#there is always a god behind every big shit... so....

[orcelito]

Bro my apartment people Did send a message and I hadn't noticed it bc I was too focused on the one they sent after about the lease renewal 😭😭😭 so not only is my apartment a mess but I also was fully told they were coming. I just didn't notice it bc I have Shit Brain Disease!!! Funnily enough, it's the thing I'm supposed to be getting medication for, but! Guess I can't get it just yet!!!!!!!

[samantitaswrld]

deadpool!

….as your boyfriend.

description: deadpool as your boyfriend!

pairing: deadpool x you!

contains: 18+, mentions of sex!

|an: just saw deadpool & wolverine.. couldn’t help myself.

- awful with emotions but always finds a way to make up for things whether through humor or sex.

- speaking of humor you’re never not laughing with him, or bickering, or fucking

- you’re the only person he can actually feel vulnerable and comfortable with, he cherishes that and he loves you so much for that.

- you’re his person, he would genuinely kill for you if it meant he would lose someone so important in his life.

- if someone makes you sad, mad or uncomfortable ooo…not his babygirl.

- he usually doesn’t keep people or friends in his loop often, they could find him annoying or over the top but not you.

- you love absolutely everything about him, his outlandish humor, his extroverted personality, his big ol’ mouth. you think it’s so hot.

- so hot when he’s mean to you so hot when he’s soft with you

- you literally bicker like two teenage girls all the time and he always somehow clocks your tea it’s ridiculous but you also find it impressive that he always has something to say that you cannot come back from😭

- god you need to pray that no man ever even has the thought of coming on to you… he’ll experience some banter with your boyfriend before it’s lights out.

- not only are you his but he’s yours! he’s super loyal and if he can’t get someone to back off , you sure will!

- you’re always having fun with him date nights are some of the best times of your life, he always finds a way to entertain you no matter what you’re doing.

- always gotta hand somewhere, your ass, a singular cheek, a titty, somewhere. how could you expect him not to! you’re all his.

- you literally have him wrapped around your finger, he’d do absolutely anything for you.

- also always bullying you he is so straightforward😭

“hon that has got to be the ugliest shirt i’ve ever seen on you”

“wade-“

“i know you got better in that closet that i snoop through and try on all your clothes when you aren’t home now go!”

- he’s so tall so if you’re short oh wow…you’re never catching a break

“soooo how’s the weather down there.” wade said, placing his elbow on the crown of your head.

“prick…”

…

“yeah that’s enough of that dirty mouth!” your boyfriend had announced before bending down and wrapping an arm around your behind, throwing you over his shoulder and positioning his palm on your ass.

“god, wade put me down!” you’d laughed playfully hitting his back.

“don’t make me have to spank you!” he said, lighting pinching your ass.

- do not get an animal bc it will quickly become his center of attention and he will defend it over you.

“wade, we’re having my mom over please put it in the room”

“ugh…she’s so mean isn’t she sugar?” he’d said stroking your pet, followed by a “yes she is yes she is!” as the animal licked his face.

sigh.

- good lord we got a cuddle monster on our hands!

- absolutely adores any type of affection and practically begs you for it 24/7. he loves being little spoon specifically. also loves it when u scratch or message his back, bc that also gets him going..

- speaking of, you got this guy rock solid 24/7

“hungry for seconds?” he joked, hugging you from behind and pressing his hardened cock against your ass.

“we literally jus-“ you’d started just to be interrupted mid sentence.

“so! cmon baby throw a dog a bone.” he muttered, hand already gripping your inner thigh.

you’d sighed, god you can’t resist him.

- it doesn’t matter what you’re doing he finds anything you do hot i stg

- a M-U-N-C-H! for life, literally came in his pants from eating you out once! he loves making you feel good.

- a goofball during sex he cannot do shit seriously😭 he be talking you and your pussy thru it!

- again, if you’re petite god help you bc he is large.

- babe, you better match his freak because yall doing anything.

- trying a new thing every night multiple times bc that sex is never vanilla and that dick is never tired! at some point he’s just making positions up😭

[princesssmars]

baby girl, im finna rock your shit!

a sequel to this vi x reader. p.iii

wc : 1.735

contains : fxf relationship and sex. some romantic fluff. rough sex. penetrative sex (r!receiving). some dom!vi i think. lowkey highkey jealous/possesive vi.

a/n : greatest writing motivation is being horny as fuck. enjoy.

for better or worse, violet could not keep her hands off of you.

when you first glanced at her you did not take her for the type to be so affectionate - dyed black hair, smudged eyeshadow, not to mention the abundance of leather she was wearing as she celebrated knocking her opponent out cold. that mixed with her playboy reputation with some of her more desperate fans? let’s say you weren’t expecting nightly shoulder rubs and playful smushing of cheeks when you got home.

but when you finally gave her a chance to worm her way into your heart you were gladly surprised to see just how much of a sweetheart the boxer could really be. she texted you every day and constantly made sure you were taking care of your physical and mental well-being.

and of course, once you gave her the go-ahead she was so physically affectionate. she always had a hand on your hip when walking in public, gently moving you to avoid a small obstacle or to show you a small place she wanted to treat you to. at your shared apartments she would follow you around almost akin to a puppy, a big dopey smile on her face as she stood behind you while you were grabbing some chips from the kitchen.

“uhh…do you need something?”

“nope.”

“…are you sure?”

“yup.”

and every time you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and smile at her before putting a kiss on her cheek.

and while you noticed it beforehand, after you slept together for the first time you saw just how…depraved her affection could get.

from your experience, the first few days after the first time with a partner could be strange, with neither partner knowing when it would be right to initiate the next time without seeming too distant or too desperate. but gods were you glad you and vi were on the same wavelength. it was only the morning after that you were ready to go at her again, nearly embarrassingly desperate to feel the ache she left between your legs again.

but you were feeling just the slightest bit of self-conscious over how eager you were with her last night, so you decided to do something nice to show your appreciation by making her and you a nice breakfast. even though your legs felt the slightest bit wobbly as you made your way to the kitchen.

in the middle of you poking at the eggs to check their progress when you feel a pair of strong arms encircle your waist and a towering body press into your back. you try to keep focusing on the cooking but it becomes impossible when vi starts to playfully bite and kiss at the skin of your neck, forcing you to giggle as the feeling of it combined with her hair getting in your face.

your giggle turns into an airy gasp when her palms grasp your hips and she brashly thrusts her crotch into your backside, moving your body over to the side so you can grip the counter. a deep groan escapes from her throat when your hand travels up to grip her hair. another moan leaves your throat when she lets one of her hands travel down beneath her your sleepshirt.

so you were both equally desperate. and it was amazing.

now her quick kisses before boxing matches had a fair chance of turning into heated make-out sessions and quickies, her scarred lips smiling as she whispered how she needed to complete her ‘winning ritual’ before she goes out to fight, which usually consists of her getting on her knees and eating you out until you’re dizzy. she also loved downright groping you whenever she got the chance when you slept over at her apartment. you could be mopping the floors and she wouldn’t hesitate to reach down and squeeze or slap your ass before walking off like nothing happened.

and though you initially didn't suspect it, you find out she can be incredibly possessive. and again, it was amazing.

once you started to become more official vi made sure you had a front-row ticket to her matches so she could turn her head and spot you whenever she was in the ring. she was scheduled to fight some up-and-coming boxer who was known for her big mouth, and after shit-talking vi one too many times in the press your girlfriend was more than eager to step into the ring. you just didn't expect the woman to have an apparent death wish as she openly flirted with you before the match started, blowing you a kiss and a wink before coming face to face with an uncommonly calm violet.

it was one of the faster knockouts she'd gotten in her career.

as soon as the press and her team were done talking to her she gave you a look. a look that said “get your ass in the car because you are so getting messed up when we get home,,”

and so, you get your ass in the car. and not even an hour later, she makes good on her silent words.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“thats it, take it baby. just fucking take it.”

when you had called vi depraved you truly meant it, as there was no other way to describe the provocative posiiton she had you in - your body pliant and settled on top of hers as her arms wrapped under your kneed and locked behind your head.

all of it was just so deliciously disorienting. the way her feet planted on to the mattress so that she could use her core to thrust her hot pink strap inside of your cunt, the frequent growls and grunts she let fly right next to your ear, how her clasped hands kept forcing your head from rolling back to looking down-

you let out a pitifully desperate whine when your eyesight locks onto the sight of your body from the mirror she dragged over to the front of the bed. youd felt a zap go through your body as she was doing so, and it was only increased ten fold as you saw the creamy mess between your thighs, strings of your slick expanding and contracting each time she pounded herself into you.

“god, i can feel you clenching around me. you like looking at how fucking messy i make you?” violet sneers before delivering a random harsh thrust inside you, laughing nearly cruelly when an odd squeaking comes from your throat.

“aw don't worry baby, i love it too. sounds so fucking good, should've set up a god damn camera-”

it is definitely not embarrassing how loudly you moan at that. you aren't allowed to be bashful when violet giggles into your shoulder. she brings one of her hands to wrap around your throat while the other travels downwards. she brushes over your breasts and stomach, reveling in the ripple it causes when you take a shaky inhale at the feeling.

you’re so caught up in the contradictory softness of her touch and the roughness of her hips movements that you’re more than shocked when she raises her hand and brings it down in a hard slap against your thigh. your hips involuntarily move up into her palm while down towards the strap, conflicted on which pleasure you want to overwhelm you.

“come on, don't run from it. we know you can take it.” she groaned, bringing her hand down in another rough slap against your thigh. she was never the most jealous person. she was never in a relationship long enough to be jealous. but seeing you fall apart for her so desperately after that bitch had the nerve to hit on you in front of her put a sick feeling of satisfaction in the pit of her chest.

your whines start to take on a higher pitch that reveals to her you’re closer than ever to your orgasm. high off of the win and the euphoria of fucking you and feeling the base of her dick bumping into her clit with each thrust, she decides to take a gamble and do something that she knows will make you make a mess for her.

there are no words to describe the full-body feeling you have at her rough palm smacking down on your clit, or the way your orgasm rips out of you like a bullet train. it’s so powerful it nearly hurts, and no matter how much you try to arch away from her she uses her grip to hold you down and follows you up with her hips.

“nuh uh, don't fucking run from me, baby. just feel it, god take it, bet you look so fucking pretty.”

the pleasure feels like it lasts for hours, and its only halfway through that you realize you’re leaking all over both of you and the sheets. you also realize that the experience has brought violet to a fiery orgasm herself, her body pushing through the pleasure as she uses shaky thrusts to help the both of you ride through your orgasms.

with how much she loves being affectionate, it's no surprise that vi is a god at aftercare. once it's clear your high has passed and you’re teasing the edge of sleep she immediately gets to work by slowly slipping the strap out of you and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek when you whimper at the object leaving your warmth. ever so gently she handles your body to slip off of hers and rest on the bed and on shaky legs walks to get a rag from the bathroom.

after cleaning both of you off she tosses the strap to the floor to be cleaned later and flops in bed next to you. as she lays on her stomach she rests her arm over your body, pulling you in ever closer to her.

“y’know i think that reaction gives me permission to start calling you jealous.” your voice is quiet but hoarse and gives her just the littlest bit of pride.

“’m not jealous. maybe i just can’t get enough of you.”

god, you hope you get flirted with more often.

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[islandheartprincess]

bully!rafe x reader - pt. 2 ౨ৎ₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

part 1 ✧ part 2 ✧ part 3˚୨୧⋆｡

summary:you needed rafe, bad, just as much as he needed you. you both hate to admit it. PORN W/ PLOT! senior year of HS, both are of age

c!w:smut smut smuuuttt, dirty talk, fingering, cum eating, school sex, name calling, finger sucking, edging?, spit, semi-public sex, dry humping, swearing, 18+ MDNI

pairing: bully!rafe x sorta sassy innocent reader

after your experience in the bathroom, you couldn't look at rafe the same. unfortunately for you, hearing his desperate moans only made your need for him worse. you needed him in every way possible. all you could do, was wait for the next time he approached you.

you were trying your best to focus on your work in class, yet your mind was drifting to how pathetic he sounded in that stall. it was hard to not think about it, considering he was sitting in the seat behind you. you could feel his eyes on you, fixing your posture as your mind returned to the worksheet in front of you.

rafe, on the other hand, couldn't be less interested in even attempting to pay attention. he was too focused on the curve of your back, and how your ass looked on the seat. he fidgeted with a pencil in his hand, thinking of some way to piss you off and get your attention. he flicked the pencil in your direction, hitting your back.

you turned around, furrowing your brows at him. you stuck up your middle finger, getting a snicker out of him, whispering "sorry princess" under his breath.

you turned back to face your teacher, who was unfortunately looking right at you.

"miss l/n! how inappropriate of you, now focus on your work!" you sighed, looking down as you felt an embarrassing amount of eyes on you. this only motivated rafe more, waiting to catch you out of class.

as the bell rang, you quickly rushed out of class and headed to lunch. your school was pretty big, and you had found yourself in an empty hallway you didn't even know existed. for rafe, who had been following you, this was the perfect opportunity.

the sound of your dainty mary janes clicking filled the empty hallway, before you heard a familiar voice behind you. "hold up, where you headed off to?" you turned around to meet rafe's eyes, fluttering your lashes at him.

"what the hell do you want rafe?" you sighed at him, doing your best to rile him up. "god, you always like this? like, a sticks up your ass or some shit." he said back to you.

"you're the one always fucking following me around, kinda hard to ignore" you sassed him, faking your carelessness.

"wh- you little fuckin- think you can talk to me like that huh? dirty fucking mouth, fucking whore." he spat at you, his anger rising.

you were committed, you knew if you kept up this innocent girl act, he'd crack in seconds. "d'know what you're talkin bout...." you murmured, lifting your hand up to his chest.

"think you're so perfect, i know you're not some fuckin innocent good girl, you're a dirty bitch." his hand raised to your throat, making you feel like your heart was about to shoot out your chest.

"you just do this shit, so, so, someone could just put you in your place, fuck you right." he shouted at you and pushed you backwards, your back slamming against the empty lockers.

you knew how you were making him feel. he was cracking, he just didn't want you to know. all you did was bite your lips, squeezing your thighs together.

he gently squeezed your throat, feeling himself grow impatient, he couldn't wait to ruin you, every part of you. he hesitated a bit, before his hand trailed up your throat, landing on your jaw.

his curiosity got the best of him, he wanted to see how willing you were. his hand squeezed your jaw, looking at your soft, pink, lips and long lashes. he lifted his index and middle finger up to rest on your lips.

"you'd jus do anything for me? right?" he was right, you would. you placed your hand on his wrist, nodding at him and slightly parting your lips.

he took that as a sign to slip his fingers into your mouth. they slid past your tongue, you swirled them around his fingers as they furthened down your throat, making you gag a little. your eyes began tearing up, you squeezed his wrist, but continued to suck on his fingers.

he couldn't have been more hard than he was right now, his trousers uncomfortably tight on his crotch. "such a dirty bitch...." he muttered, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on his blazer. you were so needy, and he noticed. he ran his hand up your skirt, kissing your jaw.

his fingers slipped into your panties, damp and wet. "so wet, fuck, dirty girl, you jus need me so bad." his hot breath on your ear, while you let out small moans uncontrollably. he traced circles on your clit, running his fingers up and down, before easily slipping them into your tight cunt.

his fingers felt horribly amazing, scissoring into you, making you whine with your arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing his shoulder. "rafe, mmh, please please"

he fingered you harder, before stopping completely. a tear rolled down your cheek, gosh he was so mean. "please what? hm? what d'ya need princess?" he taunted you, humping into you. "please rafe! pleas- just- just fuck me please keep going rafe!" he chuckled at your pathetic begging, and continued abusing your cunt, curling his fingers and perfectly hitting your g-spot.

you felt your climax nearing, slapping his back, while he kept humping into you"rafe! god, 'm so close rafey!" you moaned into his ear. "mhm? you gonna cum f'me baby? cum on my fingers" that was all it took for you to let go, all over his fingers.

you breathed heavily, laying your head on his shoulder while he slipped his fingers out of you, covered in cum. he brought his fingers up to his mouth, and licked them clean. it turned you on, rightfully so. your eyes trailed down to his crotch, noticing the wet patch on his pants. all that bullshit he pulls about being in control, hes just as pathetic as you.

before he let go of you, his hand returned to your jaw, "open" he demanded. you opened your mouth, tongue sliding out too. he spat into your mouth, closing your lips and planting a kiss onto your forehead. he muttered into your ear "your only my slut, kay?" he smoothed out his hair, turning his back away from you, and walking away.

you slid down the lockers, closing your eyes, as your heart beat returned normal. you needed him, you admit that. but he needed you just as much, nobody saw the side of him you did. nobody effected him just as much you did.

part 3 (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

[beloveds-embrace]

More roomate!au thoughts because, again, my brain never stops. When you move in with them, dont expect to be able to do anything by yourself ever again (unless its housework and their away), your car needs fuel? Dont worry Simon will go with you and fill it up for you and dont even think about trying to pay for it yourself, you tried once and Simon just glared at you so you tucked your card back into your purse. You need to go get a few supplies for college, Price and Gaz are joining you and giving their opinions about the best laptop to get or the best stationary (they fill out enough paperwork that they know the best ones). You're cooking them dinner, Johnnys right by your side following your every order and helping to wash up while you go relax on the sofa waiting for whatevers in the oven. And you will want for nothing, you see a pair of shoes you want while out shopping but their outside of your price range, they arrive at your door a week later just after the boys deploy, you see a pretty necklace on TV and comment on it, Johnnys there behind you fastening it just before your next night out. You lament that your mattess and bed are uncomfortable, a new one arrives the next and it just so happens to be big enough to fit all 5 of you on it.

Yeah, the boys would 1000% give you princess treatment

My mind is still on that drabble so i absolutely love this so so so very much god yes….

Original post

It doesn’t end there, of course. God, they do so, so much for you.

It’s Simon who stands right outside the bathroom door when you get sick late at night, trying to be quiet and not bother anyone yet when you tell him he should go to sleep, you’ll be fine, he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“Don’t need sleep,” he grunts, pulling you against his body. Despite your protests, his warmth alone makes you melt. “Jus’ tell me what you need.”

It’s Gaz who gifts you with a surprise spa day kit after he notices how exhausted you look during your exams, gently pushing aside your laptop. “You look knackered, lovie,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you, alright? You always spoil us when we return anyways, this the least we can do.”

It’s Johnny who immediately knows your day has been shit just from listening the way you shuffle in, shoulders slumped and head downcast.

“Someone steal yer sunshine, hen?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, Johnny,” you mumble tiredly, yet you have no energy to refuse when he leads you to the couch. “Bad day. I’ll just go to my room-“

“Nah, none o’ that,” he shakes his head, taking your bag. “Sit down, aye? I’ll fix you up something warm.” Though he makes sure to drap a blanket over yours shoulders before he goes into the kitchen, muttering about food.

It’s Price who goes hand in hand with your safety. All of them do make you feel safe but John is just- a bit different.

Once, you were being followed after you finished shopping and like an idiot, you’d forgotten your usual pepper spray you carried. You knew you were being followed because you could feel the eyes constantly on you and you circled the same area several times. Your hands are shaking when you text him, praying to every god-

- john

- Yes, love?

You are too afraid to even crack a smile at his serious punctuation.

- someones following me idk what to d

You don’t wait for him to reply. Just nervously, with too many typos, you tell him where you are and if please can he come or any of the men-

When John appears by your side in no less than five minutes, he just pulls you close to his side.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He ushers you along. “Bloke’s been dealt with. Give me your backs, yeah? Next time tell me or any of the muppets to join you.”

Too late you notice the blood splatters on his knuckles.

Also, remember when I said the original ad had been because they wanted someone to keep the place tidy when they are away? That doesn’t apply when they are home. If they see you cleaning or cooking, they are helping- nu uh, no complaints allowed, they are not about to let you slave away when you have four very capable men at your beck and call.

Hell, once it was Johnny who saw you scrubbing the kitchen floors and he just picked you up and placed you on the counter, tsking at you.

In a few hours, John returned to find all of them cleaning the kitchen; Soap was now dusting, Gaz vaccuming, and Simon wiping the counters.

And you were bundled in the couch corner, cozy and cute.

“What’s all this?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and you shrug.

“She was tryin’ to clean.” Johnny grumbled from the corner.

“And you didn’t stop her sooner?”

“Bloody stubborn bird,” Ghost was the one who replied this time, not even looking up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look John fixed you with made you shut your mouth with a click.

“Good girl.”

The warmth on your cheeks was definitely not from overworking, at least.

You mention needing new clothes? You wake up to Simon’s credit card on your nightstand with a note ordering you to use it. “Strangely”, you can’t find neither your own card nor your wallet.

You also can’t find him, but Kyle’s there and oh wow! He has nothing to do so he will in fact be joining you (and making you model the dresses and outfits and send pictures to the others so you can be drowned in compliments)!

Also i like to hc that john(s) are both huge coffee lovers and they do in fact have those huge, fancy coffee machines yk? They are insulted when they see you drink the cheap, shitty, tasteless instant coffee you are surviving on and from then on, you will wake up every day to warm, fresh coffee made for you <33

Anyways gods i love them sm can you tell 😩😩

[pucksandpower]

Shameless

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: you + Lestappen + a sex tape leak + one very unamused head of communications … need I say more?

Based on this request

The Red Bull Racing communications office smells like stale coffee and impending doom. Portia, the team’s head of communications, sits stiffly in the center of the storm, knuckles white around her phone. She stares at the video playing on her laptop, horrified but unable to look away.

The footage is intimate, explicit — grainy but undeniably clear. Three people, tangled up in sheets, moaning names, gasping into each other’s mouths. Max Verstappen. You. And, unmistakably, Charles Leclerc.

Her inbox is a dumpster fire of urgent PR memos, emails with subject lines in all caps, and press releases that have already been revised half a dozen times. She hasn’t even responded to half of them yet. No point.

This is beyond damage control.

The door swings open violently, smacking into the wall. Max strolls in first, looking every bit as casual as if he just finished a training session. You follow behind him, your hair in a messy bun, holding a half-eaten croissant. Charles is the last to enter, chewing gum like this is the most ordinary thing in the world.

Portia blinks at the three of you. “… What the hell?”

Max plops into the chair across from her, sprawling out like he’s just arrived at a friend’s house. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Portia repeats, incredulous. “You-” She gestures frantically toward her screen. “The video. The world just saw everything, Max! You, her, him-” She throws a desperate look at Charles, who only shrugs.

“Yeah. We saw,” Charles says casually, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Max. “Kind of funny, no?”

Portia makes a strangled noise in her throat. “No! It is not funny, Charles. None of this is funny!” She can already feel the migraine creeping in, sharp and mean behind her left eye.

Max leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Listen, it’s not like we were hiding it. We’ve been-”

“Friends,” you interject, your voice calm as ever. “Very close friends.”

Charles grins. “Really close.”

Max winks. “Super close.”

Portia pinches the bridge of her nose. “Stop saying that.”

“You’re the one freaking out,” Max says, as if that makes any of this better. “It’s not a big deal.”

Portia throws up her hands. “Max, it’s not just a sex tape. It’s a scandal. Sponsors, shareholders, media outlets — everyone is calling. Red Bull is losing its mind, Ferrari is fuming, and the internet-” She gestures vaguely toward the air, as if the internet is some wild animal loose in the building. “-is losing its collective shit.”

Charles leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “The internet always loses its shit.”

“True,” Max agrees, glancing at you. “Remember when they thought we broke up because I didn’t post anything for two weeks?”

You hum thoughtfully, finishing the last bite of your croissant. “They were so mad.”

Portia stares at the three of you like she’s trapped in some bizarre fever dream. “Are none of you remotely concerned about this?”

Max shrugs. “Not really.”

“It’s out now,” you say, wiping your hands on a napkin. “What’s the point of stressing?”

Charles nods like you just delivered the most profound truth of the century. “Exactly. It’s not like we can put it back in the box.”

