#tw: drugs

[arrowsnsarcasm]

He barely had time to breathe out in relief before Wally was back. “Don’t be,” Roy told him, sighing quietly as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the other man’s for a moment, just breathing in the silence with him before pulling back again.

“Now,” he added, wiping Wally’s tears away carefully. “You said something about a movie?”

*Wally had set up everything he needed to play and sing in his apartment living room and double checked his guitar to make sure it really was tuned right. He then took a deep breath to get his nerves under controll a bit, stopping himself from phisically vibrating from being a bit nervous, a hand moving through his messy orange mohawk that he had since a while now. While still waiting for Roy, he quickly double checked the music sheets he had for the song just in case. He then frowned a bit and quickly grabbed music sheets for other songs as well.

@wally-is-fast

It had been a while since he’d even seen Wally, so Roy was looking forward to this for a number of reasons. And he hoped they got to jam soon—he was pretty sure Ollie would fork over the cash for a drum set if he really asked—but for now he was content to listen. Pausing outside the speedster’s door, he knocked and waited.

[bl00dalchemist]

Kakuzu bought it for him.

[ktkat99]

Tim, falling asleep at the dinner table

Jason- Finally. I was wondering when those sedatives would kick in

Dick- Wait, you sedated Tim??

Jason- The kid hasn't slept in like four days. What did you expect me to do, ask nice?

Dick- I sedated him, too.

Damian- And me

Steph- Same. He needed sleep

Dick, panicking- Alright, anyone who slipped Tim something today raise your hand

Everyone raises their hand

Dick-...

Dick-... Well, fuck

Dick-... Tim, put your hand down

[machinecatgirl]

ELECTROCHEMISTRY

[syntheticsymp]

no i need more of stoner könig 😭🤍

Of course, babes! Stoner konig Drabble coming right up! It became a little longer than I expected, so be warned. Thank you for the ask!!

The edible Horangi bought for Konig was definitely stronger than the joints he was used to smoking in the silence of his home. Originally, Konig hadn’t thought much of the little packaged brownie. He had even laughed at it.

But he wasn’t laughing anymore.

He usually smoked just enough to take the edge off. Not so much that he ended up catatonic, not so little that he was still riddled with nerves. It was a delicate line. Still, he tried his best never to cross it.

However, the brownie hit like a truck. To say he was stoned was an understatement. And it took alot for him to get high. The amount of weed baked into the chocolate must have been enough to kill a small animal. Horangi certainly wasn’t messing around when he bought them from whatever store he went to.

That’s how the giant Austrian man ended up, once again at your doorstep, at three in the morning. He always got home late on his first night back. Still, this was later than usual.

He knocked on the door once. You didn’t answer. So, he tried again.

His cheeks were burning beneath his mask. Was two times too many to knock on your door? Probably. Besides, he didn’t want to bother you more than usual.

The negative thoughts were buried as quickly as they appeared, spun around and folded over. You always let him in when he was just high enough to interact with you. And you did say he was always welcome in your home. So, surely tonight was no different?

Konig bent down on one knee, picking the lock on your door. His fingers weren’t nimble like some of his teammate’s. They were thick, scarred, and a little shaky. When it came to doors, he was more of a ‘break it down’ guy than a ‘pick the lock’ guy. But he didn’t want you to be upset that he broke your door, and risk getting kicked out. And it wasn’t too much of a hassle to pick the lock, since the shoddy metal came undone so easily. He would really have to talk to you about getting better security measures. There were dangerous people around these parts.

He stumbled onto his feet, his footsteps heavy as he creaked open your door, and let himself inside. His training had taught him how to properly balance his weight to keep from making a single sound, yet this wasn’t a stealth mission. He was sloppy, a little uncoordinated, as he made his way to your familiar kitchen.

Waking you up could wait a little longer while he got something to eat. Maybe a glass of water, too.

The cabinet you kept your snacks in was to the far left. He checked there first, rustling through the contents like a stray dog searching for food, until he finally found something he recognized. A thin, yellow box.

You had kept his favorite snacks well stocked. How considerate of his Libeling.

He opened the fresh bag of Goldfish Crackers, shoving handfuls into his mouth underneath the mask. After living off military food for so long, any type of snack was close to Heaven on earth. Though, the real Heaven was just down the hall.

The sound of him chewing was loud as he made his way down to your bedroom. You had to be here, somewhere, right?

He knew the door to the right was the bathroom, meaning the one across from it had to be where you were! You surely weren’t ignoring him on purpose. You were just asleep.

Using the last skills of stealth he had, Konig opened the door to your bedroom. Ah! You were just as beautiful as you always were. Whenever you were sleeping, you were just so peaceful. It didn’t matter to him if you were embarrassed about how you looked how you slept, to him, it was perfect. A moment he would love to savor. Maybe one day, if he worked up the courage to see you while sober, he could get to immortalize the photo. But for now, he was content with a glance.

His boots never crossed the threshold of your bedroom, he never gave in and went to sit beside you. Instead, he waited like the puppy he was. The military had taught him much about patience.

As if you felt his eyes on you, you started to stir awake. Konig watched with fascination. Usually, you left for work before he woke up. Meaning, this was the first time he got to see you all disoriented and tired.

It took you a moment to register the shadow standing in your doorway. Your first instinct was to fight, but after getting to your feet, you realized who was there. “What the hell...? Konig?”

He couldn't keep from giggling at your recognition. You looked so confused in your little pajamas as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“You weren’t awake to let us in,” he said dumbly.

