#the motherfucking fucking one who calls the shots

[woozapooza]

Of all the opinions I’ve seen on The Sopranos since I started watching it last year, one of the ones I hate the most is the idea that Richard and Elliot are ultimately proven “right” about Tony. Richard and Elliot do not know Tony! They have never talked to him! And they are literally, factually, not right about him, especially Richard. In “Tennessee Moltisanti,” Richard—who knows nothing about Tony except that you shouldn’t use anti-Italian slurs around him—tells Melfi that eventually she’ll get past “moral relativism” and reach “good and evil. And he’s evil.” Later in that episode, in the family therapy scene, he says that Melfi acknowledged that, in her last encounter with Tony, she saw his “subhuman” side, a word I am 100% sure Melfi herself did not use because come on. Elliot at least doesn’t use these words, but he doesn’t see any good in Tony and consistently acts like Melfi is deluding herself by holding out hope for him. (I’m not going to get into The Blue Comet in this post for the sake of keeping it concise.) But Melfi has seen that Tony has compassion and a conscience, and so have we in the audience. We know more than Richard and Elliot, and so does she!

Now, Tony is obviously not a good person by any means. I think even Melfi would agree with that. But he is a person who, despite his harsh upbringing, despite the machismo and brutality his position demands, still has a tiny spark of tenderness and compassion inside him. That's what makes him so compelling! Of course he was never going to change for the better, because that’s not the kind of show this is. But that is a statement about The Sopranos, a fictional show made by writers who have a certain artistic vision in mind. It does not mean that Tony as a person—i.e., viewed from in-universe—had no choices, that he could never have changed for the better at all, that he was a destined to be a waste of Melfi's time. It's fair to disagree with Melfi's approach to treating Tony, but the idea that both she and the audience are fools for thinking that a human being who has been shaped into a villain by forces beyond his control is still a human being, with all the value and responsibilities that entails, is so fucking r/im14andthisisdeep it makes my skin crawl.

I realize this post is kind of dramatic, and partly that’s because, well, I’ve just always been the sort of person who gets really dramatic about her blorbos, but it’s also because I hate the brutally cynical, weirdly black-and-white worldview that’s implicit in this reading of the show. I hate it so much!!! The Sopranos is very realistic about the limits of what willpower can do, but it’s also very realistic about portraying its protagonist as someone deeply human: someone with a capacity for both evil and good, who does bad things and justifies them by pretending he didn’t have a choice, but I never bought it, and neither did Melfi. Tony cannot simply stop being a mob boss and start being a saint any more than he can simply stop being depressed, but he does have good in him, and he does have the capacity to make better choices, otherwise the story is utterly pointless!!! 

This has been on my mind because I read Emily Nussbaum’s article about the finale, in which she describes Richard and Elliot as “hard to listen to but essentially correct,” and sorry Emily, I think you’re very smart and a good writer, but my god, I hate this article. To me, it boils down to “the finale was Chase scolding us for empathizing with and caring about Tony” which is not at all how I see the show, and thank goodness, because I think it would be pretty ridiculous to spend eight years telling the story of a deeply human, deeply relatable character and then be like “lol wait, you guys related to him? Cringe! Hashtag society” or whatever. She says that in the final half season, Tony “was becoming his real self: the empty golem.” Seriously? The version of Tony who’s had most of his humanity sapped from him is his “real self”? SERIOUSLY? Okay. I’m gonna go calm down now. I promise. (I actually have one other point I want to make related to the Richard-and-Elliot thing, but I’ll save that for another post because this one is looooong.) I'd just like to close this post with this comment that I've posted here before and will probably post again because I love it so much and it makes me tear up whenever I think of it:

[slaygentford]

the thing about the sopranos is that you never feel like anyone is acting even when youre watching Silvio so now in every other show you watch youre like oh yeah theyre acting. I see the other person in there. and once again I say I could be watching the sopranos rn

[nkogneatho]

Y'all know those insecure girlfriends on tiktok when their boyfriend does their makeup accurately, they go “what bitch taught you that?” yeah, Gojo is the male version of that.

He knows he is attractive, and that everyone dotes on him. But you look out of this world. Everybody wants you. Like all of his friends have tried to hit on you a few times. They said it's just playful, but his insecurities kicked in.

One evening, you showed up to one of his totally unserious basketball games with his homies, cheering him every time he dunks.

“Suguru, my girl's watchin'. Gotta show off a bit, yeah?” he smirks, licking his lips his reflexes were so good that barely anyone else could keep up with him. It was like he had drank 10 liters of energy drink with the sudden speed boost.

You hopped in his arms when the match was over, peppering his face with kisses as he enjoyed his victory, showing a middle finger to suguru to which he rolled his eyes.

“you look so cool when you jump so high, toru!” you squealed in happiness. He really did look cool.

“hehe, you liked that, baby? Jumped a little higher just for you.” he kissed your forehead.

“hate to say it, but he is undefeated.” suguru spoke up. “feel like we need to put you on the court, y/n just to distract him so we can win.” your cheeks started burning up at that. You and satoru have been dating for a few months, but you were still not used to the way everyone talks about him as if he's a simp for you. well, he is and should be.

“i would still win though.” your eyes shifted to gojo. You were a little offended at that, even though it was just messing around. It was his habit.

“alright. Let's have a 1v1” the men did not miss the shift of your tone. Suguru knew satoru might be in trouble, while the white haired wasn't worrying about it too much. Because you're not too savvy with basketball aside from what he's taught you, and he is a pro. Sure, you would be mad later, but nothing he can't make up to you.

The boys spread in corners, as you and gojo exchanged a competitive gaze—yours was competitive and his was more of a “i love when you get riled up”—before the match began. The game was not anything serious, so all you had to do was score five points. It was a piece pf cake for gojo but you were being surprisingly competitive. You scored two points just as soon as he did. His homeboys thought that gojo was going easy on you but suguru knew he was struggling. But he lives up to his name and score two points, making him just 1 score away from his sweet victory. There's no way you can win now. If you miss this chance, it's over. But you remembered something someone had taught you and all that “i'd still win though” just pumped up enough adrenaline and oh. my. god.

Gojo's jaw dropped as you shot a three pointer, your lips widening into an evil grin, and all the boys cheered at your win. You were sure they're gonna tease him about today until eternity. Toru was impressed…well, for a few seconds before he hit you with a,

“which motherfucker taught you that? because I don't remember teaching you this yet.” you were laughing but his reaction was genuine.

“hey, c'mon now. don't call me a motherfucker.” suguru slid in, a hand resting on gojo's arm. “i'm a good teacher, aren't I?” he winked at you.

“the fuck? When the fuck did you teach her?”

“last week when we were playing at toji's party.” gojo was too busy playing beer bong at that time.

“thank you, suguru. And you…" you looked at your man, "where is allat “but I'd still win though” attitude?” you mocked him.

“ight fine. you got me. i was just messin' around and ya'know that. don't get mad at me, baby,” he snaked an arm around your waist. “we're both winners. We gotta celebrate properly, right?” he leaned closer to your ears.

“now let's see who wins in the bedroom, tonight. hmm? You know i gotta settle the score, princess.”

[unstable-samurai]

Breathing This Calm Night - smut

Yunjin x Male Reader

ONE-SHOT

Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship

A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion 🫡

The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.

But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.

I'm arriving

You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.

Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.

After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.

At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.

You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.

She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.

"Better now, honey. What about you?"

"The same!"

"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.

"Yeah, definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued: “In the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.”

"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."

Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.

"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."

"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."

Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:

"Is it because of me?”

"Yes." you answered honestly. “Well, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."

"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."

"Well, i think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"

The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."

"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"

She started to unwrap it.

"Hope you like."

You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).

"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."

"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."

You saw her eyes light up.

"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.

You shrugged.

"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.”

She laughed.

"I'm still going to make you read one of these."

"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. If for me it's average, for you it will be a masterpiece."

★

It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really delicious), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.

You took off your shoes while Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.

“Will you be my teddy bear tonight?” she asked sweetly. “I need your affection so much, baby.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie.” You said as you kissed her on the neck.

Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.

“Look, we still need to shower.” she said.

"No problem." you answered.

“You're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.”

“And since when has this been a problem for me?” you asked as you led her to the couch.

You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.

Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive… Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.

“I love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!” she moaned.

At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.

“I want to feel your cock inside me now.” she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, “Wait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Let’s save time, what do you think?”

Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:

“Fuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.”

You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.

And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.

“Oh God, Baby! I’m cumming!”

She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.

You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.

“Hang me, love.” she asked affectionately.

Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.

Holy shit! You were almost there.

You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.

But you have an idea.

“Stand up, sweetie” you said. “Let’s try something new.”

Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.

“Get in the shower stall with me.” you asked, opening the door.

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that you’ve never given me a tightjob, I think it’s time we tried it.”

She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.

You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.

“Oh baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.

"I love you." You said to her.

The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.

"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. “Baby, you don’t know how much.”

“This took longer than expected. Let’s take our shower.”

“Yep! Let's go."

You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?

“Hey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.” Yunjin said with a cutie smile.

Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.

A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors 😅

[jkslipppiercing]

Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk

♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?

♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.

♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙

♧ WC: 1.6K

♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee

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JK's POV

She whines,

Throws tantrums,

Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,

And I still want her lips around my cock.

Why?

That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.

I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.

She ruined my night.

I was fucking.

Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.

But then, she just had to cock-block me.

My best friend’s sister.

Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.

Usually, I love brats.

My type.

They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.

Keyword: try.

Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.

Fucked right and put in her place.

Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.

Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.

She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.

Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.

When I first met her, I mean.

She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.

Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.

Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.

Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.

He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.

He's a friend. A close one.

A tolerable one.

That can't be said about a certain someone, though.

She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.

Bullshit.

And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.

Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.

Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.

That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.

His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.

Sly motherfucker.

Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.

Annoyingly soft features.

So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.

But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.

It's her innocence.

How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?

When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.

She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.

I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.

Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.

Fuck, I hate this woman.

Hate everything about her.

How she moves.

How she walks.

How she fucking talks.

Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.

No- not like- is.

She is a brat.

A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.

Including mine.

Fuck.

Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.

She's enjoying herself.

Not for long.

I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.

I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.

I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.

He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.

Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.

Ew.

He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.

Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.

My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.

My blood boils.

White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.

My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.

Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.

Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.

Isn't she here with friends?

How could they leave her alone like this?

Her brother's here. Her brother is here.

My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.

Fuck.

I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.

Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?

Like she's not even aware of where she is.

Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.

Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.

I might punch a wall.

My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.

She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.

It's adorable.

But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.

Repress.

"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."

She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.

My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.

My breathing turns heavy again.

Repress.

"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.

His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.

Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.

"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.

She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.

If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?

I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-

Repress.

My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.

"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.

Good. Bare minimum.

I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.

Almost.

But I have to get Y/N home.

I can't stand this anymore.

I can't stand her anymore.

Coming here alone? Dressed like that?

I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.

How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?

I'm so goddamn confused.

And infuriated.

And...angry.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.

Fuck me.

The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.

But again, Y/N's more important.

I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.

My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.

I might develop heart problems.

A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.

I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.

I have other things to care for.

Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.

God, It's gonna be a long night.

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotes @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell

next

did you like it 👀

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[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ toji fushiguro x his favorite customer (revision)

✧ summary toji has a little soft spot for his favorite customer that he can't get enough of.

✧ content warnings reader is a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. chubby!reader and inexperienced!reader. rich girl in her midtwenties, very needy! usage of profanity, standing missionary, oral - m!receiving, doggy style, mixture of praise and degradation kink, breeding kink, unprotected, creampie and squirting, terms of endearment ─ pretty girl, princess, baby, baby girl, etc. softdom!toji with rough, passionate, and filthy intercourse. told in first POV ─ toji's. i got reader calling toji TJ, and i think that’s so cute pls.

✧ author's note happy birthday to my baby daddy toji fushiguro! we've been going strong now for years. just a little something something to celebrate him. this fic has been in the drafts since December. talk about black people time, old sksk. also, if you already seen the original of this fic on tumblr, it's mine lol. this is just a revision, so don't go around saying i copied someone! my writing has changed so i wanted to redo this and add some adjustments. i hope y'all enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. ♡ AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND/OR MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 

 When it comes to women I fuck, I treat them the same because at the end of the day, they pay me good money to stuff their pussy with cock. 

 Don’t really care if they're married either. I usually get the old, desperate broads that aren’t getting any attention from their husbands at home, so it’s my job to make them feel good for the night. 

 I don’t do favorites. 

 I damn sure don’t give discounts. 

 And I definitely don’t get attached. But the moment I met Y/N that all changed. 

 My favorite customer. 

 Never did I expect a younger woman to pay me to get fucked, especially when she looks that good. 

 I’m almost positive she has a line filled with fuckers that’s desperately wanting to know what this tight, wet pussy feels like, yet here I am, living their fantasy. 

 I fucked Y/N once. 

 Then, twice. 

 Then, again.

 And again.

 And again…

 If I didn’t know any better, I’m fucking obsessed with her. Can’t even say it’s just for the money she’s paying me. Probably the best pussy I ever had.

 No. 

 It is. 

 So fucking warm, and she takes dick well, too. I usually give only an hour or two to my customers, but for Y/N? I reserved the whole night to relish her pussy. 

 The perfect fuck to end my day. 

 Those soft, sweet-sounding moans that slipped through her full brown and pink lips, having my previous cum shot staining them had me running wild. 

 But it seems like I’m not the only one who’s sex drunk. 

 Cock is all on Y/N’s mind right now. Whimpering and crying how big I am and thanking me for giving her dick. Tears pricks those chestnut-colored hues and I’m in fucking awe. She’s so damn pretty. 

 “You know how gorgeous you look taking cock like this? Being a good fucking slut for me, princess?” I ask, being met with a nod and her moaning in response. 

 Y/N’s pussy talks to me. Wet noises spreading throughout the room while I have my arms hooked under the fold of her knees, fucking her recklessly to push past any intrusion. 

 She’s jumping with me every thrust I make, causing her tits to bounce obnoxiously. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck on them like it’s my last dying breath, hearing that sweet whimper. 

 I belong in Y/N’s pussy, and she belongs to me, too, the way she’s gripping my cock and milking me. All of her cream and wetness drips between us and down my balls, and it feels fucking amazing. Every time I experience her velvet walls, I find myself becoming more animalistic, hungry and territorial over someone who should only be seen as a client. 

 But fuck, something in me says I would go batshit crazy if I ever found out she had other motherfuckers experiencing this. 

 Knowing how she looks when sweat coats her beautiful brown skin. How it feels to stretch her out and make her adjust to you. Just thinking about it makes me pound into her deeper and more aggressively. 

 “Toji, baby, yes. This feels so good,” she purrs. “Like that. Keep fucking me like that.”

 I hum. “Yeah? This is what you wanted, right? Paid me to please this good pussy?”

 By all means, Y/N isn’t a virgin, but she told me she doesn’t have much experience and I can tell by how tight she is. 

 Our sounds of pleasure resonate in the air, and I call her my good girl, praising how perfect her pussy is, to be met with her squeezing me and watery brown eyes. 

 “Toji… Toji… Yes. God, yes.”

 “Keep using your words, pretty girl. Tell me how much you love my dick in your pussy,” I ordered softly.

 “I love it so much. It’s so big, baby,” she tells me, slurring her words because of her lips still being on mine. “You’re going to make me cum.”

 I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. “Not yet. Come taste yourself.”

 Without hesitation, Y/N slides down to her knees and starts sucking my dick. I hiss at her swallowing me and the warmth of her mouth. She doesn’t take her time when sucking me off, immediately circling her head and throating me. 

 “Hot fucking mouth made to suck dick, huh, pretty girl?” I firmly grabbed her chin so she could look at me. “Eyes up, sweetheart. Open up your throat for me like a good girl.” 

 Y/N hollows her cheeks and bobs her head fervently on my dick, tightening her lips around me. 

 She sucks dick so fucking good, better than any other woman I’ve been with. And I just know I’m bound to bust quickly if she keeps doing this shit. 

 My hand finds the back of Y/N’s head to grip and I buck my hips deeper into her mouth, ensuring I hit the back of her throat everytime. I’m a fucking mad man when I begin fucking the gorgeous face, especially when she’s looking up at me with those big brown eyes. 

 A spoiled brat, prim and shy, who’s spending daddy’s money to get fucked and folded by an old bastard like me. Think I fucking developed a kink for this type because of Y/N.

 I pumped into her mouth more aggressively until she began choking and gagging on my cock. Drool and precum coating her mouth in the process. 

 Any type of control Y/N tries to take, I push past it because I want to use that pretty little mouth of hers how I want. She needs to get her money’s worth when fucking with me. 

 “Going to fuck my cum deep down that throat of yours, and you’re going to swallow it. Got that?” She nods and I softly tap the side of her face. “That’s it. Keep those lips tight around me.” 

 “Toji, pl—please,” she slurs, causing me to chuckle. 

 “Hm, look at you. Trying so hard to talk to me while sucking my dick. It’s cute.” I slow down my quick thrusts, but replace them with more fervent ones, pushing me and her head down until my cock outlines her throat. 

 My balls grow heavy and obnoxiously slaps Y/N’s chin, a clear indication I’m about to fucking cum. 

 Grunting, whining, gasping like a little bitch for air because head like this has a fucker like me sounding like a broken mess. 

 Blood rushes to my groin and I start getting sloppy, feeling my muscles tightening and ache burning between my thighs. I’m close, so fucking close to filling her mouth with my release, then I can finish fucking that fat pussy. 

 Everything about this damn woman is perfect. Her pussy. How she sucks cock. That fucking chubby and curvy body of hers. A pretty face with loaded cash.

 Yeah, she’s definitely mine after tonight. And I’m talking about anything lovey dovey. Meaning if I catch her being a slut like this to anyone else, I’d kill that fucker. 

 No hesitation. I-

 “Y/N, fuck!” I grunt while cumming in her mouth. This load is fucking heavy, but she’s trying her best to swallow every drop. 

