#the only thing about it is that it’s going to be SO ANNOYING to grow out

[servicpop]

family trip adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader

ⓘ established relationship au

Through the excessive amount of visiting each other's houses almost everyday of the week, it was only natural that your families would grow close.

It wasn't a surprise when you received a pretty little invitation by Adrien to come join him and his family on a small trip to the coast. Since you had nothing better to do that weekend, you gladly accepted. Adrien brought up his family's van and offered you a ride in which you also agreed.

You never thought to ask Adrien about his family, assuming it was a topic he didn't particularly like as he never talked about them anyways. So seeing two little girls and a young boy that were the splitting image of Adrien if not his parents. They were a rather rowdy bunch as Adrien's mother rounded up the little troublemakers into the 2nd row of the van while her husband was busy packing things into the trunk.

“Why didn't you tell me you had siblings? And so many,” You question, turning to Adrien who seemed to be on his last straw trying to get his siblings to calm down.

“Didn't think I seemed like an only child,” he quipped.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes when Adrien's mother walks up to you. She's gorgeous, straight nut brown hair, short and slim like a doe. It's strikingly different from Adrien's rough appearance.

“Oh dear, it seems like there's only one chair left,” Mrs Castillo's voice is like a hydrating balm to the soul as she places a hand on her cheek.

You open your mouth to propose a solution — as the responsible person you are — but you're acutely cut off by prince charming himself.

“He can sit on my lap, no problem.” You can see the relieved expression Adrien's mother carries before she walks off into the passenger's side of the van, leaving you absolutely speechless.

“Since when did I agree to that?” You sigh, but it's ultimately the only solution you can think of on the spot.

Adrien slips into the back seat first, getting himself comfortable before patting his thighs. There's a sour expression on your face as you climb in, settling yourself on Adrien's lap. He slips on the seatbelt from behind you and slides his arms around your waist, holding you close.

“Don't worry, I'll be your seatbelt.”

“I wasn't worrying.”

The ride was anything but smooth. You were profoundly aware of every single movement Adrien made underneath you, the soft thumping of his heart rattled against his chest every time you leaned back to rest.

Not to mention his demon-like siblings turning around to ask you bizarre questions.

“Did Adrien kidnap you?” “Do you think you can do a cartwheel and then the splits because I can.” “How much money did he pay you to be here?”

You couldn't even answer one question before another was interjected. Even Adrien seemed annoyed by this constant noise.

“Stop bothering him,” His tone caught you off-guard; it was harsh and grounded like he truly meant it. It didn't seem like the kids understood the message until Adrien swatted at them to turn around.

He sighed, leaning back into the car seat, pulling you down with him.

“They can be a damn handful sometimes,” He exhaled, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

The soft gesture, the heat radiating off his face to your shoulder, and his forearms locked tightly around your waist made something in your heart ache ever so slightly. Your fingers hesitantly move to rest on Adrien's arm, patting it gently like you're consoling him.

A few more hours pass by and the kids have already fallen asleep, not a sign of liveliness from the three. Your own eyelids start to grow heavy until the van drives over a rather large speed bump. From the scratchy sound of tires crunching along gravel, you can pretty much assume that the road is going to be filled with dents and bumps.

A barely audible groan comes out from Adrien's throat and you freeze up. Did you hurt him? Your movements are cautious as you turn your torso to look back at him, trying not to move so much so you don't hurt him further.

“Shit, are you okay?” Your eyes narrow and your nose crinkles in concern, Adrien has his head lowered before he lifts it up to meet your gaze.

The hands planted firmly around your body tighten and he pulls you back up against him.

“Just— Stay still,” he grunts out, forehead returning back to your shoulder.

You shuffle just back to get comfortable just enough that you practically grind against the tent growing in Adrien's pants. It takes you a moment to realize what was happening. A small gasp escapes your lips as you grip the flesh on his arm, keeping your head dipped.

The van drives over another bump and you feel it now. Adrien's hand clasps around your shoulder blade and he muffles a strangled grunt again. Your body grows hotter by the second, heat pooling in your lower half.

Now you were both hard.

“Ah shit, prez, you're gonna kill me,” He lets out a dry chuckle, hips twitching from underneath you. You crave it just as bad as you're rocking your body against his in a steady pace. There were too many people in the van, it was way too dangerous to fix the little problem.

“Wait it out,” You whisper, patting his arm once more like trying to calm down a dog.

He doesn't respond, instead, he grumbles into your shoulder.

The van finally comes to a stop. The engine whirrs off and the kids are hustled out of the doors before you and Adrien climb out behind them. There's a satisfying crackle and pop of your joints as you stretch, letting the good ol' sunlight kiss your deprived skin.

Getting the bags out of the trunk wasn't much work since you packed only for 3 days so you rolled your suitcase into the lobby alongside Adrien's family. A small notification pops up on your screen, a check-in from your family which you happily reply to.

Since it was such a large gathering, the family had split into different rooms with you and Adrien sharing one.

The reception hands Adrien's mother the keycard to each room and she hands them out, passing one to Adrien.

You turn your attention to him to see the guy already racing his way towards you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past his family. You can hear a brief exchange of words between him and his dad, picking up on the lousy excuse that you're 'tired.'

Through the lobby, past the pools, around the bar and to your shared room. Adrien smashes the key card against the reader and he slams the door open.

“Fucking finally,” he sighs, shutting the door behind himself and burying his hands into the back of your head. He's tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling it back before latching his mouth onto yours.

He's practically welding himself to you, devouring your lips in a heated kiss. He pulls back to look into your eyes before he goes in for a second serving. Adrien guides you towards the bedroom, lips never leaving yours as he gently pushes you back onto the bed.

“You know how hard it was to keep myself in line?” Adrien chuckled against your cheek, his hands beginning to descend your body, tracing all the way down to the waistband of your pants.

“That's your job baby, not mine.”

You have half the heart to complain when he's pulling off your pants, lifting your hips off the bed to help him slide your clothes off. He pulls both your legs up and over his shoulders before kneeling onto the ground beside the bed.

“Adrien,” you call out his name almost breathlessly, fingers finding purchase in his thick hair.

He responds with a small hum that causes his throat to vibrate ever so slightly. Adrien's hands are coiled around your thighs, palms laying flat on your lower stomach as he leans in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips tickle your skin and you can't help but jerk your leg from the sensation—which you're prevented from doing so by his arms holding your legs hostage.

Warmth envelops your lower half as Adrien wraps his mouth around your cock. His breath is hot against your trembling skin and he forces the most obscene noises out his throat. Slick slurping sounds mixed with groans and sighs like he's been starved a hearty meal.

The hand on your stomach slides up, pushing your shirt further so he could feel the flat plane of your torso. Your squirms and thigh twitches are held down by his built arms—it honestly seems like he trains just for this.

“Could do this for days.” its hard to tell what he's saying since all his words and muffled and gurgled.

He pulls off for one second to fish out lubricant from the hotel drawers, applying a hefty amount to his fingers before returning back to you.

Sliding back down to his knees, he prods a finger to your winking hole, teasing and pushing past that ring of muscle and pulling it back out just to watch it shiver from the loss.

“Pervert,” You grumble under your breath.

“Who's the one who asked me out?”

You shoot Adrien an irked glare but the annoyance fades from your face the moment he wraps his mouth around your dick once more. Your eyes flutter as he finally pushes that finger in, sliding in a second to slowly scissor you loose.

He's more skilled than you with his tongue and you can't help but wonder what his past experiences were like; you dismiss that thought as quick as it came.

You look down at him from half-closed eyes, watching as he hollows his cheeks to take in more. You're practically whining and thrashing around in his grip. He's buried his face to the hilt, nose brushing against your pelvic bone. Its almost a ticklish sensation, feeling him breathe against your skin.

His fingers press and pressure your walls, pushing them apart to ready you for his cock. He's rhythmically pushing his fingers deeper, curling at the apex before pulling them back, repeating that process in a steady pace. You can feel them hit your prostate, sending jolts straight to your dick.

It's too much for you to handle; your hips are rising to meet the bob of his head, back arching off the satin white sheets.

“Wait— Adrien pull off I don't want you to—” Your words are all diced up, spoken in short gasps as you try to pry his head off from your aching cock.

You succeed—for a bit—before he's dipping all the way down again, holding your hips steady as he forces you down his throat. He's fucking loving it too, moaning with your dick in his mouth as his fingers speed up, pistioning two fingers into your hole.

Your hips raise even more and he encourages it.

His name comes spilling out of your mouth like a mantra as your muscles spasm from the intensity of your orgasm. Adrien keeps sucking like he's trying to wring every last drop from you. You feel his tongue swirl over your slit, lapping up your sweet fluids.

He slides himself off of you, letting you rest on the bed for a bit as he tilts his head back. His Adam's apple bobs while he swallows, and he lowers his head back down to smile at you.

“Don't tell me you're tired already, I haven't even taken off my pants yet,” he tsks at you, shaking his head disapprovingly while he joins you on the bed. You're still dazed from how hard you just came but a warm hand pulls you back down to earth.

Adrien's hand grazes over your cheek delicately as he hovers over you, caging you in with two arms on either side of your head.

“Just relax prez, I'll do all the work, 'kay?” He takes your little grunt as an 'okay,' rolling you onto your stomach and guiding your head to rest on the pillow. It smells so distinctly of freshly cleaned hotel sheets with a hint of citrus and bleach that you take a moment to close your eyes and enjoy the scent.

You can feel the mattress dip on either sides of your hips as he plants his knees there. He leans his head down to peek at your blissed-out face, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. You can feel his hands run down the curve of your spine, running over your lower back before he settles them on your waist.

“Are you relaxed?” He hums, leisurely rolling his hips against you. His tone is so sultry it causes your muscles to visibly relax under the siren call of his voice.

A hand moves down to where your leg meets the curve of your ass, parting the round flesh for him to comfortably slide in. He had stretched you out enough that it slipped in with ease, hugged by your warm velvet walls.

He sucks in air between his teeth while he steadily rocks his body back and forth, tuning into the wet squelching sound with each thrust.

“Feel it yet?” He chuckles, poking fun at the fact that you've been too dazed to respond to him. You nod against the pillow, your hair spilling over the silk case like spilt water. A small, shaky exhale leaves your nose as he begins to hasten his thrusts. It's almost bruising as he slams himself against your tailbone—you know you'll be whining about the soreness tomorrow morning.

Your voice gradually gets louder as he pounds you into the bed, fingers curled up in the sheets as he slams his pelvis against your ass. You can feel him throb from inside you, twitching and ready.

A particularly deep thrust has you crying out into the pillow but you can't squirm, not when Adrien is pinning you down with his body weight. He's pushing against your prostate over and over again and you can feel that familiar feeling of an orgasm creeping up on you.

“Fuck, Adrien,” You hiccup, muffled by the fluff of the pillow, eyes flickering like you're struggling to keep them open.

“Yeah baby?” You can hear the smirk in his tone as he keeps at the rough pace. He's hitting all the right spots and your dick appreciates. You feel a hand dip under your neck, cupping the curve of your throat as Adrien lifts your head up to face him.

He moves in to kiss you, soft and gentle as he wraps his arms around your whole body, holding you in a tight grip while continuously slamming himself deeper into you. Your loud cries and moans are enveloped by Adrien's mouth, swallowed up.

“You gonna cum? Feels so good you just can't hold it in?” He cooes, chuckling against your swollen lips as he feels you tremble underneath him. You swear stars enter your vision and your eyes roll back, muscles jerking and tensing as you let out a string of whimpers while your orgasm comes crashing onto you.

