#that her teeth are just busted up bottles

[pkochetkov]

idk if ur still taking requests but if u are matthew knies with either 12 or 22 please :)

[smut] in the club

pairing: matthew knies x fem!reader

summary: matthew doesn’t like the club, but he likes you

authors note: reader is on birth control for the sake of bc i said so. not proofread at all, or edited so yk.

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”, cussing, reader calls matthew handsome idk, lmk if i missed any

matthew never really liked going out. sure, he’d go to the club to celebrate wins with the team,

or to celebrate friends birthdays, but he didn’t like the constant noise or the slew of girls that came up to him looking for a quick fuck just because of his name and status.

but tonight was different. he was once again out celebrating another win with the team, rejecting girls and trying to make sure mitch didn’t make a fool of himself. he was convinced this night was another bust where he’d be stuck taking care of those who lost themselves in the endless drinks, but then he saw you.

you’d just walked in, hand in hand with a few friends, laughing at some lame joke. dressed in a red dress that hugged your figure perfectly. gold and silver jewelry has never looked better together, he was absolutely convinced. your black heels made your legs look absolutely delicious, the muscles in your thighs accentuated with every step you took.

his staring didn’t go unnoticed.

“you’re being eye-fucked” your friend leaned over and whispered to you. your eyes scanned the room before locking on a tall, broad man. striking green eyes catching yours, neither of you making any move to break eye contact.

he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt that gripped his biceps in a way that had your thighs squeezing together. he was yummy.

“dude, go get her,” matthew was snapped out of his daze by auston slapping a rough and on his shoulder. he looked at the drink in his hand, mitch clinging to the couch, and back at auston who shook his head, “i’ve got him. you go.”

matthew nodded, “i’ll see you guys later.” auston smirked, “no you won’t.”

matthew downed the rest of his beer and began making his way to the empty seat next to you. you made it a point not to notice, or point out that you had, him.

the bartender walked over and matthew held his bottle up signaling for another, before also nodding over to your close to empty drink. “another for the pretty girl also.” you smiled.

“pretty girl, huh?” you’d stopped swirling the remnants of your martini in the glass and turned to face the large man next to you. his green eyes were captivating, but also slightly scary. they felt like they were staring into your very being.

“just being honest.” matthew shrugged at the words and thanked the bartender for your refilled drinks. “you here with anyone?” he knew you were. your friends had left you the minute he made his way over.

“why? wanna take this conversation elsewhere?” the insinuation was unexpected to him. those lips looked like they’d never uttered a lewd word in your lifetime, but god he couldn’t resist knowing what they felt like wrapped around him.

he smirked and pulled your chair closer to him, “i was intending to talk to you more, but if you wanna skip all that,”

you smiled at his words, and downed the rest of your drink before standing up. “come on handsome, i don’t bite. unless you want me to.”

matthew swore under his breath and grabbed your hand leading you down the hallway toward the bathrooms. he shoved the door open and pushed you inside, pressing you against the door and connecting your lips in a hungry dance.

teeth clashed and matthew reached behind you to lock the door. his hands raked over your frame, pulling at the red dress that captivated him. your hands slid down to the waistband of his jeans, popping the button open and sliding one hand inside.

he was semi hard, just from the kissing. you squeezed the tip of his cock and he hissed into the kiss, pressing more into your hand. you pulled away from the kiss to drop down to your knees, taking his pants and boxers down with you.

his cock stood tall, tip tinged a bright pink accompanied by a thick vein that ran down the shaft of it, your hand barely wrapping around the girth. “fuck, you’re so big.”

matthew grabbed onto your hair as you began stroking him. you brought his cock to your lips and began tapping it against you. this whole situation was so erotic, matt was convinced he’d be thinking about it for weeks.

“come on pretty girl, suck it for me.” his voice was so much deeper, slightly raspier, and who were you to say no?

you took what you could into your mouth, hallowing your cheeks around it, and dragging your tongue against the tip on its way in. the man above you cussed and gripped your hair a little tighter. his hips bucked slightly making you gag slightly, the squeeze of your throat bring him closer to the edge.

you pulled off of him, using your saliva to coat the rest of him, allowing your hand too glide across him easier. matthew used the hand in your hair to pull you up and reconnect your lips. you moaned into the kiss and he gripped your thighs to lift you up. he walked you over the counter and turned you so you faced the mirror.

he lifted your dress up so it gathered around your hips and pulled your thong to the side. you were already soaking just from sucking him off and he loved it. matthew stuck his middle and ring finger into his mouth, coating them before bringing them down to your cunt. his eyes connected with yours in the mirror and he watched as your jaw fell open at the intrusion of his fingers.

matt curled them down seeking that spongy spot deep in your cunt, smiling when you let out a high pitched moan when he found it. his fingers fucked into you in such a way you weren’t sure you’d be able to replicate by yourself. you’d never felt so full, just from his fingers. your legs began to get weak at the thought. matthew noticed this and pulled his fingers out making you whine in protest.

“calm down,” he said and lifted your hips to line himself up with your entrance. he moved his hands so one was holding you up and the other was guiding his cock into you. he relished in the deep moan you let you and the way you squeezed around him with every inch he pushed in.

“there you go, taking me like a good girl. look at that. such a pretty pussy you got.” his words made your head spin, the look in his eyes almost making you cum on the spot. this. this was heaven. he filled you so deep you didn’t even think this was possible. he pulled out slightly before he began hammering into you.

every thrust of his hips sent you into the counter, you were sure it would leave bruises along the tops of your thigh but you couldn’t find it in you to care at the moment. not when the big hockey player behind you was the cause of it. every thrust had your vision going blurry. his tip kissed your cervix every time he pushed in, balls slapping against your clit in such a way you never thought you’d feel pleasure from.

matthew let out deep groans every now and again, a breathy fuck left his lips everytime you’d squeeze around him, and a lewd squelching sound echoed in the dim bathroom everytime he pushed back in.

“close. i- oh fuck- i’m gonna cum.” your moans picked up, and so did matthew’s thrusts. he put both hands on your hips to pull you back into his, “cum for me pretty. come on, i know you can.”

your vision went dark, your legs shook and your hands gripped the sink in front of you. matthew had never heard such an ethereal moan than yours when you came. cum began gathering at the base of his cock and his thrusts began to fall out of rhythm.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck,” matthew let out before slamming his hips into you, shooting ropes of cum deep into your cunt. his breathing was heavy and he let go of your hips causing him to slide out of you slightly.

he slowly thrusted, riding out the rest of his climax and overstimulating the both of you before fully pulling out. a mix of your cum and his leaked out of you and onto the floor. he moved your underwear back into place and helped pull your dress down.

your legs were weak and sore, but tolerable. you watched the man pull his pants and boxers up and look back at you.

“i’ve got a nice shower at my place. you know, so we can clean up.” matthew said, a sly way of inviting you back to his to “clean up”. you smiled at him and stuck a hand out, “take me home, handsome.”

[presidentsdaughter]

note/tags - suicide but not jimmy.. just his mom, slight gore mention, some smut?, dry humping, jimmy is like early 20s in this.. start to a fic i couldn’t bother to finish, bad writing..

Jimmy’s mom is all over the walls. It’s like someone has set off a fucking party popper. She didn’t even have the decency to get him a banner.

Welcome home Jim! Congrats on getting bailed out! I knew you could do it!

Not even that. Not a single slice of cake. Not even a candle or a party hat or a gift box or a fucking hug. Whatever people get on their birthdays.

Jimmy stands there, jaw tight, unblinking as he looks over the mess she has made of herself, the house, and his life. She’s smoked all her cigs, drained every bottle, snorted anything fine enough to suck up through a straw, and he knows Mom, she’d never leave a needle behind. So the only thing she leaves in his name is this mess and this awful smell.

He toes at what is left of her, her legs bent awkwardly at the knee like a mistreated Barbie doll. Her face is this gaping hole that looks something like her bloody cunt the day she pushed him out. For a second he wishes that it would open up like the maw of a beast and swallow him whole, take him back to where he came from, and then he goes back to feeling nothing much.

It’s no biggie. Jimmy never liked her much. She liked Curly more than she liked him, but everyone likes Curly more than him. He’s a sole-crushed peach splattered on the sidewalk, picking up grit and dirt, and Curly is a fucking prized watermelon or a silver spoon, a real nice spoon, the fancy kind you only get out for guests—He’d come and use his polished edge to scoop Jimmy right up, shape him into something nice, clean him off and serve him for dessert.

Curly bailed him out. He drove Jimmy home in his nice new car, it smelt good and had his initials on the number plate. He did this all because he needs Jimmy to feel good. So he can go and tell anyone that’ll listen about his piss-poor junkie best friend. How he put him back on his feet. Curly is modern day fucking Christ and Jimmy is a crippled leper.

By his mother’s open hand is his father’s handgun. She’s named Mia after the chick in Pulp Fiction. Jimmy picks her up, gives her a once over, and tucks her in his back pocket for a rainy day. He goes to take a piss because he’s been busting for one ever since Curly picked him up, but the throbbing urgency numbed when he saw his fragments of mom’s skull dotting the carpet like milk teeth.

Jimmy takes his piss and then he notices mom didn’t even leave a single sheet of toilet paper behind. He shakes himself dry, returns to the couch where she lays limp, thinks of blowing off her tits and then decides she isn’t worth another bullet. Jimmy turns the gun to himself. He wonders if mom put it to the right side of her head or the left. Probably in her stupid whore mouth. She would let anyone in there.

“You’re joining the party, huh?” You’re standing in the doorway of his trailer, lukewarm and unsmiling, snapping your gum like this is no big deal. You’ve always been that way. Unaffected. Jimmy pulls the trigger and Mia jams. She’s an old girl. He forgives her. He just wanted to see you cry.

Jimmy doesn’t really think you would cry, but he likes the thought of it. You would look so fucking ugly when you cry.

“I found her earlier, heard the shot and came to check.” You’re wearing short shorts so short the inside of your pockets hang out past the cuffs. “But I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“Fuck you,” Jimmy says, arm dangling by his side. Mia clatters to the ground when his fingers lose grip.

“That’s not very nice,” you tell him evenly, sidestepping clumps of clotted blood to get to him.

Jimmy flops down beside his mom’s faceless body. She talked too much so the silence is kind of nice. He spreads his legs and you drape yourself over him, pressing your tits to his chest and sucking his tongue into your warm mouth.

“I didn’t forget your present.” You’re rolling your hips into his, the old couch creaks with the weight of all two and a half of you. His mom topples sideways onto his shoulder and Jimmy shoves her dead weight back the other way. Blood smears the arm of his shirt where she fell, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Oh, yeah?” Jimmy bites your neck, he feels the pulse of your hot cunt through those tiny shorts.

“Course I didn’t, saved the date and everything.”

He half expects you to dig into your bra and pull out a baggie of something, but you just offer him a half smile, giving a sideways glance to the stinking corpse.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖: 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕀𝕔𝕖

𝙽𝙷𝙻!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚆𝙰𝙶!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: older!rafe, jealous!reader, make up sex, rafe is down bad, multiple orgasms, possessive!reader, petty!reader, oral (fem. & male receiving), swearing, slight angst, overstimulation, nipple play, female worship, unprotected p in v, spit kink

📖 NHL!Rafe gets caught smiling at the Ice Girl after scoring a goal on his way back to the bench; his winning night just turned into a loss—now he needs to make it right. ♥️

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The cold from the rinks seeps in through the glass as you stand up, watching Rafe in his element, skating with the kind of ease only years of playing hockey could bring. Every movement is smooth and deliberate as he weaves through traffic with precision.

Your eyes widen as he finds his hole, sending this puck sailing past the goalie, lighting the lamp as the crowd goes wild. The area erupts with cheers as his teammates pile on him at the corner in celebration, Rafe smiling ear to ear.

Your heart beats a little faster, and you can’t help but swoon as you see your boyfriend commanding the team and the audience of rowdy fans as the Goal Song plays. He looks over at you, giving you a smile and a wink as he always does, making your heart flutter. But your smile quickly fades as he skates closer to the bench.

You look up at the jumbotron, wondering if you were going insane… because there’s no possible way your boyfriend just skated past an Ice Crew girl and smiled at her.

Not just a smile. The smile—the smile that makes you weak in the knees. The smile he shot you from across the bar all those years ago.

You look up at the screen, watching it again as the pretty blonde skates along the boards, shoveling the snow away with her shovel. Her little Santa Clause skirt catches the breeze, showing off her red, sparkly booty shorts underneath. She even looked surprised at their little exchange, her blonde curls bouncing as she double-takes.

She skates back toward the boards, looking at the bench as Rafe takes his glove off with his teeth, stripping himself of his helmet before running his fingers through his sweaty hair, none the wiser.

You look toward the bench too, watching as she glides past him one last time on her way off the ice—arching her back with each push of her skate blades; tits busting out of the top of the red velvet crop top.

Rafe’s attention is long gone, but that doesn’t mean you’re over it—not in the slightest. He grabs his Gatorade bottle, squirting it lazily in his mouth as his coach yells at the other men about a line change.

It was quick and harmless—probably nothing more than a polite acknowledgment. But at this moment, it feels anything but. Your jaw clenches as you stew a little more, hating yourself for your jealous streak. But waving that feeling is next to impossible, especially when it comes to Rafe. Your Rafe…

The cameras didn’t catch that he smiled at you… All they saw was #2 skating off the bench after a critical goal, smiling at the crowd before turning his attention to her.

Music blares over the speakers again, repeating the goal in slow motion—a repeat of everything in slow motion… Your mind starts to race away, and your irritation bubbles in your chest.

As the game continued, your focus was shot, scowling as you repeatedly watched the girl fight for his attention. But could you blame the girl for trying? She got it once.

By the time the game ended, you were seething. Rafe had played brilliantly, as he always does, scoring two more goals, leading his team to victory, but everything was tainted.

After the final buzzer, Rafe skated out to the middle of the ice, and the crowd went wild again as they awarded him player of the game, airing that goal again.

Rafe looked up at the screen, watching with a proud smile as the puck sailed into the net. He playfully bumped his buddy with his elbow as he watched his teammates congratulate him. And then his smile falters. His lashes beat a few times; utter confusion like he didn’t live that moment once, his gaze landing directly at you.

There were no words needed. You leaned down, grabbed your coat, heading up the stairs before they could even set the award in his hands.

You caught another girlfriend in the parking lot, so you sent Rafe a quick text telling him you would see him at home. Typically, you’d drive home together, celebrating a win with music and laughter, sometimes stopping for a beer and food. Other times, you wouldn’t even make it out of the private parking garage until the arena lights went dark, the two of you sneaking in a celebratory hookup in the back of his G-Class.

Tonight, you didn’t even wait for him to shower and change. You needed your space—space to stew in your anger without him explaining it away.

Rafe Cameron was on your shit list.

When you got home, you went to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of wine. Your guilt started to creep in as you briefly talked yourself off the ledge. It was harmless… He would never do anything, I know… You’re being irrational… Just let it go…

The TV was playing from earlier when you walked into the living room— ESPN highlights rolling across your screen. And then there it was again… It was like the universe just wanted you to lose your shit.

The camera lingered a second too long on him as he skated toward the bench. The moment you couldn’t get out of your head played on a loop for the entire country to see. You grabbed the remote and rewound it, watching it repeatedly, your anger flaring hotter each time.

How could he? How could he smile at her when I was right there?

Clink.

You sat unmoved, wine in hand, as you heard Rafe's key pull out of the door, the hardware creaking open slowly. “Baby?” Rafe’s voice was soft, hesitant. He knew you well enough to sense the storm brewing even before he saw you.

You stay silent, eyes set on the screen, taking a sip of wine with the highlights paused and ready. Rafe pokes his head around the corner before he steps in the doorway. His big body takes up the frame—settling on wearing his game-day suit instead of his typical post-game sweatpants and sweatshirt, hoping that maybe that would buy him some grace, knowing you can’t keep your hands off him dressed like that.

He walks a little closer—a bouquet in one hand, a bottle of your favorite wine tucked under his big arm, and his other hand clutching your favorite dessert from that restaurant you love. His expression’s contrite; he smiles nervously. This man is hell on the ice… But now, he looks like he might crack under your gaze.

��Hey, pretty girl,” he says softly as he sets down the gifts, sinking onto the couch next to you. “I… I—Uh… I thought I’d bring you these.” You glance at the offerings, your sharp eyes returning to the TV. “Are you mad, princess?” He asks though the answer is crystal clear.

God, he can’t be this fuckin’ dumb.

