#while I'm at it I also want to claw out my eyes and out something sharp and damaging in my ears

[theclosetcreature]

Chapter 2 - A Strange Day

You wake up to a drop of water landing on your face. Opening your eyes, you see it came from a stalactite. "Wah... Why am I..." The memories of last night flood into your mind and you quickly sit up. You scan your surroundings to confirm if you dreamed the whole thing or not. You are in the same place you fell asleep in, the only thing missing is Mr. Puzzles. Did he leave or did you make him up? As you ponder this your thoughts are interrupted by a delicious smell. Your stomach growls, you did not eat anything yesterday and you are starting to feel the side effects of that.

Following the smell, you make your way to the room with the campfire and see some pork chops being cooked on it. But more importantly you see Mr. Puzzles who is cooking said pork chops. He happily waves at you and motions to you to come sit down. You do just that, now closer to the food your mouth begins to water.

Once the pork chops are done cooking Puzzles hands them all to you. "Aren't you also hungry?" You ask him forgetting for a moment that there is likely no possible way for him to eat, considering he has a TV for a head.

He shakes his head and says something on the lines of "I'm fine." You still do not fully understand what he is saying but it reminds you of an idea you had yesterday. "So I was wondering... Would you like to come over to my house? I have a book and quill you could use so that you don't have to struggle talking to me."

He nods while trying (but failing) to hide his excitement. "Alrighty then, the rain should hopefully be gone so we should start making are way there-" Wait where is Brian.

"Hey Puzzles, do you know where Brian went?" Mr. Puzzles eyes widen as he realizes he completely forget about your sheep. Oh no oh no oh no, you can not loose him again. What if you can not find him this time or what if you do find him but he is-

Puzzles says your name which causes you to look up at him. He has his claw stretched out to you. Looks like he wants you to take it. You don't know why but you trust him so you take his hand. His claw is cold to the touch. Once you take his hand you realized you are no longer in the cave.

You are now on top of a very tall tree. "WHAT THE-" You were so surprised by this that you stumbled backwards and almost fell off the tree, thankfully Puzzles was there.

Catching you quickly before you fall, he puts one claw on your back and the other one grabs your wrist. You both stayed like that for a few seconds before he quickly places you back on the tree and turns away from you. You could have sworn you saw a purple line appear across his screen before he turned away. Your face feels hot for some reason but let's not think about that right now.

"So uh, why did you bring me here?" You ask him. He turns back to you and points down to the ground. You take a look and see little hoof prints. Your so happy you can not even talk, you just make a happy squeak and hug Mr. Puzzles. He is incredibly cold but you do not mind since your body has always ran pretty warm. It takes a few seconds but Puzzles does return the hug, a bit awkwardly though.

Realizing what you did you quickly let go and stop the hug. "Sorry I suddenly hugged you, I was just uh- Thank you for your help." You smile at him and he smiles back. He says "your welcome." You think.

"Well we should probably get off of this tree and follow those prints." You tell him. Puzzles holds out his hand, which you take again and- POOF! Your both back on the ground. This time you don't fall but your stomach feels a bit queasy. You wave it off and the both of you take off after Brian.

It started as you both running together but it quickly turned into a race. Puzzles was a whole lot faster do to him having longer legs than you. You tried to at least keep up with him but he soon disappeared behind all the trees. You kept following the prints until you saw Mr. Puzzles again, he looked confused.

As you got closer you saw why, the prints just... Ended. No Brian in sight. Did something kill? No you do not think so. The ground is still wet from the rain last night so there would have been tracks from another animal. So why did they stop here. Your suddenly hit with a wave of dread. You want to leave, you do not feel safe anymore. Something is wrong.

"Hey, Puzzles can we leave. I don't want to be here anymore..." You did not notice this but you were gripping the sides of your shirt. But Puzzles noticed.

Mr. Puzzles led the way through the forest, he knew it a lot better than you did. He was pretty close to you while you walked together, as if silently telling you he was going to be protecting you from any dangers that may appear. It made you feel a bit better. But you were still feeling uneasy so you asked him a question. "Would it be ok if I could hold your claw until we get out of here?"

He looks down at you and nods his head. You take his claw, your hand feels small compared to his. Now feeling slightly safer, you both continue walking until you see the edge of the woods. Finally, you thought you would be in there forever. Walking out of the woods and taking a look around you see your house in the distance. You have never felt this happy to see your house before. Still holding Mr. Puzzles claw you start sprinting towards your house.

Puzzles is not ready for that and almost falls when you start sprinting but he recovers quickly. Now the both of you are sprinting towards your house but the closer you get to it the stronger your feeling of unease gets. Something happened while you were gone. You can feel it.

You are now standing in front of the door to your house. You don't want to open it. You know if you open it you will see something you won't like. Your hand is now on the door knob. Your shaking. Something cold touches your shoulder causing you to jump.

Puzzles quickly pulls his hand away and apologizes. You tell him. "Oh, it's ok. I was just lost in thought. I'll open the door now." Mustering up enough courage to open the door. You turn the door knob and brace for the worst. You feel a chill run down your spine as you look through that doorway.

(HAHAHA you want to know what happens next? Well too bad cuz I'm on my villain arc 😈 but actually I just want to say that reading the replies I got on my first chapter made me so happy :] I'm so glad people are enjoying this.)

[panarchie]

wanting to tear out my own throat so I never have to speak to another human being ever again type vibes in the club tonight

[ariaste]

listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled

Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage

come on this journey with me.

ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.

the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something

this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"

all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE

Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis

all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You tend to Alastor's wounds after the fight with Adam. The weight of almost losing him nearly breaks you.

☒ Warnings: gn!reader, hurt / comfort, implied established relationship, descriptions of injuries and stitching them up, mentions of anxiety, the reader cries a bit, comforting!alastor, and also soft!alastor, one kiss, non-sexual undressing, soft touches

☒ Word Count: 1,010

All you could think of the moment the battle ended was Alastor.

The last you saw of him, he was going head-to-head with Adam. But witnessing Nifty stab the lowly man made you worry something terrible happened to Alastor.

The moment you had a second to breathe, you rushed toward the Radio Demon's tower. A trail of blood leading toward his sanctuary sent a wave of fear down your spine. Your steps quickened at the sight, and all the worst-case scenarios flooded your mind. 

When you swung the door open, the view of Alastor blanketed your body with a cold sweat in the weight of a moment. He was doubled over the control panel, ears pinned flat to his head as the crackle in his voice echoed through the space with each breath he took. 

"Alastor!" You cried out, rushing over to his side in an instant. The sound of you calling his name caused his head to whip around. You wasted no time assessing his injuries, scanning your anxious gaze over his frame. 

"Worry not, my dear," Alastor coughed, blood spilling down the corner of his mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern as you began raiding his radio tower, frantic to uncover a first aid kit. "Of course, I'm going to worry- you're bleeding all over the place!" You exclaimed, letting out a breath of relief as you found the emergency medical kit. 