 I groan at the sight of Y/N touching her tits and palming her pussy, knowing how much she’s turned on, too. It’s like the vibrations of her moans pulls more cum out my fucking dick.

 A mess I made on her face, but the joyful lust I see in her eyes tells me she doesn’t give a damn. 

 Good, because I’m not finished with her. 

 “All fours on the bed. Now,” I demanded. “Still gotta fill up your pussy.”

 Perfection is what I think when I see Y/N from behind, arched back, ass in the air and pussy dripping, ready for me to fuck. 

 I force an arch in her back and plunge my cock in her tight little pussy with one deep stroke. Y/N gasps in the air and I take the opportunity to pull her up by the throat and start pounding her cunt. 

 Why the fuck is she so goddamn wet? She takes cock well, bud shit, I abruptly slip out each and every thrust. 

 “Keep me inside that pussy, baby girl. Stop fucking letting go,” I gritted in her ear. She reaches behind her to hold my dick and push back into me with a tighter grip. “Hm, just like that. So fucking good to me, aren’t you?”

 “I need more dick, TJ. Fuck me harder, baby. I can take you,” she moans. 

 Begging for cock she’s already paying for… Shit, I get a kick out of how pathetically sexy she sounds. 

 I repeatedly slammed into her wet cunt, thrust after thrust, pussy creaming even further than before. If it’s one thing I can listen to for the rest of my life, it’s how Y/N sounds when she’s being fucked. 

 My name drips perfectly from her lips.

 Our skin smacking fills the air in the room along my hand striking her ass until I guarantee it’ll bruise in the morning. 

 “Look at this fat ass moving when I pound into this pussy. Fucking beautiful,” I growled.

 “Toji, please. I… I don’t care how much… I’ll pay more. Just keep fucking me like this.”

 I chuckle. “Atta girl.”

 I see why motherfuckers catch feelings when fucking pussy. I almost feel tempted to tell Y/N that I love her while fucking her. She has pussy that’ll make a fucker crazy… Possessive… Jealous.

 I applied more pressure to Y/N’s throat and pulled her against my chest. “You know who this pussy belongs to. Right, princess?”

 “God, yes, Toji. You… it belongs to you.” Her voice comes off as a faint cry and I know she’s on the verge of cumming. Especially with how her pussy is pulsating around me. 

 “Mhm, that’s right. Dreamed of my fucking dick pounding this tight little cunt, now I have you mindfucked. Huh?” I pinch her nipples with my free hand and increase my thrusts. “You’re about to come for me. Aren’t you, Y/N? I know you are. I can feel it. You should see the mess your slutty pussy is making between us.”

 “Fuck, I didn’t mean to, baby. It’s just… you feel good. So fucking good,” she whimpers, bouncing her ass back into me to meet with my thrusts. 

 “Maybe I should have you clean it with your mouth. Hm?”

 I release Y/N’s throat to shove her face into the bed and deepen her arch more than before. My single hand returns to her hips to grip, pulling her round ass back on my cock to kiss her center. 

 Can’t get over how wet—how tight and warm this fucking pussy is. The harder I fuck her, the louder her pussy gets and I grunt, curse underneath my breath at hearing the sound of her muffled moans. 

 I don’t give a fuck if one of us catches feelings after this. Actually, I want her to. I want Y/N to be dick hungry only for me. 

 I want her pussy to smell like I’m the only fucker that’s been running through her. I’m even fucking tempted to breed this pussy just so she’s mine.

 Why the fuck would I want to have sex with any other women after knowing what Y/N feels like? 

 “You take cock like a fucking pro. Look at you gripping me. Look at how this pussy is mine.”

 She spreads her ass cheeks to feel every inch of my dick. “Fuck me, Toji. Harder. Fuck me harder, I’m about to cum.”

 “Shit, me too, sweetheart. Such a perfect fuck toy. Going to fill you all the way up,” I rasped. “Fuck me back. Keep taking this dick.”

 My thrusts are sloppy. I throw my head back and swear into the air and moan her name. My balls grow heavier and heavier until I fucking but and empty my cum inside her pussy. 

 And she’s right there with me, crying my name and thanking me for giving her toe-curling orgasm. 

 Fucking enjoy hearing my pretty girl thank me for giving her cock. She just looks so damn pretty when she cums, too. 

 Dark brown skin sweating. The sight of her ruined makeup with mascara running down her cheeks. Moans sounding like a broken record. 

 Yeah, she’s a perfect fuck. 

 My favorite customer. 

© 2024 tojiscumdumpster Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost (sharing links is okay) anywhere. I only upload on tumblr and you will find some of my work in ao3.

[dumbseee]

rumours, part two.

part one.

jude bellingham x influencer!reader.

fc: nailea devora.

_

groupchat: it girls 💕

larray:

ain’t no way you’re dating jude fucking bellingham and haven’t told us

y/n:

larry istg i’ll cut your hair in your sleep if you keep believing those DUMB rumours

oliviarodrigo:

girl

he’s hot asf why don’t you shoot your shot?

y/n:

with a footballer?

hell fucking no

these guys don’t know what being faithful to one person means

and i’ve heard plenty of shit about this jude guy

larray:

yeah me too tbh

y/n:

i’m not getting involved with him, period.

larray:

okay but what about his teammates?

y/n:

larry.

larray:

DO IT FOR ME

_

liked by judebellingham, yourbestie, larray and 789 928 others.

y/n: girls night 🥂

_

fan1: JUDE LIKED???

fan2: is she lying to us?? bc why would he like her posts now?

fan3: I JUST CHECKED AND HE’S FOLLOWING HER NOW TOO

fan4: maybe she lied to protect their privacy?? that would make sense tbh

fan5: you look so good 😍

fan6: she’s such a baddie omg, jude i get it now

fan7: didn’t know who she was before the whole jude drama but omg i love her

fan8: LEAVE JUDE ALONE YOU FREAK

fan9: petition for jude’s groupies to leave y/n alone

fan10: MOTHER

fan11: y/n please do another grwm i’m obsessed with your videos

fan12: how to be like her, she’s hot asf and has THEE jude bellingham at her feet

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

wtf is wrong with you?

i told you to tell your fangirls to leave me alone and what are you doing? you LIKE my posts and you follow me now?

leave me alone, jude.

judebellingham:

you looked good

you always look good*

are you free, tomorrow night?

y/n:

can’t you READ?

LEAVE. ME. ALONEEEEE.

or i’m pressing charges on you hoe.

judebellingham:

so it’s a yes?

i’ll send you the tickets and my jersey, someone will come pick you up, what’s your address?

y/n:

wtf

what do you mean?

judebellingham:

we’re playing against sevilla and i want you to come

y/n:

we don’t even know each other tf??

is that how you get all those girls to get obsessed with you?

that ain’t gonna work with me, boy.

judebellingham:

hm, i like you already.

y/n:

well, i hate you.

judebellingham:

haha

turns me on, love it.

y/n:

i am BLOCKING you

_

i hate him. i fucking hate him. who does he think he is? making me come see him to his stupid game, what am i, his mother? seriously i could’ve stayed at home, binge-watching the twilight movies like i do every year. now i have to go to his fucking football game, it’s going to be so nosy, damn it. and before you ask me, YES i am getting ready and i am wearing his jersey. not because i want to, but i know that i won’t hear the end of it if i don’t do it. yeah, i’m doing it because he’s forcing me, no other reason.

like jude said, someone did pick me up to take me to the bernabeu stadium, and i can’t believe i’m doing this. the venue is full of fans wearing either their real madrid jerseys or their sevilla jerseys. i can see men, women, kids, elderly people, they’re all here to have fun and support their favourite team and i have to admit that it’s a cute sight. let’s just hope that they don’t kill each other’s at the end of the match. i’m quickly escorted to the vip section, where friends, family and important people would seat for the game.

"oh my god, is that y/n?" a voice called from behind, i closed my eyes shut, fuck, and walked faster, i should’ve wore a mask to hide my face. if anyone picture me in this stadium with that motherfucker’s jersey on, it would end my career and i’m half exaggerating.

thank god, the vip section was secluded from the other people. the game started and i had to admit that it was fun to watch when you weren’t really supporting anyone. no stress, just having fun watching men run after a ball, just like dogs. jude was actually good, i never looked him up on the internet to watch his performances, i just knew he was the internet’s favourite whore and girls were thirsting over him. he was good looking, of course, no one could deny that, but more than anything he was annoying as fuck. i surprised myself, cheering for him when he scored a goal, what was wrong with me.

real madrid was actually leading the game with two goals against one. jude’s teammate passed the ball to him and he scored his third goal of the match. okay now, why did this motherfucker just point at the crowd, more specifically towards me? people turned around to see where he was pointing at, but thankfully they couldn’t see me. my heart definitely sank when he did that though, seriously what is wrong with this guy! it was a cute gesture, yes, but we weren’t dating and i promised myself to never date an athlete, tried it once and promised to never doing it again. jude was everything i hated in a man, he was reckless, cocky, full of himself and he knew he was hot. nothing worse than a guy who knows he’s handsome.

_

"how was i?" he asked, this big smile plastered on his face, i wish i could tear it off his face. "fine, i guess." jude made a weird face and put his hands on his hips. "fine? y/n, i was more than fine and you know it, scored three goals and they were all for you." he blew me a kiss and i swore i was about to knock him out. "yeah about that, someone could’ve seen me!" i said, slapping his arm, making him laugh. "darling, that’s what i wanted." okay, the way he was looking at me may or may have not made my heart skip a beat. "jude, i’m starting to believe that the fans gaslighted you into thinking we’re already dating." he laughed, making my cheeks heat up just a bit. "i just want to give the fans what they want to see." he shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders to start walking out of the changing room. i imediatly pushed his arm away and speed walked in front of him to hide my red cheeks. of course, the bitch was laughing at me, running to catch me and poking my cheeks to mock me. "aww, you’re blushing? i thought you hated me, darling." i put my hands on my cheek. "fuck you! it’s just hot in here!" "it’s literally minus two degrees, y/n."

_

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, oliviarodrigo and 890 918 others.

y/n: maybe football isn’t so bad 🙄

_

judebellingham: like the view? 👀

y/n: shut up.

fan1: SHE POSTED JUDE???

fan2: Y/N DID YOU LIE TO US???

y/n: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS GUYS OMG

judebellingham: for now* 🫢

y/n: jude istg…

fan3: OMGBSJSOSLSLMDMSLZ WTF

fan4: i am literally shitting bricks what the FUCK

fan5: i love the banter lmao they’re fun

fan6: i ship it tbh

fan7: y/n being a wag for 2024 omg

fan8: i love how she’s fighting it but we all know how it’s going to end

fan9: Y/N NOOOOOO NOT A FOOTBALLER

oliviarodrigo: well, well, well 👀

y/n: please not you too

larray: will you look at THAT

y/n: LARRY SHUT UP IM BEGGING

fan10: lmaoo even her friends are ratting her out

fan11: #savey/n

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID YOU REALLY DM POP BASE TO TALK ABOUT US???

judebellingham:

mmh, i don’t know what you’re talking about

y/n:

jude bellingham.

judebellingham:

okay maybe i did

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THEY’D RAT ME OUT LIKE THAT

y/n:

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

judebellingham:

anyways it’s not a big deal tbh

are you free tonight?

y/n:

no.

judebellingham:

nice, i’ll come pick you up at 9 <3

y/n:

are you BLIND?

i said no bitch

judebellingham:

suddenly i can’t read.

_

liked by judebellingham, larray, sabrinacarpenter and 901 927 others.

y/n: get you a man who eats his spaghettis with his hands 😍

_

judebellingham: i wonder who is this gentleman 🫢

y/n: yeah i wonder too 🙄

fan1: pls not jude carrying y/n’s purse

fan2: they’re so cute stop

fan3: my favourite couple

fan4: PARENTS

fan5: lmao i bet jude is the one who begged her to be his gf

y/n: yes.

fan6: JAISOSPXLD’´S

view all comments.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Details.

For @the-californicationist's “Cali’s Nameless Challenge” writing challenge!

(Remember to leave your guess of who this is about in the comments!)

[ Challenge Masterlist ]

words: 560 (pushed it a little SORRY). cw: MDNI!, smut(tish), piv, terms of endearment (including daddy), you/your pronouns, afab!reader

You've heard the recruits talking. They always do when they don't think anyone's listening. They're very judgmental, these kids. Makes you wanna go particularly hard on them during training when you remember the way they gossip.

They're always always talking about others, like school children, disrespecting their commanding officers, talking about their hair (head, facial and otherwise), their habits (smoking, drinking), their personal lives (or what they expect them to be), and, of course, their body types.

Their most recent victim, or, at least, the one you've heard referred to most often, is one you didn't expect. They know better than to mention someone like that, or, at least, you hoped they did.

Sure, he's not very intimidating looking, average height, average weight. His voice doesn't ring out through the halls whenever he's pissed and reaming out some recruit or soldier that serves beneath him.

But that should be more of a reason for them to fear him, not a reason for them to speak about him.

They lack the life/career experience to realize that bigger/louder doesn't always equal scarier.

Soldiers like you, like him, don't get where you are, at your age, without being a scary motherfucker, ready to shoot someone right between their eyes, only to then turn around and go have lunch as if nothing's happened. Especially not here.

But maybe you're biased.

After all, you notice the details about him.

The way his voice coos gently, softly, politely, full of understanding and care whenever he speaks to the soldiers around him.

The way his hands are calloused and rough, long fingers with cracked skin around the fingertips and knuckles.

The way his arms, ever hairy, despite rarely on display, cross over his chest when he's paying his full attention to people speaking to or around him.

The way his thick brows scrunch judgmentally when he hears someone say something stupid.

The way he leans back on window sills and balcony railings to light his cigarettes.

The way he looks at you, those big brown eyes all soft and fond, too gentle for a man that regularly trades shots with criminals.

The way he smiles and half-smirks, especially when you press your nose to his cheek, and pepper his moles with kisses.

The way his eyes, weighed down by deep eye bags, flutter over you whenever you lower yourself onto his leaky cock, your ass bouncing off his thighs with fervor.

The way he purrs words of praise in your ear while he fucks you from behind, his hands pushing down on your lower back, his body curled over yours to whisper in your ear.

The way he calls your name, first, middle, last, your rank too.

The way he uses terms of endearment.

"That's it, princess."

"Doing so well for me, baby girl."

"That feels good, doesn't it, pretty girl."

"Don't be too loud, can't let people hear how good I'm making you feel, heart."

"Just like that, moan for daddy, cutie."

What do those stupid fucking kids know? Nothing.

If only they could see him the way you do. But they can't. He doesn't want anyone to know the way he looks under his uniform.

All the better too... Easier to surprise people by how much of a punch he packs with a single haymaker.

Not to mention, you're not keen on sharing.

[nastyaromatherapy]

Footlong (18+)

Ethan, a boy you bullied in highschool, sees you at a frat party and is hungry for revenge.

saw (this fic) and was like damn, i need an extended version of this.

pairing - dom!ethan landry x bully!reader

one shot length, 1.9k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, creampie, mentions of sh, degradation, tara reader and quinn are all bitches, big dick ethan

“Ethan? Please. I bet he’s never even held hands with a girl.” You quipped to Tara when his name aroused in a game of Fuck Marry Kill. Quinn quickly disagreed, “I bet- No, I know he’s packing. Haven’t you seen the outline in his khakis?” You internally bleh-ed at her wandering eyes. “Quinn, you fucking horndog,” you joked, leaning back in your chair and contemplating the original question: Fuck Mary Kill, Chad, Ethan, Frankie. “Fuck Chad, Marry Ethan, Kill that motherfucker Frankie.”

“Swap Ethan and Chad, then agreed,” Quinn said. Suddenly Ethan walked in in the khakis Quinn was talking about earlier, finding his seat in the back of the class. “Speak of the devil,” Tara tsked. “Yo, Ethan,” you called out. His eyes flickered up to meet yours before quickly dropping back down. “C’mon, why the long face? I heard only fans should be back up tonight, and I’m sure the ladies miss you as much you miss them,” you fake pouted. He just rolled his eyes and focused on copying down notes he borrowed from some friends.

“Ethan!” Tara called out to him, only this time he didn’t look up. “Don’t mind y/n, she’s just nervous. She wants to invite you to her party tonight, wants to see this ‘big dick’ everyone’s gassing.” You smirked and found Tara’s comment as a perfect opening. “Yeah, Ethan, that true? That you hide a footlong in your khakis?” You asked him condescendingly, a flush already flooding his cheeks. “Oh, Ethan,” Quinn gasped, grabbing on the sides of her desk to rock it. “It’s too big, I can’t take it,” she moaned artificially.

Ethan slouched in his seat, wanting to be as far as possible from here.

He was though, he slouched in his seat on the couch at the frat party, beer can in hand. He saw you dancing with some of your friends who he’s never seen before, having not seen you since Highschool. Oh would vengeance be sweet.

He waited until you walked into the kitchen for a drink so that he could approach you without distractions. “Y/n l/n,” he said with false surprise, making you turn around with a gasp. He grew taller, his hair was more put together, he was just hotter. “What a surprise,” he smirked. “Footlong!” You smiled, the name stemming from the joke from 12th grade. “Ethan- sorry. Old habits die hard,” you said. “It’s all good just, surprised to see you here,” he spoke.

“You’re taller!” You said awkwardly, gesturing your hands towards his figure. “Yeah, I guess canceling all those only fan subscriptions helped me grow,” he joked self deprecatingly, sadly smiling. You sighed, hating apologizes. “Oh, yeah sorry about all that. It was just a joke,” you said in the most tone deaf way possible. “Hey I mean, at least those were all rumors. It’s not like it came out that I had a threesome with Paul Keene and his cousin and it turned out to be very true.” Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips twisted into a snaky expression.

