feeling.

"i bet my dick could make you feel even better." he said, taking you by surprise and you laughed. "well, next time we could try that instead."

"next time, huh? movie nights just got a lot more interesting, don't you think?" he smirked at you, sealing his lips on your forehead one more time.

© sturnblue.

english is not my first language!

[dear-satan]

Dating with rookie!Leon Kennedy | headcanons

ʚ♡⃛ɞ SFW

rookie with the heart of a puppy Leon at the beginning of the relationship is absolutely supercute. A little clumsy, as if he's afraid he'll accidentally screw something up. He always asks if he can hold your hand. Okay Leon, yes, you can - for the 58th time today.

he cooks ... well, he tries Let's admit it - Leon could not cook and if he did something in the kitchen.... His show-off dish was a simple sandwich. But since he started dating something stirred in him - he wanted to show off his best side - supposedly women like resourceful guys in the kitchen. However, one morning when he decided to surprise you with breakfast for bed, well.... Let's just say he nearly burned down the kitchen. The toast turned to coal and the scrambled eggs looked like bioweapons. Yes well... Let's leave the cooking to you

he keeps your picture in his wallet Sometimes, when he can't see you for a few days, he pulls out a photo and sighs - it's not an exaggerated photo like from a fashion magazine cover. Ordinary, natural as you laugh at a silly joke he told you. He was really happy that the Instax was just lying next to him

he is a golden retriever type Honest, dedicated, loyal to the bone, and when he hugs you, it's like the world is no longer scary.

he writes you messages that he edits 12 times Before he sends "Hey, what's up? 😊", he rewrites it 10 times, adds emoticons, deletes emoticons, wonders if it sounds too pushy. When you write him back, he reads your message 8 times and smiles so hard that his cheeks hurt

sometimes he calls just to hear your voice "Hey… nothing happened, just…. I just remembered how ridiculously you sneeze. And I had to smile. And I had to tell you about it. Well, then… good night."

ʚ♡⃛ɞ NSFW

rookie, but not so innocent At first he was shy, touched cautiously, even too gently, but once he got rolling... Oh god. A completely different energy comes out of him - his strong grip leaves little bruises on your body (of course, afterwards he apologizes and lays lovely kisses on them) and his deep and powerful thrusts pull every moan out of you

total praise kink Tell him he's doing something right or he's YOUR good boy and he'll crumble under you - helpless, desperate

he is focused ONLY on you It's not just about sex - he wants to know what makes you a groaning mess underneath him. He analyzes your every sigh, writes down in his head every place where his touch makes you shake. He just loves the way you scratch his back when his cock is buried deeper in you than he thought it could be

high libido after a stressful day at work We know very well that police work can be stressful. such days act on Leon like an afterburner for his sex drive. as soon as he gets home and the door closes behind him.... Well, there is no salvation for you. He takes you no matter what room you are in or what you happen to be doing - his hot mouth attacks yours and his hands immediately pull down your homemade pants and underwear. He'll eat you whether you're on the kitchen counter, the table, the couch or in the shower. And then he'll bend you in half OR position himself behind you, entering you raw and bringing you to at least two orgasms

He has a weakness for your thighs He can't look away. Whether you're sitting in shorts or knee-high socks, Leon has his gaze glued like hot glue. Sometimes ( or often ) when you are watching a movie and his head is on your thighs, he starts placing wet kisses on them. In turn, when he licks your wet pussy his hands ALWAYS squeeze your skin tightly

he loves to whisper in your ear “You're so tight love.” “You don't even know how much I've missed you...” “You make it feel so damn good...” - all whispered in that deep, slightly hoarse voice. And you are melting.

[taeyongdoyoung]

lobos, we cannot stop hunting

summary: the full moon comes and you insist on staying with your best friend despite his valiant warnings to make you run away from him... pairing: werewolf!chan x reader genre: smut, fantasy, best friends to lovers warnings: *takes a deep breath* heat suppressants, hugging, werewolf transformation, kissing, making out, hair-pulling, eating out, begging, fingering, overstimulation, consent is established multiple times, slightly mean dom!chan but overall a sweetheart, praise+degradation, size kink (duh), unprotected sex on the floor, knotting, breeding kink, mating *exhales* author's note: happy halloween, baby stays!!! 🐺 make sure to get some yummy treats and always remember to say the magic words please and thank you 😈 but ESPECIALLY please as the king of the wolves taught us 😉🛐 word count: 1.8k

"It's a full moon tonight," your werewolf best friend Chan says.

"So?" you murmur, not even bothering to look up from your phone. Those F1 reels that keep popping up on your feed are so interesting! "You've got your pills and stuff? You'll be fine, same as always."

"I ran out, actually," Chan scratches the back of his head nervously.

You put down your phone. Sorry, sexy F1 guys, you can wait.

"Can't you get more?" you ask him.

"No, my doctor is out of town. It's his anniversary with his wife and his phone is turned off."

"Goddamnit, Chan, and you tell me that now?" you are immediately worried about your best friend.

Before he started these pills, Chan told you that the full moon was like really bad on him. As in, he was completely out of control and had these...urges that he had to take care of by himself. Basically, he was in a lot of pain. He's been using these pills for the last two years and they've been working miraculously. Chan was pretty much like a human during the usually dangerous for werewolves full moon. Thankfully, his doctor has been very helpful in giving him plenty of these amazing pills.

"I'm sorry...I thought I had one left but I must have miscalculated."

"Chan, I keep telling you to write these stuff down in advance," you shake your head. "What are you going to do tonight?"

"Suffer through it, I guess. I was just giving you a heads-up so you can get out of here...like right about now."

"What? No way I'm leaving you alone!" you argue passionately. "What if you die?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure I won't. But you don't get it, without my pills, I could unwittingly put you in danger. My best chance to make sure I'm not a menace to civilized society is to lock the door and tie myself up or something."

"That sounds horrible!" you cry out, feeling intense sympathy for your best friend. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"You have to!" Chan insists. "I would hate myself if I hurt you."

"You won't!" you keep trying to persuade him. "I trust you more than anyone else in the universe."

Chan shakes his head, still hesitant.

"Please, you should leave before the moon comes up."

Little does he know it has already begun to rise...

"No, I'm not leaving you," you keep saying and wrap your arms around him.

Chan desperately tries to push you away. But it is too late.

As the moon's power grows, so does his. The only thing that prevents you from continuing to embrace him is his oncoming transformation. Your arms fall weakly to your side as you witness the impossible. His generally tender, adorable features quickly turn into sharp, wolflike and kind of intimidating ones, if you have to be honest. But this is your best friend, your Chan, you keep reminding yourself. And all the fear disappears from your body. As you kneel down next to him, you run your hand through his soft fur, trying to pet him.

He initially snarls and tries to scare you off but the more you insist, the more he relaxes under your gentle touch. God, you can't believe he was afraid he'd harm you. He's just...a big puppy.

You can't resist the temptation and you hug him again. He's so fluffy you're gonna die! And then, the unimaginable happens. He fucking purrs! Oh dear, if you had already been having a hard time trying to hide your feelings for your best friend, then seeing him like this would surely be your demise.

Then, unexpectedly, he shifts back to his human form, taking you by surprise. One, because that was faster than you'd expected. Two, because he's entirely naked, but doesn't seem perturbed by it. You try your best to look him in the eyes because uh...you're still not sure where this is going.

"Please, go, I don't think I can control myself any longer," Chan begs.

"Control what?" you're so confused. "I already witnessed you in your wolf form, you seem pretty chill."

"It's not my wolf form you should be scared of," Chan warns darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you don't get out of my sight in the next ten seconds, I'll fuck you until you pass out. And maybe even after that."

Oh? Wait...OH!!!

"Was that supposed to be a threat or a promise?" you quirk your eyebrows at him.

"Hold on, don't tell me you're actually excited by the prospect?" Chan wants to make sure.

"I mean...don't threaten me with a good time," you shrug calmly.

Chan kneels next to you, grabbing your hands tightly.

"I'm serious right now, don't play with me."

"What makes you think I'm not serious? I trust you, I want you, I lo- Uh, I like you a lot, whatever you do, that won't change," you mentally curse yourself for almost saying the big L-word. You hope he didn't catch that.

Judging from Chan's expression, he seems pretty satisfied with your statement.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," he whispers and kisses you harshly, biting your lips and making a mess.

Your mouths are linked by an unending streak of saliva, but honestly you couldn't care less as he claims you, pushing his tongue deeper down your throat, gripping your hair with his fingers for better access. You are already melting. You spoke too soon. You are definitely not ready for this. But you wouldn't be able to make him stop, even if you wanted to.

"Last chance," Chan breaks the kiss to give you the opportunity to back out. To get out of here while you still can.

"Do your worst," you challenge him recklessly and he kisses you again, even harder than before if that is possible.

You know that your best friend, despite his shy and cute demeanour, is physically stronger and bigger than you, but seeing him like this, completely losing control is such a thrill you make sure to commit the picture to memory as vividly as you can.

Chan takes off your clothes in a hurry and just like a hungry wolf, attacks your pussy. And starts devouring it as if it's his last meal on Earth. He doesn't even make the effort to get to the couch, which is so close. He just takes you right there, on the floor. You shake uncontrollably, but he grips your thighs to stop you from moving.

"Please, please, please," you keep repeating even though you have no idea what you're asking for. For him to keep going? For him to stop? You don't know anymore.

"I like it when you beg," Chan smirks against your folds and dives back in, swimming in your water.

It doesn't take you long to burst, completely letting go for him.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he praises you, not giving you time to recover and tracing circles around your entrance with his big fingers.

"No, you," you whisper weakly, trying to make him slow down by pushing his hand away. Needless to say, your efforts are in vain. "I'm s-sensitive."

Chan laughs cruelly.

"You can take it," his words are meant to be reassuring but they're not, as he sticks his finger inside of you.

It's just one but it's already so thick you are beginning to lose your mind.

"C-chan, p-please," you cry for him.

"What is it, sweetheart? You want another?" he mocks your lack of coherence and adds a second finger without waiting for your approval.

"N-no, I c-can't," you shake your head desperately.

"Yes, you can," Chan seems fully convinced, adding a third finger. "You're so tiny, gotta stretch you up real good to be able to take my cock next. Don't you want that, babygirl?"

"Yes, I want it," you are quick to agree and do your best to relax for his big fingers.

"Gonna let me take this sweet pussy with my wolf cock? Claim you as mine? Give you my pups?" he asks gently, his unrestrained actions in complete contrast with his sweet words.

"Yes, yes! Gonna let you breed me like the stupid bitch I am," you answer, degrading yourself in the process.

