#the shit you ponder is the REAL shit you know?

[gallusrostromegalus]

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez isn't quite sure where Tousen is keepin' his fangs but he's damn sure the shinigami has them and will fucking BITE if provoked.

He can SMELL it.

"...Like, you can sense it in his reiatsu?" Yylfordt Granz asked, cocking his head at the leader of The Beasts. The sixth Espada and his fraccion were 'having a loyalty-training excercise' of eating far more than they were rationed, taking various psychoactive substances Yylfordt liberated from his brother's laboatory and "Chilling" instead of doing any kind of real work. Their leader wasn't 'chilling though, and it was kind of harshing the vibe. Grimmjow was standing at the edge of their hidden balcony created by the odd intersection of the dome with the remains of the city beneath, glaring down at the Shinigami where he was directing the Numeros in Aizen's latest cockanamie construction project.

"No, I SMELL it! With my nose!" Grimmjow snarled, rolling his eyes.

The Beasts all looked at each other, then turned to Grimmjow.

"HUH?" they chorused, and Grimmjow groaned with agitation.

"He. Smells. Like. Another. Apex. Predator." Grimmjow spoke slowly to them, as though that sentence remotely made any kind of sense. "Trust me, I'd know."

The Beasts cocked their heads at various angles to see if he made more sense sideways.

"Okay, look, it's like this-" Grimmjow huffed, turning and dropping into a low squat to get down to their level. "Y'all remember... fuckin what'sherass-"

"Oh yeah Boss, I remember her real well." D-Roy grinned and Grimmjow hucked a tin of snacks at him.

"Nel Someone? TwoOldSchwangs or something like that? Blue hair, huge Bazongas?" Grimmjow elaborated.

"Neliel Tu OdelSchwank, yes." Shawlong nodded. "Scary bitch."

"That's her! You remember what she smelled like, right?" Grimmjow waved excitedly.

"...No, because I'm not a stupid creep that goes around sniffing up women who could kick my head off?" Edrard glared.

"She was distinctly Caprine, you could smell her resurrection halfway across the city." Shawlong nodded.

"Oh yeah, Goat Girl!" Nakeem perked up. "Yeah okay you'd get a whiff of her and know she was in an ass-kicking mood and had twice as many legs to kick with."

"Right- Now think about how me an' Starrk or Hallibel smell." Grimmjow explained. "We'll fuck up your shit too, but it's by tearing your throat our with our teeth, not hooves or horns, yeah?"

The Beasts pondered this though varying degrees and types of inebriation.

"...Oh. Oh Shit. I think yer right Boss!" D-Roy said, eyes widening with alarm.

"Did you smoke the same shit as the rest of us or are you two on something special?" Nakeem groaned.

"Dude shut up- no, no he's right!" D-Roy waved. "S'like... Kinda smells like yeast and armpit, yeah? Us preds got it, but the others don't, no matter how scary they are!

"YEAH!" Grimmjow pointed at him, teeth bared with excitement. "THAT'S THE BITCH!"

"Ohhh wait you're right!" Edrad nodded slowly. "Huh. I smelled it around the Shinigami, but I thought that was Aizen, not blind bones down there."

"Nah, Aizen smells mostly like his fancy skin lotion, it's Tousen." Grimmjow dismissed the thought with a wave of his can of beer. "- I mean Gin's got it too, but we all know he's a snake and where he keeps his teeth." he explained, patting his hip and sword with his free hand as he took a swig.

"Tousen though- I can't put my finger on what it is, but he sure damn smells like some kinda carnivore." Grimmjow grumbled, hand on his chin and squinting as he pondered the scent. "Makes no sense though- even if I can smell the teeth, I can't figure out where they are. 'S not his sword, that's a whole 'nother mess. It just... hangs around him. Growling."

"What kind of mammal?" Coyote Starrk piped up from the door, between handfuls of jerky.

"HEY! Who invited you?" Grommjow snarled.

"I heard you say my name a minute ago, thought I'd come check." the Primera Espada shrugged. "So is he like a weasel or hyena or what?" he asked through another mouthful of jerky.

"THAT'S THE WHOLE PROBLEM, I DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW!! AND STOP SNITCHIN' THE JERKY!" Grimmjow roared, getting up and swiping the bag from Coyote, who let him have it.

"...Actually," Grimmjow frowned, sniffing the air as he caught the scent of something and followed it back to Coyote. "...he kinda smells like you?"

"Me?" Coyote cocked his head at Grimmjow, frowning.

"Yeah, like you but... bigger." Grimmjow glared.

"But Starrk's Six Four easy, and Tousen is like... what, five three?" Nakeem groaned.

"I'm just reporting the vibes." Grimmjow shrugged. "So. What's like a Coyote but Bigger?" he asked the Primera Espada, who had somehow reacquired the bag of Jerky.

Coyote stopped chewing, frowning at the question. "Hm. Bad." he eventually decided, handing the empty bag back to Grimmjow.

"Whaddya mean 'Bad'?" Grimmjow growled, back arching

"Protip kittycat-" Coyote grinned down at him, "-your orders and the world in general will make a whole lot more sense if you actually read all the briefings that get handed out at meetings."

"WHADDER YA TALKIN' ABOUT? YOU WANNA GO, PUPPY?" Grimmjow shouted, swinging his fist, but all it met was the empty air where Coyote had been a fraction of a second before.

"You can lead a cat to water but you can't make it think! Read the damn briefings!" Coyote called from three buildings away before vanishing in a burst of Sondido again.

There was a moment of frustrated silence between the beasts. There was no catching up to Starrk's Sondido, and worse-

"...Do any of us actually know how to read?" Yylfordt wondered.

"I just look at the pictures." Edrad admitted. "Speaking of Preds, did you know one of the shinigami captains is a Big Dog?"

"What? Like his Resurrection or Bankai or whatever is a dog?" D-Roy pondered.

"No I think it's his regular body, but he's not a hollow. It's really fuckin' wierd." Edrad shugged. "I wonder what his whole deal is?"

"Who fuckin' cares?" Grimmjow rolled his eyes and returned to the group, flopping down on the floor. "-What's Starrk's deal? I know he's another pred but fuck me if I know what a 'Coyote' is."

"Huh. I dunno either." Nakeem pondered, opening a bag of corn chips.

"It is a Mystery." Shawlong agreed, nodding sagaciously. "Pass me the doritos."

AEIWAM Question: What do the various Espada Think of Tousen? Follow-up question, will they, the bunch of dumbasses that they are (because Aizen made them for loyalty, not thinking), declare him their unquestioned leader once Aizen, Gin and Urloquia fork off to see the cosmic taffy pull (also presuming that Barrigan winds up face down in a ditch per canon)?

Bless you for asking this, I needed something to chew on. I'm going to answer these one at a time because the post would be insanely long, and how the thought of him Before the Battle of Karakura Probably:

---

Aaroniero and Arruruerie are SURE they've met before, and that they owes the man a debt of gratitude.

It's possible, they suppose. They have consumed and absorbed the memories of so many hollows that maybe they remember the face from a hollow he killed.

At least, that's what they hope is going on.

But they have Nightmares. Not of being pursued by Shinigami but of being the Shinigami in hot pursuit. Dreams of walking through a city, surrounded by humans that adore them. Names and Faces- Rukia and her dipshit older brother, Jushiro with the nice couch they sometimes pass out on after long nights- if Jushiro's husband wasn't already there. ...Memories, of meeting each other, and falling in love. How it felt as natural to look up to her as it was to gaze at the moon. How waking up to him felt as natural as the dawn. Memories of being married by Captain Ukitake, after Tousen had done them the inexplicable favor of organizing the whole party and acquiring wedding rings. He loves organizing things for people. Ukitake had smiled. Especially weddings. I just hope it's not guilt from the one he didn't get to. His husband had frowned.

That's impossible, of course. They know who they are, how they arose from the vile muck in the shadowy pits of Hueco Mundo. They never stood in the sun one late afternoon, to marry, not with how it burns.

...and yet.