Adrien buries himself to the hilt before emptying out all he's worth, coating your insides with his dna. He groans as he pulls out halfway just to watch his semen flood out of your hole, still tightly clenched around his cock.

He sits up, raking his fingers through his tousled hair and sighs with satisfaction like drinking an ice cold soda in a hot summer day.

“You tired prez?” He asks, smiling down at you. His eyes narrow and concern settles in when you don't move or answer him.

“Baby?” He quickly leans back down to look at your face only to see your peaceful expression, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. He lets out a relieved chuckle before pulling out, sliding off the bed to grab a towel.

He figured he'd get you some fruit to replenish your energy, pulling on some of his clothes after cleaning you up and getting you comfortable in the bed. He makes his way to the buffet, piling all favorite fruits and sweets onto his plate before he spots his family.

“Where's your boyfriend?” Adrien's mother asks, also holding a plate of food. Seemed like the two of you missed lunch.

“He's uh—” Adrien tenses knowing that he can't just openly admit to his mother that he fucked the daylights out of you.

“Taking a nap.”

[luxcuriousao3]

Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his ass as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that elongated in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

[cvnntagious]

:: babydaddy!matt has no problem sticking up for brat!reader

matt wasn't the type to get easily riled up—especially not to where he felt the need to get physical about it. he was more the type to talk things out, most would say. and that's exactly why it was such a shock when you made your way towards the commotion in the living room to see matt with a guy under him, fists of fury hammering into the poor dude's face.

for a moment, you contemplated if this was something you even wanted to involve yourself in, given is was your child's father. but when matt's hand continued coming down repeatedly with no sign of stopping any time soon, his opposer barely fighting back at this point, you couldn't find it in him to let him just keep kicking this guy when he was so clearly down.

giving a harsh tug on matt's plain black t-shit, you pulled him off like he were a misbehaving dog. his head snapped back to see who had grabbed him, brows unfurrowing the moment he came face to face with you.

his breathing was ragged, waiting for you to berate him as the people surrounding you two scrambled to stop the guy who was once lying on yhe dloor from standing up. to his surprise, you pulled him along with an annoyed grunt, slipping out of the party amidst the chaos of the fight. "where're we going?" matt asked, only to be ignored as he followed behind you until you guys were far from the house.

"i knew this was a stupid idea," you finally muttered, letting go of his wrist to turn and look up at him as you two stood in front of his car. your eyes, scanned his face, maneuvering your head to get a good look at any injuries he may have.

matt's mouth opened, wanting to explain. he knew you didn't want to hear it. "m'not hurt," he replied simply, shaking his head as his eyes finally met yours.

you clicked your tongue, giving him a deep sigh as your eyes rolled for what already felt like the millionth time tonight. "what's your problem?" you asked, addressing the big fat elephant standing right in front of your guys' faces, "forget you're an adult now, hm? have been for almost five years... fighting's how you catch cases, dumbass."

the scoff that left his lips made you want to slap some sense into matt, giving him a look that said, 'are you a fucking idiot?' as you waited for whatever lame excuse he might conjur up. but you should've known better than that. you knew matt had never been the type to go out fighting recklessly, so you should've known something had seriously bothered him. and the fact that something so simple had slipped your mind made his reasoning all the more shocking. "kid was talking shit," he answered, eyes averting to look anywhere but you, one hand coming up to rest on his hip as if he were embarrassed to admit it.

again, you weren't paying enough attention. "yeah? what, he said your fancy little carharts weren't cool enough or something? so you had to go and risk literal jail time?" you insulted, growing increasingly more annoyed with each passing second, "i mean, seriously, i don't know what i'd do if that guy chooses to press charges—you better hope nobody recorded that."

matt looked at you with a softness to his eyes, feeling his chest tightening a bit at your words; for a moment, those last few sentences made it feel like you needed him. of course, he knew in the back of his mind that you were thinking of mazzy, but he'd like to remain at least the slightest bit delusional in the moment. "come on," he scoffed again, "it was about you... the guy was talkin' shit 'bout you. was i supposed to jus' let him?"

the confession made your breath hitch a little, head pulling back and brows furrowing in a mild confusion. then, you came back to your senses, the attitude rising within you apparent on your features. "what'd he say?" you asked with a quick work of your neck.

"s'nothing important." matt was quick to brush you off, a certain coldness washing over him.

"really? then why'd you fight about it," you pressed on, a brow raising as if to tell him you simply didn't believe him.

he shook his head, mouth openining and closing as matt thought of an excuse. he couldn't – or, moreover, he didn't want to lie to you. "jus' spewin' some bullshit about you, like, bein' overly difficult... said you rejected him an' shit earlier. i guess he was upset about it," he answered, realizing he may have overreacted a bit now that he was explaining it out loud.

"that's all?"

matt shot you a confused look, shrugging a bit. "yeah—i mean, i also saw him tryin' t'grab on you earlier, so..." even that that wasn't really all, truthfully. it was the way the guy was so persistent, eager to start some sort of smear campaign against you between all of his friends. his lack of regard for matt as he badmouthed you, knowing what matt was to you. what you meant to matt.

you were quick to push past him, another annoyed grunt as you shoulder checked him. "just let him talk next time," you mumbled through gritted teeth, "that's not your battle."

matt turned and watched you walk away, in utter disbelief that this was how he was getting treated for standing up for you. of course it was his battle. who else was going to fight it? you? absolutely not. that guy got what was coming to him, saying whatever so carelessly.

"stay if you want," you called back, head turning to look at him, "m'gonna stop by your house to pick up mazzy from chris and nick."

w/c : 971 taglist : @mattsturnswife, @br1annax, @x0x0bunny, @m4ttsmunch, @mattsnumberonehoe, @k4yd1, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @sturnstar169, @bxtchboy69, @strnilolover, @little-miss-shay, @sweetobservationface requested by anon.

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): SMUT – p in v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk, jealousy. Substance use. +18 only! Minors do not interact.

A/N: Every feedback is welcome <3

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter five: Last Day in Paradise ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The first thing you noticed was warmth. Not the kind of fleeting comfort you got from a blanket on a chilly night, but something deeper, more solid, more alive. It anchored you, a steady rhythm beneath your cheek. Slowly, as your senses returned, you realized it was Rafe

You were lying on his chest, your bare legs tangled with his, his arm wrapped around your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. The sheets were tangled at your hips, barely covering the evidence of last night.

The memories came rushing back in waves, each one more vivid than the last. His lips against yours on the balcony, the heat of his touch, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Your cheeks burned as the details sharpened — his voice murmuring your name, the press of his body against yours, the way you had whispered yes without hesitation.

You shifted slightly, your fingers brushing against his chest, the faint scratches of your nails from the night before still visible against his tanned skin. His breathing changed, growing heavier, and you froze as his voice broke the stillness.

“Morning, trouble.”

You swallowed, your heart skipping a beat. His tone was low and gravelly, softened by sleep but carrying the teasing edge that was so unmistakably him.

“Morning,” you murmured back, not daring to lift your head just yet.

“Still hiding?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Your fingers tightened slightly against his chest as you cursed yourself for being so obvious. “I’m not hiding.”

His chuckle rumbled beneath you. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you’ve got your face buried in my chest like you’re trying to disappear.”

You groaned softly, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. “I just… need a second.”

“To what? Process how lucky you are?” His hand shifted on your waist, his fingers brushing against your bare skin, and the smugness in his tone made you want to punch him — and maybe kiss him again.

Finally, you lifted your head, your hair tumbling over your shoulders as you looked up at him. His blue eyes met yours, sharper now as the haze of sleep faded, and his smirk deepened at the sight of your flushed face.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, pushing against his chest in an attempt to sit up.

He caught your wrist before you could go far, his grip firm but gentle. “And you’re blushing,” he pointed out, his voice dropping slightly as his eyes roamed your face.

You tried to tug your hand free, but he didn’t let go, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist. “If you keep talking, I’ll—”

“What? Leave?” He raised a brow, his smirk widening. “We both know you’re not going anywhere.”

You glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah? That’s not what you were screaming last night” he shot back, his voice softening just enough as he whispered in his ear, waking goosebumps all over your body.

You huffed, leaning down until your forehead rested against his neck. “I hate you.”

“I think were a bit past that now, don’t you?”

The laugh you let out was involuntary, the sound muffled against his skin, and his hand slid up your back, his fingers trailing along your spine in a way that made you shiver.

…

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the quiet confidence you’d mustered faltered the second Rafe’s gaze locked on you. He was leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out and arms crossed, his expression unreadable—until he saw you.

His posture shifted immediately, his eyes dragging over you slowly, deliberately, like he was studying you for weakness. Or maybe for something else entirely. His jaw tightened, and his lips pressed into a faint smirk, though his gaze lingered far too long on the way the bikini hugged your body.

You froze for a second, your fingers tightening around the ties to your bikini top. “What?”

Rafe’s smirk widened slightly, his eyes darkening as he pushed himself off the bed. He didn’t answer right away, his steps unhurried as he closed the space between you. Finally, when he stopped just a little too close, he tilted his head, his voice low and edged with something sharp.

“Do you even realize what you’re doing to me right now?”

Your breath hitched, and you tried not to let it show. “It’s just a bikini, Rafe.”

He let out a quiet scoff, his hand coming up to rest against the wall beside your head, boxing you in. “You chose the tiniest one just to taunt me, didn’t you?”

Your cheeks burned under his scrutiny, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Are you done?”

“Not even close.” He leaned in, the heat of his body radiating against yours as he flicked his eyes to the untied strings in your hand. “Turn around.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

He raised a brow and held up a hand, gesturing to the ties. “Unless you plan on walking out there like that, you’re gonna need to tie this.”

Reluctantly, you turned, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the wall as you felt his fingers brush against your bare back. His movements were slow — too slow. He wasn’t just tying the strings, he was deliberately letting his knuckles graze your skin, his fingertips tracing patterns that made your breath catch.

“You’re taking your time,” you muttered, trying to keep the fluster out of your voice.

“What can I say?” His voice dipped lower, teasing. “I’m a perfectionist.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words evaporated when he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“This thing’s barely holding together,” he murmured, his voice like a smirk given form. “One wave, and it’s over.”

You spun around to face him, your eyes wide as you slapped his chest. “Rafe!”

He caught your wrist easily, his grip firm but playful, his smirk stretching into a full grin. “Relax. I’m just trying to help. A friendly heads up, that’s all.”

“Help less,” you snapped, though your voice betrayed you with its shaky edge, your cheeks burning as you stared at him.

“Noted,” he said, releasing your wrist but not stepping back. His eyes flicked over you once more before he finally moved away, hands in his pockets. “But if you end up needing me to retie it…” He paused, his smirk turning wicked. “You know where to find me.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still blushing,” he called after you, his smug tone chasing you all the way out of the room.

The sun was high in the sky, warming your skin as you lay on the beach chair, your arms stretched out lazily. The soft crash of the waves against the shore blended with the distant hum of conversations and laughter from other beachgoers. You could feel the sun’s rays starting to prick at your shoulders, so you sat up slightly, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen

“Hey.” you said, turning your head toward Rafe, who was sprawled in the chair next to you, sunglasses shielding his eyes but doing nothing to hide the smug, lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Can you do my back?”

His head tilted, the smirk growing. “You sure you trust me with that?”

You gave him a pointed look, shaking the bottle at him. “Just don’t take forever. My skin is boiling here.”