Hastily, you began pushing Alastor's torn overcoat past his shoulders. The injured man simply gazed down at you, a weary smile decorating his visage. "Darling, I can handle this myself," Alastor clamored through gritted teeth, stopping your hands with his own before you could start unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

You shot your head up to meet his gaze, frustration evident on your face. "No, you can't! You need to let others help you when you need it! Stop trying to handle all these battles on your own. Please, Al," Your voice softened toward the end of your sentence. You didn't want to shout at him while he was wounded so badly, but Alastor's stubbornness got under your skin. Especially now. 

Alastor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a shaky breath before releasing his grasp around your hands. "Alright, my darling... I won't stand in your way any further," His voice was barely above a whisper as he presented you with an apologetic look. You offered him a weak smile in return before undoing the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. Peeling it off his frame with great gentleness. 

Your eyes widened in fear as you finally saw just how gnarly the gash across his torso really was. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you began threading the needle you uncovered in the first aid kit. "Tell me if it hurts too much, and we'll take a break." You expressed softly, eyes meeting his crimson ones. Alastor only nodded at you as he gritted his teeth harsher than before, bracing for impact. 

Alastor's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, leaving deep claw marks in his wake. You tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible, but there was only so much you could do. "I'm almost done, my love. You're doing so well," Alastor endured the grueling treatment, letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding as you finished patching him up. 

You generously applied ointment before wrapping gauze all the way around his frame. Alastor let out a hiss as the bandage came in contact with his gash. "I know, my love... just hold on a little longer for me," You snuggly secured the gauze before bringing your hands down. You grasped his hands. Clutching his large palms comfortingly as you beamed up at him. 

"There, now you're as good as new." You quipped, massaging the pads of your thumbs into the back of his palms. Alastor grinned wearily, his crimson eyes holding much adoration for you. "Thank you, my darling... I reckon I should apologize for being so uncompromising before," A slight chuckle escaped his lips as Alastor squeezed your hands right back.

You let a laugh of your own fill the room as you leaned in closer. "Ah, don't be... I'm just glad you're okay," Before you could catch up, your head came flush against his shoulder. The adrenaline finally wore off, leaving your body shaky and weak. Alastor didn't miss a beat. He gripped your hips to stabilize you instantly. "My dear, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, radio static crackling out ever so slightly.  

Tears began brimming in your eyes before you could stop them, and a lump formed in your throat. One that you couldn't seem to swallow down. "Sorry, I just..." A hiccup shook your body as your hands came up to his chest, being careful not to graze his injury. "If you would have died... I couldn't bear it!" 

Alastor felt his heart ache at your sorrowful cries. Your solemn words only added fuel to the fire. One of his hands unhurriedly came up to the back of your head, cradling your neck as Alastor cooed at you. "Oh, my dear," He allowed you to sob into his shoulder for as long as you needed, only releasing his grasp around your head when he heard your cries fizzle out. 

You slowly pushed yourself back against Alastor's chest, sniffling softly as you looked up at him. Before you could process it, Alastor captured your lips with his. Pouring all of his love into the chaste kiss. Your heart fluttered as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips. Your worries seemed to melt away from his embrace. Alastor was your everything, and the fact that you nearly lost him today scared the fuck out of you. 

Alastor pulled back unhurriedly, still keeping his face close to yours. He nuzzled his nose against your own before he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, my darling. You're stuck with me for all of eternity. I expect you haven't forgotten that already!"

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Thinking about how Wade got his powers from Logan and, now that they're roomies, that Wade might let it slip out one day.

---

They're arguing in the kitchen over something stupid. Logan is slowly getting more aggressive with chopping the onions while Wade is up on the counter top, kicking his feet while waiting for whatever is in the oven to be ready.

"You know you should really get less mad at me, peanut. If you're nice to me, you're nice to yourself!"

"I'm not Catholic, so don't try to guilt me like one, and don't you dare play any bullshit pranks on me today or I'll give you two additional assholes."

"Well, that's more holes to stuff me with, so I don't see a problem with that." And before Logan can go claws out and make good on his promise, Wade uses one of his many signature moves: the 'Talk Real Fast and Confuse Them Before They Can Hurt You' special.

"WHOA THERE THINK OF THE BABY!" He screams while grabbing a ladle to jam between the claws and up against Logan's knuckles, keeping him a distance away. "I got a little bit of you inside me! Also, Jesus, we're not making pasta tonight, so I don't want any blood over the food. I won't be able to pass it off as red sauce to Al."

"She's blind."

"But she can taste color."

He groans, and instead of responding to the latter joke, he focuses back on the first. "What's this horseshit about a baby?" He sighs as the timer goes off, and he sheathes his claws to put oven mits on and take the veggies out of the oven.

"I'm just saying some doctors injected me with your DNA!! Not unlike good ol' artifical insemination -- except into my blood stream! Sooooooo, instead of a baby, I got healing factor. Ergo," he said as he booped Logan's nose on a the last word, "if you're nice to me, you're nice to you."

And what Wade thinks is funny banter, quickly turns into a sobering conversation as Logan puts the tray on the counter, not saying a word. Before hissing out -- "...What?"

You can see behind his eyes so many gears turning in his head, and he's not looking at Wade in disgust, confusion, or pity. He's looking at him in guilt, which is not what Wade wanted or expected.

---

So yeah it's all teehee chuckle fucks until Logan kinda has a melt down about learning that the freaks who experimented on him used his DNA to hurt others too. That's the hurt, and the comfort is Wade just thanking Logan over and over again that he saved his life. He's physically alive because of him, and he feels alive because of him and the stupid domestic life they've made together.

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections

Charles Xavier x Erik Lensherr x Reader

the gender of the reader is not specified // based on X-Men Days Of Future Past, but the scenarios are made up

Summary: You are blind, and you control the earth (you also listen to the plants) you are like a mutant version of Toph Beifong basically. Also you and Charles bullying at Erik for not noticing the obvious.

maybe part 2 in the future? let me know if there are any mistakes because English is not my first language.

Charles "I'm not good with violence" Xavier

"‘Can I know where we are going?’ Charles asks, irritated by the mystery Logan is adding to the situation.

‘You'll see,’ the man replies with a half-amused smile.

In the future, you were a legend, a myth. The original X-Men never stopped talking about you when Logan arrived at the mansion, and over time, their respect for you and your amazing deeds only grew. Something Logan struggled to learn about you was that you had a romantic relationship with both Charles and Erik. He didn’t understand it until Ororo explained that it was a polyamorous relationship, which helped him understand much more about the Professor and his nemesis.

In the horrible future from which they sent him, Erik and Charles ordered him to force a reunion between the two of them and your first meeting with them.

Part of him found the situation amusing, feeling like Cupid but with bone claws instead of a bow and arrows. Another part of him hoped that this forced encounter wouldn’t jeopardize the relationship destined to be in the future.

Once they arrived at what was supposed to be your home, Peter was the first to get out of the car, followed by Hank, Charles, and Logan.