There's no harm in being polite, right? They don't mind locking Glottineria in it's scabbard with an audible click when he comes into the room, to affirm lack of hostilities. Or giving him the cup of tea Aizen gives everyone at his insufferable meetings afterwards- it's not like they can drink it! ...And if sometimes, when they've been working late in the lab studying the effects and causes of Hollowfication, when Tousen gets tired and starts to call them "Kaien" and "Miyako"-

-Well, what's the harm in answering in the voices he expects to hear?

[oiblackestsheep]

Letters to MBTI: ISTJ

Dear ISTJs,

Unfairly pigeonholed as boring and uninspired because some statistics say that you make up a large proportion of the population is as ludicrous as it is unjust. I have two important points to make on this topic for food for thought, and I'll even put them in a list format, just for you ❤️

You just might be one of the most methodical, independent, and efficient types out there - and problem solving can be just as creative, if not moreso than traditional creative outlets like art. Afterall, problem solving is driven by the presence of limitations, and limitation breeds creativity because it becomes a necessity.

The next time someone tries to tear you down for being a "common" type, kindly remind them that perhaps the reason there are so many more ISTJs is because it is simply essential to have more ISTJs to keep our society up and running than whatever type they are. (Is that the healthiest/most productive way to go about it? Maybe not, so use at your own risk, but in my honest opinion, some people just might need a little humbling to grow.)

If I need someone that I can trust to provide responsible support for really any given task, I pick you, ISTJ. I know you will guarantee the exact results that I ask you for, as long as I provide you with clear direction and briefing beforehand; I appreciate your willingness to help, and also your collaborative nature that prompts you to ask questions and seek clarification when you need it.

You don't show it much, but when you are in a healthy headspace, your forever-steady moral compass helps to guide and support your actions in the most honorable and respectable ways. You find ways to show how much you care and empathize with others through your highly logical and methodical actions (ie your acts of service that take practical care of others speak volumes to those around you).

Similarly, your Ne doesn't get much time in the spotlight, but when it does, I can't find any other way to describe it other than adorable. I personally think that every ISTJ has an untapped inner world of fun, half-baked ideas (in classic Ne fashion) that they will humor during their private alone time or in the presence of their most trusted friends and family. I get the feeling that they are just slightly shy about their "weird" ideas and that only makes me want to encourage you to explore them (perferably outloud and with me lmao) all that much more!

Maybe slightly selfishly of me, I have always enjoyed ISTJs, and your ISFJ cousins because I've always felt that you make a good audience for my own outlandish Ne ideas; not to mention how deeply connect my Ne and my desire to make others laugh are. You inferior Ne users always seem to find my high-Ne shenanigans entertaining, and that is such an incredibly rewarding experience for me because I love making other people happy! For how are you guys work, I think that you're some of the most worthy of a break and a laugh after all!

All around, you embody a very welcome blend of foreign traits that keep me on my toes and force me to think differently, and familiar traits that allow me to feel at ease and understood, all the same.

Never change, ISTJs, you hold more value than any of us really know.

[desire-mona]

i think im a lesbian

[amethystina]

Sorry for the follow up ask, but I was wondering what you would think would happen when Ga On finds out Yo Han is alive for sure. It would probably be emotional of course, but would Yo Han even want Ga On's help knowing this situation is dangerous? Would Ga On let that stop him, if not for himself then for Elijah, or because he would have to do not-so-great things to be able to help Yo Han? And on that note, would he tell Elijah? Because Yo Han definitely wouldn't want him to, underestimating how much Elijah cares about him and not wanting to put her in danger or further rock the boat of her proverbial mental state. Even if Ga On agrees to keep it a secret, could he manage it or would it slip out in his unnatural happiness and excitement? And when (or if) the situation settles and Ga On realizes Yo Han can't stay in Korea as a dead/wanted man, would he leave with them? Or would he stay as Soo Hyun's friend (because he probably doesn't have a lot of other connections in this situation), especially after all the favours he's asked of her for Yo Han to even get the chance of leaving Korea?

Because I really want her to be more developed as an individual and think she has a lot of potential, would Soo Hyun grow as a cop and a person after having to reckon with all the corruption she probably is exposed to and reality-checked on through Ga On as they navigate this new mystery? How would that change her life plan or how she sees herself in respect to justice, morality, and her ability to do good? Like how she may realize that she hadn't actually helped some of the people she thought she had when her position as a cop forcibly aligned her with a corrupt system, and her involvement typically stopped at an arrest.

Your response inspired me so much that I immediately had to get these thoughts out, though of course feel free not to response to all or even any of them.

The way you understand and explore these characters is really amazing, and I love how you interact with ideas and possible situations in ways I never could have imagined.

No worries! I totally understand getting lost in a story and its possibilities — just look at the monster also known as Who Holds the Devil x'D

For context, here's the first ask.

I think that Ga On would immediately want to help Yo Han once he finds out that he's alive for real — regardless if Yo Han wants him to or not — and Ga On wouldn't tell Elijah about it. Which would be difficult for him to keep from her, no doubt, but he'd stick to it with incredible dedication and stubbornness because a) he knows that's what Yo Han would want, b) it spares Elijah the agony of worrying (even if thinking Yo Han is dead is of course painful, too, but, like you say — her mental state is already fragile), and c) gives him more room to do what's necessary.

Like, sure, Elijah might be able to help, but Ga On would have to fend off her questions and focus on keeping her safe half of the time, since she'd want to rush in and help Yo Han, too. So while it's a bit cruel — and Elijah is going to be very angry when she eventually finds out — Ga On would do it without regrets. Because just like he made the choice to lie to Elijah about the fire, he does it because he thinks it's what's best for her. And, to some degree, I think I'd agree with him? It's cruel to keep her in the dark, yes, but it's definitely easier to just approach her after Yo Han has been saved and spare her days, weeks, and/or months of agony.

As for what Ga On would do once it's all over, I think that depends a little on how it's resolved? And what the situation was, exactly. But I think he'd lean towards going with Yo Han and Elijah, at least on a sort of "I'm just going to stay with them for a couple of weeks and make sure they get settled properly." So it might not be permanent — or at least not intended to be permanent — but he'd probably end up staying a lot longer than he says he will x'D

Which would make him feel guilty considering that he left Soo Hyun behind. But, in many ways, I think they would need that distance? Because, considering the turn their relationship is going to take, they'll both need some time to figure out who they are without the other.

Which brings me to a thing I realise I forgot to mention in the other ask, which is that I think this should be a story told from Soo Hyun's perspective. Because I agree that she deserves the development the drama deprived her of (simply because they knew she was going to die, it feels like) and that's most easily achieved from her POV. If the story was told by her, it would be easier to follow her growth as she works through her feelings and the conflicts that begin to arise when she's faced with how willfully blind she's been.

So she'd start out pretty similar to how she is in the drama but, slowly but surely, she won't be able to hold on to that any longer. Partly because she, too, has to try and deal with Professor Min's betrayal and her own feelings regarding the state of their country and the corruptiong within it. And, on top of that, Ga On telling her that she's wrong about him. And, for once, she can tell that he means it. It's not just him being stupid and self-critical — he's being honest when he tells her that he's not as good and perfect as she wants him to be. He can't be that. He's tried for years but the only thing that achieved was making him feel suffocated.

Which is definitely going to be difficult for her to hear. But it's also not one-sided — they will also have to deal with the fact that Ga On did the same to her, putting her on a pedestal and turning her into the end-all-be-all of his entire existence. And she wasn't equipped to handle that without putting too much pressure on herself. She gave up everything for Ga On at the detriment of her own happiness.

(And I guess one can question if Ga On isn't just replacing Yo Han with Soo Hyun in that regard, considering how much he fixates on Yo Han. But I'd argue that Mr. Abyss is much better at handling that kind of pressure because he has no shame whatsoever — if Ga On wants Yo Han to become the centre of his universe, he'll happily oblige. And while Yo Han will also wonder if he's good enough for Ga On, he wouldn't feel guilty about it the way Soo Hyun does. Yo Han is too honest. He'd try to be as good as he can be, sure, but also warn Ga On not to feel disappointed if Yo Han doesn't follow his expectations. And then it's up to Ga On to decide if he still wants to stay, as opposed to Soo Hyun who just kept trying to do better and kept giving more and more of herself, hoping to make up for her "shortcomings." This is one of the reasons why I think Yo Han is a more well-balanced partner for Ga On)

But I digress.