Rafe chuckled, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the chair. “No promises.” He grabbed the bottle from you, popping the cap open as you turned onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your forearms.

The first touch of the cool lotion against your skin made you shiver, and Rafe’s low chuckle drifted down to you. “Cold?”

“Just get on with it,” you muttered, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.

But Rafe wasn’t in any rush. His hands moved slowly, spreading the lotion across your shoulders with deliberate precision. His fingers pressed firmly into your skin, massaging the lotion in circles that felt far more intentional than necessary.

“Relax,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve got you.”

You let out a soft sigh, though you couldn’t ignore the way his hands lingered, his thumbs pressing into the dip of your lower back, dangerously close to your bikini bottoms.

“Rafe…” you warned, your voice muffled against your arms.

“What?” he asked innocently, his hands pausing for a fraction of a second before continuing lower. “I’m just making sure you’re covered.”

His hands slid down to your thighs, his touch firm as he worked the lotion into your skin. When his fingers brushed the curve of your ass, you shot him a glare over your shoulder.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Completely.” he said with a smirk, his hands unapologetically smoothing lotion over the exposed skin. “You wouldn’t want to burn, would you?”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could think of a response, his palm landed on your ass with a slap that made you squeal.

“Rafe!”

He laughed, leaning back on his heels as he admired his work. “What? That’s prime territory for sunburn. Just doing my part.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, sitting up and snatching the bottle out of his hand.

“And yet,” he said, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, “you keep asking for my help.”

His eyes held yours, a challenge sparking in their depths, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart raced under his gaze.

“I won’t anymore.” you shot back, though the bite in your words was undercut by the way you couldn’t quite look away.

Rafe leaned back with a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself as he sprawled back on his chair. “Whatever you say, princess.”

As you turned away, you could still feel his gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was enjoying himself a little too much. But the truth was, so were you.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in streaks of gold and crimson. The ocean glittered under its touch, the waves rolling in gentle, rhythmic crashes against the shore. You’d spent the day alternating between the warmth of the sun and the cool embrace of the sea, trading teasing remarks with Rafe and stealing moments of quiet that neither of you dared break.

Now, as the heat softened into a more forgiving warmth, Rafe was tugging you toward the water again, his grip firm but not forceful. “Come on,” he said, his lips twitching into that cocky, teasing smirk. “You’ve spent the last hour avoiding it.”

You pulled against his hand, dragging your feet through the sand. “It’s freezing, Rafe!”

“Stop being dramatic!” he scoffed, but there was laughter in his tone. He paused, turning to face you, his blue eyes bright with mischief. “What, you scared of a little cold water?”

“I just don’t enjoy the sensation of becoming an icicle.” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“Fine.” He shrugged, his smirk turning into a full grin. “Guess I’ll just have to carry you.”

“Don’t you—Rafe!”

Before you could react, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs dangling as you flailed against his chest.

“Put me down!” you squealed, but your protests were drowned out by your laughter as he strode toward the waves, the water lapping at his ankles, then his knees.

“See?” he said, grinning down at you. “Not so bad.”

The next thing you knew, you were both in the water, the cool shock of it stealing your breath as he let you go just enough to let the waves pull at you. You shrieked, splashing him in retaliation, and he laughed, his grin boyish and carefree in a way that felt rare.

The playfulness between you ebbed as the moments stretched, replaced by something quieter. The laughter faded, and you found yourself drawn closer to him, his arms instinctively wrapping around you to steady you against the gentle pull of the tide.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The ocean stretched out around you, vast and endless, and the only sound was the rhythmic crash of waves and the distant murmur of the beach behind you.

Rafe’s hands settled on your waist, his grip firm but gentle. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “Thanks.”

You blinked, tilting your head up to look at him. His face was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “For what?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening like he was fighting with himself. When he finally met your gaze, his expression had shifted — gone was the smirk, the cocky bravado. What you saw instead took your breath away.

Rafe looked… lost. Vulnerable in a way he rarely let show. His brows drew together slightly, as if the words he was about to say were hard for him to admit.

“For putting up with me this weekend.” he said, his voice barely audible over the waves. “For… helping me when you didn’t have to”

You stared at him, startled by the weight of his words. “Rafe…”

“It’s not just this weekend,” he continued, cutting you off, his grip tightening on your waist as if grounding himself. “It’s… everything. The way you…” He broke off, shaking his head like he was frustrated with himself.

“The way I what?” you asked softly, your hand brushing against his chest, trying to coax the words out of him without you even noticing.

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the walls he always kept up cracked just enough for you to see through. “The way you didn’t leave when I wasn’t exactly making it easy.” he said finally, his voice low, raw. “Even when I’m a mess. Even when I’m… me.”

Your chest tightened at the way he said it, like he truly believed he wasn’t worth sticking around for. The bravado, the arrogance — it all felt like a mask now, one he wore to hide just how deeply his loneliness ran.

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek. He flinched slightly at the touch, as if he wasn’t used to being touched so gently, but he didn’t pull away. “You’ve been through a lot and—”

He huffed out a bitter laugh, his eyes dropping to the water between you. “That’s generous.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “You’re not perfect, Rafe. But nobody is. And the way you see yourself? That’s not permanent. You can… That’s not all I see - not anymore.”

His eyes flicked back up to yours, something vulnerable and searching in them. “How do you see me?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding at the intensity of his gaze. “I see someone who’s trying,” you said finally, your voice steady. “Even if you don’t think you are. I see someone who cares more than he lets on.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his jaw working as he processed your words. Then, his forehead dropped to rest against yours, his eyes slipping shut.

He let out a shaky breath, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you again, there was something softer in his expression. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your lips curving into a faint smile despite the heaviness of the moment.

“You make me think…” He paused, searching for the right words. “You make me think maybe I’m not as screwed up as I feel.”

“Aren’t we all?” you said simply, a smile dangling on your lips.

His lips twitched into something close to a smile, though his eyes still held that flicker of vulnerability. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check,” you teased gently.

He laughed softly, the sound almost disbelieving, and for the first time in a long time, it felt real.

The waves lapped at your sides as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt less possessive and more like he was trying to hold himself together.

“Thank you.” he said again, his voice steadier now, his eyes searching yours.

“Always.” you replied, your fingers brushing against his chest as you held his gaze.

The moment stretched, the weight of it lingering even as the tide pulled at you both. For the first time, it felt like Rafe wasn’t just letting you in — he was trying to keep you in.

Back at the hotel, the charged energy that had simmered between you all day seemed to follow you like a shadow, growing heavier with every passing glance, every fleeting touch. By the time you both found yourselves in the bathroom, it was like the air itself was crackling with electricity.

You were standing at the sink, brushing your damp hair out of your face to apply some pre-poo after a long day in the sun, when Rafe stepped inside. His shirt was gone, the tan he’d picked up over the weekend emphasizing the sharp lines of his chest and the faint dusting of freckles across his shoulders. He moved past you, his arm brushing yours as he reached for a towel hanging near the shower.

It should have been a simple movement, nothing out of the ordinary. But the second his skin grazed yours, the tension that had coiled tight between you all day snapped.

You turned your head, and he was already looking at you, his blue eyes dark and intent, like he’d been waiting for you to crack first.

Neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to.

It happened all at once — his hand reaching for your wrist, your breath catching as he pulled you toward him. His other hand slid to the small of your back, tugging you closer until there wasn’t even an inch of space between you. Then his lips were on yours, hot and insistent, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You gasped against him, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders as he backed you up against the sink. His kiss was urgent, consuming, like he couldn’t get enough of you. And God, you couldn’t get enough of him either.

The towel he’d been holding fell to the floor as his hands roamed your body, one sliding to your waist and the other tangling in your hair. His fingers tightened slightly, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss, and you let out a soft, involuntary moan that seemed to undo him completely.

“Shower.” he muttered against your lips, his voice low and rough, and before you could even process the word, he was guiding you backward toward the glass enclosure.

The cool tile of the shower wall met your back just as the spray of hot water burst to life, cascading over both of you. The contrast of sensations made you shiver, but Rafe’s hands were already on you again, grounding you, igniting a heat that burned hotter than the steam enveloping you both.

He pressed you back against the wall, his body flush against yours, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped when you felt the full strength of him. His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one lingering like he was memorizing the way you felt beneath him.

“Rafe…” You barely recognized your own voice, breathless and shaky as your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Say it again.” he murmured against your neck, his voice dark and laced with a possessive edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Shit, call for me again.”

“Rafe.” you repeated, and his name came out like a plea, breaking apart as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His hands slid lower, gripping your hips before traveling down to the backs of your thighs. Without a word, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you higher against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you brought his lips back to yours.

The kiss was slower this time, but no less intense. His tongue swept against yours, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, holding you like he never wanted to let go. The water cascaded over both of you, but it did little to cool the fire raging between you.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his chest heaved, both of you catching your breath. His eyes found yours, and the raw intensity in them made your heart skip a beat.

“You drive me insane, you know that?” he said, his voice rough and low, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

Your hands slid down to his jaw, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you smiled faintly. “Good.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, harder this time, with a desperation that stole whatever restraint you had left.

The steam swirled around you, the water pouring down like it was trying to drown the fire between you — but it was hopeless. Whatever this was, whatever had built between you over the years, it wasn’t something that could be extinguished. Not now. Not anymore.

Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightened as he set you down gently, the cool tile sending a jolt through your body as he stepped back just enough to let you stand on your own two trembling legs. His eyes never left yours as he reached for the strings of your bikini top, his fingers deftly untying them.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he murmured, his voice thick with need, and you felt your cheeks flush as the material fell away, exposing your bare breasts to the steamy air.

He took a moment to just look at you, his eyes darkening as they roamed over your body, lingering on your hardened nipples and the droplets of water that clung to your skin. Then, as if he couldn’t wait another second, he reached out and cupped one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. A bolt of pleasure shot straight to your core, making your knees wobble.

You leaned into his touch, arching your back slightly, and that was all the invitation he needed. His mouth was on you, suckling your nipple into his warm, wet mouth, his tongue flicking against it as you let out a gasp that was quickly muffled by his groan. Your hands found the back of his neck, holding it tightly as his other hand moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention.

But as much as you enjoyed the feeling of his mouth on your breasts, there was something else you craved. Something more. You reached down and tugged at the waistband of his shorts, your eyes never leaving his.

The material slid down his hips, revealing his arousal, thick and heavy, standing proudly against his stomach. Your heart raced as you took him in your hand, his cock hot and velvety-soft, yet so firm. You felt the weight of him, the way he twitched at your touch, and you knew he wanted this as much as you did.

“You like that?” You whispered, a hint of mischief in your voice, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back with a groan.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, his hand coming to cover yours, guiding your strokes. His hips jerked slightly, and you felt his cock throb in your grasp.

The power you had over him was intoxicating, and you reveled in it, stroking him slowly, watching the way his body responded to every touch. You leaned in, your breath warm against his neck as you whispered, “You’re so big.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped open, his gaze locking onto yours, and there was something in it that made your stomach flip — something dark and hungry that mirrored the ache between your legs.

He spins you around, pressing your breasts against the cool glass as he kisses your neck, his hand sliding down to tease your clit while you watch your reflection in the steamy mirror.

The sensation is maddening, and you can't help but arch into his touch, your hips rolling against his palm. The water streams down your back, creating rivulets that trace the curves of your body, and the slickness between your legs only makes your need for him more intense.

"Tell me what you want," Rafe whispers, his breath hot on your skin, his fingers expertly circling your clit. His other hand slides down to your ass, squeezing it gently as he continues to explore your body.