“Oh my god,” Portia mutters, pressing her palms to her temples. “You’re all insane.”

Max flashes her a charming smile — the kind that usually gets him out of trouble. “Come on, Portia. You handle worse than this all the time.”

“Not this, I don’t!” She groans. “I mean, sure, we’ve dealt with crashes, team infighting, broken engines, drunk interviews-” She shoots a pointed look at Max, who grins unapologetically. “But this? This is next level.”

Charles checks his phone, seemingly unbothered by her panic. “The fans seem to love it, though. Look-” He flips the screen toward Portia. It’s a Twitter thread full of memes and heart-eye emojis, captioned with things like Lestappen and Y/N living their best lives and Honestly, goals.

Portia glares at the phone like it just insulted her family. “This is not helping.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Actually, it kind of is.” He points at the screen. “If the fans are cool with it, the sponsors will calm down eventually.”

“Sponsors are not fans.” Portia slams her laptop shut, as if doing so will somehow make the problem disappear. “Sponsors are very rich, very conservative people who do not want their logos anywhere near a video of you having a threesome!”

Charles clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Technically, it’s not just a threesome.”

Portia shoots him a death glare. “I swear to God, Charles-”

You stifle a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. Max notices, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he nudges you with his elbow. “See? Even Y/N thinks it’s funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” you admit, which only makes Charles beam with satisfaction.

Portia looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. “This is not funny. None of this is funny.”

“I think you need to relax,” Max says, as if that’s the simplest solution in the world. “It’s not like we committed a crime.”

“It might as well be,” Portia snaps. “Do you know what Ferrari is going to do with this? They’re probably drafting some moral code violation complaint as we speak.”

Charles waves a hand dismissively. “They can’t fire me. I bring too much to the table.”

Portia gives him a flat look. “Charles, you are the table.”

“Exactly.”

Max turns to you, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair. “Do you think we should put out a statement?”

You consider it for a moment, then shake your head. “Nah. Statements are boring.”

“Agreed,” Charles says, pulling his phone back out to scroll through more tweets. “No one likes statements.”

Portia exhales slowly, as if trying to summon every ounce of patience she has left. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Your solution to this PR nightmare is ... to do absolutely nothing?”

“Exactly,” Max says with a satisfied nod. “We just let it blow over.”

“Like Austria,” you add.

Portia stares at you, aghast. “Austria? You cannot compare this to a racing incident in Austria!”

Max looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. I think it’s kind of similar. People get mad for a while, then they forget.”

Charles grins mischievously. “By next week, someone else will do something stupid, and no one will care about this.”

Portia groans, dragging her hands down her face. “You are all ... impossible.”

Max reaches across the table to pat her shoulder. “You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”

“Max,” Portia says, her voice low and dangerous. “If this mess costs us a single sponsor — just one — I swear I will make your life a living hell.”

Max’s grin widens. “You already do.”

You burst out laughing at that, and even Portia can’t suppress a reluctant smile, though it’s clear she’s fighting it with every fiber of her being.

“This isn’t over,” she warns, but there’s no real bite in her voice.

“It never is,” Charles says breezily. “But that’s half the fun, no?”

You lean into Max’s side, content and completely unbothered, and he drapes an arm around your shoulders. Charles glances over at the two of you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “See? We’re all good. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Portia shoots him a murderous glare. “Do not say that.”

Max laughs, the sound low and easy, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the room doesn’t exist — no scandals, no cameras, no angry emails. Just the three of you, stuck in the strangest mess, but somehow, perfectly fine with it.

And, really, isn’t that all that matters?

***

A few weeks later, Portia is sitting at her desk, sipping her second coffee of the morning, when her inbox pings with a new email. She glances at the subject line, hoping it’s something routine — maybe a press update, or an invitation to a sponsor event.

Instead, her heart drops.

URGENT: New Video — Verstappen, Leclerc, and Y/L/N on Beach Vacation

She groans audibly, slamming her head down on the desk with a dramatic thud. They didn’t listen to her at all.

Opening the email, her stomach churns as she scrolls down to the attached link. The video loads instantly — there’s Max, Charles, and you, sun-kissed and carefree, lounging on beach chairs somewhere tropical. The sound of waves crashing in the background is almost soothing.

Almost.

And then, without warning, it escalates — hands everywhere, tangled limbs, kisses that start off playful but quickly turn into something else entirely. A bottle of rosé tips over in the sand as Max pulls you onto his lap, and Charles leans over, dragging his mouth along your shoulder with a grin.

Portia shakes her head in disbelief, muttering under her breath, “I’m going to kill them.”

Another ping. This time, a text from Max.

Saw the email. You’re gonna love the next one.

She screams into her coffee mug.

[rafesslxt]

Showerhead | mattheo riddle

summary: you thought you were alone in the bathroom when your wild thoughts took over you but you suddenly hear a second voice.. and its not inside your head.

warnings: masturbating for a sec, cursing, filthy DIRTY TALK, fingering, mattheo eating out reader, unprotected p in v, enemyxlover vibe, gryffindor!reader

notes: DAMN I'M BACK! I'm sorry but I had a HUGE writing block. Also: english is not my first language so pls let me know If there'S something I can correct :)

My day was unbelievable fucked. I woke up too late, got detention because i talked to my friends while Snape was teaching us something, i spilled my food over my clothes.. twice.. after that I fell from my broomstick at the quidditch training and now i sat with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the Great Hall eating.

„Yo y/n can I copy your homework later? I got -" Ron startet but i interrupted him "Yeah yeah whatever.. guys I‘m gonna go to bed okay? See you after this." Hermione and me shared a room so I would see her later.

I rushed to our dorm, getting rid of my dirty clothes. God I needed a shower, now. I took my clothes, shower stuff and towels and started to walk towards one of the big bathrooms.

Because I wanted more privacy, I did go to one that not many students know about. Hermione once told me about it as she talked about Hogwarts in first grade.

As I walked inside, I checked If someone‘s here but I was alone. I took off my clothes and stood under one of the showers more in the corner and let the water run down my body. I sighed as I felt it on my skin, finally feeling more relaxed.

My thoughts started drifting after a while as my hands glided over my body. Damn my muscles are really sore. When was even the last time I had sex? I think it was like 3 months ago with a guy from Ravenclaw. He looked promising but merlin was I feeling disappointed after.

I couldn‘t even touch myself cause I was always around people, sharing rooms together and shit.

I bit my lip as I looked at that shower head above me. Nah I couldn‘t.. could I? Did I even have time? I mean I was in here already for like 20 minutes so I had to be in my room before curfew but god damn I was so desperate.

Oh fuck it – what is one more detention, right? I took the shower head, letting my other hand slowling wandering over my nipples. I whimpered slightly at the feeling, realising now how desperate I really was.

I took the shower head and put it where I needed it the most. My thoughts drifted again and I tried to think about someone but no face appeared until - fuck no, I can‘t think about him.. but before I could debate more with myself, his name left my lips.

"Fuck Mattheo.." my lips parted and my breathing got heavier. Merlin was I already about to cum? How pathetic, I didn‘t even touch myself properly but that kind of didn‘t matter as the next words left my mouth. "Shit.. please" i begged into the foggy air around me.

"Damn Princess.." My blood got cold and my body tensed to a point where I couldn‘t move. I swallowed as I opened my eyes and saw Mattheo Riddle standing right in front of me. The one who‘s name I just moaned.

I tried to hide my body behind my hands, a little too late. "Fuck Riddle what the hell are you doing here?!" I asked him angry. Once because I stood there completley naked and he didn‘t even tried not to look and second for my again – non existing orgasm.

He looked shamelessly over my body, scanning every inch of my skin. He had a towel hanging low on his hips, which didnt really helped the state i was in right now.

" I could ask you the same but I think I just heard what you did.." he smirked arrogant and looked at my face. "You know you could have just asked If you wanted my help."

I rolled my eyes at him as I took one of my towels from the side to hide my body but as I did I had to let go which leaded him to look at my breasts. I saw him licking his lips, looking up at my face again as I wrapped the towel around myself.

"Just because your name is Mattheo, doesn‘t mean I was thinking about you."

He grinned again, coming closer to me slowly. "Oh yeah? Then who did you mean?" I tried to think about an different Mattheo but there was no one in this school I knew with that name – besides him.

He just stood one inch away from me now, backing me into the shower again until my back hit the wall.

"Princess.. i know you did think about me, there‘s no shame in telling." I started nibbling on my bottom lip as a signal to being nervous. God he smelled so good and his face looked even more handsome now that the single drops of water fell onto his face from his still wet hair.

"And what If I was? Are you going to tell all your stupid little friends?" He chuckled "No.." his face came even closer now "just let me help you out with that." I swallowed down a clump in my troath as he said that. My pride was way too big for him to just come here and fuck me like that..right?

"Hell no I -" "Why not huh? I saw how desperate your little body looked as you just begged for more.. let me help you with that, I‘m gonna make you cum within the first minutes." Now his arrogant smile was back, his breath hitting my lips now.

"Yeah all of you boys say that, leaving me unsatisfied after." I huffed, looking away from his piercing eyes.

"Let‘s make a deal little one.. I‘m gonna eat you out and If I don‘t make you cum within the, lets say: five minutes? I‘ll leave and never bother you again.."

I looked at his lips while he was talking. They looked so soft and kissable – fuck was I really considering what he said? I mean he‘s a Riddle and a stupid little fucker but maybe that‘s just what I needed right now. Stupid little Fucker named Mattheo Riddle.

"And what If you make me cum?" i looked up at his eyes again. He towered his head over mine grinning, coming down to my ear and whispered "..then you‘re mine for the night." He smiled almost devilish and I know I should‘ve said no but damn 3 months were starting to get the best of me.

"Deal." It felt like as If I just signed up for the devil. His smile grew at my words and he pushed me against the wall this time, unwrapping the towel i just put on.

"Damn your body looks so good, just perfect for me to eat." Shivers went down my spine at his words right towards my - " I hope you know what you just got yourself into." Suddenly he took me by my hips, lifting me up against the wall again as I wrapped my legs around his hips.

"It‘s kind of unfair that you still have your towel on, don‘t you think?“ "Oh don‘t worry princess, it‘s coming off very soon."

He took one hand away from supporting my ass, to my cheek. He looked deep into my eyes, almost staring into my soul. He closed the gap between us, kissing me like no boy ever did before in my whole life. The kiss was passionate, heated and longing. Almost as If we would seperate, we couldn‘t breathe.

I felt the tip of his tounge slide over my bottom lip which made me moan slightly. He smiled against my lips and pressed himself harder against me.

I opened my mouth slowly, which he took as a opportunity to explore my mouth with his tounge fighting over control with mine.

He let go of my lips what almost costed me a whimper but I pressed my lips together. He took me by my hips again, lifting me higher until I sat on his shoulders, my eyes going wide. Damn I don‘t think I need 5 minutes.

"You ready?" he mumbled against my inner tight he started kissing softly with his wet lips. I just let out a deep breathe and nodded, putting my hands on his hair.

He started kissing higher up until his mouth was just an inch away from my pussy. "5 Minutes are alredy starting" I chocked out, but in reality I just wanted him so start.

I could feel him grinning like an little ass but these thoughts were thrown out of the window as his tounge touched my clit.

I held in my breathe for a second as he started to kitten lick my clit and massaging my tights with his hands. I buckled against his face but he was faster and backed away. I let out a desperate whine at the loss of contact.

"Beg me.." he told me looking up at me with his chocolate brown eyes. Shit who was I even to deny that? Now wasn‘t really the moment for too much pride. "Please.." He raised his eyebrows " Please what?" "Please eat me out Mattheo, I need it - please.."

Satisfied with my answer he licked flat over my pussy, focusing on my clit again as he started to suck it. "Oh my-" my lips parted and my hands flew into his hair again, pressing his face deeper between my legs.

"Fuck that feels good" i moaned and arched my back off the wall as I felt something deep down in my stomach. Shit he didn‘t even do much but give my clit some attention - really good attention - and I was already close again.

I felt his hand going under my tight and his thumb being places on my clit. He moved his finger in circular motions, sliding his tounge to by entrance, fucking me with it.

"M-mattheo please!“ shamelessly i bucked my hips and cried out his name.

"You close baby?" he asked, mumbling against my wet skin. I just nodded breathless until I felt a sharp and powerful feeling in my abdomen.

It completely crushed me. Everything around me went black for a few seconds and I couldnt hear anything. I just came so hard on Mattheo‘s tounge that I didn‘t even realise where I was for a short moment.

I looked down on me, looking in Mattheo‘s eyes, already looking at me. "You taste so good baby."

He slowly lets me down again but holds me as we both notice how weak my knees are. "Damn I didnt expect that.." i breathe out and look at his lips, still glistening from my juices.

"I think you lost our deal.." he grinned and startet slowly kissing my neck. I chuckle, nodding just slowly, thinking about how much I actually want him and not caring about the fact that I lost.

"..but you don‘t really seem to care huh." he grins and slowly rubs my back before turning me around so I faced the wall. "Hands on the wall baby." No matter what he said, I always heard him smiling. Smug little ass. "Spread your legs princess, that's it.. wider." My stomach twisted at his vulgar words, never ever did a boy talk to me like that.

I did as he said, spread my legs even wider while my hands touched the cold wall. "Hmm now arch your back for me."

I felt his hands slither around my waist down to my lover stomach. Every touch of his send shivers down my spine. Suddenly, I felt his breath against my ear, his lips kissing the shell of it as he murmurs with a deep voice. "I'm going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head." "Stop teasing me and do it!"

He chuckles darkly and I feel the tips of his fingers wandering slowly over my pussy. "Do you really think you're in a position to give orders?" Goosebumps.

As I didn't answer him he lightly brushed his finger over my clit, making me shiver again, while brushing soft kisses across my back.

"Please." I let out a whimper, arching my back just a little more and pushing my hips into his body. Then, I felt him at my entrance, pressing the tip of his cock against my clit, just where his fingers had been a second ago.

"Beg. Fucking let me hear how much you want this cock." he whispers into my ear, his hot breath hitting my ear. My whole body shudders and I can't help it but do as he tells me to.

"Mattheo please I need you. I need to feel you, I'll do anything." I feel myself almost crying from the frustration and arousal. "Good Girl." he groans before he slowly enters me. Fuck.

"Oh Shit baby, you feel so tight." Mattheo grunted shamelessly as my walls clenched around him. My breathing got heavy and I bite my bottom lip to hide my moans.

"Don't hold back." he commands and just so, I let my lip go and whimper out his name.

"Hmm just like that princess." He pushes further inside of me, groaning at the feeling. I feel so full of him, I can't think straight besides of him and how good he feels.

Abruptly he started moving his hips fast an hard against my ass, leaving my mouth hanging wide open. " Oh fuck, Mattheo!" I cried out at the sensation. His hand started to wander up and down my body, over my back, my stomach, my tits - playing with my nipples.

"What, you want gentle? Wrong fucking address." God where has he been all these months? It feels like he just fills that hole inside of me - literally.

I hear him panting behind me, not slowing down with the movement of his hips. "Shit I would've fucked you way sooner If knew you had such a tight little pussy, just waiting for me to come and fuck it sore."

I hiss as he takes my hair into his fist and yanks my head backwards so It would lay against his shoulder while my back is still arched and he presses me against him. My hands roam over his arm that holds me in the middle of my body and I close my eyes. I'm definitely gonna be sore tomorrow.

I felt him changing the angle of his hips a little and my eyes almost bulged out of my head. "Oh my god!" I almost scream, forgetting that someone could hear us, even tho not many know about this bathroom. "Fuck yes, I feel you clenching around me princess. Does that feel good hm?" he teases and bites my neck gently.

Words coiled inside my throat, coming out as broken sobs, telling him I'm wanting more. "You're still holding back, just let go."

So I screamed his name again, over and over again, until I felt a sharp pang in my stomach. His hand let go of my body, his second hand still in my hair. He grabbed the shower head and turned the pressure higher before he holded it right against my clit.

I was a whimpering and sobbing mess at this point, begging him to let me come. "Look at me. I wanna see you coming around my cock." He tugs at my hair and my eyes roll back to look into his, which gave me the rest I just needed to come.

Looking into his eyes made my walls clench around him again, leaving his mouth hanging wide open. "Shit.." he grunted and closed his eyes as his rhythm became more erratic. Just as I slowly came down from my high, I felt him pulling out of me and coming all over my back, spreading his hot cum.

"Fucking hell.." he breathed out and slowly let go of my hair and hanging the shower head back onto the wall after washing his cum off of my back. I turned around and looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"What? Did I fuck out all your negative energy?" he chuckled, pressing me against him again with one of his arms. I roll my eyes at his comment but still I couldn't hide my smile. "I have something for you.." he said, now he's smiling like a little devil.

I look at him confused which he answers me with his fingers in front of my mouth. I look down at them and gasp as I see his cum on them. "Come on, open up baby.." I didn't knew why but again I did as he said and parted my lips. He pushed his fingers inside my mouth and grins. "Suck them."

I started sucking on his fingers and swirling my tongue around them, tasting his salty cum. His eyes rolled back a little and I saw him shuddering for a moment. "Damn, you wanna suck my cock maybe?"

I did let go of them and chuckled as I pressed myself pass his body to wrap my towel around my wet body. " Maybe next time.."

"Oh so you wanna do this more often, huh?"

Oh and how we both didn't knew at that moment how often actually.

_______

Who wants a part 2? It's here!

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xoxo Sarah <3

[reidrum]

i cannot stop thinking about reader giving jesus hair spencer a blowjob, and him using the hair tie he keeps on his wrist to put her hair up

hair tie | s.r

a/n: hey so this made me insane. also i wrote this really fast if it seems rushed that’s why. may we all be manhandled by jesus reid in the near future amen

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, blowjob, softdom!spence lowkey, reader has hair long enough to be tied up, can be read as gn!reader but lmk if i missed something!

wc: 888

——————————————————————————

spencer’s long hair was definitely a choice. he grew it out to his shoulders purely because he couldn’t make it to a barber, and simply because he didn’t really care. it did become a hassle when he’d be hunched over his desk finishing reports and strands of hair would fall forward and obstruct his eyesight.

he found that he would waste so much time when he paused to push his hair behind his ears (two minutes and thirty seconds slower, he counted). he’d come home to you and complain wondering how all women dealt with the long hair if it just always flew in front of them. how did you get anything done?

then one day when spencer came home from work, you had a small surprise for him. a pack of 100 black hairties.

“so you can just put your hair up in a little pony or man bun and keep working!” you’d exclaimed.

he was so endeared by the gesture, he rarely ever tied his hair up but he never left the house without a hair tie on his wrist. he liked having the option if he needed it, plus it always reminded him of you when he saw it.

the few times he’s used it are during intense heat waves in dc, when he’s dealing with toxic chemicals and such, and when he’s with you.

when he goes down on you, his hair would never stay in place. and it irked him to have to remove his fingers from you in order to fix it. you found it so hot though. he was deathly hot, but he really didn’t understand what it did to you when he was on his knees tying his hair up for you.

until it happened to him, of course.

he had come home from work, tired from the day at the office. you led him to the couch and told him to sit and relax while you took care of him. he spreads his legs open and leans back onto the couch, his arms fanning outwards to rest on the ledge, “you’re too good to me, baby.”

you were down on him, moving your head and back and forth on his length. you traced the underside vein with your tongue, getting as much as you could down your throat. the sight of you dribbling spit all over his cock sent him into another orbit. it was messy, lewd, and outright fucking hot.

but that hair of yours kept falling down your cheeks and blocked the beautiful view of him fucking your mouth. he rakes his hands through your hair, but as much as he could hold it on his own, your ministrations were too good for him to keep a good grip on it.

in a haste move, he removes his hands and you look up at him in confusion at the loss of contact. you watch intently as he rolls the hair tie off his sleeve, the one that you got him, and watch him tie your hair up in a haphazard ponytail.

jesus fucking christ.

you whimper at the gesture, overwhelmed by the feeling of him tying your hair up. he feels you falter for a second, before you raise both hands to the remaining of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth and hollow your cheeks out.

“fuck, angel, that’s so good—oh my god,” he mewls, “you like it when i tie your hair up? like when i—shit— use my own hair tie on you?”

you moan around his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body which he responded with a long groan, “bet you didn’t think this is what i’d use the hair ties for huh?”

he stares down at your face, tears streaming down both sides as you keep him in your mouth, as he twirls the ponytail in his big hand and tugs.

“baby, oh my god, fuck i’m gonna come.” he lets out, and soon he releases himself into your mouth as you swallow every last drop. you pull your mouth off his cock, leaning your cheek on his inner thigh as you stare up at him trying to catch your breath.

“holy shit.” you breathe out.

he laughs, “holy shit is right,” he strokes your hair gently, “was it actually hot when i tied your hair up?”

you look at him incredulously, “are you joking? the fact that i bought it for you to use, that you keep it on your wrist all the time, and that you used it on me when i was sucking you off, i could outcompete the sun right now.”

he pulls you off your knees to sit on his lap on the couch, “i’ll make note of that, my love,” he softly kisses you. cuddling further into his chest, you both end up falling asleep on the couch tangled all up in each other.

later down the line, spencer realizes that those cheap black hair ties aren’t all that great. they break easily and he finds it pulled out his hair, and probably your hair, a lot.

to solve this, spencer buys a pack of baby pink scrunchies that he keeps on his wrist at all times. he read somewhere they’re easier on the scalp. morgan makes fun of him for it, and while spencer rarely uses the scrunchies for himself, looking at the pink on his wrist always made his cock twitch a little no matter where he was.

[mrsnishimuraaa]

studio time

PAIRING: riki x fem!reader / reader is 8th member of enha

SYNOPSIS: after a late night practice y/n and riki go and spend some time in the studio to relax (established relationship)

GENRE: smut, fluff

NOTE: reqs and asks are open!! lmk what you guys would like to see/hear more of xo

riki clicks the studio room door closed and twists the lock as you fall back onto the couch, still quite puffed from your long practice.

you simply take a moment to admire the beauty of the man before you, his tall frame moving toward you with that sly smirk on his face that he always has. he takes a seat on the swivel chair infront of you, man spreading immediatly and you cant stop your eyes from wondering to the print shown through his grey sweatpants.

"my eyes are up here y'know" he laughs as he places a finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him in his eyes. "it looked at me first" you giggle playfully and he laughs at your antics. "yeah yeah just say your a pervert" he's yet again laughing, but this time hes grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

your taken by suprise yet you still kiss him back without a thought, melting into the kiss as his hands wander your body, landing on your sides as you snake your arms around his neck and into his hair. his loose tank shirt giving you access to feel his warm toned abs. riki lets out a breathy moan at the feel of your hands on his skin, and before you can even react, riki lifts you up slightly and sits you on the desk that was once behind you. breaking the kiss he admires you "so pretty hm baby?"

he runs his thumb over your lips before slowly pulling you back in for a kiss, tounge sliding into your mouth as his big and cold hands run down your body slowly, reaching your waistband as he tugs on it, you let out a small whine. you feel your pants and panties being slid down your legs and onto the floor. biting his lip in the kiss in an attempt to make him hurry up, the neediness taking over your body as he pulls his own sweats and boxers down freeing his cock.

he pulls back from the kiss, tucking the hair behind your ear as he pumps his cock in his hand a few times , you relax back onto your hands as he pushes your legs open wider " please ki" you beg him, biting your lip as you look up at him. riki folds at the hot yet so innocent look on your face and he just cant help himself, he lines himself at your entrance and he watches as your face twist when he slowly pushes into you.

a smirk paints his face as he starts to move and thrust into you "oh! fuck riki" your head is thrown back in pleasure as he picks up his pace , his long dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust. your moans growing louder as your orgasm starts to build "yeah? you feel that huh?" he smirks at you again, god he knows you too well.

his hand snaking up to you neck , not applying much pressure at all but the feeling of that, and his way of words drives you insane. "shit riki im gonna cum" you look up at him , your fucked out face turns him on even more "yeah? gonna cum all over this dick?" he breaths out as he moves both his hands to your hips, supporting you and holding you in place as his thrusts deepen chasing his own high.

its not long before you come undone your high pitched moans and heavy breaths fill the room moments before riki's orgasam follows. painting thick white ropes of cum inside of you as your legs quiver. he slowly pulls out with a sharp breath, both sad at the feeling of emptiness but so relaxed after long hours of work, both pulling your pants back on.

as your lifted up once again, the feeling of a kiss pressed against your forehead by such familiar lips "your so pretty y/n" you close your eyes at his words and smile "i love you riki" your beaming smile brightening the room intsantly "i love you more" riki pokes his tounge out teasingly "dont start what you cant finish" you laugh as you try to pounce on him but are so easily stopped by his strength "your so small and weak" riki laughs as he pulls you into his arms embracing you. "oh shut up" you jokingly hit his shoulder.

later in the night riki is woken by the door being unlocked and opened, jungwon and heeseung had come to check on the two of you, "aw how cute" jungwon whispers as riki gestures to be quiet. your asleep on his chest curled up and cuddled into him.