Soo Hyun's development would be put to the test when the time comes for her to say goodbye to Ga On. Again, not permanently, but by that point she must know why Ga On wants to go with Yo Han and Elijah rather than stay with Soo Hyun, and she has to let him. Whether or not she's fallen out of love with Ga On depends a little on how long the whole story takes, I'd say, but, regardless, it would be hard for her.

But I also think she'd do it — for Ga On's sake, if nothing else.

Because, hopefully, by then Soo Hyun would realise what I mentioned earlier, that they both need time away from each other to deal with all the new revelations. Not just in terms of their relationship, but also the state of their country. And while Ga On wants to deal with it by leaving and, hopefully, come back refreshed and try to make a difference, Soo Hyun would choose to stay and work through her feelings of guilt and helplessness one case at a time. She knows the system is corrupt but she can do better. She can still try to make a change, be it by helping one person at a time.

Because, deep down, both Soo Hyun and Ga On have such a strong desire to help people that I can't see Soo Hyun ever giving up on being a cop. She'd have to recalibrate and figure out how to go about things in a more constructive, productive way, but she'd get there, I think. If nothing else because she has her chief who used to work with Yo Han and, I mean, once Ga On comes back? And has Yo Han on speed dial?

They'll figure something out, I'm sure.

And while Soo Hyun might still be determined to stick to the law as often as possible, I think she, too, can eventually start bending it a little when necessary. Because in a dystopian world such as theirs, you can't really expect the law to work. Some rules must be broken.

Though murder would be a hard no, of course.

(Also, not going to lie, I'm cackling at the thought of all of them joining forces at the end like a mismatched little Scooby Gang. Imagine the possibilities. Soo Hyun and Yo Han would barely tolerate each other — because old habits die hard — but they'd try to work around it for Ga On's sake. Because Ga On is determined to save the world and neither of them can say no to him so what else can they do? They're stuck with each other.

And, eventually, they'll grow to respect each other and maybe even like each other a little but they would never admit it because they have a dynamic and an established jargon at that point and they're going to stick to it. There are traditions to uphold.

Ga On thinks they're idiots but lets them be, very pleased that they're finally getting along. Sort of.)

So yeah!

I think the focus of a story like this should be Soo Hyun. Especially since it would add a bit of mystery as she's trying to figure out why Ga On is so obsessed with Yo Han. Like, how long can she stay in denial, trying to write it off as loyalty to a former boss? And what will she do when she can no longer quiet that insistent voice telling her that Ga On's feelings for Yo Han might be deeper than she's allowed herself to believe?

Like, she can see the look on Ga On's face when he talks about Yo Han and she doesn't recognise it. And she's not sure if she wants to know what it means. But, eventually, it becomes too obvious for her to keep lying to herself. And then the next question arises: does Ga On realise that he's in love with Yo Han?

I think it would be fascinating to watch her try to navigate that.

Anyhow! I'm glad I can be of service! I tend to approach ideas in a very instinctive way, much like I do my writing. Very often, it just feels like I'm walking down an already paved path somehow, rather than building it as a I go (which is what it's like for some people, from what I gather). It's a little difficult to explain, but there's usually very little thinking required? I just... say what seems reasonable x'D

As always, my thoughts and interpretations are just my opinion, though. I try my best to give an accurate portrayal of the characters, but everything is subjective. It's okay to disagree with me, is what I'm saying. While I try my best to stay true to the characters, I can still be wrong. Or change my mind. So just... keep that in mind, I guess?

Thank you for sharing your ideas and please take care! 💜

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

I never needed charms or anything.

I don't need to carry books of spells and diagrams. I don't need shit except myself.

How can this be a practitioner could ask me.

Well, I have openly challenged every piece of shit on Earth if they want to have a go and any who challenged me are no longer available to quarrel with my word.

[gonzodangerfeels]

I usually just squeeze the carotid a little bit letting you continue to breath

If I am in a mood I might restrict breathing too though.

[nothingnowherenow]

when I was 12 years old telling my caregivers (abusers) that I literally feel like I don't exist and they thought I was just getting really into existentialist philosophy 😭

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 18: Drunk Confession

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“You said you weren’t drinking tonight,” Chan says with a smile, his eyes half-lidded, as he lies back on the rug, his hands folded over his broad chest.

“You said you weren’t, either,” you retort, chuckling lightly, as you lie parallel beside him, too.

“Then I guess we both can’t keep our promises.”

A silence fills the room as the fireplace crackles in front of you both, the warmth wafting through the room and draping over your languid bodies. It’s not often you get drunk with your best friend like this, but on a Friday night when it’s pouring outside, it’s easy to get carried away after just a few sips of wine.

“I need to go home,” you say finally, though you make no effort to rise from your spot on the rug.

“In the rain?” Chan muses, chuckling lightly. “Yeah, right. As if I’d let you drive home like this.”

“Then I’ll call a cab.”

“Just sleep here. The fire’s already on, and it’s late.”

He keeps his eyes shut, a small smile on his face still, as another silence overtakes you both.

Chan’s chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, his tipsy state failing to coax a proper sentence out of him. And then he begins to say something, swiftly cut off by your interjecting speech.

“Maybe I’ll just call Changbin,” you say finally. You ponder briefly what your friends with benefits arrangement is up to tonight- probably out at a club, or at some raging house party. But realistically, never busy enough for a quick fuck.

“Why?” Chan queries, opening his eyes to glance at your lying figure now. You don’t meet his gaze, keeping your hands crossed over your chest still, as you stare at the ceiling.

“He asked me to call him. Said he wanted to catch up.”

“Yeah, or just wants a quick fuck,” Chan states boldly. “He’s not really the listening type.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at the way Chan speaks of his friend, sitting up to meet his gaze at last.

“He’s a great listener, actually. And you know that, being his best friend and all.”

“My bad,” he scoffs. “He’s probably real good when his dick’s inside you.”

He looks visibly bothered now, one hand toying with a loose thread on the rug, as he averts your gaze entirely. He bites his tongue from saying more, though he’s also pleased at the prospect of finally saying what he’s always wanted to.

“What- why would you say that? What’s gotten into you?”

“He uses you for sex, and he doesn’t give a shit about you. Don’t call him.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Stay here.”

“I’m not really keen on staying here considering you’re being a total jerk. I’m heading out, I’ll catch you later.”

Chan sits up fully now, feeling sobered up at the thought of you leaving when you’re already this angry with him.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, his eyebrows arching up in desperation. “I’m sorry. I’m just drunk. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid.”

“Why would you even say that?” You ask, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “You’re never this mean when you’re drunk. Changbin does care about me.”

“Yeah, and so do I,” he protests.

“Well you sure don’t act like it.”

“Maybe I’m just trying not to make things so painfully obvious.”

“Make what obvious?”

“That I like you,” Chan says finally, exhaling frustratedly. He shakes his head, immediately regretting the words as they escape his lips, and then he shrugs when he catches your gaze again.

“Happy?” He questions. “I like you. And that’s why I can’t stand that you’re fucking my best friend these days. That’s why I wanted you to stay. But it’s no use when you’re this oblivious. Leave if you want to, I don’t care anymore. Just don’t make me spell it out again.”

Chan crosses his arms over his knees, pulling them in against his chest, as he keeps his gaze on the fireplace. He watches as the flames rise up to emit little sparks from their light, crackling amidst the deafening silence between the two of you. Your gaze falls to the fire, too, observing the way it seems to burn much brighter than it had before. And then you take a sharp breath, before speaking again.

“You like me?”

Chan scoffs.

“Yeah, I just told you. And all you ever do is talk about Changbin, and how he-”

“You’re drunk,” you tell him. Chan chuckles lightly at your statement, nodding in the direction of his glass of wine.

“I’m a little drunk,” he says. “But also more sober than I was an hour ago. And my feelings were the same then, and they’re the same now. They’ve been the same for five years now.”

You finally turn to look at him, admiring the strands of hair that hang loosely in his face, as he keeps his head hung in shame.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And risk being embarrassed? I’d take the repressed feelings over that any day.”

He stares back into the fire, shrugging casually. “Though I guess it’s a little late for that now.”