You lift the remote, press play, and let the clip roll in silence. His eyes flicker to the screen, and when the moment replays—the goal, the smile, the girl—you have the pleasure of watching it together.

“Baby,” he starts, his tone full of guilt. “I-”

“Don’t,” you snap, cutting him off. “Don’t even start with some excuse about how it didn’t mean anything, Rafe.”

He sighs, running his big hand through his damp hair, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean anything by it, princess. I swear. I was just being polite-”

“Polite?” You scoff, finally turning to face him with a manic smile. “You smiled at her like she was the only person in the arena, Rafe. Polite… Really?”

“You’re the only person I care about, baby. The only one I look for is you. I swear.”

“Really?” You pick up the remote and rewind the clip. “Because this tells a different story.”

“Come on, princess,” he pleads as he leans closer. “It was nothin’. I couldn’t pick her out of a line-up. Aight? I don’t even remember doing it. I was just-”

“You might not remember it, but I do. And so does every person watching this on TV who knows you have a girlfriend,” you snap, cutting right through his apology.

Rafe rests his elbow on his knees, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sighs, his voice breaking slightly. “I wasn’t thinkin’ about anything. I didn’t mean to upset you, honey. You know you’re my girl.”

“Yeah… Well, from the looks of it, I’m the only one who knows that.”

”Jesus, baby,” he laughs weakly, not earning any headway—his efforts seemingly making everything worse.

He drops to his knees in front of you, resting his big hands on your thighs as he stares up with those impossibly blue eyes, giving you a look that always makes you melt. “I’m so, so sorry… You’re everything to me. I don’t give a fuck about her. How could I when I have you? Please, baby. Nobody compares to you…” You roll your eyes, flicking your gaze away, sucking your teeth as you feel him melting away your icy exterior.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, princess,” he says, his voice earnest. “Look at me… Please, don’t stay mad at me. I messed up, but it didn’t mean anything. Couldn’t even tell you what I was thinkin’ about at the time but it definitely had nothin’ to do with her.” You return your eyes to him, lips pressed in two thin lines.

He inches in, trying to eliminate the space between the two of you, knowing that if he kisses you, he might win you over. You stop him, pressing your hand against his forehead.

“No.”

“No?” He pouts.

“You’re not kissing me for a very long time.”

Rafe collapses on your thighs, burying his head in your lap. “Please,” he mumbles, muffled against your leg. The corners of your lips curl slightly as you try your best to fight back your smile, but the thought of Rafe like this—the big, strong hockey star on his knees begging for forgiveness—made your resolve waver. “Yeah?” He asks hopefully as he peeks up at you, catching the slight smile.

“I’m not done being mad, Rafe,” you say coolly, looking down at him from the corner of your eye.

“Take your time, pretty,” he sighs deeply as his hands slide lower down your caves, his chin resting on your knees as he looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. “M’so sorry,” he whispers, his voice muffled. “I love you more than anything, baby. Anything… Let me make it up to you.”

You let the silence between the two of you stretch, savoring his sweet words for a moment. The TV plays on, filling the silence. You look at the screen, eyeing a Seasons Greetings message, and scroll across. “Oh, thank god,” Rafe huffs tiredly as he looks over his shoulder, watching with you as the other captain stumbles over his words on national television.

Rafe appears on the screen, fixing his collar nervously as he looks at the camera.

“Well, I’m lookin’ forward to spending this Christmas with my girlfriend. She makes everything better, you know?”

He pauses and smiles as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so… I can’t wait to just be with her. That’s all I need for Christmas, honestly.”

Rafe flashes a sweet smile at the camera, and you feel your heart flutter as they put a picture of the two of you up on the screen from the last game, his arm wrapped around your waist as he kisses your cheek. The camera switches back to him as he gives a little wave, wishing the fans a Merry Christmas, before it cuts to his other teammate.

Rafe turns his head slightly, looking at you nervously. You cover your lips with your hand, hiding a smile. “Baby?” He asks timidly.

“You’re mine, Rafe,” you say softly, leaving no room for argument.

“Always,” he assures as he hesitantly moves closer, claiming your lips for a tender kiss. He cups your cheek in his big hands, his perfect smile spreading along your lips. “Always yours, princess.” Rafe pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Forgive me?” He asks, his voice tentative.

“That was very sweet, baby,” you whisper.

He grabs for you, pulling you to straddle his lap. Rafe wraps his big arms around your waist, burying himself in your neck and holding you tight. “How sweet?” He asks, earning a giggle as his voice lowers. Rafe peels your jean jacket off your shoulders, kissing your shoulder, then your neck, working his way up to your ear.

“Sweet enough to get you out of the dog house,” you quip.

You rest your hands on his big chest, and he stretches his arms, draping them across the back of the couch, looking at you on top of him. Rafe tilts his head casually, but there’s nothing casual about his gaze as he looks back at you. “You know,” he starts hesitantly, unsure if he should continue the thought. The last thing he wants to do is get back on your bad side again. “You’re kinda scary when you’re mad, princess. Sexy as hell, but… Damn, you scare the shit outta me sometimes,” he sighs. “… I fuckin’ love it.”

You giggle and roll your eyes as you pinch the buttons of his shirt between your fingers, popping them open one by one. “I scare you?” You act surprised, but you know it’s true.

“Mhmm, you’re the only person I’m scared of.”

You raise your eyebrow as you draw his shirt open, letting your long nails run down his chest, making goosebumps spread across his tanned, toned skin. “I can tell,” you whisper.

“That’s fair…” He hums as sees your smile. “I’m scared of screwin’ this up—scared of losin’ you. I can’t even think about that shit.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” you say, your voice steady but gentle.

“Yeah, but I do,” he murmurs as he shifts closer, the air between you thick. “Let me thank you properly, princess?”

“I don’t know,” you chuckle breathily.

“C’mon, you want me too,” he smiles. “I can tell…” You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, leaving you in your lace bra. Rafe licks his lips, looking at your body hungrily, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in. “Please, baby,” he almost whines. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you all night… You know how I get after a win, sweetheart,” he mumbles as his big hands rest on your hips. “Had no idea you were mad at me, honey. M’so fuckin’ dumb. I’m so stupid,” he rambles as he reaches behind your back, unclasping your bra before tossing it away.

“Hmm…” You tap your chin teasingly. “I don’t know if that’s enough begging, Cameron.”

“You want more?” He chuckles. You bite your lip and nod ‘yes’ back, arching as you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in a little more. “You wanna hear me beg? Fuck. I can go all night, princess…”

“Go on…” You giggle.

“You gotta forgive me… All I was thinking about was takin’ you home,” he tilts in closer, wrapping his lips around your tit, sucking and flicking your nipple as his hand palms the other, releasing you with a pop. “All I was thinkin’ about burying myself in your pussy all night. Pounding you into the mattress. Filling you up. I had no clue you were mad at me… All I was doing was sitting on the bench, dreamin’ about all the shit I wanted to do with you.”

“You’re lying,” you sigh as he works on the button and the zipper of your jeans.

He looks up at you, brows furrowed like you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about. “Am not,” he answers simply. “If I’m not thinkin’ about the game, I’m thinking about you. When I look at you from the ice, I’m just hopin’ you’re looking at me… Smilin’ that smile,” he hums as he leans in, pressing his lips against your pulse point. “Can’t help but get a little excited when you get possessive over me, princess. All I want is your attention.” He whispers hot against your skin.

“So you’re an attention whore, Cameron,” you bully as you rest your hand on his rock-hard bulge, pressing against him, palming him, drawing the sweetest moans from his lips.

“M’a fuckin’ slut for your attention, sweetheart,” he drawls. “‘Course I am.”

“You know, Rafe… No one can do it like me,” you breathe as you stroke him over his pants, making his head lull back on the couch.

“I know, baby… Why do you think I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, huh?” He asks. “You got me beggin’… I don’t even recognize myself right now.”

“Pretty pathetic for me, daddy-”

“You have no idea,” he answers before you can finish. You step off the couch, making Rafe’s lust-lidded eyes widen briefly before rolling back, the man quickly tugging his pants off as you lower yourself to your knees, slotting yourself between his muscular thighs. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers as he pulls his boxers down eagerly. You look at his pretty eyes, and your hands trace down his muscular chest, nails circling his long, thick cock, flushed and leaking with precum. He grabs your chin in his hand, lifting your eyes to his. “You hear me, baby? I don’t fuckin’ deserve this… I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper as he leans down, kissing you deeply. Before he can relax, you open your mouth, showing him your tongue. He groans into a deep, sleazy laugh, spitting inside. “So fucking filthy for me, baby.”

Rafe lets out a deep groan as you wrap your fingers around his dick, pumping your fist up and down his length. He breathes with your strokes, the deep ridges of his ab muscles flexing with each glide of your hand.

“I think about you too, Rafe,” you smile as your tongue glides along your bottom lip, mouth-watering as his precum rolls down his fat cock, catching his prominent vein as it slips languidly down the side.

“Yeah?” He hums as his eyes lighten on yours, looking down at you like you're the prettiest thing in the world.

“Mhmm…” You breathe, watching goosebumps fan along his skin before cleaning it up with your tongue.

“Mpfhh, shit,” he huffs as his big fingers curl into a fist on the back of the couch. “What—uh… What do you think about, princess?” He asks as you start to stroke him quickly, licking and swirling your tongue on his tip, your breast bouncing with each pump, distracting him further.

“This,” you answer simply, half-hiding your smirk with the swollen head of his cock before starting again. That visual made his lashes flutter, holding back his pleasure already. “All I think about is sucking you off, bouncing on your dick…”

“So-So… Fuck, that’s good,” he groans as you wrap your lips around his tip, bobbing up and down on his big cock. “You, baby. Only you. Alright?”

“Mhmm…” You hum around his cock. Rafe’s toes curl at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him. He grabs the back of the couch, clawing into it with his blunt nails while his other hand rests on the back of your head. He doesn’t even guide your strokes, not wanting to ruin your perfect rhythm.

“Swallow it, baby? M’Gonna cum, Fuck. I’m gonna cum in that perfect mouth,” he pants as his thick thigh shakes uncontrollably.

Rafe throws back his head, painting the back of your throat white as he cums long and hard. His cock throbs on your tongue, shit tip kissing the back of your mouth as you take it all.

“Goddamn,” he groans as his body relaxes on the sofa.

You glide yourself off his cock, lips glistening when Rafe pushes his mouth against yours, making you gasp into your kiss as he lifts you into his strong arms, taking you off your feet, walking with you to your bedroom.

He pants between kisses, the man unable to even catch his breath yet. “No one— Fuck, no one does it like you, baby,” he mumbles with a whiny rasp that runs straight through you.

“Yeah?” You ask as you pull away, leaving him chasing your lips. You nuzzle your nose against his. Rafe smiles blissfully, throwing the bedroom door shut behind you.

“I’m gonna make sure you know just how much you mean to me, baby,” he murmurs. “And how much I love you,” Rafe hums, emphasizing each word with a hungry kiss before tossing you down on your plush mattress, mounting you fast.

He grabs your jeans, yanking them down your thighs before tossing them to the side. His lips press against your hot skin, kissing along your hips as your back arches off the bed.

“I am going to worship this body, princess… Every single fuckin’ inch.” Rafe moves even lower, face to face with your dripping cunt still dressed in lace, your panties an absolute mess after sucking him off. "I want you to cum on me, pretty," he says, voice sweet like honey as he looks up at you from between your thighs. “One my dick, on my fingers, on my tongue.”

You glide your fingers through his damp fringe, smiling at him as he kisses along your inner thighs. Rafe breathes in your scent before pressing a kiss against your clothed pussy, making you whimper.

“Fuckin’ love the taste of you,” he sighs. Rafe works off your panties fast, needing more; his hot breath hits you first, his tongue quickly reaching your sex just to slow his pace, lapping up your arousal.

He hums into your core, sending goosebumps flaring across your skin. You grind against his face, moaning as your aching clit bumps against his nose. You gasp as Rafe shoves two thick fingers inside, pumping in fast. He curls them, making you cry out in pleasure, throwing your head back on the pillow in bliss as he strokes your sweet spot again and again.

“My pretty girl’s gonna cum, aren’t you?” He asks as he pulls his mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck, Rafe. Make me cum,” you plead.

“Cum for me, baby…”

You scream out his name, cumming around his skilled fingers as he continues to suck and stroke you through your release.

“Such a good girl for me,” he pants as he kisses your clit, making your thighs jolt with overstimulation as you reach for a breath. Rafe traces your slick folds with a featherlight touch, swirling his tongue around your dripping hole before plunging into your entrance, not wanting to miss a drop, making your fingers scratch into his hair, tugging at his strands.

“Mmm…” You hum as your hands slink up your body, grabbing your tits as you writhe in the aftershock of your orgasm.

Rafe rises on his knees. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, looking down at you like you are an angel on earth.

You snapped back to reality, plump lip tucking between your teeth as you felt his fat tip press between your slick folds. He flicks his velvety head against your clit, watching your muscles jump, your thighs drawing together, making him smirk devilishly at your sensitivity.

“I need your pussy, princess…” He hums as he grabs your legs, spreading you wide before pushing them into the mattress.

“I need your dick, baby,” you whirr, and he buries himself inside you, long and slow, reaching deep into your core, filling you so full you go for a breath. You press it out slowly as he bottoms you out—Rafe’s big hands reaching up to grab your fleshy hips tight.

Rafe fucks into your slow at first, his eyes still trained on your body, watching your curves bounce with each thrust. Your pussy pulls him in with each stroke, filthy wet sucking sounds filling your ears and his as your slickness soaks him—essence rolling down his heavy balls onto the comforter below.

His movements become more possessive and forceful, rutting into you with urgency. His words no longer do him justice; Rafe wanted you to feel them, too. He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

You grab for him, cursing under your breath as your pleasure mounts, feeling yourself about to come undone for him again. “Do it… Come on, baby. Give me another one, Yeah?” He mumbles, his deep fucked-out voice barely heard over the clapping of your skin against his.

Rafe buries himself into you, throwing his hips into you again and again as his name leaves your lips in a strangled moan. “Keep cummin’, princess. Keep creamin’ all over me. Fuckk,” he groans as his fingers find yours.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you barely push out the words, your boyfriend pounding you into the mattress just like he promised he would, and you swear you down, thinking you can’t take anymore as stars start to dance in your eyes.

Rafe lifts your hands above your head, fingers intertwined, pumping into you as his lips meet yours.

Your heart bangs against Rafe’s, his muscular chest flush with yours, gold chain clinging to your hot, sweaty skin.

“I’m so close, baby… I know you can cum again. Alright?” He pants against your lips as his cock rocks in and rocks out, filling you deliciously each time. He drops one hand, nudging his fingers against your clit, making you whimper into his open mouth.

“Just like that…” You breathe.

“Yeah? That’s what you needed, pretty girl, huh? Fuck…” His words get swallowed up in a moan as he fills you with his cum, his muscles tightening, fingers working even quicker to push you over the edge with him.

Your hands grip his big biceps, nails clawing into his skin as you cum for a third time, gasping to fill your lungs with air.

Rafe kisses you, grounding your dizzy mind. Your body dissolves in pleasure as he wraps himself in you, holding you close.

“That’s my girl.”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged @ariana2saucyy

[oneforthemunny]

hot blooded |boxer!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie's boxing at underground fight clubs to make money. after a victory match, he meets you at the bar. or the beginning of you and boxer!eddie.

contains: mean reader and mean eddie lol. mainly fluff. eddie munson au. happy one year!

Bloodied knuckles raised in the dim light of the bar, a triumphant yell mixed with a grunting of disappointment of those who bet against him when Eddie’s hand was raised, declared the winner. Henry Harrington fisted a wad of cash into Eddie’s hand; six thousand dollars, enough for the entry fee for the middleweight match at the end of the month. 

Mr. Harrington snickered, clapping Eddie on the back. “Help yourself to anything at the bar, alright? On me tonight, Champ, you earned it.” And for a fleeting moment Eddie pictured busting his nose, knocking the smug man clean onto the concrete of the bar, letting his blood pool at his feet. 

Instead, he shoved on the robe they gave, covered up his sticky, sweat soaked skin, blossoming with bruises and cuts he’d still hadn’t gotten to tend to. Maybe Max would still be up when he got back home, she could patch up the ones he couldn’t reach. 

“Double Blanton’s on the rocks.” Eddie grumbled to the cocktail waitress in front of him, not bothering to meet her gaze as he unwrapped his tape from his knuckles. 