"That's what I like to hear, darling," Chan praises you and makes you come again on his fingers.

You are almost about to pass out. But somehow you manage to hold on for the next part. You want to feel it. Every second of it.

"Are you sure?" he asks once again, melting your heart.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reaffirm your belief in him.

Chan doesn't wait for a second offer and slides his cock inside of you. Fucking hell, if you thought his fingers were pretty huge, his manhood is on a whole different level. You try to adjust to his monstrous size and focus on his beautiful eyes instead. He's still your Chan, your sweet-

"Fuck, your pussy's so small, gonna rip you in half," Chan grunts loudly.

Okay, not so sweet after all.

"Please, don't. Or do, it's fine by me," you attempt to make a joke.

He laughs and kisses you again, going in deeper. You wrap your hands around his neck in a tremendous effort to ground you, help you remain conscious through it all.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Chan keeps talking meanly. "Want me to ruin that tiny pussy of yours?"

"Yes, yes, I want it all," you repeat mindlessly, not caring about the consequences anymore.

Then, as if by some miracle, you feel his cock growing even more while inside of you. Is that even possible? You thought it was just a myth.

Luckily, you're wetter than ever and your pussy easily swallows his knot.

"Gonna fuck you full of my cum, make you my mate, is that okay?" Chan wants to be sure.

"It's okay, Chan, I'll be your mate," you promise, not even sure what that means. But whatever it is, you're fine with it, as long as it's with Chan...

Then, he releases his wolf seed inside of your pussy, making you feel so full, so warm, so complete.

"Take it, baby, I know you can," he reassures you and you do your best to accept his overflowing victory.

It is a total mystery how you still haven't passed out. But you're grateful for it. You'd like to treasure this moment forever.

"I don't think I'll be able to let go of you anytime soon," Chan chuckles softly, still inside of you.

"That's alright, I think I can get used to this," you respond happily, kissing him again.

"Great. 'Cause I don't plan to ever stop hunting you, my sweet little prey," Chan vows.

"I am but a willing victim to whatever it is the full moon did to you," you smile contentedly.

"And if it's not just the full moon?" Chan asks, biting your earlobe playfully with his sharp teeth. "What if I want to have my way with you every night?"

"Who needs sleep anyways?"

The End

[lazysoulwriter]

guilty pleasure. - pedro pascal.

----

You had a guilty pleasure.

Well, it wasn’t exactly guilty, but you weren’t about to announce it to the world either. You read fanfiction. Specifically, fanfiction about him. Pedro. Your boyfriend. The man who, at this very moment, was in the kitchen making himself a snack, completely unaware that you were consuming questionable content about him on the internet.

It wasn’t your fault. People were creative, and some of them had a talent for capturing that irresistible mix of charm, warmth, and—let’s be honest—daddy energy he exuded. And maybe, just maybe, some of those fics were a little spicy.

You were in the middle of a particularly... intense paragraph when you heard footsteps approaching. Before your brain could catch up, Pedro walked into the room.

You panicked.

With lightning speed, you slammed your laptop shut, as if that alone could erase all evidence of your activities. But the sudden movement caught his attention immediately.

Pedro raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his deep brown eyes. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you blurted, voice an octave too high.

“Oh, nothing, huh?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like he already knew you were hiding something. “That was the most suspicious ‘nothing’ I’ve ever seen.”

You tried to play it cool. “Just... work stuff.”

He scoffed. “Uh-huh. Work stuff that makes you blush like that?”

Damn it. Your cheeks were burning.

He walked over, placing his hands on the back of your chair and leaning down until his face was right beside yours. “Come on, let me see,” he coaxed, voice smooth and teasing.

You shook your head rapidly. “Nope.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

He grinned, lowering his voice into that dangerous tone. “Baby, please?”

Damn him and his irresistible charm.

With a dramatic sigh, you opened the laptop and handed it over. Pedro took one look at the screen and immediately started laughing. Like, full-body, shaking laughter.

“Oh my God,” he wheezed. “You’re reading fanfiction about me?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Just give it back.”

But he wasn’t done. His eyes scanned the words quickly, and then—oh no.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

“Wait, wait—this is a smut fic?” His grin widened as he kept reading. “Oh-ho-ho, this is explicit. Dios mío—is this what you think about when I’m not home?”

“Pedro—”

“Oh, wow. So you want me to do this to you tonight?” He glanced at you with faux innocence, tapping the screen. “Because I can make that happen, sweetheart.”

“Pedro, I swear—”

“Actually,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “This part? Right here? I could do better.”

Your soul left your body. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me.” He handed the laptop back, still smirking. “And apparently, you love reading about all the ways I could absolutely ruin you.”

You buried your face in a pillow as he laughed, obviously enjoying your suffering.

Then, after a moment, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Just so you know,” he murmured, voice dripping with promise, “you don’t have to read about it. You could always just ask.”

Your breath hitched.

Damn it.

You were never reading fanfiction around him again.

----

[highdramas]

okay hear me out… a jack abbott inspired by imgonnagetyouback… the angst? the lust? i fear you would eat this up

never not mine | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader warnings: language, angst with a happy ending, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), reader slaps a man hehe (not jack), power imbalance (reader is a resident and jack is her attending), drug use (weed), sexual content (brief but there), jack absolutely grovels and it's a vibe word count: 3.2k summary: jack attempts to walk away. you attempt to reel him back in. it leaves you both raw and vulnerable. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. imgonnagetyouback, back to me by the marias, and honeymoon by lana all helped inspire this fic! i'm a little worried i wrote jack ooc, but then i remembered that man is a canonized yapper. this exists within the ring of fire universe, but that does not have to be read first. it is linked here if you would like to, though! i took some liberties with this so i apologize if it's not exactly how you imagined it! but i had a great time writing this! i hope you enjoy it <3 not proofread, apologies for errors!

you know exactly what it is that you’re doing. and if jack feels tortured– fine. let him. this is all his fault, anyway.

the whole time you’d been with him, whatever that even meant, you’ve felt this sense of… waiting for the other shoe to drop. you tried to tell yourself that you were crazy, that jack was good and honest and that he wasn’t going to get cold feet. that the fact that you were his resident and he was your attending didn’t bother him. that he wasn’t irrevocably haunted by demons from his past, a dead wife and an endless war that runs on a replay in his head, pain in a limb that he doesn’t even have anymore.

it’s not that you expect him to forget all of that. you just want him to be real with you.

and when he falls right into the trope, the trap that was laid by fate, you decide that you’re not going to be resentful. you’re just going to prove to him– and maybe yourself– that you’re not so easily forgotten. that you can’t be left.

it sounds both arrogant and pathetic when you think about it like that. but you don’t care. you’re going to get him back.

maybe it is cruel that you started flirting with donnie in front of him. maybe it’s evil, the way that when you all gather for your post-shift beer, it’s donnie’s bench that you settle at. when you meet abbot’s gaze from across the walkway, his eyes are always at a level of stony that make you a little bit nervous. but then you remember that he iced you out and you lift your chin up and turn your face back to donnie.

he’ll pick his poison, you decide.

when you enter lefty’s at 11pm after getting wind that the day shift– which was jack, conveniently, since he uttered the words this is a bad idea, kid. god, you want to shake his shoulders, you want to call him a coward and scream from the top of your lungs: do you need see how good it could be if you let it?

a delicate lilac top clings to your skin. you push your hair over your shoulder as santos crosses the bar to greet you with a big hug, laughter on her lips. “jesus christ, who are you trying to give a heart attack?”

your hand splays on her back and you find abbot looking at you from across the bar. you shrug your shoulders and pull back, pushing back pieces of santos’s hair. “i don’t know. maybe someone new?”

trinity’s eyebrows shoot up. “wow. spicy. i like it.”

you don’t know how much time passes. you feel a bit silly: overdressed, a beer in your hand, nothing on your mind except the man that you want to lure back in to you. your outfit is a siren song and all you can wonder is if abbot is a sailor who is as desperate as you’ve pinned him as.

if he’s as desperate as you are.

every time you look at him, he’s either already looking, or feels your gaze on him. there will be a beat of eye contact before you look away and laugh at something garcia said or engage, rapt, in a conversation with samira about the first date that she went on last week. suddenly, it’s been hours, and you’re closing out your tab when you feel a presence beside you.

it’s not the presence that you want. it’s one that’s unknown and makes you feel uncertain. it’s not abbot’s easy, calm, present demeanor beside you. the one that tells you don’t worry, i’m here, i got this. the one that washes over you like a delicious wave. the one that smells woody and warm and delicious. the man next to you is a little too clean cut, a little too polished–  he smells like laundry and looks like he’s never been through a bad thing in his life.

he takes a drink of the last of his beer. “i’ve been watching you all night.”

you didn’t notice. faintly, you think that if you were twenty three, this man next to you would have been the apple of your eye, instantly. you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of him. but when you look at him and you see deep dimples and dark hair, all you see are dimples that are a little too deep, and hair that isn’t streaked with silver.

that pick up line strikes you as unimpressive. your finger tip circles your glass. “oh, am i supposed to say thank you?” you ask, but you manage what you try to play off as a coy smirk. absentmindedly, you look around, instinctively looking for jack. and not even because you want to see if he’s jealous. not because you want to see the look on his face, to feel that sick sense of satisfaction at the fact that you’re getting to him.

no. you want your friend. you want to give a bleak eye roll and make him smirk. you want to go back to him and say what a prick and carry on with your life. you want to go back to the normal that you’ve gotten used to– the one that, maybe, you took for granted.

if you can’t have jack as your whatever he was, you’d take him as your friend. any day.

but when your eyes scan the bar… he’s not there. the spot that he occupied next to robby is vacant. and all you’re left with is this sick sense of shame, embarrassment, and something else that you can’t quite articulate. longing, if someone put a gun to your head and forced you to put a name to it.

the man next to you says something. you don’t hear it. static rattles in your ears and suddenly all you want to do is go home, tear those lilac clothes off, wash your face, and cry. in bed.

and maybe smoke a joint on your patio, too.

he says something again. you, once again, don’t respond. you look at the bartender and answer their questions with one word answers. yes, you want to close. no, you don’t want a copy of your receipt.

“are you ignoring me, or are you just a stupid fucking bitch who can’t hear?”

at the level of shut down you’re at already, you don’t even care what he’s said. but he’s gotten the attention of the others. robby is already on his feet.

and abbot is walking down the hall from the restroom.

“i’m ignoring you,” you turn to him, spitting the words out, loud and clear. “but if calling me a stupid fucking bitch makes the rejection hurt less, knock yourself out.”

he screws his entire face up, and abbot is approaching quicker now, with that lethal anger on his face. robby isn’t far behind… or santos, either, for that matter.