“It’s not late,” you say quickly, your lips pulling into a smile. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, because I like you, too. And I thought… maybe the feelings would lessen, if I put myself out there more.”

Chan finally turns to look at you, a shocked expression on his face, as he makes sense of your words.

“You… do?”

“I did,” you correct him. His shoulders slouch visibly, and he nods in understanding.

“But the feelings were the same when I was with Changbin, and they’re the same now. And they’ve been the same for several years now.”

Chan smiles now, letting out a nervous laugh, and then his expression softens.

“What now?” He asks. The fireplace glows upon his chiseled face, glimmering in his dark pupils, as he awaits a response. You take notice of the way a flustered blush creeps upon his cheeks, and you’re not certain you’ve ever seen him so shy before.

It’s not a question that prompts a reply from you, as you scoot a little closer to him, and opt to kiss him instead. Chan is taken aback by the action, momentarily forgetting to shut his eyes when you finally press your lips to his. But when he finally does, his hands unclasp from around his knees, shifting his body closer to you as he reciprocates with eager passion, a clear indication of how badly he’s wanted this.

A gasp escapes from your lips when Chan reaches forward to shrug your sweater off your body and onto the rug below you, his hands now snaking their way to your waist and pulling you onto his lap. He caresses the small of your back in circular motions as he resumes kissing you, his actions quickly turning more desperate when you snake your hands underneath his t-shirt to graze over his chiseled abs. Chan can feel his stomach tense at the contact, growing hard when you shift lower to touch just above the waistband of his jeans, and then he overtakes you with his muscular build, pushing you back to the floor as he hovers over you, his kisses working down to your neck and jawline. It’s an unspoken, yet mutual agreement that’s about to unfold between the two of you- and by the way your body shivers underneath his touch, you’re certain that you’ve wanted this a long time, too.

“Is this okay?” Chan asks when he pulls away momentarily to gauge your reaction. You nod eagerly, and Chan proceeds to cross his arms over his torso to pull his t-shirt off over his head, discarding it beside him and meeting your lips once more. His kisses grow hungrier, needier, as you arch up into him, and then you pull your own shirt off over your head, parting from him momentarily to discard it along with his.

Chan wastes no time burying his face into the crook of your neck, taking your flesh between his teeth to leave a generous trail of bruises. He makes them dark enough so that Changbin will be sure to see them- and so that he’ll have some way of knowing this isn’t just a dream when it’s all over.

“Chan,” you breathe out, tangling your fingers in his hair as he resumes leaving hickies.

“Yes, baby,” he responds, and your heart skips a beat at the utterance of a pet name.

“Go slow,” you then ask, and he pauses to meet your gaze. “I want it to last.”

Chan chuckles at your request, tugging his pants down in tandem with his boxers, as he finally frees his throbbing erection. You undress your lower half, too, snaking your panties down and allowing them to pool around your ankles, and then he grips the base of his cock, holding it steadily against you, as he comes down to kiss you once more.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to go slow with you,” he says with a smile. “But we can go as many times as you’d like.”

When he finishes speaking, he glances down at where his tip rests against your wetness, positioning himself before steadying himself with one hand on the floor beside you.

“Ready?” He asks. And when you nod, taking your lower lip between your teeth as he finally slides in, you let out an involuntary moan when he’s finally inside you.

He’s bigger than you’d expected, and more vocal, a series of grunts escaping his lips as he pushes himself inside of you. He starts off at a slow pace like you’d asked, pulling himself away from you to then rut his hips against yours, as he indulges you in a sweet kiss. But he’s quickly overtaken with pleasure, intoxicated in the sensation of your pussy taking him with complete ease.

“Fucking hell,” Chan remarks, slowing his pace to graze his lips over yours. He doesn’t kiss you, simply letting his mouth hang agape over yours, heavy breaths swirling against yours with every thrust.

As he thrusts into you a little slower now, his hands find your bra, skillfully unclasping it with one hand and allowing it to fall limply at your sides.

He smirks when he catches sight of your nipples completely erect for him, your breasts bouncing gracefully with every push of his hips. His lips trail down to your throat, tracing the goosebumps along your flesh with the flicker of his tongue. And then he lowers his head to your left breast, taking your mound in his mouth, as his lips come to a point around your nipple. Chan’s tongue swirls around your breast as he fucks you, his hands coming around the small of your back to arch your figure further up into him. And you gasp in pleasure at the sensation, your eyebrows arching up in pleasure much like the rest of your delicate figure, as he quickens his pace again. He doesn’t cease producing a symphony of satisfied groans, throbbing inside of you with every clench of your cunt around him.

“Changbin can’t fuck you like this,” Chan states, earning a groan from you.

“You’re still jealous,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I prefer possessive,” He corrects you, picking up the pace as he grazes his lips over yours. You can still taste the faint flavor of beer on his tongue as he swirls it around yours, coming down to take your right breast in his mouth now.

“You don’t know how long I dreamt of this, baby.”

He places repeated, open-mouthed kisses along your sternum, and then he meets your lips again.

“Say I’m better than him,” he commands, before pushing into you with a particularly harsh thrust. You begin to tease him for it, but your nails dig into his flesh when he pushes into you with another harsh thrust, earning a fervent moan from you.

“Say it,” he says again, and you shut your eyes, eyebrows arching up in pleasure to trail your fingertips over his back.

“You’re better than him,” you say finally, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Yeah?” He says for the second time this evening, and you nod eagerly.

“He could never fuck me like this. I waited so long, too. For this. For you.”

It’s your words that assist Chan in reaching his release, a stifled groan emitting from the back of his throat as he pushes into you one last time to fill you with his hot load, his mouth hanging open in a blissful state of euphoria as he feels his fluids leak out of you.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow suit, legs remaining wrapped around his waist, as you clench around him rhythmically and let out a series of pornographic moans. And when Chan begins to slow his breathing, your shared fluids finding purchase on the rug beneath you, he hangs his head over yours, his lips pulling into a tired smile.

“Stay here,” he pleads, placing a series of kisses along your jawline. “Don’t call Changbin.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you tell him, smiling up at him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you.

The fireplace sets his tanned skin aglow, a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And all that can be heard are the crackles of the now-dying fire, as he trails kisses further down your chest, already anticipating a second round.

*

[mattyriddlesbitch]

please please write about theodore nott getting caught by the reader touching himself to her. then absolutely wrenching her in the his dorm. overtimulation. squirting. round after round.

This one was a lot longer than I originally planned, oops, lol.

Just One More

Theodore Nott x F!Reader

Warnings: mention of masturbation, oral(female receiving), squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie

18+ Minors DNI

You and Theodore had gotten assigned for a project together for potions and were working on it in his dorm. You had called it for the day, exhausted and ready to rest after the long school day and hours working on this project with Theo.

You weren’t extremely close with the boy, but that didn’t stop his attempts to flirt with you and joke around with you whenever he did see you. And you had to admit, you may have developed a small crush on him. He was hot and flirted with you, what else could you say?

You said ‘goodbye’ and left his dorm, heading to your own. You noticed once you got there that you had left your textbook in his dorm and figured you’d just grab it real quick.

But as you were about to knock on his door, you could hear faint noises inside. After a second of listening, you realized the noises were moans. Did he have a girl over? It was just his moans you could hear so probably not.

“Oh, (Y/N), cara mia. Fuck.” You heard coming from the other side of the door.

‘(Y/N)’ Was he really moaning your name? Holy shit.

Before you even realized it, you were knocking on the door. You could hear a quiet cuss escape his lips and some shuffling with a louder ‘Hold on’ coming from him. After a moment, the door opened, and Theo leaned against the door frame before his eyes widened when he saw it was you, quickly turning his expression into a calm one with a flirty smirk.

“Cara mia. What are you doing here? Didn’t get enough of me?” He asked as he looked you over.

“Uh, I forgot my textbook. Though, it seems like you were the one who didn’t get enough of me.” You said, giving him a sweet, innocent smile.

His smirk fell. “What are you talking about?” He shifted slightly, clearly nervous now.

“I kinda heard you. You moaned my name. I was only gone for a few minutes, it seems like you barely waited after I left to, uh, you know.” You said, tilting your head.