"I want you," you murmur, the words barely audible over the rush of the shower. Your voice is thick with desire, and it sends a jolt of need through him. He groans, his cock pulsing against your bottom.

Rafe’s hand slides from your clit, his fingers slipping into your folds, testing your readiness. You're soaking wet, both from the water and your own arousal, and you push back into his hand, silently begging for more. He teases you, sliding one finger in and out, watching your eyes glaze over in pleasure.

“Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His voice is a low growl in your ear, and you shiver with excitement. His words added a new dimension to the fire between you, turning your desire up to a fever pitch.

You nod, unable to form coherent words as his fingers delve deeper, filling you. “Yes.” you manage to breathe out, the word little more than a gasp.

“Say it,” he demands, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Tell me you want my cock inside you.”

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t hesitate. “I want your cock inside me, Rafe. Now.” The words feel decadent on your tongue, and you revel in the power of them, the way his eyes darken and his breath hitches.

With a smoldering smile, Rafe turns you around to face him, the water still raining down on both of you. He takes your face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. His eyes are blazing with lust, but there’s something else in there too — something that makes your heart race faster than the pulsing ache between your legs.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice a command that you can’t resist. You stare up into his eyes as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. You gasp as he slides inside you, filling you up with one slow, deliberate stroke. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, like he’s claiming you, marking you as his own.

He pins you against the wall, lifts one of your legs, and enters you standing, the water rushing over both of you, heightening every sensation.

The feel of him inside you is overwhelming, his thickness stretching you as he starts to move, his hips pistoning in and out, the water sluicing over your bodies, turning your skin slick and your cries of pleasure muffled by the pounding of the shower. His hand wraps around the back of your thigh, holding your leg up as he takes you, his other hand on your hip to balance you as he drives deeper with every thrust.

“Oh, fuck. Rafe!” you moan, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise at how good it feels. He groans in response, his eyes locked onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” he murmurs, his voice a dark, velvet rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Take it all. Take every inch of me.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes as he hits that perfect spot, the one that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Your eyes flutter closed, but he gently taps your cheek with the pad of his thumb, urging you to look at him.

“Keep those eyes on me.” he says, his voice a gruff command that makes your core tighten. You force your lids up and watch him as he continues to pump into you, his movements powerful and deliberate. “Let me see you come for me, baby.”

His hand slides down to your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud as he picks up his pace. You feel yourself building closer and closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him, trying to pull him deeper. “I bet that stupid fucking tourist didn’t get you moaning like this, huh?” he says, his voice thick with arrogance.

You’re surprised at the sudden mention of the guy who had dropped you off at your place two days ago, the one who had barely managed to get your number. But as Rafe’s thumb applies more pressure and his cock hits that spot deep inside you, the memory of the touron fades away, replaced by the reality of the man who’s been under your skin for years.

“So you were jealous, huh?” You ask, your voice teasing despite the way your body is trembling with need. You can’t resist scratching your nails down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he fucks you harder against the shower wall.

“Shut up.” Rafe says, a playful smirk curling his lips. But the way his eyes bore into yours says he’s not joking. He wants you to be silent, to only focus on him, on the way he’s claiming you with every stroke.

You lean in closer, your breath a hot whisper in his ear. “Make me, then.” you challenge him, your voice dripping with need and mischief. You bite his earlobe, making him growl before you pull away again, your eyes sparkling with defiance.

Rafe’s smirk widens, the challenge accepted. His strokes become more urgent, his grip on your thigh tightening as he fucks you with a new vigor that has your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. The pleasure builds, coiling in your belly like a tight spring, ready to snap at any moment.

You can feel him thicken inside you, his hips slapping against your ass as he takes you harder. Your nails rake down his back, leaving trails of red against his tanned skin, and he grunts with every thrust, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of your bodies colliding echoes off the shower walls, mingling with the steady patter of the water.

Then it happens — the orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing over you with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. You cry out, your muscles tightening around him, and he groans in response, his grip on your thigh and hip almost painful. He pulls out at the last moment, the tip of his cock teasing your clit as he comes, painting your stomach with ropes of hot cum. The sight of him, his head thrown back and his muscles taut with release, sends another shiver of pleasure through you.

You stand there for a moment, panting and trembling, your legs threatening to give out. But Rafe’s arms are around you, holding you up, keeping you close. His chest is heaving, his heart pounding against yours as he presses his forehead to yours.

The bathroom is quiet except for the sound of the shower and your occasional shared laughter as you both rinse off the remnants of your earlier entanglement. The water slides over Rafe’s broad shoulders, droplets tracing the ridges of his muscles as he smirks at you from beneath the spray.

“You’re hogging all the hot water, Cameron.” you tease, nudging him with your elbow.

He tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Or maybe you’re just too slow. Pick up the pace, princess.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so slow if someone didn’t ruin my ability to walk properly.” you shoot back, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably as your lips twitch into a grin.

Rafe’s low chuckle reverberates in the steam-filled room. “You’re so welcome.” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and satisfaction.

Your chest tightens at the sound, and you glance away, a shy smile pulling at your lips. It’s maddening, how effortlessly he can unravel you with a single look or a simple quip.

By the time you step out of the shower, the mirror is fogged over, and the bathroom feels stifling. You grab a towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself, already feeling a tug of laziness weighing you down.

Rafe was already drying himself, shaking his wet hair like a dog and laughing when you glare at him. ���Relax, princess. You’re already wet.”

“That’s disgusting, Rafe.” But you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you.

Your eyes flick to Rafe’s t-shirt lying casually on the counter while he puts his sweatpants on. Without a second thought, you snag it, pulling it over your head. The fabric hangs loosely, brushing your thighs.

When Rafe notices, his brows lift. “Seriously? My shirt?”

“It was right there.” you reply nonchalantly, smoothing the material as if to make your point. “And I’m too lazy to grab my pajamas. Deal with it.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes dragging over you. Something flashes there — something warm, possessive — but it’s gone before you can place it. “Really?”

“What?” you say innocently, running a hand over the shirt. “It was right there and it’s your fault I can’t walk to my suitcase anyway.”

He narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t argue, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Fine. Keep it. But don’t act surprised when I start charging you rent.”

You scoff, brushing past him as you head toward the bed. “You’re so generous.”

Once you’re under the covers, the soft glow of your phones illuminates the space between you. The easy comfort of scrolling and sharing random videos fills the room. Rafe shows you a clip of some guy trying to skateboard off a roof and failing miserably. You laugh so hard your chest aches, and the sound of Rafe’s deep chuckle beside you makes your heart feel unbearably light.

But as the laughter fades, a familiar weight creeps back into your chest. Tomorrow. The word lingers, flashing in your mind like a warning light. You’ll go back to the Outer Banks, to the suffocating expectations of your mother and family. Rafe will go back to being just Rafe — your brother’s best friend.

“We’re back tomorrow.” you murmur softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Rafe doesn’t respond immediately, but you feel his gaze shift to you. “Yeah.” he says after a moment.

You bite your lip, hesitating. “Back to… normal, I guess.”

His jaw tightens at your words, and for a moment, the room feels heavier. His silence stretches, his expression unreadable as he stares at the ceiling.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you add quickly, setting your phone aside.

“Didn’t you?” he asks, his tone calm but edged with something heavier.

You swallow, guilt and frustration knotting in your chest. “I just mean…” You pause, your voice trembling. “You’ll go back to being you, and I’ll go back to…”

“Pretending this never happened?” he finishes, his voice low and rough. He didn’t even know why he was frustrated.

You flinch, shaking your head. “No. It’s not like that.” You take a breath, struggling to explain. “It’s just… you know what it’s like with my mom. With my family. Everything has to be perfect. And me…” You trail off, lowering your gaze. “I’m not allowed to just… be myself.”

Rafe shifts beside you, his eyes softening as they lock onto yours. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand reaches out, his fingers brushing over yours. The simple gesture makes your heart clench.

“But we still have tonight.” you add, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something shifts in his expression — less frustration, more heat. A slow smirk tugs at his lips, and he leans closer, his voice dropping low. “Yeah. We do.”

His lips find yours, and the world falls away. It’s not rushed, not frantic, but slow and consuming, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing along your jaw as his mouth moves against yours. You melt into him, your fingers sliding into his hair as you press closer, closer, like you can’t get enough.

When his tongue brushes against yours, you gasp softly, your heart racing. Heat coils low in your stomach, spreading through your body as his hands slide down to your thighs, pulling you into his lap. You can feel him everywhere — his touch, his warmth, his breath — and it makes your head spin.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless. His forehead presses against yours, and the crooked grin he gives you sends a thrill through your chest.

When he finally pulls back, his lips curve into a grin. “Alright, one last thing before you’re back to being Little Miss Perfect: wanna smoke?”

You laugh softly, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’m as perfect as you think.”

“Could’ve fooled me” he says, already grabbing the joint from the metal box on the bedside table.

At some point, you end up on the balcony — the spot you’d jokingly called your “weed place” earlier in the week. The night air feels cool against your skin, and you curl up beside him, your legs draped over his lap as he lights the joint. The first drag is sharp, making your lungs burn, but it quickly fades into a pleasant haze. After a few hits, the haze feels light, freeing.

“Okay, fine,” you say, laughing. “But then… what if fish get bored of swimming all the time? Like, what if they’re just floating there, looking up at the surface and thinking, ‘Wow, I wish I could walk. Or fly.’”

“Fish don’t think that,” Rafe says, grinning. “Fish don’t think at all.”

You gasp, your hand flying to your chest. “Rude. Fish probably have, like, the deepest thoughts. What if they’re out there philosophizing about life? Like, ‘What even is water?’”

That sends you into another fit of giggles, your head falling back against the chair as you clutch your stomach. You don’t even realize Rafe is watching you until you catch the way his smirk softens, his blue eyes warm as they trace over your face.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“Yeah, well…” You shrug, still smiling. “At least I can say whatever stupid thing pops into my head with you. That’s nice. I don’t have to, like, filter myself.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just reaches out to brush a piece of hair from your face. “Good,” he says softly. “You should always be yourself.”

The joint burns out eventually, but the ease you feel doesn’t fade. When Rafe pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of you mid-laugh, you groan, reaching for it.

“Let me see!”

“Not a chance,” he says, holding it out of reach, grinning.

Fine, you think, grabbing your own phone. “Two can play this game.” You snap a photo of him in the middle of a laugh, his head tilted back.

“Oh, come on.” He groans, reaching for your phone. “That’s terrible!”

“That’s the point,” you say, giggling as you dodge him.

The photo war escalates quickly, and you’re back in his lap before you even realize it, both of you laughing uncontrollably.

The flash goes off.

You pull back, your breath catching as you see the phone in his hand. “Did you just take a picture of that?”

Rafe smirks, his eyes half-lidded. “Maybe.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

His hands trail lazily down your thighs, his smirk darkening. “Maybe I’ll take one more,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice a little breathy as your heart pounds in your chest.

He nods, his fingers curling under the hem of his shirt — your shirt — where it brushes your thighs. “You know, for the road.”

A rush of heat spreads through you as you give him a playful smirk, your inhibitions completely gone. Slowly, you grab the hem of the shirt and lift it just enough to flash him.

His eyes darken, his phone already in hand. “Hold that.” he murmurs, his voice rasping, and before you can even think, the flash goes off again.

You laugh, tugging the shirt back down, your cheeks burning. “You’re insane,” you say softly, giggling, the smile lingering.