She didn’t move. Electric red nails on her hip, the others drumming against the mahogany of the bar. Eddie lifted his gaze, lids throbbing with dull pain that was just beginning to set in. “What?” 

“You’re bleeding.” Your eyes rolled over his frame, stopping at the cut on his jaw, dripping onto his robe, crimson droplets on the bar. 

“Yeah.” Eddie clicked with annoyance. “No shit. Double Blanton’s-” 

“-You’re bleeding all over my bar.” Your nail jabbed onto the counter, next to the splotches of blood dripping there. 

Eddie blinked, unimpressed, annoyed. “Can you make me my fuckin’ drink or not?” You don’t move, staring at him still, nails still clicking against the counter. 

“For fucksake,” Eddie huffs, teeth gritting, reaching over the edge of the bar to swipe the napkins off from your station. Palm slapping on the counter, wiping up the small spot. “There. Happy? Good? Can I get my fuckin’ drink now?” 

Pushing up from your stance, you swiped the glass from the clean stack, setting it on the counter. Eddie huffed, slumping back in his chair. He should’ve just gone home, he bristled, familiar agitating heat rising in his chest, clenching his fists. 

“Harrington’s tab?” You lifted your gaze to his, yanking the cork out of the bottle by the brass horse. 

Eddie’s steely gaze met yours. “What?” 

“Harrington’s tab?” You repeated, slower, tone teetering on an edge. “You’re on Harrington’s tab, correct?” You huffed, nodding down towards the man at the end of the bar. 

“Yeah.” Eddie grunted. 

You rolled your eyes, a heavy pour of the bourbon you didn’t bother to measure. “The fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s palm slapped the bar, an echoing of a hit that the people next to him scurrying away. “Are you just a bitch for fun or do you have something against me?” 

“You came bleeding all over my bar,” You scoffed, brow raised in a dangerously demanding way. “Don’t bother to ask for a napkin, or even acknowledge me, really. And I’m a bitch?” 

Eddie’s tongue rolled over the front of his teeth, knee bouncing furiously under him. “Sorry, I’m not feeling up to small talk. I just got done gettin’ the shit knocked outta me for six rounds. Did you miss that, sweetheart? Not see all the fuckin’ people in the middle of the room?”

“No, I was a little busy.” You were quick, response rolling off your tongue in a fiery whip of an answer easily. “Busy working.” 

“Yeah? What the fuck do you think I was doin’?” Eddie scoffed. “Holding a fuckin’ tea party for the Sunday Social over there? I was working too.” 

“Working?” You snort, rolling your eyes again. Eddie’s teeth clench. “You call that working?” 

“I got paid.” Eddie hissed. “What would you call it? Since you seem to know everything?” 

“Not enough money in the world to make me do that for them.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Hardly call that working, it’s so demeaning.” 

“Demeaning,” Eddie repeated, rolling his eyes. “I provide entertainment, sweetheart. Same as you do, I’m sure.” He nodded down towards your tiny dress of a uniform. 

“Entertainment? That’s entertaining?” You nodded towards the ring.

“Yeah, it is. Boxing? A lot of people find it entertaining. Thought you would know that.” Eddie snapped, viscous, defensive. 

“Watching two grown men beat the shit out of each other, so these other grown men can bet on you like horses?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a sneer. “No, can’t say that’s very entertaining to me.” 

“So why are you here then, huh?” Eddie scoffed, jaw clenching in irritation. “Just here for your wonderful personality?” 

Your lips twitched, the fainting of a smile, surprising Eddie. “Something like that.” Your lips rolled, twisting back to their resting snarl. “Here for the same reason you are, I guess.” You set the glass on a black napkin, sliding it over to Eddie. 

“Yeah, why’s that?” 

You cut your eyes towards Mr. Harrington, loudly talking and howling in laughter at the other end of the bar. “Money’s good. Right?” Your eyes squint, nearly in challenge.

 “Let me know if you need anything else.” You purred, throwing a wink in his direction. Eddie’s head was spinning, and not only from all the punches he’d taken. 

He blamed it on his spinning head clouding his thoughts when he waved you over again, ordered another. And another. And a final one. When his head was swimming, mind a little clouded, nerves a lot calmer, he called you over again. 

“Another?” Your brow raised, snagging his empty glass off the counter. 

“No.” Eddie shook his head, the ache in his knuckles starting to set in. “What if it wasn’t here that I was fighting?” 

“What?” You scoffed. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said it was demeaning in here.” Eddie’s finger jabbed the counter for emphasis. “What if it wasn’t here?” 

You squinted at him, lips pulling in a line that had his heart skipping. “Are you drunk?” Your voice fell flat, unamused. “Do you need me to call you a ride home-” 

“-If it was at a real place.” Eddie continued, eyes never leaving yours, an intensity in them that started and intrigued you. “A real match at a real rink with real people. Nobody betting, just two guys fighting for a title. Would it be demeaning then?” 

You paused, watching him carefully, studying him nearly. “I guess not.” You answered cooly, level and calmly. 

“So you’d watch that then?” 

“What?” You snarled. “Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone, or-” 

“-Would you come watch me fight if it was at a real place?” Eddie asked, eyes narrowed in the same way they were before, burning you right to your very core. “In Bloomington in a few weeks.” 

Your fingers pressed into your hip, willing yourself to stay composed, not falter though your heart skipped at his ask. “Maybe.” You sighed sharply. “I still don’t get the whole beating each other for fun thing-” 

“-You don’t have to.” Eddie rolled his eyes, lighter this time, more playful. “Thanks for the drink.” Eddie pushed his chair back, groaning lowly when he pulled himself out of the bar stool, body stiff and tight. “Sorry for bleeding all over your bar.” 

You bit back a smile, fighting the way your lips twitched, tracking him with your eyes. “No problem, Champ.” You quipped, eyes flashing in a daring way that had Eddie smirking, shaking his head. 

“See you around.” Eddie waved, one last look over his shoulder that had you burning, turning to empty his glass, hoping to hide your fluster. 

You were shocked the next day when two tickets in an envelope were waiting for you in the office, Mr. Harrington’s exaggerated tone about how much Eddie liked you. And he must have, you decided, looking at the small note that had his phone number scribbled at the bottom. 

Eddie never heard back from you, let it slip his mind in the next weeks of training. Of course you hadn’t come, why would you have? You made your opinions abundantly clear to him that night. 

Still, he was shocked to see you, in the sea of the crowd, sitting in the row by his corner, arms wrapped around your torso, looking a little more than unsure. You even waved at him, small and shy, and Eddie was sure his cheeks were going to split with how wide he smiled. 

He invited you back to his locker room after he won, a victory Camel hanging from his busted lip, torso still covered in a sheen of sweat. You had no issues this time when the blood from his busted lip dripped on your sneakers, when it smeared over your own lips when he kissed you, pressed against the cement walls, bruised knuckles and fingers in your hair. 

[arroganceisherfavoritecolor]

Dead Man Walking

✧˚ · . y/n plays doctor with Donnie after he gets jumped...

warnings: violence, mentions of blood, fluff

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Donnie laid on the cold hard ground. The moonlight shone down on him. The cold autumn breeze was stuck in his throat, sending chills down his spine. His chest heaved up and down, trying to catch the breath he got knocked out of him. Seth and Ricky were long gone by now, speeding off in their car.

It was around 10:00 PM. Donnie was just trying to have a normal night, get some fresh air by going on a walk. Yet here came Seth and Ricky, pulling up beside him in their trashed car. They jumped out of the vehicle, grabbing Donnie by the neck. They shoved him to the ground, beating him instantly. They punched his face, kicked his ribs, and stomped his chest. Donnie was no weakling, so he of course tried fighting back. Unfortunately, when theres two meat heads jumping you, its kind of hard to use some self defense. They beat him for what felt like hours, but was probably closer to 10 minutes. After they beat Donnie to a pulp, Seth and Ricky got in their car and drove off.

He rolled on his side, pain surging through his body. The first thing that popped into Donnie's mind was Y/n. He wanted her, he needed her. He picked himself up off of the ground, stumbling a bit. He limped down the road on the way to Y/ns house. Thankfully, Donnie and Y/n lived in the same neighborhood, meaning he didn't have to walk very far from where he was.

After a few minutes, Donnie finally arrived at his girlfriends house. He knocked on the door. He saw Y/n peek through the blinds, swinging the door open as soon as she noticed it was him. Her mouth fell open at the horrid sight before her. Donnie was covered in dirt and blood. His eyebrow was busted, a small cut dripped with blood. His left eye was already bruised and swollen. His nose and mouth were bloody, and maybe even a little crooked. He had numerous cuts and scrapes all over him, from his face to his arms. "D..Donnie? Baby what happened?" Y/n asked frantically. Donnie walked towards her, embracing her. She held Donnie, feeling his blood drip onto her t-shirt. Suddenly, he fell to his knees, dragging Y/n down. "Seth..Ricky...they..beat me." Donnie looked at the ground, ashamed of himself. Y/n picked him up by the shoulders, carrying him into her house.

Donnie sat on the toilet seat, Y/n in front of him. She cleaned his cuts and iced his bruises. There was a small first aid kit resting on the bathroom counter and a bowl of ice cubes beside it. Y/n held a bottle of rubbing alcohol in her hand. Donnie sucked his teeth, feeling the burning sensation of the alcohol being pressed onto his cut. "I know, my love. Im sorry, just this one more and we'll be done." Y/n was gently fixing him up, her soft hands grazing his face. Although Donnie was in immense pain, it felt nice being babied. Y/n put a bandaid over one of his numerous cuts, finally finished to the best of her abilities. "There. All better." Donnie stood up and looked in the mirror. His eye was still black and swollen, but he definitely looked and felt better than before. Y/n snaked her arms around Donnie, hugging him from behind. He winced in pain, pressure being put on the cuts and bruises around his torso. Y/n lifted up his shirt, exposing nasty wounds from the beating. She looked up at Donnie sympathetically. "Those pricks are gonna pay for this. Tomorrow we gotta tell the principal-" "No, Y/n. We cant. Why would we, so they can kick my ass again? Kill me this time?" Donnie cut Y/n off. His eyes had that crazy look in them, the one that she knew all too well. Y/n backed off, understanding that he was just frustrated. Donnies expression softened, feeling bad for snapping at his girlfriend. "Im sorry baby. Its just...I don't want you to think i'm weak. Like i cant protect you." Donnie felt like a pussy. Emasculated. Y/n cupped his cheek, looking deep into his blue puppy eyes. "I know you're not weak, Don." Y/n pressed a kiss to his lips, still swollen. Donnie put his hand over hers, smiling.

The pair laid on Y/ns couch. Y/n didnt even care about her parents catching Donnie in their house at this late hour. All she was worried about was her baby. Donnie recounted the events that had just happened as Y/n ran her fingers through his hair. They didn't speak about what was gonna happen next, what was gonna happen tomorrow at school. They simply relished in eachothers presence. After a few moments of silence, Y/n looked down at her chest to see that Donnie had fallen asleep. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, snuggling him.

She was gonna make those pieces of shit's lives a living fucking nightmare.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

(wow dis was a random idea lol i thought it was a cute lil concept tho. pt 2 of girl next door will be out on friday :3)

[ambros1an]

firefly x gn reader 18+

warnings: SPOILERS FOR 2.1, eating out, face sitting, dom firefly, he/she/they pronouns for firefly, firefly has 🐱and d (in other form), firefly written as nonbinary, penetration, the suit stays ON, nothing hardcore

summary: gentle dom(ish)! firefly. that’s it. that’s the post

a/n: i wrote this for the people the love firefly in her completeness and not just one aspect or the other. i know y’all are out there. also never written nsfw and wanted to do it semi-realistically (lol)

the way firefly has everyone fooled. most that manage to see her despite her entropy disorder think of her as a kind and compliant girl. someone unfortunate. rarely anyone gets to see her true self, as someone who takes.

her plush thighs grip your head, holding it in place. her panties thrown off in the corner, but not fully undressed. her skirt conceals your face, holding u into her.

“a-ahh” they say your name, “please…”

you swirl your tongue around her clit, giving it kisses when she grinds into u.

“a-aha, sorry,” she apologizes.

you hum into her as acknowledgment. don’t stop

she bounces on your face, grinding against your tongue and your nose to hit that spot just right. She’s just so close- she can feel it. Firefly grips onto your hair in an effort to bring you somehow closer.

your hands clasp around her waist in return. their cunt starts to twitch around your tongue and the grinding gets harder.

“hhah-ah, im so close-“

she throws her head back in a moan. coming because of you, because of your tongue. its all just too much. if only you could see it.

has she ever been cared for like this?

with shaky legs she removes herself from your face and places herself down next to you.

“i want to..help you too” she looks down then back up at you.

obviously it was a yes.

she rolls in between your legs. this time he was Sam, not firefly. but with you, maybe they could be both.

the mecha suit encased her body, and with it was an “attachment.” sam’s cock stood upright. it gleamed with their signature green and blue decals.

he oiled a bottle of lube onto his fingers before inserting them. he didn’t want to hurt you. not again. his two fingers pumped in and out, leaving a full feeling that wasn’t unpleasant but welcome.

your light moans and grunts egged him on, inserting a 3rd finger.

“sam..”

they look up at you, “I know. I’m almost done,” he said lightly, you could hear a smile in her tone.

she removed her fingers from you, slick coating them. she held up the bottle of lube preparing to put it on her cock but you were faster.

“let me” you say, sitting up and plucking it from his hands. sam looks at you with a startled expression. he watches you coat your hand in the liquid then-

“oh-“

you’re touching him. you rub up and down his cock. one hand caressing the tip and the other the base.

“sensitive here?” you smirk, leaning down and placing your mouth onto his tip. he answers you with a shaky moan. not that you needed to ask anyway.

you kiss and lick at the tip, then open your mouth to go down further, humming around the shaft. that is until Sam grips your hair and plucks you off.

“sorry- not now. i wanted to do something for you. please, turn around,” the way he says it, makes it clear he’s out of breath.

you roll over onto your back, looking up at the hulking mecha on top of you. he rubs up and down his shaft, before inserting himself inside you. he moans, the heat surrounding him is enough to make him bust already.

as for you, its a tight fit. you hiss between your teeth. but the fullness feels so good. when sam starts thrusting, even more so.

to any other person, sam staring down at you would be a death sentence, but not to you. you can tell from the way he looks at you, that she really wants to kiss you. the warmth spreads across your stomach.

“ah-haha” he moans your name. “I really do love-“ he whimpers, caressing your hair, “care for you.” the warmth you feel from their emotions, combined with the pleasure, makes you come undone.

“f-firefly!”

you twitch around his cock, and it throbs against you too. the robot releases into you, the sensation is warm. and with it the mecha releases firefly from his suit, and she collapses onto you.

“its way too hot in there,” she moans.

you can’t help but giggle. you still cant believe they’re the same person.

[urhoneycombwitch]

you oughta know: part I

Spring Break

series masterlist

foreword: since Eddie Munson is our collective Ken doll to dress up as we please I present to you my new and improved: dirtbag!college!Eddie. now with 50% more tattoos and a splash of 90s grunge college academia aesthetic.

cw: drinking, intoxication, R has breasts, R and Eddie are slut4slut in this

___

The bass on this houseparty’s stereo pumps through the floorboards, rattling every wall of the building. Hiding out in the less-stimulating kitchen seems like a good option for tonight.

Apparently, this other guy thinks so, too, ‘cuz soon it’s just you and him across the counter from another. He’s handsome, actually. Moonlight from a window above the sink highlights strong cheekbones and a sharp cupid’s bow as he helps himself to a glass from the cupboard.

Slinking out from elbow-rolled shirtsleeves are thick, dark vine tattoos; they wind around his forearms, smattered with hair and freckles, the ink trailing to end at his wrists.

You lean forward onto the counter separating you two (well aware that you’re spilling out of your top), then tip the neck of your beer bottle at him- “Eddie?”

He spins to face you, raises a pretty brow, long lashes sweeping over auburn eyes- “Uh- maybe? Who wants to know, dollface.”

A scrunch of distaste with your nose at the nickname, you barrel through the discomfort- “Oh, I thought it might be you. I’m Robin’s roommate. She said her weed guy had cool tattoos.”

The guy’s face lights up with a lopsided smile, dimples peeking out as he preens, “So you think they’re cool?”

You roll your eyes, take an unamused sip of beer, press a bit further into your hands on the counter. A little thrill at your small victory- his eyes flicking down once, twice, to your cleavage- you ride the alcohol-gifted looseness and adrenaline. “Psst. Hey. My eyes are up here, perv.”