There were many sensible things you could have done in that moment. A giant military man with no qualms for killing was standing just outside your bedroom after breaking in. Even if he was your friend (sort of), that was definitely a red flag.

You rubbed your face, letting out a long sigh. “You could have just waited until morning to visit.”

He blinked like a frog, one eye at a time, as if you had revealed an entirely new concept to him. The only indication of his guilt smile behind his mask was the way his eyes crinkled up. “Ah, I suppose so.”

Behind his back, he clasped his hands together, waiting for something. It took you a moment to realize what he wanted.

“Do you want to come in my bedroom?” You asked after an awkward moment of silence.

He nodded. After breaking an entering, he was still nervous. The lines he crossed and the ones he didn’t were so strange. They almost seemed random. But you knew they weren’t.

Scooting to the side of your bed, you patted the space beside you. Konig often fell asleep with you. Yet he had never done so in your bedroom. The man had only ever been confined to the couch.

Even now, as he walked into the room with an expression of terror that broke through the calm, he sat on the edge of your bed. It was unlike him. Usually, Konig flopped wherever he wanted, not getting up for hours. This was new.

You watched him carefully as the bed dipped under his weight. He explored the bed like a dog that had never been offered one. In the bunks, he had never been offered more than two pillows at a time, and that was if he got lucky. Meanwhile, you had more pillows and blankets than he could ever dream of. Maybe this place truly was heaven.

The two of you ended up lying on your sides, facing eachother.

All the anxiety medicine in the world couldn’t have stopped his heart from racing as you lay across from him. You were actually coming to him this time! Ah, his Leibling was starting to trust him. It was a wonderful feeling.

While you were trying to go back to sleep, Konig was just staring. He didn’t say a single thing, he was too far gone, his eyes clearly unfocused. His breathing was heavy behind the mask.

Trying to break him from the trance, you teased, “You reek of weed.”

His cheeks flushed beneath his mask. Were you truly mad at him for smelling so bad? He couldn’t tell.

Instead of responding, he gave a simple huff. You let him in numerous times after smoking, so an edible surely wouldn't have affected him that badly. Your hands eventually found their way to hug hum closer, and he eventually planted his nose in his favorite spot, just between your breasts.

Relationships had always been such a foreign concept to Konig. When he took off his mask, he wasn’t anyone people particularly wanted. That, he learned from his bullies at a young age. There were some faces so hideous not even height could make up for. He used to believe he wouldn’t be able to find anyone who cared.

Now, he had you.

His mother used to tell him he was special. That, why yes, of course, there was someone out there waiting for him. He wanted to believe it. He never did. Until finding you.

Konig shoved his face deeper against your chest, burying his nose between your breasts without remorse. For the night, he wasn’t nervous. For the night, he was high enough to live without regret.

“You’re totally wiped out, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help teasing him as you ran your hands up and down his back. “How much did you take?”

The mask tickled your skin as he responded, “Ask Horangi.” His tone wasn’t unkind. Once again, he failed to elaborate, instead starting a new topic. “Actually, don’t. I don’t want you to visit the base.”

You patted his head, fighting the urge to laugh at the way he backpedaled. Your chest shaking only caused you to press against him more. “Why not? Are you scared I’ll be too intimidating for them?”

Konig suddenly shifted his weight. Shit, you forgot how heavy he was as he crushed you beneath him, his head staying firmly planted on your chest. It took a moment for you to breathe.

To answer your question, he shook his head, looking at you with the eyes of a killer. “No. I want you to stay here. That way I know where to find you.”

You think he meant it to be romantic. But with his tone, it sounded vaguely threatening.

He buried his face in your shoulder, slouching dramatically to make himself fit against you. Konig seemed to forget the cloth mask acting as a barrier as he let his lips rest against your skin. The conversation was clearly over.

With the weighted blanket of a man ontop of you, you couldn’t get much sleep. It was a hard thing to do when you’re being suffocated. He laughed breathily at the subtle way you squirmed beneath him, trying to get comfortable. You looked like a moth with its wings pinned back.

He wrapped his arms around you, placing his hands on your stomach and kneading gently. You jerked back but he didn’t let go, grabbing your knee easily. His big hands pawed at you, too high to feel an ounce of guilt.

It was the pinch to your stomach that finally brought you back to reality.

“Konig- gentle!” You tried to remind him.

Konig scoffed, his body tensing, but not letting go of you. “Ja, Ja,” he mumbled.

The thing about him was that he wasn’t a ‘gentle giant.’ No, he was quite the opposite.

He was capable of so much violence. And he had no trouble acting on such impulses. But for a civilian like you, he could reign it in—just a little.

For a moment, you thought Konig was actually going to listen to you. He started to pull back, his grip becoming looser, his thick fingers no longer digging into the soft flesh of your stomach and opting to hold to the plush blanket beneath you.

Then, he went back in. He pulled up his mask with one hand, not enough to show his face, but enough to throw it over your head, letting it engulf the both of you as he pressed a wet kiss to your cheek. His hooked nose bumped against your cheekbone as he smiled against you. The man was so far gone on cloud nine you doubted you could manage to talk any rationale into him.

“Pretty, pretty Leibling,” he mumbled to himself as he threaded his fingers through your hair, the calloused accidentally tugging at the strands. The faintest of lights shined through the fabric of his mask and lit up his eyes. You could see every emotion reflected inside of them.

You laughed, the inside of his mask quickly becoming stuffy. “Aww, I’m pretty?”