You wake up in the morning in you and rikis bed in the dorm, your a bit confused at first but realise you were carried out of the building and taken home to the dorms.

you may have gotten clipped by fans as riki carried you out of the HYBE building and to the car, but fans only think it was such a cute gesture.

[euaphora]

she got a tattoo right by her bikini that say “eat me!” | ft. Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru

warnings: smut, threesome, face- fucking, oral sex, size kink, voyeurisum, jealousy issues, breeding kink, dom!pervy!gojo, sub!bratty!reader, dom!pervy!geto, cum eating.

Gojo and Geto were your college dorm roommates who loved tag teaming on you since the day you got there, always making fun of you by hiding stuff under the couch, already, so you would bend over with your ass up, giving them a perfect view of your pink lace panties.

“Not funny guys, I need these bottles for my skincare…” you said, already pissed off after having to find them under the couch. You would be on all fours—your hand trying to reach for mini bottles under the couch— both hovering over you, watching you fall for their trap.

They loved making fun of your height, you were always the monkey in the middle when they would throw around your lingerie. “Give it back already, guys!” you plead, running back and forth in-between them. All they did was laugh at you, teasing you. “You gonna show this off to your new boyfriend?”

When they would bring over girls, they always made sure you can hear every single sound they would make, the feminine moans slipping out of her mouth made your blood boil a little bit. Why were they being so loud, god?

The mornings after never phased you anymore, getting so used to different girls coming over. “Sleep good, sweetheart?” Gojo asks, coming up from behind you while grabbing a cup from the cabinet in front of you both, making you slightly feel his bulge.

“No, could you please a little quiet..next time?” You say, moaning at the feeling from his now hard member in his pants, ready to be let out and inside you already. “What was that?” Geto interrupts you both, you look over your other shoulder, seeing him lean against the counter with a mug in his hand.

“Yeah, ‘seemed like you were having trouble there.” Gojo laughs out and smiles, towering over you when you turn around. “I wouldn’t have had any trouble if you weren’t trying to get off with my ass..” you clap back, making them look at each other then back to you.

“Don’t be talking to me like that, princess. I get that your a little mad but-”

“You can’t keep being these girls over and expect for me to be okay, I live here too!” You explain, frustration taking over. He puts his hands out to try and reason things out but your pull away, “don’t fucking touch me, Satoru!”

“Get on your knees.” Gojo says while slipping his cock out of his briefs while maintaining eye contact.

“W-what?! I’m not gonna do whatever you ask your other hoes to-” you get cut off while he roughly pushes you onto your knees and shoved his cock inside your mouth, “You wanna talk now, mmhm?” He laughs out, watching tears slip out of your eyes and chin covered with his pre-cum.

“Too big for you, baby?” He told you, watching you take him all in your mouth, “pretty little slut with a big mouth..”

You feel his hips stuttering, feeling ropes of his white seed pop into your mouth while the rest falls off onto your breast. You get up and walk towards Geto, who already has his own already out, pumping his fist.

You lean your hands against the counter, wiggling your ass as a hint for him to invite himself inside, making him give you a smile.

He starts off slow, eventually ramming his dick inside after the first few thrust—making you let out a loud moan—quickly covering your mouth with his two hands while he keeps going, you arch your back so he can get a deeper angle inside you.

“Does that feel good enough for you to shut up?” Geto questions, removing one of his hands from your face to lift your leg to reach your g-spot. You nod your head and look over to Gojo, who was smiling the entire time.

“So much attitude just to be thrown out once we give attention, such a jealous baby…” He says while watching you fuck yourself onto Geto. You couldn’t hold it any longer, “s-shit! I’m gonna come!”

“Let go for me, baby…” he whispers into your ear while putting some of your hair that got in the way being your ear, rocking his hips deeper into you. You feel a tight knot on your stomach, melting into his touch and pulling him in for a kiss.

[bluetimeombre]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

[strang3lov3]

The First Taste

Roman offers you money if you just let him put the tip in. Just the tip, that's all (it's not all).

Tags - smut, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, virginity kink, big dick roman roy, dare i call that cock gargantuan, ludicrously capacious, even? Unprotected piv, fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, hand jobs, nipple stim, just the tip (it’s never just the tip) dubcon, manipulation, deception, coercion, betrayal, Roman solicits sex from reader and is also insensitive about stds, pay him no mind. I made myself soaking wet every day while writing this so. Do what you will with that information. 5.8k words. A/N - This is just...smut. Beginning to end. I’m gonna be working on stepdaddy after this, probably write a stepdaddy sick fic cuz I feel kinda like shit. Kisses to all yall sluts 😘

Finally, some fucking quiet. For now. 

The couple in the hotel room next to yours has been going at it all night, a marathon of fucking. Endless moans, rhythmic squeaking of the bed becoming louder and faster, then quieter and slower. This couple makes you wonder if their room is the honeymoon suite or something, the way they’re fucking like a couple of newly-wed bunnies. You rest against the plush headboard, closing your stinging eyes momentarily. 

You dipped from the wedding an hour or so ago, maybe closer to two hours at this point. It’s about midnight now. You’re alone in your room, crinkling the once neatly made bedding as you play a dumb little game on your phone. Your mind wanders as you mindlessly tap the screen, thinking about what the couple next door is doing. What he’s doing to her, what she’s doing to him. How good it all feels, probably. You wonder what it’s like. 

Knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock–

Roman. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to know it’s him. Nobody else knocks like that, and nobody else would show up at your door at this particular hour. You sigh as you get out of bed, taking heavy steps toward the door before opening it. 

“Evening, sexpot. You have something of mine and I’d like it back, please and thank you.” 

Roman’s still wearing the outfit he wore during the wedding, though missing his suit jacket and tie. The sleeves of his white button down shirt are rolled above his elbows, there’s an extra button undone. Once neatly slicked back, his hair is now disheveled, a few loose strands falling over his eyebrows. His eyes are half-lidded, lips curled into that smug, casual, infuriatingly handsome smirk he always wears. He looks gorgeous. 

“I do?” you ask, thinking before remembering quickly. “Oh, shit. Yeah, I do.” You open the door wider and make space to allow him to follow behind you, Roman first closing the door. You unplug his charger from the wall outlet and wrap the cord in a figure-eight around your fingers, some habit you’re not sure where or when you picked up. Roman holds out his hand and you place the charger in his palm. “So is the wedding finally over?”

“Mhm. You vanished on me, though, Cinderella. I thought I’d get at least a dance out of you but you stood me up, you heartbreaker, you. Felt like a virgin on prom night,” Roman laments with a dramatic flair, no real hurt in his tone. “But I’ll live. Me and some bridesmaid-chick totally dry humped on the dance floor, so it all worked out.”

You know he’s teasing, probably lying. Embellishing the truth. But it makes you squirm just the same, and you’re not totally sure why. You could be a little jealous, maybe. But there’s another reason, too.

“Anyway, uh. Thanks. I’ll leave you to it,” Roman says, toying with the charger cord. 

“No, thank you. Came in hand–” 

“Oh, fuck, like that. Just like that, harder, harder, fuck, ohhhh!” 

You’re interrupted by the sounds of your temporary neighbor’s moans that you’ve become very well-acquainted with. “Oh my god,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. 

Roman’s lips curl into an even wider smile, his eyes lighting up as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, nice!” he says, giggling, “Man. That’s awesome. Lucky you, with your front row seat to the show. Maybe there’s a hole in the wall behind this mirror or something. You should see if you can watch.”

“They’ve been going at it for hours,” you deadpan. 

Roman nods in approval, that big, stupid smile still on his lips. “Awh, fuck yeah. Good for them. You should ask to join. We both could, actually. Let’s go knock.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea, even knowing Roman’s not serious. Probably not serious, at least. Roman notices this, takes mental notes of your flustered expression, how you look anywhere but at him. The shifting of your feet, the unnecessary movements your body makes as you squirm. “Ahh, too shy. I get it,” Roman says. “So you’re just - you’re…what, jerking off to it in here, all by your lonesome? Fuck, did I interrupt? How rude, let me get out–”

“No!”

“No? You want me to stay?”

“No - you - I–” you huff, closing your eyes as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. “I meant that I’m not…you know. Doing that.”

Roman’s eyes sparkle. “It’s okay, you can admit it. I know you ladies are more, you know - audio than visual.” He wiggles his fingers by his ears as he paces slowly around the room, inspecting the slice of cake you brought back with you from the wedding, swiping a bit of frosting off the plate with his finger before sucking on it.

“Stop it, Roman.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a while, if you don’t mind. Listen to the music.”

“Whatever, knock yourself out. I’m not sleeping as long as they’re still doing it.” 

True to his word, Roman listens intently to the sounds of the couple fucking. You wouldn’t expect anything else from him. He makes little faces of intrigue or surprise at the noises, the extra loud moans or the occasional smack. You regret allowing him to stay. This is so fucking awkward, so you distract yourself by tidying up your already-pristine hotel room. Rearranging some glasses that haven’t been touched, then pouring yourself another glass of water even though you’re not actually thirsty. Roman notices all of this, too. At some point his attention shifts from the muffled noises coming from the other side of the wall to you, how you nervously flit around the room. He decides to up the tension, to make it all worse for you.

“We should fuck,” he says plainly. “You know, louder than them. Establish our dominance. There’s a bed right there.” 

It takes you a second to reply. “Funny,” is all you say, your voice coming out quietly and not very confident. Fuck. 

“You’re very shy about it, you know that?”

“Shy about what?”

“Oh, fucking - c’mon. You know what,” he deadpans. “Sex! Coitus. Fornicating. Love mak–”

“No, yeah. I got it–”

“Fucking,” Roman interrupts. “So why are you all shy about it?”

“I’m not - I’m not shy,” you stutter.

“But you are. Because you don’t talk about it, ever. You like, clam up, get all fuckin’ weird and quiet,” Roman says, gesturing to you. “And like right now, you won’t even look at me. It’s almost like you’re nervous or something. Are you?” he pauses, “Nervous, that is?”

You’re feeling defensive now, cornered, as Roman’s wedged himself deep under your skin. “No, I just - what does it matter, Roman?” you snap. Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cross your arms. 

“I just wanna know, that’s all. Just curious,” he replies, tempering his tone to be much less pointed, less mocking. “You know me. No judgement here.”

“I just…don’t feel the need to talk about it, I guess.”

“You can’t even say it,” Roman digs, crossing his arms. “Are you a prude? Is that it?”

“No, Roman, I’m not a prude. It’s just a very personal thing for some people.”

“Naturally.”

“Not that you’d understand,” you bite.

Roman presses a hand against his chest, pretending you’ve just shot him. “Ouch. But yeah, no, I get it.” Roman pauses, then joins you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Is it herpes?” he whispers. “It’s herpes, isn’t it? You know, there’s no shame in it. I’ve actually created new strains of STDs myself in the course of all of my sexcapades. And look at me, I’m not ashamed,” he smiles, stifling a giggle at his own joke.

“If that’s true, Roman, you really should be. And don’t be facetious. That’s not something to laugh about.”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he concedes, the apology devoid of any sincerity at all. “So are you saving it for marriage, then? Gonna give Mr. Right your most precious gift?”

You freeze then. Roman’s getting warmer, burning hot. It’s not the truth, but it’s not…not…the truth. An inch away from uncovering your big secret, that you’re a virgin. Never had sex, not once. 

It must be written all over your face in big, bolded letters or something, because Roman’s face twists in realization. His eyes are sparkling, jaw dropped in an open, wry smile. “Holy fuck,” he scoffs. “You’re shitting me. Virgin?! You’re a virgin? Oh my god, gross. Ew,” he laughs, turning your cheek to force you to look at him. 

It makes you feel bad inside. Insecure. Your bottom lip quivers a little as tears well up in your eyes, that awful feeling of embarrassment taking over every one of your senses. Face hot, ears pounding, the walls closing in. “Roman,” you whisper, tilting your chin down to hide yourself.

“Hey - heyyy. Don’t fuckin’...don’t be like that,” he says, tilting your face back up. Roman laughs, then makes a sympathetic expression as he pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you in a tight hug. Some of your tears soak the collar of his shirt as he presses your face into his shoulder. “I’m very sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I took it too far, that’s on me. I’m sorry. Hey–” Roman nuzzles your hair, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

You don’t say anything. You’re too pissed to speak but even if you weren’t, you’re not sure that you could conjure up any sort of response to…whatever the fuck just happened.

“It’s not so terrible, being a virgin.” Roman offers, rubbing your back soothingly as he kisses the top of your head. “There’s worse things to be.” 

“Yeah? Like what?” you ask, voice muffled as you mumble into his shirt. 

“Like…fuckin’ dead, I guess.” Roman thinks for a second, “Or ugly. And you’re not that, so…”

“Thanks, Rome,” you reply flatly. 

“And guys like virgins,” he adds. “Like, do you know how much some creeps would pay to fuck virgin pussy?”

“Uhh…”

“Millions. They’d pay millions,” Roman says, taking note of how your ears perk up at the statement, the incredulous look you give him. “Yeah, now that’s interesting to you, isn’t it? Shit, I’d pay you for it. Let’s skip the middleman, huh?”

“What? No.” You pull away from Roman’s arms. 

“Yes. Why not?”

Why not? Just the littlest amount of pushback from Roman and you’re already questioning the lines you’ve drawn in the sand for yourself. For a moment, you contemplate the idea of having sex with Roman, and you’re tempted - his naked body on yours, pleasuring you in a way you’ve never felt at the hands of someone else before, his attention all on you. His perfect, soft lips on yours as he swallows your moans, loving you the way you deserve. But ultimately you decide no, it’s not happening. It can’t happen. Not like how he’s suggesting. He doesn’t have the capacity to handle something like this with any amount of respect or tact.

“I don’t know, Roman. I guess that I always envisioned my first time having sex being with someone that I love. Or trust, at the very least.” 

“And you don’t trust me?”

You scoff “Fuck, no.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” Roman nods. “Okay, fine. I won’t pressure you. You save that special little gift of yours for someone who deserves it.” 

You nod as you look down at the floor, tracing the pattern in the carpet with your eyes, gasping when you feel Roman touch your bare knee. “Or…” he murmurs.

“Or?”

Roman’s had the idea of screwing you in his head for a while now, and by his own admission, is especially turned on at the prospect of being the first one to fuck you. It fills him with a primal sort of feeling, knowing that at least for a moment, you’d be his. Your first lover’s name you’d moan would be his, your first orgasm at the hands of another will belong to him only, forever. There’s something about taking your virginity that fills him with a sickening, all-consuming sort of need. He’ll do it, too. By any means necessary.    

“Just the tip,” he whispers, his warm hand sliding up your thigh to toy with the edge of your pajama shorts. He wriggles them even higher, not stopping even when you hold your breath and grab his wrist to keep him from traveling further. “Chill. I’m not doing anything,” Roman mumbles, sliding his hand out from under yours to take your hand and put it flat on the bed. He holds your thigh again and speaks slowly, quietly, “You just let me put the tip in and I’ll pay you the same. Whatever - whatever fuckin’ number you want, alright? Put however many zeroes at the end, and it’s yours…if you just let me put the tip in. Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Just the tip,” you repeat quietly, thinking…thinking that it sounds like bullshit, and yet, you’re kind of falling for it anyway. He makes you feel stupid, even when he’s not insulting you.

Roman speaks again before you can talk yourself out of it. “Just the tip,” he lies. “So long as I don’t - you know, fully penetrate you - technically, you’d still be a virgin by the end of our little thing.”

“You’re saying it wouldn’t count?” 

Roman nods his head. “Wouldn’t count at all. It’s…a loophole of sorts,” he says, tracing his fingertips up and down your thigh, inching closer and closer to where he wants to feel you the most. “Virginity stays intact. C’mon,” he urges.

You’re fighting yourself. Roman can see the temptation and the self-preservation fighting each other in your mind, and he can’t let the smarter, safer side of you win this. 

“You’ve got nothing to lose,” he adds. And he’d get to satisfy a curiosity, but that’s not something he needs to tell you. 

“I don’t know, Rome. It - something about it makes me nervous.”

“I know. But I’ll be gentle with you, alright? I’ll take it nice and fuckin’ slow, walk you through the whole thing. No surprises.” Roman shifts a little and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, then pulls out a stack of bills, all hundreds, and places them on your nightstand. “There. Call it a fuckin’...deposit or whatever, I don’t know. Now do we have a deal or not, virgin?”

You bite your lip as you think - or do something resembling thinking, rather. You can’t think clearly, not with Roman’s hands now on your waist. He doesn’t have to touch you anywhere private or sensitive - just his hands on your body is enough to make your brain fucking melt, you poor thing. Don’t even know how badly you need it, need him. Roman will make it all better. Fix you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. He presses a couple of kisses against the side of your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his tongue as he licks you there. You let out a broken moan in response, nodding urgently. Roman smiles against your skin in satisfaction. “Attagirl,” he murmurs, then pulls away from you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted. Perfect. 

He dims the lamps around the room and turns off the overhead lights, casting the room in a warm, orange glow before joining you on the bed again. “Let’s fuckin’ do this thing. You ready?”

“I don’t - I don’t -”

Roman calms you down before you spiral. “Shh, relax. Relax. We’re going slow, like I said,” he reminds you. “God, you’re so fuckin’...c’mere.” 

Roman puts both of his strong hands on your face, thumbs on your jaw, the rest of his fingers firmly pressing into your neck. He pulls you close and kisses you, and his lips feel even better than they look. You let out a little noise that Roman doesn’t acknowledge; he only continues to move his lips tenderly against yours, deepening the kiss when you begin to reciprocate. 

He’s an excellent kisser. The way he uses his tongue makes you feel dizzy and sets your whole body on fire, and you feel his hands everywhere. Your face, your neck, your waist, digging his fingers into you and squeezing you like he loves you. “Gimme these.” Roman takes your hands in his own and puts them on his own shoulders, his silent way of showing you how it all should be done as he inches closer to you. 

He’s warm, warmer than you imagined. Warm in a comforting way. He smells so…him. Slightly sweaty, but not in a bad way, with his cologne worn down to its base notes. He tastes good, but you couldn’t even begin to describe. You’d be content with just this tonight, really. 

Roman deepens the kiss and lays you down gently, caging you in with his body. You’re still feeling out of your depth, unsure of where or how or if you should even touch him, though Roman doesn’t seem to mind. Of course he doesn’t mind. He’s got only one thing on his brain, and that’s ruining you. Touch him however you like or don’t touch him, he doesn’t give a fuck. 

His fingers crawl beneath your shirt, climbing up your body until he’s squeezing gently at the flesh of your breasts. You gasp when he rubs his thumb in circles over your nipple, feeling it harden with his touch. “Rome-” you breathe, clutching his bicep. 

“It’s okay,” he tells you, repeating the action with your other nipple, causing you to writhe beneath him. “I gotta get you ready for it, sweetheart.”

Roman pushes your shirt up as high as it’ll go, and kisses your neck, dragging his tongue down your skin. He uses the muscle to tease one of your nipples, putting to use his lips and teeth as well. His hands travel down your body, fingers passing over the neat little bow at the front of your pajama bottoms as they slide down towards your center.

You gasp when you feel him touch you there, just over the fabric. Roman groans as he rubs his fingers, feeling how you’ve soaked yourself. “Yeah, you weren’t fuckin’ lying, were you? Made a goddamn mess down here,” he mumbles, pressing little kisses against your neck. 

“Lying about what?” you breathe.

Roman has to stifle his laugh so as not to embarrass you, but you are such a cliche, absolutely drenched from a bit of kissing. Too easy. “Shh, nothing,” he says. “Nothing. You’re fine.” Roman pulls your panties and shorts to the side, exposing your cunt to himself. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm.”

Roman only nods as pulls your thighs apart, and your heart pounds hard. He traces your lips only momentarily before diving between your folds, feeling the pool of arousal he’s caused. 

“Fuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as you arch into his touch. “R-Roman, Roman…”

“Ohh, man, you’re sensitive,” Roman laughs quietly, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. “Holy fuck. That feel good? Huh, virgin?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, squeezing his forearm and bicep with your hands as if to anchor yourself or something. You feel like you’re gonna break. Everything feels heightened, but sort of sharp and fuzzy at the same time. Your head spins, and you can’t keep track of your thoughts. 

You whine when Roman pushes his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out slowly. “How does that feel?” he asks.

“Good, kinda - uh…kind - kind of hurts.”

“You gotta relax,” he tells you, “ It’s okay.”  

Roman shifts a little and smiles at you before curling his fingers, stroking that special, sensitive little place deep inside your cunt you’ve probably never found on your own before. By the way your eyes roll back into your head and how you squeeze your legs shut around his arm, Roman guesses he’s right. “Oh my - fuck, Rome, that - you–” Your voice comes out in broken, breathy moans and you don’t bother finishing your sentence. All you can do is bury your face into his neck and try not to shatter into a million pieces. 

Roman fingers you like that for a minute or two longer, listening to those wet noises your cunt makes for him, then slows down his movements before pulling away. “You’re ready for it,” he tells you.

“I am?”

“Absolutely.” 

Roman leans back and sits you up, then pulls off your shirt without saying so much as a single word. He does the same to your shorts and panties, tossing them into a crumpled pile on the carpet. The way you squirm and hide yourself makes Roman smile. “Don’t be shy. I need to be able to see what I’m working with, right?”

“Yeah, no. That makes sense.”

“Hold on.” Roman unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, pulling off his undershirt too. His bulge is sizable in his black slacks, and when he unbuckles his belt and pulls the rest of his clothes off, his hard cock slapping against his tummy, your eyes widen. His dick is massive. The tip reaches his belly button, and it’s curved beautifully, slightly to the right. Roman wraps his fingers around it and squeezes, knuckles whitening a little.

“Y-you’re fucking huge,” you stutter.

“I know, right? It’s Roman Roy’s best kept secret.” He smiles wide, pleased with himself as he winks at you. “Alright. Spread those legs and let’s fuckin’ party.” Roman reaches for your ankles and pulls them apart, eyebrows raising when you fight to keep them closed. 

“No! No, don’t.”

“...No?” Roman drops your ankles and sits back, eyeing you. “Scared?”

“Very.” 

He chuckles. “You’ve never even felt a cock before, have you?” Roman asks, stroking his cock slowly. You shake your head and he nods in understanding. “Wow, it really is all new to you. That’s my bad, sweetheart.” 

Roman lays down next to you again, this time flat on his back. He shifts a little and grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. “Get to know it a little. Just touch it, however you want,” he instructs. Roman waits for you to touch him, but you’re frozen. He raises an eyebrow, “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“I know, I just don’t know…don’t know what to do.”

Roman says nothing, only presses your fingertips against the large, blunt head of his cock. “Like this,” he says, dragging your fingers down his shaft. He wraps your fingers around his length, then lets you go. Your turn.