“How long were you outside my door, bella?” He asked.

“Long enough.” You shrugged.

He looked at you for a few seconds, like he was pondering his next move before pulling you into the room and closing the door behind you.

“Seems to me like you were enjoying listening in.” He said as he backed you up to the bed.

“Well, it was more like I was surprised, especially once I heard my name.” Your legs hit the bed and you fell on it.

“So you didn’t like it?” He leaned down, putting his arms on either side of you to trap you on the bed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“If you wanted, I could show you more of those sounds now.” He lowered his head to your ear as he spoke quietly. “I could show you what I was thinking about doing to you that was making me moan like that.”

“Very tempting.” You said back just as quietly as him. “How should we start?”

“How about we start by getting these clothes off?” He said as he leaned back and helped you out of your clothes, a bit quickly and desperately. “Fucking hell, principessa. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He said before leaning back down to pepper kisses along your neck, trailing up before connecting your lips. The kiss was heated and hasty, like he couldn’t get enough. He nestled between your legs, his hands roaming along your skin, feeling everywhere. One hand traveled lower until he made it to your folds, groaning into the kiss when he felt how wet you were. He teased your entrance, enjoying the whine from your throat as he started pushing two fingers in you, swallowing your moans once he started thrusting them in and out of you.

He parted from your lips and went back to your neck, kissing and licking his way down to your chest before giving your nipples some attention. Your moans were loud now that you weren’t being muffled by his lips, your back arching into his mouth as he licked and sucked at one of your nipples before giving the other the same attention.

“Fuck, Theo!” You moaned. Your hands were gripping at the sheets, the neat fabric getting wrinkled in your grasp.

Theo moaned against your nipple in response, flicking his eyes up to your face to watch your reaction. He used his thumb to find your clit, rubbing circles on it as your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. It didn’t take much before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and have your body trembling.

He moved his body to bring his mouth onto your clit, his fingers never stopping inside you. The pleasure was starting to get overwhelming as you wrapped your fingers in his hair, cries and gasps leaving your mouth as he licked and sucked at your clit.

“Theo, please! ‘S Too much!” You whined, trying to pull away from him. His free hand stopped you, wrapping around your hips to keep you in place. “Shit! Oh my fuck!” You cried out from the overstimulation, the pleasure on the brink of being pain.

He wasn’t stopping, forcing another orgasm out of you as you cried and clawed at his scalp, which only made him hiss. He kept going, though. Any hopes of him slowing down or stopping were gone, all you could do was plead and cry. He worked you to another orgasm, this one nearly making you black out as it hit you.

“Fucking hell, cara mia. That was perfect. I need you to do that again for me.” He said and you raised your head to look at him, noticing the drenched sheets beneath you.

“What?” You asked, still dazed.

“I made you squirt. And you’re gonna do that again for me.” He smiled before leaning back down to lick at your clit again.

You whimpered and clung to his hair again, body fighting on if it wanted more or less from him. His arm around you wouldn’t let you decide anyways since it kept you from squirming further or closer to him. He easily brought you to another orgasm like he already knew your body. He helped you through it, not even minding that you soaked him again in your cum.

He finally let you go, standing up to push down his pants and chuck off his shirt before settling back between your legs, bringing them over his shoulders as he started easing his cock into you. You and him moaned together as he bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust before beginning to thrust. “You take me so well, cara mia. Holy shit. You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Your mind was already blank from all the previous orgasms, no way you could respond other than with the moans and whimpers that left your mouth from how sensitive you were.

“Just one more for me, bella. Cum on my cock for me and we’ll be done. I just need it. I need to feel it.” He rambled, his hips pounding into yours, desperately trying to get both of you to cum.

With how sensitive you were, your orgasm came quickly, clenching his cock and sobbing. He praised you, wiping your tears as he helped ride out your orgasm.

“Sorry, principessa. Just one more. Please, just one more. I promise that’s it.” He said as he kept slamming into you, overworking your cunt.

“I can’t-I can’t, Theo! I can’t!” You cried.

“Just one more. I promise. Just give me one more. Fuck, you felt so good cumming around me, I just need to feel it one more time.” He said, gently kissing your leg on his shoulder.

He forced you into another orgasm before he finally came, filling your pussy with his cum.

“It’s okay, cara mia. We’re all done. You did so good for me.” He rested your legs on the bed and cupped your face, pressing soft kisses on your face.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five

“Called?”

“Errr…well.” Steve goes over to where Eddie is sitting on the kitchen floor, and opens the cupboard door, “this part,” Steve swings the door forwards and back, “door,” he closes the cupboard, “cupboard.”

Eddie seems to ponder this before moving across the kitchen and opening the fridge, “door?”

“Yeah, but that,” Steve points, “is the fridge.”

“Idge.”

“Yeah.”

“Idge door,” Eddie swings the door a little to demonstrate.

“You got it.”

Eddie pulls a pear out of the bottom of the fridge, “called?”

“Pear.”

“Pearrrr.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie nods.

“Called?”

“Chair.”

Eddie nods, then points to the couch, “chair?”

“Kinda’, but it’s actually called a couch,” Eddie cocks his head, and Steve knows he’s said too many words, so he points to the couch and says, “couch.”

“Couch.” Eddie nods. “Stee. Eddidie. Couch. TV. Pear.”

“Yeah, sure, we can definitely do that later.” Eddie cocks his head, “uhm. Stee finished for little bit,” Steve brings his hands together to try and indicate a short amount of time. Eddie frowns at him, “Stee go out.” And Steve points to the front door of the house.

Eddie nods, heading into the dining room to look out of the window onto the front drive, pointing, “called?”

“Car.”

“Stee Eddidie car?”

“No. Stee later- oh shit, now you’ve got me doing it. Steve later.”

Eddie moves back through the house, Steve following curiously, watching as Eddie goes into the fridge and pulls out a beer, showing Steve, “lat-er?”

“Yeah! Yeah that’s right buddy, you got it.”

Eddie smiles big, showing off his only slightly pointy teeth.

“He’s a prick Rob, I need to you bat your lashes at him and get us both on the same shifts. Have you seen his stupid duty rosta thing? You’re all on opens, with him, and I’m all on closes with that pizza faced waste of space-!”

“Yeah, I saw, it’s shit, I’ll see what I can do.”

Steve had come into the front door just as Eddie had come in the back, Steve can only assume he’d heard the beemer pull up, and now he’s waiting patiently while Steve talks to Robin on the phone.

“Be kind, rewind.”

“Christ, he said it about forty thousand times, like he came up with it himself.”

“I know! That’s what I thought,” Eddie’s tugging gently on Steve’s shirt, “hang on Eddie’s here, what is it buddy?”

Eddie points at the phone receiver in Steve’s hand, “called?”

“Oh, it’s a phone.”

“One,” Eddie says, but he’s frowning and shaking his head, he leans up to tap the plastic, “called?”

“Oh, do you mean...it’s Robin. Birdie. I’m talking to Birdie, you want to say hi?”

“Hi Birdidie.”

“No, here,” and Steve hands Eddie the receiver.

He takes it carefully, gingerly putting it to his ear, “hi Birdidie.”

Steve can’t hear what Robin says, but Eddie frowns and then carefully volunteers, ��beer later,” another brief pause before Eddie says, “Stee good,” and then Steve almost startles when Eddie says “bye bye Birdidie,” and hands back the phone.

“Robs did you just say ‘bye bye’ to him?”

“No, he did it himself, why is that new?”

“Yeah, no idea where he got that from, unless the TV maybe...hey, Eddie, you been watching TV?”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie couch pear TV.”

Steve snorts, “you stuck to your plan without me then, huh?”

In his ear, Robin says, “he’s picking all this up real fast Steve, you’re doing a great job, I think.”

“Thanks. Hopefully soon he will get to the point where he can like...tell us things.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Uhm...no good. Bad.”

Eddie tilts his head, “work bad,” he says with absolute certainty, making Steve laugh.

“You don’t like me going to work?”

“Stee inied bad.”

“Awwww buddy, that’s sweet.”

“Sweet.”

“Okay, so this is a walkie talkie.”

“Alkie talkie.”