“Yeah,” he said, showing off his chipped teeth. He had lost one in the back to an enemy gunman. “Very pretty. And mine.”

“Yours? I don’t think I ever agreed to that.”

Oh, but to Konig, you did. It all started the moment you let him in your apartment. No, even before that. The moment he saw you in the halls and developed his tiny crush.

“My Liebling,” he repeated, tightening his grip.

It wasn't a soldier ontop of you. It was simply a man, trying to fight off his demons, acting on a crush, attempting to regain any sense of normalcy in his life.

The mask was dark from the inside, but you didn't complain. Instead, you pulled him back down to murmur in his ear something you had waited to say for too long.

“Tell me when you're sober, then I’ll believe you.”

Konig huffed, but didn't try to argue. You definitely had a point with your argument. He would have to gain the courage, somehow, to see you without getting nervous, or instantly imagining the scene of your body being ravaged by war, the gruesome actions of his past that could come back to you. But, it would be worth it. As long as somebody cared- as you cared, he would endure any hardship.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Konig had slept through bombs, gunfire, practically every shitty condition known to man. Now that he finally had his girl to lay on, there was nothing that could wake him. Not even his own, stupidly loud snoring.

While you were laying, waiting to fall asleep with him, there was one answer you needed to know.

Would he confess to you? Did he truly care about you?

Well, you supposed you would never know unless he showed up tomorrow, sober as a judge, reciting the words he had promised. Which wasn't likely. He'd probably be called back to deployment before he ever got the courage to see you without taking something for anxiety first.

Oh, well. At least he had this moment with you to remember while on the field. That was enough. Konig hoped it would be. He didn't want to inconvenience you more than he already had.

[bakedbeanz]

I call it mind eraser, no chaser at all (On permanent leave of everything) Law abiding, dick riding, fun police, leave us alone (Dulling the edge of a razor blade) What does it mean when the knife and the hand are your own?

[jakface]

of the people for the people!

[rie-092]

FATHER, CAN I DIE?

✶﹒ platonic yandere! manhwa fathers x suicidal/overworked daughter! reader

summary : maybe they should just lock you in your room to make sure that you won't do something dangerous.

a.n : i plan to make this a series, what do you think?

abel heilon

let's start with the most chill platonic yandere! out of the guys that i will feature in this post! abel heilon, the duke of the north with a simple mindset of 'if you mess with me then i'll mess with ya' we all know how protective he is with fiona and siegren. but just imagine, what if— just what if he has an illegitimate child who's related to him by blood that he hid from the public's eyes.

anyways, the first time he met you. he became sure of one thing. damn, you were indeed his child. with that silver hair, blue eyes and personality of yours— you were indeed his child. he can't deny that because you looked like a kid version of him. well, it's not like he is denying it tho— but what the fuck is wrong with your brain anyways?!

he doesn't know if you were abused before he met you. but why in the hell are you so obsessed with suicide anyways?! why the fuck are you even throwing yourself in battles when you were a support mage?! for the fuck sake! stop! yes, you have above average amount of mana! but the hell?! you're not as strong as fiona nor siegren! stop it!

if it's not for siegren then he wouldn't know the fact that you happily greeted the assassin that was sent by the imperial family. according to him, before siegren saved you from the assassin you even have the guts to propose to that damn assassin about committing suicide together since according to you, you have fallen in love with him— hearing that story, abel couldn't help but facepalm. (first name), you're thirteen! and that assassin is already thirty-six or worse, older!

maybe because of the stress of managing the north and keeping you safe from your suicide attempts. abel finally snapped.

look, abel likes watching you enjoying your freedom. but damn, if he doesn't do anything about this— he might end up burying you before you even reach the age of 18. he won't hurt you, he swears. that was the last thing that he will do to you. but that doesn't mean that he can't take preventive measures to make sure that you were safe.

platonic yandere! abel heilon was one of the chillest platonic yandere that existed. he will let you do anything that you want, he won't take away your freedom nor hurt you. he isn't also overbearing to the point that it was suffocating. but don't make him snap, because he can be the most suffocating and controlling parent existed.

now, on your sixteenth birthday— to celebrate it. you decided to jump onto the freezing river near the manor. you expected that you'll wake up inside your room— but no. when you opened your eyes, you were inside an unfamiliar room that has no windows. seeing that you can't use your magic, you were sure that there's a magic restricting device placed around here. what the hell is happening?

the door had opened, you looked at who it was and saw abel looking at you with a smug grin. you tried to ask him what is going on but instead of replying— abel only ruffled your hair saying that it will be only him and you from now on. and that was when you realized one thing— abel had taken your freedom away from you.

but abel didn't care. cry until you have no tears left, he doesn't care. the only thing that he cared about was keeping you alive. and this is the only thing that he know to achieve his goal. but don't worry, he will visit you everyday and give you books to make sure that you won't get bored. so, can you stop being a btch and appreciate his efforts?

he doesn't care if your eyes lost its usual enthusiasm and spark. he doesn't care if you stop eating at some point— because abel can shove the food inside your mouth to make sure that you stay alive.

oh, by the way— fiona was the one who made the room where you were staying now. she just wanted to make sure that you were safe! and the only place where you can be safe is the place where you can't use magic! so, forgive them, will ya?