“you are a stupid fucking bitch,” he says, taking a step closer to you, shrinking himself in size to be on your level. “and you’re not pretty enough to get away with an attitude like–”

abbot makes a move to lunge, and robby has to physically pull him back. the man lets out an ugly laugh and all you see is red, bright red. “oh, what’s your fuckin’ grandpa going to do?”

the crack that rings out when your palm hits his cheek could be heard around the world. it opens up a cacophony of mayhem– between you and him, the bartenders, abbot, robby, santos getting ready to throw in a punch of her own… but it all culminates with the lot of you being told to get the fuck out, this isn’t philly.

with your jaw set and your head held high, you are the first one to storm out of the bar. and maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that a stranger just called you a bitch, but all you feel is an unsettled sort of anger.

you hear abbot say your name behind you.

you stop. the pittsburgh early spring still has a bite to it, especially when it’s nearing midnight. the wind makes your eyes sting, tears trailing down your cheeks. it’s the wind. it’s just the wind. “no,” you say lowly, pointing a finger in his direction. “fuck you.”

“fuck me?”

“yeah. fuck you.” you tug your jacket closer to yourself and wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. “you ignore me, you tell me this isn’t going to work, and then want to play protective… yeah. fuck you.” you go quiet, go to turn, but you can’t. you’re frozen in place. “no, it’s not even that. not really. i shouldn’t be mad at you. i should be mad at myself. i’ve been doing things, this whole time, trying to earn your affection back. trying to get you to see what you were missing, see why it was so silly to pretend that we’re not good. but… i’ve felt like shit every day, doing that. i’ve felt small.”

jack doesn’t say anything. robby has ushered all of your coworkers down the street and far away, bless him. when you assess jack’s face, there’s a myriad of things you see. you think you see regret. you know you see hurt. you want to believe you see love.

“and i don’t want to feel small,” you sniffle and wipe a fat, real tear away. “i don’t want to wear a cute outfit because you might see it. i don’t want to flirt with donnie to watch your knuckles go white. i want– i want to sit on your fucking couch. i want to watch some stupid show with you. i want to lay in bed and listen to the police scanner after sex. i want you to want me. and if you don’t, if this is all too much for you, then…” you look him up and down. the body you know intimately, the person you’d be with forever if he let you.

“then no hard feelings.”

you don’t give jack the opportunity to respond. maybe that’s its own special brand of self preservation. you turn, and you walk away from him, towards an empty apartment.

–

when you get home, you do exactly as you cited. you rid yourself of your clothes. you furiously wash your face and then go through the rest of your skin care. you roll yourself a joint, and you bring it out to your patio, and the small table, chair, and ashtray that sit out there.

your apartment isn’t as high up as jack’s. you live in an old building on the third floor, one of the world war two types, with the radiators and beautiful hardwood floors and all of the character in the world. in exchange, you get no dishwasher and a patio that probably isn’t up to city code.

lighting the joint with one hand, you take in a long, nice, inhale. you lean your head back against the wall. you grab your phone and put the marias on and let those big tears roll down your cheeks freely.

the low rumble of a truck pulling up gets your attention. you lift your head up and watch as the vehicle that you’d sat in countless times goes into park. you hear the door open. you watch jack round it, and his eyes are instantly drawn to your patio. he holds his hand up in a wave.

you flip him off.

the chuckle that gets out of him should infuriate you. but it doesn’t.

“yeah, i deserve that.”

“you’re a dick,” you reply, marijuana leaving you honest. you stand up and lean on the railing, looking down at him.

“i am.”

his hands are in his pockets and you can see a war going on in his mind, but then he starts talking. “i’m not good at this part. the… communication, part. i’m not good at this part at all.”

you raise your eyebrows. he continues. “when annie died, i was content to not be with anyone. ever again. a random fuck there and again, just to get it out of my system, sure. but i was content with not opening myself up to that. i always just thought… i thought i was already so fucked up, and since annie knew me before i was so fucked up. i told myself that she was the only one that was going to get it. get me.” he stares up at you. “now, i know that i was wrong in that. obviously.”

you give a slow nod of your head. “but i lived in that reality for so long. that i wasn’t going to be open to that again. and then we started hanging out, and at first, i was able to convince myself it was innocent. i’m your mentor. no lines would get blurred. and then, obviously, they did. but i told myself it was all casual. and when i told myself that, i felt like… yeah, i could do that. i could be good to someone in that capacity. but then,i felt greedy with you. i felt like i wasn’t going to be able to let myself walk away if i stayed any longer. so i forced myself. thought i was doing you a favor.” he rubs the back of his neck. “thought i was doing right by myself. like, the safest option. and then i talked to my therapist.”

you smirk. “the age old solution.”

“yeah, right?” he smirks back at you. “and i told him all of this, yesterday. and you know what he said?” he waits a beat. “he told me i’m a fucking idiot. and i responded, and said that i know i was. because deep down… deep down, i knew it was all bullshit. a defense mechanism.”

he walks closer and puts his hands on the railing of the first floor patio, staring right up at you, you staring down at him. “i should never have made you feel small. and all i want is to show you that i mean it.”

nodding your head slowly, you mull over his every word. you open and close your mouth a couple of times. “i want to tell you to fuck off,” you say honestly. “i want to think you’re just bullshitting me. but…” you meet his eyes. “that’s probably my defense mechanism.”

the quiet overtakes the two of you. all there is is the lull of traffic and the faint whistle of the wind. “it wasn’t about you,” you say. “i knew why you were pushing me away. i understood. i just wanted you to see why those things weren’t real. and i thought that i could control that. and then i just left myself feeling disappointed, and desperate, and messy.”

the two of you watch each other like feral cats, unblinking and unwavering. maybe that’s what you are.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice softened. “i was a dick. and you were right.”

you nod your head. “come inside before you catch a cold.”

most of the time, you went over to his place. when he steps over the threshold into your apartment, you think that it feels good to have him in your space. to watch him set his shoes by the door, hang his coat up on the little rack. there’s this awkward sort of tension that simmers between the two of you. he must sense it, because he gives you a sideways look. “that wasn’t all i had to say.”

“yeah?” you ask with a playful smile, filling up a glass of water and taking a big gulp from it.

his hands pin you in at your kitchen counter. all of the air is sucked right out of the room. “you told me that you wanted me to want you. right?” you give a nod of your head. “i wanted to be face to face with you when i said this part.” he ghosts his fingertips over your cheeks. “i want every fucking part of you. your wild, messy parts included. especially, even.” his eyes darken a shade. “do you know how crazy you’ve made me? flirting with donnie, that purple you wore tonight?”

you roll your eyes, mostly at yourself. “that was sort of the plan.”

“it worked.” his thumbs brush your hipbones. “every day, i went home to an apartment that had you all over it. a coffee mug on the counter with a lipgloss mark. the blanket that you love and curl into almost every single night. your book on my coffee table. i felt stupid. i felt small, too. i felt like a coward. i was a coward. and i just–”

you raise up your hand, pressing it against his chest. not pressing him away, just… there. his brows furrow. you say, “you ramble when you’re nervous and when you want someone to feel better.” your hand slides up his chest. “i forgive you.”

the relief that washes over him is a visible, tangible thing. you feel it in the way he grips your hips as a result, the way his face falls into the crook of your neck. you close your eyes and run your hand through the silver streak you love so much. he pulls back and there’s a little tear shining in his eye. and he says three words that are simple but profound, that strike you where you stand. “i love you.” he nods. that steady, stable, self-assured version of himself is there again. “i know that now. i knew it then, too.”

you nod your head slowly. “i know you do,” you say, because you do, you really do. “and i love you too.”

those dimples shine at you. not too deep. just right. he pulls your body in flush with his and it’s like you melt away into nothing but a glowing ball of light. fuzzy and warm.

a switch is flipped. your hands go hungry and your lips find his. jack leads you to your bedroom. he lays you down and he spreads you out. he takes off each article of clothing, slowly. he lowers himself until his head is between your thighs and apologizes with his tongue, until you arch off your bed. he climbs up and he sinks inside of you in one satisfying motion. you’re all nails down his back and relentless eye contact, and you’re the kind of desperate and messy that you want to be. he’s just the same– his pace is consistent, deep, and each thrust tells you just how sorry he really is.

you finish with an explosion behind your eyes, and he tumbles over off that cliff after you. he rolls off of you and you lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling. your hand goes to rest on his chest. he takes it and presses a kiss to it before he raises, comes back with a damp cloth and cleans you up with care. love. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, tender and right.

he starts messing with the covers, brows all screwed up. “what could you possibly be looking for right now?” you ask, chest still heaving.

“this,” he says, locating his phone. he stares down at it until he puts it between you. a faint static emits from it.

“what the hell is–”

“3B60, the subject is fleeing on foot.”

you between him and his phone, police scanner coming from the speaker, incredulously. he just grunts as he settles back into bed, pulling you into him. “i’m just listening to what you want, kid.”

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 8)

It's not that you didn't like Johnny. He was just as nice as all the others, more charismatic than Price and Ghost, that's for sure. He was gentle with you, and that's nice, very nice... but goddamnit, was he lively.

You had werewolf classmates before, of course you did, and to be honest? They were all the same. Too much energy, too much movement, just... too much. Your only saving grace was that none of them were friends with you, so you didn't deal with their energy directly most of the time.

But now, one of your foster parents is a werewolf.

And... you are not really too excited about that. You follow along the path with him, watching his wagging bushy tail, sharp smile and light gym clothes like he barely feel the cold weather, and... you try to get used to this.

Used to him.

"Aye, and this is our shed!" Johnny smiles, pointing at the the big shed by the side of the house. The wooden door, differently to the doors inside the house, had a high handle and a big lock, making you look at it a bit questionably as Johnny chuckles a little. "Yeah, lass, ye can't go inside the shed alone. Too many dangerous tools."

You nod slightly, not really interested in the shed in the first place. There were houses you have stayed in that wouldn't let you go inside any room besides your bedroom, the bathroom and the living room. You were used to these kind of rules.

"Ye sure you don't wanna play tag, pup?" Johnny asks as he turns to you, clearly excited as his tail wags hard and ears perk up. "It's healthy to exercise! Ah'm sure ye'll like it, aye??"

You don't really answer verbally, but just your conflited expression was enough to make him sigh a little with a smile still on his face.

"'Kay, 'kay, ah get it." He shakes his head slightly, tail calming down a little on all the wagging. "I'll try to follow Kyle's advice." Then, he cups his mouth lightly with his hand, like he's telling a secret, as he whisper-shouts to you. "Lad's the smartest of the bunch, he knows what he's talkin' about!"