“Yo what the fuck is your problem?” You asked him as your temper rose. “Just taking a trip down memory lane,” he smirked before taking a sip of his beer, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You looked at him with utter disgust for his remarks about the past. “Okay, my bad. You have gotten sexier though,” he said, empty hand reaching for your side.

You inched closer, giving into his touch. “Oh yeah?” You asked as you let his feel up your side. “Yeah,” he confirmed before finally landing a grip on your waist, pulling you in close. “You wanna dance?”

You led him to the dance floor to engage in some tipsy dancing. He wasn’t the best, was a little stiff, but you were there to help him out. You grinded on him as his hands rested at your hips. Ethan groaned as he felt his erection slowly growing as your ass rubbed against him.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing you by your wrist, and you complied to follow him up the stairs. He slammed you against the paneled wall and kissed you hungrily, groaning into your mouth. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a littler turned on by this, your stomach churning.

You slowly slipped your tongue into his mouth, moaning into the kiss as his hands reached to fumble with your tits.

“Fuck,” he said after pulling away, wiping the extra slobber on his face with his palm. He grabbed you by your hand this time, leading you into an empty bedroom, being quick to lock the door.

“So, Footlong,” you started while walking into the room. “We gonna test if the rumors true? And I’m gonna guess you’re a virgin. Sex isn’t the same as porn, and girls aren’t like those cam girls I know you like to watch. Just to let you know.” He grimaced at your words, seeing that you obviously haven’t changed at all.

“Sad to see you haven’t changed,” he said. “Still a bitch,” he said with a smirk. “A sexy bitch,” you said. “According to your words.” Ethan was quick to correct you, “I said you were sexier, not sexy.” Your expression quickly faltered. “God I can’t believe I kissed you. You probably have herpes,” he said while wiping a hand down his face. “I-I don’t-”

“You know I used to burn myself? Almost everyday after school?” He asked, completely shifting the mood. Your face filled with shock, up until now unaware. “Ethan- I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me-” “Cause it was none of your fucking business!” He yelled, making you inch back a bit. “Just like it was none of your fucking business saying those things to me, knowing what I already had going on in my life.” He said, referring to the death of Richie and his father’s coping mechanisms.

“But I know why you’re here, y/n. It’s not because you like me, it’s not because you want to make up, it’s because you’re a fucking loud mouthed whore.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but you just couldn’t.

As he stood he started to unbuckle his pants, letting them drop to his knees. Your eyes grew wide at the visible bulge in his boxers, maybe not 12 inches, but still huge. “What? You need a step by step tutorial?” He asked, eyeing your blank expression. His words made you quickly snap out of it and get down so your knees touched the cold wood.

You tugged his boxers down, allowing his dick to spring out. He shallowly hissed at the cold air. Your mouth watered at the sight, he was perfect. You eagerly took the tip of him, feeling the rumbles of his groans. “That’s it, shut up and take it,” he grunted, slowly thrusting himself deeper into your throat. You rested your hands on his inner thighs and moaned on his length, finding yourself extremely turned on.

“Is this gonna be our secret? Are you gonna be too embarrassed to admit to your friends that you got face fucked by Ethan Landry?” He asked, his thrusts growing more aggressive. Your eyebrows contorted upwards, and with every thrust your mouth made a wet clicking sound.

You continued moaning around him from the pleasure of being used, eyes now glossy and red. Ethan slipped his hand down and pulled his cock out of your mouth, making you sigh from disappointment. “Stick out your tongue,” he softly demanded, and you quickly complied. “That’s a good whore,” he groaned as he jerked himself off over your tongue. You found yourself reaching your tongue up, just for a little taste. “Does the slut want my cum?” He asked, growing close, face completely red. “Yes,” you moaned. “Beg for it.”

You pouted, hungry for his cum. “Please cum for me, Ethan. I want your cum s’bad!” You whimpered out. Ethan threw his head back as he shot his cum directly in your mouth, a little making its way onto your lips. You licked it off your lips sluttily before swallowing all of it. Ethan tilted his head slightly, “Not even a thank you?” He asked, annoyed. “Thank you,” you corrected.

He looked down at you on the floor, eyeing you still in the dress. “Turn around.” After you turned to face away from him, he unzipped your dress to help you take it off, taking his shirt off as well. He hooked your black thong in his fingers and moved them to the side, eyeing your glistening pussy. He spit on it before giving your ass a slap, making you yelp and bounce forward.

“Face down,” he ordered, making you lay your face down on the cool floor. He took his cock and rubbed it up and down your pussy, leading you to whimper. “Please fuck me, Ethan,” you moaned. He slapped your ass again, “Yeah, you want my cock, slut?” You nodded furiously. “Please, need your cock in me,” you whined, pushing your ass back in an attempt to gain more friction.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he slid into you, grabbing a hold of your waist. “Ethan!” You moaned out. Never in a million years would you ever think that Ethan fucking Landry would be stretching you out. “That’s it, take my cock,” he groaned, ego boosting from how much you enjoyed it, from how you whimpered on his dick and clenched around him.

“So big,” you whispered, which he picked up on. “Yeah? You love my big dick stretching you out?” You nodded in response. “Yes, fuck I love your cock, Ethan!”

He got so much pleasure out of watching you submit for him, the girl who tormented him for years just from her words, going dumb on his cock. “Mm, slap my ass again please, it felt s’good,” you slurred out. He smiled and was quick to comply, leaving a red mark on your cheek. “Slut love when I smack her ass?” He asked smugly. “Mhm,” you whimpered.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you struggled to find anything to grab onto, reaching for your discarded dress to scrunch in your hands. “Not gonna say anything bitchy?” He asked, thrusts growing deeper. “Where’d your confidence go? Fuck you’re pathetic,” he smirked. “Pathetic slut who likes getting her pussy ripped apart by absolutely anyone.” You moaned at his words, growing close as tears formed in your eyes.

“So close, Ethan,” you whined, your stomach twisting in the most pleasurable way. “Oh yeah? Beg for it,” he grunted, slamming into you harder. “Fuck- please let me cum Ethan, your cock feels s’good,” you begged, cunt squeezing his length so tight. “That’s a good fucking whore, cum on my cock,” he groaned. You released all over him, squirting for the first time.

The liquid spurted onto his thighs and the floor, making you feel somewhat humiliated. He continued to fuck you, having not came yet. You screamed from the overstimulation, moaning uncontrollably. “Fuck, oh fuck. Ethann,” you whined as he chased his own high.

“Fuck!” He groaned with one final slam, filling your cunt with his thick cum. He was quick to pull out and watch his cum slowly drip out of your pussy. “Come taste yourself,” he said. You shifted around and bent over to suck his dick, covered in a mix of yours and his cum. He cursed under his breath as you overstimulated his cock, grabbing your head and pushing you down on his length, throwing his head back, groaning as you deepthroated him. Then he lifted your head up to see your fucked out face, wet with sweat. “Be useful and open your legs.”

[shitouttabuck]

this could be the year for the real thing

buck/eddie | 1.7k | 7x06 coda(ish)

Eddie can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this horrifically hungover. His pre-teenage-pregnancy body bounced back blessedly quickly from tailgate parties and keg stands and beer pong tournaments, but after that? His cousins threw his bachelor party before he married Shannon, which involved a lot of mixed liquor, and then there were a couple miserable nights out after she left him, and now, last night, him and Buck the sole bachelor party members standing after Chim didn’t show up.

This is his worst hangover, because at least all the other times he wasn’t seized with worry about one of his closest friends and regret that he and Buck hadn’t noticed the empty hotel bed the night before. The nausea from hell doesn’t help, either.

Chim’s safe now, under the careful monitor of Cedars hospital staff and Maddie no more than three feet away from him at all times. The relief is a palpable thing, and Buck offering him a steaming paper cup of green tea soothes the churning in his gut a little bit, too.

He takes a sip and sighs gratefully, slumping against Buck in the hospital waiting room chairs when he takes the seat beside Eddie.

“Still queasy?” Buck asks, voice a rumble.

“Mm,” Eddie says, “back-to-back shots of tequila and sambuca are not it.”

Buck shudders beside him. “Don’t,” he begs, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I’m still very much in range of hurling.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eddie’d only managed half a banana when he went home to shower and change, but he knows Buck’s been with Maddie most of the day, and when it comes to taking care of other people, he sometimes forgets about himself.

“Had a granola bar,” Buck says, eyes still closed. “Can’t—don’t wanna think about food yet.”

His stomach chooses then to grumble audibly, with traitorously comedic timing, and Eddie snorts. Buck opens one eye to grin at him.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says, patting his belly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t, huh? Then I guess she’s not interested in stopping by the juice bar on Sunset on the way home? Some sweet, sweet smoothies, all that fresh fruit and hydration, don’t even have to chew…”

Buck’s stomach rumbles interestedly and they both laugh.

“That sounds—so good, actually,” Buck admits. “We can pick up the peanut butter one for Chris, he’s always hankering—”

He breaks off as Hen appears at the end of the hallway, looking around and hurrying over as soon as she spots them. Eddie doesn’t think anything’s wrong—she’s beaming—but he and Buck sit up quickly in their seats anyway.

“Ugh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s dizziness at the sudden movement wholeheartedly agrees.

“We’re having a motherfucking wedding,” Hen grins, tugging them both to their feet, uncaring of their delicate dispositions. “Right here, right now.”

“Hospital wedding?” Buck asks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, okay, what do we need—who do we call—fuck—”

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Hen smiles. “Just get friends and family over here, Karen’s gonna pick up Maddie’s dress, I’m gonna call Bobby, and we’re having a wedding.”

Buck’s already pulling up a copy of the guest list on his phone, squinting at it and muttering names under his breath.

“You boys got this?” Hen asks while dialling Bobby.

“Yep,” Eddie gives her a mock salute. “We’ll split the list and make some calls.”

He types out half the names Buck reads off to him in his notes app, and the two of them work through them methodically, calling Chim and Maddie’s nearest and dearest for this impromptu ceremony.

“Chris will kill us if he misses it,” he says suddenly, and Buck looks up at him, mid-text.

“He’s with Isabel, right? Pepa’s place is only a ten minute drive from here.”

Eddie nods. “I don’t have my car, though. You drove me.”

Buck tosses him the Jeep keys. “I’ll finish calling people, you go get them.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and nearly bodies himself with the instinctive urge to lean over and kiss Buck on the cheek as he stands. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, because it’s an urge he fought and failed about thirty times last night, Buck’s sweaty skin pressed to his, salty under his mouth every time he dropped an innocuous, friendly kiss to his face with nothing but alcohol in his veins.

It hadn’t seemed out of place then, everything shiny and bright, Buck leaning right back into him.

Now, under the fluorescents of the hospital, organising a makeshift wedding for their family? Eddie doesn’t think it would land quite the same.

“Back in twenty,” he tells Buck instead, and has to physically tear himself away from the smile Buck turns his way, warm and golden under the harsh lights.

Chris and Abuela are delighted to be included, and, true to his word, they’re back at the hospital as the rest of the guests begin arriving, too.

Eddie’s—okay, he’s not going to say he’s not a crier, it’s just that his best friend is Buck, who cries at anything remotely tearjerky, so in comparison, Eddie’s not a crier. Now, though, they’re both very much damp-cheeked, much like everyone else crowded into this hospital room, watching Maddie and Chim exchange rings and vows with little Jee between them.

They’re a family, have been and would still be even if they never got hitched, but the fact that Chim refused to wait another few weeks, another few days, another minute before marrying Maddie? Eddie’s chest aches in the best way, and he slings an arm around Chris, and, before he knows he’s doing it, he looks for Buck.

The ceremony’s over, and Buck’s grinning at his phone, and Eddie pats for his own automatically, anticipating a goofy text.

But Buck’s edging backward, slipping out of the room, still grinning at his phone, and the ache inside Eddie spreads like an inkstain, blotting his insides.

And then Buck reappears with Tommy, which Eddie knew he was going to do, because who else would have Buck smiling at his phone like that, leaving his sister’s wedding even for a minute. Not me, Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t.

He’s not ready to make sense of the churning inside him—he doesn’t think he can blame the hangover for this one—when he clocks Tommy’s soot-stained everything and the way Buck’s own smudgy face matches like a puzzle piece.

He sees the way Chim notices, and Hen and Karen, Bobby’s eyes going wide and then soft. He sees the way Margaret Buckley doesn’t even attempt to school her face into anything but distaste and he hates her, but Buck’s not even looking at her. He’s looking at Bobby, and then he’s looking at Chim, and he’s smiling, this wide, guileless spread of happiness across his face.

Eddie’s helpless to smile too, the churning too complicated to parse beyond easy joy at every step of Buck’s sexuality journey, and this second-hand relief he’s not sure he’s got any entitlement to—he doesn’t, does he? Sure, he can be relieved that Buck doesn’t feel like he has to stay closeted, that everyone who matters loves him just the same, but he doesn’t get to feel like any of the relief belongs to him. Not now.

Not—yet.

Tommy’s made his way to Chim’s bedside to congratulate them properly, and Buck’s squeezing through the guests to get to the Diazes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Chris. “Hi, Isabel.”

His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.”

Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat.

And beside the joy and the second-hand relief, there’s—this sense of profound loss. This emptiness, a space inside him he didn’t realise Buck had been occupying all this time. And now it’s like Eddie’s entered the room, finally, but the door is swinging shut on the far wall and Buck’s footsteps are echoing softer and softer as he leaves. Eddie’s late, he’s missed something he didn’t know was waiting, much less had a timeline on it.

The room empties out slowly, everyone giving the Buckley-Hans some space to rest, and Buck disappears down the hall hand-in-hand with Tommy.

“Y’all ready to go home?” Eddie asks Abuela and Chris. “We can get take-out.”

“Is Buck coming?” Chris asks.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie glances down the hall. “Although—” he pats his pocket, retrieving the Jeep keys, and startles when Buck appears by his shoulder.

“You have my keys,” he informs Eddie, stretching his hand out for them. Eddie drops them in his palm dutifully. “Juice bar? The fancy one on Sunset.”

Chris whoops excitedly, and Eddie smiles, even as his brow furrows.

“You’ve not got a hot date?” he asks Buck quietly as they walk to the exit.

“I drove you,” Buck shrugs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, stopping Buck with a hand at his elbow. “I think we can manage getting a cab.”

“I seem to recall you promising me a ‘sweet, sweet smoothie,’” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You tryna stiff me, Eds?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Uh—do you wanna ask Tommy along?”

“Nah,” Buck says easily. “Maybe another time. He’s just gotten off shift. I’m seeing him tomorrow, anyway.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods slowly, ache bittersweet. “Just us, then.”

Buck beams. “Me and my boys,” he crows, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him forward so he can wrap the other one around Chris. Isabel makes a noise of offense, and Buck hastily amends, “Me and my boys and Abuela. Dream team!”

Christopher groans at the very public embarrassment and Abuela smiles indulgently at Buck and Eddie lets himself get pulled along, safe in this room in his heart that won’t ever be empty, even if Buck’s not filling it in the same capacity as Eddie’s getting ready to allow himself to want.

It doesn’t matter. The door on the far wall’s not quite swung shut after all; it sits ajar, crack of light and Buck’s love spilling through. Maybe one day he’ll come back through it. Maybe one day Eddie’ll follow after him enough to ask.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter one: october 2019

summary: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you: carmy, the recently promoted chef du cuisine at the best restaurant in the world, has no idea what he's in for when he accidentally spills his drink on the recently hired patissiere. (prequel to make my heart surrender)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language. eventual smut.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: dover beach part 2 - baby queen | alaska - maggie rogers | less than i do - the band camino | 2 / 14 - the band camino

a/n: i'm back back back again! this is six part series will be a snapshot of carmy x reader's relationship in nyc that span across a three year period. i'm really looking forward to writing their friendship & so much repressed sexual tension it's not even funny. this is the first story i've published without it being almost or fully written so updates will maybe be more sporadic this time.

October 2019 

“i was hoping somehow we'd end up together, outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes. the wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face. i'm lonely for you only, and i'm trying to convince you that i'm something you could love.” – dover beach (pt 2)

He hates you. 

You’re absolutely sure of it. 

You can see it in the way his body stiffens as you walk by – in the way he hasn’t stopped sending you long, piercing glares across the kitchen – in just how bright red his face turns when you catch him doing it. 

And for what? For being excellent? For being good enough to get a job after staging that one night?

Fuck that, you think to yourself.

You find Carmen Berzatto infuriating, and it begins to dawn on you that you may have had one too many gin cocktails to stomach the fact that you have to be here tonight. 

Here, at his promotion party. 

Here, at this stupid fucking bar that you hate. 

Here, because he’s sort of everyone’s boss now… and it’s something you’re just going to have to live with.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise. There’d been talk of a leadership change (and Carmy filling the CDC position) when you had first started working here, but having a head’s up didn’t really help you now. You just hadn’t pictured having to go out for drinks to celebrate the man that seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as you. But your friend Liz, one of the chef de parties at the restaurant, had insisted you come with, since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. You understood why you both had to go, so you’d invited your other best friend to help the both of you get through. 

You thank your lucky stars that your direct report is the head pastry chef and not Carmy. Using your boss as a buffer, you had used every excuse in the book to avoid interacting with him. 

Sure, he was brilliant. 

Sure, he was a wunderkind who had just gotten back from a three month stage at noma right before he was hired here.

Sure, he was kind of a total asshole. 

“Fuck that, man! C’mon. Just one shot. It’s your big night, motherfucker!” Nate calls out, practically shoving a shot into Carmy’s hand. 

“Oh, I- uh, I’m good, man,” Carmy stutters, trying to find an excuse not to take the shot. 

Truthfully, he hates shots… and he’s not much of a vodka drinker either. 

He’s just not in the mood to get hammered either, his thoughts consumed with tomorrow, his first day as chef du cuisine, going perfectly. 