It’s a tease. A goad masked as chiding. Eddie sets his glass of water down, doe eyes fixed on yours, not falling for the trap of your quick inhale- “You seriously sayin’ that to me, when you’re the one with your tits out?”

He tsks, walks those big boots over, leanin’ in to your counter space, close enough to smell the spice of his cologne- “Would almost think you like the attention.”

You swallow hard. Hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, bust still on display- “Yeah, and you’d probably like to be the one to give it to me. In your dreams, pal.”

It’s getting harder to play hard-to-get as Eddie bumps his hip against yours. The whites of his eyes are slightly bloodshot (you can smell the heady undercurrent of weed wafting from his clothes), while the black of his pupils are already blown out with feverish lust. “C’mon, have a heart, angel. Can’t fault a boy for dreamin’.”

And goddammit if you don’t melt for that line. (He really is a rather great lyricist, as you’ll come to find out this upcoming semester.)

In retrospect, you’ll never admit it, but you did make the first move- pressed him right up against Linda Satler’s kitchen counter and kissed him, with tongue. Robin walked in on the two of you and got in a full shriek before either of you realized someone else had come in, jumping apart like two children caught arms-deep in a cookie jar.

“God, gross,” she gags, louder than the wave of sound flooding in from the open door. She crosses the room in a few swift strides and plucks at your elbow, a reproachful whisper- “I sent you to get weed, not to make out with the dealer!”

“I am getting weed, Robin,” you insist, patient but firm, pulling from her grasp to turn back to Eddie, teeth worrying at your bottom lip that shimmers with mixed saliva as you ask, sweet and simply- “Can I please have some weed?”

It wasn’t actually your plan to butter Eddie up for a better price (another fact you’d remain stoically opposed to, later), but he gave it to you, all the same- a laughably low amount for a bundle of pre-rolls.

Robin’s eyes bug out at the amount he hands it over- then she smoothly pockets the goods and pats you on the shoulder. “Okay. My mistake. I actually love that you’re both getting acquainted in this manner. You have my blessing to do it a bunch more, just- not when I’m in the room. M’kay?”

She grins cheekily at Eddie before looping her arm in yours, pulling you with her towards the door- you call out before it closes behind you both, “Robin’s number is our landline! You can call me there, if you want!”

Eddie stands still for a few moments after you’re swallowed up by the noise of the party, palm flat to the twinge in his chest. Cupid’s arrow, he can feel it sinking in.

He’s an RA, this semester. Really can’t afford to be seeing cute girls and selling them weed- at least, not at the same time. Gotta straighten up a bit over Spring Break, he thinks.

Then he cracks the window open. Lights up a joint. Smokes out into the fresh night air and tries really hard to think of anything other than your tits. (A game of mostly losses.)

[wakandas-vibranium]

Double ‘Taine || Part One

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, use of the n word, aave use etc.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: This is going to be a fun lil series! Not sure how many chapters just yet, but I hope y’all enjoy the story. Please comment, like, and reblog! :)

It was a gorgeous Memphis night. The weather was perfect and your life was going pretty well. You didn't have too many complaints. The aroma of apples and pumpkin always wafted through the air of your apartment around this time of year. Mrs. Towner, who lives two units down the hall from you, was always the culprit. Her grandson lived with her and loved baked goods and Halloween. You couldn't blame him; Halloween was one of your favorite holidays too, and it was only four weeks away. It was simply something about the smell of pumpkin and the crunch of fallen leaves under your boots that made your heart warm and made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You were currently in your luxury apartment, venturing back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table for four. While you were busy setting up the apartment for your guests, your boyfriend, Fontaine, was out picking up dinner. You usually cooked, but Slick suggested earlier this week that he was craving Indian food, and you hadn't had it in a long time, so you ordered it and sent Fontaine to pick it up from the best spot downtown. Thursdays turned into dinner dates with Yo-Yo and Slick Charles. 

You met Yo-Yo about four years ago. She strutted straight into your law firm, carrying the brightest smile and one of the sharpest minds you'd ever seen. You two hit it off right away. You supported her with everything she needed, and she is now a paralegal with your firm.

About six months in, she finally introduced you to her eccentric boyfriend, Slick Charles, who never failed to make you bust out laughing, and her other roommate, Fontaine, who you instantly took a fancy to. Your firm had become quite busy, and Yo-Yo stressed to you that Fontaine was going through a difficult time, so it took another half a year before the two of you started dating. Now you were in the best relationship you'd ever been in, and you couldn't be happier. 

Sure, Fontaine kept a lot of things bottled up, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to talk about them, but you wouldn't trade him for anything. You loved that man. 

Actually, you had the impression that all three of them were hiding some information from you. You didn't know much about their past because they didn't tell you much. They told you that they had moved to Memphis from the Glen and that they had no plans of returning home. That was pretty much it. 

You had an inkling there was a lot more to the story, but you never pushed that button.  If they wanted you to know, you would know. 

As soon as you had the apartment set up to your liking, you poured yourself a glass of Stella Rosa's Moscato D’Asti and relaxed on the couch, waiting for your beloved to return. 

The door knob was twisted twice before there was a heavy knock on the door. You hurriedly downed the rest of your wine and dashed over to the entrance, figuring Fontaine could use help opening the door since he had the food in his hands. 

“Hey baby,” you greeted as you opened the door and saw that he didn’t have the food, but instead two large bags and a backpack. “Did you forget your keys?”

He didn't answer you; instead, he gave you a pointed look and strolled into the apartment. You scratched your forehead because you didn't know what the fuck was going on. You could've sworn he left 20 minutes ago with different clothes on….and why didn't he have the food?

He lingered in the living room, glancing around the apartment as if it were his first time seeing it. You shut the door and took timid steps toward him. Your eyes widened as you tried, but failed, not to gawk at him. When did he have time to change? 

After what appeared to be him assessing the room, his gaze finally settled on you, and he looked you up and down.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

You scoffed as you threw up your hands,“You were supposed to go get the food…”

“…Oh…” he said, tone revealing that he didn’t give a single fuck about dinner. 

“Yeah, oh,” you rolled your eyes at him and he just shrugged his shoulders at you.

What the fuck was his problem?

He stood there with his back against the wall. In a defensive position. As if he knew shit was about to hit the fan. Bags still in his hands, and an orange backpack still on his back.

“Fontaine, is everything alright?” you asked, taking a cautious step towards him. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

He gave you another pointed look and you raised your hands. 

“It’s just…you’re acting weird and you look pissed the fuck off right now, babe. Please tell me what’s going on?”

He uncrossed his arms and started to speak, but the jingle of keys and the opening of the front door stopped you both in your tracks.

In walked Fontaine with dinner in his hands.

WHAT IN THE ENTIRE FUCK?

Fontaine took one look at the both of you before slamming the door shut and fixing you with a chilling look.

“Baby, back away from him.”

“Man, I ain’t gon’ hurt her.” Fontaine number two huffed, rolling his eyes at Fontaine number one. 

You took a cautious step back anyway. The tone of your boyfriend’s voice was more than enough to have you on edge.

Your boyfriend placed the food on the dining room table and shoved you behind him as he faced the other Fontaine.

Or at least that’s who he looked like…

Who was this guy? And why did he look just like your man? You thought you were seeing double. 

The apartment was deafeningly silent. Those two didn't utter a single word as they sized each other up.

Those two may have been comfortable standing there in silence, but you weren't. You wanted to know just what in the fuck was going on.

“Umm,” you blurted, breaking the silence, “I thought you said your brother was dead? And that he was younger than you?” 

You thought that maybe the other man was his twin or something. Obviously they had to be related. 

“He is,” your boyfriend replied, taking his eyes off of the other man for a brief moment to glance back at you. 

“Then who the fuck is this?” you pressed, gesturing wildly at the Fontaine lookalike. 

“Nobody.”

“Nigga, I’m you,” Fontaine number two said. 

“I ain’t tryna hear that.”

“Well, you gon’ hear it tonight, nigga.”

They went back and forth with each other, bickering for what felt like an eternity until you couldn't take it anymore.

“Fontaine!” 

They both turned to look at you.

“Somebody better open they fuckin’ mouth right now and start explainin’ before I start swingin!!” you threatened. 

While your boyfriend heaved a sigh of aggravation, the Fontaine lookalike smirked at you with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Where that nigga Slick at?” The lookalike asked, ignoring you. 

“You came all the way to Memphis for Slick?” Fontaine questioned, tone heavy with irritation. 

“That nigga knocked me out and duck taped me to a fuckin’ chair!”

What the fuck? Why would Slick do something like that? 

“Yeah, for a reason.”

And your boyfriend knew about this shit all along? What else was he keeping from you? 

“I got somethin’ for his ass!”

“Wait a minute—why would Slick tape you to a chair?” you asked the lookalike, taking a step closer to him. 

“Ask yo boyfriend,” he quipped. 

“I will, but first tell me who you are,” you demanded, staring him right in his face. His hair, his deep brown eyes, the golds in his mouth was all too familiar. This man was the spitting image of your boyfriend.  

But how? 

“I’m Fontaine,” he finally said, looking you in the eyes, silently daring you to disagree with him.

“That’s impossible,” you chuckled nervously as you backed away from him because clearly he was out of his mind, “There can’t be two Fontaines.” 

“Baby,” your boyfriend sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He’s tellin’ the truth.” 

“We’re both clones,” the lookalike admitted. 

Your boyfriend's shoulders stiffened so much that you worried they'd become stuck.

You were about to accuse them both of fucking with you, but the pained look on their faces was enough to convince you that they were being serious.

You plopped down on the couch, head in your hands, trying to make sense of what was being said, but your chest felt tight and you couldn't quite catch your breath.

So…clones were real. 

Your boyfriend was a clone and your boyfriend also had a clone. 

So there were two Fontaines. 

Were there more than two Fontaines?

Who did this to them?

With each passing second, a new question flooded your thoughts.

What happened to the original Fontaine?

Who else was the government cloning?

What other states and cities were they operating from?

Was Fontaine safe?

Were you safe?

Shit really hit the fan once Yo-Yo and Slick arrived. 

You had to confiscate Fontaine number two's gun after he pulled it out on Slick twice. Then you had to hold him back because he charged the retired pimp with such ferocity. Your boyfriend definitely had his temperamental ways, but this Fontaine was a bit more volatile.

Thankfully, Yo-Yo was there because Fontaine number one and Slick Charles were useless. They didn’t even try to help diffuse the situation. 

After a half-hour of squabbling, everyone calmed down and sat down to eat dinner.

“So, y’all niggas couldn’t have included me on the plan?” Fontaine number two asked the others at the table. 

You sat between both Fontaines, gulping your wine as you willed yourself not to freak out anymore than necessary. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sat across from you.

“Hell no! We ain’t have time to break it down for your hotheaded ass,” Slick Charles said. 

Fontaine number two shot Slick Charles with such a hard glare that you worried you'd have to hold him back again.

“Uh, I’mma just eat my samosa before Fontaine number two beats my mothafuckin’ ass,” Slick Charles grumbled before shoving his mouth with more food.

You nodded, “I think that’s a good idea, Slick.” 

“How’d you find us anyway?” Yo-Yo asked.

“Biddy.”

“Biddy?!” The three of them murmured. 

You couldn’t do anything but eat your food and drink your wine as you watched the four of them converse. You felt like a stranger in your own fucking home.

“I gave that pink bitch a hundred bucks and she told me y’all moved to Memphis.” 

You didn’t even bother to ask who Biddy was because you knew you wouldn’t get a straight answer. The rest of the evening went pretty much like that. As the four of them caught up, you tried to make sense of the information at your disposal. You eventually tuned them out because you were becoming irritated.

After a while, Fontaine number two asked where the bathroom was, and you got up to show him the way.

Surprisingly, he thanked you before closing the bathroom door, and you retreated to the kitchen, searching for more wine. You needed more booze to deal with this fucked-up situation, and unfortunately, the wine you already had just wasn't cutting it. You scoured the refrigerator and cabinets but came up empty. 

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the kitchen island and went over the events of the last hour or so. You still found it difficult to comprehend the gobsmacking fact that the love of your life was a clone.

It all made sense now why your boyfriend was so guarded. Look at all the shit he’s been through. Still, you couldn't help but feel a heavy pang of hurt because the three of them kept this from you. They were the closest people to you. You've grown to love them so much, and they couldn't even bring you into the loop.

You strolled back into the dining room and observed the three of them crowded together, talking in hushed voices.

Slick Charles spotted you approaching and motioned for the other two to stop chatting.

“And just what are y’all over there whisperin’ about?” you asked, raising a curious eyebrow. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing important, baby.” 

“Just discussin’ the weather.” 

The three of them lied through their teeth and went back to eating as if they just weren't having a private conversation. It took all your might not to lash out at them in frustration. At the very least, Yo-Yo looked guilty. You knew she wanted to tell you more, but her loyalty to Fontaine surpassed her loyalty to you.

“Right,” you scoffed at them as you grabbed your purse off the counter. “I’ll be back.” 

“Where you goin’, Y/N?” your boyfriend asked as he stood up. 

“To the liquor store,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Mind if I slide with you?” Fontaine number two asked as he ambled down the hallway. 

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Nah,” Fontaine number one shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, I’m goin’ anyway, nigga.” Fontaine number two retorted as he stood next to you. 

You shot your partner a sidelong glance before turning around and heading outside. Fontaine number two was right behind you.

“Y/N,” Slick Charles called after you. “Bring me back some vodka and orange juice please!” 

Fontaine number two slammed the door shut before you had a chance to respond, and you fought back a chuckle. That dude was obsessed with orange juice.

Together with your boyfriend's carbon copy, you made your way silently to the parking garage.

“Oh shit,” he exclaimed as he watched you open the car door to your silver Genesis. “You drive a G90?!”

“Yes,” you chuckled as he gawked at your car, his brown eyes briefly flashing with childlike admiration. Just like your Fontaine when he first saw it. The man truly did love his cars. It only made sense that his doppelgänger would too. 

“This is a nice ass ride,” he complimented, caressing the car door with his fingers as he walked around the vehicle. 

“You wanna drive?”

“You for real?”

“Yeah, the other you drives it all the time.” 

You tossed him the keys before walking over to the passenger side and hopping in. 

He excitedly clambered into the car, gently closing the door, before cranking up and taking the opportunity to look around.

After marveling at and feeling the smooth cream interior for several seconds, his gaze ultimately settled on you.

You paid close attention to his features. He may have been a clone, but now that you were actually looking at him, you could tell he wasn't your boyfriend.

Your Fontaine always looked at you as if he knew you inside and out, which he did, but this Fontaine solely looked at you as if he wanted to have a chance to get to know you that well. Everything else about the two was remarkably identical. This was a peculiar yet intriguing situation.

You were going to ask him what he was staring at when he blurted, “Y’all fucked in here yet?” 

“Fontaine!” you gasped, whacking his arm in admonishment. 

You couldn't believe he would ask you something like that, but then again, your Fontaine wasn't one to shy away from asking questions. No matter how invasive they were.

“What? I know me, aight? Ain’t no way in hell I’d pass up fuckin’ my fine ass girlfriend in this sweet ass car.” 

The compliment was not lost on you, but you chose not to react to it.

You remained silent, blinking at him in disbelief, until he raised his eyebrows impatiently, still waiting for you to answer.

“Yes, nigga,” you muttered, “we’ve fucked in here before.” 

“How many times?”

“Why do you care?”

He said nothing, just stared at you with an amused expression.

“Four times, damn! Can we go now?”

For a split second, his eyes darkened with a burning desire. He didn't say anything, but it was clear he wanted to be the one to partake in a fifth time.

Under his piercing gaze, you squirmed in your seat. You knew that was a thought you wouldn’t be able to come back from, so you cleared your throat and turned to stare out the window.

You heard him let out a puff of amusement before he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

“What type of shit you do for work?” he asked once y’all were out on the open road and out of the parking garage.

“I’m a lawyer,” you said proudly before pointing to the upcoming street. “Make a left at the next light.” 

“What kind of lawyer?” he questioned as he turned left. 

“Corporate.” 

“Mmm, smart and pretty.” 

And that's pretty much how the trip to and from the liquor store went. You two getting to know each other. Surprisingly, the lookalike was easy to talk to. He reminded you too much of your man. You were going to start getting whiplash. You didn't ask him about his life back in the Glen. You wanted your boyfriend to trust you with that information.