“Yeah, and it’s like the phone, so you press this button,” Steve demonstrates, startling Eddie when static blasts from the other walkie he has. “Here, you have this one, remember, press the button,” Eddie takes it, holding it to his chest as he sits in his tent, “right, stay.”

Steve jogs into the house, closing the door behind him and going out of sight, pressing the button, “hello Eddie,” he hopes Eddie picks this up pretty quickly, since he’s mastered the buttons for the TV just fine.

There’s a long pause, long enough that Steve thinks he’s going to have to go outside and show Eddie again, then there’s a cautious, “Stee?” And then it goes quiet, so Eddie let go of the button, which is great considering Steve didn’t even tell him that part.

“Hi buddy. You good?”

“Eddidie good. Stee good?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“Beer later?”

Steve laughs, muttering ‘I’ve created an alcoholic,’ to himself as he heads back outside, satisfied Eddie knows how to use the walkie. That was way easier than Steve thought it would be.

“Called?” Eddie pokes Steve in the face. His nails aren’t sharp exactly, but they are kinda pointed. Plus they must be like, super strong.

“Ow,” Steve says, but its more reflexive than anything, and then rubs his face, “come on man, you know my name.”

Eddie scowls, but does say, “sorry.” It’s not long before he comes back, poking Steve again, “called?” he demands, poking Steve yet again in the side of his neck.

Steve flaps at him, “hey. Personal space. And they’re moles. Moles. Leave them alone.”

“Mollleeees?” Eddie queeries.

“Yeah. Moles. Like...they’re just there. It’s fine.”

“Moles.” Eddie replies, deadpan, looking at Steve like he’s absolutely full of shit.

Steve nods again, “uh hu, moles.”

Eddie sits for a minute before he slithers off, going half into his tent before he comes back. He moves a little awkwardly, one hand being occupied with carrying his book, but he manages to bring it to Steve where he’s sitting on a pool chair.

He lays the book out on the chair next door, flicking confidently through it’s now well worn pages until he finds the one he wants, he turns it, holding it up to show Steve with a very accusatory look on his face, “moles!”

He says it with the same tone you’d call someone a liar.

He’s showing Steve the page of The Eastern Mole. He’s presenting it like he’s just won an argument.

Steve sighs, “oh boy,” because he does clearly remember reading that page to Eddie.

Steve lies on the living room floor, Eddie lying nearby. Eddie can hold a pencil fine, even if his grip is a little odd because of the webbing between his fingers. So far Steve’s written out the alphabet, numbers one to ten, the days of the week, the months, and Eddie’s own name.

Eddie’s been copying them all dutifully, line after line, and he is kind of getting it. His handwriting is picking up fast at least.

“I’ll get more paper next time I go out. Some proper stuff with lines on.”

Eddie’s frowning at what he’s doing, a look of great concentration on his face, eyebrows drawn together into a frown, tip of his tongue poking absently between his teeth. They’ve been inside long enough that his hair has completely dried; it goes all bouncy and curly when it’s completely dry, but it’s still completely black.

“Eddidie go out?”

“No buddy, you stay.”

“Stay?”

“Yeah, it’s safe here.”

Eddie hums, carefully writing his own name.

Eddie had watched curiously as Steve and Robin had moved all the furniture, but hadn’t investigated. He’s lying on the grass, copying whatever takes his fancy from his book and into one of his lined notepads.

His tail is half curled in the air, the tip flapping back and forth, like Eddie has his knees bent.

“He’s definitely put on weight, it’s really noticeable to me now.”

“Yeah, I think so too, but I see him all the time so it’s probably more obvious to you.”

The kids wanted to do a little get together today, maybe get the grill out. Steve backed it; this is probably one of the last nice days they’re going to have this year. If they don't come up with a plan sometime soon, Eddie might find himself wintering in Steve’s bathtub.

They decided to move the furniture away from the pool so they didn’t stress Eddie out, and they’re far enough away that, when the first kids arrive, Eddie does sit up, but doesn’t immediately move towards the water, which is a win.

“Just play it cool okay, ignore him and he might come to you. Don’t you little dipshits stress him out.”

By some miracle, the kids seem to actually listen. Steve keeps it simple, grills up a bunch of burgers and some hot dogs. The vegetable skewers that Robin made. The kids play on the lawn and generally enjoy the sunshine. Steve keeps half an eye on Eddie. He gets in the water a couple of times; mostly when the kids horsing around gets too loud for him, otherwise he seems content to lie on the grass with his book and his pencils. He's got his shades on, but his skin is so milky pale Steve worries vaguely that he should be putting sun lotion on him.

He supposes a lifetime in a place with no sun will do that to you.

It’s late afternoon when the kids settle in, finding jackets and pull overs as the dusk starts to darken the sky. They’re quiet now, tired out, they just sit and talk.

“He’s there,” Max says, nodding.

Steve turns, she’s right. Eddie’s maybe fifteen feet away.

“Don’t make a big deal,” Steve tells them. He takes a sip of his beer, and then leans back, setting the bottle on the grass. Then he makes a point of ignoring it, “just keep talking okay, don't freak him out.”

The kids are pretty shit at keeping the conversation going now there’s a distraction, and they’re all blatantly watching Eddie. Steve can hear him moving across the grass, so he dares a look; Eddie’s maybe two feet back, sipping the beer.

“Eddie?” Eddie cocks his head, not seemingly over stressed by the situation, “who is that?” And he points.

“Dust bin,” Eddie replies, confidently.

All the kids are lost to fits of sniggering giggles. All except Dustin, who looks suitably affronted.

Part Seven

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part four

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, asshole, and has mood swings.

Dedication — for @rivaiken, iykyk! <3

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy. 

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it. 

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him. 

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm. 

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber. 

★ part five ★

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[princessbrunette]

when spoiledexgf!reader ponders on her relationship with rafe, it always come down to one thing. how on earth did they end up together in the first place? her scowl upon thinking of this would often soften into a reminiscent smile in realisation. it was his attitude that drew her in.

you remember where you were— at the county club, shock horror, and you were all alone. you weren’t in the mood to socialise that day, after one hundred things had already pissed you off you were simply there to pick up some lunch and head on home.

you frequented there, so you knew all the faces. even guys like rafe cameron, who would always stare or have something to say like you didn’t know all his tricks already. yes he was fine, but he was going to have to work a lot harder if he wanted to actually stand out.

you totter through the club in glittery sandals headed straight through to the bar where you could order your food and drink to go. you do so, and stay there whilst you wait for the order to be prepared. you’re actually lost in thought, tapping your nails on the plastic menu on the counter before you feel a big looming presence at your side.

rafe cameron leans on the counter top, already that smug little smile on his face. the one that made him look all smarmy and expensive. he’s nursing a whiskey in his hand despite the time being only along the lines of 4PM — and you move along slightly, clearing your throat. now he’s just blatantly staring at you.

rolling your eyes, you feel your lashes kiss your brows as you turn to face him. “can i help you?”

his mouth turns down in amusement as he holds his hands up defensively. “nah, just here to talk. is that… is that not okay?” he plays it off like a nice guy, but you know how fucking crazy he is. you’ve heard the tales. the future version of yourself bangs on the glass wall of the memory, begging you to just walk away.

you say nothing, turning to face the front once more. this doesn’t deter rafe from making conversation.

“y’know i uh, couldn’t help but notice how good you look today… i mean you always look fine as hell but today… mhm.” he hums, taking a sip of his whiskey and you feel him lean back just a little so he can eye you.

“thanks.” you state blankly, trying to ignore the way his special attention warmed your stomach ever so slightly. you wanted to slap yourself for being so pathetic.

“yeah… for sure.” he licks his lips before moving up alongside you to stand closer. “look, lemme get to know you, alright? i’ll take you out.” he offers.

“i have a man.” you blurt out, and it’s instantly met with a scoff that melts into a strained chuckle as he runs a hand down his face, shaking his head. oh? you blink at him. it wasn’t technically a lie. you were seeing someone, whether or not you’d call him your man was unimportant. “what?”