“should i just cut off your arms? so that you won't be able to use your magic again?”

gallahan lombardy

okay, as far as you know— you are not really a suicidal type of person. but for your father, gallahan lombardy you are. because for gallahan, overworking is another way to try to kill yourself after all.

gallahan is a sweet person, i swear. he won't hurt you at all and isolating you? no, no, no, gallahan won't do that! but he still couldn't help but become paranoid when it came to you. you were way too focused on studying— maybe because of the pressure that you were getting from the other people.

your sleep only lasted for two or four hours, you always isolate yourself inside the library. and gallahan didn't like it at all— look, you need to take it easy and rest. the only time you leave the library was when gallahan and tia drag you outside to eat in a cafe or buy new clothes.

platonic yandere! gallahan loves to spoil you. you wanted to buy books? here you go. want to try home-cooked foods? sure, he'll cook it for you. do you want to go to the festival with tia? alright! as long as he will go with you two.

but then, a certain event made gallahan snap. it was a normal day and gallahan entered the library to drag you outside so that you could socialize with the family. but then, he saw you unconscious on the floor, buried in the books and your nose was bleeding. gallahan was panicking, he didn't know what to do. what if you don't wake up? what if something bad happens to you? or worse— what if you die? if it wasn't for shananet who saw her younger brother's panicked face and her niece's condition. then gallahan won't be able to calm down and call the family doctor.

and what is the doctor's diagnosis? you were overworked. and after hearing that, rulac lombardi, your grandfather along with your auntie and uncles saw how your father's face darkened while looking at you who was peacefully sleeping on the bed.

and then, after that incident. you couldn't help but become confused when gallahan didn't scold you— instead, when you woke up. you saw him smiling softly at you. he didn't even ask you to take it easy. he just lets you do what you want.

but what you found odd was your father started giving you foods and drinks everytime and after consuming those things. you started feeling tired and before you knew it, you always ends up asleep. and once you woken up, you were already on your room. with tia cuddling with you while your father was asleep while sitting on the chair next to your bed also asleep.

knowing how innocent your father was, you never suspect a thing. you just kept on eating and drinking the things that he was giving to you. and you never questioned why you always get tired after it. your father loves you so much, so he wouldn't do anything— right?

plot twist, gallahan actually puts drug on your food and drinks to make sure that you will take a rest and never overwork yourself again. but a year later, you started losing your sense of sight because of it. but gallahan and tia don't care when you have them? oh, just thinking about their sweet (first name) being dependent on them was enough to make them very happy.

“sorry, honey! this is just a precaution, okay?”

[ripleyflair]

[arrowsnsarcasm]

He was going to take her quietness as a good thing.

And she seemed to be helping him now? It wouldn’t last—it never did—but the relief he felt was instant too. He no longer craved the eye rolling high of heroin actively, and he didn’t want to go drinking right now.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Roy told her, still a bit terrified and out of his element, but genuinely empathetic in a way so few people might be. “Taking him out couldn't have been easy for you. I’m sorry you had to do it alone this time.”

The faint dust of red falls to the ground.

"Hello Roy."

“Hello?”

[kkolg]

me and my friends are doing a snapcube style dub of murder drones and this is the result (Pilot)

[keikikait]

ᴛʜᴏʀᴏᴜɢʜꜰᴀʀᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.7k

summary: rafe helps you after your car breaks down

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, smut? (it's just masturbation + some suggestive stuff), rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, rafe gets the reader high on coke (she agrees, but he thinks some weird things), idk anything ab cars but i tried, also i've never done cocaine but i tried to do some research

a note: happy halloween.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You didn't understand what was wrong with your car.

No matter how many times you took it to an auto shop, how much money you spent, it kept breaking down. Your check engine light would come on at the most random times, even after just getting it fixed the day before.  You were spending all of your money on trying to fix your clunker, a 1993 Lexus LS400 that your father was certain was a waste of time. In the long run, it would be cheaper to buy a new car, but you loved it too much to say goodbye. The AC was surprisingly cold, providing much needed relief for the hot North Carolinian summers. It didn't take much to fill it up, and you had beau coups of trunk space. It was your car and that's all that mattered to you.

You had decided to take your car to a different auto shop, across the thoroughfare onto the mainland. You had thought that a fresh pair of eyes would keep you from coming back the week after because your transmission was shot again. The mechanic was able to fix your transmission in no time, sending you off on your way with a hefty bill. It was raining, a summer thunderstorm on the horizon, and you couldn't wait to get home.

You had just passed over the thoroughfare back onto Kildare when your car started to rumble and shake. You feel like screaming as you pull over, banging your palms on the steering wheel. Your car rumbles and shakes, smoke billowing out of the hood. You reach behind your seat and grab your raincoat, putting it on and putting the hood up. You grab your phone and turn on the flashlight, reaching down to pull back the lever to pop the hood. Afterwards, you step out, pulling your hood tight over your head as you lift the hood and prop it up. You look around, waving the smoke away from your face, but you don't even know what you're looking for.

Gravel crunches behind you as another car approaches, casting a shadow over your hood. You freeze, sliding your phone open to the emergency call. You look over your shoulder as someone climbs out. 

Rafe Cameron, Kook prince of Kildare, in his own navy blue raincoat. He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face. “Having car troubles?”

You tense up a little. You knew Rafe, of course you did, but your interactions with him were few and far in between. You were on the sidelines for most of his problems with JJ, John B, and Pope, not wanting to piss off the most powerful man in the Outer Banks. You finally find your voice, fidgeting with the sleeves of your raincoat. “Yeah. I just got it fucking fixed, too.” You sigh.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he looked at you. He had noticed you long before you had even crossed paths, but now, here you were. Standing in the rain, soaked and shivering. He walked over, joining you at your side, and he glanced into your engine, not even pretending to be able to fix it. “You know... this old clunker is gonna cost you more in the long run than if you just got rid of it. Might as well cut your losses while you can, angel.”