You nod slightly at that, a small smile coming to your face. He has a bit of a funny personality.

Just your small, shy smile was enough for him to bite down on his lower lip as he tried to control the deep croon he wanted to let out. God... he wanted to just pick you up and carry you forever. He really thought he wouldn't have a more delicate baby then when his harpy babies were born, but oh God, was he wrong....

You just look soooooo... damn small, and cute, and fragile. You don't move much, you don't look particularly energetic and you are bundled up cutely with layers of warm clothing as you look up at his face with big eyes.

So defenseless. How did humans defend themselves in this world??

He couldn't let you get hurt, ever. You are his resposibility now. His and his pack's responsibility.

And, oh God, were you shivering? You seemed to have curled up a little, was it too cold despite their efforts??

How easily did a human get sick??

He's warm. He's very warm. He could warm you up right away. You got so warm when he curled up with you on the nest, he could do it again...

"I-is everything okay...?" Your little meek voice snapped him out of his instincts for a second, eyes widening as he clears his throat slightly.

"Aye, aye, perfectly fine, wee lass. Come 'ere."

Even tho he told you to come to him, he was the one to come to you and kneel down in front of your small form, big hands coming to your jacket to gently adjust on your body firmly, a focused expression on his face as he checks all your others piece of clothing.

"Is it too cold out 'ere, lassie?" He coos quietly, a small pout coming to his lips naturally. It looked like he was talking to a toddler, and it made you blush a little in embarrassement.

"I-It's fine..." You mumble back, unsure. Yeah, sure, it was a bit cold, but nothing you couldn't take, especially with your new clothes.

He didn't seem very convencied, and quickly, he picked you up on his arms, easily taking you to his chest. You were not that surprised anymore, even if just a little startled, but at least he felt warm...

"Ye see, wee lass... we live a bit farther than the other houses, aye?" He asks as he turns to look back at the rest of the land, a lot of grass in a big, big plot, surrounded by a forest. There was a street not that far from there taking to the rest of the city. "We like lots of space, so our plot comes from all the way from the back of our house to the street up ahead."

That makes you winden your eyes a little, and now that you were in his warm arms, turning your head on his direction made you almost bump noses with him.

"All the way to the street...?" You mumble, almost incredulous.

"Aye! Big plot, yeah? Pride and joy to raise my pups 'ere! And when ye go back to school, we'll use one of our trucks to take ye." He smiles, tilting his head to the side in the direction of a big construction in the distance, hard to see, but you deduced it was where the automobiles were.

Suddenly, his fluffly ears perked up, turning on the direction of the house without him even turning his face. A smile appeared easily on his face as he looked down at you on his arms.

"Mama is calling us back." He snickers as he jokes, making you tilt your head in confusion a bit. "Simon, aye? Actually, both mamas. Even Kyle is starting to get antsy. Best that way, eh, wee pup? Before ye get a cold."

You turn your head over his shoulder to look back at the house, and sure enough, Simon and Kyle were both waiting by the open door as Johnny started to make his way back with you still on his arms.

"Tsc, are you trying to make her get sick?" Simon snarks as soon as you two get close enough to the door, grabbing you from Johnny's arms as he takes you inside quickly.

"We dinae even spend that much time outside!" Johnny protests even tho he still had a smile on his face.

"No, I agree with Si, even I was getting a bit antsy." Kyle sighs, closing the door behind Johnny, making sure to lock it. "I thought it would be fine, but it's cold out, and... ugh, whatever. It's hard to explain." He grunts, shaking his head.

"Nah, I get it." Johnny laughs slightly, watching Simon taking your jacked and beanie off gently as he leads you to the kitchen to eat dinner. "Was getting deep into my instincts and lassie was just... standing still, looking at me with big ol' eyes."

"Next time, we are all going out together." Kyle nods, going back to the kitchen with Johnny right behind him.

Part 7 / Part 9

[pellucid-constellations]

Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell... reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~950

Warnings: Nothing yet, maybe just a little angst

a/n: Okay I know this is a drabble but this is definitely getting more parts like I am attached to this storyline now and LOVE that you requested it 🤗

Read part two here

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You leaned against a pillar just outside the school, a twitch creeping up your hands until your fingers spasmed. You shoved them under the bend of your elbows, crossing your arms and biting into your lip. 

She was fine. 

She was more than fine—Velaris was safe. 

Anything would have been safer than facing your father’s wrath back in Autumn, but you had gotten extremely lucky with the timing of your escape. Falling pregnant with your daughter had not been in the cards, especially not after a single night of rebellion, but with Velaris’s doors opening up just days after your healer broke the news, something seemed to be written in the stars. 

But every day was still a gamble; your father could find you at any time. 

The past five years had been a miracle, if you were being honest. 

School was supposed to end two minutes ago. 

Your foot began to shake, popping your knee up and down and making your body vibrate with the anxiety that consumed you. 

You shouldn’t have let her go to school. 

Melanie only had a few friends—neighbor kids whose parents you had vetted extensively—but that had been enough for her to get the idea into her head. You had planned on homeschooling her, or at least waiting until she was a few years older before letting her out into the world. Unfortunately, that had not been Melanie’s plan, and Melanie had so many wonderful plans. As most five-year-olds did. 

Gods, what if—

“First day?” a rumbling voice made you pause your nervous fidgeting. The man spoke again. “If you’re worried, don’t be. The teacher is great. Just forgetful when it comes to time. They are typically a few minutes late every day.” 

You swallowed and turned around despite every voice in your head telling you not to. But those voices in your head were completely and utterly wrong about a multitude of things. Behind you, you found a man—an Illyrian—with wings an ungodly size and shadows swirling down his legs and onto a uniform pool along the ground. And he was gorgeous—unabashedly gorgeous in the most devastating way. 

You looked up from your blatant investigation of him, meeting his eye and stuttering out, “Oh. That’s… that’s good to know. Thank you.” 

If he noticed your stutter, he didn’t make any sign of it. Instead, the man with the wings and the shadows blinked several times, furrowed his brows, and took a step back as if to steady himself. Perhaps, if you weren’t a bundle of unreasonable nervous energy, you would have found his actions strange, but you were. So you simply offered him a superficial, airy laugh and uncrossed your arms. 

“I—” the man began, but he seemed to lose his train of thought, a heat traveling up his cheeks in a way that looked foreign. “I’m Azriel.” 

Oh, wonderful. Introductions. 

You tried your hardest to stay very far away from very many people. It was the best way to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t avoid the neighbors, and you supposed you couldn’t avoid fae like Melanie’s teacher, but this was different. 

Shit. 

You offered your name, anyway, afraid of appearing too outlandish in an otherwise casual setting. 

It would be fine. 

This was fine. 

Azriel repeated it in a breathless way, but then the school bell rang and something seemed to click in his brain. The small smile that had curled up the corner of his mouth became hard and he shot his eyes quickly one way and then the other, inspecting your surroundings. 

Maybe this wasn’t fine. 

“Are you a new mom in the area?” Azriel asked. 

All of your nerves shifted to guarded unease. “I am,” you offered, not caring if it was almost a lie. 

“The moms here don’t usually do the pick ups alone.” 

“You’re doing a pick up alone, it seems.” 

“I’m picking up my nephew,” Azriel explained, relaxing his posture, making himself smaller, seemingly gauging the building tension. “I didn’t mean to come across—I just asked because the mothers here typically have help. From their mates or partners. From the father.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, your next words tumbling out before you could catch them. “Well, I’m alone.” 

Double shit. 

Azriel seemed to let out a breath, his shadows whipping around along the ground. 

You braced yourself for further questioning, for the judgments that would surely follow, but then you were attacked from behind by a pair of arms wrapping around your knees. You turned quickly, scooping your daughter into a hug and promptly dismissing any further conversation with the stranger. 

“Hi, Mel,” you smiled, tucking her hair back as you subtly looked her over. “How was school? Did you like it?” 

“I loved it!” she excitedly replied. She rambled on a bit more after that, retelling her day by the minute. 

You felt eyes on you the entire time. A small boy had run and jumped into Azriel’s arms in your peripheral, but even as the boy talked and talked just as Melanie did, you felt the occasional glance your way. And some of Azriel’s shadows had to be reigned in multiple times, the small wisps licking at your ankles. 

The teacher suddenly spoke up and you were eavesdropping, straining your ears to listen in on her greeting towards the Illyrian.

“Oh, Azriel, lovely to see you. We were hoping the High Lady would be picking Nyx up, but this is even better. There is a showcase in a few weeks that—” 

You felt your world freeze. 

High Lady. 

You had been speaking to someone in close relation to the Night Court. You let someone know your name, told them you were alone with a child, and they had direct access to the High Lord and Lady. 

You whisked Melanie into your arms despite her protests and beelined it home. 

Shit. 

part two

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 9 (part three)

(Rafe Cameron x reader series, 9.6k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter content warning: descriptions of blood and violence, drinking and overconsumption, side characters make mentions of noncon but it does not happen, this chapter is 18+ MDNI, please read this disclaimer before reading!

Rafe was dying inside.

Actually, no, Rafe was dead inside. The dying had already been done, it happened when you said you hated him. Now he was just a ghost, walking around in some guy’s body and playing golf like he hadn’t already breathed his last breath.

It was hard enough keeping his gaze off of you when you came downstairs to load into the shuttle, having to literally close his eyes on the ride to keep from searching your face for any sign you were ever going to speak to him again. Then you changed into yet another dress that made him forget how to breathe, one glance at you and the way the crisp white fabric gripped your body and he could feel his brain cells dying out from lack of oxygen.

He tried to mask his slow, painful death in politeness, saying “have a good game” with a casual smile as fake as a halloween mask. He might as well have been wearing a costume the way he felt like he was living someone else’s life, his own had ended in your bedroom when you said the worst three words he’d ever heard.

It’d be better just to avoid you, he figured, turning his attention toward his golf game. He’d never been a huge fan of the sport, but growing up with money and country club memberships, his exposure to it was inevitable. He was good at it too, the same way he was immediately good at everything. Everything except for being with you, apparently. A game he’d lost in record time. Maybe he should just forfeit, maybe he should leave Miami on an overnight bus like the teams that lose the Superbowl. 

So he kept his eyes off of you, a feat akin to not staring directly at an eclipse, and played through the pain.

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“I’m in love, I’m in fucking love, and I’m drunk.”

The second fact was made even more obvious by the fact that the audience you were currently confessing to was a family of ducks.

It was silly, but you were so far gone you didn’t even realize you were speaking out loud. Then the laughter came. Clutching the railing to keep from falling over, you burst out into manic cackles. It was all so ridiculous - of course you were in love with him, you always had been, but this new realization was about something else entirely. It was about the permanence of it. Because, let’s be honest, if these feelings hadn’t gone away after four years and this insane fucking week, then nothing was going to shake them. God, you needed another drink.