They were in a place slightly secluded from the city, full of forests, dirt, plants, and flowers. There was only one house in sight, well-maintained and decorated on the outside; Charles gave you credit for that.

They walked up the short driveway, and Logan didn’t even need to knock for the door to open by itself. Logan smiled amusedly while the other three men glanced at each other in confusion.

‘Excuse me,’ Logan murmured, entering the house, closely followed by the others.

The house was cozy and minimalist, with the few pieces of furniture placed against the walls, giving the appearance of more space than there actually was. They entered what seemed to be the kitchen, where there you were.

You had your back to them as you did something on the kitchen counter. Judging by the sound, you were preparing coffee.

‘Coffee or tea?’ you asked disinterestedly, creating another round of confused glances.

‘Coffee,’ Peter answered with a smile. Logan sat down at the table on the side of the kitchen, which had three chairs.

‘I suppose the furry guy and the one who's supposed to have paralyzed legs are more into tea,’ you commented as you set the water to boil. You pointed to the fridge next to you. ‘There's beer in the fridge.’

Logan raised his eyebrows at the two completely confused men in the kitchen doorway as he went for the said beer, while Peter took a seat.

Hank and Charles didn’t understand anything. Were you a telepath? Hank was in his human form, and Charles was full of the serum to be able to walk, so… how?

Logan returned to his seat, and that’s when you finally turned around, leaving them all (except for Wolverine) surprised.

Although you usually wore sunglasses, you had taken them off when your plants alerted you that someone from the future was coming to see you. Your eyes were white, lost.

You put your hands in your pockets and leaned your back against the counter. ‘I suppose they want you to help them get Magneto out of the Pentagon.’

‘She’s good,’ Peter murmured in amusement.

‘Are you a telepath?’ Charles finally asked, crossing his arms.

‘No,’ you smiled at him.

‘Then?’ Hank asked this time, while Logan just watched the interaction like it was a soap opera, sipping his beer.

‘I control anything to do with the earth, I understand plants, and I see through the roots of trees, although I can also sense all your movements through the ground we’re standing on,’ you explained, serving the tea and coffee.

You heard Peter whisper ‘cool’ as you handed out the cups.

‘Your plants told you,’ the professor concluded, taking a sip of tea, which happened to be his favorite flavor. You nodded.

‘People have told me you have good reflexes; is that true?’ Wolverine’s question made you smile slyly.

‘Of course it is.’

‘Then catch this,’ he challenged, tossing the empty beer bottle at you.

Hank and Charles looked horrified as he threw the bottle, while Peter was ready to intervene if necessary.

Through your bare feet, you could feel how almost everyone’s heart skipped a beat, but you caught the bottle in mid-air as if it was nothing. The collective sigh of relief that followed made you laugh.

‘So, are we going or what?’

-------------------------------------------------------

After successfully getting Magneto out of prison, you had to sit with Charles and Erik on the plane, according to Logan’s poor excuse, ‘So they don’t kill each other.’

After a tense conversation between the two, during which you just sat in silence, Erik spoke up.

‘Why are you barefoot?’

‘So I can see you'

Erik frowned in confusion, while Charles barely suppressed an amused smile. Erik still hadn’t realized that you were blind, since you were wearing sunglasses, and you hadn’t given any indication that you were. Of course, Erik found it odd that you were always looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone, but he assumed you might be shy.

‘Am I missing an inside joke?’ Erik asked again, noticing his old friend’s poorly concealed smile.

‘No, nothing, don’t think too much about it,’ Charles replied, trying to hold back a laugh but failing, causing you to smile in amusement.

Magneto frowned in confusion, feeling like he was missing something, and he had to admit it made him a bit jealous. He finally reunites with Charles, the man he loves, and Charles has inside jokes with someone he’s never seen before and, as far as he knows, only met today.

‘Explain to me, what’s so funny?’ he asked, hiding his growing irritation, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the two of you, who were still stifling your laughter. Erik couldn’t help but notice that you were still looking straight ahead. ‘Is it something related to her mutation? I thought Y/N only controlled the earth and talked to plants?

‘You can do a lot with the earth, isn’t that right, Charles?’ you replied with amusement. The man in the wheelchair, who miraculously walks, rested his head on his hand, trying to hide his smile as he nodded. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said.

Erik felt his irritation growing, along with his heart racing at the melodic sound of your shared, complicit laughter.

The gears in Magneto’s mind started to turn as he realized.

You were wearing sunglasses that you hadn’t taken off, even on the plane, always looking straight ahead, not having looked at either him or Charles this whole time, and you said you were barefoot so you could see him.

‘You’re blind,’ he concluded, rubbing his forehead in a mix of irritation and embarrassment, earning loud laughs from both of you that attracted curious and annoyed looks from Hank and Logan.

‘Took you long enough,’ you said, patting him on the shoulder in consolation.

‘Something I don’t understand is, how do you “see” through your feet now if we’re on a plane?’ Charles asked once his laughter had calmed down.

‘The earth has metal particles, and metal has earth particles, I suppose,’ you answered.

‘Does that mean you can control metal?’ Erik now asked with curiosity.

‘Sometimes, although it’s not easy at all, it requires a lot of effort,’ you replied, shrugging.

‘Interesting,’ they said in unison, glancing at each other and smiling as if they were thinking the same thing.

‘I sense tension… are you two going to kiss?’ you joked.

The two men rolled their eyes and smiled at each other, definitely thinking the same thing, while you felt confused because they didn’t give you any response."

Pt.2

[cheeseceli]

When you have plushies

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reactions

Request: so if skz had a partner who sleeps / collects plushies??? maybe also add a little where the reader is a tad bit embarrassed of it?

Warnings: none

A/n: if you saw this when I posted it for the first time no you didn't!

Bang Chan

Y'KNOW THAT LAUGH OF HIS

The one that's so adorable and it looks like a giggle while his eyes are like crescent moons

THAT ONE

It's the one he gives you while he tries to understand that somehow he is dating the most adorable human being in the whole world

He literally has no problem if you want to sleep with them, will reassure you when it comes to that

"Do you think I can take one of your plushies with me for the tour? It'd make me feel closer to you"

Lee Know

Of course he will tease you

That's like one of the things that are included in his boyfriend package: relentless teasing

He will stop immediately if he sees that you aren't feeling it though

Will take a picture of you cuddling your favourite teddy bear and set it as his phone's wallpaper

AND will buy you some plushies and put them in his dorm

So you can feel more comfortable even when you're away from your own collection

Will never admit but he cuddles with it when he misses you

"Dori was sleeping with the plushie I bought for you. I'm going to send you a pic"

Changbin

Now that he knows, there is nothing stopping him from buying you thousands of plushies

Your collection will double in less than a month if you let him (please let him)

Might even buy some matching ones so you guys can share something in common

But he'll feel a little betrayed if you don't cuddle him to sleep and instead hug the teddy bear

"Why are you cuddling a plushie when you have me right here?? Like, c'mon now!!"

Hyunjin

You know those things where you can make a teddy bear from scratch and then gift it to someone?