He grins, setting the phone aside as his hands slide to your waist. “Maybe,” he replies, his lips brushing yours. “But at least now I’ve got a proper party favor from this wedding shit.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk @slutforoldermen @louxmcl @peter-parkers-gf @yootvi @v4mp1rr3 @evermorx89

[touchme-teezme]

hi mimi! idk if u take requests but last pick was everything to me like i lovedddd the book that inspired you 😭🥹 can i PLEASE get a san version with the “did you want to watch me burn” poem? just destroy me. my heart is yourssss

This Time.

PAIRING | collegeboy!san x fab!reader

TAGS | arguments, smut with a plot, kissing, oral, angsty unprotected breakup sex, san has great pull out game, and a (sort of?) cliffhanger… again? idk i suck at writing tags and proper endings lolololol

RATINGS | NSFW 18+ (minors pls DNI/if it makes u uncomfortable don’t read it)

SONGS | No One Noticed - The Marías, Not You Too- Dr*ke & Been Like This - Doja Cat

SUMMARY | The breakup for this couple was on the horizon. One of them was in denial, and it’s not you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you all for showing Last Pick a lot of love & anon for enjoying it. since a san version was requested, here ya go :) lmk which member should be next if u want me to make this into an angsty atz smut series. kinda like the idea they’re all connected?¿ like a smutiverse… im a little tipsy rn writing this part. also if u catch mistakes, no u didn’t. k bye love u

inspired by a quote from Save Me An Orange by Hayley Grace:

what more did you want from me?

i gave you my heart my soul my body

i let you build a home inside of me

but you still went to the store and bought a lighter

just to set me on fire

did you want to watch me burn?

You’re usually an optimist but it wasn’t until San smashed the vase you bought and painted together at that one arts and crafts store that you realized optimism could only take you so far.

A screaming match broke out immediately. Words bounced off the walls, echoing in your small apartment as fingers were being pointed. He followed you around the entire house as you tried to walk away from the conversation, pinging in your ear like a fly.

San gets emotional when he cares. It was the first thing you liked about him when you first started to talk. How nice would it be to be with someone so well in-tune with their emotions that they don’t why away from it?

If only you’d known it would result in this.

The relationship was done for. It had been for a while. He had been far too busy juggling classes, work, and his new friends who seemed to suddenly fill all the time he used to spend with you. You’d barely even seen him in weeks, and when you did, it was like you were fighting for scraps of his attention.

San’s voice cracked as he shouted behind your head. “You think I don’t know I’ve been busy? I’ve been juggling everything, trying to keep it all together, and you—you—think I don’t feel guilty? You want me to just drop everything? Stop hanging out with my friends? Quit school? What do you want from me?”

He was following you now, not letting you get a moment of peace. You forced yourself to focus on the task of cleaning up the shards, trying to block out his words as you looked for the broom around your house.

“Do you think I want this? You think I want to feel like this? You think I want to hurt you? But you keep demanding more from me, and I can’t do it anymore! I can’t just stop living my life to fix yours!”

“Oh fuck off!” You barked back, finally finding the broom that was in an odd spot in your wardrobe (probably because San had placed it there the last time he used it). You were now growing more annoyed.

“Don’t curse at me! Listen to me for goodness sake!”

Your hands trembled around the broom handle, but you marched towards the vase shards and started sweeping, trying not to hear the poison dripping from his mouth. You had given up on fighting—there was no point anymore. He was too far gone, wrapped up in his own world that was so difficult for him to show up.

“You’re too much, alright?” he spat, his voice cracking with frustration. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think. Every time I try to focus on something else, you’re right there, needing something from me. I can’t fix this. I can’t keep being suffocated—“

You dropped the broom.

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time, and in that moment, you never felt like this about him before.

“Do you hear yourself?” Your voice was shaking, but it was steady, sharp. “In that whole rant you just forced me to hear, not once did you mention us—not once did you mention me like i’m not in this fucking relationship with you! Not once did you mention all i’ve done for you, and the only time you did was to insult me!”

San opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stood there, eyes wide, lips trembling.

You stepped forward as if to challenge his speechlessness, your heart pounding in your chest. “What the fuck are you still doing here then?!”

The room fell silent.

And then, out of nowhere, he tried to reach for you.

It was a movement fuelled by panic if he was truly honest, it was a final desperate attempt to fix things without actually knowing how.

He just knew that he had to have you in his arms and you’d melt. His hand caught yours, pulling you closer, but you yanked it away.

He stepped closer, his breath ragged, reaching for you again with a look in his eyes that was pure guilt you knew all too well.

Your stern face broke when he managed to get you in his large strong arms that wrapped around you.

You stood there, shaking, breathing hard, barely able to hold back the tears.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Your cracking voice was muffled against his hard chest.

And then, in his painful silence, he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You did not stop him.

In fact, you couldn’t.

His next kiss was more desperate and frantic than the last, like he was trying to compensate for all the times he had utterly let you down.

When he finally found the self control to pull back, both of you were panting, faces flushed, hearts racing. He looked at you with a mix of fear, guilt, and longing in his eyes. He wiped your damp cheeks, cupping the sides of your face.

"I don’t mean to," He whispered. “I-I swear, everything I said, I-“

You shook your head in denial, wanting to just shut him up with more kisses knowing if you both talked, you’d eventually argue.

For once, you didn’t want to fight. If the relationship was crashing and burning right now, might as well get one last lick out of it, right?

Metaphorically, and quite literally.

San groaned softly into your mouth, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair and snake to the small of your back as he deepened the kiss with his tongue.

"You drive me insane," He breathed against her lips, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes.

It was true, you always had, in the best and worst ways possible. The feeling was mutual as you stared back at him.

He couldn't resist your pull, the way you were in the moment consumed him entirely. His hands roamed your curves, and reached down to grip your ass firmly as he walked you backwards towards the couch.

You let out a soft gasp, your fingers digging into his waist as you let yourself get sat down with him positioned above you. His knee perched up right between your slightly parted legs.

The friction his knee brushing between your legs sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. He could feel your pulse quickening, and your breath hitching as he sucked and kissed the sides of your neck.

Your hands slipped beneath his black shirt, seeking for skin. With a slight eager tug, he took it off without any argument, revealing his lean muscled torso that you did not hesitate to touch and admire knowing it was going to be the last time.

Instead of letting that knowledge crush you or him, with a low moan, he just leaned into your touch.

“Tell me to stop…” He breathed out, hands on your shoulders to steady himself. He struggled to maintain control as his arousal throbbed against the inside of his zipper.

“Keep going.” You replied in a husky whisper.

With a groan, he gave in to the temptation. His tongue met yours, as his hands slid down to your chest to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, having to bite back a smirk when your back arched into his technique.

Your nimble fingers freed him from his jeans. Unbuttoning, and then zipping down before massaging his hard on through the fabric of his underwear. A breath of relief escaped his lips when his throbbing cock was finally freed.

He helped you out of your top, watching you stroke his impressive length in your hands from above. His hands glided down your back and unclasped your bra, letting your breast sit in all its glory.

He was going to take care of you first until your mouth engulfed him without missing a beat.

“O-oh my god.” His hips bucked involuntarily forward as your skilled hand continued to stroke, the dual sensations of her and her fingers wrapped around his member threatening to overwhelm him.

San’s eyes rolled back as you took him entirely into your mouth. His body weight leaning on his forearms that were on either sides of your head, holding onto the back of the couch for dear life.

Your skilled tongue and throat working in tandem to bring him to the brink of madness. The wet heat blanketing his aching cock was almost too much to bear, each bob of her head sent him more and more over the edge.

"Oh f-fuck!” His mouth hung open as he fisted your hair and fought the urge to thrust deeper.

A part of him couldn’t make sense why this was happening now of all times. He could’ve just taken your desperation to touch him for granted but something about it didn’t feel right.

With effort and a hell lot of focus, San gently stopped you before he could cum. He stroked the side of your face when you looked up at him confused. He shot one of the sweetest dimpled smiles at you.

Seeing that dimpled smile light up your face.

With a hand behind your head, he laid you back on the couch gently. Your hands politely stayed on your own chest, cupping them as you watched his next move.

In one swift motion, he tugged down your underwear with your pyjama shorts and tossed them away.

One of your legs get thrown over his shoulder, and he used his other hand to part your leg wider. His head moved down to your glistening sex and his tongue licked a strip up your folds.

Air got caught in your throat. You let out a shaking deep breath through your lips. His hand on your thigh moved up to your chest, intertwining his fingers with your fingers against your racing heartbeat.

You gripped onto his fingers every time he’d do something that sent shockwaves through your body either with his lips, tongue or his nose. He kissed your sensitive clit, alternating his tongue between that and pounding into your entrance.

“San,” You whined, which only encouraged him to keep going. You tilted your chin upwards, facing the ceiling as tears began welling in your eyes. Unclear if it was the pleasure or the sinking feeling in the out of your stomach.

Then you felt that body shock again, jolting you as you let out a loud moan.

You met his eyes. Those cat-like eyes staring back at you between your legs with laser focus before lazily shutting when he turned his head to the side to lap up your slick arousal from the inner part of your thighs.

He got up and took off his underwear before hovering on-top of you, centring his hard shaft just past your entrance as he supported himself up by the armrest behind your head.

His chain necklace to drop down and dangle in your face.

He gazed into your eyes, reaching down to rub your slick folds once more. He leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips as he readjusted his hard dick between your legs. Your hands wrapped themselves in the dip of his waist as your knees pressed against his hips.

“We can’t keep fighting forever,” You told him in a faint whisper.

Leaning down, he distracted you by capturing your lips into a tender loving kiss to slowly pushed in. He felt your teeth on his lip as your walls adjusted to him.

“I know.” Was all he could murmur against your face as a hand cupped one side of your face.

He kept having your lips in between his as he started to move, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm designed to slowly ease into you. Small gasps escaped your lips and you clutched onto his biceps for support while your neck stretched upwards.

“Baby, you feel incredible.” He picked up the pace slightly, his thrusts growing deeper, and more insistent, as he chased the intense feeling coursing through him.

The way your body clenched around his length, the soft gasps falling from your lips.

With your moans of approval, he seized the opportunity to go even deeper and quicken the pace in your wet welcoming heat. He pulled in your mouth for intoxicating searing kisses he couldn’t get enough of.

“I miss you,” You whimpered out the truth between the kisses. “S-so much.”

He snapped forward with new determination accentuated by the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other.

He let go of your mouth to focus on your chest. "I'm right here baby." He mumbled over your breasts as he cupped one in his large hands, brushing over your nipples before reaching down to lick.

He alternates between wet kisses and whirling his tongue, aimed to only give you pleasure. In his defence, he hasn't had the opportunity to do this in a while.

You grabbed a side of his face to look into his lustful eyes. “I really did love you.” You breathed out.

“I love you too.” He replied, too entranced by the moment to catch that single word in your sentence.

You crashed your lips against his. The technique of his kissing made you moan loudly into his mouth, and then against his jaw with your eyes shut when he was hitting the perfect spot over and over.

Your body was tensing up tighter and tighter as the pressure of the inside you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“I’m close,” San panted. “Come for me. Come first.”

As a result of his husky words, your walls clench around him, and your climax comes crashing in. One passionate thrust as he buried himself inside your convulsing sex, the intense orgasm shook your entire body violently.

While your final convulsions faded, you slumped against the couch, panting heavily. Meanwhile, San rode off your enjoyment only to abruptly slip out of you before blowing a load inside you without a condom on.