“nah, nothing.” he smirks, still clearly amused as the aftershock of his laugh still bubbles past his lips. “you got a man, huh? then uh, why are you here… ordering n’payin’ for your own shit?” he reaches down and gently plucks your hand off the counter, observing it. “and uh, why are your nails not done? yeah i’m not sure this guy knows what he’s doing ‘cause uh—”

you snatch your hand away, feeling your face heat as you huff. “its not your business.” you stare up at him, probably thinking you look real intimidating but those doe eyes only made you reflect the appearance of an angry little kitty-cat. you’re distracted, so when the country club worker returns with your food in its to go box, rafe maintains the eye contact with a lazy smirk, leaning over you to tap his card on the reader, paying for it.

“you’re welcome.” he states, before sliding your phone off the counter where you’d rested it and holding it out for you to take. “guess you owe me now huh? why don’t you go ahead and unlock your phone so i can put my number in there n’i’ll go ahead n’call it even. alright?” he raises his eyebrows, and you couldn’t believe it — but something about the way he was handling you made you wanna back down. submit like prey. you swallow, feeling that attitude disappearing little by little as you silently unlock your phone and hand it to him on the contact page.

he smiles, satisfied and nods before typing it in and handing it back. “text me. i’ll get you right.” he lets his lips curl up a little again, all pleased with himself as he finally steps out of your space — instantly striding off without a glance over his shoulder as he heads towards one of his friends that had just entered.

you couldn’t help your intrigue. but as the famous saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

[facefullofsadness]

when succubus!winrina are summoned

g!p demon!jiminjeong x human!reader

smut, 2k wc

happy extremely belated birthday (like can I even classify this as a bday post anymore?) to the most annoying person I know @aliceiwk because she didn't wanna tell me her bday even though I was gonna find out eventually bc I was gonna post this ANYWAY. is late as FUCK (literally an entire month PLUS late omg) bc of school, travel, other reasons wtv, but that wasn't gonna stop me!!! soooo yes mwah mwah lub u enjoy ur jiminjeong threesome!!

when yizhuo and aeri had the bright idea of doing a silly little demon summoning session for funsies, you screamed at them in horror. what the actual fuck kind of idea is that? the two girlfriends' justification was simply for shits and giggles! I mean, that shit isn't real anyway, right? there's no ACTUAL fucking shot demons would come to haunt you guys if you tried conjuring em up!

somehow, someway, yall ended up in a circle with some candles, some salt, a shady looking book, and a dark ass room. being in the actual moment sent chills down your spine, the summer nights being quite cold to accompany such a stupid idea you and your friends were going through with. when your last minute effort to back out, stop, and instead watch horror movies to get their spooky fill failed, the two girls begin flipping pages of the book.

"what aboutttt demon of gluttony?" the small girl asks, pondering which demon to summon.

"there's not a lot of things to do with that," the taller girl replies, one arm propped up behind her girlfriend, checking her nails on the other hand.

"demon of wrath?"

"we've all got enough anger combined to need that one."

"demon of sloth!"

"fuck does that even mean?"

"ooohhhh!! y/n desperately needs this one, demon of lust."

"oh, perfect!"

"hey wait what is that supposed to mean?!" you butt in.

"now now, it's okay to badly want head! we're just helping you out!"

aeri raises her hands up and reaches out to pull you into the chair placed in the middle of a pentagram surrounded in candles. you put your face in your hands, shaking your head at the reality of what was currently happening.

"now just sit tight and soon enough you'll stop complaining about your celibacy!"

performing the ritual was goofier than you expected it to be. with the accompaniment of yizhuo's unserious reading of the spell, aeri's cackle everytime her girlfriend stuttered, and forgetting to pause the music, having txt's blue hour playing in the background, it was hard to take anything seriously. having to go through with the summoning ritual twice because the first time was so botched, thinking doing it again would make sure it "worked".

unsurprisingly, nothing happened. ning was disappointed, to which aeri had to kiss away her pout, but you were relieved because what the fuck would have possibly happened if it worked? you sent the girls home after making them clean the stupid ritual up, collapsing on your mattress and passing out.

in the dead of night, two figures emerge from the shadows, the darkness of your room enveloping the strangers. you're completely asleep, your peaceful breathing and spinning ceiling fan the only white noise to mask the echoey voices across the room.

"what are you doing here?"

"I was summoned, I could ask the same question to you."

"why would I purposefully go somewhere you are?"

"it's simple, you're obsessed with me or something."

"not as obsessed as you are with me."

the shadowy figures huff in the darkness before staring back at your slumbering body.

one of them smirks and scoffs, "horny slut must've summoned both of us."

"how fascinating, I was worried it was gonna be a man again," the other figure tilts her head to the side, observing your sleeping face.

"ugh, one thing we can finally agree on, men aren't nearly as fun or tempting as women."

the being observing your face brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, "girls are just so delicious."

the two look at each other and exchange a sinister smile, almost agreeing to be civil through eye contact.

"then let's have our fun tonight yeah, winter?"

"only if you share, karina."

you were awoken to your body being thrown around, your back sinking into the mattress, wrists pinned on either side of you, eyes shooting open with a gasp, shaking you out of your sleep. foggy sight clearing and eyes adjusting to the darkness slowly as two figures come into view, women (?), or as your mind would rationalize them to be.

two shadowy women with rustic obsidian horns growing through their skulls, dark tails swaying behind them, black leather-like wings spanning out from their backs, and dark red orbs emanating aura from their eyes. you're frozen into place, your eyes doing all the talking as they observe the figures pinning you down with their talon-like claws, skimpy leather outfits hugging the pale women's milky skin.

you want to scream, thrash, do something, but all you can do is stare at them, eyes darting back and forth between the dark-haired and blonde creatures.

"awww, look at her, such an innocent little thing," the blonde coos, her voice reverberating, almost as if she had a filter over it.

the dark haired girl replies, voice heavy with reverb and seduction, "but she's not, she needed to be fucked senseless by two of us, isn't that right?"

you're speechless, mouth opening to answer but no noise escaping. no way... was this a result of that stupid summoning ritual you guys did earlier that night? it... worked? BOTH TIMES???

"can't speak, can you? do humans not understand what consequences of your actions mean? didn't your people come up with that saying?" the darker one pouts, pulling back from your face to straddle one of your legs, knee slotting itself perfectly between your thighs.

the blonde one giggles, her sinister tone sending shivers down your spine, "fuck I cannot wait to consume you, you're extremely enticing."

somehow, you speak, voice heavy with confusion, fear, and exhaustion, "what the fuck are you?"

the two exchange a sly smirk, looking at each before turning back to you, "exactly what you asked for, demons of lust."

succubus, it had clicked in your head as you further observed their features, feeling their nails digging into your skin, the pain confirming you were in fact not dreaming.

"don't worry little one, we'll give you everything you want."

the blonde demon's tail wraps around both of your wrists, the dark-haired demon releasing you from her grip, letting the other pin your hands down and back above you. the blonde settles next to your head, her crotch emanating heat in front of your face. she takes a handful of your hair and grips the back of your head, pulling your face up and lowering herself to meet you, your scalp stinging in her hold.

"be a good fucking whore and let us do what we want with you, you'll enjoy every second of it."

she pushes your cheek against her crotch, her addicting scent filling your nose, feeling her hard appendage press against your face. meanwhile, the dark-haired girl between your thighs digs her knee against your core, whimpering at the pressure, having only worn panties and a t-shirt to bed.

the taller girl's cold hands grip your exposed thighs, digging her nails into your skin, making you hiss. she trails her hands under your shirt, ghosting her fingers over your waist and dragging her claws across your stomach. her hands are greedy, moving at a moderate pace but every touch is so intense and rough, knuckles now rubbing against your soaking underwear, friction brushing against your clit.

everything happens so fast as you swear you black out every few seconds the more their touches advance on your body. before you know it, you're choking on the demon called winter, the other succubus grinding her knee against your bare pussy being karina. you moan against the blonde's cock as she thrusts mercilessly into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as tears spill from your eyes, the pleasure from the dark-haired girls needy hands on your hips forcing your body to roll against her knee with your panties pushed to the side, cunt leaking with your juices, making the movements slick, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"yeah little slut? like that big cock in your throat? can't speak huh? fucking whore," winter degrades above you, holding your head with both of her hands to control just how relentlessly she ruins your throat.

karina chuckles darkly below you, watching her pull away and lower her face to your pulsing core, "she is a whore, just look at how fucking wet this bitch is. she's practically a waterfall of cum."

through blurry, tear-filled eyes, you watch as karina's split tongue circled your hot clit, feeling its unforgiving movements dance across your aching slit as it flicks against your bud and hole simultaneously somehow. not that you question it, falling into an inevitable sub-space, your mind completely broken just as quickly as they had started fucking you.

you feel winter's member so deeply down your throat, it bulges in your neck, her rugged panting and breathing making the onslaught of your body worth it. all your noises are choked and silent however, karina's skillful mouth maneuvering your burning insides and throbbing outsides, the hums from her throat vibrating against your entire pussy. the sensation of winter's creamy cum flowing down your throat makes you roll your eyes back, not needing to swallow as her load slides down your esophagus easily.