You slide your palm up and down his dick, just…taking it all in. His cock feels heavy in your hand which doesn’t surprise you, but you’re struck by his warmth, the heat radiating from him. You trace his veins, then squeeze him slightly in your fist, feeling him throb a little. 

Roman patiently lets you explore, despite it being an excruciating tease, groaning softly as he tilts his head back. “Now when you do this for real, with your Mr. Right or whoever,” Roman says, “Don’t just tease him like this. You’ll piss him off,” he warns.

“I will?”

“Oh yeah. No, you’re even pissing me off a little bit. Like, if this weren’t a teaching moment, I’d fuck you in two for this shit.” Roman words scare you a bit, and you stop touching him. “Relax, will you? It’s not gonna happen. You’re in good hands.” 

“Okay.”

“Let me show you what to do instead.” Roman takes your hand again, this time spitting in it. “You grab it like you mean it,” he says, wrapping your fingers tightly around his cock, tighter than you would have done yourself. “And–” Roman slides your palm up and down his length, helping you to maintain that firm pressure, “You go all the way up, all the way down. Like - fuck - yeah, like that. You’re a fuckin’ natural, virgin, look at you.”

Roman lets you work him on your own, simply enjoying the feel of your hand on his cock. He thinks it’s cute when you circle his tip with your fingers - it’s not something he taught you to do, but he doesn’t mind it. 

“Does this feel like, good?”

“Feels awesome. But,” Roman purrs, “You know what’d feel even better?”

“What?”

“You gotta be brave, sweetheart. Do you want to be brave for me?”

You’re not feeling very brave or adventurous but you nod a little anyway, and Roman jumps at the opportunity. He moves you down the bed, sitting you down between his thighs that are spread wide. “You’re gonna suck my dick,” he tells you, grabbing your face with one of his hands. “Don’t freak out, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Open your mouth.” 

Roman holds his thick cock between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He taps the head against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open wider. When you open your mouth more, Roman lowers your head and fits himself between your lips, simply letting you get used to the feeling of him there. It takes a lot of patience on his part, to not fuck your mouth here and now. 

You’re not sure what to do, and Roman knows this. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he bounces your head just a little on his cock, your tongue sliding over his weeping slit. The taste of his precome surprises you - it’s a salty, warm, masculine sort of flavor that you don’t really mind. You’re pleased by how soft his skin feels, how he smells. Gaining confidence, you take him deeper into your mouth.

If Roman were a better man, he’d stop you - he’d warn you that you’re going to choke on his cock, that it’s gonna be too much too quickly. But that’s not Roman, not by a long shot. He inches you further down his cock with each bob of your head, grinning at the way you gurgle and sputter a little. “Little more,” he says. “Keep going.”

Cock in mouth, drool dripping down your chin, you look at Roman, searching for some sort of approval or encouragement. “You got it. And use your tongue, sweetheart. You can make a mess on me. You should, actually.”

You move your tongue in inconsistent patterns, swirling it around his length as Roman moves your head. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructs. “You’re doing so well.”

 He lets out soft little groans and his eyes shut for a moment, lips parted. Saliva is running down his cock and your jaw is beginning to ache from his girth, but Roman ignores your noises of discomfort and the tears in your eyes. He fucks himself deeply into your mouth, pushing you far past the point he should. Then suddenly, you gag and cough harshly, pulling yourself off of him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you spit.

Roman rubs your back and stretches across the bed, reaching for your glass of water. “You’re good, you’re alright,” he says, pressing the glass against your lips. “Have some water. You’re not supposed to take me all at once, virgin. That’s how you choke,” he taunts.  

After finishing the water, Roman takes your glass and sets it back on the nightstand. “Alright. Back to you, sweetheart. Lie back and spread your legs for me.” 

You tremble a little as you lie down, parting your legs only a little. You feel the bed shift with Roman’s moving weight and close your eyes, nervously anticipating the inevitable. 

Roman pushes your knees toward your chest and lowers himself, smirking at how tense you look with your short breaths, your fingers fidgeting with the comforter. He could warn you of what’s to come with a couple of kisses pressed against your inner thighs, but it’ll be more fun to surprise you. 

He licks your sex from bottom to top with a flat tongue, dragging it slowly through your folds. “Roman,” you gasp, hands darting for his head. You tangle your fingers in the sleek strands of his hair, tugging on them tightly. “You - you’re–”

“Shh,” he interrupts. His stubble scratches your inner thighs as he teases you, tongue circling your clit. Roman buries himself in that softest and most private place on your body, rubbing the tip of his perfect nose against your clit as he tastes you. He circles your entrance a couple of times before dipping inside, tasting your arousal right from the hole it trickles from. 

You’re babbling incoherently, whimpering his name as he then drags his tongue up and down your folds. He circles your clit once, then twice, then pulls the hood back and laves over the sensitive bud repeatedly, forcing you to lie still with a strong hand holding you down. He savors you like this, how you shudder and shake, muscles tensing as you fight to close your legs, not used to a feeling so intense. Roman fucks you with his tongue, guiding you through the first orgasm you’ve ever shared with another as you gush into his mouth, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

When Roman pulls away, you feel like you could cry. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling and try to will away that pressure building behind your eyes, but it’s hard. You wonder if Roman notices. 

“Now you’re really fuckin’ ready,” he tells you. 

“Okay,” you breathe, voice shaking. “Just the tip?”

“Mhm. Just the tip,” Roman confirms. He hovers over you and reaches between your legs to gather your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your slick. When he presses the thick head of his dick against your pussy, your heart races. You can’t conjure the words to tell him what you need, and urgently take his free hand in yours. 

“You wanna hold my hand?” Roman smirks and laces his fingers between yours, pinning your hand against the bed. “We can hold hands, sweetheart.” And then, in one swift, brutal motion, Roman fully buries his cock fully inside you. 

It sends you reeling. He’s so huge, it feels like he’s splitting you in two. You feel betrayed and try to squirm away, but Roman forces you to stay down with a hand on your ribcage. Forces you to take it, to feel it all. “Shhh, shh. You’re - hey - you’re fine.” Roman catches the free hand you use to try and shove him backwards and pins it to the bed with the other. 

“Y-you–” you sob, unable to form a sentence. 

“Ohhh, I know, I know, I know,” Roman coos mockingly. “I played a dirty trick on you, huh? Wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”

You look at Roman and cry, tears falling down your temples and into your hair. With his hand still clutching yours, he uses your own knuckles to wipe some tears away. “Poor thing. You’ll get used to it.” 

“But you said–”

“I know what I said,” Roman interrupts. “It’s never just the tip, baby, you know that. Or–” Roman pauses, thrusting into you deeply, “Maybe you really don’t know that. But this is real life, sweetheart. It’s a cruel fuckin’ world out there.” 

Roman sets a pace then, drawing in and out of you. Not particularly harshly or quickly, because the penetration alone hurts enough. He rocks his hips, pulling out of you and filling you up all the way with every stroke. 

“Roman, stop–”

“No. Fucking take it.”   

Roman ignores your sounds of discomfort, going so far as to cover your mouth instead. Your sobs are muffled under his palm, skin dampening with tears and saliva. Roman builds the tempo, lips curled into that awful, lopsided smile. “Listen to yourself. You’re fuckin’ soaked, do you hear that?” he taunts through a strained breath. 

The pain is utterly blinding, until it isn’t. You almost resent the way the hurt is replaced with pleasure now, because the betrayal is still there. Betrayal by Roman, and now by your own body. This…this isn’t what you were promised. You trusted Roman and he exploited that, but you’re fucking enjoying it.

Roman’s palm tastes salty over your mouth. When he removes it, a moan slips past your lips, and Roman grins. “Yeah, there it is. Not so terrible, huh, baby?”

You free your hands from his grip and wrap your arms around his shoulders, which is the only thing that feels right. You don’t entirely know why, you just know that you need him close. Roman pulls back a little to watch you, his greenish, hazel eyes darkened with something primal as he pulls out of you and pushes into you, again and again and again. You bury your face in his neck as he fucks you, and one of his hands slide up your torso to grope your breast and tease your nipple.

“Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” Roman grunts, rutting his hips into you. He’s in love with all of this, in truth. Addicted. How soft your body is for him, for his hands to squeeze and his fingers to dig into. He could fucking eat you. 

He fits his hand between your bodies, the heel of his palm pressing into your pubic bone. He rubs your clit in circles, thrusting into you harder, faster, deeper. “Look at me. Right here” he pants, using his free hand to hold your face. “Come on my cock. Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pulls your orgasm from you effortlessly. Roman’s name spills from your lips in choking sobs as you come on his cock, feeling impossibly full as your cunt pulses around him. It’s the heaviest, most overwhelming feeling, washing over you in waves, muscles spasming and twitching. Roman’s thrusts turn frenzied and frantic, and there it is - he’s coming too. Milking himself inside you, spurting thick, hot ropes of his come, and you take all of it. 

Roman pulls out of you then, and uses two fingers to push his escaped spend back inside your poor, raw, throbbing cunt. This time, you do cry. “Ohh, come here,” Roman says softly. He scoops you up into his arms and holds you tightly, stroking your hair. “You okay?”

“No,” you sniffle. 

“No?” Roman repeats, momentarily moving you to lean over the bed. He reaches for his pants and grabs his phone out of the pocket, then takes his place next to you again, pulling you into his side tightly. “You’ll get over it. Watch,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and opening Venmo. He pulls up your profile and shows you the screen, the little blue cursor blinking. You type in a number, then give the phone back to Roman, who adds an extra zero before tapping Pay.

If you enjoyed, please lmk ♡ i love when you reblog and send me asks. It means the world to me ♡

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@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@/perpetuallymanic @/111melo @/veryverycoolgirl @/marisemonteiroo

[joelsdagger]

talking body || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3 | tlou is created by a zionist and tlou2 is based on the Israeli occupation on Palestine, this article expands on that info. pls visit these links to help.

pairing: joel miller x curvy f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

word count: 7.5k (dear god)

summary:  joel doesn’t hesitate to show you just how crazy he is about you. content warnings: jackson era, canon divergent, established relationship, unspecified age gap, (joel is late 50’s/pushing 60 & reader is whatever age you like her to be), fatphobic/misogynistic comments from a male oc, mentions of body insecurities, a little bit of jealousy (from reader), [internal] angst (feelings of guilt & shame), reader wears a form–fitting dress, joel gets handsy, body worship, pet names (sweetheart, darlin’, baby, pretty girl), brief vaginal fingering, biting, body marking, praise kink, sprinkle of degradation, 1 pussy slap, dirty talk (or as kat put it; joel miller and that FUCKING MOUTH), oral sex (f receiving), mild ass play, unprotected piv, rough sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, possessive!joel, pussy pronouns, creampie, fluff, joel just being such a sweetheart but also an absolute menace UGH, game!joel or show!joel, reader is curvy and can be interpreted as being mid/plus sized, but other than that no other physical descriptions of reader and no use of y/n.

a/n:  this is completely self indulgent and i love doing shit out of spite so naturally i wrote this cuz of all the shit i’ve been seeing these past few weeks. also, this is me pushing the agenda that game!joel is a hips guy and show!joel is an ass guy, so i mixed a little bit of both in here bc i can. to everyone with thick thighs, squishy bellies, big tits, hip dips, and every thing in between i see you, i love you (so does joel), and he would fuck your brains out, he told me himself :3  thank you to my loves @skrunkly-scrimblo & @phoeberidgers for being my second and third eyes & helping my indecisive ass with the visuals (and for always putting up with me) ily both sm <3 | dividers by @saradika-graphics

oh! masterlist is coming in a few days (i’m sorry, i’ve been putting it off)

Joel’s still sitting at the table with Tommy and Maria when Dina cuts into your path as you approach the bar, you were getting refills for your table. Dina drags you along behind her to the open space where a few other Jackson residents are dancing, she points out that you still haven’t delivered on your promise to dance with her. You playfully roll your eyes as she tugs you along, you don’t really mind, you’re the type to drink and dance the night away whenever you and Joel joined your fellow Jackson residents at The Tipsy Bison, letting out all the stress and worries that had built up from days prior and tonight was one of those nights, you endured a long, shitty, fucking week. 

One dance had turned into two which turned into three and very quickly you felt the overwhelming sense of heat from the lights and the alcohol running through your system warming up your body an ungodly amount. It didn’t help that the short, tight dress you were wearing was beginning to ride up your thighs and the thin fabric on your stomach clinging to your sticky skin as sweat started to pool in places you didn’t quite like. 

You take advantage of the song coming to an end and spin out of the dance before someone ropes you back in, tugging the hemline of your dress down while you make your way to the bar to finally order refills for your table.  As you wait for the bartender to come out from the back, you turn around to watch the rest of Jackson’s residents while they drink, dance, and laugh through the night, a smile tugs on your lips as you briefly spot Dina now dragging Ellie to the small open space. You continue glancing over the room, it was busier than usual though still expected, gatherings during the fall and winter months tended to occur more often, the cold weather gives people a reason to spend more time indoors, alcohol and loud music helps keep bodies warm and memories faded away. Nights like these are needed in Jackson. 

Your gaze eventually lands on your table, seeing a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman standing in front of Joel, you know exactly who it is…Esther. You’re not surprised, she’s been after Joel for years, completely disregarding your relationship with him. You don’t blame her, Joel’s one hell of a man but you can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach when you see a smile on his face as he cracks a laugh at her joke, she playfully smacks his arm in return and you avert your eyes to scan the crowd once again. 

You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, Joel’s a gentleman, always polite and charming, he plays along as to not embarrass her. 

 So why does it bother you? 

You feel stupid, again you can’t blame her, but then your eyes trail down her body, she’s got a few years on you but she doesn’t look it. From what you can tell, her body has remained the same since the day you met her. 

Yours, on the other hand, has slightly changed to a noticeable degree, as you settled into Jackson as well as your relationship with Joel. Your breasts spill over the cups of a few older bras, you have a softer tummy that protrudes out in form–fitting clothes like right now and your thighs and ass fill your jeans out a bit more. It’s a dull feeling now, not really paying it any mind anymore, you were more aware of it at first, but occasionally, moments like this remind you of the changes in your body. 

His body has deliciously changed with age; his hair now suitably silver, though the gray patches of hair spanning across his chest and down his belly don’t quite match the hair on his scalp.  When he lifts his arms just enough his soft belly peeks out, perfectly protruding just above the waistband of his jeans. He’s insecure about it, his age more apparent when you’re beside him, not that he’d ever really admit that to you, but you picked up on it pretty quickly when he started opting for loose fitting button downs and jeans, but he clearly still has an effect on women. 

With you it’s just….different. 

Feeling the heat of a stare on you and knowing who it’s from, you glance back at Joel, your gaze landing on his face again, you can see his face more clearly now, Esther’s still talking to him, yet his attention isn’t on her, his eyes are trained on you and you’re met with an expression of hunger on his face. His eyes steadily rake down your body, feasting on the tight material clinging to your sticky skin, they pause and for a fleeting moment he fixates on your exposed thighs, his eyes trail back up to your chest, and as he lifts up the glass of whiskey he’s been nursing to his mouth, you catch his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a long sip of his whiskey. 

The faint buzz from the alcohol emboldens you and you wink back at him. 

No longer giving those feelings a second thought you turn back around and try to wave down the bartender. 

“Another round, please.” 

“Sure thing, sweets.”

He turns away to grab your drinks, your ears perk up when you hear someone say your name, you turn your head towards the voice, noticing a few men sitting at the edge of the bar. You recognize one of them, a younger man, who happened to be your old patrol partner and your last fling.

Naturally, you eavesdrop on their conversation. Matt’s back is to you when you hear it. 

“She’s not in her prime, you should’ve seen her a few years ago,” he sneers.

His words pierce through you, you know exactly what he’s getting at, it stings even when you know it shouldn’t, it festers.

A man you’re not familiar with, probably the newbie, stands further away, he opens his mouth to speak but you can’t hear what he’s saying, the music is too loud and you have to fight the urge to look directly at him so you can read his lips, but he says something that earns a few snickers out of the men surrounding him. 

The shame coils and pulls taut in your stomach, twisting, pulling, scraping so tight it makes you dizzy and nauseous.

You don’t even realize your drinks had been placed on the bartop in front of you, Matt’s irritating voice cuts in and holds your attention, “Can’t believe a man like Joel is still with her. No real man can fuck women who look like that and enjoy it,” he says simply. 

The shame turns to rage and your blood boils, you feel your cheeks heating up as anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, the blinding rage looms over you and your feet move without thinking. You begin to step forward but for the second time that night your movements are interrupted, you hear her voice before she’s in front of you. 

“You ditched us to grab drinks and yet we never got them,” Maria teases.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” you look away from the group of men and back at Maria, flashing her a smile, a little forced.  

“Figured. Joel’s been eyeing you while you were dancing, I told him to join you but we both know he prefers admiring you,” she says, redrawing your attention by tilting her head into your line of sight.  

She beckons you with a jerk of her head, “C’mon, your man gets grumpy when you’re away,” she says with a comforting smile. As the two of you grab the whiskey filled glasses, she hooks her arm through yours and walks you back to the table. 

Joel pulls open your chair next to him, you sit down and silently hand him his whiskey, the anger fizzling out as soon as you’re beside him though the knot of shame still tight in the pit of your stomach. He senses something is off immediately, your behavior wildly different than twenty or so minutes before. 

“Thanks, baby,” he says as he watches you intently. 

“Mhm.”

You nod, shooting him a glance before averting your eyes back to a small group of residents dancing. 

Tommy turns his head to ask Maria about the new patrol schedules for the upcoming week, Joel sees it as a window of opportunity, a distraction, so he throws his arm around you and tucks you into his side, just enough for you to smell the whiskey on him, he settles his palm on your stomach, his thumb starts rubbing small circles on your belly through your tight dress, “You okay, darlin’?” he whispers, his whiskey–warm breath against your ear.

“Yup. Just tired,” you say dismissively, trying to keep your voice light, hoping it doesn’t sound as pinched as your throat feels. You press a chaste kiss to the flecks of silver on his temple, attempting to sooth his worries, while internally trying to convince yourself that you’re not giving those assholes too much power over their words, even though you have, it gnaws at you so much it makes your bones itch beneath your skin. 

He catches the deceit in your voice but he drops the subject, knowing not to pry in this moment, “Alright, we'll finish these and head home,” he kisses your forehead before he turns his attention back towards the conversation. 

—

Joel kept on his word, the two of you leaving the gathering once you knocked back the rest of your drinks. However, finishing off your drinks meant the two of you were in a tipsy state and Joel’s insatiable when he’s got alcohol buzzing in his system. As soon as he closes the bedroom door behind him, he instantly pins you up against the door and presses his lips to yours, his mouth swallowing yours while his hands run greedily all over your body, grabbing and squeezing every part of you.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he says while he nuzzles his head in the deep groove of your cleavage, he nips lightly before leaving open–mouthed kisses to the exposed skin, his big hands come up to cup your breasts, your nipples peaked and hard beneath the thin fabrics of your dress and your bra.

“Fuck–” your whimper is cut off when Joel drags his lips back up to connect with yours, you hum as you taste his flavour, all oak and masculine and campfire like with a hint of spice from the whiskey.  He moans as he licks his tongue into your mouth, one hand squeezes the weight of your breast while the other glides around to your back, pulling you closer. Joel always gets like this after a few drinks; it’s always heady, needy, sloppy like it is now. He kisses you with so much want and desire it makes your brain all foggy and your skin flare, forgetting the moment that threw off your mood.

That is until Joel’s hands make their way down your front, palming your tummy softly, one hand reaches under the hem of your short dress to cup your mound and the memory claws its way back to the surface, Matt’s words echo in your mind. 

You tear your lips away from his and plaster on a tight smile, knowing your eyes will give you away, you stare at the scar across his nose, “Not tonight, baby,” you whisper, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek and tucking a silver curl behind his ear. 

Though Joel Miller, as always, is on high alert, always studying the people around him, it’s all he’s ever known in his role of a protector. He learnt and memorized all your tells within weeks of knowing you, he doesn’t need to see your eyes to catch on, he senses the hint of sadness in the hushed tone of your voice, the same one he clocked earlier at The Tipsy Bison, he knows you’re holding back. 

“Alright, sweetheart, what’s on your mind?”

You brush past him, walking away and sitting on the bed, “Nothing, I’m fine, I’m just tired,” you say a little too hurriedly, your voice too syrupy-sweet. That’s the third thing that’s tipped him off tonight. He follows you tentatively, sitting beside you placing his hands on your knees and guiding you to face him. 

He assesses your face and sighs, “We’re not gonna do that. You’ve been real quiet and distant most of the night. Darlin’, talk to me,” he hooks a finger underneath your chin and gently tilts your face upwards, forcing you to look at him. 

You shrug heavily, feeling stupid for letting their words sour your mood, but worse for thinking the same about yourself, when you should be grateful. Living, breathing, existing is a privilege, one that not everyone gets, something you and Joel are too familiar with, yet here you are letting dumb comments from even dumber men upset you. The same knot in your stomach from earlier pulls taut once again.

You rip your eyes away from Joel’s, not able to bring yourself to face the troubled look in his eyes. “It's just embarrassing, and I’m ashamed that I let things still get to me,” you admit defeatedly, your voice barely audible. 

“Baby,” he tugs gently on your chin again, “Look at me,” he murmured. 

You blink up at him, forcing yourself to look at him, tears pricking in your eyes when you see the worry line appearing in between his brows and the hues of concern in his eyes once again. He reaches up to gently cradle your face, the contact sends you over the edge and a tear cascades down your cheek, his calloused thumb swipes it away, the turmoil clear as day in his eyes, you hate that you’re the reason for the pained expression on his face. 

“Tell me,” he implored, his voice pinched as he spoke. 

You can feel the walls of your throat constricting and the rapid thump of your pulse right below your jaw as you swallow tightly. Just hearing the hurt in his voice should stop you, should make you drop the whole thing. You think about leaving Matt’s name out of it, just by mentioning that Matt was the one reaffirming your deep-seated insecurities will upset him alone, Joel’s hated the guy since the day he found out you fucked him but leaving his name out of it feels like you're protecting him. 

That coupled with the look of worry on his face, knowing his compulsive need to do right by you but he can’t if you don’t let him, coaxes you to tell him everything.  

Biting the bullet and bracing yourself for impact, you take a deep breath.  

“You know that guy, Matt, that I used to….” you trail off quietly, biting your lip.

His lips downturn into a soft frown and yet he doesn’t respond, just gives you a firm nod. 

You avoid his gaze, picking at the loose skin around your nail, Joel notices and grabs your hands in his. Your eyes stay transfixed on your lap, you sigh deeply, “He said, a man like you shouldn’t be with someone like me, said he doesn’t know how you can fuck me and enjoy it,” another tear spills down your cheek, recounting each of his words feels like hard punches to the gut.  “And then seeing Esther hitting on you again, even though everyone knows we’re together–I know I shouldn’t let it get to me but I can’t help how I feel sometimes,” your voice quavering as you ramble admittedly.

You peer up at him under watery lashes and for a second you can practically see him fighting the urge of storming out of the house and heading back to The Tipsy Bison to find the bastard, you can see it in the flash of anger that spreads across his features, in the twitch of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils as he takes in a sharp breath.   

Instead, he exhales, “Darlin’, there ain’t nothing wrong with you,” he dips his head down so his eyes meet yours, you shrug again. 

“Stop that. You’re perfect honey,” you can hear the sincerity in his voice as he runs his hand along your upper thighs, now exposed as your dress rolled up from your position on the bed.

“I get it darlin’, hell one good look in the mirror n’ I wonder how a pretty thing like yourself could want an old man like me,” he huffs a quiet chuckle. 

You shake your head immediately, “Joel–”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if you need remindin’,” he interjects you, “I have no problem remindin’ you,” he asserts softly, his fingers still tracing up and down your thigh. 