He released himself from your legs that were wrapped around him and hurried to your nearby bathroom, his hard-on in his hands.

You lay there in a daze, trying to make sense of everything, feeling a mix of confusion and shame. You covered your face with your hands, desperate to hide from the reality of the situation.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up from the leather couch to sit up, its surface sticking a little to your sweaty skin, before you reached for your underwear lying forgotten at your feet.

You managed to get most of your clothes back on when he returned. The sight of him—his broad athletic build and that confident stride—distracted you just long enough for him to lean down and kiss you, his hands gently resting on the side of your neck.

You instinctively covered his hand with your own, locking eyes with him.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft.

You stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his question sinking in.

He kissed you again, his lips warm and insistent, and for a moment, the thoughts swirling in your head began to fade.

Before you knew it, he lowered himself down onto the floor across from you, wanting to pull you on top of him to straddle him.

“Stop. No more.” you murmured, pushing him away gently.

Your heart pounding as your knees pressed against the hardwood floors when you realised you were already sitting on his thighs.

San sharply sighed, a little disappointed, but he didn’t fight it. He let go of his grip on your waist, and you slowly kicked yourself off him.

The two of you lay on the floor, side by side, your breaths finally slowing after whatever that was. The silence between you wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

He reached for his underwear with his feet, slipping it on slowly, his eyes never leaving you. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was going on.

You turned your head to look at him. His eyes turned to the ceiling, his expression unreadable, distant even though he was right there.

“San,” you began softly, your voice breaking the stillness. “I think we—”

His phone buzzed, cutting through the tension, and he glanced at it with another sigh. You felt the moment slip away as he got up and fumbled for his phone left in his pants by the couch.

“It’s Mingi,” he muttered.

“San,” you tried again, your tone heavier this time, begging for his attention. But he’d already answered the call.

You stayed on the floor, your chest tightening as fragments of their conversation reached your ears.

“Dude, what? I’m in the middle of… Huh? No, I haven’t heard from her,” San said, his tone sharp but tinged with concern. “She’s been dodging everyone since that night at Yeosang’s when you wouldn’t shut up about your conquests.”

Your frown deepened as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. His brows furrowed, his full attention on the call like you weren’t even there.

“Well, maybe you should go check on her then,” San said, leaning back against the couch. “What, come over? Her place or yours?”

A pause, then his expression shifted—confusion, followed by clear exasperation.

San ran a hand through his messy hair. “Fine, whatever. I’ll come over later.” He hung up, tossing the phone onto the floor like it had personally wronged him.

“Mingi needs help with something,” he said it like that was enough explanation.

You stared at him, baffled and angry, “So you’re going?”

He turned to you, guilt flashing briefly in his eyes before he looked away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said quietly.

The words hit you like a slap, but what was worse than the sting was the inevitability that this was always how it would be. You, waiting for scraps of his time, his attention. Him, running off to play hero for everyone but you.

“San,” you said, your voice trembling. “You always have a choice. You just never choose me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You shot back. “You couldn’t even let me finish breaking up with you before answering his call.”

“What? It’s not like that. This is serious to him—he really likes her—”

“Save it,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Since you’re always serious about everyone else, just go.”

He hesitated, his hand hovering near his phone. “You’re being—”

“Go,” you repeated firmly, tears welling in your eyes but your tone unwavering. “And don’t ever come back this time.”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to defend himself, or to stay, but then he stood up. He pulled the rest of his clothes back on, grabbed his phone, and shoved it into his back pocket without a word.

He glanced at you on his way out, his gaze searching for something, anything, to make this easier. He convinced himself he’d call you tomorrow, that this wasn’t really goodbye like the other times you both have tried to end it. He didn’t realize how serious you were this time.

He walked past the shards and the broom and left. The door clicked shut behind him.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

negan x reader mirror on the ceiling👀😏🙏

thank you so much for the request!! <3

tags: !NSFW!, mirror sex, swearing, no foreplay straight to sex, pet names, dirty talk, mentions of potential cucking? mentions of sex tapes,

word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Saviors Era Negan x f!reader

You’re laughing when Negan walks in.

You can’t help it, especially when there’s a gigantic mirror that’s been hoisted up and basically strapped to the ceiling. 

By now, you know the drill whenever you get ordered up to Negan’s room. After months of teasing each other, the dam broke a few weeks back and ever since then, you’ve been going at it like animals, unable to keep your hands off each other. 

Officially speaking, you’re not one of the wives. There’s no title or open declaration to whatever is going on between you both. No one should know about you two, though with Negan’s big mouth, it’s hard to tell if your secrecy is holding up or if everyone is too scared to say they know what’s going on.

As far as you're concerned, Negan has kept things under wraps, coming up with excuses to justify why he needs to talk to you in private. He does this all while avoiding the real reason— he’s finally fed up with you giving him bedroom eyes all day.

Turning to look at him, you see Negan’s eyes flicker up from your ass to meet your gaze. You smirk, pointing up at your reflection “Really? How did you even get that up there?”.

Negan chuckles, strolling over to place Lucille on his armchair “I didn’t put it up there, darlin”. 

Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch him. He’s only been here for about twenty seconds and you can already tell he’s more teasing than usual. Whether that’ll make things more fun or annoying, you’re unsure.

“No shit, Sherlock” you scoff, planting your hands on your hips “but what’s the point of it?”.

He doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, he lowers his head, watching you through his lashes with a steady, knowing gaze. Negan knows the answer and he’s well aware that you know too. You just want to hear him say it.

“Negan,” you say as a warning when he remains silent “y’know if you just ordered me up here to be a dick, I’ll leave again”.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, he comes closer. “C’mon, you know I got it so I can watch your ass bounce when you’re riding me” Negan grins, unzipping his leather jacket.

”Oh so the view isn’t good enough when I’m doing all the work on your dick?” You reply, crossing your arms defensively.

This is how you and Negan communicate best, playfully bickering back and forth like an old married couple… which is ironic when you’re the only one he’s fucking that he’s not married to.

“It’s a terrific view, baby, but what can I say? I miss that fine ass of yours” pulling you flush against his chest, Negan’s hands glide down to squeeze your backside possessively. 

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to maintain a glare but it's clear your faux annoyance is starting to wane.

“But that’s not all I miss,” Negan continues “it’s been a whole damn week without my dick being in your sweet…” 

His lips find your neck, a lingering kiss making its home there. 

“Tight…” another kiss, edging up by your jawline this time. His hands still firmly grip your ass, pressing his growing erection against you.

“Warm…” Negan gives you a peck on your cheek, right by your mouth “pussy”. 

Then, with a confident grin, he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. As soon as your lips meet, any semblance of resistance crumbles. Clothes become inconvenient obstacles, hindering the reunion of your bare skin.

Hands fumble with belts and zippers, shirts are yanked over heads and before you know it, you’re naked and sliding onto his lap.

Negan sits at the top of his bed, pillows pushed up by the headboard as his hands trail down your naked form. He traces the curves of your waist and the slope of your hips before dipping between your thighs to lightly tease your core.

You look up at the ceiling to take in the large mirror that now dominates the space above you. Your own skeptical expression meets your gaze. It’s not an angle you’re used to but you can definitely see a lot.

Negan joins you, letting his head fall back on the pillows. Bringing his hands up, you both watch as Negan’s hands go around the curve of your ass and up your back, losing sight as your hair covers them.

“Just how I imagined” he muses, his grip coming back down to lightly hold your hips. You look down at him and Negan meets your gaze with a smirk.

Taking a deep breath, you lift yourself up. “You haven’t tried this out with one of the wives yet?” you refer to the mirror while teasingly lowering yourself just enough for Negan to feel your pussy.

The look he gives you is almost quizzical as he tries to simultaneously suppress a moan. “Nah, wanted to break it in with someone who’d actually appreciate the effort” he grunts as he feels you.

Slowly, you begin to sink down onto him, your slick folds parting around his thick shaft. You gasp softly at the stretch, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length.

Inch by inch, you envelop him. Negan’s head falls back with a low groan but luckily, he can still see. When your ass meets his thighs, with his manhood fully inside of you, Negan can’t help but let out a string of praise and admiration. 

"Fuck, doll, you drive me wild,” he praises “a fuckin’ natural if I’ve ever seen one, damn it’s a talent how much your pretty face turns me on” 

Slowly, you move. There’s no need to rush, especially if the reasoning behind this is to truly savor the mirror’s view. Lifting your hips, you rise until only the tip of Negan remains inside of you before sinking back down. 

You follow that rhythm, gradually increasing your pace but never bouncing up and down on him. You want him to relish in each movement as you ride him. 

In the mirror, Negan watches as the curve of your ass cheeks rise and fall in a mesmerizing rhythm. The reflection gives a different light to your body, highlighting the smooth expanse of skin and the hypnotizing plush of your ass.

Just when Negan thought he’d seen all of you, this blows him away all over again.

As if Negan doesn’t feel cocky enough, the mere sight of you riding him makes him even more emboldened. Bringing eyes veiled with lust back to you, he reaches around to grasp your ass, guiding your movements.

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing “you’ll be the death of me but hell, at least I’ll enjoy every fuckin’ second”.

With quick and sudden movements, Negan flips you onto your back. You land with an “oof!” as Negan slips out of you. He quickly settles between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts them up and out to the sides.

Your eyes go up to the mirror and you see yourself. The flush on your cheeks, the parted lips and the way your back arches towards yourself as Negan fills you makes you wonder if Negan actually had a good idea including this mirror. 

Negan leans in close, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "You like looking, doll? You're soaking my sheets, y’know that?" he punctuates his words with a deep thrust “Must really like this mirror idea now, huh?”.

Your reflection stares back at you, eyes wide and slightly unfocused as you near your climax.

His dirty talk borders on taunting as he fucks into you, each word dripping with a certain arrogance only Negan can make sexy. “It’s like a slip and slide down here!” he chuckles “Aw baby, loving every second of seeing yourself get fucked, is that it?”.

Negan’s filthy words push you over the edge and you watch as your body tenses. Negan fucks you through it, not wanting to slow down even though he can feel his own release so close. 

“Damn, you’re easy,” he teases but he has no time to be smug. Hurriedly pulling out from your warmth, Negan only gives himself a few strokes before erupting onto your stomach. Your body twitches from your high as his cum splatters on to your skin, streaks of Negan coating you.

Negan flops down beside you when he finishes, both of you trying to catch your breath. The mirror shows two dishevelled people – sweat glistening on their skin, hair mussed, and your stomach marked with Negan’s release. 

“You look real pretty when you’re fucked senseless” his voice is a low gravelly tone that almost makes you sleepy. And the softness of his bed practically begs you to stay and take a nap with him by your side.

Yet Negan always has a way of keeping you on your feet, not giving you any time to let the sleepiness fester. “I think next time, we should make a sex tape,” he announces.

You wait for him to laugh but when he doesn’t, you grumble “Do it with one of your wives”.

“Noooooo” he whines, moving on to his side so he can face you properly “I wanna do it with you, so I can have that pretty face on tape and watch it over and over again”.

Negan smirks at the mere thought of it “Hell, I might even show it to the wives, might help them figure out how to get the job done if you know what I–”.

Grabbing a pillow from behind your head, you hit him with it.

“You talk too much,” you snark, biting your lip to stop a giggle from escaping “and no, I’m not making an educational sex tape for you to show your wives”.

Negan narrows his eyes when the pillow falls from his face, scooching closer before planting a kiss on your shoulder. “Think about it?” he coaxes “If you don’t want to record it, that’s fine, baby… the wives can just watch the next time you’re here”.