You both walked back into the apartment carrying bags of booze. Fontaine number one, Yo-Yo, and Slick Charles were still conversing at the dinner table.

As a peace offering, Fontaine number two handed Slick Charles his vodka and orange juice. At least he was trying, you thought. 

You five settled on the couch with your drinks and watched the first two Bad Boys flicks. Yo-Yo fell asleep against Slick Charles halfway through the second film.

You were once again seated between your boyfriend and his duplicate. Your feet eventually wound across your man's lap, and he rubbed soothing circles into your ankles.

After twenty minutes, Yo-Yo began to snore, so Slick decided to call it a night, waking her up and helping her to her feet. They were really sweet to each other when they wanted to be. 

"Baby, I'mma walk them out," your boyfriend stated as he pecked your lips before strolling to the front door. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder before shutting the door, leaving you alone with Fontaine number two. 

Your brow furrowed in confusion. He never walked them all the way out. Then it dawned on you that he wanted to have another private conversation with them when you were not around. 

You slumped on the couch, tucking your foot beneath you as you grumbled in frustration.

“Aye, you good?” Fontaine asked as he took his eyes off the tv screen to glance over at you. 

“I’m good,” you lied as you turned to look at him. “You ready for bed?”

“You gon’ let me sleep here?” he asked, surprise clear in his voice. 

“Well, duh Fontaine,” you huffed. “Unless you got some other friends in Memphis that I don’t know about?”

What did he think? That you were going to toss his ass out with nowhere to go?

“I don’t think yo boyfriend gon’ be cool with that.”

“I don’t give a fuck what the other you has to say at the moment,” you sneered, “do you want to stay here or not?” 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” you dismissed.. 

“Can we finish the movie first? This one is my favorite,” he nodded towards the tv.

“Sure.”

Fontaine wandered back into the apartment about fifteen minutes later, scoffing at the two of you laughing on the couch.

“And where is this nigga stayin’, Y/N?” he blurted, attitude rancid as fuck. 

“Here with us,” you said brightly, stating the obvious. The credits began to roll so you grabbed the remote to turn off the tv. 

“Oh, hell nah,” he complained as he rolled his eyes at the both of you. “Why he gotta stay here with us?” 

“Where else is he supposed to stay? With Slick and Yo-Yo?” You folded your arms against your chest, kissing your teeth in annoyance. Fontaine number one and Fontaine number two were going to have to get along sooner or later. This hostility shit between them wasn’t going to fly. 

“He can stay at—“

“—Just let him stay, baby,” you interrupted, throwing up your hands as you stood up from the couch. 

What was the goddamn problem? It made sense that everybody should stick together. Maybe only to you. 

“Aight, fine,” he grunted, stomping off into the kitchen. 

“Dramatic ass nigga,” Fontaine number two mumbled under his breath as he stood up too. 

You shook your head at him in amusement, fighting back a giggle. This situation was so bizarre that you had to take it lightly or else you'd lose your fucking mind. He shrugged at you and scooped up his bags. You motioned for him to follow you into the guest room down the hall.

You helped him with unpacking and began hanging his clothes in the closet. You chuckled to yourself since his wardrobe was identical to your Fontaine's. The two men were obviously quite the same, but there were one or two physical variances that you chose to keep to yourself. 

“Why you bein’ so nice to me?” he blurted, taking a small step towards you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you replied, eyes narrowing as you leaned back against one of the closet doors. 

He took another step towards you, pausing to look you up and down before fixing his gaze on your face.

“I ain’t him, you know?”

But you kind of are, you thought. 

“You think I’m only bein’ nice to you because you share the same face as my boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. 

You sighed deeply and looked out the window, gaze focusing on the shining full moon. "I'm bein’ nice to you because you're a human being who's been through a lot of unfair shit." You turned your attention back to him, eyes locking with his. "I think a little kindness is the least you deserve, don't you?"

He didn't respond, taken aback by your kind words, and after several seconds of stillness, he nodded his head so slowly you'd have missed it if you hadn't already been staring at him.

Of course, this Fontaine had trust issues as well. You couldn’t really blame him. He was keeping it together much better than you would have been in his shoes. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking one last look around the room before smiling softly at him, “anything else you need before I go to bed?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded as he plopped down on the bed, “can I get my gun back?” 

Hmm, you thought. You didn’t see why not. Slick Charles was gone and the situation seemed diffused for the time being. 

As you approached him, you carefully removed the weapon from your waistband, holding it in your palm. 

You held out your hand to him, and he reached out to take it, but you pulled it closer to your chest and said, “As long as you promise to keep it away unless our lives are in danger.” 

“Aight.” he agreed, reaching for the gun again, but you tightened your grip on the steel. 

“I’m serious, Fontaine.” 

He rose slowly, towering over you while peering down into your eyes. You took a much-needed step back since you could hear every breath he took and smell the sweet tang of his cologne.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a sly smirk as you took a step back from him. He cleared his throat and gave you a look, indicating that he was being serious. 

“I promise,” he whispered, reaching for the firearm for a third time and this time you let him take it.  

After ensuring that Fontaine number two was settled in, you closed his bedroom door and shuffled around the apartment, switching off all the lights and checking that the entrance and windows were locked.

You entered the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend and gently closed the door behind you. Fontaine was already in bed, pretending to be sleeping. 

“So, what? You gonna pretend like today ain’t happen?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in annoyance. 

“Y/N,” Fontaine groaned, pulling a pillow over his head to drown out your voice.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me, ‘Taine! We have to discuss this,” you walked over to your dresser and began to undress, pulling a drawer open to grab a set of pajamas. 

“I ain’t in the mood to talk about this shit, aight?” 

“Were you ever goin’ to tell me about all this wild shit that happened to you?”

He tightened his grip on the pillow, pressing it down even further over his head, ignoring you.

You tossed your clothes in the hamper and finished buttoning your pajama blouse before marching over to the bed, flipping back the covers, and snatching the pillow off his head.

“Fontaine!” 

“What?!” he fumed, sitting up as he glared at you wildly. 

“You can’t ignore this! Not this time. Why didn’t you tell me this happened to you?”

“What was a nigga supposed to say?! Hey baby by the way I was made in a fuckin’ tube,” he scoffed then shook his head.

“Wait, so you think me findin’ out about you bein’ a clone would make me love you any less?” you asked, your frustration dissipating as you noticed the petrified look in his deep brown eyes.

“You don’t get it…”

“Then explain it to me,” you urged.

“Nah. I’m goin’ to sleep,” he said, turning his back to you and settling under the covers. 

You weren't sure how much more of this you could take. You were used to Fontaine shutting down amid difficult conversations, which you understood to some degree, but it was becoming painfully obvious to you that he didn't trust you at all. Most likely, he never did. It's unfair to you because you've never given him a reason not to trust you.

What’s a relationship without trust?

You switched off the lamp on your bedside table, let out a deep breath, and slid beneath the covers. It took some time, but Fontaine's soft snores eventually lulled you to sleep.

[wufflesvetinari]

having now gotten to lae’zel’s act 3 romance: holy shit she busts out the most gorgeous lines and I need her in a poetry-off with wyll

maybe it can be a wyllstarion/shadowzel double date. wyll realizes how fucking choice some of lae’s lines are and—in good fun—tells her they need to have a contest, NOT REALIZING that there’s an ancient form of poetry competition in githyanki culture (since they insist they are also better at the arts than everyone else, PLUS the killing). he has accidentally thrown down an ancient gauntlet. now, for his honor, he has to embarrass astarion very much

the rest of camp serve as judges and they do a…poor job of giving this sweet-talking contest beautiful ancient cultural ritual the solemnity it deserves. they’re heckling constantly. gale is critiquing meter. karlach is wolf whistling at every line. shadowheart and astarion do not want to be here

astarion at first puts on a show of enjoying wyll flattering him loudly for an hour in front of literally all of his friends but he. can’t. the lines are all Peak Wyll, he has been compared to twenty-five celestial bodies, its too much even for him. shadowheart is standing in a corner with her hands over her face. they have never been so in synch

for a tiebreaker karlach says now they have to switch and say sweet nothings to each other’s partner, which is. actually not a problem for wyll and his gonzo charisma score (astarion is SO excited to hear him rizz up shadowheart) but it absolutely IS a problem for lae’zel, who is actually fundamentally just speaking from her feral passionate heart whenever she says sweet things to shadowheart and can’t do it on purpose. this is not a game to her, dammit, the point was to demonstrate that her bond with shadowheart is indomitable!!!

lae’zel is like. awkwardly trying to romantically compliment astarion on. anything at all. she says his teeth are “pointy as a row of dependable nails” then suddenly remembers she hates poetry and storms off in an embarrassed rage. wyll realizes the gallant thing to do would be to throw the competition. he does not do this. astarion immediately gets over his embarrassment to gloat about “them” winning

shadowheart meanwhile is just like “oh thank gods” and grabs a cheese wheel and a bottle of wine to have a quiet picnic with lae’zel somewhere like the gods intended. she WILL tease her for losing but only after lae’zel has said fifteen new extremely fucking romantic things to her in private and she’s done losing her mind about it

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

𝟿.𝟼𝙺 𝚃𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝

2.9K

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 1

⚠️ spoilers in the warnings ⚠️

swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral, violence, threats, blackmail, fighting, blood, gore, mentions of sextortion, Rafe sneaks into the reader's room, panty stealing, panty sniffing, takes pictures of the reader's private images, cum tasting, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, twist dark reader, mutual obsession, rough oral, gagging, kissing, reader doesn't ask rafe if he wants to go further than oral but he does and she starts anyway, messy sex, squirting, praise, drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use

𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓶𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮

Rafe’s POV:

I look out into the sea of college students piled on the road and grass. Booze, smoke, and sex hang heavily in the air. The fact that we haven’t got busted yet is a borderline miracle, the type of miracle I need because I – a fuckin’ idiot – didn’t ask for her number.

I stand near the kegs, not close enough to work them but close enough to see it as well as the front door of Phi Mu. Three hours and still no y/n. Where’s my girl? I take a pull from the bottle as my nerves start to creep in. What if she’s with Billy? What if she never left the house?

I swallow thickly, looking toward the sorority.

All of the lights are off. A soft glow of light shines from the side of the house, making my heart sink. No.

Pushing through the party, I make my way toward the house, my heart ramping up as I think about her and Billy not leaving. My jaw coils tight, teeth gritted.

What am I gonna do if he is? My threats weren’t enough. I’m gonna need to do something drastic. All my thoughts come to a screeching halt as I go to the window, looking into her empty bedroom. I turn fast, breaking into a trot, peering into Billy’s window.

Empty.

I can feel my heart rate slow, my tense shoulders falling. She’d never do that to me. Who am I kidding? She wanted me at the coffee shop. I pretty much sealed the deal at the car wash. She’s lookin’ for me. Fuck. ‘Course she is… I walk through the grass and head back to the party. The bass-heavy music thunders through the night air, making it hard to think about much more than the task at hand… Finding my girl.

I shove through the dense crowd, my head swiveling as I scan the crowd. My breathing is shallow, my heart rate climbing with every passing second, leaving me all but suffocated.

My head snaps to the side, catching a glimpse, nearly missing her as she gets swallowed up in the crowd. Or was that her? Am I seeing shit now?

I reach up, tugging at the collar of my t-shirt as my breathing tightens.

What if she found someone else? What if Billy was the least of my worries this entire time? My hands curl into my fists at the thought.

Billy’s looking for her, too. I know he is. If he wasn’t, he’d be out here. That fucker is always somewhere near the kegs. I told him y/n was off-limits. I thought I made that shit crystal clear. The coffee shop, the car wash… She was clearly interested in me.

She’s mine.

Even if she doesn’t know it yet, I don’t think these boys know how far I’d go to get what I want.

I want her.

I see another flash of hair to my left. Princess? I push through the crowd, following her just like I was this afternoon on campus, swerving and pushing through the crowd. “Y/n,” I call over the music. She turns around… Just some girl. Shit. A fuckin’ gut punch as she turns back around and joins her group of friends.

“Rafe!” One of the underclassmen calls out. “Bro – you good?” Clenching my jaw, I look over and nod, barely sparing them a glance as I continue to search.

I watch a couple disappear between the frat and the sorority, falling into the darkness. The boy pushes her against the wall before their lips lock, and for a split second, I think it’s her. My nerves ramp up, painting the worst-case scenarios: y/n’s face on her body and Billy’s on his. I rub my clammy hands against my jeans, my stomach turning. “Dammit,” I hiss, brushing my fingers through my hair nervously, my breathing erratic.

“The fuck are you on, Cameron?” Those same boys chuckle, pulling me out of my downward spiral. God, I must look like a fuckin’ mess.

“E,” I lie as I roll the tension out of my neck.

“E?” One of them asks with a wolfish grin. “You sharin’ or what?”

“Money talks, man. I’m sure as shit not sharin’ anything with you,” I snicker as I lift the liquor to my lips, drowning some more. The party grows louder as I stand there, trying to think of my next move.

I hear a familiar bubbly laugh. Cassie. Y/n’s sorority sister… Her face is plastered all over Y/n’s Instagram. If there’s someone who knows where she is, it’s her. I stalk to their group, frantic.

“Have you seen Y/n?” I interrupt them before I can think about it for another moment. Cassie blinks a few times, taken aback. I mean, we’ve never fuckin’ talked before.

”Uh, no… I don’t think so…” She watches me cautiously. “Why?” She asks curiously.

Jesus fucking christ. This is gonna get me nowhere.

I turn on my heels as my frustration mounts; I walk back to the underclassmen at the keg. The plastic trembles as I fill it to the brim with lukewarm beer. “…yeah, I’m supposed to buy some coke off Billy, but that fucker said he was lookin’ for someone.”

“Who?” The other boy asks, making my blood boil because I already know the answer.

“That Phi Mu girl he’s always talkin’ about. I don’t know. She’s hot as fuck.” I feel the liquid trickle down my forearm. Looking down, I realize I cracked my cup from my grip. Fuck, he’s a tough learner, isn’t he? My threats went in one ear and out the other.

That bitch probably thinks I’m a joke. He’s probably walkin’ around right now. Stalking her like she’s a fuckin’ animal.

I take a deep breath, looking down at the beer still leaking down my arm. I close my eyes, trying to calm down and gather my thoughts. You gotta be smart about this, Rafe.

I clear my throat, making my face passive before I make my first move.

“Hey,” I call out to the guys that were talking. “You guys got Billy’s number? Yeah?”

”Mhmm,” one of them hums. “‘Course.”

I lift my phone, feigning nonchalance. “Got shit service out here. Tell Billy his girl’s at the frat.”

One of them jabs the other in the side, gesturing for him to pull out his phone and send it off. His face glows in the light, the underclassmen quickly shoving it in his pocket as I swallow the rest of my beer, trying to remain uninterested, just hoping that he didn’t mention anything about me being the one to say I saw her.

“Thanks, buddy,” I smile, slapping him on the shoulder as I step toward the party's fringe, leaving the chaos behind to focus on watching for him. Billy thinks he makes the rules. He thinks he can disrespect me? No one fuckin’ disrespects me.

Billy.

That smug bitch struts toward the frat house, cig dangling from his lips, his head tilted down as he checks his texts. I can’t help but smile as something goes my way. Finally. Thankfully, I’ll get to take care of him first.

Billy sucks down the rest of his cigarette before flicking it into the dewy grass. He reaches up, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and raking his fingers through his sandy blonde hair before setting his backward cap back on.

His lips curl upward the closer and closer he gets, no doubt thinking about ruining my girl in his room. He has no clue what he’s walkin’ into. I take a deep breath, moving toward the frat house, pushing through the crowd on the front lawn. “Billy! Hey, man, I’ve been lookin’ for you.”

Billy turns over his shoulder like he had been caught, and he had. “What’s up, Cameron?” Billy asks, stuffing his phone in his pocket. I fight the urge to eye it. He’s texting my girl, I’m sure.

“Heard you got some yayo,” I smirk. “That true?” Billy stands there for a moment, running through scenarios in his head. His expressions ebbing between confusion and annoyance as I ask him for shit he knows I already have.

I shrug casually before continuing. “You holdin’ out on me, man. C’mon. I got cash. You got the shit, buddy. M’not trying to hold you up. Just need a bump,” I soften my voice on purpose to make it harder for him to hear me. Billy furrows his eyebrows, leaning closer to me.