You watch the uncomfortable interaction, almost feeling bad for the guy. Nate and the most recently promoted sous, Tim, are trying their best to corral Carmy into taking the shot as you walk by. You can see the uncomfortable look on Carmy’s face as he declines Nate’s offer for a second time. 

In fact, he seems like a different person tonight. He’s… boyishly awkward, almost, and you wonder if he’s maybe not so great in social situations. As you pass by, drink in hand, you hear a cacophony of sound. Carmy’s trying his best to dodge his friends’ next attempt, and before you know it, Nate’s practically pushing him towards Tim, sending Carmy backwards, tumbling right into you. 

You feel the wet liquid of your gin and tonic, along with the shot of vodka that’s flown out of Carmy’s hand spill all over your shirt. The shot glass shatters as it hits the floor, and the sobering feeling of ice cold liquid soaking through your shirt causes you to shriek. 

“Shit! What the fuck, Carmy!” you yell, angrily, as you push him off of you.

At this point, you could care less that he’s everyone’s new boss, and the drama of it all has caught the attention of almost all of the other restaurant staff that have come out tonight. Your friends rush towards you, searching for as many napkins as they can grab. 

“Fffffuck,” is all he says back and you can’t believe he’s yelling at you right now. You watch as his face changes quickly, from angry, to thoroughly shocked as he begins to stammer through an apology. 

“I-. I’m sorry I-. I didn’t mean to-.” 

He scrambles to help you, with one cocktail napkin as you push him away, your friends rushing to your side. 

“No! I don’t want your help,” you grit through a clenched jaw. 

“Shit, your shirt is ruined… C’mon,” Liz says, as she ushers you away shooting a glare in Carmy’s direction. 

“Damn, man. You could just ask her out,” you can hear Nate say, even though you’re too preoccupied with examining the damage of your totally soaked through t-shirt. 

So much for a chill evening. 

“Oh shut up, Nate,” Maya snaps at the sous. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You nod, following her as she leads you away towards the bathroom. 

Back at the bar, Liz is trying her best to remedy the situation, trying her best to clean up the mess you left behind. She watches Carmy closely, trying to figure out whether she’s going to pay for this tomorrow. But instead of being angry, he just seems embarrassed… remorseful, even. There’s a small part of her that feels bad for the guy as it becomes clearer that he may just not be great in social situations.

As soon as you get to the single-room bathroom, you're swearing loudly and stripping off your shirt. It’s completely see through and you know you’re going to smell like a distillery until you can get home to shower. 

“I told you. He hates me,” you pout, examining your reflection in the mirror, a scowl glued to your face. You dap a few dry paper towels across your chest.

“I think it was just an accident, sweetie,” Maya says, sympathetically, as she tries her best to console you. 

“Yeah, I know,” you admit in defeat.

As much as you’d like to blame this on him, you know it wasn’t his fault. 

“Sorry I asked you to come tonight. If I knew it would be this much drama-,” you begin, before being promptly cut off. 

“Oh no, I’m all here for this drama,” she laughs, causing you to shake your head and lighten up a little about the situation.

As angry as you’d like to be with Carmy, you know that the truth of the matter is that he hadn’t meant to spill his drink all over you. You should be mad at Nate and Tim… but it just feels easier to be mad at Carmy considering. 

“Incoming!” you hear a voice say as Liz arrives. In her hands, she holds what looks like a white t-shirt, neatly folded up, that she hands to you. “Anyone in need of dry clothes?”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief, glady taking it. 

“Good on you for having an extra,” Maya says. 

“Well, it’s a restaurant. You never know when you’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Liz shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes that Maya notices, as she says it. You find it a little strange that she seems to be watching you for a reaction, but you brush off the look she sends you, as you slide the dry t-shirt over your head.

The t-shirt isn’t much bigger than an oversized fit you’d buy for yourself – which makes sense because Liz is a bit taller than you. The cotton fabric hangs loosely over your form as your eyes flicker over to your completely soaked through shirt that lays crumpled up on the bathroom sink. 

“Well, ladies. We did our best,” you resign yourself, as you notice your still-very-wet bra begin soaking through the white t-shirt. 

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can get some more paper towels. Or uh.. See if the kitchen has a towel we can use,” Liz says, nodding her head towards the door. 

“We’ll be right back,” Maya reassures you, empathy in her eyes.

You watch as Liz follows her, leaving you alone in the bathroom. 

It doesn’t take long for the door to the bathroom to swing open again, which surprises you. You gasp as soon as you see who's come through the door, and you’re crossing your arms over your chest which may only make the wet bra, white t-shirt ordeal even worse. A very flustered Carmy stands in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as if he hadn’t expected you to be in here. 

“There’s uh… someone in here,” you scoff, unable to hide the irritation in the sound of your voice. You hug your arms closer to yourself, almost as if to cover yourself up. 

“No I-, yeah, I know I just-,” he stammers, his eyes shifting to the floor. He feels like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and he can feel all the blood rushing to his face, instantly regretting his decision not to knock first. 

“I actually, uh… I came to apologize,” he manages to get out, his words quiet. He says it as if there’s an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence. You can see the way he runs his eyes back and forth, trailing over the fancy floor tile, searching for the right words. 

“I didn’t mean to- I just-. Sorry…”

His demeanor surprises you. At work, Carmy’s this confident, commandeering, talented chef, but tonight, he seems anything but.

Nervous. Shy. Like a fish out of water, even.

You take a breath, trying your best to relax.

You can feel some of your guard coming down as you begin to accept he really hadn’t meant to spill his drink on you. But you’re not eager to forget the fact that he’s been kind of an asshole to you since you started working here. Unsure of how to respond, you give literal effort to replying with a:

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

He knows you don’t mean it. 

In fact, he can hear how painful it is for you to get out those words. 

You wait for him to leave, but Carmy continues to stand in the bathroom with you, awkwardly. But he doesn’t say anything, so you figure that the least you can do is deflect a little with humor. 

“I’ll uh-, invoice you for the therapy session,” you say, trying to eliminate any malice in your tone so that he knows you’re joking. “Walking home in a wet shirt on the streets of NYC is gonna be… fun.”

“Oh uh…” he trails off, his face turning a darker shade of red. 

“I’m kidding,” you state, searching his face for any kind of expression. 

This man is impossible to read, you think to yourself.

His eyes are still glued to the floor as he begins to move, mumbling something you can’t quite hear in response to your failed joke. Carmy slides out of the denim jacket he’s wearing, before taking hold of it, extending an arm out to you. 

“Sorry um-. Here,” he says nervously, and it’s the first time he’s allowed his eyes to meet yours. “You can uh-. You can wear this. For your walk home.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. 

And had his eyes always been that blue?

Your face softens. 

You take the jacket hesitantly, holding it in your hands. This time you mean it when you say:

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he shrugs, daring to meet your eyes with his again. 

You slip the jacket over your shoulders as the two of you stand a few feet apart. The air feels thick, and at this point, you’re not sure how to feel. Even though your bra has continued to soak through the white t-shirt, the way his denim jacket feels wrapped around your shoulders feels like an added layer of protection.

“After uh-. You know I-,” he stumbles through.

“Yeah. No I uh-. Thanks, again,” you repeat, cutting him off. 

Might as well put the poor guy out of his misery. 

“Anyways, I’ll make sure to get this back to you,” you interject, your voice much more reassuring this time. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You swear you can almost see the corner of his lips turn up, but you’ve never really seen him smile, so it’s not like you have much to compare it to. Carmy excuses himself, and you watch as he leaves, genuinely grateful for the peace offering. 

The way that Carmy’s jacket hangs heavily around your shoulders makes you wonder if it’s real denim. You notice that it smells like him too: a faint scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, whatever scented laundry detergent he uses that feels familiar. 

You and Carmy don’t speak again, save for a few short exchanges at work, but he’s been on your mind. Your interaction the other night had left an impression on you – albeit a strange one – and you’re not sure why you haven’t returned his jacket yet. 

It’s not till a few days later that you speak again, leaving another strange impression on you. You head into the walk-in to get a few quarts of heavy cream and as you pull the door open, you find a flustered Carmy standing there. He’s got his hands on his hips and eyes glued to the floor with an exasperated look on his face as he watches the plastic storage containers he’s just thrown clamor across the floor. You gasp, shocked by the loud sounds, and Carmy knows he’s not alone. 

As he turns to you with a glare on his face, you notice that Carmy’s eyes are puffy, his cheeks flushed red, and he looks sick as a dog. 

His eyes are wide with embarrassment for a moment, before returning to their normal, stoic focus, hardened by a less than positive interaction with the exec chef. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortably. He gestures towards the storage containers on the floor, before running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair. 

“It’s uh, you’re good, chef,” you say, trying your best to put your wall of professionalism up. 

You had witnessed the demeaning encounter from the exec chef – everyone had. It had been impossible not to. He’d practically breathed down Carmy’s neck, taunting him for his lack of focus today, that he’s a little bitch for letting allergies get to him. 

To say that the man was emotionally abusive would be an understatement. 

You should leave – turn and go, and pretend that this never happened – that you’d seen nothing. But instead, you stay. 

“You good, chef?” you ask softly, a hint of concern in your voice.

He sniffles again, the searing headache that robs him of his focus only burning brighter after what just happened. 

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he snaps, refusing to look at you. 

You wait for him to say something more, only he doesn’t. You can see he’s not feeling well and that he must be feeling worse after his metaphorical public stoning in the town square. He’s not sure what the hell it is you’re waiting for, and he just needs another fucking second to himself. 

“Why are you still here?” he grits through teeth, his eyes fixed to the floor. 

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re honestly not sure why you’re still in the walk-in with him either. 

Maybe because you know that the exec chef is a total monster.

That he shouldn’t have talked to Carmy like that. 

That you can understand why he’d be upset. 

“Chef!” he says, raising his voice a little louder and flinging his hands towards the door. “Will you just-?”

You nod, a feeling of embarrassment filling your chest, as you realize he wants you to leave. You hurry out of the walk-in, closing the door behind you as you escape, your heavy cream quart containers in hand. 

“You good?” Liz asks, as soon as she sees you come out of the walk-in. She’s passing by to bring a few deli containers over to the dish station. 

“What?” you ask back in surprise, unaware that you look visibly shaken up.

“You look… flustered is all,” she points out. 

“Oh. Yeah. I just uh-, Carmy’s in there. Throwing a fit. He just uh… snapped at me is all. But what’s new?” you reply, trying your best to shake it off. 

She rolls her eyes in response, “Yeah, he can be like that. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work under him.”

You let out an annoyed exhale. It’s a funny feeling – one that leaves you a little confused: one minute he’s this chivalrous guy that’s handing you his jacket to wear home and the next he’s practically tearing your head off to get out of the walk-in. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s so hot and cold, you’re not sure what to expect from him anymore. 

As you and Liz are about to part ways, you remember that you have to give her back her borrowed shirt. 

“Oh!” you say, calling her attention before she returns to her station. 

“I have your shirt, by the way,” you say. “From the other night.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Okay weird timing considering he’s being such an asshole today but uh…. Yeah. The shirt’s... not mine. I forgot to tell you.”

You send her a puzzled look as she shrugs. 

“I didn’t think you’d take it if I told you but… it’s Carmy’s. He pulled it out of his bag when he spilled the drink on you,” she informs, waiting to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“You were so mad at him that I just figured-, it doesn't matter. He pulled it out of his bag to give to you. I think he felt really fucking bad, babe,” she interjects, revealing the truth. 

Well now you’re really fucking confused. 

And after your little interaction with him in the walk-in, there’s no way you’re going to bring it up to him today. 

“Oh. Yeah um, got it,” you reply, feeling even more confused than when you started the day. 

You show up to work the next day with the t-shirt and his jacket tucked into a canvas tote bag you plan on giving to Carmy. You’d decided to wait till you had them both, and you’re also hoping that he’s in a better mood today. 

Only, Carmy’s not here today. 

“Yeah, he’s out sick. Looks like those allergies turned out to be a nasty head cold,” your general manager had informed you when you’d asked about where Carmy was. “Looks like Tim’s filling in today for him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kate” you’d replied. 

Later on your mid-shift break, you’d then mustered up all the courage possible to ask if anyone had checked in on Carmy. Kate, your GM, had answered no, and had been more than happy to give you his address so that you could do so. You’re not sure why you feel like it’s the right thing to do, but between his act of kindness at the bar, and his outburst in the walk-in yesterday, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little kindness. Not that you feel like you owe him or anything. 

Maybe you just want to give him his clothes back and be done with it. 

Maybe you’re also deeply confused about who the hell Carmen Berzatto really is. 

Maybe the mystery of it intrigues you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Dinner service flies by quickly – a string of non-stop orders helps the time go faster. Carmy’s apartment is on your way home, so it’s a no-brainer to make the trip. You stop on your way at a deli nearby, picking up a quart of matzo ball soup, before heading over to his apartment. 

When you get there, you knock on the door three times, anxiety beginning to flood you.

What if he thinks this is totally creepy – that you just got his address from the general manager? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he hates the fact that you’re even there in the first place? 

You wonder if you should just leave the soup at the door and run as fast as you can so that, by the time he answers the door, you’re gone. 

Just as you’re bending down to place the quart container down by his door, the door swings open to reveal a very congested Carmy. His curls seem wilder than normal as he looks genuinely surprised to see you crouching in the hall of his apartment. 

“Hi!” you practically shout, taken off guard as you rise to your feet. 

“Yo,” he says, blinking a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming. “What’s uh-, what’s going on?”

It’s weird – seeing Carmy outside of the restaurant, outside of his chef whites. His usually slicked back, out-of-his-face hair falls in the messiest most unruly curls around his face in a way that's surprisingly unkempt. He’s… almost human-like. 

“This is for you,” is all you manage to say, handing him the quart container. 

“Uh… thanks,” he trails off, taking it and checking out the matzo ball soup. 

You’re not sure where to begin, how to explain why the hell you’re here, so you just start talking. 

“I uh… your place was on the way home,” you begin. “I hope it’s okay but I got your address from Kate. I actually used to go to this deli all the time when I was a kid with my parents and I forgot that it was in your neighborhood so I just figured that I should pick something up on the way over since I heard you were sick and uh-.”

Carmy shoots you a look and he almost looks amused. 

“... I’m rambling, aren’t I?” you ask, a light blush running across your cheeks. 

“Yeah,” he nods, a dry laugh following.

You wait a beat, collecting yourself. You’re not sure why this is so weird, but it’s so weird. 

“I came by because…” you start, digging through your canvas tote bag that’s draped across your right shoulder. “... I wanted to return these to you.” 

You hold out the jacket and t-shirt folded up together to Carmy, his eyes following them. 

“Liz told me that the shirt was yours too. I just-, I know we don’t always… that you don’t-, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I know it’s kind of weird at work sometimes but… I guess  I just wanted to say thank you. For these. Hence the soup,” you finally explain.

“No problem,” Carmy nods, taking them in his empty hand, before disappearing momentarily to place them somewhere inside of his apartment.  

You’re only a little disappointed by his short response, yet you’re not sure you expected anything else. He returns only seconds later.

“It’s uh-, Cool jacket,” you say. You can’t tell whether you’re making small talk or just saying something out of discomfort, but it seems to pique Carmy’s interest. 

“It actually reminds me of the denim jacket that John Lennon used to wear ”

“You know denim?” he asks, and you could swear that you see his eyes light up for a moment. 

“No, but I know music,” you reply. 

“Uh I mean. Yeah. It is…” he says, with a nod, a hint of excitement in the words that follow. “Not the actual one he wore but… it’s a 1950s selvedge Wrangler. Just like Lennon.”

So he wasn���t just a fine-dining robot. 

“Wow I didn’t know you were into all that,” you say, feeling some of the tension between the two of you melt. “Denim, I mean.”

“Something I picked up from my brother, I guess,” he shrugs, shyly. 

“That’s funny,” you chuckle. 

“Hm?” he hums in response. 

“Just… the thought of you having a brother,” you clarify, jokingly. “Thought you were like… grown in a lab at noma or something.”

And Carmy almost smiles, you think.

“Nope. Just Chicago,” he replies, enjoying the act of sharing something with you. 

“Ahhh,” you sound, following it up with another small laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Enjoy the soup.”

“Yeah, uh. Thanks for this,” he says, holding up the brown bag. 

“Of course,” you reply, turning to go. 

But you don’t go yet, not ready to let go of the momentary connection you’ve built with Carmy 

"You know it doesn’t have to be like this,” you say, turning back to him. He's staring at you, just like he does in the kitchen. It’s another long, languid look that makes you realize that maybe they haven’t been hate-glares after all.

“We don't have to do this... start over every time we see each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod. “I mean, I've already worn your clothes so… it’s a rather… intimate thing for us to just be strangers….”

He listens attentively. 

"We could… coworkers… friends, even,” you suggest, hesitantly.

“Me and you?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by what you’ve said, or if he’s about to laugh in your face. 

“If you want,” you nod in response. 

He waits a beat, and you watch his facial expressions soften a little as he finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smile at him, the man you thought hated you, wants to be friends with you. You get a wicked idea, letting out a chuckle before continuing. 

“Great. There’s just one thing,” you begin playfully.

You can’t help yourself.

“Hm?” he hums. 

“It’s just… I haven’t made my mind up about you. So you should consider this your trial period, buddy,” you tease. 

He lets out a dry laugh, “Like a stage?”

Of course it’s all kitchen-related for him.

You laugh in response, “Yeah, like a stage.”

“Heard, chef.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

Carmy’s never had someone joke with him so sweetly. Between his family and, well, Richie… it’s always been callous humor and insults thrown back and forth lovingly. This feels… different: lighter.

As he watches you walk away, he looks down at the deli quart container that he holds in his hand. He’s never had anyone take care of him before – not like this – someone who wasn’t Sugar or Mikey, and certainly not his Mom. Not like this. Not without asking for anything in return. He can’t seem to identify the warm feeling that rushes through him, and wonders, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to fall in love. 

Not that he’s ever experienced that either.