In response, you hit him with the pillow. Again.

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

[fall-inq]

Blackberry Jam 

I got tired of seeing no platonic Nikto or Krueger so I thought I’d try writing some. Feedback is welcome!

Pairing: Krueger x Nikto x Platonic Reader

Warnings: Nikto and Krueger being Nikto and Krueger, Violence, Car wrecks?, Reader nearly dies, No comfort, Possible innacurate geography

Read my rules

“Remind me to never trust you two with driving.” You grumble, holding back the urge to shove Nikto. With Chimera and KorTac’s recent team-up, you find yourself often paired up with the most unstable men from both sides. Nikto you were more familiar with. 

Krueger…not so much. You could tell that they knew each other well- way better than you would ever know. Which was fair- seeing as you were a “new addition to the team” in one of the most terrifying PMC’s in the world. Unsurprisingly, no one was eager to meet you or be put on a mission with you, Nikto especially. “This one is a runt,” he had said. “We should just kill it now.” Heartwarming, how kindly KorTac welcomed their newest operators. How wise they were to immediately pair you with him on missions. Usually, you were chosen like the last one picked in dodgeball and the one who took most of the hits. Now you were just the one who took the hits.

Both of you hated each other at first. His most common complaints were that you “talked to much.” That turned into “They don’t listen to me” because you’d be silent on missions with him. Then it was “they put us into danger,” and “get themself landed in the infirmary too often.” Over time, the complaints died down and Nikto grew tolerant of you, and you figured out when he wanted you to be quiet and when to talk. Instead of you two avoiding each other when not on active duty, he partly does it now, sometimes sitting down at the table to watch your Black Jack games with Horangi. Both of you ended up teaching him the game despite his uninterest.

It’s silly, growing jealous over someone who has known him longer. Why are you even jealous? Your relationship with Nikto is more so “forced into a get-along T-Shirt” than willing acquaintances. He and Krueger have known each other for years. There’s also the significant difference in mental stability. …Maybe that’s why he avoids you- he doesn’t want to hurt you. Or maybe it’s the usual: you’re annoying to him.

What’s worse is that Krueger noticed, and the smug bastard enjoys it. And yes, he does tease you about it. The taunts are the only thing he says to you.

Bitter feelings aside, the mission was running as smoothly as a mission with the two idiots could go. The task was simple: Investigate some small buildings on the coast of the recently captured Southern area of Verdansk, search them for intel, weapons free on any hostiles. At least, you thought it was simple from the back of the stolen ZIL-4334 the three of you entered. Mistake #1: You failed to notice Nikto entering the driver’s seat. Mistake #2: You failed to see Krueger do a sign of the cross despite not being religious. Krueger’s mistake was not squeezing you between him and Nikto. Or maybe that was purposeful.

Nikto floored it the second he decided he was ready to go. Poor, unwise little you slammed against the back of the truck’s cabin as the vehicle lurched forward. You hadn’t even realized you hit your head. Or that you were screaming as Nikto drove through a fence and sharply turned onto the road. Was that laughter? Was Nikto laughing? It was an odd, muffled sound. Rough, deep, and barking, like you had imagined. Despite your terror, you mentally celebrated. Horangi owes you his rations. Andre Nikto was capable of laughing.

That was also the moment the truck swerved again and tipped over. Due to the severe lack of tarp, you were launched out of the cargo bed easily, landing roughly on the asphalt and tumbling in the opposite direction. That would’ve been fine-ish, had you not kept rolling and had the terrain not started sloping down. The smell of burning rubber, road, salt and dirt filled your nose as your hands frantically tried to find purchase on the ground. A flock of birds startle and fly away at the sound.

“Nikto!”

You're falling backwards. The wind rushes past your head.

“NIKTO!”

You can hear the waves. You try to scream again-

A hand roughly grabs onto your arm and yanks you forward, giving you whiplash as you fall onto the road face-first yet again. You lie there while one of your teammates walks over to your front and squats down, his hand grabbing you by your cheeks and pulling your head up. “Krueger,” the Austrian answers. You know the fucker is smiling behind his dumb hood. “Come on. Up, up.” He drawls, using his other hand to pat your cheek. Smacking his hand away, you rise and dust yourself off, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your head. Which brings you back to the present- walking down the highway next to the Verdansk coast.

“You’ve never seen me drive,” Krueger points out after your complaint, his monotone voice going light as he calls back. “And I never want to, thank you.” You retort, rubbing your scraped-up cheek. The taller of the group falls back from Nikto’s side to join yours as you walk. “…You are alright?” He huffed a laugh as you side-eyed him. “What? I care.” Krueger mocks, causing Nikto to snort. “He lies.” You know he does. Both of them do. “You’re young,” the Austrian remarks- like he’s secretly saying that you’re inferior and don’t belong. Like you’re a beetle he wants to crush under his boot simply for fun. Your frown deepens. “So?” He shrugs. “Shouldn’t you be making friendship bracelets with the 141? They’d be happier to have canon fodder like you.” You know it’s on purpose. You know Krueger- an asshole who tries to get a rise out of anyone. You should be the bigger person and you fail. “You motherfucker-” You want to punch him. You want to throw him off the side of the cliff. Want to break something of his even though you know he’ll rock your shit and gloat about it. “Stop.” Nikto barks, shooting the two of you a harsh glare that doesn’t affect the taller one of the group. The mood dies like a paper tossed into flame. It shrivels and blackens and falls apart into ash. The Austrian rejoins the Russian, leaving you in your usual spot.

It’s silent again. The birds are long gone. A tiny part of you wants to flee, too. The tiny part that wants to run away to a world where everything is okay and your childhood bedroom was never changed. “I’m hungry,” Krueger whines from up ahead. “Not our issue,” Nikto replies curtly. “I’ll make it your issue.” Krueger shoots back. “You do that I’ll remove your stomach with my hands.”

“I’d like that,” Krueger hums. You wrinkle your nose. “Ew. Gross.” What was more gross was the blood leaving your mouth when you spat on the side of the road. “You shut up, this is an adult conversation.” Krueger replies curtly. “Can the “adult conversations” wait for some cheap motel room-” “Both of you shut up!” Nikto suddenly snaps. You comply, though Krueger simply huffs a laugh. The last thing you want is an over-paranoid Nikto. Krueger seems to want exactly that.

The wind rustles past you again. The waves get harsher for a moment before settling down a little. A gray expanse stretches over the three of you and you suddenly feel like you’re in some sort of apocalypse. Is it going to rain? Krueger pauses, his attention focused on some bushes on the roadside.

“[C/N], come.” Krueger demands, walking over to the bushes. “Why?” He merely gestures with his hand. You can feel Nikto’s irritation rising like a steaming tea kettle’s squeal as you rush over to him. “We don’t have time for this,” the older snaps. “I’m getting a snack!” Krueger shushes, crouching next to the bushes. He grabs one of his small storage bags and opens it. “Look,” he urges, pulling you down. Blackberry bushes. It’s odd how such things can grow in the middle of a war zone. “Help me.” He says, grabbing one of the black-purple berries and plucking it. You follow the action, grabbing one, two, three.

“Sebastian,” Nikto demands hotly. For a moment you forgot he existed. You wonder how many times he’s done the same. Krueger stands, ignoring the dirt on his knees as he walks back over to the Russian and offers him a blackberry. The small berry is smacked out of his hand. You wonder if Krueger pouted as he zipped up the bag and clipped it onto his belt. “Don’t ask me for any when you’re hungry later.” He teases. Nikto forces a deep breath. “We don’t get hungry.”

Before any of you can move on, Hell breaks loose. Someone tackles Krueger- an enemy- and there’s a burst of deep dark liquid when the two hit the ground and a flash of metal. The hostile raises the blade again, aiming for Krueger’s face while Krueger pushes at the man’s chest- and then there’s Nikto, snatching the man’s arm and pulling it back farther than it should go. There’s a gross crunch and pop sound that’s partly drowned out by the hostile’s pained shout.

You fumble with your gun as Nikto tears the man to shreds. Bones continue pop out of place and break at his assault all while Krueger simply lays there as if he were cloud watching. Finally getting a goddamn grip, you raise the weapon at the man’s head while Nikto chokes him in a headlock. His arm presses further and further into the man’s neck, making the enemy sputter and gasp for air that won’t come through.. You imagine a blade, sawing at the man’s skin in an enraged effort to cut it off. You could imagine the red spilling. Imagine the garbled, bubbly cries as the man coughs up his own blood. You hear the crunch of a throat and finally fire a bullet into the fool’s head.  Nikto drops him with a jolt before storming over to you. The body falls like a plushie falls off a child’s bed. Meaningless and anti-climactic.

Nikto cuffing the back of your head knocks you out of your thoughts. “What have we told you about staying on task?!” He shouts, cuffing you again before shoving you to the ground. You don’t bother trying to argue. Stupid Krueger- it’s his fault for dragging you into his dumb distraction. You know that it’s your fault for listening to him and you don’t want to admit it. 

Sebastian stands, feeling his side curiously. The Russian abandons you and sets his sights on the Austrian. “Nikto, it’s fine.” He, too, is shoved to the ground. Krueger tuts. “Andre,” he calls, tone dropping. There’s no answer as Nikto crawls on top of him, pulling out his blade and moving to cut away the fabric hiding Krueger’s wound.

Only there’s no wound. Just dark purple…juice? Krueger pushes the Russian away and detaches the pouch the blackberries were in from his belt. It’s wet- covered in dark stains of what both you and Nikto thought was blood. Krueger opens the bag. “…It’s jam,” He explains with an irritating smirk, scooping some out on his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He tastes it and wrinkles his nose. “Hm, could be better.” Nikto’s fist connects with his face. Unsure whether to help the Austrian or to go looking for the intel, you watch the scuffle for a few moments before deciding it was best to go with the latter.

“Can one of you explain to me why Nikto and Krueger are covered in crushed blackberries and bruises?” Nikolai sighs, trying to keep his composure. Both of the masked men look at you accusingly. “[C/N],” Nikolai sighs. “What the fuck did I do?!

[fluff-n-cookies]

NOT PROOF READ

Gender neutral

Something something Izuku Midoriya and the best friend that he likes to think that he's better than.(some angst with a happy ending to quwell my heart.)

Izuku Midoriya and his best friend, one with NO quirk, and NO other friends. they're pretty stupid too, the type of person with B's and C'son their report card.

they don't have that many dreams, they're simply just "Enjoying" school.

like what type of a person does that? do you have no passion? No light in your life? you're just there without thought, why? weird.

but regardless, Izuku keeps them around, they're nice to have when Kacchan's being an asshole, so then he's not the only one that's being yelled at.

They're also quirkless, equally as useless as he.

they're fun to hang with... sometimes.

I mean... they're kind of annoying, they laugh too loud looking back, and they talk a lot about themselves, and don't really do much other than complain and gossip, but beggars can't be choosers! this is the only friend that he has, an annoying friend is better than no friends right?

that is until, All might, when he comes into the picture.

and suddenly the world's so much bigger than those Friday night gaming sessions on the living room Xbox, it's bigger than going to merch pop ups to buy limited edition All might figurines and getting signatures from smaller hero's.

it's bigger, so much bigger, than comforting the other about being quirkless and useless.

And suddenly, it's about training, it's about learning, it's about growing into a hero. it's about fighting for civilians and keeping those who you love safe.

It's about UA.

It's about the USJ attack and fighting Shigaraki.

It's about the Sports Festival.