“What?” He shouts. “Can’t fuckin’ hear you, man.” I nod over to the billiards room, making him roll his eyes and suck his teeth. Billy shoves his hands in his pockets, making his way toward the pool room without a fight. It’s not like he could tell me where he was goin’ or who he was lookin’ for… We were both puttin’ on an act.

I reach back, pulling the large wooden door shut behind me. Billy looks over at me, his eyes narrowing on mine, and at that moment, I swear he knows why he asked him in here, and it has nothing to do with a sale. He knows I’m here to settle the score. The music muffles to an eerie quiet as the tension between us builds. We both know if shit happens in here, no one’s hearin’. This is between him and I. No one’s stoppin’ this fight.

Billy’s arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, growing impatient regardless. “What’s this about, Rafe?” He asks annoyedly as he scratches his chin. A wicked smile plays on my lips; I turn slightly, clicking the lock into place, letting him know that his suspicions are valid and the threat is real. “Holy shit. Say somethin’, you fuckin’ psycho.”

“You know exactly where we’re in here, Billy. Why don’t you tell me? Huh?” I ask as I shove him roughly, sending him deeper into the dark room. “I made myself clear. She’s mine. And here you are, goin’ behind my back, lookin’ for her.”

Billy’s eyebrows shoot up, shifting his stance to make himself look bigger. He wasn’t gonna let this go without a fight. That’s fine – neither was I.

“Oh, I heard you, Rafe,” Billy chuckles smugly, his tongue gliding along his bottom lip

“I’m not gonna say it again. Aight. She’s mine. Stay. Away. From y/n,” I warn with a casual dominance.

Billy chuckles, his wild blue eyes glinting, inviting the challenge with open arms.

“Or what, Richy Rich? You gonna throw a tantrum every time you don’t get pussy. Run that mouth of yours every time a girl chooses me over you. She made it clear who she wants, and it ain’t you.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s why she’s texting me this, huh?” He asks as he takes out his phone, showing off a picture of Y/n from the car wash. Her beautiful body is soaking wet as she gives him a look that would have had me cumming all over my phone again and again. The looks that’s only meant for me.

“Bitch-” Billy hisses as my hands grip the front of his shirt, shoving him against the pool table. Billy pushes me off, making me stumble back into the wall. ”Careful,” Billy barks, “you’re gettin’ yourself into shit you can’t finish. You’re not scaring me, bitch boy, Get the FUCK out of my way.”

He pushes me, but the contact is all I need. I grab him by the arm, throwing him off his feet and onto the floor. The impact echoes through the room as he hits the ground hard, fighting for the breath he lost. Billy quickly scrambles through his feet, charging fast.

I put my full weight into my punch, swinging for his jaw. He dodges, delivering a quick, brutal jab to my ribs. I land a punch, the blow plowing the side of Billy’s head, making him stumble back and onto the pool table, sending the pool balls scattering.

I grab him by his shirt, ripping the material in the process, tossing him to the ground like trash. “You don’t get to win. You don’t fuckin’ get her,” I shout as I stand over his body, lifting my foot to stomp on his chest, making him recoil in pain.

“And you think you do?” Billy grunts, kicking out my feet, making me stagger. He rises to his feet, chest heaving with effort. “Y/n doesn't even know you, Rafe. You met here once.” He scoffs. “One fuckin’ day. One. You’re just some obsessed fuck,” he spits as blood bubbles out of his mouth.

”Obsessed?” I laugh, shaking my head at him. “Obsessed. Maybe I’m just givin’ her what she deserves. Huh? She doesn’t need some weak pussy playin’ the long game. She needs a man who takes what he wants,” I reach down, grabbing a pool stick off the table as the room blurs, anger overtaking my being. I swing the stick, nailing Billy’s face, sending his head snapping to the side before his body tumbles to the floor. Blood spurts from his face, gathering in a puddle around his head.

Message delivered.

Billy lets out a small, feeble breath. Still alive. Barely. I roll my eyes, crouching next to his limp body, listening to his labored breaths. "You don't get to even think about her again. You stay the hell away from her, or you won’t be able to get up next time." Billy’s eyes flicker to mine before dropping down in defeat.

“Fuck you, Rafe. M’gonna tell her everything,” he mumbles, barely audible as he fights for consciousness. His blood continues to spill from his lips, making a grin grow on my face.

”No, you’re not. ‘Cause if you do, that little scandal you thought was long gone will be far from over. I’ll drag that shit out of the dirt and drag you with it, you pathetic fuck. $15,000 to some whore in Vegas after she recorded you stroking your shit online? You haven’t even finished payin’ your debt to me, asshole.”

“You got no fuckin’ proof.”

“Bullshit, I do. She was blackmailing you then, and I’m blackmailin’ you now. You don’t think I don’t have those pictures. Paid that nasty slut $5,000 extra just to keep ‘em in case of emergency and shittt… Look at what we got ourselves into, huh?” I chuckle cruelly. “Checkmate, bitch.”

I stand up, smoothing out my shirt, making myself half-presentable for her. "You can be my brother, Bills, or my enemy. Don’t make me end you.” I turn on my heels, heading toward the door, locking it from the outside. I smile as I take a few more steps, satisfied for the moment, pinching the volume button on the speakers before cranking it up even louder, drowning out any noises Billy dares to make.

I let out a loud breath, returning to my earlier thoughts.

Where the hell is she?

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 3

[fallingfor-fics]

Can you write a part 2 for Cat Fight where Melissa doesn’t want to be a secret anymore? Thank you ❤️

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

As requested!

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Basically the request, I hope this is somewhat close to what you imagined!

Warnings: no smut sorry, uhhh going commando?, barely even a little tiny bit of angst if you squint

You woke up from the light shining brightly through the bathroom window that was parallel to your spot on Melissa’s bed. You were grateful for the blackout curtains she had in place in the bedroom but still the light found its way to awaken you.  You looked at the clock and saw it was almost 10 so you decided to get up. You figured Melissa was up already because you didn't feel her wrapped around you or stealing the covers. You were surprised at the lack of hangover you had and you took a sip of water from the bottle on the nightstand before getting up to take a quick shower. Since you weren't planning on going home with her you didn't have any clothes and definitely didn't want to put your going out clothes back on which left your favorite thing, wearing Melissa's clothes.

You paused when you got in front of the mirror and saw your busted lip and the slightest pink and blue bruise on your cheekbone right below your eye. Oh right I did that for real last night. You combed through your hair with your hands before stripping and getting in the shower. Not long after You got in You heard Melissa digging around in the bedroom and eventually make her way to the bathroom door. She stood leaning against the doorframe and admiring you. She had a walk in shower that had a barely frosted glass door that only came to about your neck. It didn't leave much to the imagination. 

“Are you just going to stand there gawking or are you going to come in?” You said not looking at her and continuing to wash your hair.

She let out a laugh before coming to stand in front of the shower door, resting her arms on it and taking in the full view of you. “I already showered this morning hon otherwise I would, but it is with great restraint that I make this decision.”

You laughed, opening your eyes and finally looking at her. She winced and you walked closer to the door to be face to face with her and she raised a hand to barely touch your cheek and then she brought her hand down and allowed her thumb to rest on your cut lip. 

“That crazy bitch from last night got some good hits in, but I can't lie you look hot as shit sweets.” she smirks and you smile leaning in closer to kiss her. She doesn't resist and you deepen the kiss before pulling back quickly and continuing your shower.

“Ill see you downstairs for breakfast.” You say and she nods, sucking her teeth as she admires you and then walking away and disappearing from the bathroom steam. You quickly finish your shower and steal a comfy t-shirt from her dresser, you realize you wouldnt fit in any of her pants due to the lack of ass you possess compared to hers, and you also didn't want to put your underwear from last night on. So you ultimately decided to go commando. The shirt you stole was big enough to cover almost right passed your butt and you were content with that. You braided your hair and then headed downstairs. 

“Hey.” you smiled and Melissa turned from the coffee machine, handing you a cup. 

“Hey back. So how did you sleep?” she asked as you sat at one of the island stools and she stood across from you behind the counter. 

“Wonderful although I had the craziest dream.” you laughed and she shook her head. 

“Oh no hon, that was all real unfortunately.” 

“Thank you for everything last night, by the way.” You smiled leaning on the counter towards her, she leaned down on her elbows and allowed her face to sit a few inches from yours once again. She looked deeply into your eyes with a smile. 

“Thank you for beating that girl up for me last night. It was very much unnecessary but deeply appreciated.” She smirks as her eyes trace the details of your face with a seductive smile. 

“I was just doing what I would for any friend.” you spoke, adding the last word to tease her. She paused and her smile grew more serious and sincere as her eyes met yours, she looked down to your lips then back to your piercing eyes that were slightly confused at the switch in her. 

“Be my girlfriend.” she said her eyes softening and continuously admiring you. You furrowed your brows then let out a short laugh. 

“Mel, I am already your girlfriend.” you shook your head, your eyes now darting between hers.

“No, I mean my real, open, public.. Girlfriend.” She looked over your face for a reaction. You leaned up off the counter, sitting up straight and looking at her with concern.

“Wh- um. Look I love you but we could never tell our coworkers.” You shook your head as you spoke softly, She sat up to match your height and her brows furrowed. 

“Hon they are harmless, I think the worst thing is the HR paperwork we have to fill out. Plus after last night they probably have an inkling. Well Jacob for sure at least.” she laughs to herself and then rests a hand on her hip waiting for your response. You look down and fidget with your fingers. 

“I get that, but I really don't think they have an idea nor should they. I mean they don't even know that you like women.” a scoff left your lips more harsh than you intended and you looked up at her to catch her reaction. 

“I'm aware but I don't really care anymore, sweets.” She walked around the counter to stand behind you. “I don't want to worry about sneaking around anymore and sitting on opposite sides of the breakroom. Or not being able to post photos of you and I out of fear our friends or family would see it.” she went to tug on one of your braids but you shook your head. 

“I'm sorry but no. I don't want my family knowing, I was never going to tell them I liked women until I brought one home with a r-” you paused slightly out of breath from rushing through that sudden confession, now feeling more hesitant. 

“Home with a what?” Melissa smirked curiously.

You let out a sigh, “With a ring on my finger.” you finished looking back down at your hands.

“Are you saying you don't think you and I would ever-” she gestured between you and trailed off hoping you would understand what she was trying to get at. 

“No, no, it's not that I don't know if we- or I,” you let out an exhausted sigh. “What i'm trying to say is I don't want to tell my family yet until I know this is for real. That you're not going anywhere and that I'm not going to mess things up. Ok?” She nodded and looked down for a second. 

“I can't promise those things. Look, it's hot and all- the secrecy, but I want to be able to call you my girlfriend at the bar with our friends. I want to dance with you,” she stepped closer, her hands sliding around your waist resting below your chest. “And dance close to you.” she spoke softly now and she pulled you back into her. You felt her face by your ear and you let out a sigh. The warmth of her body comforted you and you understood Melissa wanting these things, wanting to show you off. 

“Fine but only our coworkers for now, no family yet, at least not mine.” You turned to face her, your arms reaching up to rest on her shoulders, draping around her neck.

“I can do that.” She responded and you smiled, leaning in to kiss her with a deep admiration. Her hands stayed firm on your hips and you felt her pushing you back towards the counter as your lips stayed connected. When you pulled away she was smiling sheepishly at you, lips pink and green eyes sparkling from the love she had for you. You caught your breath and then pulled her in close to you, your hand cupping her cheek and your other supporting yourself against the counter as Melissa’s hand slid down to grab under your knee and lift your leg up to rest against her hip as she pressed into you. You opened your eyes and pulled away slowly, your chest pressing into hers even harder leading a shudder to go down your spine. She looked between the two of you and smirked, raising a brow with a cocky manner. 

“Did I really get you to drop your panties that fast sweetheart?” she teased and you laughed.

“Shut up and take off my shirt, but be gentle cause it belongs to my girlfriend.” you quipped with a smile and she didn't hesitate to follow instructions, whisking you away to celebrate.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

For the prompts list: 16. bodily fluids as lube with Mr. Wick 😍

Helen Wick x John Wick (nsfw). I hope I did you justice, anon :3

If Helen is being honest, and she usually is—

The mere sight of John Wick with a bottle of hypoallergenic water based lubricant in his hands is laughable.

“What?” He asks, looking around, obviously not in on the joke.

“Oh, John,” she says, covering her giggles. “You’re adorable.”

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, little smile lighting up peachy cheeks. Been called by many names, Wick has, but never that one. “Thanks,” he says, ever the smooth talker.

“I don’t think we need help.” She motions to his thoughtful bottle, then nudges her panties to the side. Glistening and beautiful, is she, a Goddess amongst crisp, tangled sheets.

He resists the urge to fall onto all fours and begin howling—feral for a taste of her sweet, wet cunt. “Jesus, Hels.”

“Yeah?” She asks, with that golden sunshine smile just for him, dipping a finger inside her pretty pussy to lure him closer. “Come here, John.”

The lube tumbles from his hand, or maybe he intentionally throws it across the room. He’s not sure what happens in the time it takes for him to go from standing in the bathroom doorway to laying between her legs.

When she cradles his cheek, he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, the loss of sight, although agonizing, heightening the smell of her to an irresistible degree. All for him. All for him.

“Can I taste you?” He murmurs, lips sealing a kiss to the damp skin of her inner thigh. She is sopping, and he needs to clean up that sticky mess with his mouth before the sheets ruin underneath her hips.

“Mmm.” Her nimble fingers thread through his thick tumble of hair, knowing—always knowing—all the right places to touch to make him shudder. “I don’t know…”

She’s teasing him. She loves it… Watching the big, bad, stoic John Wick get hard and desperate and messy for his favorite girl, leave wet patches on his underwear right where the tip of his cock begs to bust free, hump the sheets while he suckles her clit and fucks her on his thick fingers.

He looks up at her, the beg in his eyes even more potent than the one in his rich, chocolaty voice. “Please, Helen. Can I please taste you?”

”Yeah,” she nods, grinning lip bitten between her teeth as John parts her folds with the tip of his tongue.

He hums in approval, slurping up all that gooey desire. All of his desire. All for him, Helen is. All of this.

And she’s right, the lube really isn’t needed.

[misfits1a]

ACCORDING TO YOU. reki kyan x reader

angst; fluff

posted. 8 aug 2024 (originally posted 24 may 2023)

notes. AHHH my first fic for my beloved, reki kyan!! the mall they’re at is the aeon mall okinawa rycom. if my research is correct, ramune is a carbonated soft drink, chūka is japanese chinese cuisine, and itameshi is italian-japanese food

also, i was really fighting with myself for a while about if i wanted to have a side blog specifically for my writing (and i originally posted this fic on that account), but i decided i'd keep all my stuff on one blog so alas, i must repost

cw. a JERKWAD of an ex! language. unedited

wc. 1.5k

you’re not exactly sure how you ended up here.

one moment, you and reki are walking around murasaki sports and the next, the two of you are sitting across from your ex and his new girlfriend— hidaka rina, if you remember correctly— at kamakura, waiting for your order.

it’s awkward.

daichi uses his pinky nail to pick at something in his mouth. hidaka scratches absentmindedly at her napkin, her dark waves covering half of her face. she’s pretty, you have to admit– pale skin, cocoa eyes, long lashes, perfect height and thin.

reki yawns— obnoxiously, in daichi’s opinion; adorably, in yours. reki throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you in close to his side. the bubbly skater leans in, his lips practically grazing your ear to whisper something.

you laugh at the joke.

neither of you see it, but daichi scowls. hidaka, however, does catch it and rolls her eyes. daichi could be so disgusting sometimes and for no reason other than he felt like it.

“so, reki,” daichi starts.

reki hums, just barely loud enough for you to hear, as he pulls away from you, smiling his trademark sunny smile at your ex in acknowledgment.

“how did you meet y/n?”

“oh, she works with a friend of mine!” reki says.

he loves this story— it was love at first sight for him, he believes. he and his best friend langa, along with another friend of theirs, miya, had arrived at the flower shop to ask hiromi for a ride to s later. when they’d walked in, your workmate had groaned, obviously knowing what was coming (and you’d just been confused), but as reki opened his mouth to ask the question, his eyes had drifted behind shadow and there you were, arranging some flowers. 

miya would say he had hearts in his eyes, it was so obvious. immediately, he’d abandoned his question and went over to where you were working, struggling to start up a conversation. you’d laughed at his flusteredness, much to his chagrin, but then asked his name. at hearing your voice for the first time, he’d thought, “marry me”, but when you and langa and miya and hiromi busted out laughing, he’d realized he’d said it aloud.

thankfully you took pity on him, and offered a date first. the rest is history.

daichi quirks a brow, grabbing his bottle of ramune and taking a sip. “a friend of yours works at a lingerie store?”

for just a moment, reki’s confused. but then he remembers you telling him you worked at a lingerie store before you worked at tulip.

you sigh. “i work at tulip now. the flower store.”