And like an answer to your prayers, Ryder and Chad showed up at just that moment, a fresh, ice cold vodka cranberry in tow.

“There she is,” Chad smiled at you, handing you the drink.

“What’s funny, beautiful?” Ryder asked, cozying up to your side, a little closer than you would’ve liked, but your brain was just fuzzy enough not to care.

“Oh, y’know, just like, life,” you smiled at him before taking a long sip from the little plastic straw and continuing your way across the bridge, the boys following close behind.

You finished this drink off faster than any of the ones before it, officially crossing the line between tipsy and drunk.

Somewhere, somehow, Ryder and Chad had scored themselves a golf cart, convincing you to climb in the bed in the back and ride with them. You yelped as the cart flew, going way faster than the little speed limit signs along the cart path allowed for.

The thirty minutes following that drink were a blur. You only remembered flashes of the course, stopping every so often to catch up with your group before Ryder and Chad would whisk you away on the cart again. 

“They were supposed to be my caddies,” Sabrina grumbled when you got the group’s attention by letting out a loud chorus of giggles. “I’m so getting my twenty bucks back.”

The group had reached the thirteenth hole, and you were punching your number into Ryder’s phone, though you couldn’t really remember why. Carter followed Sabrina’s gaze over to you, frowning when she saw you grab Ryder’s arm for stability, the boy giving his friend a smug look when you touched him. 

She was trying her best to give you space, which you so clearly wanted. She didn’t know why on earth you were hanging out with these fuckboys, but she was your sister, not your mother, and she figured she’d done enough criticizing of your decisions this week. Plus, she had her hands full with Topper, who was now so far past drunk she was basically carrying him through the course.

But when she realized you were handing out your personal info to these scumbags while happily accepting another drink, she decided she had to step in. 

“Hey, think maybe it’s time to switch to water?” She suggested gently, stepping in between you and Ryder.

“She’s good,” Ryder told her.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Carter said, turning towards him and getting in his face. “Who the fuck even are you? You think it’s funny, messing with her while she’s clearly drunk?”

“I’m not drunk!” You protested, though your stumble forward completely betrayed you. 

Carter turned back to you, grabbing you before you tripped over your own feet. “Okay, well maybe we can go get a coffee or something, yeah? How about -”

“Oh fuck I’m gonna be sick,” Topper interupted her with a groan, running away from the group and towards a patch of trees in the distance.

Carter watched him with worry, and you nodded in his direction, “you should go after him.”

She hesitated, looking back at you with worry, torn between your need for her and the very real potential that Topper was in even worse shape.

“Carter, go, I’m fine,” you urged her.

She sighed and shot Ryder an absolutely menacing look as she called Rafe’s name, waving him over from his spot behind the tee. He approached nervously, looking between her and Ryder, who was grinning like he’d somehow won this little interaction.

“Can you watch her, please? Do not leave her,” Carter passed your arm to Rafe like she was handing off a crying baby, taking off in Topper’s direction once he’d taken over her grip on you and given her a reassuring nod. As much as she despised Rafe, she knew there was no universe in which he’d leave you drunk and alone with these assholes.

He gave the two boys a glare, towering at least a few inches over each of them, and they stepped back, though they didn’t go far.

“I don’t need a chaperone!” You griped, pulling your arm from his gasp, hoping he didn’t notice the goosebumps already blossoming from where his hands brushed you.

In your attempt to separate from his touch, you pulled your arm away too quickly, making yourself stumble, your pink tinted drink sloshing from the glass and splattering all over Rafe’s baby blue polo.

“Yeah, clearly,” he took in the stain with a sigh.

“That was an accident,” you said with unnecessary defensiveness.

“What else would it be?” He huffed.

“I’m not trying to get you to take your shirt off,” you insisted, as though anyone had accused you of such.

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in amusement, smirking down at you as you deepened the hole nobody asked you to start digging. It was like the words were flowing out on their own volition, the invisible security guard who usually keeps your thoughts locked inside was dead. You’d drowned him in Smirnoff.

“And I am not thinking about how you look with your shirt off,” you couldn’t help but smile at the way he was smiling now, your grin giddy and sloppy, like a toddler laughing at a puppy. 

Whatever runaway train of thought your words had been chasing had long left the station, you stepped towards him as he continued smiling, tripping just a little, Rafe catching you by the elbows for stabilization, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement as you reached up and bushed a line along his jaw with your pointer finger.

“You’re pretty,” you whispered.

“Mmm?” He tilted his head, “and you’re drunk.”

“No ‘mnot,” you shook your head, the action making you dizzy. “I’ve always thought you were pretty. Pretty blue eyes, pretty smile. I love your smile.”

“Love, huh?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Mhm, love,” you leaned in closer, but his arms slid up to your shoulders, pushing you back a little as he helped you stand up straight.

“You used a different word this morning,” he reminded you, making you frown at the memory of a time when your head wasn’t so delightfully swirly and numb, when things could hurt you and your words actually meant something.

“Don’t remember,” you lied with a bite of your lip. 

“You will,” he said, the amusement completely gone from his tone now. “Drink some water.”

After that, Rafe didn’t talk to you for a bit. The group played through, the middle section of the course more challenging than the beginning, longer walks between holes and more sand traps and lakes for you to avoid as you walked in zigzag lines. 

Chad and Ryder were more than happy to help guide you around them, their hands on your lower back as they played gentlemen. What you couldn’t see were the looks they’d give each other when you’d grab their arms with drunken giggles, thanking them sweetly for their help.

They kept bringing you drinks from the cart girl, never saying no when you asked for another. They’d ask you questions and laugh smugly at the way you fumbled to answer them. After a few more sips, you realized there was something about their attention you didn’t like, but in your tipsy state you couldn’t figure out what it was, or muster the words to tell them to leave you alone. 

Plus, as long as they kept bugging you, you knew Rafe would stay close, his eyes trailing back over to you every few seconds, nostrils flailing when one of the boys said something a little too close to your ear. After a whole afternoon of him ignoring you, finally having his attention was almost as intoxicating as the vodka in your glass.

After your fourth drink, you watched him stride over to the cart girl, leaning forward on her small counter as he said something to her you couldn’t hear. Ryder was leaning over you, asking you something about what you were doing after this, but you blocked out the annoying sound of his voice as you watched Rafe with a furrowed brow. 

Why was the cart girl smiling at him like that? He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. A slip of paper maybe? Was he giving her his number? He tapped her counter as he said one final thing to her, nodding with a grin in her direction. 

Your stomach churned, a twisting pain that had nothing to do with your blood alcohol level. You raised an arm to push Ryder away, but he just came right back, buzzing around you like a gnat you couldn’t shake. You held your head in your hands, you were officially no longer having a good time.

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By the fifteenth hole, you were having trouble walking in a straight line. Long gone was the bubbly euphoria of the first few drinks, now a foggy nausea washed over you as the flat coastal horizon swirled in the distance. 

“Omg, she’s totally sloshed, that’s so tacky. Like, she can barely stand straight,” a distant female voice who’s owner’s name you couldn’t quite remember whispered behind you.

“Well she better not bend over too far, her skirt is already barely covering her ass,” a male voice, somehow equally catty, replied. 

The whispers continued, you brought your hands down to tug at either side of your skirt for the thousandth time, knowing damn well it wasn’t going to do anything to make this ridiculous outfit cover you any better.

Having already taken their shots, the others moved onto the next tee, all except the two caddies who’d been getting increasingly forward and sleazy with their flirting and fawning over you, and Rafe, who’d been watching the whole thing closely.

“Here’s your driver, gorgeous,” Ryder smiled smugly while handing you the club, eyes trailing down your body again as Chad chuckled in the background.

His eyes lingering on your chest made something turn in your stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Over his shoulder, your eye caught Rafe, his hands resting on the back of the golf cart as he sneered at Ryder’s back, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the cart’s bed.

Just drunk enough to justify it to yourself somewhere in the back of your mind, you forced a giggle, brushing Ryder’s hand purposefully as you took the club from him.

“Thank you, Ryder,” you fluttered your lashes, hoping Rafe caught the way you flirted with Ryder after seeing him flirt with the cart girl.

You made your way toward the tee, wobbling a little with each step.

“Woah there,” Ryder caught your elbow with a chuckle, his other hand resting on your lower back as he led you to the tee.

“Sorry ‘m just a little dizzy from the heat,” you slurred, fooling no one.

You could barely swing, but when you did, the end of the heavy driver clipped your ball and sent it flying directly into the swampy woods at the edge of the course. You frowned as you watched its disappointing trajectory.

“Shit,” you groaned, knowing it would be a whole ass journey to go fish it out of the woods, and you could barely walk on the trimmed putting green.

“Don’t worry, angel, Chad and I will come with you,” Ryder shot Chad a suggestive look as he started to guide you toward the secluded woods.

That was the last straw.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Rafe stepped in, striding over to where Ryder had his arm swung around you and pushing him off. “You two aren’t going anywhere with her.”

“What’s your problem, man?” Ryder snapped, your eyes flying between them before you got dizzy and started to sway a bit. Instinctively, Rafe held out his arm for you to grab, which you did without really thinking, just grateful to find some stability.

“You’re my problem, asswipe. You think I’m fucking blind? Time for you two to stop circling her like fucking vultures and go find someone else to bother,” Rafe scolded them.

“I think she’s having a good time, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Ryder reached out his hand to you. “C’mon baby, who would you rather go with, me or him?”

You didn’t even have to think about it, your whole body recoiling at the sight of him reaching toward you until you were practically hiding behind Rafe, “I wanna go with Rafe.” 

Ryder actually looked surprised, dropping his hand in disappointment.

“Alright, alright, whatever the lady wants…” he stepped back, setting your bag of clubs down and hopping in the cart, motioning for Chad to join him. “We’ll catch up with you later, alright gorgeous?”

“Yeah don’t fucking bet on it,” Rafe called after them as they started up the cart and pulled away, leaving you standing by his side, still clinging to his arm for balance.

Once they’d disappeared across the horizon, Rafe turned to look down at you.

“You good?” He asked, brushing a stray hair off your forehead and tucking it behind your ear.

“No,” you shook your head, and Rafe frowned at your sad sounding answer, before you could follow-up with, “My ball’s in the woods.”

He smiled, which made you smile, and said, “we’ll go get it. First let’s stop at the drink cart and get you some water, yeah?”

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“Rafe, we’ve been looking forever,” you whined from your seat on a big rock you’d found in the marshy woods. 