Your stomach flips at the nickname, but you ignore it. “It’s my car, Rafe, I can’t just like…abandon her.”

He chuckled, his gaze moving from the hood of your clunker to your face. Your big pretty eyes, your cheeks already beginning to flush from the cold rain. He stepped closer, pushing against the hood so it was angled more, blocking your view of the world around. He leaned against it, crossing his arms, and he stared down at you. “You can, you just don't want to. There's a difference. You like this thing. You're attached.”

You sigh again. “Well duh, Rafe, it’s my only car. I know that concept is hard for you to understand.”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who could help you?” Rafe asks, taking a step back. He glances under the hood again, although he’s just as clueless as you. 

“Help me?” You ask.

He looks over at you again, his expression blank. “I’m a pretty powerful guy, you know. It wouldn’t take much to… oh, I don’t know, maybe find you a newer car. Or,” his lips twitch up into his signature smirk. “Just pay for the repairs.”

“I don’t want to take your money, you know.” You say, crossing your arms.

“Why not?” He asks with a scoff. “It’s just money, angel. I have plenty.”

You sigh. You really don’t want to do this with him. “Look, just…thank you for stopping to check on me. I’m just gonna call a tow truck and wait out the rain.”

He watched as you turned to your phone, a heavy frown settling on his lips. That wasn’t going to do. Rafe suddenly reaches out, grabbing your wrist. “Or—“ he speaks before you’re able to dial, his touch firm but not bruising. “You could just come with me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“But I want to,” he says. “It’s raining, you’re cold and alone, and you’re gonna wait on a tow truck who may not show up for hours. Your little car is about to get flooded. Come on, sweetheart.“

You hesitate, reaching over to put the hood of your car back down. “I don’t know, Rafe. I feel bad, you know? Making you drive me all the way to The Cut.”

“It’s nothing for me.” He says, gently tugging on your wrist to guide you toward his car. He looks at you from the side, his gaze taking in your worried expression, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You’re cute when you’re being stubborn, angel. But it’s unnecessary.”

You sigh. His truck did beat walking. “Fine. Lemme get my stuff.”

Rafe lets go of your wrist, watching you as you dig through your front seat, grabbing everything important. He crosses his arms over his chest, pulling the hood forward as his eyes run over your body, stopping on your ass, head tilting as he admires the way your jeans hug your body. He bites the inside of his lip, wondering what you would look like bent over his lap with two red handprints on your ass, slightly bruised from where his rings would catch the skin. 

Did he feel bad about constantly fucking with your car? A little bit. 

But was he happy that he now had you all to himself? Of course he was.

You were Rafe’s obsession, ever since he first met you a year and a half ago. He, at first, tried so hard to forget you, the little Pogue girl that had the sheer audacity to be friends with his least favourite person in the world, Pope, but as the days passed, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He started out by just thinking about you every so often, occasionally glancing in the direction of The Boneyard when he drove past, hoping he would see you in a bikini. 

Then, he started thinking about you every day, which turned into every night. He would lay on his bed, back against his headboard, and stroke his cock while scrolling through your Instagram feed. Just one look at you would send him close to cumming, and he can’t count how many times he’s cummed in his pants just from seeing you around Kildare. You had a few bikini pics taken from all angles, but his favourite ones were the ones of you smiling at the camera. Rafe has a favourite photo to jerk off to, something that sends him cumming all over his fingers after a few strokes. It’s a photo of you, taken from a high up angle, looking into the camera with your big beautiful eyes, holding a lollipop in your mouth. 

He loves it so much, it’s even his phone’s wallpaper.

Rafe wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to consume you, turn you inside out and fill you with just him. You didn’t need anyone else. You had him, even if you didn’t know it.

You shove your registration and some other important documents from your glove compartment into your bag, shutting and locking the door. You unzip your jacket, sliding the bag between your body and the fabric to try to keep it protected from the rain. You join Rafe back at his truck, climbing into the passenger seat. His car is neat, surprisingly, with only a tube of Aquaphor in one of his cupholders. Hanging from his rearview mirror, along with a car air freshener, is a Polaroid photo of him with his youngest sister Wheezie. There was also photo of you, which was now scurried away in his centre console, buried under a packet of Wet Wipes. He didn’t think you would appreciate that gesture, even though he did, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Rafe takes the bags from you, carefully placing it on the floor of the backseat, his eyes running over you as you settle into the seat. His hands were shaking slightly as the starts the car and puts it in drive. He couldn’t believe this actually worked. He had been following you all day, tracking your phone as he kept his distance in his car. 

You didn’t even notice when he cloned your phone. Rafe had been tracking your every move for months, reading every single text and listening in on every single conversation. He knew it would freak you out if you found out, but he was just trying to protect you! You didn’t realise it, but you needed him. He was protecting you from the scumbags who were trying to date you. You were so sweet, too sweet, and he didn’t want one of those dirty Pogue bastards to take advantage of you. He had planned on making his move with you anyway, but your car breaking down was a gift from the gods. They were placing you right into his calloused hands.