You frown, “I know you don’t Joel, it’s just,” you sigh a shuddering breath, feeling that familiar pang of guilt in your chest, now regretting opening up to him. The heavy stones of guilt and shame weighing you down, threatening to swallow you whole. The last thing he needed was you burdening him with your insecurities, you know him, he’ll dwell on this for days to come, checking in when he feels you pulling away.

“Lemme show you, baby,” he says while softly grabbing your hands, prying them away from your middle. 

“No, Joel–” you began to protest. 

“Need to see my beautiful girl,” he encourages you gently, his hands roam down and pause right below the hem of your dress but he awaits your permission. 

You nod softly and lie back against the headboard, you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the skirt of your dress, shoving up the soft, red material over your waist, revealing your soft, pillowy silhouette.

He hovers over you as he takes his time palming the slopes of your curves, his big hands grab two handfuls of your breasts and squeezes them tightly, lifting the weight of them up and dropping his head down to nip at each breast, then letting them fall and marveling at the bounce of your tits. His hands find your hips, he’s sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan. 

He grips your hips more firmly, almost like you’ll disappear before him if he doesn’t, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, “My sexy girl, fuckin’ can’t get enough of you,” he says lowly, his breath hot against your skin, you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. His mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button, the coarse scruff tickles your skin and you can’t help the giggle it elicits from you. 

He pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, “You drive me crazy, you know that, baby?” He whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.  

Your glassy eyes meet his as your hand comes up to cup his cheek, “I’m pretty crazy about you too, handsome,” you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. He kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, “Turn around for me sweetheart, go on, all fours, need to see all of you,” he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body. 

You do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight. “Good girl,” he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. You playfully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass and he whistles lowly. 

“Look at you, so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, “N’all for me.” 

His fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,  “There's my girl. Always so fuckin’ wet for me, huh?” You hum softly in response. 

The tip of his middle finger pushes past your outer lips and you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress the whimper you let out. You’re already so wet, you’re always so wet and willing for him. It should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it’s him and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly…every single time.  

You risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it’s a mindless, habitual thing for him, like he’s sneaking a taste of his meal before he digs into it. His hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the opaque wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly. 

Your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, “Eyes forward, sweetheart.” You tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms– so pliant and needy for him–he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.  

His hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds, “Look at that, she’s so pretty baby. She’s droolin’ down your pretty legs,” his voice low and deep. 

His words make your pussy throb, you can’t help the whine you let out, “Joel, please.” 

“Please what, pretty girl, use your words,” he commands, his fingers still languidly messaging through your puffy lips, smearing your arousal all over his fingers.   

“I need you, please do anything, please,” you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound. 

But still, not enough for Joel. A loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

He tuts, “You want my cock that bad, baby, I wanna hear you say it.” 

Bastard. 

“Joel please, I want your cock. I want it,” you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

“Okay, alright, baby, s’all I wanted to hear,” he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “I just need to taste her first,” he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, his knees creaking as he kneels on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. He tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss. 

You shiver, you’re aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be. 

Joel’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips. 

Joel seems to have heard it and that’s all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him. 

You push your hips back into his face causing the tip of his nose to nuzzle into your asshole, you feel him hum in approval at your entrance. Suddenly, nothing else matters; the thick fog of insecurity, the crippling shame and guilt sitting heavy in your chest; it all melts away as a fresh wave of sensation courses through you by the warmth of his mouth on your cunt. 

This was always his favorite part, seeking pleasure in you because it brings you pleasure, always doing what makes you feel good. To spread you open before him, having a perfect view of your alluring holes in front of him, just begging for him to devour away (and fill you up). He can spend hours on his knees between your legs and he has, slipping further and further elsewhere as he indulges in you, his lips relishing away at the altar in your hips.  

A pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you’re squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. He doesn’t go easy on you like he usually does. He fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he’d never get the chance again. The vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he’s the one on his knees.

You can feel him push his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it, then he moves to swirl the tip of his tongue tightly against your puffy clit, “Oh god, Joel, fuck,” you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. You start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him. 

He flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

With his mouth still latched onto your throbbing cunt, he keeps going. 

“Fuck, Joel, I can’t–” it’s too much and you’re too weak, a trembling mess on the mattress, so you attempt to close your legs but the strong grip he has on your thighs doesn’t allow you to move, it only goads him further. 

He licks a thick, languid stripe through your heat all the way up until his tongue prods at the tight ring of muscle, again, your legs threaten to close but the firm grip of his hands keeps you wide open for him, he swirls his tongue in a tight circle around your puckered rim, “Joel–” your gasp is cut off by his white, hot mouth taking its place right back on your clit, not giving you any time to recover.

The tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds–you don’t really know at this point–you feel the pressure building in your belly and it’s growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. His tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

A choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him. 

Milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear the popping of his knees coupled with a grunt behind you as he stands up. He leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.   

Joel positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “I love all of ya, baby, but this right here,” he grips more firmly at the flesh on your hips again, “Fuck– these kill me,” he mumbles, almost entirely to himself. 

“Joel, please, I need you inside me,” you beg and shiver in his grasp. 

He stays quiet behind you, too enticed by the sight of your weeping pussy in front of him. You think you can hear the metallic clink of his belt as it drops to the floor and the buzz of the zipper of his jeans coming undone, the sounds make you clench around emptiness, Joel catches sight of it, a lustful groan slips out of him, a guttural sound from deep within his chest. You’re always so needy, so eager to be full of him and he’ll never get enough of it. 

He keeps one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around his cock as he swipes it once through your folds, wetting his dick with your arousal, earning a quiet whimper from you at the sudden contact. He draws his hips back slightly and finally notches the wide head of his cock into with your awaiting hole, groaning in unison as his tip stretches you open, “Christ, always so fuckin’ tight,” spitting through his teeth.

His other hand moves to your hip to hold you in place as he sinks into you with one languid, long thrust, sliding himself in as deep as he can, he feels his tip hit resistance and his breath hitches in his throat, he stills for a moment, enthralled at the sight of his cock nestled in at the very end of you, completely bottomed out in your dripping cunt, “Fuck–there you go, pussy’s suckin’ me right in, sweetheart. This perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he grits as the grip he has on your hips tightens, his fingertips digging into the soft tenderness of your hips. 

One of his hands sneaks its way to your front and he grabs your breast beneath the neckline of your dress, he kneads it and pinches your nipple between his calloused fingers, then he pulls the neckline down along with your bra, freeing your breasts from the constricting cups, he palms them roughly before leaving them to sway, all bare and heavy, “Look so goddamn perfect bent over for me like this, I wanted to fuck you in this slutty dress all night, fuckin’ couldn’t get it outta my head,” he pants heavily, his hand returns to grip your hip as he begins rocking his hips forward, “Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, baby.” 

You curse lowly as you shift to deepen the arch in your back–you need to feel him closer–you straighten your arms out in front of you, your hands latch on to the edge of the mattress, your chest now pressed to your thighs and hiking your ass higher in the air for him, changing the angle as your body folds in on itself and earning a low groan from Joel, a sound that rumbles deep in his throat, “Sweet Jesus, that’s good, just like that baby, always so good f’me,” he’s babbling under his breath. The palm of his other hand finds the small of your back, “Tell me how it feels,” Joel grits, his voice thick and breathy as his thrusts pick up the pace.

“F–feels so good, Joel,” you sob, and it’s true, every time feels like the first time even after all these years; he had bent you over, pressed his large hand between your shoulder blades, kicked apart your legs with his knees and when his hand found the base of your neck, he pressed your face into the wooden floorboards and stretched you open, fucking you with ruthless abandon, using your body to get himself off, dulling the agonizing memories and unspeakable horrors that had forced his hand. His unforgiving pace, your face scraping along the hardwood floor, his brutal thrusts that kept your cunt sore for days on end, none of that mattered to you, in a way you were using him too, your insides just desperate and aching to be filled and all you could do was take it, your body completely succumbing to him and accepting his girth, ‘s like you were made for me, his breath hot and heavy as the words buzzed in the shell of your ear. 

His deep voice breaks through the loop of ecstasy, redrawing your attention to the moment, “Takin’ my cock so well, this pussy’s so fuckin’ good, she’s so good to me,” he grits, both of his hands now keeping a bruising grip on your hips as he drives your hips back to meet his, pulling you back onto his cock, the slapping of his hips against the plush of your ass echoes loudly in the room. You press your face into the sheets as your moans grow louder while he drives his cock in and out of you, “Those men…’f they had a woman like you…fuck–they don’t deserve that,”  Joel rambles gruffly in between his harsh, unrelenting thrusts, “We’ll show ‘em how a real man fucks his girl, I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em, I’ll show ‘em.” 

Oh god. Sparks ignite a fire that roils low in your belly, you’ll never get used to how talkative he is while he loses himself in you.

“Oh–fuck, Joel, don’t stop, don’t stop,” your words come out choked, the flow of air to your lungs suspended as he punches himself into you, your fingers dig into the mattress in attempt to anchor yourself.  

“I know, baby, I know, just take it,” he hisses through his teeth. “This tight pussy only made to take my cock, ain’t that right?” 

His words are swallowed up by the obscene squelches of your cunt as it grips his cock while he slams into you. When he doesn’t get a response from you he lands a firm slap to your ass, this time with more force, your skin tingles beneath his hand, “Yes, Joel—fuck—yes–yes,” you moan breathlessly, completely lost in a dizzying haze of pleasure. 

“‘S’right, she’s mine, all fuckin’ mine,” Joel snarls, his thrusts grow more aggressive, you fist the sheets beneath you–the possessiveness in his words, the firm grip on your hips pulling you back to fuck you onto his cock–slowly, you can feel the fire in your belly making its way to curl around the base of your spine.

He tightens his grip on your hips once again, you can feel his fingernails digging into your soft skin, you crane your neck to peer behind you, spotting the small indents beneath his fingertips forming on your hips, leaving more evidence of himself on your body. You know they’ll be there in the morning. A low, breathy moan slips between your lips at the thought. Your hooded eyes flicker up to his face, he looks wrecked; his gray curls cling to his forehead as a sheen of sweat covers his skin, his cheeks flushed a shade of cherry red that extends down to his neck and tanned chest, his pupils are blown out so wide they’re almost black, locked in on his length going in and out of your drippy cunt. His eyes flicker up to watch the ripple of your ass as he pummels his cock into you and it drives him over the edge. 

You didn’t think he could get more relentless, yet somehow he does. 

He releases the firm grip he has on your hips and slides his hands to your ass cheeks, he glides his hands over the curve of your ass and again, he brings one palm down in a harsh slap, you make a muffled sound against the sheets. His fingers span over the globe of your ass, palming your ass cheeks and grabbing them tightly, squeezing the tender flesh, he groans loudly as he pulls them apart further, splitting you open even more for him, fucking you deeper, all you can do is whimper into the mattress. 

“Goddamn, you’re perfect, so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasps, his chest heaves as ragged, throaty moans escape him. Unable to stop himself, he squeezes down on your ass cheeks with more vigor as he unravels and pounds into you relentlessly, his thrusts brutal against you and the tip of his cock now punching your cervix. 

You clench around him, a sign that you're close, and he reaches around your front, he presses his fingers into your very sensitive, very swollen clit and starts rubbing tight circles over the bundle of nerves, bringing you to the edge of your release. 

The lick of heat sneaks its way up your spine, dispersing itself along your nerves, setting your skin on fire, “Shit, Joel, m’gonna come,” you gasp, your voice all cracked and your breath ragged, unable to breathe as your lungs search desperately for respite, a low static buzz begins to ring in your ears. 

Somewhere distant in the endless loop of euphoric haze you hear his voice, deep and rough, “Come for me, need to feel this slutty pussy come on my cock.” A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, your eyes slip closed as your walls flutter and gush around him, your clit sore and throbbing beneath his fingers, your body convulsing in aftershocks as your orgasm erupts and smothers you entirely.

“There you go, attagirl, my perfect girl, comin’ all over my cock,” he talks you through the trance of your pleasure. Your pussy clenches down around his length again, bringing him to his own release and he pants, “Baby, need you to turn over—shit, m’gonna–” 

In an attempt to bring yourself up on your shaky arms, you push your hips back into his, Joel hisses through his teeth in response. His hands fly to your hips, steadying himself–shitshitshit–he loses his rhythm as his own orgasm rips right through him, his thick cock pulsing and spasming inside your messy, used cunt, his frame shuddering behind you as he spills inside you. You reach an arm back behind you, grasping onto a hand that’s glued to your hip, his fingers intertwine with yours without hesitation, desperately grounding himself as he groans painfully, long and drawn out while he fucks the last of his seed into the deepest parts of you, filling you to the brim. 

His entire form gives out, falling forward over you, pressing his entire weight into yours, the two of you collapse onto the bed, he drops his forehead, damp with sweat, to your back as his body goes limp over you. He exhales heavily, his warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, he presses a tender kiss to the nape of your neck while his hands find your hips again, quivering as he pulls his sensitive cock out of your wasted pussy with a loud grunt, earning a lewd, wet sound once he completely pulls his length out.  

Joel sits up and leans back, his hands grab your legs keeping you spread open for him, he gawks at the flutter and clench of your leaking hole as his white milky spend drools out of you and he groans, “Oh fuck me, that’s a pretty sight right there, my girl’s fucked all full o’me.” 

“Shut up,” you huff a quiet laugh and shut your legs, he lays a playful slap to your ass, eliciting a tiny squeal from you. Joel stands up and strides off to the bathroom while you crawl up the bed, laying your head against the pillows, the sound of running water in the background as your eyes slip closed, sinking into the blissful haze of the afterglow.

You feel his presence returning, he wraps his hands around your knees and pulls apart your legs, spreading you wide once more and he freezes, “Fuck,” you hear him groan above you. You open your eyes, hazy and hooded, to find him standing between your legs with nothing on but a pair of loose fitting sleep pants, no underwear, a wet rag in hand, mesmerized by the slow flow of his cum dribbling out of your hole.   

He’s completely forgotten what the hell he’s supposed to be doing. 

“Do you need me to do it,” you tease with a small smile, a devious glint in your eyes as you look up at him. 

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, “Keep bein’ smart with me n’ I’ll stuff that pretty mouth of yours,” he quips. 

You grin at him while he drags the damp cloth through your swollen sex. He taps the side of your arm lightly and you sit up, his hands grab at the material bunched around your waistline, as you lift your arms up in the air, he pulls the fabric over your head and your body shimmies its way out of it. His eyes never leave yours as his large hands reach around your back to unhook your bra, pulling the straps from your shoulders, leaving you bare as he scrunches up your clothes and the messy rag soaked in your combined releases and returns to the bathroom. You lie back down again and slip beneath the covers, the back of your head resting on one of his pillows.

Joel saunters back into the room, “Scoot,” he motions with his hand and you do, he slides in beside you and pulls the blankets up to cover your middle. As expected, he tugs you closer to him, tucking you into his side, you instantly hoist one of your legs over the top of his strong thighs, one of your hands rests over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heart beneath your hand.

As the thick haze fades, your lips part, your voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you,” your fingers gliding over the patch of gray hair spanning across his chest, following the trail down the soft swell of his belly while his fingers softly trace down the slope of your side, fingertips following the curve of your body beneath the blankets. 

He presses his lips to the top of your head and he whispers, “I’ll fuck you like that every night f’it means showin’ you how fuckin’ perfect you are.” 

Your lips twitch, a hint of a smirk on your face as you press your face into his chest and hum, “Just admit you’re a dirty old man, will you?” 

Joel laughs lightly but doesn’t deny it, he peers down at you with nothing but adoration and a genuine smile, “Never said I wasn’t, baby, n’ don’t act like you don’t love it.”

‘I do, and I love you,” you bring your hand up to scratch his gray beard before tilting your head up to his and press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, tasting the flavor of your pussy on his tongue, you hum into his mouth, all dazed and content. 

“I love you, honey,” his other hand drags gently along the crown of your head, his thumb resting on your cheek, stroking it as he brushes his nose along your cheek. You can feel his lips turn up into a smile against your skin, “Maybe, I need to get ourselves some rings, that oughta keep ‘em away.”

You smack him lightly on his chest, “You think you’re real funny don’t you?” 

He laughs, loud and deep, his perfect soft, pudgy belly jiggling beneath your knee, his fingers grazing down your back, “M’just sayin’, s’an option.” 

You chuckle. “Whatever you say, Miller.” 

thanks for reading xx

[nakoyaps]

unattractive

kenma kozume x fem! reader

kenma definitely isn’t the type of guy to take you out to big restaurats for dates— not that you’re asking him to; if anything you’re both happier spending one on one time at home.

though, to the conventional people in relationships this is a total no-no.

“seriously, y/n? he’s like a millionaire and he can’t spare a few hundred to go out on a date every once and a while? talk about stingy..” your friend, aiya nagged.

she’s always been materialistic if you’re being honest, you don’t even know why you still keep up with her. three whole years of friendship and you swear all you remember is “oh my god, i heard he’s rich!” “ugh, i dumped him— can you believe that he’s only an office worker?”

money is important, yes. you definitely agree on that. but, no one’s worth is solely based on how much they make or how much they spend.

“can you not talk about kenma like that? he’s just not the type that likes to go out.. and to be honest, neither am i.” you murmur, avoiding eye contact with her.

aiya raises a brow, an idea entering her pea brained mind “you seriously think a man with that much money ‘doesn’t like to go out’?”

“he’s so obviously an introvert, aiya.”

“he’s probably just hiding you away from the public cause he’s embarrassed. no offense..” aiya spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, an mildly exceptionally sickening smirk on her pretty pink lips.

“embarrassed— of what?”

“isn’t it obvious?” she asked, motioning to your physique.

“what the fuck, aiya? that’s my boyfriend we’re talking about.” you started to get agitated, raising your voice.

“well geez, no need to get all mad..” she chuckles, “he just doesn’t look like the type to be loyal, that’s all. plus, he’d look better with someone that’s more.. good looking? i’m not calling you ugly or anything, just.. you’re unconventionally beautiful.”

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆

“fake ass bitch..” you grumble, slamming the door behind you as you flopped on your couch.

kenma appeared from around the corner, looking concerned. “you okay?”

his eyes softened seeing your sour expression, sitting down beside you.

“aiya keeps saying shit about you..”

“so what? people talk shit all the time.”

you roll your eyes, “she keeps saying you’re not good for me, you’d be better off with someone ‘conventionally attractive’ or whatever she’s talking about.”

“that’s not true” he strokes your hair.

“am i not good enough?”

“you are.”

you frown. this was a common reoccurrence and you know you’d get another scolding if you said what you were about to, but.. you only live once, right?

“why’d you choose me anyways? i’m sure lots of your gamer friends are pretty girls too..”

he raised a brow, shutting her eyes with his hands “if you can’t see how pretty you are, don’t even try looking at anything else.”

“i’m serious, kenma!”

“none of them are you. i didn’t just fall in love with your looks— sure they played a big part, but your personality really sealed the deal.”

“that’s what people say when they think their partner’s ugly.”

“you’re not gonna believe me anyways, so..” kenma chuckles, “but seriously, you’re gorgeous. you don’t have to listen to whatever she says just ‘cuz she’s your friend. plus, i keep telling you to stop hanging out with her anyways..”

“i don’t have any other friends—“

“yeah, well she’s a bad influence on you.”

you frowned, sitting upright. face to face with kenma, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

“i still feel like i’m crushing on you sometimes. like i forget that you’re my girlfriend just cause you’re so pretty.”

“fuck off, kenma..” a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

as your eyes met, you felt yourself reaching for his lips—

sorry if kenma felt ooc!! i was listening to music and i think it took control of my writing lol. the writing was all spontaneous cuz i suddenly felt like getting back into publishing fics :p

[keehomania]

party animal — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, slowburn, pining, swearing, minors dni, reader’s surname is archibald bc it sounds expensive, super rich kids, slut-shaming, kook princess!reader, pre-buzzcut rafe, drug use, alcohol abuse, promiscuity, unprotected sex, reader has major daddy issues, rafe is lowkey obsessed, glazing the reader lol heavy serena van der woodsen vibes, rafe wants to fix her (he needs a therapist!)

you were a paradox, a contradiction wrapped in silk and sin—something meant to be divine but marred by every thorn that hell’s garden could offer. you reveled in it, though—the chaos, the pull of power, the way the world seemed to orbit around your smile. the thrill was intoxicating, the rush of watching people bend to your will like marionettes on fragile strings. if you wanted, they’d scrape gum from the soles of your designer heels, and you wouldn’t even need to say “please.” it wasn’t about malice; it was about the game. how far could you go before everything unraveled?

that’s why you came home late every night, long past the hour when even the shadows began to whisper secrets to each other. midnight had always been your threshold—swaying on the edge of your limits, drenched in vice. you carried the night with you like a perfume—martinis clinging to your breath, the ghost of cuban cigars still roughening your voice. your skin glistened under the harsh yellow glow of the porch light, the sweat and sin of your evening etched into your being.

sarah had been your constant, your touchstone in a life teetering between indulgence and destruction. she was supposed to anchor you, but even her goodness wasn’t immune to your sway. she let you in without question, her hand firm but gentle on your arm as she led you across the threshold. her boyfriend trailed behind, his words a muffled hum lost to the haze in your head as she whispered something you didn’t bother to catch.

you knew better than to stay, yet there you were, wrapped in tom ford and tequila, your gaze flickering in the dim light as you crossed the line you swore you wouldn’t touch again. this was mistake number one hundred, but this one felt different. this one was bigger. and you could already feel the weight of it pressing down on your chest, even as you smiled in the dark. god, how you wished you could take back time.

“shit, shit, shit,” you let out a long, high-pitched moan as your nails dug into the flesh of his chest, leaving everything from crescents to the presence of fresh blood from how hard you were clawing at him.

you threw your head back as you steadied yourself, his strong forearms wrapped around your knees as he spread them about, allowing him to meet your thrusts, his hips snapping forward as you moved at your own pace, bouncing, yours hands moving to push your hair back as your tits moved with every motion. “feel so good, rafe,” you slurred, leaning in and arching forward as you pressed your lips to his neck.

now, pause. was this bad? yes, this was very bad. not only were you drunk off your ass, but he was just as bad, if not worse, running on no sleep and booger sugar the way he usually did—maybe he was just wired that way. whatever the case was, he didn't care. he was enchanted, in a trance that he wasn't completely aware of—maybe it was the blow, he wanted it to be the coke more than anything, but he had a feeling it was more than that.

it had to do with the way you were moving, almost as if you were still at the club, dancing and swaying without a care in the world. had you always been like that? when did the kook princess conquer the underworld? he was panting, his mouth hanging open at the feeling of you squeezing, clenching around him like you were trying to milk everything he had to give—and you were. he let you kiss down his jaw, licking a stripe up his earlobe before moving down to his neck, nipping at the flesh and praying it wouldn't bruise.

“keep this up,” he hissed through his teeth, jaw clenching as his big, rough hands manhandled your hips, giving him all the leverage in the world as he kept thrusting, kept pounding into you like you were the only two people on the earth. “and i’m gonna fucking cum.”

you exhaled, something between a laugh and a moan passing your lips, ringing in his ears like a melody. “yeah, gonna cum?” you taunted, “gonna fill me up, cameron?” god, you were asking for it—begging for it, he was gonna nail you.

he pushed you back with a growl, leaning forward until his lips were perched around your nipple, teeth grazing the flesh of your tit as he muffled a guttural groan, fingers gripping the flesh of youe thighs as his dick throbbed. you could feel it pulsing inside you, twitching against your walls, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you sank down on his cock a final time. then, it was game over.

he moaned, loud and hard as he filled you up, milking the delicious grip your walls had around his cock as he continued to thrust, his cum spilling into you continuously, like he had an infinite amount of it in his balls, but he didn’t and, eventually, it did end.

it ended with you collapsing beside him, panting as you fought for oxygen. you wiped the sweat from your forehead as you panted, coming down from your high and absolutely refusing to look him in the eye—at all, really. he turned to glance at you, sweat sticking to the loose, thin bangs that grazed his forehead. he gulped, unsure of what to say as he took in the sight of you, unsure if he should say anything at all, and he didn't. he was too afraid to, but he’d never admit that out loud. he wasn't the type that got scared, intimidated, nothing of the sort. so, why was he suddenly quiet?

he was supposed to be the one to tell you to get up, to grab your clothes, and to get the fuck out of his room, but the words didn't come out. he was supposed to hear you talk about enjoying long walks on the beach, wanting something serious, something more than a quickie at three in the morning, but you didn’t. you didn’t beg for him to look at you as something more than just his friend, sarah’s best friend. instead, you turned around, pulling a blanket over your naked body, and went to sleep.

the pounding in your head was merciless, splitting your skull into jagged thirds as you groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. everything was blurry—the sunlight cutting through the blinds too sharp, the stale remnants of last night’s debauchery clinging to your skin like a brand. you blinked, once, twice, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that refused to align. but when the realization hit, it slammed into you like a freight train. your breath hitched. rafe. naked. asleep.

the room—the white walls, the overflowing closet, the faint trace of white powder on the desk—left no room for doubt. this was his room. and you had slept with him.