By Saturday, he’s back to work and feeling much better (the soup definitely helps, he decides) but it’s not for another week that he musters up the courage to ask you what you’re doing between lunch and dinner service. 

“Chef!” he calls out to you as you’re cleaning up your station.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you reply. 

It’s not like you’ve been all buddy-buddy and friendly over the last week, but you’ve at least stopped thinking that he hates you. Sure you’ve decided to be friends, but it’s not like you’d expected wildly different behavior. 

“You uh… wanna grab a cup of coffee? On the break, I mean,” he asks, his blue eyes seeming… more brilliant than you’ve ever noticed. 

“I owe you one. You know. For the soup.”

You smile, “Yeah. I’d uh-, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

read: chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[no-saints-around-here]

Quiet Afternoon

Yandere BFF Bonten Rindo & Bimbo!Reader

Masterlist

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a little nsfw spinoff from my BFF Rindo series, starting here, masterlist here! not necessary to read but it'll provide some context imo

tw: yandere, smut, dubcon, sexual assault, double pen, afab reader, dead dove do not eat

The muffled clap of skin meeting skin echoed through the opulently decorated bedroom, though calling the enormous space a bedroom was generously stretching the term to its limit. Tastefully decked out in dark-toned hardwoods and the occasional flourish of gold and silver, the priceless masterpieces that decorated the walls and corner of the room as if spoils of wars were barely visible in the dim light, polished frames and shined metal unable to shimmer in the dull ambient glow of the intricate chandelier that hung above the bed. Yet despite all the glitters and glamor that shared the space, it was only the four-poster bed that received any ounce of the spotlight - or more so you, ever so elegantly posed naked on your fours above less sparsely-dressed yet obviously fuming Rindo.

“What the fuck-” The words were hissed through gritted teeth as he harshly thursted himself upwards. “Did I say about talking to the others? Huh?!” You only huffed, unable to even catch your breath as strong arms simultaneously forced you backwards and onto him, his hips meeting the flesh of your buttocks with a wet slap as the Bonten executive plunged his entire length into you.

You, however, barely seemed to notice your self-proclaimed best friend’s foul mood as he pounded himself into you, the pleasure overwhelming any coherent thought that might have been left in that empty head of yours. Angelic voice that once could transfix and mesmerize crowds now reduced to mere huffing and wheezing, your doe-like eyes rolled backwards as he grinded his cock harshly against that one soft, spongy spot of your inner wall. Rindo was sure that the only thing keeping you up was his strength; the same strength that had kept you safe from the big bad world since you wore him down into friendship in childhood. But it was precisely this fact that had the well-feared mobster pissed off enough to tip his hand and break the sole unspoken rule he had held himself to for all these years to punish you.

Even after so long and what could be considered a forcibly short but successful stint as an idol, you still had barely a brain cell to share between both halves of your head, still couldn’t even follow a single simple instruction that he was sure he had drilled into you countless times. 

It was just a routine job, no more than a few hours to be spent apart from you. His orders were easy and direct as they always were when it came to you: forbidding you from leaving the room until he was back, to keep the door locked at all times, and to not breathe a word to any of the other Bonten members except in an absolute emergency. Straightforward enough, yet where did he find you upon his return from his exhausting mission? Not in your shared room, no; he found you instead mesmerized by Koko, that slick, stingy motherfucker trying to brainwash you into selling nudes. Convincing you that he, Rindo, your best friend in the entire world, wouldn’t mind in the slightest since there was money to be made, and that Koko had buyers - dedicated, obsessed and very, very wealthy fans still reeling from your sudden retirement from the industry - lined up that would shell out a bomb for just a mere teasing shot in your panties. 

Lies. You should know better than to think those honeyed words were nothing but lies. Because you were his and only his, and as your friend and sole protector, he would happily kill every last person who dared to lay such vulgar eyes on you.

“Why were you with Koko? What else did he say?” The younger of the Haitanis demanded, gloved grip tightening ever so slightly around your hips.

Despite the strong air-conditioning going at full blast and having done so for the past couple of hours, the prominent beads of sweat that clung to your forehead gleamed softly as if crystals clung to your skin as you panted, gasping to catch your next breath. A complete opposite from his own state. Rindo didn’t feel the slightest bit winded from this post-work workout despite being mostly clad in his combat outfit: the bulletproof vest paired with a simple black shirt and tie only missing a similarly colored pair of pants, with said clothing having long been stripped off and hurriedly discarded. Though more irritating was having to watch the dirt and grime and filthy blood of the outside world being rubbed off onto your bare skin - he’ll have to make sure that you got an extra thorough bath later. God only knows what kind of sickness you could catch.

You, however, remained unresponsive to Rindo’s demands except the occasional whuff and sharp exhale, lost in the pleasure rippling through your body from the valley between your legs. 

Finally pulling himself out from his spiraling thoughts, the Bonten executive paused in his movements, sharp violet eyes narrowing at your failure to respond as he left himself half submerged in your folds. “Are you even listening?” He snarled, accompanied with another strong thrust that earned him a throaty gasp from you before stopping once more.

Rindo’s only answer was your struggle against his hold in a vain attempt to regain the sudden loss of friction. “Ah-ahh Rin-rin,” you whined, pleaded, as you desperately tried to regain the momentum that sparked pleasure in your abdomen, though your attempt to grind against him was in vain. "I really tr-ied!"

He already did so much for you - the tattoo on the front of his neck that branded him as Bonten was all for you. Who better to protect you from rabid world who would tear you apart without hesitation than the largest criminal organization in Japan? All those tortured souls, those eyes that he stared straight into before ending their life, all the blood that stained his hands. Rindo did it to keep you safe, to keep you by his side. And this was how you repaid your best friend? “You didn’t try hard enough.”

Countless men he had killed who had tried to take you away, who had tried to steal away your heart, who had tried to get you to notice them. And countless more he will kill - strangers, Bonten employees, former fans. He would kill them all for you. But even now, Rindo couldn’t quite muster himself to get genuinely angry at you. Even after you betrayed his trust, it was pretty much what Rindo had expected - you had always been quite the airhead, which was why you depended on him, why he, your best friend, had to care for you and look after you.

He’ll punish you for this transgression all right, but not too much; the thought of you fearing him, leaving him, sent shivers down his spine. Just a little bit wouldn’t hurt to keep you in line.

‎

‎

Sure, Ran might have been strolling down Executive Row with the precise intention of poking his nose into his younger brother’s business, especially after the juicy rumors swirling as to what went down a couple of hours earlier with Koko. Now clean and dressed in a fresh set of shirt and shorts, this part of Bonten HQ was predictably void of souls - no servant would dare be caught loitering where the bosses lived. But being able to hear your harmonious voice whining from the corridor for all to hear? Even he didn’t expect something so bold from Rindo, not when the latter had a custom-made soundproof bedroom door installed the day he moved in. And sure enough, the thick, heavy padded steel door was slightly ajar, an oddity in the otherwise lifeless hallway neatly lined with an alternating pattern of invaluable treasures and rightly shut doors - Rindo must have been in a mighty hurry if he failed to do something so routine.

The rare and untimely creak of the usually well-oiled door fortunately failed to draw any attention, Ran noted, and the full view of your naked backside mooning him from the entrance quickly made it clear what his dear brother was occupied with. He remembered you well not only from your shared childhood in the Haitani household, but more recently from your time on the stage, those captivating melodies that you belted out without a second thought roaring up to the front of his mind once more. No doubt he still hears them from time to time on the air, but having had the opportunity to listen to you in person once, it was clear why you had rocketed to stardom. But ah Rindo - he kept you close to his side all this time. Negotiating with Mikey just to let him have you, he was always so obsessed with you, baring his teeth at any of the other executives that dared to even glance your way, let alone allowing you anywhere close to rabid fans eager for a piece of you. He even hides his fucking gun from you. No wonder he forced you to retire from stardom.

For a moment, Ran stood watching the two of you from the doorway. Rindo was frustrated at whatever sin it was that you had committed, and this was his idea of a “punishment”, yet that baby boy nestled amidst the luxurious fabrics was still so obviously, painfully gentle. The way he was edging you so carefully, glancing up at your face every other second just to make sure you weren’t actually hurting, still giving you the occasional pump so that you weren’t left completely high and dry; what else was there to say? Ran was nowhere this kind even to his favorite private whores. The smell of sex filled every breath he took as the cool air leaked out from the bedroom and into the otherwise empty passage, before the man finally turned to gently close the door behind him, locking it shut. A smell he was no stranger to, and while he was sure Rindo would maybe be okay if it was just him, but he would definitely be pissed if any of the others ever saw you in your current state. Pissed enough to end them with a clean gunshot to the head probably, and Ran shuddered at the possibility of having to bail Rindo out from Mikey’s wrath.

A soft chime ringing out from an unseen clock was like the starting bell of a fight, and it was a smirk that pulled at Ran’s lips as he padded over to the centerpiece of the room. Time to make this little session a proper punishment - he did have a heart after all, and if it did help Rindo keep you more in line, then fantastic

Your self-proclaimed best friend only took note of the unwelcome intruder when the nightstand drawer was pulled open, and in an instance, that look of mock anger (Ran was certain it was all just a bluff) fell away into horror as their eyes met. “What the fuck-“ Rindo stammered, the gears in his head seemingly coming to a grinding halt. You at least had enough awareness left in you to let out an eep at the sudden introduction of another voice, though you quickly settled back down as Rindo’s arms tightened protectively around you; maybe you assumed that all this was Rindo’s idea? Ran wouldn’t be surprised - your airhead already relied so heavily on the other to guide you through life.

“You left the door open. So I invited myself in.” The older of the two helpfully supplemented, signature lazy grin plastered all over his face as he rummaged for a little before pulling out a small tube.

“Get out!”

“Aww Rin-Rin, why’re you being so mean?” Ran teased as he slid onto the plush bed, comfy blankets that usually swaddled you and your delicate skin puffing up under his bony self as the man made his way across the enormous mattress. “I’m just here to help.”

“Don’t you dare touch her,” swore Rindo, the previous anger that had melted away from his face just minutes ago flaring up once more, cheeks reddening as he glared down Ran. “I’ll fucking kill you, I swear.”

But the fighting words barely bothered the older Haitani, more than used to his brother’s all bark and no bite when it came to actually making a move in front of you. “You want to punish her, don’t ya?” Drawled Ran, as he finally reached you. You jumped when cold hands touched your cheeks, spreading them apart with a critical eye as if appreciating a feast. “Doesn’t seem like it with what you’re doing.” 

Ignoring the continuously growing threats that Rindo was growling at him from the bed, Ran instead busied himself making a show of squeezing out what was revealed to be lube from the small tube and generously coating his fingers. The shiny liquid seemingly glimmered under the light of the chandelier against the backdrop of your equally glittery skin, his anticipation of what was to come shortly quickly leading to a tent in his shorts. After all, desire for something was directly proportional to how off-limits it was, and you had been off-limits to him since Rindo first brought you home. He couldn’t wait. Casually pushed two slicked digits into your tight pucker, giving it a few lazy pumps in what seemed like an attempt to loosen and oil your bottom up for him, his impatience got the better of him, and the Bonten executive gave up all pretense. Hurriedly pushing down the band of his shirts and pulling out his already hard dick, you weren’t given a warning other than the light touch of his length as Ran lined himself up. 

Your eyes popped open the same time that his head was forced past your ring of muscles, and your nose scrunched, an unmistakable sign of the flaring pain from between your legs. And the struggles started right after as you made a valiant attempt to free yourself from Rindo’s arms, the beads of sweat that clung to your hair holding on for dear life as you tried to wriggle away. “Ri-Rin, it hurts…”

But Ran was already lost to the warm heaven he, like an explorer stumbling upon the entrance to nirvana, had discovered within your wriggling body.  “Oh- oh f-fuck,” was all the man could moan as his length sank in slowly and surely, the feeling of your newly opened bottom clutching and squeezing around his dick pure ecstasy, his mind almost liquid mush. Was this heaven what Rindo had been hiding from him all these years? Probably not, the executive floatingly mused to himself, as he pushed himself further inwards, given how deep in denial his younger brother was when it came to his relationship with you. 

Your backdoor was miles better than any whore he had taken, in a league of your own, and that was putting it lightly - the warmth of your insides around him, combined with your muffled pained whines almost enough for the older Haitani to cum instantly if he had an ounce lesser of self-control. Sex might not have been Rindo’s top priority for keeping you out of the public’s eye and away from the rest of the Bonten executives, but god it should be - Ran would have been happy to pay an unimaginable number of zeros just for access to you..

Even Rindo let out a deep throated groan at the additional friction, before he caught himself and bit it back. Yet it was clear that you were stretched beyond your limit, the double penetration visibly causing strain between your legs, your thighs spasming with effort as you bit down hard on your lips, tears welling in those doe eyes of yours.

Slender fingers reaching down to gingerly touch at where you and Rindo were joined, the light exploratory brushes of his fingertips only serve to intensify your discomfort, as judged from the whimper that escaped your lips. Ran whistled - if that was enough to hurt…. That too failed to stop the smugly grinning executive, the older Haitani never ceasing as he continued to force his way past muscles that failed to keep him out, until he finally bottomed out in you, his balls slapping with enough force to let out an audible squelch. A pause, a temporary mercy to let you adjust to his size alongside Rindo’s, but more for Ran to admire the new expression that tore at your face.

An agonized grimace, a bleed of blood that adorned your plush lips, the idol that captured hearts was lost in the sea of pain he was putting you through. There was something beautiful about it, Ran admitted, as he ran one hand through your sweat-drenched hair, teasingly tracing light patterns into your back - he doubt there were many people who had ever seen this side of you, and it was a privilege he would treasure. The lust came flooding back as your tears fell, and Ran couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to the back of your head before straightening.

“Move Rindo,” Ran grunted, as he started to grind his cock against your walls, pulling out slightly before slamming himself back in. “Move, dammit.”

‎

‎

“Fucking hell Ran, you’re hurting her!” In a bid to dislodge the other from you, the younger of the two had attempted to roll you over and under him, but the slightest nudge had you crying out at the extra stretch, and Rindo stopped. He wasn’t going to lie that he wasn’t enjoying the extra friction - he had never experienced anything close before - but you were and always will be his first priority. You crying was the last thing he wanted, and the guilt was welling at the base of his gut. What fresh new hell was he putting you through? 

Yet for all the nasty names his brain was yelling at him for not calling off this entire session, for not reaching under his pillow for his gun, Rindo couldn’t bring himself to pull out just yet. Against him knowing better than to continue, his hips began to thrust once more, and said gangster could only shove down the protesting best friend inside him.

He couldn’t tell when him and Ran had synced up, their thrusts falling into a pattern of one in, one out. The sheer friction generated was godly - the divine feeling of his cock rubbing up against another felt through the thin wall that separated your pussy from your ass as they were forced past each other. And as the seconds  - minutes, hours? Rindo had long lost track of time - your own cries of pain died down, you letting out tired whines and grunts as you laid spent on Rindo’s chest, the two brothers too busy hammering their hips against yours in a chase of pleasure to notice. All three of you toppled over that edge at the same time, Rindo letting out a strangled ‘fuck’ before like a tension coil finally allowed to release, his hot cum spurted deep into you as he shuddered against you. And nestled as far as he could push in your ass, Ran’s cock pulsed and shuddered as he too released his load into you. 

Around them, the sudden warmth seemed to trigger a response from you, your walls tightening around them as you came, though you barely twitched, your eyes already half-closed as you laid cuddled against Rindo, exhausted. Letting out a satisfied grunt, Ran finally pulled out of you, falling backwards to sit on the plush bed in a daze, the last dribble of cum drooling from the head of his softening dick. “That was- '' Said mafioso swallowed hard, unable to describe the feeling, though jumbled mind quickly latched on to the white cum starting to seep from both your holes. “Trying to get her pregnant?” 

Post-nut clarity hit Rindo like a truck, and the bliss plastered across his face evaporated, giving way to a dark, angry look. Reaching under his pillow, it was that telltale click as a familiar pistol was pulled from underneath the white covers. “That was you overstaying your welcome,” snarled Rindo, as he leveled the barrel straight at Ran. “Fuck. Off.”

Ran beat a hasty retreat, barely able to push his dick back into his shorts before he disappeared behind the heavy steel bedroom door, said door groaning as it was locked shut with a soft thud. 

Alone once more, the background whirl of the air-conditioning suddenly seemed so loud, the air blowing through unseen grates whistling as it drifted down from the high ceiling. The made-man turned his attention to you, violet eyes softening as he took in your fatigued form and your flushed cheeks. Stripping off his gloves, your best friend carefully rubbing his thumb over where hot tears had torn their way down your delicate skin, before chancing a glance between your legs. Ravaged would have been light - Rindo grimacing at the sight of your still panting pucker, red and inflamed from where it had been forced open. 

Sighing, the man bundled your naked form ever so gently into his arms, shifting his way off the bed and standing with a crack of his knees. You stirred, looking up at him with swollen eyes. “Rin rin?”

He hummed as he crossed the room towards your built-in bathroom. “What is it?” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle as it always was when it came to you, a 180 from the feared Bonten gunman who took lives with nay a blink.

“...” You yawned, snuggling into his chest, your eyes fluttering close once more. “Nothing.”

“Hey, no sleeping yet.” He nudged you. “Pee, shower, then doctor.”

“Doctor?”

Just to make sure you were alright down there, Rindo admitted to himself, the guilt that he had suppressed previously now back to eat away at his heart, but he said nothing more to you. He’ll make it up to you, he swore to himself. Somehow, someway. With a click, the yellow lights flicked on, illuminating the marble-floored spotless bathroom.

You piped up again as you caught your reflection in the mirror. “Koko said - Koko said if I made enough money,” you paused, interrupted by another yawn. “You could stop working.”

“I don’t need your fucking money, stupid.” Placing you down on the toilet, the purple-haired man flicked your forehead, rolling his eyes. And that was the truth. It didn’t matter - it had never mattered - what he had to do. All this was for you. All he needed was you.