The rain splatters against the windshield with a low tap tap tap, a steady rhythm that keeps the silence from feeling completely unnerving. The air is warm, the heat turned up high, and Rafe looks at you as he buckles his seat belt. “You better thank me.” His smirk is back, a wicked curl at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “Thank you, Rafe.”

He chuckles, glancing away from you briefly as he puts one hand on the wheel. “That wasn’t very convincing, angel…” His gaze returns to you, moving over the slope of your nose, your neck, down to where the rain has made your shirt cling to your chest. His mouth is dry, making it hard to swallow, and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

You look up at him, your head tilted towards him, your eyes big. “Thank you, Rafe.”

His smirk falters, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your big doe eyes staring up at him. He bites the inside of his lip, staring down at you. He can’t believe that you were really right here, that he had you trapped right in his own little cage. There was something about seeing you look so innocent that made him want to ruin you. His breathing starts to come a bit harder, the urge to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe with your wrists tied behind your back making his entire body ache. He clears his throat before putting the car into drive, pulling off of the side of the road, heading back towards Kildare.

You notice his heavy breathing and his tight grip on the steering wheel. Your eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearing his throat. His grip loosens on the steering wheel, clenching his fingers to alleviate the ache. He forces himself to relax his grip, taking a deep breath. After a moment passes, and the silence is heavy on his shoulders, he glances over at you again. “You ever done drugs, angel?”

You rub your lips together. You could be honest with him, right? “Yeah, once.”

His gaze runs over your face as you speak. God, you’re so fucking innocent, it was intoxicating. “Once?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly. “That’s adorable. What drug was it? Pot? I can’t see you doing anything hard core, angel.”

“Yeah, it was weed,” You say. “JJ got his hands on some, and he let me have a few hits.”

He glances over at you again, his fingers clenching as he tries to not show his jealousy. He hated all of your little Pogue friends, JJ included. He didn’t like the idea of you getting high with JJ -- becoming vulnerable. What if JJ took advantage of you? Rafe clears his throat, looking back at the road. “That’s cute, angel. Was that your first and only time?”

“Yeah,” You say, shifting in the seat. “I just… I don’t know if it’s my thing, you know? I had a pretty bad high. I thought I was dying.”

His lips twitched, trying to keep his temper under control. He had just gotten you into his car, he couldn’t scare you away. Of course that fucker JJ had a hand in your bad experience, he probably gave you too much and didn’t take good care of you. He would never do that to you. He would give you the perfect intro into the wonderful world of drugs. “That’s because he gave you too much, angel. A beginner should never go too far their first time. You need to start small, so you don’t have a bad experience. It’s all about moderation.”

You look over at him. “Well, it’s technically my fault. I took too many hits.”

Rafe laughs softly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He glances over at you, his gaze roaming over you slowly, from head to toe, and back to your face. He had already decided that he was going to give you something, just to see you experience it. “What did it feel like? Being high.”

“I liked it,” You say. “I was laughing a lot, until I started feeling like I was dying. I don’t know, the floaty feeling… it was nice, you know?”

He hums, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He could only imagine what you would be like, all loose and relaxed, a giggly high. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you when you were high, how compliant you would be, unable to stop him. His mind starts to wander, thinking about the look in your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, all woozy and out of it. “Would you ever smoke weed again?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say. “Just wouldn’t do it with JJ in the middle of The Boneyard again.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. He glances over at you again, the smirk still playing on his lips. His gaze is dark, his pupils dilated. He was itching for the right opportunity to show you something better, something that could get you addicted, addicted to him. “Would you ever try anything harder?” Rafe pulls to a stop at the red light. Turning left would bring you to the north side of Kildare, where Figure 8 is, while turning right would bring you to the south side, towards The Cut.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Rafe. I would want to do it in a safe space, you know? Not at like a party or anything.”

He hums, turning right when the light turns green. “A safe space, huh?” He glances over at you, biting his lip. His eyes trace your face, how sweet and innocent you looked, and his mind was suddenly made up. He was going to introduce you to the most euphoric feeling of your life, and he was going to take care of you as you felt it. “What about if we did it? Just you and me.”

You shift in the seat again. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, like something is telling you to run. “Do you just… have cocaine lying around?”

The light turns green. The car doesn’t move.

His lips twitch again, and his fingers drum at the wheel. “Yeah, angel, I actually do.” He glances over at you, noticing the way you were shifting. He could see the hesitance in your wide eyes, the look of fear. “You don't have to look so scared, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'm gonna make sure you feel so good. Just trust me.”

You bite your lip, looking out the window. You had heard so much about Rafe from Pope, JJ, and John B about how psychotic, impulsive, and destructive he is, but he was being so gentle with you. You look back at him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He turns his head, making eye contact. He knew you were scared, and it made his cock throb in his jeans. He was telling you the truth, of course, he would take care of you, and he would make sure that you liked it. He wanted you to come back to him for more and more. “You know, you really don't have to be afraid of me, angel. I'm only bad to people who do things to deserve it. I promise I'll treat you good. I will make you feel good, so long as you trust me, and do what I say. Can you do that?”

Your stomach churns. You shouldn’t do this, and you shouldn’t be in Rafe’s truck, but something about him made you want to stay. “Yeah, I can do that.”

His lips curl into a smirk, that same wicked curl as earlier. He was slowly breaking you down, making you do what he wanted, without you even realising it. He wasn't forcing you to do anything, he was just asking. How could you say no to him, when he asked you nicely? “Good girl.”

Rafe takes the left turn.

You let out a shaky breath. You were really doing this.