It's about One For All and All For One.

It's about Stain.

But more so, it's about Ochako and Iida, about Todoroki and Tsu and Momo-

and suddenly, you aren't a part of him anymore.

you aren't the person he comes running to when Kacchan calls him Useless, he doesn't come over to talk about the newest emerging hero's.

there's aren't pictures of you on the wall, they've been replaced by new pictures of his adventures at UA. The collectibles that you bought him for Christmas pushed to the back of his shelves to make room for little All might themed tickets that Ochako found at the dollar store.

you doesn't text you much anymore, when you do shoot him a

'hey Izuku! we haven't talked in a while, wanna go to that one coffee shop to catch up? :3'

it's met with

'I'm sorry I'm replying so late! I was with Todoroki and Iida training. I'll text you later.'

he never texted you later. or ever again really.

because you're here, still quirk less, still useless, still so very hurt by all those things that Kacchan said.

You're here, not a hero, you're a civilian, no dreams and no goals, only you.

and without that green haired boy that grew up with you, he left, and now he's saving the world.

He forgot your birthday.

[loserlvrss]

sneak peek : chapter one : the man in the water : beta version 2.0

The only time I was allowed to leave Sector One was to witness ordinary citizens bound to death by other ordinary people who deemed themselves as more. It was a gruesome world humanity had created, but apparently old habits die hard, and new ones die faster. We were the same people living in different eras, with different titles for the same old ways.

Gathered up a level, where the collapsed roof met the clashing battlefield of gray-sky, were men. They wore the forbidden powder-blue, reserved for the people death seemed to follow like an admirer. They watched through the nature that had reclaimed: vines adorned with white flowers, hanging just like the fabric around the Reapers’ bodies. They instilled fear into the population through the laser-guns they carried like they couldn't physically put them down. The modern day Grim Reaper that silently enforced the rules and regulations of living the dream, even the deniers, craved.

There was a suffocating feeling coursing through me, like an ear-splitting whisper. It was almost a guilty feeling because, in reality, I knew killing people for disobeying the law some man—who deemed himself king—decided was wrong. However, it was just the way of life; I had no right to play mercenary because God knows I don’t envy either position. I tell myself that people live and people die, that we all return to dust eventually. Hell, I’ve lived with the thought looming over my head my entire life, some people just get that bittersweet-release faster than others do.

As I approached further, the all-too-familiar water-filled circle made the pit in my stomach grow. It was a stone fountain that was once used as a wishing well, only used now to take away the wish of life with the kiss of death. Bound behind his back by chains, in the middle of the blood-stained water was an ash-blonde man. He was obviously beaten up pretty badly; blood running down his biceps and hairline. He wore tight-fitted, dark clothes that contrasted Sector Ones’ scheme, but fit the scenery well. His head hung low, like he didn't have the strength left to lift it.

Another man, cleaned and clothed freshly, had arrived from the shadows; one of the only passages back to sanctuary. Thunder cracked, his arm reaching out to stop me from going any further into the rain that had started to trickle and prick the ground. I gave him an annoyed look as I pushed through the barrier. I stopped at the edge of the pool, the crying sky having slicked the white slip dress to my skin, following my hair. I glanced up, a potion of lightning and dark clouds—the rainwater stung as it rolled into my eyes and I carelessly wiped my face. The pool embraced my leg, midway to my calf as I finally stepped over its perimeter. Where the seams met the surface, the never-fading color seeped into the fabric, but still I furthered, sloshing up to the criminal. The Reapers above pointed their weapons down to me.

I kneeled in front of the blonde.

“What’s your name?” My voice broke through the deafening man-made silence. The offender didn’t budge, and if I didn’t know any better, evident by the way his muscles twitched and strained on his arms, I would’ve thought he was already dead.

My fingers worked faster than my mind, coming up and taking his cheeks between my pointer and thumb, where then I leveled his head with mine. He avoided the contact, throwing himself from my grip like my print burned him. Or maybe he was just appalled by my sights, as I was his.

authors note → reworked the story, and finally planned it out lmao we won’t be rawdogging it this time. hopefully I can start rewriting / writing the chapters soon, but I also have a couple other things I’ve taken on (like a fucking dumbass, but I can’t be alone with my thoughts) so we’ll see. I’ve been with this idea for years so I think it’s about time I actually do something with it ㅤ♡ྀི YES, IT’S WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON. NO, I’M NOT CHANGING IT TO SECOND. IT IS STILL A Y/N FIC ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒

the world crumbled a long time ago. humanity could've died off—and, some would say it had—but, in reality, all it did was prosper under new circumstances. broken shreds of what remained, nature reclaimed, intertwining with the wires of the programming. some would die just to be in the network of higher-ups, and some would rather watch the world burn a hundred times over. the question wasn't, which are you? it's who are you? In a place where somebody is really nobody.

a place where technology hadn't died: the sector one. the place where nobody who was ever somebody lived. a distant place to almost everyone else. only handing itself out on a silver platter to the, self-proclaimed, elite of the elite—old money, nepotism and pure coincidence—people lied, stole, betrayed, killed and died just for a place amongst the best of the worst. no one deserved the title this place disguised them with, wasting and polluting an already hellish world.

but, there was a whisper against the wind. the monarch's reign would soon come to fall—the reapers alongside. sector one would no longer prosper off the graves of its people. the walls would crumble as the old habits died. all it would take was eight pirates and one so-called princess to overthrow reality and start a revolution where everyone could be anyone.

there weren't mercenaries anymore, just a new world. and, all you had to do was step into it.

all rights reserved copyright © loserlvrss 2025

genre // romance, dystopian, cyberpunk, cybercore, drama, alternate universe, action, enemies to lovers, suggestive, smut, love triangle, multi x reader, jeong yunho x reader, song mingi x reader, first person pov, series, comedy, post-apocalyptic universe

estimated word count // ≈ 50-60k (around 30 chapters total)

theme warnings // language, descriptive death & fights, blood, gore, sexual & suggestive content, substance abuse (drugs & alcohol), mentions of suicide, usage of weapons, physical and emotional abuse from a parent. content warnings will be stated on all individual chapters.

status // ongoing, will post again in 2025.

playlist // halazia ateez, poison love dreamcatcher, virtual angel artms, predator lee gi kwang, xs rina sawayama, pins and needles nessa barrett, do or die dpr artic dpr ian, i’m not a woman i’m a god halsey, coma dvii, silver light ateez, supernova aespa, ganma lexie liu, cyberpunk ateez, ++ more.

author’s note // tag list open !! please send an ask or comment. also if you’ve read chapter one and two, no you haven’t :3

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six chapter seven chapter eight chapter nine chapter ten chapter eleven chapter twelve chapter thirteen chapter fourteen chapter fifteen chapter sixteen chapter seventeen chapter eighteen chapter nineteen chapter twenty chapter twentyone chapter twentytwo chapter twentythree ++ more to be added.

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I like about Leo is that he’s honestly really chill? It’s easy to remember the moments where he’s being obnoxious or excitable but I feel like most of the time he’s incredibly “go with the flow” and has an overall affable demeanor.

[autistic-katara]

icl i would be at least a little happy with almost any ending for stranger things but one thing that would ruin all of it would be an epilogue (of a decade or more later)

[yippie-madness]

actually and genuinely fuck you if your reslonse to seeing dying people beg for you to help them by answering a fucking ask is to whine that it makes tou uncomfy.

"it makes me feel uncomfortable, it makes me feel guilty" GOOD. GENOCIDE IS MEANT TO BE FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE. MAYBE YOU WOULDN'T FEEL GUILTY IF YOU DIDN'T RESPOND BY IGNORING IT. GET USED TO DEALING WITH DISCOMFORT YOU ABSOLUTE SCUM. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING DYING. IMAGINE SEEING SOMEONE, A LOVED ONE, YOUR KID, YOUR PARENT, YOUR SIBLING, YOUR FRIEND WHOEVER BURN TO DEATH INFRONT OF YOU AND THEN GETTING THIS FUCKING RESPONSE. IMAGINE NOT HAVING THE MONEY TO BUY WATER AND THIS BEING PEOPLES' RESPONSES. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. YOU ARE ABSOLUTE FUCKING SCUM.

"disappointing to see 10 new asks in my inbox just to be the same ask for donations over and over" IMAGINE BEGGING FOR HELP BECAUSE YOU ARE TRAPPED IN NOT A WAR ZONE A GENOCIDE STARVING BECAUSE ALL AID HAS BEEN BLOCKADED AND SOMEONE COMPLAINING THAT ITS "disappointing" TO HAVE TO SEE YOU ASKING FOR HELP. NOT EVEN FOR MONEY JUST FOR SOMEONE TI SHARE YOUR STORY.

"Edit: To all the people reblogging this, I'm sorry you have had to deal with this too. And yes, you can put this in your pinned post! Stay safe <3" DEAL? DEAL WITH DYING PEOPLE BEGGING FOR HELP? FUCK YOU. YOU ARE FUCKING VILE. YOU ARE THE KIND OF PEOPLE THAT MAKE GENOCIDES LIKE THIS HAPPEN, LET THEM GO UNNOTICED.

grow the fuck up. i don't care that your probably like 13, you can do SOMETHING. you can share posts, you can email representatives, you can sign petitions, you can just talk about. but now. the idea of other people suffering makes you feel too uncomfy and too guilty to bother.

and dont you dare go calling yourself an anti zionist if your like this you coward.

[altruistic-meme]

sigh.

[starlooove]

I alluded to this in tags awhile ago but like. IK continuity doesn’t work this way and when things shifted from kooky and silly 40s stuff with psas scattered to like dark brooding whatever we’re supposed to take it as like either time passing with some hand waving to personalities or ‘it was always like this for them trust’ but thinking about dick specifically going from holy galloping grasshoppers Batman to dealing with Bruce in spyral and shit is so so so sad I can’t articulate it well rn but like everyone kinda agrees the shift happened after two face and jason but like no dick saw it all he saw it while it happened he saw Bruce taking tim to baseball games and then gaslighting him at 16 he saw the man who’d take care of a random baby on the fly threaten to send his youngest son back to the league he saw the man who helped usher in a new era of young heroes treat Steph like shit he saw the man who inspired hope for a future in civilians heroes and enemies alike take advantage of cass’ suicidal thoughts and separation from her own humanity he saw everything and he just has to. Deal. To everyone else this is just Bruce and ppl like Tim and cass justify it to an extent bc they love him and get exasperated and when Dick is angry but how couldn’t Dick be angry? That’s his dad and he’s being so fucking mean and idk I’m rambling

[tommyssupercoolblog]

hey how much is sapnap and matpat in the new tommyinnit video, i want to watch but i don't really want to see them

Matpat isn't in it. Sapnap is but it's just Tommy seeing him coming out of a store, asking if he's fucked up mentally, sapnap says no and Tommy is like "nice seeing you" very dryly and sarcasticly, and leaves. A lot of people say Tommy was being a bitch to him on purpose but he has autism and I ALSO have autism so....idfk

[wmnylander]

the reaction to the NHL bringing 4 teams to sweden has been something that's been bugging me for the last few days like no, you don't need to 'grow the game' in sweden. everyone knows that there's already a steadfast loyalty and enjoyment of hockey there. but have any of the north american old men with (unfortunately) access to the internet thought about how accessible these games are to other european fans?? even some fans from non-european countries?? how it's easier for people not in canada/the us to enjoy literally 2 whole games because they're at a normal/manageable time?? that's how you grow the game. it's how you grow any sport. losers.