[farity]

Devil in the Details

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. God."

You turned at your friend Floris's whispered exclamation.

It took you but a second to figure out what she was so excited about.

Aemond Targaryen, the black sheep of the Targaryen dynasty, the reclusive billionaire who looked down at everyone vying for his attention, the man you'd been in lust with since you'd met him five years ago, had actually made an appearance at the glittering charity gala hosted by his mother.

"I need to get his skin care routine," Floris said, biting on her lower lip as she scrutinized Aemond from head to toe. "I'd love to climb that tree tonight."

Good luck with that, you thought to yourself.

You'd been in the same Uni class as his sister Helaena and met Aemond when you'd gone over to work on a joint project. He'd been quiet and almost shy, and you had been instantly smitten.

And had not been able to date anyone in the five years since because all you thought about was Aemond Targaryen.

Not that he gave you a second thought, as far as you knew.

"What the fuck is he wearing?" Floris continued, and, tired of pining after the man, you looked at her and snapped, "why don't you go find out?" before walking away to get your drink refilled.

* * * * *

"We are so very thankful for your family's contribution - the children will benefit greatly," Alicent smiled at you, leaning in to air-kiss you as you said your goodbyes.

You got your coat from the girl at the front, and were about to call for your car when you felt a hand grab your arm.

"Leaving already?"

Your heart began pounding as you recognized Aemond's voice, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you turned to face him.

By the Seven, he looked amazing. He'd shaved off his hair a few months ago when Aegon had done the same after having one too many drinks. Alicent had screamed at her oldest son and out of brotherly solidarity, Aemond had grabbed the electric shaver and started running it along his scalp right in front of his mother.

His eyes bore into yours, the prosthetic eye he had so perfect that you couldn't tell which eye was the real one. Every time you thought about it, you wanted to wallop his cousin, the little shit who had taken Aemond's eye during a childhood fight.

"I've seen enough people to last me a few months," you said, looking at what was, indeed, damn perfect skin, as Floris had mentioned. And was that eyeliner? Because his eyes had never been bluer than they were at that moment.

"Tell me about it," he said, still holding on to your arm, "I was going to grab a drink at the quiet bar next door, if you're game."

There was something vulnerable in his expression and you found yourself nodding and taking the arm he offered. "What in the world are these?" you asked.

He looked down at the latex gloves. "Mother's been berating me for not making an appearance at these things," he shrugged, "so here I am. Maybe she should have specified a dress code."

* * * * *

"You know, there's a name for what you're doing," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Malicious compliance."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that would be me." He looked back up at you, eyes sparkling, "if she'd wanted me to wear a tux, she should have said so."

"Would you have, though?" you prodded, "I have a feeling you would have figured some way to twist that dress code around. You were always the clever one."

"Not so clever if I never got you to go out with me."

You stared at him for a few seconds. "Aemond, you never asked."

"I'm asking now."

He placed a few bills on the table and placed his hand palm up on the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh, and then placed your hands on his, and let him lead you out the door.

* * * * *

"How is Helaena liking Naath?"

"She loves it there. She has to get her shot every six months but she doesn't care, as long as she can keep studying the butterflies."

"And Aegon?"

"He stopped drinking after he shaved off his head, said it didn't suit his perfectly shaped skull."

You laughed, remembering Aegon's rather oversized ego, and then stole a glance at Aemond. "What about you? How have you been?"

He shrugged, "the company is doing well, family's good," he looked at you, "and I'm on a wonderful date."

You raised your eyebrows, "oh it's a date, is it?"

You could have sworn he blushed, but he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back. "It very much is, but I do have a problem." He looked at you very seriously. "I need to lose these damn gloves."

* * * * *

It took about twenty minutes of careful tugging and maneuvering but finally, Aemond was free of the gloves and while you got two coffees to keep you going, he headed to the bathroom to wash his arms.

Back on the street, he grabbed your hand in his as he sipped at his coffee. "This is much better."

"So where on earth does one get this sort of getup to shock Alicent Hightower?"

He smiled. "My friend is a stylist and he hooked me up. His girlfriend is a makeup artist and she put all this stuff on my face and hair."

"You look amazing," you said sincerely, "your eyes look super blue."

"I could feel mom's blood pressure spiking as she noticed the eyeliner and highlighter," he laughed. "It was worth it."

"I bet she'll say extra prayers for you tonight."

Nodding, he took another sip of his coffee. "Not enough prayers in the world," he mused. You stopped to drink some of your own coffee and he pulled you closer. "And I really want to kiss you."

You looked up at him, your heart beating faster, and then he placed his coffee cup down, and took your face in his hands. He brushed his nose against yours, not rushing you, and then his lips touched yours. He kept the kiss light and gentle, his fingertips threading through your hair as you sighed against him.

He murmured your name as he wrapped an arm around you. You didn't want this to end, this magical night, and then he spoke again.

"Come home with me."

* * * * *

"You feel so damn good," Aemond whispered in the lift, his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The car stopped and the doors opened, and you stepped into his loft, his hands roaming over your ass as you kicked off your shoes and let him pull you up against him.

"I want you so fucking much," you said against his mouth. He led you to his bedroom and you sat down on the edge of the bed as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Come here, Aemond," you smiled.

He walked up to you, slowly, and you reached up to undo the fastenings on his leather trousers, keeping your eyes on him. Your hand lightly went over where he was already hard as a rock, and he hissed.

You drew down the zipper ever so slowly, biting down on your lower lip.

"I am going to make you pay for this," he gritted out.

"For what?" you asked innocently, starting to tug down the waistband. When you finally freed him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes, you licked your lips and took him in your mouth.

"Fuck."

"Hmmmm," you moaned around him, relaxing your throat so you could take him deeper. You could hear Aemond's breathing stuttering as you slowly pulled your lips all the way to the very tip of him and then took him back down your throat, hollowing out your cheeks.

"Fuck," he repeated, "I, uh, I can't-"

You felt him suddenly pull you off him and push you back on the bed.

"This is going to end too quickly if you keep doing that, angel."

"Angel?"

"Look at you," he said, indicating your white shimmery gown. "An angel about to be debauched."

You let one strap of the dress fall off your shoulder. "What does that make you, then?"

He lunged for you, hands on the bed on either side of you, and the smile on his face made you shiver.

"Me? I'm already destined for hell, love."

He took your lips, not slowly or gently this time, but desperately, his mouth all consuming on yours as he demanded entrance with his tongue and you willingly gave it. He was tugging down your dress as he kissed you, long fingers deftly maneuvering the yards of fabric until he had bared your breasts and then he pulled back, looking down at you.

You pushed the rest of the dress down until it fell on the floor, then laid back down and extended your arms to him. "Come here, Aemond," you said for the second time that night.

He shoved down the trousers, kicked them aside and spread your legs open before he kissed you again. He was so warm, his skin ablaze against yours, and you pulled him down to you, unable to get enough of him.

He began to kiss your neck, long fingers teasing your nipple, and then his mouth was on your breast and you moaned, the sharp sting of pleasure making you arch against him. He reached down lower, between your thighs, and you gasped.

"Tell me what you like," he murmured against your lips.

"Oh," you breathed as he settled on a steady rhythm, drawing tiny circles on the knot of nerves, "you're doing fine," you managed.

"Fine is not what I'm aiming for," he said, and slipped two fingers inside you and you cried out, your hips beginning to rock against him. "I want you to come for me," he added, curling his fingertips inside you.

"Aemond," you whispered, one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing at his hair. "I- I'm-" you pressed your face to his neck a moment before the orgasm barreled through you, your cry muffled against his skin.

You felt him kneeing your legs apart and then he was pushing inside you. As ready as you were for him, he was big, and you bit down on your lower lip, still recovering and still wanting more.

"You can take me," he murmured soothingly as he kissed your temple. "Next time you come, I want to feel it around my cock," he said, and you whimpered as he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

He pulled back slowly, eyes on you, making sure you were okay, and then snapped his hips. You let your head fall back, and felt his teeth on your jaw, raking gently. "So good," he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long," he said as he settled on long, slow strokes. "So fucking long."

"Aemond," you closed your eyes, the feeling of him moving inside you beginning to send you back into that delicious spiral.

He reached between you, fingertips finding you and you moaned. "I can feel you," he said, "you-"

You cried out as you came, and felt him grab your hips to steady himself as he reached his own orgasm.

* * * * *

As reserved and aloof as you had always thought him to be, he hadn't stopped kissing and caressing you in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The man was full of surprises.

"Stay with me," he murmured against your cheek. "Tonight."

"How can I go when you've got me completely caged in," you teased, looking down at the arms he had wrapped around you and the way his legs were tangled with yours.

"Damn, I was trying to be stealthy," he smirked back. "We'll get breakfast, maybe I'll let you lure me back to bed again."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Rewriting history, are we? I remember trying to leave and someone grabbing my arm."

His eyes became serious on yours. "If I could rewrite history, I would have grabbed you a lot sooner." He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "But I mean to make up for it."

You smiled against him, and let him pull you closer, thinking you were only too happy to let him make it up to you for a long, long time.

[ragingbookdragon]

But Are You Really?

COD Boys x Reader Blurbs

**********************************************************************

Price:

She frowned at the guards before her who were too busy chittering to notice her. “Excuse me,” she repeated herself for what seemed like the millionth time. “I’m here to see Jon. Can you please call him?”

One of the guards looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Look love, we were born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you, he works here! Jon!”

“There’s a fuck-ton of John’s here, lady, be specific!” the other griped and before she could respond, a voice echoed across the gate.

“Missus Price!”

The guards spun as she made eye contact with the Scotsman jogging over; relief flooded her. “Oh, John, thank goodness.”

Soap looked over the guards. “Is everything alright here?”

One of the men snorted. “Ah, you must be the John she’s looking for, Sergeant. Keeps telling us a John is waiting for her.”

The Scot cocked a brow. “Because the Captain is.”

The two went white. “Wait—you mean, she’s…?”

“Captain Price’s girlfriend? She is.” Soap took her arm in his like a gentleman. “C’mon, Missus Price, I’ll take you to the Skipper.”

Gaz:

“I’m telling you that Kyle is my boyfriend,” she sighed for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Bullshit,” one retorted. “You’re too sexy for a guy like him.”

“First of all, sexy coming from you isn’t a compliment. Secondly, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? ‘A guy like him?’” she glared at them. “Kyle’s a fucking hero and one badass motherfucker who works hand-in-hand with the Captain Jonathan Price while your asses are sitting here guarding a fucking gate.”

The other guard held his gun and took a step towards her. “What did you just say to us?”

She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she was very much so unarmed against two armed guards. “I—uh, I—”

“There you are, babe, I thought you got lost.”

They turned to see Gaz coming through the gate, a grin on his face; her sour expression flipped into a dazzling smile, and she greeted him with a kiss that had the guards looking away, and Gaz blushing when they pulled away.

“Nah, the modeling shoot just took a bit longer than I thought.” She took his hand as he walked her through. “Wanna see the promo-shots?”

“Always.”

Soap:

She cocked a hand on her hip and glared at the guards. “Look, I’m not even going to try and be nice. Call John MacTavish down here now.”

“We aren’t privy to taking orders from civilians,” the guard griped. “Get lost, lady.”

“JOHN MACTAVISH! BRING YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!” she bellowed from outside the gates, cupping her hands to her mouth for added distance. “IF I HAVE TO COME IN THERE TO FIND YOU, I’M GOING TO—!”

The guards tried to shush her when a yell echoed from the courtyard, “OR YOU’LL WHAT!” they all spun around to see Soap stomping over. “BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND IS LIKE BEING IN HELL ITSELF!”

“OH, THAT’S RICH CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU KEEP MY FUCKING APARTMENT SEVENTY-SIX WHEN YOU’RE THERE!”

The guards weren’t even going to try and pry the two apart as they yelled in each other’s faces about leaving the toilet seat up and forgetting to unload the dishwasher, but while she had that on him, he seemed to have the fact that she moved his shit around the apartment as revenge.

She tried to walk away, but Soap’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back over the base line and into the base. “You let go—”

“Aye, shut ‘ur trap,” he retorted. “Nattering like a fucking cicada in my goddamn ear. Might as well chatted it off.”

“Oh, you fucking bas—”

Ghost:

She could feel the weight of their stares on her, and their laughter chipped away at her mood. “I’m being serious,” she muttered. “Simo—Ghost, and I are dating.”

The guard cackled. “Yeah, and I’m the fucking Queen of England.” He waved her off. “That bastard doesn’t have a girlfriend. Look at him. He doesn’t even have any friends.”

Indignation shot through her, and she got up in the guard’s face. “Simon has friends. He has Price, and Gaz, and Soap. He doesn’t have many, but he does have friends. And he has me. I am Simon’s girlfriend.” Fear dripped in her veins as the guards seemed to stand offensively at her, and she added with her heart pounding in her chest, “And I’m as cowardly as they come, but if it came to it, I…I would lay down my life for him. The world needs Simon. I need Simon. He’s a hero and a better man than either of you.”

One raised their hand at her, either to strike her or intimidate her with a feint but his hand didn’t get farther than beside his head when someone grabbed it, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. “You gonna strike a civilian, soldier?” a cold voice rumbled behind his ear. “That’s an offense I’d see you punished for. Even more so for it being my lover.”

Her expression eased as she saw Ghost appear before her. “Simon,” she murmured, and his eyes darted to hers, softening a quick moment before turning frigid again.

“If you ever raise a hand to her again, I’ll cut it off and make you eat it one finger at a time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal!” the guard hurried and Ghost shoved him to the ground and secured a hand around her waist, bringing her over the gate.

“C’mon, love.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Sorry about that. Tried to come earlier but the meeting ran late.”

“You were there when I needed you,” she replied, leaning her head against his chest. “Like a knight in masked armor.”

He looked at her, eyes shining in a way that told her he was smiling at her.

[softspiderling]

catch me or i go (houdini) | r.c.

summary: rafe witnesses a skilled burglar in the middle of the burglary. also, he can’t quiet seem to stop putting his foot in his mouth when it comes to you

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 6,6k words oops

warnings: mention of peterkin and what rafe did to her, cursing

author's note: i was listening to houdini by dua lipa and somehow got inspired to write this. also kind of lost myself in this fic bc i enjoyed writing it so much. pls leave a comment/like if you liked it and reblog to share. ily!!!

“Are you sure you want to sell it off? We can put it in storage for you.”

Rafe waved the guy off, pushing a fifty in his hand. “It’s fine, just sell it for me, I don’t want to see it again, it’s gaudy as fuck.”

The guy, Jacob or whatever, scratched his head, but seemed pleased enough with the tip that he got into the car with the rest of his team, the trucks pulling off the property.

“Fucking finally,” Rafe sighed, running his hands over his buzzed hair. The renovation of the house was his first step of distancing himself from Ward and he started by getting rid of the ridiculous furniture Rose had chosen. While Rafe knew that it was going to be a pain redecorating, he’d live in the comfort of his own space, instead of being reminded of his psychotic stepmother whenever he sat in the living room. Rafe was about to go back inside when he heard a loud crash coming from Mr. Jenkins’ property. He hesitated for a split second. Rafe never really liked Mr. Jenkins, he was a nosy motherfucker and always liked to call the sheriff’s department when the parties got a little louder than usual. But if that old fuck died right now only to be found like a few weeks later? That stench would probably sit in his nose for months. So might as well be proactive now.

Ducking between the bushes - he really needed to call the guy who trimmed their greens - Rafe jogged over to Mr. Jenkins’ property, slowing his pace when he reached the property line.

“Mr. Jenkins?” he called, trying to sneak a glance into the house, without being spotted at the same time. It’d just be his luck that Mr. Jenkins shot him in the face for evading his property.

Nothing.

Served him right for trying to do the right thing.

Rafe turned on his heel, ready to return home when he caught movement in the second story window: Someone was climbing out of the window.

Reacting quickly, Rafe ducked beneath the bushes, hiding as he watched a girl shut the window behind her, tiptoeing across the patio roof and then scaling down the gutter, all the while carrying a huge backpack. She must’ve robbed Mr. Jenkins’ house, based on her dark clothing and the red bandana covering half of her face.

Rafe’s curiosity was piqued, and he didn’t even hesitate to follow her as she snuck off the property through the yard. He kept in the shadows, not wanting to alert her to his presence as she kept a rather slow pace to keep the attention off of her. Rafe followed her a few blocks down the neighborhood, until she took a left turn into a small, dark alley, but he hid behind the corner of a house when she stopped, pulling the bandana off. Rafe stared at the side of her face, knowing he’d seen her somewhere before, but not quite remembering where from. The lighting was also not helping, as he barely could make out her features in the shadows, while she tugged a floral shirt out of the backpack, throwing it over her black top. After having fixed her outfit, she kept walking, and right as Rafe stepped out behind the house, his foot caught onto an empty glass bottle, making an unnecessary loud noise.

Rafe froze, noticing how her shoulders tensed, barely looking over her shoulder, before taking off in a sprint.

“Wait!” He called, probably the dumbest thing he could have said, running after her but even before rounding the second right corner, she disappeared.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but nothing. One of his neighbors was outside tending to her flowers, giving him a weird look. Rafe only let out a polite chuckle, giving her a wave before he turned on his heel, making his way back home.

“How the fuck did she just disappear into thin air?” He muttered to himself. As he walked through his gate, he couldn’t help to peek over to Jenkins’ house if the old man was home already, but the house was still dark. Rafe tried to get back to work looking at new furniture, but his mind kept going back to the thief. As the sun started to set Rafe finally heard Jenkins’ Aston Martin pull into his drive way, and he figured it wouldn’t take long until the sheriff’s department showed up.