“dumbass,” you muttered under your breath, smacking your palm against your forehead like it could somehow erase the memory. “dumbass. dumbass. dumbass.”

you scrambled to your feet, fumbling for the crumpled dress discarded near the bed. your hands shook as you tugged it on, the silk clinging to your skin like guilt. your heels weren’t hard to find, their straps a sharp contrast against the chaos of his room. quietly, you tiptoed to the door, heart thundering with the weight of your actions. what the hell had you done? you tried to steady yourself, convincing your mind that it wasn’t the end of the world. rafe wasn’t the sentimental type. he moved from girl to girl like a chess master with no endgame, and you weren’t exactly unfamiliar with that strategy yourself. if anything, this was just another misstep, a shared mistake that wouldn’t—couldn’t—ruin your friendship.

but god, the thought of sarah finding out, of topper’s smug comments and kelce’s relentless teasing, made your stomach churn.

you reached the kitchen, relief washing over you like a cold shower—until you saw her. standing by the counter, sipping orange juice, her messy blonde hair and pinched expression screaming hangover.

“hey,” you croaked, your voice raspier than you intended.

she barely glanced at you, waving her hand dismissively. “jesus, stop screaming,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

you rolled your eyes, slipping into a stool and squeezing her shoulder. “sorry, mom, i’ll use my inside voice,” you whispered with a smirk. “what? john b keep you up with his john d?”

her eyes narrowed, a faint smile twitching at her lips. “oh, you so cannot be talking,” she shot back, draining her glass in one go. “you did my brother, so that totally makes us sisters-in-law.”

your heart stopped. “keep it down, you psycho,” you hissed, swatting her arm. “you totally hazed me last night. this never would’ve happened if you hadn’t dragged john b along.”

sarah shrugged, not even bothering to hide her grin. “and what now? gonna ditch the club-night stands and get with my brother?” she teased, her tone as light as the smirk she shot you.

“as if,” you scoffed, pouring her another glass of juice. “i’m getting tested for chlamydia after this.”

her brow lifted in mock surprise. “damn, this is a first. usually, the girls beg me to hook them up with rafe.”

you shook your head, wagging a finger at her. “absolutely not. you know me,” you said firmly, and she did. “rafe’s my friend. known him since he was hoarding cereal box comics. so, this? It never happened.”

sarah laughed, leaning back against the counter. “man, he’s totally gonna brag to top and kels,” she said with a mischievous glint. “not everyone gets to nail the kook princess.”

rolling your eyes, you snatched your keys off the counter, leaning in to hug her. “you’re real peachy, aren’t you?” you teased, hand darting down to slap her ass. “i’m out, babe. pick you up tonight for the bonfire?”

“wear something cute,” she called after you, shaking her head with a grin as she watched you leave.

the engine of your corvette roared to life, a deep, satisfying hum that vibrated through your chest and momentarily distracted you from the chaos in your head. you leaned back against the leather seat, gripping the wheel as last night’s events replayed in fragmented flashes. the tequila, the dim haze of rafe’s room, the feel of his hands on your skin—it all came rushing back like a tidal wave, making your cheeks burn with equal parts shame and disbelief.

“what the hell were you thinking?” you muttered, shaking your head as you pulled out of sarah’s driveway.

the quiet streets were still sleepy, the morning sun casting long shadows that danced across the pavement. you drove a few blocks, the rhythmic rumble of the engine filling the silence as you tried to piece everything together. but no matter how hard you tried, it all felt surreal, like something out of a dream you couldn’t quite shake. when you finally pulled into your own driveway, the sight of your familiar front porch brought a strange sense of relief. this was home, your sanctuary—empty for now, thanks to your mother’s work trip. thank god for small miracles; she would’ve flipped her perfectly groomed, suburban lid if she’d seen you walk in smelling like bad decisions and luxury cologne.

sliding out of the car, you groaned softly, your palm meeting your forehead for what felt like the hundredth time. “dumbass,” you whispered again, scolding yourself as you made your way inside.

the house was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows in soft golden streaks. you kicked off your heels near the door, leaving a trail of discarded items on your way to the bathroom. the cool tile against your bare feet was grounding as you stepped into the shower, twisting the knob until a hot, steamy cascade poured over you. you closed your eyes, letting the water wash away the remnants of last night—the sweat, the guilt, the lingering scent of rafe’s cologne clinging to your skin like a bad memory. your hands worked through your hair, fingers scrubbing at your scalp as you tried to scrub him out of your mind.

but he lingered, even as the water ran clear and you stepped out, wrapping a plush towel around yourself. you moved mechanically, toweling your hair dry before running a brush through the damp strands, blow-drying them until they fell in soft waves around your shoulders. a light layer of makeup followed—just enough to cover the shadows under your eyes and add a touch of color to your lips.

you opened your closet, scanning the rows of neatly hung clothes until your fingers landed on the white sundress. it was simple, elegant, hugging your curves in all the right places while leaving your tan lines exposed—reminding you of sun-soaked days that felt like a lifetime ago. you slipped it on, adjusting the hem before layering yourself with delicate gold jewelry: a thin chain around your neck, dainty hoops, and a few stacked bracelets.

the white heels completed the look, their sleek design elongating your legs as you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. you looked put together, polished, even if you felt like a hurricane on the inside.

as you walked back out of the house, locking the door behind you, the corvette gleamed in the driveway. climbing back into the driver’s seat, you started the engine, the rumble a familiar comfort. last night was still a tangle of confusion in your mind, but as you pulled onto the road, you pushed it to the back of your thoughts. you had errands to run, a day to salvage, and a version of yourself to piece back together before anyone else caught on to how close you were to falling apart.

sarah wiped down the countertop with a slow, deliberate motion, her lips curving into a small smile as she thought about you. not with jealousy—she could never bring herself to feel that way about you—but with a kind of admiration that only years of friendship could cultivate. you had always been a force of nature, unpredictable and unrelenting.

you were the girl who punched cindy lopez in the nose for calling sarah stupid in third grade, who bought her her first vogue magazine when her parents refused to indulge her interest in fashion, who never hesitated to stand by her, no matter what. sarah knew, deep down, that nothing could ever truly take you away from her.

“hey.” the familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts. she turned, her eyes landing on her brother as he sauntered into the kitchen. his hair was tousled, his eyes slightly bloodshot, and his expression unreadable.

“morning,” sarah greeted, fighting the urge to laugh. “some night you had.”

rafe ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze as he moved toward the fridge. “she left,” he stated, his voice flat, though sarah could hear the faint edge to it. “they usually don’t.”

rafe shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. he took a long sip before sitting at the kitchen island, his gaze distant. “yeah, well, she’s a free spirit,” sarah said, leaning against the counter. she studied his face carefully, noticing the subtle tension in his jaw. “you’re cool with that, right?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” rafe said quickly, almost too quickly. he shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers against the counter as if to distract himself. “she’s a—she’s a good friend. shouldn’t be too bad.”

sarah tilted her head, suppressing a smirk as she moved some dishes around the sink. “congrats, by the way. you nailed the kildare princess. topper’s totally gonna be jealous.”

rafe raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at her. “top?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes narrowing slightly.

sarah nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “yeah, god, he’s had a crush on her forever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “don’t rub it in too much, though. i was totally rooting for them.”

rafe tapped his foot against the tile, his brows furrowing as he processed this. “yeah? And, uh, how does she feel about him?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

sarah shrugged, pondering the question for a moment. “i have no idea. no one knows what she’s thinking—not even me,” she admitted with a small laugh. “she’s a free spirit, like i said. she doesn’t take guys seriously. guess it has something to do with her dad. whatever it is, a guy couldn’t fix her with two hands and a toolbox, so be grateful she isn’t begging for your attention.”

rafe nodded slowly, her words sinking in. he leaned back in his chair, wiping his face with his hands as he considered what she’d said. it didn’t sit right with him—the way you had left without a second glance, the way you hadn’t even seemed to care about what had happened between you. he was used to a certain kind of response from the girls he spent the night with—flirty texts, coy smiles, maybe even the occasional attempt to cling to him. but you? you’d left like it was nothing, like he was nothing. it bothered him. more than it should have. but rafe cameron had always liked a challenge.

the roar of your corvette’s engine echoed as you pulled into the car wash, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel in a rhythm that betrayed your nerves. the ache in your head hadn’t dulled, and you silently cursed yourself for not grabbing an aspirin before you left the house. a drink sounded tempting too—something strong enough to quiet your thoughts about last night.

as you drove into the bay, a figure approached your car, a man in a black cap pulled low over his brow. his gait was confident, but as he got closer, you noticed the slight hesitation in his step. early twenties, give or take, with sun-kissed skin and broad shoulders, he leaned down to meet your gaze through the window.

“hey, do you need your tires polished—” he stopped mid-sentence, his voice faltering as his eyes widened. recognition lit up his face as his jaw slackened slightly.

“top?” you asked, rolling your window down with a grin.

a smile broke across his face, wide and sheepish, as he tugged the cap off his head, running a hand through his hair. “hey,” he stammered, his voice boyish and endearing. “what are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” you replied with a chuckle. “what’s this? early career change?”

he laughed nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “nah, it’s my uncle’s shop. just helping him out for the summer,” he explained, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “it’s, uh, it’s really good to see you.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s good to see you too, top.”

the moment lingered for a beat longer than necessary, his gaze holding yours before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“so, what’s the occasion?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

“just getting her ready for the bonfire tonight,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “won’t take up too much of your time.”

topper shook his head quickly, his grin returning. “you’re not wasting my time,” he said, almost too earnestly. “i’ll get started—on the house.”

you frowned, leaning forward. “come on, top. you know i can pay.”

he waved you off, his grin widening. “yeah, but you won’t.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “fine, but i owe you a drink or two tonight.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice lighter, more confident now.

as he turned to get to work, you watched him for a moment, appreciating the way his shoulders moved as he grabbed the hose. he was efficient, his movements precise, but his composure faltered when his eyes drifted back to you through the window. he tried to stay focused, but you caught the way his gaze lingered on your collarbone, the golden jewelry adorning your neck, and the soft curve of the sundress that hugged your body. his jaw tightened as his eyes trailed lower, taking in the tan lines just visible above the hem of your dress. topper had it bad. real bad.

the errands had eaten away your day, the sun already dipping low in the sky by the time you were done. time had flown by faster than you realized, but the anticipation bubbling in your chest made you brush it off. you drove down the familiar block, the hum of the corvette’s engine smoothing your thoughts as you spotted the estate. pulling to the curb, you honked the horn twice, leaning out the window with a grin.

“get in, loser, we’re getting wasted,” you called out, watching as sarah appeared in the doorway, slipping into a pair of sandals.

behind her, rafe hovered like a shadow, his tall frame taking up the doorway. he muttered something to his sister—something about seeing her at the bonfire—but his eyes weren’t on her. they were on you. your stomach twisted, caught between the weight of his gaze and the awkwardness of the situation. shit, what was he supposed to do? wave? say hi? stay quiet? he settled on a wave, though the moment his hand lifted, his confidence faltered. the wave was awkward, hesitant, and he regretted it instantly.

you winced for him, forcing a half-hearted wave back, just as awkward, until the sound of the passenger door slamming shut snapped you out of it.

“romeo, romeo, where art thou, fair romeo?” sarah teased as she tossed herself into the seat, kicking her legs up and reaching for your playlist without hesitation.

“good to see you too, princess,” you mused, rolling your eyes.

she shrugged, her teasing smirk softening as her eyes swept over you, taking in the white sundress that clung to your frame. “you look good,” she said, her tone genuine for once. “you look good in white.”

a smile tugged at your lips as you shifted the car into drive. “you look good in everything,” you shot back smoothly, earning a laugh from her.

the drive to the bonfire was pure summer magic, the kind of ride where the windows were down, and the air smelled like salt and heat. music blared from the speakers as you and sarah sang along, her feet resting on the dashboard as the wind whipped her hair around her face. the sky burned in hues of orange and pink, melting into a deepening blue as the sun dipped lower.

the road opened up to the party grounds, and it was clear the bonfire was just the centerpiece of something much larger. the expansive courtyard buzzed with life, groups of people laughing and chatting, while the glow of string lights gave the scene a warm, golden hue. to the side, a makeshift bar was already busy with activity, and further back, you could see the well-manicured green of a golf field illuminated by soft lighting.

you pulled into valet parking, handing over the keys with practiced ease as sarah slid out of the car beside you. without thinking, your hand dropped to hers, fingers brushing for just a moment before she let out an exaggerated groan.

“oh, god,” she muttered under her breath.

“what?” you asked, already bracing yourself for the mess. seriously, it’s been, what? 10 seconds?

you turned your head and saw him—john b routledge, weaving his way toward you with that signature grin of his. he didn’t even hesitate, wrapping sarah in a hug the moment he reached her.

“hey,” he greeted you casually, though his attention was clearly focused on sarah.

you didn’t reply. instead, you met sarah’s gaze over his shoulder, your expression speaking louder than words. “routledge. mind if i steal her? thanks.” you didn’t even wait for a response.

as he pulled back, you leaned in close to sarah, your voice low enough that only she could hear. “he does or says anything, you get bored, anything goes flat—you call me, text me, i’ll be there, okay?”

she nodded, her lips curving into a smile. “god, you’re the best,” she said, throwing her arms around you for a quick hug.

you shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “i know.” and then, with a bounce in her step, she was off, disappearing into the crowd with her boyfriend.

the bar wasn’t far, but the walk to it felt like something out of a movie. you didn’t notice it at first—the way heads turned, eyes lingering on you like you’d stepped out of some dream. the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees and string lights, casting a warm, golden glow that seemed to follow you. It was as if the sun itself had decided to pause, just for a moment, to watch you move through the courtyard.

when you reached the bar, you slid onto one of the stools, crossing your legs and leaning forward just enough to signal that you meant business. the bartender looked up from his station, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he approached.

“miss archibald,” he greeted smoothly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to feel personal but still professional.

of course he knew your name—everyone did. kildare was a small county, and its residents loved their local legends. you’d been a sensation for years, the name whispered with awe and envy, your life dissected by those who had nothing better to do. table dancing in barcelona? they’d seen the photos. a whirlwind fling with a celebrity? they’d read the headlines. you couldn’t decide if the attention was a blessing or a curse.

“hey, trent,” you replied casually, your gaze flicking to his name tag, even though you already knew it.

“what’ll it be tonight?”

“don julio, chilled,” you said, pulling your wallet out with ease. you layered a crisp hundred-dollar bill with a few twenties and then added a little extra for him, sliding it across the counter without a second thought.

he raised an eyebrow but accepted the tip without comment, reaching for the top shelf. “haven’t seen you around in a bit,” he mused as he grabbed the tequila. “get yourself a boyfriend?”

the question made your skin crawl, though you masked it with a polite smile. “not in the slightest,” you replied, your tone light but firm enough to shut the topic down.

he nodded, as if that were the answer he’d expected, and set to work. within moments, he placed a chilled bucket on the counter, along with a neat arrangement of shot glasses, lemon wedges, and salt.

“here you go,” trent said with a grin, stepping back to give you space.

finally, you could relax. you exhaled slowly, letting the buzz of the courtyard fade into the background as you eyed the setup before you. the tequila gleamed like liquid gold in the bucket, and you reached for a glass, savoring the moment. tonight, at least for now, was yours. or so you believed, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. the joy was short-lived.

you turned at the light tap on your shoulder, eyebrows raising in curiosity before your lips curved into a familiar grin. there he was, his blond hair slightly messy, his signature smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “you look like you could use a drinking buddy,” jj maybank said, his voice laced with that casual charm that never failed to make people smile.

you leaned back against the stool, crossing one leg over the other as you looked him over. “what are you doing here, j? still crashing our parties?” you teased, your tone light but warm.

he chuckled, sliding onto the stool beside you, his movements as relaxed as ever. “what can i say? i keep coming back. think it’s for the women,” he shot back, his eyes trailing down to where your legs crossed before flickering back to your face.

“some luck they have,” you replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow as you poured yourself another shot.

jj whistled low as he noticed the bottle. “don julio? act a foolio?” he quipped, grabbing a glass for himself.

you smirked, pouring him a shot. “savor it, maybank. you’re drinking two hundred bucks.”

he laughed, leaning back on the stool and looking skyward. “huh, i thought houses cost that much. or is it just mine? just mine? okay.”

you swatted him lightly on the chest, shaking your head as you laughed. his grin widened, and he leaned closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “how about a drinking game?”

your curiosity piqued, and you raised an eyebrow. “oh, yeah? what’s your angle?”

jj grinned like a cat with a canary. “simple. i take a shot, tell you a secret. you take a shot, tell me a secret. loser has to outdrink the other.”

you stared at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “smooth operator, aren’t you?”

he tilted his head, his grin unfaltering. “when it works, it works.”

you tipped your glass back, the tequila smooth and icy as it slid down your throat. setting it down with a soft clink, you thought for a moment before a sly smile spread across your lips. “alright, remember last summer when i went to spain? that article about my celebrity hookup?”

jj nodded, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “oh, hell yeah. don’t tell me it was a kardashian or some shit.”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “pablo gavira. nightclub. barcelona.”

his jaw dropped, and then he burst into laughter, slapping the bartop. “holy shit, congrats, it girl. you lived the dream of every fourteen-year-old girl out there!”

you rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips. “shut up, you ass. your turn,” you urged, gesturing for him to take his shot.

jj grinned, taking the glass and throwing back the tequila in one swift motion. as he set the glass down, he leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “okay, remember last month when john b’s board mysteriously went missing?”

you groaned, already sensing trouble. “jj, what did you do?”

he shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “sold it to a tourist for three hundred. used the cash to buy everyone drinks at the wreck. including your best friend, by the way.”

your eyes widened in mock horror. “diabolical.”

he laughed, that carefree sound that was so uniquely him. “hey, the guy wanted something ‘authentic.’ i gave him authentic.”

you shook your head, pouring another round. “you’re the worst, maybank.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his grin infectious as he raised his glass for another round.

you stared down the shot glass, your mind racing for a secret that would blow jj’s offbeat humor right out of the water. you had your reputation—hell, you had a treasure chest full of scandals to pull from. but this? this had to be a knockout. something so jaw-dropping, so absolutely wrong that it would leave even jj maybank momentarily speechless. and then it hit you.

you set the glass down with a soft clink, leaning toward him, your lips curling into a devious grin. “guess who i slept with last night.”

his head snapped toward you, his interest piqued as he leaned in, matching your grin with his own. “sarah,” he shot back instantly, smirking like he already knew the answer.

you rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “i wish,” you groaned dramatically. then, you paused for effect, letting the tension build before delivering the bombshell. “rafe.”

jj froze. for a moment, it was as if his entire system short-circuited, his jaw dropping in an expression that was equal parts horror and hilarity. then he hissed, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “you’re joking,” he choked out between gasps, his face twisting in disbelief.

you shook your head solemnly, a hand over your heart. “i wish i was. i was drunk, he was high. it just happened.”

he leaned back, clutching his stomach as he cackled. “and they say romance is dead,” he wheezed before shaking his head in mock disapproval. “dude, you had sex with your friend. big no-no. and your friend is a total whore. what if he caught feelings? you be up for a change of pace?”

you nearly choked on the air you inhaled too sharply. “big no,” you said firmly, your voice rising slightly. “and with that psycho? he’d snap my neck in a heartbeat if he was coked up enough.”

jj shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of tequila. “that’s your type, though. let’s face it. you like ‘em hot and stupid, and that’s all rafe is.” he broke into another fit of laughter, the image clearly amusing him to no end.

you narrowed your eyes, leaning toward him. “hey, i don’t go for psychopaths that shoot cops, dude.”

jj winced, his head swiveling as he glanced around. “allegedly,” he corrected, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “not so loud, psycho. besides, you like your men deranged.”

you scoffed, throwing back another shot. “yeah, that’s what I need. a strung-out psycho blasting big syke while he beats my ass.”

jj’s laughter came to an abrupt halt as he stared at you, his brow furrowed in mock thought. “really? pegged him more as a tupac kind of guy.”

you chuckled, leaning in close with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “you know, i should fix him up. do some psychoanalysis-type shit. make him a good boy,” you joked.

jj nearly fell off his stool, laughing so hard that tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “is that it, bob the builder? you wanna fix me up next?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you cooed, shaking your head as you rested a hand on his shoulder. “no way, babe. i like you just the way you are. damaged goods.”

he faked a gasp, clutching his chest as if you’d physically wounded him. “who said these goods were damaged?”

“your track record,” came a voice behind you.

you froze, your entire body stiffening at the familiar sound. slowly, almost as if you could delay the inevitable, you turned in your seat, dreading the sight you knew you’d find. and there he was. his expression was unreadable, a mix of calm and something far darker lurking just beneath the surface. those piercing blue eyes bore into you, not leaving yours for a second.

jj let out a low whistle under his breath, muttering, “well, shit.”

you forced a polite smile as you turned to face him, though the tension in the air was as palpable as the heat rising in the room. “hey,” you greeted, trying to diffuse the moment with your usual charm.

you leaned forward to give him a quick hug, a friendly one, but as your arms wrapped around him, you could feel the shift in his breath, the way it caught in his throat as he inhaled deeply. his chest rose and fell just a little too sharply, his lips brushing the side of your neck as you pulled back. that warm, expensive scent of yours seemed to linger in the air, and for a brief moment, you thought you might have made things a bit too personal between the two of you.

but then, you pulled away, turning to greet the others, pushing the awkwardness aside. topper and kelce were already there, practically vibrating with excitement. you smiled and reached out to hug them both. “top, kels,” you said warmly. “you guys want a drink?”

kelce’s grin stretched wide, his enthusiasm unmistakable. “shit, don julio? there’s our money maker,” he cheered, sliding into one of the stools like it was his own personal throne.

topper, on the other hand, didn’t look as enthused anymore. his eyes flickered, darting between you and jj, the conflict visible in the furrow of his brow. you caught the shift, but decided to address it in a way that wouldn’t rock the boat too much.

rafe’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and demanding. “what’s the pogue doing here?”

jj raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin pulling at his lips. “don’t shoot, just came for a drink,” he teased, the smirk never wavering from his face.

topper shot him a look, one that practically oozed disdain, his tone a little too biting as he quipped, “yeah, we can see that.” he slid a glance at you, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “bar’s full of stools. sit somewhere else.”

the words stung, but jj shrugged them off with practiced ease as you threw an arm around his shoulders as if to claim him as your own for the moment. “you guys are way too sober,” you joked, giving them a mock warning. “be nice.”

jj’s eyes briefly met rafe’s, just a flicker of something passing between them, something loaded with a challenge. and for that brief second, it was like the world stood still, the air thick with competition. but then jj’s smirk widened, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you just a little closer to him. “some friends you have,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. “haven’t even complimented your dress.”

rafe’s jaw clenched, but he held his ground. he didn’t even know why he was angry, but the sight of jj with his arm around you was a slap in the face. he wanted to believe that it was because jj was a pogue, on kook territory, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

“the dress is beautiful, looks great on her, probably real expensive,” rafe said, his voice suddenly tight, eyes flicking pointedly to where jj’s arm was draped around you. “so get your dirty-ass pogue hands off it.”

the words hit hard, but you weren’t about to let the tension build any further. raising both your hands in a surrendering gesture, you rolled your eyes. “okay, rafe, enough. we get it, he’s a pogue,” you said, your tone light but firm. “just chill out.”

rafe scoffed, a bitter edge to his laugh. as he passed by you, he paused and slammed his shoulder against jj’s, the force enough to make the stool wobble. he shot a look over his shoulder, his gaze hard. “paparazzi’s out in front,” he said, his words dripping with something darker. “try not to get sloppy.” ouch.

the air grew heavier as the boys found their places at the bar, settling down on the stools opposite you. you could feel their eyes on you, heavy and lingering, like they were trying to decipher something beneath the surface. kelce groaned, and the sound was unmistakable—hunger, wrapped in something almost reverential. his eyes raked over you, from your heels all the way up to the way your hair cascaded down your back, messy but perfectly styled.