“oh, i’ve been there a few times!” hidaka says. “i always get my mom flowers from there. the manager lady is really nice.” she turns to reki as she continues, “i’m assuming your friend is the big orange haired guy?”

“yeah, shad—” he coughs, catching himself. “hiromi.”

“he’s nice,” hidaka hums.

daichi scoffs low in his throat, taking another sip of ramune. he sets the bottle down. he sucks his teeth. “can i ask you another question, reki?”

your boyfriend’s eyebrows shoot up in questioning. he doesn’t like the tone of daichi’s voice, but says “sure” anyway.

“what do you like about y/n?”

the sound of your given name coming from his mouth after the shit he put you through the two years you were together sends a wave of disgust through your veins. under the table, you clench a hand.

reki is so taken aback by the question, all he can say is, “huh?”

“well, when i was with y/n . . .” daichi starts, leaning back against the booth. daichi has always had a craving for causing trouble, and you can tell he wants to start some by the glint in his eyes. he inhales a deep breath, then blows it out. “well, she’s boring, is she not? quite moody? plus, when we were together, it never seemed like she could do a damn thing for herself.”

you sit in silent fury. reki’s speechless. even hidaka’s mouth is dropped open in shock.

daichi straightens his shoulders, scrunches up nose, and continues in a higher pitched voice, in an attempt to copy you, you assume: “‘daichi, take out the trash.’ ‘daichi, can you do the dishes?’ ‘can you help me bring the laundry out?’” he drops his shoulders and his voice returns to his own. “and nothing ever pleased her, either, you know? i’d do the dishes, and she was upset i didn’t do the pots and pans. i’d take out the laundry, but i didn’t ready the detergent for her.

“can’t make up her mind for anything. i’d come over and we’d decide to watch a movie, she always grabbed like five movies to make me choose from. when we’d order takeout, it was always ‘tacos! ooh, chūka! wait no, itameshi!’”

reki finally regains his composure and opens his mouth to speak, but daichi, ever the pot stirrer, continues on.

“plus, she always chose her friends and family over me. on my seventeenth birthday, her friend airi injured her ankle in a gymnastics accident and she took her to the emergency clinic. and when her brother was graduating kindergarten, after i broke my ankle, she went to his graduation instead of coming to visit me at home after she said she would.”

you’re absolutely bewildered, and you feel like crying. which would only attest to his “moody” claim, huh?

“what the fuck?” hidaka mutters. not because you chose taking care of your friend over going to daichi’s seventeenth birthday celebration, and not because you chose your brother’s kindergarten graduation over visiting him after he injured his ankle. but over the actual audacity that he had the nerve to hold a grudge over that.

reki slams his hands down on the table, pulling himself up. you’ve only ever seen the look on his face a couple of times— hell, not even. upset was not an expression your boyfriend made often, usually the cheery one.

“why don’t you shut up?” he snarls.

“what?” daichi chuckles coldly.

“you’re a fricking dick; no wonder y/n dumped your ass.” reki continues. “you’re the stupid one. how could you say that shit about someone you once claimed to love? you never loved her— you loved having control over her.”

daichi rolls his eyes, unaffected.

“what kind of jackass would get mad at someone for choosing their family over them? are you telling me you wouldn’t?”

“no, i would,” daichi says.

reki balks for a minute at the blatant hypocrisy. he shakes his head before continuing, “and you’re wrong! y/n is incredible! she’s one of the funniest people i know– maybe not in telling jokes, but in her own way, she’s funny. and she’s beautiful, inside and out! i love that she cares so much about her friends and family. it’s amazing! she’s smart, and kind, and independent, and no wonder she hates asking for help even when i want to give it to her! i’m glad she dumped your ass, because if i don’t deserve her, you sure as hell didn’t.”

reki grabs your hand and pulls you out of the booth.

“come on, babe, we’re leaving.”

“without paying?”

reki doesn’t say anything, just looks at hidaka and says, “you should too,” before taking you out of the restaurant.

it’s only when you two are in kahiko, looking at all the shirts that remind you of kojiro, that you speak up: “thank you, reki. for standing up for me. i clearly couldn’t do it myself.”

his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him. he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“i knew you could,” reki starts. “but it was my chance to show you how much better i am than that jerk. he’s the stupid and useless one. not you. never you.”

“agreed,” comes a panting voice from behind the two of you. you turn to see hidako, cheeks flushed and a shy smile on her face. she looks at reki, “i took your advice. i don’t think he’s too happy we left him with the check but after everything he said, it’s the least we could do, right?”

reki chuckles.

“well,” hikada huffs. “i’ll see you two around. i know you didn’t mean to, but it probably would have been much longer until i saw daichi’s true colors if we hadn’t run in to you today, so thanks.”

then she turns and walks away.

you wrap your arms around reki, snuggling your face into his sweatshirt. he laughs, patting the small of your back.

“i love you, reki. so much. you know that right?”

you feel him nod. “you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, y/n. i hope you know that.”

you hum, looking up at him, a content smile gracing your features. “tell me again?”

he laughs again and pulls back, gently shoving you away. “i love you more than anything, y/n,” he pats your head. “hey so, will you come to s with me tonight?”

© 2023 misfits1a. all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim my work as yours; please credit if you want to repost my work in a fic rec

[iepurasdepraf]

ᒍEᖇᐯIᔕ TETᑕᕼ: ᒪIGᕼTᔕ OᑌT - ᑭᗩᖇT 1

Music for this part - Part 2

Acrid smoke stung your eyes between the passes of the oscillating fan that gave you respite while the cigarette between your teeth burned down a little by little. You were putting all your attention into counting and just been letting it burn at this point. Sucking that cancer in or not, you needed it. Praying to the god of Marlboro that a hit of nicotine will keep your eyes open just a bit longer even if it made it harder at the same time. 

At the tail end of a nine hour shift, you had counted the same bills three times and come up with different numbers each time. Tired to the bones, it was day four of five of work and you had to come back tomorrow at seven pm. It was four forty seven am. You shouldn't have covered those three hours for Chitchat so she could go on that date. She owed you.

You just wanted to go home. Take a nice hot shower while you could still stand up then sleep. Fuck getting groceries tomorrow before work. Thirteen minutes and you were free. Just thirteen more. Thinking about it makes your arms feel heavier. Even counting the cash felt like a chore at this point, but you wanted to exchange the ones and fives in the club rather than making yourself a mark with trash bags full of cash on the subway.

“Hey, Bans! You got a guy!”

You couldn’t even manage a groan. After squeezing your eyes shut for a moment and letting your head tilt back to try to gather yourself as best you can, you rip the cigarette out of your mouth, asking as nicely as you could manage in spite of how your body was tensed up “Table or VIP?” “I dunno,” The other girl said, waddling past you with one of her heels off already, feet bright red from being on them all night. “Just asked for you on my way back and I said I’d get you for him.”

You snuff your smoke out slightly too aggressively, but luckily she doesn’t notice. You weren’t mad at her and didn’t want her to think that so you make sure to check yourself. Whatever, hopefully this would end with a big fat tip for your efforts. Not a bad way to end the night and so you pop a peppermint in your mouth out of the tray on the table and put on your best smile while shuffling your money, zipping it up in your bag to take home.

“Wish me luck.” You say tossing your bag back in the corner and shrugging on your ripped up black crop top, not bothering with your bra.. It was enough. They were lucky you even put your pants, tiny as they were, back on at this point. You weren’t going to put in that kind of effort this early in the morning. “Good luck!” She called after you, giddily flopping on the leather sofa you’d been taking up until then. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you straight up run into the guy after busting through the door a little too hard in your hurry to get home making him take a few staggered steps back. He’d been waiting so close to it you were shocked you didn’t hit him right in his very prominent schnoz. At least you knew who’d asked for you right away. “Well hey there, handsome!” He was, in fact, not handsome. He was- God, he was really sweaty. Why was he so sweaty? You’d barely touched him and you felt like someone hit you with a toad straight out of a parking lot puddle.

“Hh-ih-hhh-hi-” Oh God, he was a weird one. A really weird one. He stood there in all his yellow buck-toothed glory wringing his hands out of his element entirely in his dorky tweed suit with a terrible comb over and coke bottle glasses that magnified his eyes to the point of comedy. Shaking. Trembling. In absolute shambles and for no reason you could see. Existing was this creature’s enemy.

Those big doe eyes blinked up at you and he said…absolutely nothing. He only got out that squeaky greeting. He’d been hard to hear over the music, but you weren’t worried about Mr. Mumbles. You’d have him back in the VIP soon enough and be able to hear him just fine. You put that winning smile on and his shivering intensified. You didn’t think his eyes could get bigger, but he responded to a simple smile like you’d taken your top off in front of him for the second time tonight, but maybe he’d missed that.

He was just your type. Those sweet old nerds that never peaked fell head over heels for you and the 80’s goth aesthetic you so carefully cultivated. You triggered that nostalgia for that youth they missed out on, the prime they could have had. The hot girl in their comp-sci class they could never work up the courage to even wave at in the hall and for a couple of thin easily earned, for them at least, dollars you could be theirs for just a few minutes in the club. To look at and, for the right price, you’d touch them and they could pretend they hadn’t been such losers. If they tried outside of that your boss would remind them what being shoved in a locker felt like though.

“What can the Banshee do for you?” “Ha-hmm-” You glanced at the clock then back at him. There was no such thing as overtime here, little man. You couldn’t say that, but you certainly thought it at least twice before he finally said “I- ah, I was hoping wh-” He had some kind of a nervous tic. It looked like he flinched. Maybe he had, you weren’t a doctor. You couldn’t tell, but it made your hairless brow arch all the same. Around four foot ten, mousey brown hair. Greasy. Just everywhere, greasy all over. His eyes were watery, but it was too dark to see what color they were. He smelled like alcohol, but not the kind from the bar. Isopropyl alcohol.

The job came with its hazards and it looked like this geek might be one of them. You memorized his features the best you could just in case just like your boss taught you. There was plenty going on that would identify him if worse came to worse and plenty of cameras. “I was hh-hoping for a, um, private show?” He sounded funny and it wasn’t just the tic that had him stuttering. He had an accent. English? Now that he was actually managing some words you could hear it. That was weird on its own. This wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. He must work in the city? “Yeah?” You say hoping you sound more interested in it than you actually were.

It seemed to work, perking him up maybe a little too enthusiastically. “I brought money! A lot of money!” He reached into his coat and pulled out the biggest wad of cash you’d ever seen at once with both hands, it had to be at least ten thousand dollars. You grabbed his hands and held them down between the two of you so no one else could see. “Woah! Easy there, killer!” Was he insane?! This was downtown Gotham! Crime Alley was up the street. He’d have jumped for a couple of fives down here if anyone thought he had them in his wallet.

All he did in response was gasp that you had touched him then stare down at where your hands had met his actively vibrating ones. “Let’s take this to the back, alright? You gotta be more careful.” He didn’t move until you moved him. Taking that huge brick of cash in one hand and his wrist in the other, you marched him to the first empty lounge like he was a downright naughty boy being taken to his room.

Once the door was locked you turned to him “You could have been killed for this if anyone saw you with it.” You chastised bringing his hand up to press the cash in it. Making sure his fingers wrapped around it before you let go. He didn’t answer, still staring at your hand on his wrist so you let that go too. Your hands were sopping wet from the sheer amount of sweat pouring off him. 

To his credit, he seemed to function better in the back after what looked like the human version of a computer restarting without warning you first so you lost the progress on that word document you’d been working on for over an hour. Lingering electronic ptsd from high school essays aside, maybe it had been the lights and loud music that had put him over the edge on top of whatever else he was dealing with naturally? You didn’t know, but after that quiet reboot he looked a little more human and less like a rat that had touched the third rail.

At least he was speaking up now. “I didn’t…think about it, I apologize.” He said in an awfully shrill voice making you question why he was apologizing to you? His voice was unsettling and gave you that shiver up your spine the same way something grainy like unpolished glass grinding together did. It had a certain cartoonish quality to it in both pitch and tone. If you’d heard it over the phone you would have sworn he was using some kind of modulator to hide what he really sounded like. Did he genuinely sound that way? If he didn't, why was he putting on a voice like that? 

“I, ah- Well,” He held the money up again “I didn’t know how much to bring, you see, so I-well, I brought what seemed most reasonable for your, um, services?” He poised it as a question more than an answer. Like he was asking if it was reasonable rather than explaining that it was. You squinted at him. That was a reasonable amount of money to him? How disconnected from reality was he? 

“VIP packages start at three fifty.” You informed after crossing your arms, partially trying to find a comfortable way to stand with your back so sore and partially trying to put some defense up against the tiny man now that you were discussing business. He gasped like this was breaking news he couldn’t have googled before coming at all. Your boss had just set up a whole website for it specifically so people would stop trying to haggle with the girls. 

“Well,” The man counted out a few of the hundreds then fidgeted and looked back up at you “What’s the biggest package?” He was nearly cute in a kicked puppy way, but you didn’t let your defense down. You couldn’t afford to even with all that money on the table. “Do you have friends waiting outside or something?” “No! Why, no! No, mam, just me!” You felt your hand touch your cheek as you stared at the weirdo in absolute awed confusion. What on earth was this guy’s deal? 

You were too nice. Always have been. You should have just taken the money. He wanted to spend it and here you were talking him down like an idiot. Take the whole wad and don’t look back, come on! “But-but, miss, I want the most time!” He yelped a little too loudly, it made his voice crack. 

God, he was desperate. Your manicured finger tapped against your cheek as you pondered how this man hadn’t been scammed of every scant cent by now, especially in this city. “We can work that out, but what do you want?” Please, don’t say sex. You weren’t even sure if security was even still in the building and you’d had enough bad experiences with that. “I, um, need to give a presentation?”

What?

The look you must have given him prompted him to explain himself “I just need to give a presentation! At work! A presentation for my work at, uh, work and, well, I-” He melted into nervous giggles before he finished, but managed to suppress them enough to finish after a moment of looking like he was about to run away. “I need to practice. An audience so to speak and-” He looked miserable suddenly. “I don’t…” His voice lowered to a whisper “have any friends.” 

Your heart felt a little pang for him. Ok, more than a little. Same, man. Well, sort of. You had work friends. That wasn’t the same thing as a friend friend, but it wasn’t hard to believe this guy had no one at all. “Truly, I do need this!” He added quickly “It’s very important! My research depends on this! I promise I don’t mean to insult you or waste your time! I could lose funding and-and-” “I’m happy to work something out with you, but let's get you a drink first, alright?” “Alright.” He parroted back happy for the break from explaining himself. Taking quick half breaths on the verge of hyperventilating it looked like.

With peace and love, he didn’t look like a man who could hold his liquor. Nor did he seem like the type that would handle it well if he managed to do so. He needed to relax and there wasn’t anyone better for the job. You were the complete package and proud of it. You knew how to wind them up and just as importantly wind them down. You knew how to make more than a quick few cocktails, it was a part of the job.Thumbing through the Rolodex of recipes in your head you stopped on the first one that wouldn’t kill him on impact. 

A Friar Tuck. Chocolate milk for big boys. You glanced back at him on your way to the fully stocked minibar. Big enough boys. Hazelnut liqueur, dark crème de cacao, and Frangelico with, in this case, some nice cold half n’ half shaken with ice then strained in a glass. “Sip.” You say handing the glass to… hang on a second. 

“Now,” You sat him down in a chair with some gentle ushering “Let’s try this again. Hello, handsome.” He giggled nervously at you and smiled a sort of odd suppressed smile over being called handsome. You realized he was trying to hide his teeth now that he was thinking about it. There was no hiding those buck teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Jervis. Jervis Tetch.”

Banner art: DRCL - Midnight Children by Sakamoto Shinichi

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 7

Picture for Banner: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️Warnings: Ab*se, Violence, Mental Health, Cursing, Smut (mild), treat it as a normal Enemies 2 Lovers book, but the A/B/O dynamic will appear at some point. Trauma, manipulation, dirty talk, omegaverse topics.

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: I promise, we're entering the mature zone soon! Just gotta be patient with me ;) Remember, all reblogs are very much appreciated, as well as your comments!