Minutes went by, then hours, and Rafe started to wonder if there was some other case Shoupe had to attend to, must be a real big case if he couldn’t even spare one deputy to check out Jenkins. Then again, Rafe would’ve had heard about it. Kildare wasn’t that big. It was already dark by the time the sheriff’s car pulled up on the street. Shortly after, the bell rang and as inconspicuously as possible, Rafe opened the door, feigning surprise.

“Shoupe. What brings you here at this hour?”

The sheriff only looked at Rafe unimpressed. He was pretty sure that Shoupe still resented him for the entire Peterkin thing, but innocent until proven guilty, right?

“Rafe… There was a break in at Mr. Jenkins’ house and I’m just here to ask if you saw anything suspicious,” Shoupe said, flipping open a small notepad.

Rafe rubbed his chin, sighing. “A break in huh? That sucks. I haven’t heard anything, though, sorry that I am of no help. What was stolen?”

“Jewelry that belonged to his late wife. The thief broke into the safe and completely emptied it. Took all the cash, too,” Shoupe said, scribbling something down on his notepad before looking at Rafe again.

“Bummer… I’ll let you know though, if I happen to remember something,” Rafe added.

Shoupe let out a grunt, stuffing his notepad away and turned to leave. Rafe stood in the doorway, hesitating, before calling out.

“Hey Shoupe.”

He turned around, raising a brow at Rafe.

“What took you guys so long?”

“What do you mean, son? We got here as soon as Mr. Jenkins called us.”

Huh.

“Really?” Rafe said, thinking. “Sorry, I just thought Mr. Jenkins has been home for a while now and you’re just now questioning me. Was wondering how fast you would get here if I had a problem.”

Shoupe eyed him suspiciously. “Mr. Jenkins didn’t notice the break in until an hour ago, his security system was active when he got home, so he had no reason to suspect anything…. You sure you didn’t see anything?”

“Positive,” Rafe insisted. “Have a good night, Shoupe.”

The sheriff stood on the porch for another second before he left with a small headshake, leaving Rafe with his thoughts as he shut the door. The thief must have been a pro. Bypassing the security system and taking just enough to delay the sheriff’s department from investigating? That wasn’t an easy feat. To say that Rafe was intrigued was an understatement. The way she moved with such stealth and precision proved how she knew her way around sneaking in and out. There was no way this was her first hit. He wondered what motivated her to rob the house, if she was just a plain poor Pogue, or a Kook, doing it for the thrill of it.

Rafe had to find out more about the thief. Even two drinks in, he still had to think about her. And when he set his mind on something - or someone - there was no getting past it. He knew it was going to haunt him until he figured it out. Figure her out. Problem was, how the fuck would he? Right, Kildare wasn’t that big, but it wasn’t like he could just waltz around looking for her either. And chances are she was just some tourist, looking for some fun. Before he could start forming a plan to find out who she wa, his phone buzzed, distracting him.

Top: scarlet’s throwing a party tonite. u in?

Rafe thumbed at his screen, having half a mind to decline the invitation, but when he looked up, taking in the empty room, he almost got depressed. Why was he sitting on the fucking floor, thinking about some random girl he was probably never going to see again? Downing the last of his drink, he texted Top that he’d see him at Scarlet’s.

By the time Rafe arrived, the party was already in full swing. Weaving through the crowd, he greeted the familiar faces, gravitating towards the living room where he knew Scarlet’s father kept the expensive stuff.

“Hey Rafe!”

Lifting his head, he saw Topper on the couch with some girl, waving him over. Rafe took his time walking over, because what was he, a dog?

“’sup Top,” he greeted his friend with a light slap to the shoulder. “Give me your drink.”

“Alright, damn bro,” Topper said, handing Rafe his drink, before gesturing over to you, introducing you to him. Rafe gave you a nod as you smiled shyly at him, not bothering to exchange pleasantries. The last thing he needed right now was you simpering over him, no matter how pretty you were.

“Right, so where were we…” Topper said, apparently picking up the previous conversation you were having before Rafe joined them. “Are you leaving for university anytime soon?”

“Uh… No. I could go, but I don’t want to leave my mom all by herself, you know,” you answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere else but at this party. Rafe gave you a quick once over as he sipped on Topper’s drink. You were pretty, he figured. Maybe a bit mousy for his taste, with the shirt under your dress and a denim jacket on top? Other girls your age would have worn only the dress and maybe even cut a slit in it, just for the sake of it. Rafe’s brows furrowed as he looked at you more closely, pausing.

“… I know you?”

Topper gave him a very unsubtle look as he chuckled awkwardly, trying to play his friend’s rudeness off, while you just sat there, your back ramrod straight, smiling at him bashfully.

“She used to go to school with us? Then uh… Transferred during her senior year.”

Squinting his eyes at you, Rafe tried to think back to his school years, before realizing.

“Right, your dad embezzled like millions of dollars from his company right?”

Topper cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling and you only smiled tightly at Rafe, the corners of your mouth not quite reaching your eyes.

“Um.. I think I’ll grab a drink, Topper,” you said, excusing yourself, quickly disappearing between the people. Topper waited until you disappeared to elbow Rafe into the side, who only smirked into his drink.

“What’s her deal?”

“Are you joking?” Topper asked with a sigh, pinching his nose. “You can’t just say shit like that man, it’s obvious she’s embarrassed. Why would you bring up her father?”

“Get off your high horse, it’s not like I embezzled a bunch of money,” Rafe huffed, shoving Topper off of him with an eyeroll. He knew that Topper was frustrated with him, but honestly, why would he care if he hurt your feelings. Topper inhaled deeply and Rafe just knew that an lecture was incoming.

“She’s a good kid. Lives just on the outskirts of the Cut now with her mom. I guess they can still afford to live on Figure 8, but her and her mother are too embarrassed to come back after all of their money was seized and her father got locked up in jail. Which is probably why we never see her around. Now, we’re definitely going to see her less because you’re such a dick.”

Rafe was only half-listening to Topper, processing what he had just been told, the gears in his head turning.

“Wait, what?” he asked, sitting up straight and looked at Topper, finally taking the conversation seriously. “How would they still be able to afford living on Figure 8 when all of their assets were seized?”

Topper shrugged his shoulders. “How the hell should I know? I’m just telling you what she told me.” He glanced to the back and paused, before looking back to Rafe. “She’s coming back. Just… Think before you speak.”

If this was any situation, Rafe would’ve probably bit Topper’s head off for being told what to do, but for once, Rafe decided to lean back and listen. A short while later, you slipped past a kissing couple, joining them on the couch, holding onto a red solo cup with both hands.

“What kind of toxic waste did Scarlet mix you?” Rafe asked as some sort of peace offering.

“Oh this?” you lifted your cup, laughing awkwardly. “It’s juice. Don’t really like alcohol.”

Rafe almost choked on his whiskey, and he let out a cough, trying to hide his surprise while Topper only leaned his head back with an exasperated look on his face, you only stared at him with an open mouth.

“Sorry, went down the wrong pipe.”

After that, Rafe didn’t ask you that much, letting Topper lead the conversation and instead just soaking up information about you. In the brief interaction he had with you, Rafe somehow got the feeling that you didn’t like him that much. He didn’t even know why.

Okay, he knew why. But honestly, he was just asking what everyone would ask, right?

When Rafe got home from Scarlet’s, he didn’t know that much more from you. After he really started paying attention to you, he realized that you never really divulged that much information about yourself, despite answering all of the questions. You were much smarter than Rafe had previously assumed. He wondered how many people you had fooled. But all of this was still a theory, and he had to put that to a test.

The next day, Rafe spent his morning asking the neighborhood about your family, disguising it as friendly neighborhood chatter and it was really far too easy. If there was one thing one needed to know about the people living on Figure 8 is, that they loved to yap.

“- just dreadful. That poor girl. Her mother took her out of the academy in her senior year and now they live next to Franklin Stewart on the other side of the island…” Susannah shook her head as she feigned distress, but Rafe didn’t believe an ounce of the compassion she was showing. She used to be best tea buddies with Rose, that really said it all.

“Oh man… I really hope her family is doing alright,” Rafe said stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Anyways… Thanks for the chat, Mrs. Cooper. I’ve kept you long enough.”

She only waved him off with an obnoxious laugh, “Please, don’t you worry about it. Give Rose my best wishes, okay?”

Rafe gave her a smile, which immediately dropped as soon as he turned to leave. “What a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, walking back to his house. At least it paid off having to talk to Susannah, since he now knew where you lived. He didn’t ponder over it long before he got on his bike, riding over to the Cut. As the mansions and well groomed front yards slowly turned smaller, one might say modest, he couldn’t imagine downgrading from Figure 8 to the cut. Though, now that he thought about it, he figured his family was pretty close from having to give up their life on the north side of the island. Rafe let his bike roll to a stop when he reached Franking Stewart’s house, laying his eyes on the only neighboring house.

It was pretty okay for a house on the Cut. Still on the cut, though.

He took off his helmet, placing it on his bike and getting off, walking in front of his house, contemplating his next move, when the door suddenly opened and a person exited. For a split second, he thought it was you, but upon closer inspection, he realized that it was your mother. She tugged a sun hat on, before pausing when she saw Rafe on the street.

“Can I help you?”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you… I’m Rafe, a friend of your daughters…” He said, approaching the house to avoid yelling all over the street.

Your mother beamed at him. “Really? I barely get to meet any of my daughter’s friends. She’s not home right now, but would you like to come in for a glass of lemonade?”

Rafe hesitated. On the one hand, it would be a perfect opportunity to find out more about your situation, and if you really were the thief like he suspected. On the other hand, if you happened to come home while he was still there, you’d immediately know that there was something going on. Then again, high risk, high reward?

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Rafe followed your mother into your quaint home, and while your mother was blabbering away, he took the time looking around the kitchen.

“- she’s a good girl, bless her. A bit too serious, though. I always try to encourage her to live a little, you know?” your mother handed Rafe a glass of ice cold lemonade, which he gladly accepted. He was a sucker for a good old homemade lemonade.

“She is a bit shy,” Rafe agreed with your mother, only making her laugh.

“And very headstrong. Which is why it’s so hard for me to get her to change her mind on anything. I’m just so upset that she took the whole thing with her father so hard… The burden of that really shouldn’t fall on her shoulders. Ever since we moved out here, she got more withdrawn, angry. I know she’s still upset, but I really feel like she’d be happier if she got out of her shell again.”

Hm. Maybe you were stealing to help your mother pay the bills, help your family stay afloat.

“Yeah, I’d know a thing or two about that.”

Your mother laid her eyes on Rafe, smiling sadly.

“I was very sad to hear about your father’s passing. I didn’t know him very well, but I’m sure he was a good man.”

Rafe almost scoffed, because only if she knew, but the noise died in his throat when your mother gave him a shoulder squeeze, rubbing his back.

“I hope you’re alright, honey. It’s hard to lose a parent at such a young age.”

His hand tightened around his lemonade glass, the coldness somewhat settling him down. He hasn’t felt the touch of a caring parent for a long time. “Thank you,” he pressed out, giving your mother a stiff smile. “Um… I should go. Don’t want to cause any more of an inconvenience,” he said, standing up.

“Oh please, don’t worry about it, I always love to meet my daughter’s friends.”

Your mother led him out of the house, and when Rafe passed the staircase that lead upstairs, his eyes caught a very familiar floral shirt tossed carelessly on the bottom of the stairs. Your mother followed his eyesight, palming her forehead, embarrassed.

“Oh god, please forgive the mess. I always try to tell her to keep her things in order,” she quickly said, picking up the shirt and hanging it over her arm. Rafe however only waved her off, giving her a charming smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a shirt.”

After bidding good bye to your mother, Rafe drove to the nearest beach, shutting his bike off to take moment to process. The shirt confirmed his suspicion, you were the thief he saw breaking into Jenkins’ house. He still didn’t know what your motives for stealing were. It was clear to him that your mother was very open about what your father had done, and you still seemed to be doing fairly well, all things considered. Where you paying the bills with the shit you stole from other people’s houses? Rafe stared at to sea for a second, before he got an idea, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

rafe: anything going down tonight?

top: uh

top: i think there’s a party at the boneyard.

top: pogue party, tho

rafe: thats fine.

rafe: you think you can get your friend to come?

top: … why? so you can embarrass her some more?

rafe: just want a second chance, maybe apologize

top: i’ll see what i can do. no promises, tho

“So, why did you really want her to come?”

Rafe was aware that Topper didn’t even have to say your name for him to realize who he was talking about. Rafe took a sip from his drink, wincing a bit. While he did say that he didn’t care about the fact this was a pogue party, they did always buy the cheapest shit. He could feel Topper’s gaze on him, scrutinizing and a little suspicious.

“I didn’t really make a good first impression. Just thought it’d be nice to make amends,” he finally said, his eyes set on the crowd around the bonfire, studiously not looking at his friend.

“Amends, huh?” Topper replied, sounding not at all convinced. “You’ve never been the type to care about stuff like that, Rafe.”

Rafe shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “People change, Top.”

“Or they have ulterior motives,” Topper shot back almost immediately, and Rafe couldn’t help but grin at the accusation.

He finally looked up to meet Topper’s gaze, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Can’t a guy try to be better without being accused of having a hidden agenda?”

Topper held his gaze for a moment longer before breaking into a grin himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "Just...don't mess with her, okay? She's been through enough."

Rafe raised his hands in surrender, his grin still in place. "Promise, Top. No messing around."

He did intend to make amends, but not for the reasons Topper thought. There were still so many questions Rafe needed answers to, and he was willing to play nice to get to them.

Topper only rolled his eyes at him, looking to the side for a bit. “Head’s up,” he muttered, before straightening his back, greeting you when you joined them.

“Hey guys,” you said, waving at them sheepishly.

Topper gave you a brief hug. “Hey, I was hoping you could make it. You remember, Rafe, right?”

“Yeah of course,” you replied, your voice light, but Rafe couldn’t help but think that your gaze somewhat hardened when you laid your eyes on him. He hoped that he was still able to salvage the relationship.

“Hey. Nice to see you again,” Rafe told you, giving you a charming grin. “You got anything to drink yet?” He looked pointedly at Topper, who stared back at him, his expression unmoving. Rafe inclined his head, raising his brow and Topper bit back a sigh, standing up.

“Let me get you something to drink. No alcohol, right?”

“Uh no, you don’t have to,” you insisted. “I’m not really thirsty anyways.”

Topper waved her off, lifting his own cup. “It’s fine. I need a refill anyway.” With that, Topper turned to leave, leaving you with Rafe.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable the other night,” Rafe started and you looked at him in surprise, your eyes widened. “I might have been a bit insensitive, maybe a bit too forward. I’m really sorry.”

It felt like swallowing gravel, the over the top apology, but he hoped that it came across as sincere.

You let out a breath, your forehead pinched, like you were holding something back. He saw a flicker of something in your eyes, and he realized you didn’t buy a single thing he just said.

“It’s fine,” you then said, smiling at him and Rafe raised an eyebrow, seeing past your facade, though he had to admit that you were a good actor. If he couldn’t get close to you by being nice, it seemed like he had to resort to his back up plan

“We good, then?” he said, offering you his hand, which you shook, after hesitating for a brief second.

“Sure.”

You leaned back against the boulder Rafe was sitting on, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the two of you. Rafe considered throwing himself into the black water, when you finally spoke up.

“My mom told me you came by this morning.”

“Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and your mother saw me outside your house,” Rafe explained, glancing over at you. “Hope you didn’t mind that I called myself a friend.”

“It’s okay..” You trailed off, like you were about to add something else, but hesitating. Usually, he’d be fed up with people not speaking when they want to, but he was intrigued and figured he’d give you the time you needed to spit it out.

“What did you and my mom talk about?” you asked lightly, but Rafe knew how loaded the question actually was. He waited for a beat, sipping on his drink before he answered, enjoying playing with you.

“Not much, really. Just said how happy she was to meet one of your friends… She’s really nice,” he added and you gave him a wry smile.

“Thanks.”

Rafe paused for a beat.

“You guys are doing okay, right? Financially, I mean?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he was praying to god he was pressing the right buttons.

“Yes. Why?”

“Was just wondering,” Rafe answered nonchalantly, shrugging with his shoulders. “I remember when Ward’s company hit a rough patch and we almost lost our house. But now, we’re better than I ever, and really appreciate my home and everything in it. I can’t even imagine how it feels like to lose everything just like that.”

He turned to look at you, catching how you were clenching your jaw and like the perfect friend he was, Topper returned with two cups in his hand.

“Hey, so they didn’t have juice, but I go-”

“I’m so sorry, Topper,” you said, interrupting him with a small smile. “I have to go. I forgot that I promised my mom I would help her with something early in the morning. But I really appreciate you inviting me out.”

“I- What?” Topper asked, confused but you only gave him a quick wave, almost ignoring Rafe entirely, before you left. Rafe would almost feel bad for pushing you, if he didn’t exactly know where you were going. Topper on the other hand, turned to his friend, glaring at him.

“Bro, what the fuck?”

Rafe drank the last of his drink, clapping Topper on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain soon. I gotta go, text you later, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a reply, tossing his empty cup into a trash bag and walking up the dune to get to his bike. Rafe took the straight way home, but decided to turn the engine off a few blocks before he got home, walking the rest of the way. The estate stood in darkness, not a single sound coming from it as he approached it, deciding to heave himself inside through a window, before deciding to wait.

It didn’t take long until he heard tinkering on the backdoor from the kitchen, then the unmistakable sound of the door clicking open. The door shut almost silently, and then quiet steps echoed over the marble floor. The moonlight shone through the window and that was the only reason Rafe saw you when you walked through the arched doorway of the living room. You froze mid step as you took in the complete lack of- well, anything.

When Rafe turned on the light, you barely reacted.

“How long have you known?” you asked with a sigh, pulling down the bandana, uncovering your face.

“Not long,” Rafe answered, as he leaned in the door way, his arms crossed. “You’re good at what you do, I’ll give you that. I was just paying attention.”

A range of emotions played on your feature - surprise, irritation, realization and then resignation.