“she looks fly as hell,” he muttered, swishing his beer bottle absentmindedly. his gaze dropped lower. “legs like that could give victoria's secret a run for their money.”

topper scoffed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning to kelce with a sharp look. “dude, back off,” he snapped, though there was a flicker of agreement in his eyes. he glanced at rafe, who was quietly sipping his own beer, a glint of something darker in his gaze.

rafe rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. he slouched back in his stool, taking another swig from his bottle. “you guys are cracked out,” he muttered dismissively, but then he added something they weren’t expecting. “that’s a low-value woman.”

“what the fuck did you say?” topper shot up, his voice harsh, his fist slamming the bottle down onto the counter with a force that startled a few patrons nearby. the shock in his voice was palpable, and even kelce's usual laid-back demeanor had faltered.

rafe shrugged nonchalantly, his demeanor almost too calm for what he had just said. “you’ve read the articles. she likes the attention. jumping from one guy to another, type shit,” he said, his words clipped, colder than the beer in his hand.

kelce and topper exchanged a glance, their confusion turning to something more, but kelce was the first to speak. “she’s our friend, dude,” he said, his voice lower now, softer. he paused before adding, “and besides, what does that make you? hazardous waste disposal in your pants.” kelce dapped topper up, short and quick.

rafe scoffed, the sound harsh as he ran a hand through his hair, the aggression simmering just under the surface. he looked over at the two of them, a hint of mockery curling his lips. “shoot your shot then, top,” he taunted, raising his bottle in a mocking toast. “let’s see how you’ll feel when you see her flashing the paparazzi.”

topper’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly, but the tension wasn’t just between him and rafe anymore. he could feel it, the way the balance was starting to shift. and for a split second, you caught rafe’s gaze flicking over toward you. it wasn’t subtle, the way his eyes followed you, the way they locked onto the easy intimacy you shared with jj. the hand on your thigh, your smile—as if you didn’t have sex with him the night before. and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, rafe seemed to tighten, like a rope pulled too taut.

before it could build into something more, rafe exhaled, the tension in his shoulders giving way slightly. his eyes softened for a brief second before his face hardened again, and he slapped a hand onto topper and kelce’s backs, breaking the thick silence.

“come on,” he finally muttered, the words almost too quiet to catch, his voice rough, but there was a finality to it. “let’s get laid.”

the night blurred together in a haze of tequila, smoke, and too many shallow breaths. the bottle of tequila was gone—an impressive feat, even for you—but the dull ache in your skull and the growing warmth in your chest only made you crave more. you’d been warned, right? rafe had said it, the same way they always did, but his words bounced off you like the cheap music playing overhead. you thought of him dancing with the girl, the way he smiled, fake and carefree. the kind of smile that had always made you ache before you started pretending it didn’t. the thing was, he was just like you, right? just another person trying to fill a hole, trying to make sense of it all. but there was no humor in it when you smiled at him from across the room, only condescension.

you turned your back on him and back to jj. he was leaning back in his chair, lazily flipping the joint between his fingers. the dim light from the courtyard highlighted the sharp lines of his face, the messiness of his hair, and the careless way he seemed to fit into his world. you didn’t think you’d ever met someone who wore chaos like that, but there was something almost magnetic about it. he caught your eye and smirked as he took the joint from his lips.

“oh, you shouldn’t have,” you cooed, leaning in and snatching it from him, pressing it to your own lips. you didn’t need his permission, not anymore. you hadn’t needed it for a long time.

“major pretty privilege,” jj teased, his voice low but amused. “totally would've kicked your ass if you weren't—” he let the sentence trail off as you took a long drag, eyes narrowing as the smoke curled between your lips and into the air.

you exhaled slowly, the smoke filling your lungs with a warmth that dulled everything else. “i’m a scandal away from a nose job,” you mused, half laughing as you watched him.

he grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand casually rested on your thigh. “i wouldn’t be so quick to joke about that,” he said with a smirk. but there was something softer in his voice, almost like he was trying to keep the conversation light. it didn’t matter. it never did.

you leaned back, staring at the stars above you, but it was hard to focus on them. the weight in your chest grew heavier, suffocating, like the world was closing in. you hated how it felt. how much you wanted to simply not exist, to disappear, even if only for a moment. you wanted to leave your body behind, to step outside of this mess you called life and pretend you were someone else. someone who didn’t need any of this, someone who didn’t feel like they were drowning in the way their own heart beat.

jj watched you, the flickering glow of the joint between his fingers casting shadows on his face. “lost in thought, princess?” his voice pulled you back into the moment. “already tapping out?”

you forced a smile, shaking your head as you took another hit from the joint. “the night is young,” you said, your words a little more slurred now, but that didn’t matter. nothing mattered except the rhythm of the music and the way your heart felt like it was pounding in sync with the bass.

somehow, that was how you ended up pressed up against him in the courtyard, your body swaying with his, your hips grinding against his front. his hands were on your waist, holding you tightly as if he didn’t care about anything else. you could feel the heat between you, thick and intoxicating, and you didn’t even have to think about it. the rest of the world? it didn’t matter. you could feel the eyes of others on you—the way their gazes flicked over you and jj, maybe in appreciation, maybe in jealousy. it didn’t matter. all you cared about was this moment, this feeling of losing yourself.

jj groaned, his breath warm against your ear as his lips brushed the skin just beneath it. “you’re asking for trouble,” he whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t quite place.

“i know what i’m asking for,” you replied, your voice low as you pressed harder against him. his hands tightened on your hips, squeezing in a way that made your head spin, your breath catching in your throat.

and yet, far away from you, there was rafe. his hands were wrapped around another girl, his eyes dark and distant. he didn’t know her—hell, he didn’t care to—but he had her close, like a shield, something to keep the world at bay. and still, his gaze drifted toward you, the same way it always did. you were just a magnet for him, weren’t you? the pull between you both was a constant, but tonight, it felt different. as his eyes locked onto yours, watching you dance with jj, something shifted. his stomach churned uncomfortably, the world spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. how could you be so shameless?

rafe’s thoughts turned bitter as his eyes flicked over your body, watching you grind against jj in a way that made his jaw tighten, but he couldn’t look away. you were impossible. you didn’t give a shit about the rules. you were different. how had you not crumbled under the weight of it all? you were spinning out of control, and somehow, that made you even more dangerous. he wanted to stop watching, wanted to tear his gaze away from you. but something inside him wouldn't let him. he couldn’t understand you. not now, not ever. and so he just watched. because that was all he could do.

the air in the bathroom felt thick with heat, suffocating, and charged with an electricity that had been building between you and jj all night. you barely had time to process it before you were pinned against the wall, his hands keeping your arms pressed against the cold tile as his lips moved urgently against yours. the sound of his soft grunt vibrated between you both as he kissed you deeper, a teasing hunger in his touch that matched the fire burning inside you.

you could feel the hard, insistent press of his dick against your knee, the way your body seemed to react of its own accord. without thinking, you pushed your knee upward, letting it graze against him, offering him just enough friction to make him groan lowly, his grip on you tightening in response.

the moment was stolen, heat building between you both in a whirl of urgency, until he suddenly released your hands, his arms lifting you up effortlessly. you gasped slightly as he placed you on the edge of the sink, his strong hands spreading your thighs, pulling your hips closer to his as his lips trailed down your neck. the sensation of his breath against your skin made you shiver, and you let out a soft whimper, your fingers finding refuge in his hair, pulling him closer.

his teeth grazed your neck in the most tantalizing way, making your head spin. “should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured between soft kisses, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but there was a subtle hunger in his voice that made your heart race.

you tilted your head back, trying to steady yourself, letting out a breathless laugh as you tugged his hair, forcing him to look up at you. “yeah? should’ve asked nicely. i’m a nice girl.”

his lips curled into a wicked grin, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. “real nice girl. nice girls like you get rewards.” the sound of his voice, the heat in his words, almost made you forget everything else. you felt his hands press into your ass, squeezing, fingers teasing the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

but then, just as quickly as the moment had built, it all came crashing down with an unpleasant, distinctly loud sound—a harsh gag, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. you both froze, the spell broken, and for a moment, you felt disoriented as reality quickly snapped back into place. you heard the retching, the splashing of liquid against porcelain.

“rafe?” you called out, your voice tentative, already bracing yourself for the inevitable. you stepped away from jj, quickly pulling the straps of your dress back up. “you okay?”

you found him hunched over the toilet, his face pale, sweat slicking his skin as he heaved. the sight of him was almost comical, in a way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. you rushed over to him, placing a hand on his back to steady him. he was breathing heavily, but still had enough energy to shoot you a look.

“peachy,” he grimaced, sarcasm dripping from his words as he threw up again.

you sighed, looking over at jj, who was still lingering by the doorway. he caught your eye, and you didn’t need to say anything. he gave a small, understanding nod. “i’ll call you,” he said, his tone soft, but there was a lingering playfulness to his words. you wanted to say something in response, something like “please don’t,” but the words stuck in your throat. the moment felt too fragile, too much of a mess for you to handle right now. rafe noticed the unspoken exchange, and his mood soured even more. he wiped his mouth, scoffing.

“real classy, man,” rafe spat, his voice hoarse.

you rolled your eyes, unfazed by his usual grumbling. “glad to know you're well enough to fight,” you shot back, grabbing a paper towel to wet it and gently wiping his mouth. he shook his head and pushed your hand away. “you gotta go home, man.”

“no way,” he muttered, groaning as he leaned back against the wall. “top and kels are still here. i’m not leaving.”

you tossed the paper towel into the trash, exhaling in frustration. “i’ll take them home too,” you countered.

he groaned again, looking like he might pass out right there. “oh, great, you're driving. so that's two felonies—drunk driving and kidnapping.”

you smiled coyly, stepping back. “you know a lot about felonies, do you?”

he waved you off dismissively, rolling his eyes. “whatever. do what you want.”

you stared at him for a moment, but his behavior still felt off. he wasn’t usually this combative, not with you. it was like he couldn’t decide whether to fight you or something else. whatever it was, you didn’t care. “prick,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. he didn’t respond, and you didn’t press him further. you weren’t in the mood for his antics anymore.

you sat behind the wheel of your corvette, the engine humming beneath you, but all you could hear was the muffled noise of the others in the backseat. the car felt too small, the air too thick, the silence between you all almost unbearable. you could feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, making your thoughts a little foggy, your senses dull. the weight of the situation was starting to settle, but it didn’t matter—you still had to get them home, and you could barely keep your eyes focused on the road.

“this is such a bad idea,” sarah muttered from the passenger seat, her words slurring just slightly as she leaned back, clutching the seatbelt. “you’re literally wasted.”

you shot her a look, shrugging carelessly as you kept your eyes on the road. you knew she was right, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. this was the least of your problems.

“you’re fine,” kelce said from the back, his voice louder than necessary, “i don’t doubt you, never doubted you.” he cut himself off with a gag, and you could hear the way his stomach lurched behind you.

god, they were a mess. none of them could handle their liquor, and here you were, playing the designated driver in the middle of a blackout night. you glanced at them in the rearview mirror, seeing them in the back, all sprawled out and disoriented. they looked like three little kids leaving a birthday party, unsure of where to go next, lost in their own drunken stupor.

“thanks for driving us home,” topper said, smiling at you, his head tilted back against the headrest despite the way his stomach was clearly protesting the ride.

rafe rolled his eyes and sneered from his seat behind you. “grease her feet while you’re at it,” he snapped.

topper turned toward him with a quick retort. “how about i break yours?” he slurred, half-smiling through the haze of his drunkenness.

rafe, wincing in pain from the aftermath of whatever he had consumed, sat up straighter. “bring it on, man,” he spat, still looking for a fight.

kelce groaned from next to them, exasperated. “shut up, macklemore,” he sneered at rafe, before turning back to topper. “you too, vanilla ice—” but he barely finished before letting out a shrill scream, his body jolting forward as you hit the gas, your car lurching forward onto the main road. the backseat erupted.

“man, let go off me,” topper grumbled, trying to push kelce’s hand away as he clung to his shirt for dear life.

sarah rolled her eyes. “i can't believe you have to babysit them,” she muttered, her voice dripping with frustration.

you didn’t reply, instead giving the steering wheel another firm grip as you swerved slightly, the backseat falling into even more disarray. the chaos from behind you was nothing but white noise as you tried to focus on the road. you couldn’t let your mind wander.

“nothing better to do,” you said, your tone flat, not caring about the joke.

rafe scoffed loudly from the back, clearly trying to provoke you. “what? lose your two minutes in heaven with the pogue?”

you didn’t respond, your eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror. rafe’s gaze met yours, and something dark flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t place. you didn’t have time for it, though, the weight of his words sinking in despite your attempt to block them out. your knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. it wasn’t long before you reached the final drop-off point, and you dropped topper and kelce off at their places first. you could still feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone.

when it was just you and rafe left, the silence between you both was more apparent. you turned to sarah, giving her a brief, tight hug before she slipped out of the car, but your eyes didn’t leave rafe.

"feel better, rafe," you said, your voice soft, a fake warmth in your tone as you held his gaze in the mirror.

he froze. he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. his eyes remained locked on you for just a moment longer before he gave a brief, wordless nod. the moment lingered. without another word, you pulled out of the driveway and made your way back home.

when you arrived, it was the same familiar emptiness. the house felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in around you. the silence settled in like an old friend, but one you weren’t sure you wanted to have a conversation with. sometimes, you’d pretend your mom was upstairs, tucked away in her room instead of on another work trip—if that’s what you could call it. sometimes, you’d talk to your dad, even though you knew he wasn’t going to respond. you’d still say “hey,” because maybe, just maybe, one day, he would answer.

but tonight was different. tonight, you didn’t feel like pretending. you didn’t feel like escaping. you made your way to the bathroom, needing the comfort of your routine. you wiped the makeup off your face, the familiar motions grounding you for a moment, but even the sound of the wipes against your skin couldn’t drown out the noise inside your head. you checked the mark that jj had left on your neck. it felt like a different lifetime, like a fleeting moment that you could barely remember now. but the silence. it was deafening.

you wiped the makeup off, but the tears came anyway, falling silently as you let the weight of the night hit you. it felt impossible to stop them, as if the floodgates had opened and you couldn’t close them. the tears fell in quiet streams as you stared at yourself in the mirror, a stranger looking back at you. you wondered what her name was, what her favorite color was. she looked younger, more natural, like time hadn’t worn her out yet, like she was still someone’s little girl.

you woke up to the harsh sunlight filtering through your curtains, a dull headache pounding in your temples like a steady drumbeat. the scent of stale alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of the night before, as your eyes fluttered open with a groggy resistance. you groaned, the pain in your head intensifying as you sat up slowly, trying to collect yourself.

it was always like this—late, a raging hangover, the world around you still spinning as if mocking your every move. you pulled the blanket around you tighter, wishing for another few hours of sleep, but the persistent ringing of your phone yanked you out of the haze. your hand fumbled for the device, the familiar vibrations like an intrusion into the fragile stillness you had been trying to create.

you squinted at the screen, the name blinking in front of you. you inhaled sharply, before reluctantly swiping to answer. “mom?” you called out, your voice raspy from the sleep, the headache still making it hard to focus.

“baby? hey, baby! happy birthday!” your mother’s voice was loud and cheerful, cutting through the background noise of what sounded like a party. you could hear the sound of waves crashing, glasses clinking, and the unmistakable hum of conversation. “hey, what’s going on?” she continued, trying to speak over the noise.

you felt a pit in your stomach. “nothing, just woke up,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes as you leaned back against the pillows, a dull ache forming in your chest. “how’ve you been?”

she laughed in response, the sound of her happiness so sharp and out of place compared to the hollow feeling gnawing at you. “just great, baby. you get the birthday money i sent you? only the best for my girl.” her words were bright, carefree.

you blinked, the mention of the money momentarily pulling you from your thoughts. “no, i’ll check, thanks, mom,” you said softly, not really hearing her anymore. you bit your lip, then hesitated. “have you—have you called him yet? to ask if he’ll come? for my birthday.”

there was a long silence, and for a moment, you wondered if she’d heard you. but then she spoke again, the change in her tone so subtle you almost missed it. “honey,” she started, her voice lowering just slightly. “honey, it’s just not gonna happen. said he had things going on, i’m sorry.”

the words stung in a way you hadn’t been prepared for. your chest tightened, but your eyes were dry—no tears would come, not today. not after all the times you’d convinced yourself it would be different. it was just another year of empty promises. another year of waiting.

“it’s okay, mom,” you said, your voice small. “no, i get it. he’s busy.” the words left your mouth, but they felt hollow, like you were trying to convince yourself of something you knew wasn’t true.

she continued, not noticing the shift in your tone. “hey, but i saw the news! you looked great in the dress, baby, i’ll send you another one—” she rambled on, her words falling on deaf ears. you didn’t hear her anymore, lost in the quiet thrum of disappointment that had settled deep within your chest.

you blinked rapidly, trying to push down the tightness in your throat, the dull ache in your chest threatening to spill over. “that’s great, mom,” you said quickly, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your face. “i gotta go. love you.”

before she could respond, you hung up. for a few moments, you just sat there, staring at the screen of your phone as if hoping it would change. maybe she’d call back. maybe your dad would come through. but you knew, deep down, that wasn’t going to happen. he wasn’t coming. maybe you shouldn’t have expected anything. maybe you should’ve extinguished that spark of hope before it could set you ablaze. but you didn’t. you never did. and it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

the car hummed beneath you as you drove through the familiar streets, the sound of tires on asphalt a low, constant rhythm. you had spent hours getting ready, the weight of the day pressing against you as you meticulously chose the outfit—a gold bodycon dress that clung to your curves, hugging every inch of your form, a golden strap resting around your neck shimmered in the fading light. you had layered the gold more subtly than yesterday, but it still caught the eye with its gleam, like a whisper of elegance in the dim evening light. your heels clicked sharply against the floor of your car as you shifted, checking your reflection one last time, the gold dress and matching shoes completing the look, but still, you felt incomplete. your hair cascaded down your back, and you’d carefully applied just enough makeup to cover the evidence of the tears you’d shed.

the drive to the estate was quiet, almost like the calm before the storm. by the time you pulled up to the house, the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, the deep hues of nightfall creeping in. you sat there for a moment, the engine idling as you stared ahead, thinking about the emptiness that seemed to grow inside of you the longer you sat there.

you finally exhaled, pushing open the door and stepping out. the cool air hit you, making the tightness in your chest feel a little more unbearable. as you walked up the driveway, your heels clicking on the pavement, you saw him—rafe—leaning against the porch railing, his eyes trained on you as soon as you approached. his usual smirk spread across his face, but it was tinged with something else, something more curious as he took in your appearance.

“a little overdressed for mass, aren't you?” he quipped, his voice light, though his gaze was anything but. his eyes moved over the gold dress, the way it hugged you in all the right places, and you could feel the weight of his attention on you like a physical thing.

you didn’t respond at first, not sure how to react to his gaze, which lingered on you longer than usual. a breath caught in your throat, but you pushed it away, continuing toward the door. you had more important things to do tonight than engage with him. you just needed to get through this—this night, this birthday, everything. rafe, however, wasn’t about to let you go so easily. as you reached for the door, he stood up, pushing himself off the railing to block your path.

“happy birthday,” he said, the words soft now, an unfamiliar sincerity in his tone.

you paused, looking at him, feeling the weight of the moment as his eyes searched yours. “thanks,” you muttered, your voice flat. “you, top, and kels gonna join us tonight?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as if the question was casual, but there was an edge to it.

he raised an eyebrow. “where to?”

you shrugged, playing it off, though the emptiness inside you made it harder to keep the facade up. “viva, around nine. no big deal.”

his expression shifted, impressed but masking it behind a sardonically raised brow. “not even i can get into that joint. guess the people love you,” he said, his tone more biting now.

you nodded, unsure of what else to say, unsure of what to do. you just stood there, your eyes caught in his. something about the way he looked at you, a mixture of curiosity and something darker, made you feel exposed, like he could see right through you.

“we’ll be there,” he added after a moment, something less than a smile curling at the edges of his lips. it wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t mocking either. just something different. you smiled back, but it was small, uncertain. you nodded, stepping past him and into the house. the air felt colder inside, the silence pressing against you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

you made your way upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood as you walked toward sarah’s room. the door was slightly ajar, and when you pushed it open, you found her sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. the moment she saw you, her face lit up with a smile that could have rivaled the sun, and before you knew it, she was up and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in tightly.

“happy birthday, baby,” she whispered, burying her head in the crook of your neck, her warmth a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside. “we’ll make it your best, i promise.”

for a moment, you let yourself melt into the embrace, letting the love and care from her soak through you. but as she pulled back, her hands taking yours with a smile, her eyes caught sight of something. her expression shifted, the smile fading as she noticed the wetness in your eyes.

“baby, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice suddenly laced with concern.

you shook your head, trying to push the tears away, but they came anyway. you squeezed her hands tightly, the words barely able to escape your lips. “he’s not coming, sarah,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you felt the weight of the truth hit you. “my dad’s not coming.”

her face fell instantly, her arms wrapping around you again as she pulled you in closer. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered over and over, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “i got you, you’ll be okay. you’re alright.”

but the words didn’t stop the tears. they spilled freely now, hot and relentless, as sarah held you tight, her presence the only thing anchoring you in the moment. you let yourself cry, the weight of everything you had been holding in finally coming to the surface.

unbeknownst to either of you, rafe stood frozen just outside the door, his back pressed against the wall as he listened. he bit his nail, his gaze fixed on the ground, but his mind was far away. the sound of your sobs tugged at something inside him—something raw, something human. and in that moment, he understood. no one acted out for no reason. no one. and now he knew why you did.

the night air was thick, heavy, as you stepped into the car. rafe was already in the passenger seat, his posture rigid, jaw tight. you settled into the driver’s seat, your fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the steering wheel. the silence between the two of you was suffocating, the kind that crawled under your skin and festered, making every breath feel labored. you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, his profile sharp in the dim light, his eyes staring ahead, unseeing, yet somehow deeply observant.

the quiet stretched on, and neither of you moved to break it. the air felt like it might crack under the weight of unspoken words, until finally, he did. “we don’t have to go to the club tonight,” he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the stillness like a knife.

you turned your head slightly, your brow furrowing as his words hung in the air between you. he didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. you knew exactly what he meant. why go? why waste your birthday in a haze of liquor and music, knowing you’d wake up tomorrow with nothing but a pounding headache and a hollow ache in your chest? why numb yourself, knowing it wouldn’t work?