Rafe sloshed through the muddy brambles, effectively ruining his shoes as he searched for your long lost golf ball. He smirked at your remark, “we’ve been in here for like three minutes. Just drink your water, alright?”

“Yes sir,” you grumbled, taking another swig from the large bottle of water he’d bought from the cart girl, who you no longer considered your bestie since she was clearly flirting with Rafe while he ordered it, despite you standing right next to him.

Rafe smirked again at the nickname, turning quickly to hide his reaction from you. You sighed as you watched him continue looking around for the small white ball, his brow furrowed as he searched. Rays of golden hour sunlight poured through the cracks in the trees, landing in glowing stripes across his handsome face. Your heart ached for him.

The water was helping bring you back to earth, the world coming back into focus, but you still had enough liquid courage in your system to ask him something that sober you would never dare to.

“Sasha’s really pretty, don’t you think?”

“Who?” Rafe didn’t even look up from his search.

“The cart girl, Sasha,” you told him, watching him like a hawk for any sign that he had in fact given her his number earlier.

“Oh, I dunno,” he shrugged.

“I mean you have eyes though,” you snorted, annoyed at how nonchalant he was acting, as if the most important thing right now really was finding your stupid fucking golf ball. “She’s obviously pretty. Not as pretty as Cassie though.”

This finally got his attention, he looked up from the ground and turned toward you, his head tilting in disappointment as he sighed, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” You asked innocently.

Rafe just responded with your name, lilting it slightly at the end, like he was scolding you.

“Ray-f-uh,” You mirrored his tone, stretching his name out like he had yours.

Rafe just shook his head at you with an incredulous grin, ignoring your teasing and going back to his search.

His apparent indifference toward you today was officially pissing you off. How could he possibly act like nothing that happened in the past few days had happened? The two of you were alone in the fucking woods for god’s sake, and he was still acting like everything was totally normal. 

You stood from your rock, your balance returning to you a little as the water and your determination to get a response from him worked in tandem to sober you up.

“Did you give her your number?” You asked, approaching him slowly, your nearing voice making him turn toward you in surprise.

“Who?” He asked, his tone getting shorter with each second you were pushing him.

“Sasha,” you said, like he should be caught up to your line of questioning by now. “I saw you hand her something and she smiled at you.”

Rafe just looked at you for a second, his face unreadable.

“It’s okay if you did, she is really pretty, I can see why you would like her,” you started rambling as he stepping closer to you, stopping just in front of you so you had to crane your neck to look up at him, Rafe nodding patronizingly as you stumbled over your words.

You kept rambling until he finally spoke, once again merely having to say your name to take your breath away.

“Yes?” You breathed, trying and failing not to sway into him a little as you looked up at his sparkly eyes. The world was swirling again, and this time it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“I did hand her something…a twenty,” he explained. “I was paying her to stop serving you and those fucking goons drinks. I was worried about you.”

“Oh.”

It sounded so small and silly slipping past your lips, but it made him smile at you, which made you smile back, and your world was back on its axis.

“Now can we find your ball and get the fuck out of this swamp?” He requested.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you pointed to a spot a few feet from you, where your ball sat atop a little pile of leaves and twigs.

“Wh - I - when the fuck did you find that?” Rafe gasped in disbelief.

“Oh like five seconds after we got over here,” you shrugged.

His mouth fell open, “then why the hell were you letting me stumble around like an idiot looking for it?”

You giggled at his aggravation, “because I liked watching you. It was cute.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Before you could hit him with some flirty comeback, Rafe started walking toward your ball, calling over his shoulder, “can’t believe all I had to do to get you to forgive me was make you jealous.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor at his words, arms crossed firmly over your chest as you stomped after him.

“First of all, I was not fucking jealous,” you kept walking until you were standing toe to toe with him, nearly kicking your ball out of the way. “And who said anything about me forgiving you?”

“I dunno, this morning you wouldn’t even talk to me and now you’re luring me into the woods so you can watch me like a crazy stalker so…” he matched you by crossing his own arms. “And you absolutely were jealous.”

“Okay, maybe I was, like, a little jealous, but I didn’t lure you anywhere,” you bargained. “And the only reason I wanted to be alone with you is because you’ve spent the whole day acting like nothing happened, you didn’t even notice me until you saw Ryder getting close.”

Rafe’s arm’s fell, as did his smug smile. His eyes were suddenly sympathetic, shaking his head at your words.

“You think I didn’t notice you?” He scoffed. “I’ve spent the entire day forcing myself not to stare at you because I thought that’s what you wanted. It’s been like fucking torture keeping my eyes off of you.”

His words caught you off guard, the whole fuzzy day suddenly coming into focus. All of his walking ahead of you and dedication to his game, it was because you’d told him it was over. Now with him staring down at you, so close you could feel his increasingly ragged breaths fanning across your face, you couldn’t for the life of you remember why you’d said it.

“Do you remember now? What you said earlier?” He asked quietly.

You just nodded, not seeing a reason to tell him that you’d never really forgotten, that you’d been playing the words - I hate you - to him over and over in your head, the regret ringing so loudly in your ears you had to put away six drinks just to drown them out, and even that couldn’t make you stop wishing you’d never said them.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, his voice cracking with vulnerability.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head just slightly, “not even a little bit.”

“Maybe you should, after everything I’ve put you through,” he reminded you, wanting to be sure this was you taking it back, and not the alcohol.

“Maybe. Probably. But I just don’t. I could never hate you, Rafe.”

He nodded once, lips parted to take a deep breath, relief sweeping over his face. You blinked up at him, eyes running over his soft pink lips, so glad to get that off your chest and missing the feeling of his hands on you.

“Fuck, I…I just -” you whispered before rising up on your toes to meet his lips with your own. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him, trying to make him understand, your fingers gripping the back of his polo and bunching it up under your grip. His hands hesitated at his side for a minute, kissing you back, but only slightly. 

Eventually, his palms landed on either side of your face, holding firm as you deepened the kiss. But when you slipped your tongue between his parted lips, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours and his eyes squeezed shut as he fought his own primal instincts.

“I…we shouldn’t,” his voice quivered, like he was trying to convince himself, not you.

“Why not?” You frowned as he pulled your arms from around his neck.

“Because you’re drunk,” he explained, stepping back like he had to physically restrain himself from you. “Believe me, if you weren’t…”

“But ‘mnot! Not anymore, I’m completely s-sober right now, swear,” You insisted, though the way you fumbled over the syllables gave the obvious lie away. Even though you were certainly feeling a bit more clear headed, you definitely would not pass a breathalyzer right now.

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Really, swear. Just please, I need to …please Rafe,” you searched for whatever words would bring his lips back to yours, though you knew that fact that your inhibitions were low enough to actually beg for it was just further proof that it’d be wrong for him to give in to you.

“Tell you what,” he looked around before locating your club, which he’d propped against a tree a few minutes ago. He retrieved it and held it out to you, keeping his distance as if getting too close to you would snap his restraint. “If you can line up the shot and actually hit it out of the woods, then I’ll believe you’re sober.”

You took the club from him defiantly, locating your ball, still waiting in its spot atop the leaves. You stood behind it, trying to square your shoulders and recall something, anything, from the golf lessons your parents had forced you to take as a kid. But as you looked down, the club was splitting in two, blurry in your double vision. You took a deep breath and tried to line it up again, but looking down was making you dizzy, and you stumbled a little.

Looking up at Rafe with a pout, your shoulders sagged as you admitted, “I need help.”

“Knew it,” he teased with a satisfied smirk, laughing at your pitiful stance.

“Raaafe,” you grumbled, only making him laugh more. “Please. I’m dizzy.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you just look so cute right now.” 

He made his way toward you, and you started to lift the club, thinking he was going to take it from you so he could take the shot himself, but instead he circled you and approached from over your shoulder. His hands came to rest over your own, wrapping you in his arms so he could assist you in making the shot. And goddamn if it wasn’t the hottest thing anyone had ever done to you.

Your body relaxed back into his, your back flush against his chest, and his head lowered until his lips were an inch from your ear. The proximity flooded your senses, forcing your eyes to flutter closed briefly.

“Can’t believe you thought I could actually ignore you today,” he whispered, low and slow, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “As if I could pretend I didn’t see you in this fucking dress. As if it hasn’t been driving me absolutely insane. I thought I was gonna have a fucking meltdown trying not to snap and take you in the middle of the fucking golf course.”

God, him and that fucking mouth. You nearly whimpered at his words, and at the heat curling in your belly as he made you impossibly more desperate for him, but before you could react, he lifted your arms up, twisting with you to bring them back down in a perfect swing, the club sending your ball out of the woods with an echoing thwack! that forced your eyes to fly open.

Rafe released your hands so you could drop the club, but he didn’t let go of you, keeping his word and not kissing you, but just holding you. You turned in his arms and wrapped your own around his waist, hugging him back. His chin settled on the top of your head and you sighed contently as his arms squeezed you a little tighter, your body enveloped in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” You asked.

“For dropping your hand, for everything,” he explained.

It took you a full minute, but you said it with your whole chest.

“I forgive you.”

You stood holding each other in silence for a long time. Rafe brushed soothing circles into your back when he felt a single tear roll down your face onto his shirt, dampening the same spot where you’d spilled your drink on him a few hours ago.

After a while, he tucked his chin to drop a soft kiss on the top of your head, smiling into your hair. His voice was muffled when he confessed, “I’m glad you chose me over that fucking punk kid.”

You smiled, pulling away from him just enough to look up at him with a smug grin, “aha, so maybe you were the one that was jealous!”

He smacked his lips, looking away from you to try and fight back his smile, finally resigning, “okay, maybe a little.”

“A little!” You scoffed. “You looked like you were about to fight them.”

“Nah, I don’t do that anymore,” he admitted bashfully, voice lowering to add, “I don’t think my therapist would be too happy with me.”

Your head tilted in intrigue, “your therapist?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Needed a little help… to grow up, you know?”

“Rafe, I think that’s great,” you told him, giving him one more squeeze. “Thank you for telling me that.”

“I want…I don’t know,” he pulled away from you, scratching the back of his neck. “I want to tell you everything, you know? Like when something happens to me, good or bad, you’re the one I wanna tell. I just didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

“I do,” you reached out and squeezed his hand to reassure him. “I want to hear it all.”

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Emerging from the woods, mud splattered up to your knees and giddy smiles painted on your faces, you slipped your hand into his. You thought maybe you should give him some excuse about how you were still drunk and you just needed to hold his hand for stability, but you didn’t have it in you to lie.

As you walked, you thought back to a few minutes earlier, when you’d clung to him to avoid Ryder’s touch. How he’d appeared by your side when you needed him and you didn’t even have to think twice before saying you wanted to stay with him. How it never crossed your mind that it’d be a bad idea to go into those woods with him, because for the first time, you really truly trusted him.