“You saw me while I was in Mr. Jenkins’ house, didn’t you? You’re the one who was following me.”

Rafe merely raised an eyebrow and you groaned, pinching your nose.

“And you saw the shirt at my house. Damn it.”

Rafe smirked at your reaction. “So. Why are you doing this?”

Your eyes met his and Rafe actually saw a spark of defiance in them and for the first time, he actually believed you weren’t putting up an act. This was the real you.

“What’s it to you? It’s not like you’re planning on turning me in. Shoupe hates you more than he could ever hate me.”

“Well,” Rafe started, pushing off the door frame and walking over to you, “Let’s just say I’m curious. Clearly you’re a pro, but the question why is really bothering me. You need to pay the bills? Are you doing this for money?”

“What?” You asked, exasperated. “No, I told you, we’re doing fine financially.”

“Yeah ‘cause you’re such an honest person to come by.”

You gave him a look and only scoffed, turning on your heel to leave, but Rafe was quick to grab you by the wrist, holding you back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, releasing your wrist, his eyes burning into yours. “But you’re not just getting off this easily. You tried to fucking rob me, you at least owe me an explanation.”

“I wasn’t going actually fucking rob you!” You bit at him, glaring at him with a challenging look in your eyes. Then, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, a weary expression taking over your face. “Okay! Okay. You want an explanation? Fine.”

Rafe was taken aback by your sudden cooperation, but he wasn’t going to let his surprise show. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m not doing this for money,” you started, your gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Rafe’s shoulder. “I’m doing this because… Because it’s the only way I can get back at the people who ruined my family.

You finally looked at him, your eyes hard. "The people we used to call friends, the people who claimed to care about us, they were the first ones to turn their backs on us when my father was arrested. They didn't waste a second before they started spreading rumors, tarnishing our family name even further."

Rafe was silent for a moment, processing your words. "So you're... what? Stealing from them as some sort of revenge?"

You shrugged, looking away.

“What about the stolen items? If you’re just keeping them, you’re not really that different from your father, are you?”

“What did you just say to me?”

Your nostrils flared and you glared at him, your eyes burning. Interesting. You stole from people who spread gossip about your family, but at the same time, you resented your father, and his actions, Rafe assumed.

“I sell that shit. I’m not getting caught with stolen items,” you then explained, rolling your eyes at him. “And then I give the money away.”

“Hold up, what?” Rafe paused you, frowning. “What you mean you’re “giving the money away”?”

“I don’t have time to tutor you in English.”

“Shit, you really were putting up a shy girl act, weren’t you?” Rafe huffed in disbelief, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes at him and he was speechless for a moment, not having expected your motive. Personally, he would never steal money just to give it away. Why go through all that trouble to gain nothing from it? He had to begrudge you though, you really had a pair of balls on you.

“I’m giving it to people who need it, people who live on the cut,” you elaborated with a sigh.

“You’re actually insane,” Rafe pointed out. He then froze, thinking. “So what were you planning on doing with the stuff you stole from me?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “You were pissing me off and I just wanted to see how far I could get.”

Rafe rubbed his jaw, at loss for words. “You really are something, you know that?”

Your lips twitched in a small smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Figured you would.”

Rafe glanced over at you, taking in your figure, clad in dark clothes, red bandana still in hand. “So what now?”

You seemed to wonder the same, your gaze falling to the floor. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I never thought I’d get caught, let alone by someone like you.”

Rafe tried to not get offended by that.

“Maybe I should get out of the game while I still can get away unscathed.”

“Sounds like a smart idea,” he said and you looked at him, biting your lip.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

Shrugging with his shoulders, Rafe made no move to stop you and nodded slowly, playing with the bandana in your hand.

“Cool… This was great,” you said, walking backwards. “Let’s not do it again.”

Rafe snorted and you turned around to leave, not before pausing, looking back at him.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were, Rafe.”

With a grin, you disappeared into the hallway, no doubt leaving just the way you entered the house, leaving Rafe in the empty living room. That was the last time he saw you for a long time. Topper bombed him with questions, wanting to know what happened, but Rafe waved him off, not wanting to spill secrets that weren’t his to tell, but assured him that the two of your resolved your problems. For a while, Rafe though that you had gone against your words and just kept robbing people, but he hadn’t heard any chatter about any unsolved cases. For a while, Rafe thought that you had moved to the main land, but he happened to bump into your mother on a random afternoon, where she promptly thanked him for being such a good influence on you - which left him really bewildered. Because him? A good influence? He really didn’t want to know what that even meant.

When three months passed without a single sight of you, Rafe started to believe that you were avoiding him. Sure, you lived on the other side of the island, but again; Kildare wasn’t that big. He was bound to see you around at least once a month. Rafe wasn’t even exactly sure why it bothered him so much that he hadn’t seen you. Like, okay, he was curious about your story and the motives behind your burglaries at first, but he figured it all out, right? Rafe shouldn’t be wanting to see you anymore. Maybe he should ask Topper about you. But then again, the last time he did, it ended with you walking off.

“What, run out of girls to torment?”

Rafe lifted his head, surprised to see you grinning at him. He blurted out your name in shock like an idiot. He was so deep in thoughts, he hadn’t even notice you approaching him as he was sitting outside on the patio at Kelce’s party.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a party, what does one do at a party?” you answered, plopping down on the couch next to him, throwing your legs in his lap like you’ve done it 100 times before. You looked different, too, your outfit wildly contrasting to the nice girl from next door outfit you were wearing at Scarlet’s party. Rafe tried to hide his perplexity by plucking the cup out of your hand, taking a big swig, expecting juice or maybe a coke and nearly choked when he realized it was vodka cran (more vodka than cran).

“The hell?” Rafe coughed, giving you a side eye. “I thought you didn’t drink alcohol?”

“Whatever made you think that?”

You reclaimed your cup, drinking from it like it was water, giving him a coy smile. Rafe ducked his head, smirking. So this is what your mother meant by good influence? You seemed less angry, more comfortable in your skin, like you had unburdened yourself from protecting your family’s reputation.

“Well, you definitely should get your liver checked out if you’re making this a regular occurrence.”

“Yeah, pot, kettle,” you shot back, holding your cup out of his reach when he lunged for it again. If Topper happened to walk out to the patio to see Rafe and you bickering again, he didn’t mention it.

And just like that, you fit yourself into his life like you had always been part of it.

There was rarely a morning when you weren’t in the kitchen when Rafe came downstairs in the morning, never questioning how you got in, building stacks and stacks of pancakes with ingredients from his pantry. You even helped him pick out the new furniture for the house, as the rooms of the Cameron estate slowly filled with interior.

The biggest work in progress was the living room, and Rafe scrolled on his laptop looking for a couch that was big enough and fit in with the rest of the decor of the house. You were sitting on the outdoor sofa next to him, your legs thrown over the arm rest like a damn pogue.

“What about this?” Rafe said, flipping his laptop around to show you the white couch with gold lining. It looked classy and he thought it fit right in with the new wall colors.

You glanced at it, shrugging, before doing a double take, frowning.

“That’s tacky as hell.”

“You know, I think I liked you better when you were acting like you were shy,” Rafe sniffed with a dirty look in your direction, keeping on scrolling. You only snickered, picking up another piece of pineapple on the fork, eating it.

“I don’t think you do.”

Rafe ignored you, frowning at his computer screen as he continued his search. It was harder than expected, and at this point he wondered if it would be easier to hire an interior designer.

“Hey Rafe.”

“What?”

Rafe kept his eyes on the screen, not moving an inch, when you suddenly leaned over, leaning your hands on his thighs and pressing your lips against his in a soft, but very decisive kiss. He let out a soft grunt, not having expected it, before he kissed you back, momentarily forgetting his search for furniture. You licked into his mouth briefly, before pulling away, grinning at him as he furrowed his brows at you.

“Still like me better shy?”

author's note: did you like it?🥹

[bakugou-katsukis-wife]

hellooooo can i be 🩰 anon?? ^-^

i wanted to request dabi getting jealous over either shigaraki or twice flirting with y/n!! honestly, i feel like he’d be sooo pissed cause like y/n’s kind of flirting back but she’s just teasing him~~

it can be fluff or smut ^-^ !! i don’t mind~~

thanks again! you seem super sweet and i love your writing!!

Authors note: Hey! Thank you for the request, I'm grateful for your kind words♡♡. I hope i answered your request well!

Ps. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologize before hand-

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x fem!reader

Gener: Smut

Summary: Touya got jealous once he saw you on twice's lap. Things did not end in the best satisfied way you would've wanted. You had to be reminded who you belonged to after all.

Warnings: sexual content, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, p in v, fingering, slight BDSM (uses of belt), toys, spit kink?, masochism?, marking, dom!Touya, Sub!reader, reader has she/Her pronouns, impending release, fleshlight usage, slight degardation, name calling (lil'mouse, brat, slut, doll, princess, etc), (Lmk if I missed any, also not proof read)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

(Nsfw start has been mentioned)

It was a normal day for the L.O.V . They didn't forge any attacks or do anything of the sort.

Shigaraki was coped up in his room, talking to his master while dabi had left to get groceries so that they don't die of starvation.

All the while you, toga, and twice remained at the bar drinking away. It was noon and the sun was still up but, eh.

In your drunken state you didn't realise when and how you ended up in twice's lap as he brushed his fingers through your hair, the proximity between you two going unnoticed by you.

Twice always was a flirty guy, well one of his personalities were. He flirted with you all over the place whenever he could- like right now, hes been telling you how you looked pretty the other night where you and dabi had gone out on his bike; your tight biker's jacket making him blush.

While he still played with your hair you absentmindedly played with his fingers still resting on the bar top, Toga gave her over 3 shots in the past 10 minutes.

"Awe isn't that cute? You're adorable twicey~"

Toga was giggling to herself, not warning you two about dabi coming down the steps and into the bar-

"The fuck is going on?" Uh oh. Dabi's here. Pretty sure he heard you.

You startled away from twice's lap, your finger going on your lips as you innocently looked around, at twice, then yourself, then the bar top with shot glasses and Toga, and then at Touya.

You stifled your giggles, "nothing! Twice was just giving me cushioning so that I don't get sore!" You smiled sweetly. As if nothing was wrong here.

You turned back to twice and bent down a bit to give him a peck on the cheek, thanking him for looking out for you.

You knew dabi stared at your ass, it was right infront of his field of view.

Touya's eyebrows were raised in question as his lips formed a scowl.

The plastic bags melting from where his hands had started heating up. The bags fell, burning to the ground.

"You sick motherfucker. How dare you touch my girl?!" He stalked over to twice, pushing you aside. Grabbing him by the throat as he threatened him. His hand glowing with fire right next to his face.

Before twice could reply though, he turned towards Toga on the other side of the bar, "and you? You know she's light weight!" Toga just shrugged and snickered in amusement.

You watched everything, you didn't like this. It's not fun anymore. You stood their with a pout as your emotions took a toll on you. Fuck, it's the shots you took.

Touya let go of twice after pushing him off the barstool in anger and walked over to you.

He put his thumb and forefinger under your chin and tilted your head up, your doe eyes looking back at him, getting glossy by the minute.

You were sensitive. Very sensitive given your drunk. But that's your charm, you can literally manipulate people with just your eyes. If only you weren't so drunk, an airhead, and God were you a tease.

A single tear escaped from the corner of your eye, Touya was quick to catch it on his finger and press a chaste kiss to your lips.

He then moved to kiss your neck, trailing his kisses up to your ear, "now now baby, if anything I should be crying dont'cha think? I just saw my girl rubbing her ass on another guys lap. That's not a pleasant sight now is it?" He whispered as he pressed another kiss at your ear lobe, nibbling at your skin. His ministrations caused you to shudder under him.

"Let's take this to my room shall we lil'mouse?"

He didn't wait for a response, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards his room.

--- (nsfw starts here.)

He pushed on his bed roughly, staring into your eyes the whole time.

He pulled your ankles till you were sitting at the edge of his bed, legs on his shoulders as he went down on his knees in between your plush thighs. Face to face with what he loved so so much.

"I think this mouse has forgotten who she belongs to. Isn't that right?" He mocked all his questions, looking into your eyes daring you to disobey him in any way.

You just shook your head desperately, tears forming in your eyes "p-please.. m'sorry.." You knew this couldn't be good.

"Please what?, Brat." He spat out as his cold fingers were quick to flipping your skirt up, slapping your inner thigh harshly. He groaned as he saw the wet patch against the lace of your panties.

"You're always wet aren't you? Just waiting for someone to fill you up. Bet that's what was going through that dumb head of yours sitting on that Fucker's lap when I'm not here." His nose nudged the patch as he inhaled your scent with yet another groan.

"N-no.." You whispered at his accusations.

"No? Then what were you thinking that got you this wet hm?" He knew the answer to that. His doll was always eager to be filled with his cock all the time.

You paused for moment. Pondering if you should answer him or not. But your thoughts were cut of quickly, Touya had slipped your panties aside and delivered a sharp slap right against your clit making you squeal loudly.

"Answer me brat." He let a glob of spit flow down his lips onto your already glistening pussy.

The cold fluid making you shiver as you stuttered to respond, "Y-you" You visibly swallowed in sheer nervousness from his glare still on you.

"That's what I thought, now it wasn't so hard now was it princess?" , "yet you decided to flirt with that piece of shit?. That's unacceptable lil'mouse."

His calmness was honestly scaring you now. You expected him to blow up and scream. I mean he did but, this? He sounds so... so chill. It's honestly terrifying, you can't tell what he is planning to do to you.

He could see how your eyes flickered under his gaze, the tinge of fear lacing them.

He smirked as he licked a singular swipe from your rim to your clit, you let out a shaky sigh. Closing your eyes as you savored the feeling.

"Eyes on me doll." He pinched your clit as his hand snaked up under your shirt to play with tits. His tongue slipping inside you, fucking you at a slow and sensual pace You opened your eyes, your hands instinctively going to grab onto his hair as you whimpered "Touya...~"

He stopped your hands, you looked at him in slight shock, you thought he just wanted to eat you out? Wrong.

"Nuh uh baby, you take what I give. Nothing more. Nothing less. You wanna complain?" He got up from under you, you watched as he took his belt off. He grabbed both your wrists and bound them together with his belt. Tightening the straps till the point it actually got painful, "t-too tight Touya!" You screamed, his hand instantly slid down, plunging three fingers into at once. Making you scream out his name.

His pace was relentless, he curled his fingers in the best ways as you became a squirming, moaning mess underneath him.

You felt the knot in you tightening to the point of bursting any minute now, Touya felt it too. He knew the tell tale sign of your walls clamping down on his finger, you were almost there. Almost. You were moaning a string of words telling him how good you felt and how close you were, you knew your release was close, just one more thrust...

Touya pulled his hands away, laughing at your whine of frustration as tears went down your pretty face.

He saw how you tried to close your thighs to rub them together, but his hand came in between.

"Awe isn't that you cute? You're adorable doll~" He coo'ed at you, mocking your words from before.

You whined more, your nose sniffling "Touya! This isn't fair!" You cried out, your bottom lip wobbling

He chuckled and reached down to take your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it.

He unbuttoned his jeans sliding them down, just enough to take his dick out.

"Should've thought about that before babe." He smirked

Shivers went down your spine once Touya rubbed his dick agasint your folds, covering himself in your slick. You were still sensitive from his previous touches. He knew that.

Without much warning, he shoved himself balls deep in one single thrust. Your back arched, eyes rolling back.

"F-fuck. You're still so tight baby- ugh"

God the sounds you made, Touya can only assume everyone outside knows what's happening in here.

Touya's thrusts were sharp, quick, and mildly painful. His pace wasn't for you, it was for him. He was using you as his personal cocksleeve. He grabbed your thighs, your legs now over his shoulder, putting you in a mating press. The new angle making you scream out loud.

He pinched your nipples and squeezed your tits, his mouth didn't leave your neck. You're pretty sure there'll be dozens of purple spots litering your skin the next morning.

You tried to move your hands to hold onto him as he thrusted into you with such strength your scared you'll slide up and hit your head against the headboard. Unfortunately your hands are still bound, and painful. But that only added to your pleasure,

You felt your self getting closer again. Your walls squeezed him deliciously, "don't you dare cum y/n" He warned.

"Touya..." You whimpered,

"You'll only suffer if you do baby."

"Listen to me like the good girl you are yea?"

All you could do was nod and take what he gave you, you could do nothing but obey to him. After all you belonged to him at the end of each day.

He hand came down to circle your clit, you were twitching uncontrollably now. Holding back your orgasm as Touya continued to ram into you. The Stimulations against your clit were just adding to your need to cum

"Touya... please let me cum!" You pleaded, "I don't think so doll. I don't think you deserve to cum. Fuck, you don't even deserve my cum"

That's when he pulled out, your eyes grew wide and sniffles were heard coming from you,

"I hate you Touya, you sick bastard!"

Touya only chuckled in response, "Hah, maybe I should ask twice to teach you manners? Bet that sounds good to you hm?"

"No. Fuck you Touya!" .

"Ya already did y/n. I don't think you've learnt your lesson yet. You still have the nerve to talk back to me?"

You scoffed looking away, tears still flowing down your puffed up cheeks.

You heard him shuffling around, That's when he came back with his fleshlight...

"Why dont'cha watch me fuck this instead, it deserves my cum way more than you do."

He held the flashlight in his hand as he angles his dick into it, jerking himself off with it.

You whined, taking your tied wrists, rubbing your hands on your own pussy trying to get off but failing miserably. Touya only laughed as he got closer to his release in the fleshlight.

"Ah, fuck. 's so good"

"Ugh. Better then you, ateast it doesn't talk back like a whiney slut"

His hands were going faster now, his groans and huffs getting more frequent. He was close.

All you could do was watch him cum in the fleshlight while you were left high and extremely wet from your impending release.

After all, you could only take what he gave you for today.

Navi . Masterlist

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