“i can’t,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost fragile.

he nodded, understanding in a way that made your stomach churn. it wasn’t that you wanted to go. it wasn’t even that you needed to go. but you couldn’t not go. you couldn’t sit in the house and let the quiet consume you, couldn’t face the crushing reality of what the day symbolized. rafe opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but the back door opened before he could. sarah slid into the seat, her presence immediately filling the space with a warmth that felt like a lifeline. she reached over, placing a comforting hand on your thigh and offering a smile—gentle, knowing, as if she could read every thought swirling in your head.

“it’s gonna be okay,” she said simply, her voice soft yet steady, like she believed it enough for the both of you.

and somehow, it was enough. you felt your lips twitch into a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest as you nodded and turned the key in the ignition. the engine roared to life, and the car hummed beneath you as you pulled out of the driveway, the night stretching out before you like a promise and a threat all at once. the drive to the club was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine and the muted chatter from sarah’s phone. by the time you reached the club, the neon lights were already casting their glow across the pavement, painting the night in shades of electric blue and pink. kelce and topper were waiting near the entrance, their figures silhouetted against the vibrant backdrop.

kelce was the first to approach, a wide grin on his face as he spread his arms dramatically. “it’s yo’ birthday, so i know you want to ri-i-ide out,” he sang, his voice teasing as he reached out to pull you into a bear hug.

you rolled your eyes, swatting at his chest as you laughed despite yourself. “you’re an idiot,” you muttered, but there was a warmth in your tone that hadn’t been there before.

topper was next, stepping forward with a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his hug softer, more tentative. “you look really, really good,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “happy birthday, doll.”

you pulled back just enough to smile up at him, your expression genuine, if a little tired. but as you met his gaze, you felt the weight of another stare burning into your back. rafe stood a few steps behind you, his posture tense, his fists clenched at his sides. his jaw worked as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and topper. the look on his face was unreadable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

he could feel his blood boiling, the vein in his neck throbbing as he watched you smile at topper. he doesn’t get it, rafe thought bitterly. he doesn’t understand.

topper couldn’t see you the way rafe did. he couldn’t pick apart the pieces of you that you tried so desperately to hide, couldn’t reach into the deepest, darkest corners of your mind and pull out the things you were too afraid to face. topper didn’t know you like rafe did. he didn’t understand you. and the worst part? there was nothing rafe could do about it. not here, not now. so he shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw tightening as he followed behind the group, his eyes never leaving your back as you made your way into the club. the music hit you like a wave the moment you stepped inside, the bass vibrating through your chest as the lights flashed in time with the rhythm.

the bouncer led your group through the heart of the club, weaving past packed tables and the glowing bar, where patrons leaned in to shout orders over the pounding music. the vip section was tucked into a quieter corner, though still pulsating with energy. elevated above the main floor, it offered an unobstructed view of the dancefloor below, with plush, leather seating that curved around a sleek glass table illuminated by soft, golden lighting. bottles of premium spirits and mixers lined the backlit shelves behind the bar like trophies, and the hum of wealth and exclusivity hung in the air.

kelce let out a low whistle as he plopped onto one of the couches, sprawling out like he owned the place. “man, i feel my trust fund going through withdrawals just standing here,” he quipped, nudging topper, who laughed as he leaned back, his eyes scanning the room.

you couldn’t help but smile at their antics as you took it all in. the place was opulent, a temple to indulgence and excess, and for a brief moment, it was easy to forget the ache in your chest. the bartender approached your section, a polished man in a crisp shirt and tie, his movements smooth and practiced.

you straightened your posture and glanced around at the group, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “so,” you said, clapping your hands together lightly. “what are we drinking? my treat.”

the others stared at you, surprised. sarah raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “shouldn’t we be treating you?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

you waved her off with a dismissive gesture. “as if, guys. this place is expensive, it’s fine,” you replied, brushing off her words as though they were nothing.

but rafe’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he watched the interaction. it wasn’t fine. he could see it so clearly—the way you were trying to bury your pain beneath lavish distractions, throwing money around as if the hole in your wallet could somehow fill the one in your heart.

you didn’t wait for their protests, turning to the bartender with a confident smile. “chilled bucket,” you began, your tone even and composed, “we’ll do grey goose, nolet’s reserve, and some vodka sodas.”

as you reached into your purse and handed him your credit card, his eyes flicked over you appreciatively, lingering on the way your gold dress shimmered under the dim lights. “real big fan,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “dress is amazing, miss archibald.”

you forced a polite smile, nodding briefly as he walked away with your card. kelce and topper exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity, but rafe wasn’t laughing.

“that’s almost a grand you just spent,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the music.

you turned to him, your expression neutral. “it’s okay,” you said softly, as though repeating it might make it true. “just for tonight.” but he saw through you. he always did.

to everyone else, it might have seemed like you were simply indulging in the luxury the night demanded. but rafe knew better. he’d seen this pattern before—women in his orbit spending money as a salve for something deeper, using extravagance to mask emptiness. he’d always dismissed it as shallow, as meaningless. there was nothing to search for beneath their bold lipstick and sun-kissed skin, no hidden depths to uncover. but not with you. there was something beneath the surface of your carefully curated façade, something raw and real that you couldn’t quite hide. and it gnawed at him, this feeling of wanting to understand you, to know the truth of who you were behind the gold dress and the polite smiles. he didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

as the bartender returned with the drinks, setting them on the table with practiced ease, you picked up a vodka soda and raised it in a silent toast, your eyes flicking between the group with a small smile. “to tonight,” you said, your voice steady, though your eyes betrayed the storm brewing inside. everyone raised their glasses in response, cheers erupting as they leaned into the moment. but rafe stayed quiet, his gaze lingering on you, wondering if he’d ever get close enough to see the truth beneath the gold.

the energy was contagious, almost. the ambient bass thumped through the plush leather seats, rattling glasses on the illuminated table. laughter spilled freely, a mix of light-hearted giggles and drunken cackles, as the liquor flowed and the group reveled in the luxury surrounding them. the air smelled of expensive perfume, vodka, and the faint, metallic tang of ice.

kelce leaned back, swirling a tumbler of gin, his cheeks flushed as he tried to make topper laugh. topper, already several drinks in, leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin, his hair sticking to his forehead. sarah sat close to you, her hand lightly brushing yours as she twirled the remnants of vodka in her glass. you cracked open a vodka soda, the sharp hiss of carbonation cutting through the din of music and conversation. the moment the can opened, it sprayed everywhere, misting you and sarah. you squealed, recoiling as droplets of chilled liquid dotted your arms and face.

“oh my god!” sarah gasped, laughing as she frantically patted at her dress.

“sorry, sorry!” you cried, giggling uncontrollably as you grabbed a napkin to dab her arm.

“you are so buying me a new outfit,” she teased, but the twinkle in her eye told you she didn’t mean it.

the group erupted into laughter, kelce pounding the table with his fist. “what is this, amateur hour?” he mocked, earning a playful shove from topper.

“don’t act like you’re not next,” you shot back, shaking your head as you grabbed the vodka bottle from the bucket. the liquor was cold against your palm, the condensation dampening your hand.

in the background, act a fool blared through the speakers, the lyrics blending seamlessly with the buzz of conversation. rafe sat apart from the group, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were trained on you. his gin sat untouched in a crystal glass, the ice melting slowly. while everyone else laughed and joked, he watched you with an intensity that set him apart, his jaw tight as you brought the vodka bottle to your lips.

you leaned toward sarah, your movements slightly sluggish, your words slurring as you said, “i have to tell you something.”

she raised an eyebrow, giggling at your serious tone. “what’s that?”

you sighed dramatically, gesturing around the room. “i’ve gotten everything i’ve ever wanted, but i have one wish.”

sarah’s laughter softened into curiosity as she tilted her head. “i’ll grant you three,” she teased, her voice warm and affectionate.

you leaned closer, resting your chin on her shoulder as you whispered, “you and me. we’re thirty, living in california. we have a beach house in italy. these boys,” you waved dismissively, your free hand gesturing toward the guys. “…are just placeholders. we live together.”

sarah blinked, her expression shifting as her smile faltered. something in your voice, in the quiet yearning beneath your playful tone, struck a chord. she frowned, her eyes glistening as if tears were just a breath away. “i’ll drink to that,” she murmured, leaning over rafe to wrap her arms around you. the embrace was warm and comforting, sarah’s laugh mingling with yours as you passed her the vodka bottle. she took a swig, grimacing slightly as the sharp burn hit her throat.

across the table, kelce and topper exchanged a glance. “they’re not about to make out, are they?” kelce whispered, grinning mischievously.

topper slapped his arm, rolling his eyes. “shut up, man.”

rafe finally moved, setting his glass down with a soft clink. his voice cut through the noise, steady and authoritative. “hey, hey, hey, okay,” he said, leaning forward and grabbing the vodka bottle from sarah’s hand. he set it down firmly on the table. “you’ve both had enough to drink. settle down.”

you turned to him, your eyes glassy and your lips curling into a small, defiant smile. “you haven’t had enough,” you whispered, leaning against his shoulder.

the contact sent a jolt through him, his spine stiffening as your warmth seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt. your proximity was intoxicating, your breath brushing against his skin as your words hung in the air like a challenge. for a moment, he was frozen, caught off guard by the way you disarmed him so effortlessly. his pulse quickened, but he didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe as your weight rested against him.

topper, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening. “alright, that’s enough,” he muttered, reaching out to pull you upright. but rafe didn’t move, his gaze locked on you, his hand steady on the vodka bottle as if anchoring himself. something unspoken passed between you, a charged silence that neither of you dared to break.

the night was teetering on the edge of chaos, the atmosphere thick with liquor-fueled exhilaration and the sharp tang of tension. the flashing lights from the dance floor illuminated your golden dress, reflecting in the swirling haze of smoke and sweat. the crowd moved as one, their energy magnetized toward you and sarah as you spun her under the pulsing beat. the music thumped louder, and the bartender, noticing the rising excitement, wiped down the counter with a quick slap of his rag. he gestured toward the two of you, his grin wide as he motioned for you to step up.

“come on,” you said, your voice cutting through the music as you pulled sarah toward the bar. her protests were faint, drowned out by your infectious confidence.

with a laugh, you guided her up onto the counter, steadying her with a firm grip on her hands. the cheers around you erupted into a frenzy as you began to move, your body swaying and rolling in perfect rhythm with the music. the lights caught every facet of your dress, sending shards of gold cascading across the room. sarah followed your lead, her movements growing more fluid as you guided her hips with your hands. she blushed under your touch, her laughter blending with the roar of the crowd. you leaned into her, arching your back just enough to draw more cheers.

the vodka bottle in your hand sloshed slightly as you crouched low, balancing effortlessly on your heels. tipping the bottle over the edge of the counter, you poured a stream of vodka toward the eager mouths below, eliciting more hollers and applause. the crowd drank it up, their cheers climbing to a fever pitch as you returned to your feet, twirling sarah into another spin.

the boys were transfixed. kelce leaned against the table, his grin wide as he shook his head. “i got a hundred riding on this night ending with an ambulance,” he slurred, though his eyes lingered on you.

topper, already three sheets to the wind, chuckled. “man, she’s something else,” he murmured, his gaze locked on your form as you danced. he leaned back, smirking as he added, “i think i’m gonna ask her out tonight.”

kelce let out a loud cheer, raising his glass in mock celebration. “see you at the gym, top.”

but rafe sat rigid, his jaw tight and his glass clutched too firmly in his hand. he drained the rest of his gin in one sharp motion, his knuckles whitening as he reached for the bottle to refill.

when topper caught the expression on his face, his grin turned into a taunt. he tilted his head, feigning innocence as he asked, “something to say, cameron?”

rafe shrugged, pouring another drink without looking at him. “do what you want,” he said, his tone low and biting. “it’s your funeral.”

topper’s smirk faltered, his drunken bravado shifting into something darker. “what the fuck’s your problem?” he demanded, leaning in. “mad you don’t get the girl for once?”

the taunt hung in the air, baiting rafe in a way that was impossible to ignore. his grip tightened on the neck of the bottle as he leaned forward, his voice dripping with venom. “not as mad as you’ll be when i tell you that we fucked,” he spat.

the silence that followed was deafening. kelce froze, his eyes wide as he glanced between the two, anticipation crackling in the air. the music continued to pound, but it felt muted, the tension between rafe and topper swallowing everything else. topper’s expression darkened, his fist curling at his side. then, without warning, he lunged forward, his punch connecting with rafe’s jaw with a sickening crack. he stumbled back, toppling over the couch as the room erupted into chaos. the cheers turned into gasps, all eyes snapping to the commotion in the section. but rafe wasn’t down for long. he was back on his feet in an instant, his jaw set and his eyes blazing.

“is that all you got, bitch?” he barked, his voice carrying over the music as he launched himself at topper, tackling him to the ground.

kelce, still lounging on the couch, doubled over in laughter. “stop the violence,” he slurred, pulling out his phone to record the fight. “white trash.” he added with a cackle, his voice barely audible over the shouts and scuffle.

the fight had turned vicious. topper lunged again, his fist swinging hard enough to make the crowd around them flinch. he caught rafe across the cheekbone, the sharp smack of skin on skin cutting through the music. “take it back!” he shouted, his voice raw with anger.

rafe stumbled but didn’t go down. his lip split, blood trickling to his chin as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. he smirked, that infuriating smirk that always made topper see red. “why, top? gonna shed a tear or two?” rafe taunted, his words slurred but sharp.

topper grabbed the front of rafe’s shirt, pulling him close. “say you lied!”

rafe laughed, low and mocking. “why would I? you really think you’ve got a shot with her? come on, man. she’d chew you up and spit you out.”

kelce, leaning back on the couch, was practically howling with laughter as he filmed. “oh, this is gold. gonna do numbers on snap.” he slurred, zooming in as topper shoved rafe back, only for rafe to retaliate with a fist to his jaw.

the bouncers at the edge of the chaos exchanged amused glances. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head, nudged his partner. “fifty says the tall one in the blazer goes down first,” he said.

“nah,” the other replied, shaking his head. “that one—rafe, right? he’s got crazy in his eyes. i’ll take the other guy.”

the blows became sloppier as the alcohol took its toll, but the rage between the two burned hot and bright. rafe tackled topper to the ground, the two of them grappling as the crowd shouted and jeered. that’s when you noticed. your attention, previously fixed on sarah and the music, shifted to the commotion. your heart sank as you recognized the figures on the floor. “jesus,” you muttered, pushing through the crowd. “what the fuck are they doing?”

kelce turned to you, grinning as he kept filming. “oh, you know boys, always roughhousing,” he cackled, his words thick with gin.

you shot him a glare before grabbing a nearby vodka soda, cracking it open with a sharp hiss. without hesitation, you stepped into the fray, tipping the can over their heads. the cold liquid drenched both of them, startling them into stillness. “what the fuck?” rafe spat, blinking up at you as the vodka dripped down his face.

you glared down at him, your chest heaving. “are you done?” you snapped, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to his feet. “we’re leaving.”

rafe tried to resist, but your grip was firm, and his drunken state left him little room to argue. the crowd parted as you pulled him through, cameras flashing as you emerged into the cool night air. outside, the chaos faded into quiet, the muffled thump of the music barely audible. you stopped by a bench, releasing rafe’s arm as you took a shaky breath. the night air bit at your damp skin, and you sat down, your pulse still racing.

he stood there for a moment, staring at you. then, slowly, he sank down beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion.

“i’m sorry,” he said, the words soft and unexpected.

you turned to him, your brows furrowing as you took in his bruised face. his eyes were glassy, his lip swollen, but his expression was sincere.

“i’m sorry for everything,” he continued, his voice rough. “for being an ass, for decking topper. i did it because i’m wired that way, okay? you just—you left that morning. you were gone, just like that. i woke up, i could still smell you, you and your stupid perfume. and i turned around, and you were gone, like i was waking up from a dream that was never meant to be.”

his words hit you like a blow, your chest tightening as you struggled to respond. “i’m sorry,” you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. “i can’t stay. you know i can’t.”

he shook his head, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “i’m not him,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “i’m not your dad. i’m not gonna leave.”

and just like that, the dam broke. tears spilled down your cheeks, and you hated how vulnerable you felt, but rafe didn’t. he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your body shook with sobs.

“you spend this time with a scab, and you expect it to heal,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “but how can you do that if you keep picking at it?”

he pulled back, his fingers tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “anybody who’s had the pleasure of knowing your name just to lose you—they’ll regret that for the rest of their lives. and he will, too. but i’m not him. god, i could never be him. i could never let go of someone like you. i’d spend the rest of my life searching for you if i did.”

his words cracked something deep inside you, and when his hand stroked your cheek, trailing to the underside of your jaw, you didn’t pull away. his lips met yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch, his desperation coursing as though he feared you might disappear at any moment.

when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, relief flooding his expression when he saw you were still there. “i love you,” he murmured, the words so quiet you almost missed them.

you shook your head, your voice trembling. “i’m damaged goods, rafe.”

but he kissed you again, silencing your protests. When he pulled back, he whispered, “you could never be damaged, not you. and even if you were, even if you kept falling apart, i’d keep putting you back together. over and over again.”

his arms tightened around you as you cried, his grip unwavering, as if you were gonna disappear—and as far as he was concerned, it was possible. he needed it to last, just in case. just in case this was fate being cruel, god laughing at him from afar, ready to snatch you away again. he’d let you slip away once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

the silence of your home was deafening. the weight of everything lingered, pressing heavily on your chest as you sank onto the couch. your dress clung to your damp skin, and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands. for once, you didn’t talk to yourself, didn’t pace the room pretending you felt safe, didn’t toss and turn, praying for someone to come home and tuck you in. you just sat there, letting the stillness wrap around you like a heavy, unwelcome blanket.

“you’re biting off more than you can chew,” you muttered finally, your voice cutting through the quiet.

but this time, you weren’t talking to yourself. you weren’t talking to the father who’d never respond.

from below you, rafe’s voice came soft and steady. “you’re not gonna push me away,” he said, kneeling in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. his fingers traced light, soothing patterns on your skin, grounding you. “not again.”

a small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as your hands fell from your face. your fingers reached out instinctively, cupping his jaw, your touch feather-light. “sorry, was i doing that?” you teased, though your voice wavered.

rafe stood slowly, towering over you, his presence commanding as it was comforting. his hand brushed your hair back from your face, his eyes searching yours. “you can keep doing that,” he murmured, his voice low and unwavering. “because i’m not going anywhere either way.”

you couldn’t hold back the small smile that broke through, your face still streaked with the remnants of tears. “you’re not gonna like what you see, rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a vulnerability you hadn’t let anyone see before.

his thumb stroked your cheek, his hand warm and steady as it cupped your jaw. “do your worst,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering.

you stood, brushing past him, your steps slow and deliberate as you faced away. “i liked it,” you began, your voice fragile yet resolute. “the attention, the drinking, all of it. i could make it through my days of pity parties and waiting for something that was never going to come because i could pretend—pretend to be someone else, even if it was just for a few hours.”

rafe’s eyes never left you, his breath steady, waiting. “and who did you pretend to be?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing away the stray tear that rolled down your cheek as you turned back to him.

you exhaled shakily, the words breaking as they left your lips. “i’d pretend like i was still someone’s little girl. just for a little while.”

his hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and his lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that felt foreign, new. the kiss was sweet, patient, the kind of kiss that made your heart stutter. it was soft, unhurried, but beneath it was something so much more different that what you were used to. you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as if letting go meant losing him. he didn’t falter, didn’t break away. Instead, his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. he turned, sinking back onto the couch with you in his lap, his lips never leaving yours.

his breath was warm against your skin as he whispered, “you can hide as much as you want. i’ll run away and hide with you.”

a genuine smile broke through your defenses, the first in what felt like years. it wasn’t forced or fleeting—it was real. and it was because of him.

you kissed him again, this time with more urgency, more heat. his hands roamed your back, steady but hungry, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of you. his fingers found the zipper of your dress, pausing for a moment as if asking permission. you nodded, your breath hitching as he pulled the zipper down, his hands brushing your skin as the fabric slipped away. you tugged at his shirt in return, your fingers fumbling slightly, but he helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

his hands, warm and firm, cupped your waist, his touch reverent as his lips found yours again. “god,” he murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with emotion. “i just wanna feel you—really feel you. not what you show the world, not the mask. just you.”

your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, letting the dress fall away from your shoulders, the fabric pooling around you. he kissed you deeper, his hands exploring, but gentle, as if he knew the fragility of your trust. your body responded, leaning into him, the heat between you growing as the fabric of his pants rubbed against your bare thighs.

his mouth trailed down your neck, kissing a soft line to your collarbone, and you shivered, your hands tightening on his shoulders. he pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for reassurance. you nodded, your breath coming in gasps as you whispered, “yes, rafe—yes, i want this, i want you.”

his eyes lit up, a warmth that spread through you like a warm embrace, and he kissed you again, this time with an intensity that made your knees go weak. his hands moved to unhook your bra, the fabric slipping away to reveal your bare tits to the cool air. he took his time, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders, as he trailed towards your breasts, his touch light and reverent, as if he was worshipping every inch of you.

you felt exposed, but not in the way you had with others. with rafe, it was different. you felt seen, understood—like he knew the secrets etched into your soul and loved you for them. as his kisses grew bolder, so did your desire, your hands sliding down to unbuckle his belt, to push his pants aside. your heart hammered in your chest as your skin met his, the sensation electric, as if the air around you crackled with energy.

his hand slid up your thigh, and you felt him, hard and eager against you, and for once, you weren’t afraid. you weren’t just giving in—you were choosing this. choosing him.

his thumb brushed against your center, and a soft moan escaped your lips. his eyes searched yours, and when he found what he was looking for—consent, trust—his hand slid further, pushing aside the last of your barriers, watching the way your panties slid off the flesh of your thighs with desire in his eyes

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the urgency growing as his fingers moved with a gentle skill that had you arching into his touch. your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as you focused on the feeling of him, of this moment, of the way he was making you feel.

his other hand found your cheek, turning your face to his, and he kissed you again, his eyes never leaving yours as he entered you, slow and sure, filling the emptiness you’d felt for so long. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure, but with rafe, it was different—it was healing. you let out a moan as you held onto him, his dick pushing into you, splitting you in a way that had his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, as he began to thrust into you, the rhythm steady and soothing, his eyes never leaving yours. your breathing synced with his, your bodies moving together as if they’d always been meant to, and in that moment, you forgot about your father, your issues, the weight of the world. there was only rafe. he let out a groan as he lifted your legs, pushing them back, leaning forward to take advantage of the angle that had his dick throbbing.

his voice was a whisper in your ear, “i love you, baby,” and the words sunk into you like warm rain, washing away the doubt, filling you up until you felt like you might burst with the emotion.

your eyes snapped open, and you stared at him, your breath catching. “you love me?” you breathed, your voice trembling with hope.

his smile was gentle, his eyes full of love and tenderness. “more than anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth as he thrusted into you. “more than i thought possible.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your walls crumbling away. the love you’d been so afraid to admit washed over you, mixing with the pleasure of his touch. your hips moved with his, your bodies finding a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. his hand moved between your legs, his thumb brushing against your clit with a precision that had you gasping, your nails digging into his back.

you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your stomach, your muscles tightening around him. rafe noticed, his eyes darkening with passion, his breath coming in harsh pants. “come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “let go—i’ve got you.”

you did, letting yourself fall over the edge, the pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. rafe followed, his movements becoming erratic as he buried his face in your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. your bodies shuddered together, the intensity of your release leaving you boneless and weak. when he came inside you, there was no panic, no yelling, no running. he was still there, and so were you.

afterwards, he held you close, your heartbeats syncing as your breaths grew steadier. the room was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, but it was comforting rather than suffocating. rafe’s hand stroked your hair, his kisses tender and gentle as they trailed down your neck and along your collarbone. you leaned into him, feeling safe and loved in a way you never had before. the silence was no longer a prison but a sanctuary, a space where you could breathe and just be.

he could have this, he could enjoy it, knowing that you wouldn’t disappear when the morning came. not this time.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: take a shot whenever topper and kelce exchange a glance pls i giggled writing this