Also! I am uploading a very short story about Stripper!Eddie and a very Shy reader ;) Here you go.

Anyways, Enjoy!

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Chapter 7

“Please, please, give me a break, I can’t do this again, please!” You yelled while laying on the hospital’s bed, your upper body propped up with each foot hooked into some metal pedals in each corner of the bed to keep your legs spread.

The doctor pulled away, looking up from in between your legs with pity eyes and shook her head.

“We can’t stop the process sweetheart, a pause can cause an alteration and we’re already more than halfway there! I promise!” You were processing what she was saying, with tears streaming down your cheeks, your bottom lip busted open from biting onto it way too hard to control your cries. The pain was unbearable, feeling like you were being split open, your insides being ripped apart. 

But you wanted this. You both wanted this. Something is wrong with you, it has to be. There’s no other explanation for it, no matter if the doctors ran a bunch of tests on you and said everything should really be fine, you didn’t believe that. Something was not working, but you really wanted this. 

So you nodded for your doctor to proceed, and the pain worsened from there.

———————————————————————————

“Buckley!” You busted the bar doors open in a slam, red faced, completely pissed off, already strutting towards the all too well booth and there she was. Hiding behind Steve at the corner of the seat, and your glare was digging a bullet through her skull. Robin gulped and looked over Steve’s shoulder.

“H-Hi! I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“Sorry?! You left me to do Hargrove’s presentation all by myself! And now I find you drinking again after telling me you felt sick in your stomach today! What’s the fucking deal Robin!?” You were pissed, so much, you didn’t notice the man sitting across Robin while he took a sip of his beer.

“Shit, baby, I’m sorry– I just didn't feel like going into work today either, and now I feel better!” She tried to excuse herself but you shook your head at her, sitting inside the booth, right next to the man that was looking at you as if you were crazy because you still hadn’t noticed him, and now you were sitting next to him.

Your eyes were filled with rage, and also another feeling you didn’t want to feel with Robin. You were feeling used. As if she had taken advantage of you for this project, but you didn’t even have to punish her for it, because–

“Beer for She-Hulk.” You heard Jonathan talk, and he knew you too well, placing the cold beer right in front of your face. Whenever you were angry, you ordered beer instead of a sweet drink. You grabbed onto the bottle and took a large sip of it, Steve’s eyes frowning in worry as he looked back and forth to you and the man next to you.

“Um–” Robin began and you slammed your bottle on the table, giving a huge sigh. You looked down at the condensation of the bottle, and you knew you would have to deliver the news to Robin. So without looking up, you kept staring at the label of the beer.

“Mrs. Liana took you off our project.” And silence fell on the table. Robin was looking at you, completely perplexed as you kept looking down at the bottle. She knew she didn’t help you much with the project, but it still stung in her heart that she was ripped away from it.

“You didn’t stop her?” She asked you and you looked up at her with a frown on your eyebrows.

“What did you want me to say? All the beta presentations of the project were done by me because you didn’t know what to say Robs. No matter if I did a speech for you or not! And then, the final presentation and you didn’t show either!” You did try to help Robin be more into the project, knowing it was a big opportunity for the both of you, but she was busy with Vickie visiting, or going out with Steve, or ‘feeling sick’.

Robin was looking now at her own bottle of beer, feeling completely dejected. She knew she had it coming, her own negligence kicking her right back in the ass. She sighed and took a sip of her drink, giving you a nod.

“It’s fine. I deserve it. But it means more work for you then.” You wanted to yell at her, telling her that she didn’t really help, so it would really just remain the same for you. You took a deep breath in, calmed down, and gave Robin a nod.

“Yes. But it’s fine, I can handle it.” You shrugged and took another sip, a little bit calmer now. You were stressed because of this, because it meant all the meetings and getting together with clients will be thrown your way, but this was nothing. You liked the distraction.

“Hey, I’m sorry… I had my head stuck in useless stuff.” You shook your head at her and smiled sadly.

“Hey, at least you got a life. I only have my work, and a list of useless people that don’t know how to satisfy someone else’s needs.” You say, taking out a pack of flavored marlboro from your suit’s pocket. You were in the smoking section of the bar, and each booth had vents over their heads to keep the smoke out. You lit it up to take a large swig out of the stick, letting the smoke fill your lungs to then exhale out, feeling your muscles relax.

“Um…” You heard Steve call you out and you looked at him with a confused look on your face, but he wasn’t looking at you. You followed his gaze towards the person that was sitting next to you, and had been staring at you since you sat down.

Brown irises locked with your own eyes, and you felt a cold sweat invade you, but no anger came to your chest. You were far too stressed for this bullshit, so you sighed heavily and rested against the back of the booth, looking back towards the bottle. 

“Great.” You say, taking a sip of your drink while holding the smoke on your other hand. 

“I don’t know how you didn’t notice me.” Eddie asks you while taking another sip of his drink, his stomach was in a knot while sitting next to you, and he could sense your distress ever since you entered the bar. 

“You aren’t the center of the world Munson, or my world for that matter. Sorry to disappoint you.” You say bitterly and Eddie bit the inside of his bottom lip to contain the snarky remarks he wanted to say to you, but Steve shot him one glare with a shake of his head. Eddie let out a shaky, angry, breath and clenched his jaw tightly.

“About the other night–”

“Please don’t.” You immediately spat out through your teeth. You didn’t have the energy to deal with his half ass apology, and you weren’t in the mood of apologizing either. Eddie’s eyes perked up at your response and looked at you, his mood souring each minute it passed.

“I’m trying to be civil here, Peach.” He calls you out and you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, taking another swig of your cigarette, looking at him to blow the smoke into his face. He closed his eyes but didn’t flinch, his body heating up with anger as he opened them up to look at you again.

“Forget about it. You trying to be civil Munson is like a penguin learning to fucking fly.” And you heard Steve sigh heavily, rubbing his eyes with his hand while Robin stared at the interaction. Eddie scoffed, slamming the bottle on the table to look at you.

“What is your fucking problem? I am trying to apologize, and you can’t help but be an insufferable cunt.” 

“Look in the mirror Munson.” You took a large swig of the cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray. “Like I said, forget it. I don’t want half assed apologies you don’t really want to make, and we don’t have to act like we tolerate each other. Yeah?” You say, blowing the smoke out of your lips as you talked. The panging on your chest was due to realizing you were sitting next to your mortal enemy, but it increased knowing he wanted to lie to you.

An apology? From him? Yeah, right.

“What the hell are you even smoking?” He asked, grabbing the pack in front of you to inspect it. “Does this really say Melon flavored? Jesus christ.” He dropped the pack back in front of you to take a sip of his own beer. You were about to retort to him, tell him he can shove his original flavored camels right up his ass, but your phone started to ring. 

You pulled it out, the tune of Harry Potter filling the air as you looked at the caller ID. You didn’t recognize the number, so it might be from your work. You sighed. You didn’t expect to have these kinds of calls right after your final presentation. You believed this would happen after meeting with a few clients, giving them your contact for future conversations. You slid the green button and put the phone in your ear.

“Hello?” You greet, taking a sip of your beer.

“Hi there Mousy.”

You spat it all over Steve and the table before you. Coughing wildly as you patted your chest to regain your breathing. Steve had stood up with a yell, trying to wipe his face and clothes as Robin let out a wild laugh, pointing at the stains on his shirt. Eddie was just bewildered at the interaction, but couldn’t help but hold in strangled chuckles in his throat.

“Shit!” You yell, grabbing onto a napkin to wipe away your mouth and hand Steve some more as he glared at you. 

“Damn, did I call at a bad time?” You heard him chuckle on the other side, and you felt nerves and warmth invade your whole body. He sounded way too good on the phone, Jesus christ. 

“I– wait–” You stood up, motioning for Robin to keep an eye on your stuff and she nodded at you while holding her giggles in, trying to fix Steve’s hair. The brown haired guy was still glaring at you as you made motion with your hand as a sorry. You stepped away from the booth, walking outside of the bar to talk a little bit more privately. “Sorry, I’m at a bar with friends and could barely hear you.”

“Ah, so I did call at a bad time.” He says, and you could even hear the smile on his face as he did, because he wasn’t going to hang up. You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile as you scratched your cheek nervously. 

“How did you get my number?” You ask him and you hear some clinking on the other side, and then a gulp. You licked your lips at the sound and you cursed at the sky for how needy you were being that the sound of ‘gulping’ was making you horny.

“Well, my agent told me you are my editor in chief for that article, so of course I asked for your number so we could stay in touch, you know… just in case.” He was smirking against the phone and you know it. “I never call other people that aren’t acquaintances on my personal phone… But I can make an exception for you, Mousy.”

Oh, he was smooth. He was telling you he was calling you from his personal phone instead of the work related one. Meaning that the only person with access to this phone, was him only, and not his agent. You gripped onto the phone tightly against your ear and you let out a small giggle.

“Is that supposed to impress me Mr. Hargrove? Remember, we work together now.” You explain to him and you hear him laugh on the other side.

“Alright, humor me then, Mousy. When’s the next meeting happening?” You scrunched up your nose in thought and counted the days in your head.

“I believe is next wednesday Mr. Hargrove. Curtis Delore was very interested in your Balenciaga design.” You explain to him and you hear him whistle on the other side. 

“Delore, huh. But Wednesday? Don’t you think it’s a little far away?” Oh, things are turning interesting now. You licked the inside of your right cheek, feeling your stomach fill with butterflies at the attention this man was giving you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought I could meet with you tomorrow. Discuss my work, and what we should say to the clients, just so all of our stories match.” Your breath was knocked out of your lungs. He was asking you out, this model was asking you out, on a saturday.

“Oh, we can definitely do that.”

“Great–” 

“On monday, at my office.” You reply to him, and on the other side of the phone, Billy Hargrove was stunned. He was rejected. Holy fuck, he was rejected. He should be angry, hang up, because no one belittled him like that. No one.

Yet, you… for whatever reason it is, he couldn’t help it. He was adoring this game of cat and mouse, which he never did, much less for someone like yourself. It’s not that you weren’t beautiful, but he always went for people of his same radius. Meaning actresses, models, singers. Famous people. 

None of the relationships Billy had lasted more than two months. The relationships were empty, filled with sex and empty conversations, fake interviews, fake scenarios his agent made him make up and talk about them in a talk show. He never had to flirt more than one night, much less go through the hustle of almost begging for someone’s number. But you were like a drug to him right now, and he wanted more, desired more. 

“Ah, so the game is still on, very well.” Your heart was on your throat, and you were about to say goodbye to him but suddenly his voice deepened in your ear and you almost dropped your device to the floor. “Mousy, one of these days you are going to come to me, on your own accord… And I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel.”

Your breathing became heavy as you clenched your legs together. Heat was rushing from your core, going all over your body at his words. You wanted to take it all back, tell him you’ll meet tomorrow, because the tension was too strong right now, and you could barely handle it. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to satisfy yourself tonight, or the day after now. There was no way.

“I–”

“Goodbye Mousy. See you on monday.” And like that, you heard the line click. Your mouth was open, staring at nothing, slowly blinking as you felt the air leaving your mouth but not feeling it really filling up your lungs. After two seconds of processing what happened, you smiled and squealed loudly, doing a little jump in your place as you tightened the phone to your chest.

You were sure he would believe you were rejecting him there, and to be honest, you were unsure if that would have been the right decision to do when he was kind of your employer in this article. But it’s temporary, literally month temporary, so you two wouldn’t be working together for long. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, walking back into the bar and sitting in the booth again, not caring any longer of who was sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry Steve.” You said with a wince as you saw how badly he was glaring at you, your smile dropping immediately at his state. His hair was pushed back, with the wet stains all over his polo shirt.

“Who called for you to react like that?” Steve asked with a sneer as Robin kept wiping his hair away with a tissue, grimacing at the smell of beer in his hair.

“Oh, that was–” And you froze. This wasn’t a hook up from the dating app, nor a stranger you see on the street. He might not even want this to be public, this teasing of yours, or this friendship, or whatever it is. Not even to your own friends. You felt your chest press on you and gulped, giving him a soft smile. “My mom.”

“So you jump like a high school girl when your mom calls you? You must love her very much.” Eddie said next to you, with venom in his tone now. You winced under your breath but kept the smile on your face as you turned to look at him.

“That I do.” You saw his jaw clench and unclench and he was fighting with everything in him to not call you out. But he had to calm down, breathing deeply and giving you a nod, turning to look at Robin. He knows that it wasn’t your fault that she was pushed aside from that project, and he knew you were feeling bad about it. He noticed it when your bottom lip quivered when you said she wasn’t going to participate in it anymore.

But now, you were lying again. So he took a big sip out of his beer, taking it all in one go. He raised his hand up to Jonathan to ask for another one, and when he came to the table, everyone ordered another set of beers, except for you.

“A Strawberry Daiquiri.” You said to Jonathan and he raised his eyebrows up at you with a confused look on his face.

“Not angry anymore? Sitting next to Munson? Really?” Robin was squinting while staring at you, wondering what was going on, but she knew you would tell her sooner or later. Right? You were looking at your phone, saving the newest contact on your list.

‘B. H.’

“Yeah, I’m in a better mood now.”

End of chapter 7

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[zablife]

Ordering some fluffy, maybe smutty Hangman banter, please 🤭 No pressure though 🥰

Five servicemen played pool in the corner, the blonde constantly giving you the eye. You averted your gaze, biting your cheek to keep from smiling. "Looks like someone's got a crush," the new waitress said with a smirk. 

Going back to your work behind the bar, you shrugged. "He's handsome in a Ken doll kinda way, I suppose."

"Well if you're not gonna fuck him, I sure will," she said bluntly, sending a little wave in his direction. Jake gave her a dazzling smile, showing off his shining white teeth and you turned away to finish your work behind the bar.

Just then a handsome older gentleman approached asking for a beer and you began pouring it from the tap as you engaged in polite conversation. He told a joke and you laughed. You found it advantageous to play along, finding the tips better than the punchlines most nights. 

You hadn't noticed, but Jake had sauntered over, a cocky strut to his walk as he approached. "When you get a chance, I'd like another round, sweetheart," Jake announced politely, his southern drawl more pronounced after a few beers. You whipped around to see him leaning over the bar, tanned forearm stretched across the polished wood.

"Just a minute," you said, holding up one finger, surveying the people crowding the bar. You finished with the customer in front of you, giving him plenty of attention in order to maximize your tip. Tucking the cash he gave you inside your back pocket, you turned back to Jake. 

Handing him another beer, you couldn't help but notice the disappointed look in his eye. "Too busy for me tonight, darlin'?" he asked, taking a swig from the bottle. He watched the other man at the end of the bar carefully before glancing back at you. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, jerking your head toward the new waitress. Jake chuckled, placing his beer on the bar and reaching for your hand. 

"Jake, I'm two deep," you told him, pulling away as you grabbed the glasses you needed.

"I'd like to be deep inside you right now," he said low enough only you could hear. You shot him a warning glance as you mixed the cocktails that had been ordered, feeling his eyes boring a hole into you. 

“Don’t make me ring the bell, Seresin,” you threatened, tapping the sign behind you. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake replied, holding his hand to his heart. He knew the rules and he would never disrespect a lady. However, he would annoy you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Sure you don’t need your bell wrung, darlin’? You’re awful tense,” he said, unable to hold back his laughter.

Your arm jerked up toward the rope, but Jake caught your wrist just in time. “Too much?” he asked apologetically.

“I’m tired, Jake. Let me get this round out, please,” you begged. He nodded, releasing you so you could serve the drinks. Coming back to where he stood with an exhausted expression on your face he asked, "You gettin' a break tonight or do you live back there now?"

"It's called work, Jake. Not everyone can play with jets all day then flirt all night," you retorted as Penny swept behind you with a fresh tray.

"Penny, this young lady needs a break. She looks positively fatigued," Jake called to the proprietor.

Penny looked up from behind the bar with a quirked eyebrow, then back at you. “I’m fine. Ignore him," you said dismissively.

"No, you should go. You've been busting your ass all night," she agreed. “Get out of here!” she implored with a wave of her hand. Knowing it was useless to argue, you removed your apron and stowed it under the counter before allowing Jake to lead you away.

The new girl approached the bar, resting her tray on the bar as she watched you walk away arm in arm, Jake leaning down to place a heated kiss to your lips before slapping your ass. "Hey, what the fuck?" she asked with indignation and growing curiosity. She had wanted to be the one to go home with the handsome aviator.

Penny snickered, "That's just the Seresins, you'll get used to 'em, honey.”