He would do that for you😭

Would probably gift you a personalised plushie in your first valentine's

But overall he finds it adorable

Laughs endearingly every time he sees you sleeping while cuddling one

But will not lose the opportunity to replace the plushie and hug you throughout the night

"Would you rather have a dog or a bear as a plushie? No specific reason"

Han

Wants to give names to some of them lmao

And finds you 200% cuter because of it

Like, he knew you were adorable but you always surpass his expectations somehow

And if you get embarrassed abou it he finds you even cuter

But will make sure you don't have a reason to be embarrassed

He will throw himself in the pile of plushies, feeling like he's in heaven and making sure you knows he likes this side of you as well

"This one looks just like you! Oh my God, it's literally you"

Felix

HE LOVES IT

And he would be so casual about it as well??

Like, you'd be kinda scared of his reaction but then he's just the kindest about this

Wants to know about their names and stories you might have about them

The kind of guy who'd stitch one of them if they need to get repaired (I love him btw)

Tries to win plushies for you in those claw machines

"Which one do you want? I'll win it for you"

Seungmin

Is kinda intimidated at first lmao

Like I can see him just standing still while an army of plushies stare at his soul 😭

After the initial shock though I think he'd find it cute

Especially if there is a plushie who kinda looks like him/his skzoo

If that's the case he'll just tease you (while finding it so endearing)

"You should name this one 'Minnie'"

"I'm not naming every single one of my plushies after you"

"Why not?"

I.N

I think he wouldn't react at first, but mostly because he doesn't know what to do

Will you get sad if he teases you? Will you get embarrassed if he says it's cute?

He ends up not saying anything lol

Acts like he sees a huge collection of plushies every day

Might give you some plushies as gifts after finding out

"I just bought a very cute teddy bear in Japan. I'm giving it to you once I come back home."

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[celaenaeiln]

JL: Nightwing! It’s a delight to see you! You should come by more often.

Nightwing: Thank you! I’m so sorry, work has been piling up on me but I’ll try to drop by the office party this Sunday.

JL: Ofcourse! Looking forward to seeing you there. By the way, is Batman coming late?

Nightwing: No, I’ll be filling in for him today.

JL: Did something happen?

Nightwing: Nothing much, he’s just grounded.

JL: ???

48 hours earlier

Dick: Bruce, I’m telling you now and we’ve had this conversation before but you need to build a better rapport with your children. They look up to you as a father figure and your actions influence their behavior.

Bruce: …hmrgh

Dick: And you might not be aware but you unconconscious behavior is damaging. Tim has picked up your terrible habit of constantly working in front of a screen-it’s going to strain his eyes. He’s always inside too, so you need to make him go outside more. I’m not always here, I have an entire city to run, the titans need me, I'm mentoring hundreds of heroes, the Justice League calls on me to help them, and I need to keep up with my social life. The people in Bludhaven where I teach and work also call me if I’m gone for a day-the point is-I can’t always be playing second parent here in Gotham.

Bruce: ……hmrgh

Dick: Damian always looks up to you

Bruce: *side eyes*

Dick: He does! See you don’t even realize it! He wants to make you proud and Jason gets mad when you don’t make time for him because he cares too. Stephanie doesn’t have a dad she can turn to and it would mean the world to her if you took her out to an amusement park or something. When was the last time you spent time with her.

Bruce: ….hmrgh

Dick: And-

1 hour later

Dick: -that’s why you need to stop working, go to them right now, and bond with them.

Bruce:

Dick:

Bruce: ……...hmrgh

Dick: I’m waiting.

Bruce: *dragging himself off the batcave chair and begrudgingly trudging upstairs under Dick’s watchful eye*

Bruce: *listening to the sounds of his kids in the living room and pumping himself up* Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. And Dick. Do it for him.

Bruce: *entering* *clearing his throat* Children. We will be going-

*The living room is in utter chaos. The cushions are strewn and ripped with stuffing coating the couches and floor which for some reason is stained yellow, the flower vase is shattered and so is the table it was sitting on, there’s string confetti on the chandelier, there’s spray paint and neon goo across the walls and in Tim’s hair, Jason has deep claw marks down his face as he wrestles with Damian who’s sporting massive bruise on his cheek and trying his hardest to bite him, Stephanie is dunking Tim’s face in a tub of soda which splashed everywhere while he’s ripping out Jason’s hair and also trying to kick Damian with his foot, the tv has massive spiderwebs and looping on tellatubies like a broken record machine, Titus is spitting out a feather while a random goose runs around honking while Alfred the cat chases after it at full speed, knocking down decades old paintings.*

Bruce:

Bruce:

Bruce:

Bruce: *rolling up his sleeves and stomping forward to join the fight* HMRGH.

[blitzyn]

pervert

miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader

request : none

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse goes to shit, and you find yourself bound in Miguel's webs.

a/n -> literally nobody asked for this but he's been stuck in my mind for decades and i wanted to get something out for my bbg <3 also super sorry i disappeared again, writers block straight up bitch slapped me and left me in a ditch, plus ive been losing interest in writing for genshin or just the game in general, unfortunately.

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> very dubcon, mean dom miguel, degradation, bondage?, face fucking, google translated spanish, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, slight and brief choking, (semi) public sex??, not beta read

Exhilaration filled your veins as breathy laughs escaped your throat, weaving through buildings and rubble with the precision of someone who has experienced this type of chase countless times before.

And that's because you have. You've been in a near never-ending game of cat and mouse with the esteemed Miguel O'Hara, always close enough to feel the swipe of his talons in the air but too far to catch. No matter how many times he's cornered you, you always find a way to get past him; it was predictable at this point.

That pissed Miguel off like no other, hellbent on capturing you to put an end to your snide remarks, to put you in your place. While that usually would've enticed you in any other circumstance, you weren't too keen on letting him dig his claws into you now that you were chest-deep in this predicament — and his wrath.

"Stop running, already!" he shouted, the sharp edges of fury evident in his voice.

"I'm not running!" you respond, peering back at him with a smug grin. True to your words, you, quite literally, were not running. You were swinging with the agility of a seasoned acrobat, twisting and flipping through debris while looking like you were having fun. You offered him occasional glances and nearly laughed each time. Seeing him, a grown-ass man, almost constantly on all fours was amusing, but hearing him curse and grunt and growl made electricity shoot down your spine in a way that nearly got you caught several times.

Adrenaline filled your body and threatened to burst through your chest each time you evaded him. "Missed me!" you laughed, juking away from his swipe.

"So close!" you flip over him with a taunt. "Try again next time!"

"¡Voy a matarte!¹" He growls, and it was hard to ignore the shudder that rushed through your body. You slightly winced at the feeling. If you don't get your shit together when he spoke Spanish, then you were asking to get caught.

But it's not like you'd mind — Actually, yes, you fucking would!

You click your teeth in annoyance. Despite how hard you tried, you couldn't remove Miguel from your thoughts even though he was right behind you, hunting you down like a wild animal. Your mind strayed toward his broad shoulders, beautifully tiny waist, fat ass (that you'd give a lot to slap), and the massive piece of rubble being hurled at your body.