You look out the window as he drives through Figure 8, taking in the sights of the looming mansions. You glance back over at him as he drives straight past Tanneyhill. “Are you not there anymore?”

Rafe snorts, shaking his head. “Haven't been there in months, not since my dad died.” He glances over at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. “I'm living somewhere else now. A true bachelor.” He slows down as he turns into the driveway of a large white home that looked like one of many others that surrounded it, although, not quite as big. He pulls to a stop, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tucking them into his pockets. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

You grab your bag from the floorboards of the backseat before hopping out, quickly rushing through the downpour to the front door. Rafe easily catches up to you, his stride much longer than yours. He leads the way though, pulling his keys back out of his pocket as he shoves the front door open. He holds it open for you, gesturing with a sweep of his arm for you to head inside. “Welcome to my humble home, angel. Make yourself at home.”

You stand in the entryway, not wanting to drip water all over his real hardwood floors. “Do you have clothes I can borrow? I don’t wanna get your furniture wet.”

Rafe smirks, his gaze running over your soaking wet body, his cock throbbing at the thought of how hard your nipples must be. “I think I have something you can wear, but yeah, you really should get out of those wet clothes.” He pulls the front door shut, locking it behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you to my room.” He grabs your hand, leading you through the empty house.

You follow him through the house, taking in the minimal, neutral decor. It honestly looked like no one lived there, the walls of the house were bare, the couches were all black leather, including the recliner in the corner. There was a large white rug in the middle of a living room, covering the floor. The kitchen was to the left of the front door, although it wasn't as barren, with stainless steel appliances and cabinets. The only personal things in the house were a large flat screen TV in the living room, a framed picture of a young Rafe with baby Sarah on the kitchen counter, and a hallway of closed doors that led to the extra rooms. 

His room is just as bare, although it’s a lot messier, boxers and t-shirts litter the floor and are strewn over an armchair set up in front of his TV and PlayStation. His bedside table is covered with empty plastic water bottles, a crumpled bag of chips, and another framed photo, although this one is of him and Wheezie.

“Cute room.” You say.

“Thanks.” He says, his gaze running over you again, his eyes lingering on your chest, imagining what your nipples look like before returning to your face. He walks over to his dresser, pulling out a green T-shirt and grey sweatpants. He tosses them towards you and you catch them. “You can change in the bathroom down the hall and throw your clothes into the dryer. Just set it to quick dry, okay? Otherwise, it’ll take fucking forever.”

You smile softly, holding the clothes in your arms. “Thanks, Rafe.”

“No problem.” He says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and leaning back. He watches you as you slip down the hall, headed towards the bathroom. Rafe waits a few moments, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He had been waiting to get you alone for so long, to make you his, and now, he was so close.

But he had promised to go slow, and even though it was killing him. He didn't want you to run away.

You peel your clothes off, hanging them over the sink as you change. You dry your hair with a towel before pulling Rafe’s T-shirt over your head. It smells like him; a warm, slightly citrusy smell that makes your head spin. You step into the sweatpants and tie them around your hips. They were a big baggy, but you didn’t mind. You put your clothes into the dryer and set it to quick dry before heading back into Rafe’s bedroom. You spin in a circle, looking at him over your shoulder. “How do I look?”

Rafe had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, trying to resist the urge to go after you. He had changed himself, putting on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. He was almost half hard and as he watches you spin around, the look in your big innocent eyes, he has to dig his fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from jumping on you. He swallows, a dry click echoing in his throat, and he licks his lips, his eyes fixed on you. “You look good.” he murmurs, his gaze travelling over your body and how his T-shirt was loose enough for him to slip a hand under it without any effort. “Are you comfy?”

You nod, fiddling with the hem of the T-shirt as you sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Rafe’s lips tilt into a smile as he watches you fiddle with your hem. You looked so sweet, his pretty little angel, all alone with him, no one to protect you. “You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re in good hands with me, I promise.” He scoots a little closer, looking down at you with his big blue eyes, his lips mere inches from yours. “Do you still want to do it?” God, please say yes.

“Yeah, of course I do,” You say quickly. “Just haven’t done it before, so I’m nervous, you know?”

God, he was going to hell for this. “I know.” He whispers, his gaze roaming over your face, drinking in every beautiful detail. His fingers reach out, gently brushing your jaw. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. I promise.” He glances away for a moment, toward his bedside, toward the bedside table where he had a small bag of coke.

Fuck. This is actually happening.

Your back straightens as you crawl closer to him on the bed, watching as he gets out the bag of coke, along with a small circular mirror.

Rafe looks back at you, his gaze darkening as he sees you come closer, closing the space between you and him. His hand trembles as he opens the bag, using the edge of his credit card to separate the white powder laid out on the mirror. He couldn’t wait to get you addicted to him. He had wanted this for so long, had wanted you for so long, and he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “You gotta promise not to be scared, angel.” He whispers, glancing over at you as he grabs the rolled up bill.

You let out a shaky breath. “Is there, um…do I have to snort it? Or is there, like, another way? I just don’t know if I can snort it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He smirks softly, his gaze travelling over you as you move even closer to him. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at your question. He was going to love this. He straightens out the lines with his credit card. “I can rub it on your gums if you want.”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. That works.”

He grins, glancing over at you as he pushes himself back, getting comfortable against the headboard. “Come here, angel.” He grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer so that you’re sitting before him, between his legs. He glances at your pretty face, his gaze dark and heavy.

You’re scared. He loves it.