When you were young, Rafe was a storm. He brought an uneasiness with him wherever he went. Being around him always made you feel a little unsteady, knowing the wind could shift at any minute, but never knowing what kind of emotional havoc it could wreak when it did. 

But now, he was different. This wasn’t a violent, unpredictable boy, but a steady, trustworthy man. And it washed over you like a dream - once a hurricane, Rafe was now your safe harbor. 

And you’d never felt so sure the storm had really passed.

Yes, Rafe had hurt you in the past. That was true, and it couldn’t be undone. But you trusted him not to hurt you now, and you loved him. Both things could be true, and you finally felt ready to live with that contradiction, finally felt strong enough to face your own emotions, knowing you’d have him to hold onto for support whenever the world swayed under your feet. You squeezed his hand at the thought. 

It was a long, quiet walk back to the clubhouse, but there was much said in the silence. 

The two of you stood outside the locker room doors, your hand still in his as he looked down at you with an adoring grin.

“So I’m gonna shower, and maybe get some coffee,” you laughed softly, looking down at your mud caked legs. “And then maybe we could go somewhere and, I dunno, talk? Or something?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice soft as it fanned over your face. “We’ll talk. Or something.”

“Maybe you can tell me more about therapy?” You said with a cheeky glint in your eyes, wondering how much of his inner life you could convince him to spill to you before the day was done.

He laughed, “Sure. I’ll tell you anything, whatever you want to know.”

“Good. No more secrets?” Your smile cracked a bit at the question, just a tiny bit of lingering distrust left in your heart. 

He eased it with a kiss to the back of your hand before letting go of you slowly.

“No more secrets,” he promised. 

And you believed him.

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Rafe watched you go until the locker room door swung fully shut behind you, his heart and mind soaring somewhere in the clouds.

He hadn’t felt this good in such a long time. In fact, he may have never felt this good. He stood on the patio for a long time, just watching the pink-purple clouds of the swirling sunset and wondering how he got so fucking lucky. 

The rest of the group slowly returned from the eighteenth hole, Cassie and Sabrina arriving just before Carter and Maddie.

“Topper?” He asked Carter, suddenly remembering his friend, who had been in bad shape the last time he saw him.

“Jack and Tom took him home in a company car,” she explained. “He’s good, just not gonna let him drink again, like ever.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Rafe said, surprising both himself and Carter with his sincerity. She gave him a look that was half confusion, half unexpected friendliness before following Maddie into the locker room.

Kelce showed up last, struggling to carry multiple bags of clubs, which Rafe could only assume meant the girls had somehow conned him into carrying theirs.

“Dude,” Kelce panted. “Where the hell have you been? You should’ve seen me at the eighteenth, hit a fucking birdie man.”

“Bullshit,” Rafe ribbed him as he helped him unload the bags off his shoulders, Kelce taking a deep breath once he’d finally unloaded their weight.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here man,” Kelce suggested. “We should go downtown and get fucked up.”

“Nah, man, I don’t do that shit anymore,” Rafe shook his head. “Plus I got plans tonight…with my girl.”

Kelce’s eyes widened, breaking into a goofy grin as he shook Rafe by the shoulders.

“No shit? You finally locked it down, huh? Never thought you were gonna pull that shit off, man!”

Rafe smirked despite himself, “yeah, yeah, alright. Only took me fifteen fucking years man.”

The two slipped into the men’s locker room, heading towards the rental lockers where they’d stored the clothes they arrived in.

“I need details, bro,” Kelce pressed him. “I mean after the way she was acting this morning, I thought you’d blown it for good.”

Rafe opened his mouth to explain that he too thought he’d ruined his chances with you, but before he could, the door to the locker room swung open. From their spot behind the wall of lockers, they couldn’t see who was accompanying the voices that were in the middle of an entirely too-loud conversation, but Rafe recognized them immediately.

“Dude, you’re fucking crazy, she’s at least, like a nine, nine point five. You don’t have a chance,” Chad scolded his friend.

“I don’t care what she is, as long as she stays fucking faded,” Ryder laughed.

“Seriously, she was a fucking mess, she’d be so fucking easy, dude.”

Rafe’s whole demeanor changed at the sound of their conversation. His eyes flicking over Kelce’s face for just a second as his jaw clenched tight. Kelce watched him anxiously, neither of them needed to wonder who Chad and Ryder were talking about, after they’d followed you around all afternoon, coping as many sneaky feels as they could before Rafe stepped in.

He thought they’d gotten the message when he told them to back off, but apparently they hadn’t.

“Got her number, she invited us to her beach house,” Ryder informed his friend with a conspiratorial grin. 

“Fucking perfect,” Chad slapped him five like he’d just won some kind of trophy. “You keep the drinks flowing and I’ll make a move.”

“No fucking way,” Ryder protested. “I’m the one who scored the invite, your perverted ass can watch while I seal the fucking deal.”

“Ah, you’d really diss your brother like that?” Chad whined.

“You know what, you do the job correctly and maybe I’ll let you have a taste when she’s finally blacked out, yeah?”

Forget protective, this was enough to send Rafe on a full fucking killing spree. He was almost too infuriated to move, but that last remark sent him reeling around the corner of the lockers in a path of destruction no one could stop, not even Kelce, who was close behind him in an absolute panic.

“Rafe, don’t man, they’re not worth it,” he warned, trying to catch up. 

But he was too late, Rafe was already barreling toward Ryder and Chad, who looked up in shock when they realized suddenly that they weren’t alone. 

Rafe lunged toward Ryder, grabbing him by the collar of his club issued uniform and slamming him up against the lockers. His forearm pressed into Ryder’s neck, pinning him up helplessly.

“I thought I made myself fucking clear.” Despite his aggressive stance, and the air slowly leaking from Ryder’s crushed throat, Rafe’s tone was smooth, his lips twisted in a terrifying smile that had absolutely zero joy behind it.

He looked over at Chad, who was watching, and cowering, in horror. “But you two fucking morons didn’t seem to understand, did you? So let me phrase it in a way even two shit-for-brains like you can grasp, yeah? Say one more fucking word about her or ever even breathe in her fucking vicinity again, and I will fucking end you. Got it?”

Chad nodded rapidly next to Rafe, his wide eyes pleading for mercy. Rafe pressed hard on Ryder’s neck one more time, grinning menacingly at the pained cry he let out before releasing him, his body slumping back against the locker as his hands rubbed over his sore neck.

“Good,” Rafe smiled again, patting Chad’s cheek patronizingly, smirking at the way he flinched in fear.

He turned from them, back toward Kelce, who looked relieved it hadn’t gone any farther, knowing what Rafe was capable of from his many drunken fights in high school. And considering this grown-up Rafe was even stronger, Kelce said a silent prayer Ryder and Chad would just keep their mouths shut.

God apparently wasn’t listening.

Chad pulled Ryder toward the locker room door as Rafe stood over the sink, white knuckling the edge as he tried to get control of himself, repeating some mental mantra Kelce couldn’t hear. They’d almost made a clean break of it, before Ryder pulled himself from his friend’s desperate grasp, turning around to taunt,

“Can’t help it if the slut is asking for it, man.”

Rafe looked up slowly, meeting Kelce’s terrified eyes in the mirror.

“Rafe, man, they’re just kids, alright?” He reminded him, his voice begging for Rafe to regain control of himself.

Rafe turned slowly, stepping towards Ryder, who was doing his best to stand tall and square his shoulders, despite the way his whole body was obviously shaking in fear. Rafe absolutely towered over him.

“Just a kid, huh? How old are you guys?” Rafe asked, his voice confusingly friendly in a way that disarmed Ryder slightly.

“Just turned eighteen,” he said proudly.

Rafe nodded casually, looking down at his hands and adjusting the solid gold ring on his forefinger with a grin.

“Good.”

Rafe’s fist met Ryder’s jaw with a crack! 

The cool metal engraving of the Cameron family crest on Rafe’s ring split his lip like a knife, blood immediately running down his face as his neck snapped backward with the force of Rafe’s punch. Ryder stumbled backward, Chad cowering away and letting his friend fall through the swinging locker room door and stumbling into the lobby.

Rafe followed after him, Kelce’s shouting voice somewhere far, far away as he zeroed in on Ryder’s hunched over body, clutching his face in pain and panic. Kelce was begging him to stop, but Rafe couldn’t hear it, all he could hear were Ryder’s words, all he could see was your face, your body, the things they were planning to do to it. At that thought, his arm cocked back again, knocking into Chad, who was fruitlessly trying to pull him back. 

Rafe’s fist collided with Ryder’s face again, and again and again, until he couldn’t tell skin apart from blood, until Ryder was flat on his back and Rafe was hovering over him, unleashing the full force of his anger.

Nothing could stop him, not Kelce’s pleading, or Chad’s, not his own conscience, screaming from the back of his mind that he needed to calm down, that he was gonna fucking kill this kid if he didn’t stop soon. 

And he would’ve too, if the door to the women’s locker room hadn’t swung open, if you hadn’t come running out of it, tears streaming down your face and Carter’s voice calling after you. You stopped dead in your tracks and looked down at him in sheer shock and horror.

“Rafe! Oh my god, what the fuck are you doing?!”

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The steamy cascade of the shower felt so nice, you sighed aloud as the warm water rushed down your back to your mud caked legs, dragging clumps of the swamp down the drain with it. You hummed a little happy tune to yourself as you washed. When you’d entered the locker room, you were the only one in it, having your pick of showers and choosing the biggest one. Your eyes closed as you breathed in the steam, feeling the rest of your sobriety return to you, eyelashes fluttering open again excitedly as you remembered Rafe was just on the other side of this wall, waiting for you.

Your mind wandered pleasantly to all the possible things this evening could have in store, using a second pump of body wash at the thought, your stomach full of butterflies. As you washed the day off, you let your mind wander even farther, past tonight, past this week, when the trip was over and it would be just you and Rafe, facing the summer together. You’d help him with his summer class, as much as he needed, be there to cheer for him when he graduated. Surely, he’d have to start working once he got his diploma and you’d have to go back north for your last year of school, but he could come visit you on the weekends, and for once in your four years away, you’d actually look for reasons to return to the OBX instead of avoiding it at all costs. 

The future, which usually made your stomach twist in anxiety with all its uncertainty and vastness, seemed to glow now, shining like a star in the distance with the knowledge you’d reach it with Rafe by your side. 

Part of you mourned that you were just now claiming this life for yourself, all the wasted time between you and Rafe seeming tragic now that you knew what it was like to be with him. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t waste any more time being sad about that, thinking instead of what Rafe would look like on one knee in front of you someday, a vision that for the first time in your life, was completely real and in reach.