You blink out of your stupor, feeling your senses going off rather violently. Oh shit.

Everything seemed to move painfully slow as you stared at the debris with wide eyes, noticing Miguel's red web attached to it as he brought it down. You flung your arm out in an attempt to attach your webs to something and swing away, but was unable to pull yourself fast enough as the debris pinned you down to the roof of a building.

"Fuck!" you thought as you grunted and squeezed your eyes shut, agony tearing through your entire body. Swiftly, you pushed against the ground to shove the heavy object off of you, groaning with effort. Just as you managed to stand back up, you heard the familiar thwip! of his web wrapping around your waist and arms to yank you to him.

"Caught you," he said, voice rough and breathless as he panted hard. He loomed over you menacingly, hands curled into a fist.

You struggled, kicking and straining against your binds. "Come on, Miguel." You offer a tense grin. "We both know this won't last very long."

"Ay dios míos,²" he growled, dropping to a knee to roughly press a hand on your face, his fingers digging into your cheekbones. "¡Cállate!³"

...

Woah.

You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling your cock stir in your pants. Oh fuck.

It was hard to ignore your ever growing attraction (and hard-on) for him that seemed to intensify when he deactivated the hologram of his mask. Sweat beaded at his temple while his eyes narrowed at your bound figure, fangs peeking out from behind his lips as he caught his breath.

Even when you were the target of his anger, he was still breathtakingly hot.

You opened your mouth again to shout at him — probably to let you go or something along those lines — but Miguel wasn't having it.

"Why is it so much to ask for you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once?" he hissed, squeezing your cheeks tight enough to ache, but it only went straight to your dick. "Is that all you can do? Run your mouth until someone gets sick of your shit and shuts it for you? Huh?"

You whimpered, meekly shaking your head in denial. Tightly closing your eyes, you swallowed hard and squirmed, secretly trying to will away your hard cock straining against your clothes.

"You're so annoying! Stop moving," he demanded, reflexively looking down to adjust his position over you. His eyes raked over your body for a moment before zeroing in on your erection, pausing in surprise.

.

..

...

"Oh, you pervert."

Your eyelids snapped open at his words, mortification seeping deep in your chest as you shifted your head away from him in shame. Despite everything, you could only feel yourself getting harder under his intense gaze.

"Is that why you made me chase after you?" He forced you to look at him again, your face aching at his manhandling. "Because you wanted to fulfill some dirty fantasy of yours?"

He let out a dry laugh. "You couldn't find anyone willing to satisfy that depraved urge, so you turned to me. Just how desperate are you?"

You shook your head again, letting out muffled words. He mercifully removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to speak, sliding lower to rest on your throat. "I was just playing..."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head mockingly, momentarily adjusting himself to grope your painfully stiff dick. "And this was your master plan? To get off at the face of danger? You're more of a degenerate than I thought."

"N-No, I didn't—" you moaned, reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand.

"Stop lying." He squeezed the hand around your throat just enough to force labored gasps from you. "It's stupid how you don't think I've seen the way you look at me — how you think I haven't noticed you eyefucking me."

A furious blush rises on your cheeks as your cock twitches in his hold. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He laughed again, staring at you in mock disbelief. "You're enjoying this."

And this time, you don't deny it.

"Can't say I expected anything higher from you." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and removed his hands from your throat and dick to place them on your thighs. Effortlessly, he pried them apart to slot himself in between your legs, pressing his crotch flush against your ass.

Groaning, you lifted your hips a bit in an attempt to grind on him. With a growl, he swiftly slapped a hand on your abdomen to push you back on the ground.

"Don't move," he said, glaring at you with a mix of arousal and irritation in his eyes. "I've had enough of you getting your way." He leaned forward, a wince crossing your face when he pressed some of his weight onto your stomach. "It's my turn."

"My way—?" You cut yourself off with a huff when he gave you a stern look.

A thought seemed to pique his interest when he suddenly decided to kneel beside your head. It was nigh impossible to tear your eyes away from his crotch, the area beginning to glitch with a dim, pale blue glow at the strain from his hardening cock.

"Let's put your mouth to better use." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and deactivated the hologram covering his dick. It landed on your face with a quiet slap before his hand guided it to your lips.

You hesitantly parted them, only for them to be forced open wider to make room for his cock. You let out a surprised sound at the entry, but he was entirely focused on making you take him completely.

He was gracious enough to take it slow, relishing in the sounds of your gags and sputters and every deep inhale.

"Thaaat's it," he drawled out, sighing heavily when he felt your tongue rub against the underside of the shaft. "Fuck..."

Your eyelashes fluttered as he buried your nose into his pubic hair, uncontrollably drooling over him while you sucked and licked what you could. You felt him harden in your mouth, forcing himself deeper into your throat while it tightened and spasmed.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, absentmindedly shuffling closer to your face. A shiver ran down your spine when he slithered a hand on the junction between the back of your head and neck to hold you firmly.

A garbled whine left your throat as you subconsciously jerked your hips upwards, searching for some form of relief for your aching cock. You strained against the webs around your torso and arms, utterly intoxicated with his taste, his scent, his sounds—with him.

With a groan, he shoved himself as far as he could inside your throat and held you in place, ignoring how you instinctively struggled against him. A high-pitched ring sounded through your ears as your head spun, chest tightening with the need for oxygen.

Shuddering, he finally pulled out of you, watching with satisfaction as you coughed and gasped for air. A mix of saliva and precum connected your lips and the tip of his cock, to which you quickly licked away. You let him inspect you with a hand still buried in your hair, gaze locked in on your drool slicked chin and swollen lips.

A quiet hmph left him before he turned to place himself back in-between your thighs again, this time extending his talons to tear a path in your clothes from your ass to your crotch.

"H-Hey! Hold on—" you protested and kicked his arm away from you.

"Shut up," he cut you off, swatting your foot away while grasping your painfully hard cock again. "Don't act like you don't want this."

"G-God..." you moaned, furrowing your brows as you stared at him. A squeak left your throat when he suddenly pressed your legs to your chest, a quiet ptuh! escaping his lips alongside a glob of saliva that landed on your asshole.

Retracting his talons, he let go of one of your legs to press two fingers against your hole, shoving them inside you abruptly. You winced at the sting his thick fingers made as it mixed in with the arousal that burned in your gut. He separated them in a scissoring motion, moving in and out at a pace that had you yearning for more. His fingertips brushed against spots so frustratingly close to your prostate, you were sure he was purposefully avoiding it to mess with you.

"H-Hurry up," you demanded, the ache in your balls beginning to prove to be something you could hardly handle.

He gave you a sharp look. "Tell me to hurry up again and I'm leaving you like this."

You stared at each other for a moment longer before you looked away in defeat, muttering under your breath. He ignored you and added another finger, the wet squelching blending in with your soft moans. His hard cock pressed on your thigh, and you briefly wondered how he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life already.