Rafe grabs your chin, fingers squishing into your cheeks. “Open your mouth, angel…” You oblige and he grins. “Good girl, good.” Rafe licks his pointer finger before reaching over and swiping through one of the lines. “Alright angel, last chance, do you wanna do this?”

You nod.

“Good girl.” Rafe hums, grabbing your chin as his wet finger moves from the line of coke, rubbing it along your gums. His gaze flits between yours and his hand before pulling away. You looked so fucking good, letting him take advantage of you like this. “Leave it for a moment, okay? You don't have to suck or lick, just leave it in your mouth.” Your gums tingle, the taste slightly bitter.

Rafe watches you close, leaning back once he takes his hand away. He watches you intently, watching the way your expression changes as the drug takes flight.

He was in love.

The cocaine hits you fast, and you start getting squirmy, your pupils wide and blown out. He watches your face as you react to the drug, watching how your eyes flit around and how your breath comes in deep, slightly shaky. He leans forward, grabbing your arms. “Come here, angel, sit in my lap.” You can’t do anything, letting him move you around before settling you into his lap.

His arms slide around your waist, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you against him, like a precious doll. “Does it make you feel good, angel?” He asks, leaning forward, his nose brushing against the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smelled sweet, and you were a perfect fit in his arms, so much so that he almost didn’t want to let you go. Almost.

You nod. You felt so good. Everything was heightened so deliciously, and you melted into Rafe’s arms, letting the scent of his cologne travel through you.

“I’m so glad, angel, I wanted to make you happy.” He whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your jaw, his hands holding onto your hips, keeping you flush against him. He loves the way you move, how your body feels against his, how you were his. He wanted to make you want this again, and again, until you couldn’t think about anything but him, until you couldn’t go without it. Rafe kisses up your neck, hands sliding under the front of his shirt. Your eyes are fluttering and your whole body shakes as your ears start to ring. You squirm, and he grins, moving his head up. He gently bites your earlobe before whispering into your ear. 

“You did well saying yes to me.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my obx taglist here!

[aurumacadicus]

Lol. Lmao even.

--

"So, what does a typical Avengers meals look like?" the interviewer asks, smile wide and mean.

Steve hates these types of questions. Everyone knows he and Thor eat like horses. There are pictures of them with their own table laden with food after really strenuous battles while the rest of the team sit at a different one floating all over the internet. Sometimes Bruce joins them, if he'd been Hulked out for a long time.

It's a question to shame Natasha and Tony. It always is, no matter how sincerely the interviewer smiles or insists it's just to see that they're real people. No one gives Steve side-eye when he talks about eating three bagels smothered in lox and cream cheese, but if Natasha mentions ice cream, there are half a dozen articles about how that ice cream goes straight to her thighs. Tony gets pitying looks for trying to keep up with a literal god and the peak of human perfection as he's told he's looking great--for a man his age.

Clint seemed to fly under the radar. He used to gloat, until Bruce had snapped that it was probably because there was a webpage dedicated to pictures of him crawling out of dumpsters during battle after a particularly vicious interviewer had asked Tony if he worried about getting too fat for his suit, and left Natasha visibly rattled when asked if she was taking steroids to stay in shape. He'd apologized immediately after, but Clint had stopped taking joy in being the disaster Avenger when Natasha and Tony started glancing at watches with smiles growing more plastic by the second.

Steve has half a mind to tell the interviewer they all eat protein-filled gruel designed by SHIELD just to get her attention away from them, but Natasha had scowled at him the last time he'd tried to stage a rescue in front of cameras, and he'd taken it as the warning to back off that it was.

"I've gotten real into smoothies," Tony answers, and he actually sounds enthused. "And Natasha's my willing guinea pig. These heathens," he adds, waving at the rest of them. "Wouldn't know a good flavor profile if their lives depend on it."

"He's figured out a chocolate and almond butter recipe with coconut water that tastes just like an Almond Joy," Natasha adds approvingly.

Steve watches the interviewer's face twist with fake sympathy as she winces and hisses through her teeth, hand clenching into a fist on his thigh. He just has to let this happen, he reminds himself. Then they can go home and he can remind Tony and Natasha that they are probably the healthiest normal people in all of SHIELD. Maybe Tony will make that protein-packed smoothie that tastes just like caramel apple pie for him that is probably supposed to embarrass him but he actually really likes.

"Ooh," the interviewer says with another wince. "But aren't smoothies just full of sugar? Wouldn't it be better to eat whole fruit?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow. She opens her mouth, but closes it again when she notices that Tony is openly gawking at the woman like she's personally reached over and slapped him. She leans back in her seat, brows furrowing together as she clearly tries to puzzle out why he looks so shocked.

Tony blinks, once, hard, before he says, "I used to do cocaine, Christine. I think a little sugar from fruit juice is fine."

There's a brief pause as the words sink in, and then Clint spews the water he'd been nervously gulping, and Bruce starts howling with laughter, and it pretty effectively ends the interview there, because no one has heard Bruce laugh that hard outside of the tower and Natasha looks seconds away from guffawing as well.

[a-solitary-sea-rover-backup]

The popularity of space whale art can be traced to the 1960s and 1970s. A few different cultural currents from that period coalesced into the ‘space whale’ motif. In brief, they are environmentalism, public awareness of scientific advances in understanding cetacean intelligence and behaviour, psychedelic drug culture, and space exploration.

[skyrim-forever]

THE FUCKING DWEMER???

[notelizapancakes]

'she acts' charity gala continued 💀