The door to the patio squeaking open interrupted your reverie, two familiar voices in mid-conversation robbing you of your once private locker room experience. 

“So uncomfy actually, she was such a mess. Like why are you sloppy drunk in the middle of the day? That’s just sad,” Sabrina’s voice carried under the shower curtain. You knew she couldn’t see you, but you still turned away toward the shower wall as you listened in as if you were shielding yourself from her. Clearly, she was talking about you, but to who?

“I don’t know, maybe she just needed to blow off some steam. We’ve all been there,” Cassie deflected.

Once again, you were shocked by how kind Cassie was being, weirdly kind of touched at how quickly she’d come to your defense. 

“Since when are the two of you the best of friends?” Sabrina snapped back, clearly embarrassed that Cassie was taking the high road while she was talking shit like a teenager.

“We’re not, I just don’t see why you need to drag her down all the time when she’s never actually done anything to you,” Cassie pushed back.

It took everything in you not to shout “exactly!” from your shower stall, biting your tongue as you waited for Sabrina’s response.

“Okay maybe not to me, but she’s done shit to you. Sorry that I’m being defensive over my best friend,” Sabrina reasoned.

You were baffled, literally scratching your head as you tried to think of one bad thing you could’ve possibly ever done to Cassie of all people.

“Okay, well it’s not like she knew she was doing it, Rafe never told her.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Rafe never told her. Completely sober now, you still had to clutch the wall to stay standing straight.

“Maybe Carter did though,” Sabrina reasoned. “Those two are like freaky close, even for sisters.”

“No, I don’t think she would’ve,” Cassie explained. “Rafe said it was like an unspoken agreement between them. Like if he ghosted her sister, Carter would leave Rafe alone and stuff. I don’t see her admitting that they made some weird pact to keep her in the dark like that.”

Your body was so still, the shampoo you’d just lathered into your hair was running down your face and into your eyes, and you didn’t even care. You were numb, no feeling where it was stinging your eyes as you blinked it away, frozen in shock.

If he ghosted her. Keep her in the dark. An unspoken agreement between them.

Your mind was spinning too fast to fully make sense of it, but just fast enough to conjure an image of Carter and Rafe in high school, shaking hands as they made some kind of deal over you. Then a flash of you, in the weeks that followed, sobbing into your pillow as Carter sat at the edge of your bed, assuring you that Rafe was just some guy who ghosted you and you’d get over him eventually. And Rafe, in his own bed a few streets over, ignoring your texts and justifying the way he’d pretend like he didn’t even know you when he saw you in the halls at school.

It was all part of some fucking pact? You were sick to your fucking stomach.

Before you could start retching, the door swung open again, the unmistakable sound of Carter’s laugh wafting in with the evening air. Maddie laughed alongside her, mumbling something about Kelce looking out of breath. Your nausea quickly turned to absolute disgust at the thought of Carter laughing without a care while you were reeling from the news of her betrayal and swallowing the taste of shampoo.

You slammed the shower handle to the left, shutting the water off with a squeak of the faucet. Grabbing your towel from the hook and just barely taking the time to wrap it around yourself, you stormed out of the showers and into the locker room, beelining past a shocked Sabrina and Cassie and straight toward Carter, who stopped mid-joke to take you in with surprise.

“You made a fucking pact?!” You spat at her.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, the remnants of a smile still lingering on the corner of her lips.

“You and Rafe, in highschool. You made a deal over me?” Your mind was racing so far ahead of you that it was difficult to string the words together. But the way Carter’s face fell and flooded with panic told you she knew exactly what you were referring to.

“You said he was just showing his true colors, you said he was ghosting me. But you fucking told him to? How could you do that to me?” Your voice cracked as you accused her.

“I was protecting you!” She defended herself.

“By fucking lying to me?”

Her eyes skittered around, trying to figure out what to say, eventually landing on your neck. In an instant, her face shifted from panicked guilt to cold anger.

“You wanna talk about lying? Nice necklace you got yourself there,” she pointed to your exposed clavicle, uncovered by your towel.

Your stomach dropped, not needing to look in the mirror to know everyone in the room could see the hickies that were scattered across your collarbone.

“Nothing happened, huh?” Carter repeated the words you’d sworn to her over and over when she’d pressed you about what happened when you disappeared with Rafe the other day. “Or did you get those hickies from those fucking caddies?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you told her, your hand coming up to cover the marks as though that would make everyone forget they’d seen them. “You’ve been lying to me for years. And I only lied about hooking up with Rafe because for once in my life I didn’t want to hear your fucking judgemental opinion.”

The rest of the girls stood back, completely frozen in fear as they watched the completely unprecedented event unfolding before them. No one had ever heard you and Carter speak like this to each other, mainly because you and Carter never had spoken like this to each other. It was terrifying, having no blueprint for what was going to happen next, no idea how low the two of you would be willing to go.

“Maybe I give you my opinion on everything because you can never do anything by your fucking self,” she crossed her arms. “I mean, hell if I hadn’t pushed you to come on this trip you never would’ve even spoken to Rafe again in the first place. But now, he’s what, the love of your fucking life?”

“You’re right, Car, how would I make it through life without the opinions of someone with the emotional intelligence of a fucking toddler? You can’t even tell someone you love them without having a full blown panic attack on the bathroom floor.”

“Oh you wanna talk about emotions? You cried over him every night for twelve fucking years,” she shot back. “And you’re supposed to be the ‘emotionally healthy’ one? Give me a fucking break. He kissed Cassie one time and you acted like the whole fucking world had ended, what the fuck was I supposed to do? You helped him fucking prom-pose to her for god’s sake, and I couldn’t say anything about it. I wasn’t gonna sit back and let them keep hurting you like that.”

Heat rushed to your face, unable to keep your eyes from flicking over to Cassie, who looked away quickly, as if she could spare you the sheer mortification you were experiencing at the sound of Carter revealing one of your dearest secrets right in front of the person you least wanted to hear.

Carter knew she’d gone too far, eyes flashing with regret, almost wincing at her own words. 

“I’m sor-”

“Save it,” you pulled your towel tighter around yourself, rushing over to the locker where you’d stored the clothes you came in. You pulled them on quickly, ignoring Carter as she rushed to try and apologize. 

“I shouldn’t have said that in front of her, okay? I’m just- you’re not giving me a chance to explain. It was a long time ago and it’s complicated. Please, let’s just talk, I wanna talk about this.”

Once your clothes were pulled back on, you turned to her.

“No, I’ve been listening to you talk my whole fucking life, and I don’t even know if I can believe what you say anymore.” Tears finally slipped past your lash line.

You brushed past her and headed for the door, not sparing a glance to the other girls, who were still standing back near the showers, pretending they couldn’t hear every word you were saying.

“Wait, no, please wait!” Carter called after you as you ripped open the door to the lobby, but you didn’t hear her, too stunned by what you found on the other side.

Rafe was kneeling above a bloodied and beaten Ryder, his arm cocked back for another in what must have been a long series of blows. His eyes were wild, like an animal attacking their prey. His own face had flecks of blood scattered across it, that you surmised wasn’t his own.

He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide and his entire body consumed by rage. 

And there it was: the storm of him. The one you had just been so sure had passed, breaking again right in front of you.

You trembled, more tears slipping from your eyes, as Ryder groaned from under Rafe’s hold, too battered to fight back. 

“Rafe! Oh my god, what the fuck are you doing?!” You screamed in terror.

Carter and the other girls came running out at the sound of your shriek, all their jaws falling slack at the sight. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill him!” You cried, noting the way Rafe still hadn’t let Ryder up off the floor. “Why are you doing this?”

“They were talking shit,” Kelce jumped in to explain, Rafe too consumed with chaos to form the words. 

“I don’t care what they said, that doesn’t give you the right to break someone’s skull in,” you screamed at Rafe, praying he’d lower his fist before he did anymore damage. 

“He was saying he was gonna get you wasted and pass you over to his buddy once you were too blackout to realize,” Kelce clarified.

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” Carter snapped, looking toward Chad, who was white as a ghost as she stormed toward him. 

Before you could react, Carter had pulled back her own fist, crashing it into Chad’s face with a thud. The rest of the room gasped, even Rafe whipped his head toward her in shock.

“Ow, fuck!” She screamed and shook out her knuckles, some of them surely broken after that punch. At the same moment, Chad stumbled backward and crashed into a large, expensive looking vase sitting in the middle of the lobby, which rocked back and forth a few times before crashing to the floor and shattering into a million pieces.

The sound echoed throughout the lobby, and the desk agent came running from the employee break room toward the commotion.

Chad cried out, holding his nose as it began leaking blood, and the front desk agent barrelling around the corner, his eyes going wide at the scene in front of him.

He pulled a walkie talkie from his belt and spoke quickly, informing someone on the other end, “call security now. And tell them to get the real cops.”

“Oh fuck,” Kelce groaned, his hands flying to his head in worry. “Rafe, fuck man, I love you but…I can’t be here right now.”

With that, Kelce ran through the lobby, jumping over Ryder’s limp legs to make his escape. Sabrina grabbed Cassie’s hand and dragged her after him, Maddie hesitating for just a minute before looking sympathetically to Carter, who was doubled over in pain.

“Sorry,” Maddie said. “I just got into med school.”

With that excuse, she ran after the others, stepping in some of Ryder’s blood and trailing footprints across the glossy marble floor.

As the front door to the club closed behind her, two security guards arrived, huffing in their tight uniforms, clearly having run here.

“Nobody else better fucking move,” he warned, holding up his knightstick as he gasped for air. “The police are on their way.”

The other guard hurried to pull Rafe off of Ryder. With his eyes still pinned on you, Rafe finally climbed off of him, slumping back against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, his blood soaked hands resting limply on top of his thighs like they hadn’t just beat this kid within an inch of his life.

“You,” the heavily breathing guard pointed at Carter while his partner checked Ryder’s eyes to make sure he was still conscious. “Against the wall, too. Now.”

Carter obeyed, following his instruction to sit next to Rafe, her knuckles red and swollen as she held her hand up pathetically. 

“You two better have a good fucking excuse when the cops arrive,” the guard scolded them. He looked at you for any sign of your own involvement, “unless someone else wants to take responsibility?”

You just looked down at Rafe and Carter, never in your life having seen a more pitiful sight than the two of them slumped on the ground, looking at you like you were their last hope.

“Nope,” you shrugged. “These two got here all on their own.”

Careful to avoid getting blood on your own shoes, you turned your back on them and left.

(to be continued)

no author's note. there will be no explanation, there will only be reputation.

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