Quickly enough, you were able to realize that he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to give you a hard time — just like you did to him.

"C-C'mon, Miguel." You breathlessly chuckled, straining against the webs around your torso.

"What?" He raised a brow, satisfaction seeping into his expression at your growing desperation.

You opened your mouth again when he unexpectedly jabbed his fingertips onto your prostate, sending a violent surge of electricity through your body. "Fuck!" You cried out as a spurt of precum leaked out of your dick and enlarged the wet spot on your clothes. He continued targeting the gland, refusing to let you get a word in your sentence. The coil in your abdomen tightened into an almost unbearable degree before he abruptly removed his hand from you entirely.

"God, just fuck me already!" You jerked your hips upwards in a futile search for stimulation.

"You sound just like a whore," he commented, tone full of condescension. A heat washed over your body at his words as you stared at him with wide eyes. You tensed when he leaned down, lust and mirth swirling within his red irises. "Is that all you are?"

"What?" You found yourself unable to look away from him. "N-No, I—"

He shoved his cock inside you mid-sentence, tearing a loud moan from your throat. He held your thighs to fold you in half, using his body weight to pin you down. You panted hard as you tilted your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to focus on anything else but his dick filling you up so perfectly.

Miguel released a gutteral groan, grinding his hips against you. He dug his fingertips into your legs hard enough to bruise, but that was the least of his worries — not when he had you below him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned back (mercifully removing some of the pressure on your chest) and watched himself move in and out of you, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed himself back inside.

"Ohh, fuck!"

"This is what gets you — mierda⁴ — all compliant, huh?" He taunted, abdomen flexing with every thrust. "The moment you get some dick inside you, you're like a trained mutt."

You opened your eyes to weakly glare at him, to deny what he said, but the moans spilling from your lips did nothing but prove him right.

"Te gusta cuando te trato como si no fueras nada, ¿no?⁵" He leaned back down, hooking his arms around the back of your knees as he pressed his chest against yours, curling his wrists around your thighs to grip the flesh. His breath was hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, lips so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice in your ear drum. "Aren't I right, you dirty little pervert?"

"N-No! S'not right!" You cried out, the burn of his cock stretching you out mixing in with the pleasure so deliciously it was almost addicting.

"Deja de mentirte y admítelo, puta,⁶" he hissed, widening his mouth to graze a fang along your neck threateningly, which sent a shiver down your spine. "Admit it — that you're a depraved whore."

"Admit it." He emphasized each syllable with a thrust, ramming into you hard enough to fuck the breath out of your lungs.

"Shit—fuck! Oh, god!" You sobbed, arching your back into him. You nearly came at the feeling of his abdomen rubbing your aching dick. "I'm a whore! M'your whore!"

His cock throbbed fervently at your words, rewarding you with groans and grunts directly into your ear. Your ass slightly stung at the force of his thrusts as he fucked his anger into you, but neither of you cared.

"Fuuuck!" You drawled out. "Miguel, m'so close! Let — ngh, ah — Let me cum!"

"Yeah?" He cooed in your ear, gently licking the shell. "You gonna cum f'me?"

"Yes, yes—!"

"Then beg."

He stopped moving so unexpectedly that it left you disoriented for a few moments as you stupidly stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"Beg to cum," he leaned away from you to get a clearer look at your face. "I'm not repeating myself."

You took a moment to catch your breath (and secretly savor the feeling of his dick twitching inside you). "God, please, Miguel! I need it so bad. I need to cum — please let me cum! I'll be good, I promise! Fuck, Miguel, please let me cum! Please, please, please!"

The sight of the tears along your lash lines sent electricity down his spine as his breath hitched. "You'll be good?" He dryly laughed. "I don't think I believe you."

You opened your mouth in defense when he suddenly slammed himself back inside you, tearing a moan instead of words from your throat. He fucked you hard and fast and deep, grunting in a way you could only describe as animalistic.

But you loved it. You loved how he controlled your body so effortlessly, how he treated you like a cheap fuck toy. You mentally deemed all those chases worth it in the end.

The heat from less than a minute or two prior returned full force as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You babbled out incoherent words of (what Miguel suspected to be) praise, straining against your binds once again.

You screamed out when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, electricity shooting down your spine as your cock spurt cum underneath your clothes. You weren't able to process the stain in the fabric when you realized that he hadn't slowed down, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm to chase his own.

You stared up at him, admiring the slight flush on his cheeks, how his brows furrowed in concentration, and even his eyes that shone with disdain towards you.

You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, and you quickly realized that he was about to cum as well. The ecstasy you were granted slowly began to merge with the pain of overstimulation, but it only made the hazy bliss you were in so much better.

"Yes, yes, Miguel!" You gasped out as your legs trembled in his hold. "Cum inside me, please, I want it!"

He grunted at your words, fucking you with a few more harsh thrusts before he suddenly pulled out. It took you a moment longer than normal for you to process the uncomfortable emptiness as he let go of one of your legs to quickly jerk himself off.

"What—No! Please, Miguel!" You pleaded uselessly, wincing when he tightened his grip on your thigh and unintentionally extended his talons. They penetrated through your clothes and pierced your skin, drawing a bit of blood, but that was neither of your concern at the moment.

"Ay, solo cállate ya,⁷" he growled, releasing your thigh to press his palm against your mouth to silence you. You let out pathetic whines and whimpers, but Miguel was focused on achieving his orgasm.

With a final few strokes, he finally came with a loud groan as his cum spurt onto the floor. He angled his hips to make sure none of it landed on you, much to your obvious dismay. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and stared at your bound body, trembling and helpless. It was satisfying to see you in such a state.

He reactivated the hologram over his softening cock before binding your legs together in a way that hid the large hole in your pants to prevent anyone from figuring out what the two of you did.

He sighed heavily and slung you over his shoulder, standing up to look around and figure out where the fuck he was.

"You have a really nice ass," you commented after a moment, unable to keep your compliments to yourself.

He groaned. It was gonna be a long trip back to HQ.

Translations:

1: "I'm going to kill you!"

2: "Oh my god."

3: "Shut up!"

4: "Shit..."

5: "You like it when I treat you like you're nothing, don't you?"

6: "Stop lying to yourself and admit it."

7: "Oh, just shut up already."

cross-posted on ao3

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

God ever since reading A Gilded Cage I cant get the thought out of my head of a part 2 where Reader doesn't see Jason for a few days after the revelation. Like maybe he thinks he's being kind and giving us some time to process, maybe he's on his angst again, or maybe some outside factor has taken his attention so the only time he's able to visit is while we're asleep.

And the whole night of the reveal feels like a fever dream when we wake up but there's a blanket draped over us and a fuzzy little kitten purring up a storm on our chest (in my heart his name is Bean (short for Toebean)), so we're at least kind of sure it happened. But as the time passes with no sign of Jason our certainty begins to wane and until we finally get fed up and write on the notepad the first thing we've asked for since that night: "You."