"couldn't you be at least a little patient?" an annoyed karina pulls away from your pussy to complain, tugging your limp body up against her chest, winter's cock slipping from your swollen mouth.

the blonde's heavy breathing is accompanied by a reverberating chuckle as she responds, "don't be jealous, you get to taste the bitch's pussy, I should be the aggravated one."

the taller girl replies with a grunt, "fine, but I'm cumming in her cunt first."

"oh no, we're sharing that fucking hole," you feel the other succubus' body heat on your back, pressing her front against you, her still hard monster cock tapping against your ass.

"you are so fucking annoying," karina mumbles before pulling out her hard dick and slipping it between your folds, collecting your slick, pushing into your tight hole as you scream painfully at the intrusion.

she immediately sets an unforgiving pace, mercilessly pounding her throbbing member into your aching heat, holding you against her chest by your waist, your face in her shoulder as you sobbed in pain, the pleasure slowly creeping in. the girl behind you spits on her dick, spreading the saliva before forcing herself in you too, joining karina's relentless thrusting. tears flow from your eyes as bloodcurdling screams escape your already sore throat, the two demons' lengthy and girthy cocks tearing your tight cunt apart, drool leaking from your mouth as your brain abandons consciousness, completely broken and ruined from them fucking you.

winter pants against your ear as her hands sink into your hips, drilling you from behind, "you're gone now, aren't you doll? you've become our little cumslut to treat like a toy, haven't you?"

her words don't process in your fucked out head, nodding mindlessly to her question.

karina against you moans as your pussy squeezes around both of them, pushing in as winter pulls out, "taking us so well, little whore. that's right, be the good fucking slut you are and take it. take all of it."

they continue to absolutely annihilate your insides with their aggressive ramming, never stopping as they used your body like a sextoy, throwing you around like a ragdoll, pounding into you like you were just their property. the sound of wet skin slapping together and their loud, frustrated breathing filled your barely functioning auditory senses as you feel both of them stiffen against you, hot cum filling you, stuffing you full of their seed.

your lifeless body slumps against karina's front, winter holding you up as someone, unsure of who due to your barely conscious state, breathlessly comments against your ear, "we're far from finished, little one."

and they keep their word, not stopping the entire night, their split tongues working in tandem on each of your nipples, lapping at both of your holes as they seep pleasure, their cocks exploring every inch of your greedy orifices, letting you feel every bit of lust they harbor towards your mortal body. they fuck you until you break, until they ruin every part of you, until your begs and pleads grow silent, until time ceases to exist, the only thing in your sorry brain you can possibly process are karina and winter. and maybe when you're free, you'll thank aeri and yizhuo.

a/n: yeah their cocks probably have ridges and stuff but I didn't think about that while writing it, maybe next time <3 #welovemonstercock !!! can this even be classified as a short like this shit is long, oh whale

[stolasdearest]

is it okay if I ask for Alastor x Reader who is like angel dusts sibling and reader goes to Angel dust you talk about their lasting crush on Alastor?

Alastor x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

EVERYONE SHUT UP! YES I LOVE WINGMAN ANGEL

Not proofread + 4:30 Lilly so writing might differ

Reader is Gender neutral!

Being Angels sibling wasn't easy, at least within in the hotel..or outside of it for that matter; but in the hotel it was definitely better, at least everyone didn't try and talk to you about your brother and instead talk to you.

You however had your eyes on someone very specific, a person not many people would have their eyes on..well, Maybe your brother in a— joking fucking around type of way; but your eyes were looking at the Tall Red demon in a very different way; a fond way you weren't all that used to.

Thing is you were the youngest in your family, that didn't rid you of your family's habits and mannerisms, So you weren't surprised when you ended up in hell alongside most of your family but your brother had kept you away from many scenes, that included partners; so your new found feelings for the Demon were overwhelming, suffocatingly so and you had no idea where to go with it, that lead you to go to the only person you trust in this newly found shit hole

"Anthony?"

"what's up, sweet cheeks?"

Angel was still not used to being called by his real name, But it was allowed in private from prying ears; he set fat nuggets down and sat up on the side of the bed; patting a spot next to him gesturing you to sit with him, a familiar smile on his face while you scooted next to him

"what's on your mind?"

"Alastor."

"oh—"

Angel laughed as you covered your face with your hands, His name bluntly slipping past your lips as you cringed at yourself

"he's like the Boogeyman, don't say his name too loud or he'll appearrr"

You smacked his arm and laughed, watching Angel make "scary" gestures as you both giggled amongst one another, before you patted your thighs and dramatically inhaled and sighed

"yeah yeah.. Boy troubles aye? Been there"

"yeah so help me"

"with him, Sweetie I can pray that's it"

"Anthony!!"

"sorry sorry!!"

Your big brother kneeled over laughing as you scoffed at him, crossing your arms with a pout as you cleared Your throat

"ANYWAY, I need help, I have no idea how to approach him— if at all!"

It took the spider demon a bit to compose himself Before he ran his fingers through his hair before looking at you, a sincere genuine look on his face, his voice soft and gentle; just like you remembered

"I don't know mister cheeky Alastor that much, but he does seem to like you, so I'd say go slow; test the waters or he might rip you to shreds"

You tensed, he was right and you were playing a dangerous game trying to woo the radio demon and you knew that but what'd you have to lose?..oh right your life yeah yeah

Falling flat on the soft bed you groaned; Alastor was tricky especially for someone who'd never flirted in their life so this was uncharted territory and you weren't exactly starting on beginner mode, you skipped straight to expert. Angel soon joined you in laying on the bed, him to staring at the ceiling as you pondered and wondered, He was probably zoning out but whatever, but after moments of silence Anthony soon realized this was a heavy topic on your heart so he turned on his side, pulling you to his side; one of his hands ruffling your hair

"worry about that tomorrow will you? You need your beauty sleep; Alastor won't date a slob"

"what won't I do?"

"AAAAHHHHH"

Authors note: Sorry for the ending Im starting to get a headache😭😭

[zumiiisumsum]

Coming from a benedict fan who also anticipated his season more, im absolutely not exaggerating when I say that I’ve never felt so emotionally invested and immersed in the chemistry of a bridgerton couple other than Polin. Their relationship just feels so much more genuine and refreshing and you can feel the actors’ real affection for one another through their characters. They rlly did some voodoo shit this season bc I physically CANNOT look away

I think that this is the first season that’s become such a turning point in the show. The tone of their relationship sets them apart from other bridgerton couples because they already know each other, and have already established a deep connection with each other regardless if the other person has fully realized it as romantic or not. Colin as a leading man is much more active rather than passive about his feelings; he ponders about his connection with Penelope and acts swiftly in just 4 episodes. The tension in their relationship isn’t the typical “will they?” situation because it is clear as day that they were meant for each other. What’s anticipated is not if but how they will navigate their relationship as their true selves together (Pen as whistledown, Colin as his original self).

Not to be THAT person, but it’s also one of the first bridgerton couple (for me atleast) that I felt blurred the lines that separated the character’s chemistry and the actors’ chemistry. At one point they were giggling in the carriage scene (such a good scene btw) and it felt like I was watching blooper reels. I thought to myself, “okay, now im just watching luke and nicola”. Maybe it’s because I watched too many of their press releases lmao. (I’m not gonna ship real people i promise!!! unless…)