Or something like that idek okay I've been over here clawing at my walls frothing at the mouth I never really even liked ak!Jason before reading your stuff and now I'm feral for him and its all your fault and I'm not even mad about it

A Glimmering Collar

AKA Part Two of this series. Ahh, nonnie, you literally cooked with this. I love when my fics inspire people enough to keep thinking on them! Seriously, ty for dropping these ideas in my inbox cause I had nothing going on in my brain for a part two initially. Hope you enjoy!

~2.6k words

You wake up to something tickling your nose. Your body feels heavy, your mind even more so. Nothing in you is ready to open your eyes, to face the fact that last night could all have been a dream. That he isn't– that was just a dream.

Something soft flicks your nose again, and you force your eyes open. You blink hard once. Then twice. It's a kitten. It's tiny, and it's sitting by your face. Every few seconds, its tail sways and brushes your nose.

Oh. You sit up slowly, trying not to frighten the small thing. It looks at you contently over its shoulder and meows. The kitten stretches as you stare at it, then plops itself directly on the blanket resting over your lap.

Huh. There's a blanket you definitely don't remember grabbing sprawled over your legs. You carefully reach down to pet the kitten's head. Your heart melts a little when it nuzzles your fingers and purrs.

You look around the room slowly. Nothing else looks different. The notepad is still in place, but the kitten and blanket all point to one thing. Last night was real. Jason is alive. Jason is the Arkham Knight.

You're trying to wrap your brain around that when the door flies open, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Good morning!!" A flurry of voice call from the doorway. Your eyes widen as three brightly dressed people strut their way into your apartment, "Are you ready for your shopping trip, hun?"

"My– excuse me?" You stumble out, tucking the kitten to your chest as you stand.

They giggle, and one of them steps forward, "Your shopping trip, sweetie! And spa day, of course. Oh, ha, we haven't even been introduced, have we? I'm Krystal with a K, she's Destini with an i and he's Robbi also with an i."

Robbi huffs and walks up to you to pet your kitten, "Why can't you ever introduce Destini second? She can be Destini also with an i, ya know."

The other girl walks up to you as well and picks affectionately at your clothes, "Because it's alphabetical that way, Robbi. Now you better go get dressed, we have brunch reservations and mimosa plans!"

"I– sorry? What?" You ask, eyes darting between the three of them. Whatever this is, you can't keep up. You've barely processed Jason kidnapped you, and now you're supposed to go get a massage and drinks?

"The boss wants you to go out," a flat voice cuts in. You're the only one that stiffens at the sight of two large men stepping through the door.

Krystal speaks up, "We're here to make sure you have a good time! And Mack and John are here to keep us safe!"

"Mack and John," You echo weakly.

"Your body guards, silly," Destini chirps, ushering you to your room. She plucks the kitten from your hands, "Now get dressed! Wear something nice!"

You stare at the door as she shuts it. What just happened? You hear them chattering happily in the kitchen, idly talking about pregaming your shopping trip.

Your whole mind is a mess, and you sluggishly get ready, thoughts whirling. You've barely talked to soul since you were kidnapped, and now you have five new names to remember, a kitten, and a day out.

You're not exactly sure if you should be unsettled or grateful at how quickly Jason worked to get you what you asked for. By the time you've opened your bedroom door, Krystal, Destini and Robbi are passing around a flask, and playfully trying to get your 'bodyguards' to drink it.

You wonder what they must think of all this. Who they think you are. You're struck with the realization that Jason must be paying them to entertain you today.

You don't get to linger on the thought before Robbi hooked his arm with yours, dragging you towards the door, "Let's gooo, the brunch place we're going to does the best pineapple mimosas. Or cherry, if that's your thing."

"Wait," Mack– or John, you're not exactly sure which one is which– stops you, "Boss wants you to wear this."

The girls and Robbi coo in awe when Mack opens a box, revealing a glittery, jaw-dropping choker. You waver at the sight of it. It's not that it doesn't match what you're wearing. You'd dressed up like Destini suggested, but it feels like some kind of trap.

You reluctantly pick up the necklace, eyeing how it catches the light, "Is it– are sure it's safe to wear this out?" Safety isn't really what you're concerned about at the moment.

You're more worried about the crushing weight that this means more than you understand.

John nods once, "There won't be any problems."

Krystal happily plucks the necklace from your fingers, and before you have time to argue, she drapes the necklace around your throat. "It's beautiful, hun. Just like you. Let's go get you something to eat," her voice is soft, measured, and full of so much understanding it makes you want to cry.

You don't know much they know, but when she hooks her arm with yours to guide you out the door, you have a feeling there's more awareness than their bubbly attitudes let on.

The day ends up being wonderful. Being around people, out under the sun (the sun Gotham does get), was rejuvenating. You had fun, joked, smiled, and for a day, it was almost like you didn't have a prison cell to go back to.

The food was delicious, the spa relaxing, and you didn't have to carry back a single bag. Krystal had flashed a black card at every payment, every place ever could want to shop at, reassuring you it's all been taken care of.

But the time you've collapsed on the couch, exhausted but content, the uneasy feelings from this morning are gone.

You settle on the cushions to wait for Jason. To thank him for listening or to yell at him for still keeping you here, you're not exactly sure yet.

But he doesn't come, you fall asleep in your expensive necklace and pretty clothes with one hand petting your kitten. He doesn't come the next day either, at least not while you're awake, but Krystal, Destini, and Robbi do.

Your friends, the people being paid to entertain you are nice, perfect even. They're exactly what you would have asked for.

Your kitten is perfect too, it cuddles with you at night and nuzzles under your chin after you're left alone, when the unease finds its way back to you.

It's been days since you've seen him. It's starting to feel like a lifetime. You know he comes back after you fall asleep, he moves things. You think it's his way of showing that he listened, that he came back because you asked.

The notepad, the one you haven't written on since that night, shifts closer to you on the glass table if you sleep on the couch.

The glimmering choker gets pulled out of the drawer every time you try to put it away. Your kitten has a growing collection of toys and things to climb on.

It's obvious he's visiting, so why won't he let you see him? Day five of dancing around each other breaks you. You want to see him, want to talk to him, and understand. You want Jason.

Your hand shakes a little, when you go to write on the notepad, and when you wake up the next morning, the paper is blank again.

You wait. You wait some more. All day you wait for him. No one else comes. It's strangely quiet, with just you and your kitten. You've just about given up, collapsed in your bed, when the glowing whites of his helmet catch your attention.

You sit up quickly and throw your legs off the bed as you stare into the doorway, "You came."

"Did you mean it," he asks, any emotion he's feeling hidden by the aggravating modulator.

"Mean what," You question, standing off the bed to walk closer to him, "Will you take the mask off?"

He doesn't move for a moment, just takes in the sight of you. The silence that drags almost makes you regret the question, but he carefully pulls off his helmet, "What you wrote. That you wanted me."

"I– yeah, Jason. I haven't– it's been days since I saw you," You only notice mid sentence that his hand is reaching for your face, it makes your voice waver. "You never answered any of my questions," You finish weakly.

His hand stills and he drops it, "Questions. That's what you wanted?"

You nod a little, searching his face for any hint of what he's feeling, but he gives nothing away.

He sighs softly, and looks away, adjusting his helmet under his arm. You think he might look disappointed, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for."

"Why not," You question softly, worried to push him away.

Jason turns his focus back to you, "I just need you to stay here. Please," he sighs out your name, and his hand twitches as if to touch you, "Don't fight me on this."

"That's not fair," You mumble, "Why am I here, Jason? You know I would have listened if you came to talk to me instead of– this."

Silence falls again, and he steps past you into your room. He sets his helmet on your dresser and picks up the choker resting on the wooden surface, "I wish you would wear this. I picked it out for you."

"Jason," You start, tracking his movements.

"I know," he cuts you off, "but I told you, you don't need to understand anything." You stiffen when he steps back towards you and guides you to turn around.

The air leaves your lungs as his gloves brush over your skin. He sets the necklace around your throat, and even after it rests heavy against your skin, his touch lingers.

"You just need to stay here. It's safe. I've given you everything you've asked for, and everything you haven't," Jason says softly, stepping out from behind you. His gaze lingers on your neck for a moment, and the stifling, unexplainable feeling sets back into your gut.

Your words stick in your throat. There's a sense of danger, one that doesn't make sense. Jason wouldn't hurt you. Not the Jason you know. But is this the Jason you know? The thought makes you want to tear the choker from your skin and throw it at him.

"It feels like a collar," You say quietly, and your breath hitches when his gaze snaps go yours, "I mean, it's pretty. Really. But, it feels– like it's more," You stumble out.

He nods slowly, and he doesn't stop himself from touching you this time. His fingers trace the choker, linger over your collarbones, brush along your pulse, "Maybe it is."

You blink at him, every thought flying from your brain, "What?"

He hums softly, hooking a finger under the shiny jewels to draw you closer, "Does that scare you? Knowing that you can't leave? Knowing that no matter how pretty these are, it's just another way to keep you?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," you say instead, it sounds like you believe it, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

"I don't want to," He admits, fingers leaving your throat to trail up your jaw, "but I probably could."

"I don't believe that. I remember–" He tuts, tapping your cheek. Your heart drops when you realize he's mirroring where his own brand is.

"I'm not what you remember," he says firmly, before whispering your name, "I'm not that Jason. Not really."

"Then who are you," You ask, even though you don't want to know the answer. You want to pretend he's still something you know.

His eyes dart over your face, then back down to the necklace, "I'm still Jason. But I'm also the Arkham Knight."

"What does that mean," You push, reach up to grab his wrist, demanding his attention, demanding real answers.

"It means that you stay. It means that I give you what you want. Everything and anything except leaving," he says, voice lowering to something kinder, gentler, "it'll make sense eventually. You'll be happy here. Safe."

"Will that make you happy?" You ask, fingers tightening on his wrist. Half of you wants to pull him away, stop him from tracing patterns over your cheek, but the other part of you wants to press his hand closer.

Something flicks in his eyes at your words, "Yes."

"Will it keep you safe?" You murmur, eyes locked on his.

He doesn't answer, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment, "Safety is an option I don't have."

"It could be, if you wanted it," You say, dropping his wrist. It must be true. Even with all the secrets he's keeping, his evasive disappearing act, he could take off the armor. Leave behind the new symbol engraved over his chest.

He laughs a little and swipes his thumb under your eye, "I'm glad that you don't understand. It's good, that they didn't twist you into something unrecognizable."

"Understand?" You prompt, unsettled by his laughter.

"That they need to pay. All of them do," he smiles a little, it's a mockery of the one you remember. Jason traces the choker one last time before stepping back.

"You're leaving," You say, not a question, a statement of fact. He's leaving, without explaining anything again.

"I am," he affirms, moving to grab his helmet.

"I want you to stay," You breathe out and he freezes in place.

He exhales softly and faces you again, "You don't know what you're asking."

"I do. I want you to stay," You repeat, reaching out to push his helmet back towards the dresser.

"And then what?" He asks lowly, a warning, "What do you expect to happen?"

It makes you waver, "I– I don't know. But it's what I want."

It's another long moment of nothing before he answers, gesturing towards the bed, "Go to sleep."

"You'll stay?"

He nods at your question, unceremoniously dragging the chair from your desk to your bedside.

"Is that going to be comfortable–" You begin, settling yourself in the bed.

"You're overthinking it," he mumbles, waving at you to lay down. You do, watching as your kitten jumps into his lap, curling up like this is something that happens all the time. (You have the feeling it is) "Have you named him," he asks quietly.

"The kitten? Mm, no. Wanted you to," You say softly, carefully not to unsettle either of them.

"I wouldn't be good at it," Jason protests, eyes flicking between you and the kitten.

"I don't mind," You murmur, "anything's better than 'kitten'."

He pauses, so quiet and still you think he won't answer, "Bean," he mumbles, reluctant as the newly appointed Bean cuddles into his armor.

You smile, "Bean's a good name."

He doesn't answer, seemingly engrossed with watching the kitten.

You take him in for another moment, memorizing his face before closing your eyes. It's not an accident that you leave your palm open and face up by the side of the bed.

There's no more pleasantries exchanged, no sweet goodnights or the gentle touches against your face you've grown used to. But just as you finally start to drift off, as darkness finally draws you to rest, a warm, rough hand weaves itself into yours and squeezes.

Part Three

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Unveil

Words: 9k+ Summary: Here comes another party organized by Rose, meaning you cannot have your parents near people who threaten your peace. You can't even go to the bathroom, for goodness sake! Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of secret relationships and hiding things from friends and family (and finally, their consequences). SMUT (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Very quick, literally a quickie, because I am so rusty at smut now. It will include some rough manhandling and clawing at the skin, but nothing too bad). Insults. Slut shaming. A/N.: I'm back!! Please know that I want to keep writing, I really do. But my professors absolutely hate me, because I have so much to do. This is like no other semester. Hope you enjoy this!

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

With your hands constantly smoothing down your silk dress, you can’t take your eyes off your reflection. You have touched up your make-up maybe three times since you’ve ‘finished’ getting ready and adjusted the more than adjusted dress for the, hopefully, last time.

You have no idea what it is. You feel weird. You feel nervous. Or maybe just anxious. There is something about going to a party with your parents after everything that has happened that makes you want to crawl into bed and only come out when everything has already happened.

Another sole reason your blood pressure has been sky high lately has to do with the conversation you’ve had with your mother in the car about planning something with ‘the girls’. For the last few days, she always remembered it at the worst moments. You have always found a good enough reason for her to not reach out to Kristy or her mother for said plans, but you’re not so sure that today will be possible to do it, given that they will see each other in person. Your mom and her mom have always been friendly to each other and have always liked each other’s company. They will surely plan something like an evening altogether. That is, of course, if her mother hasn’t heard anything about you yet. She too has never been too enthusiastic with Cameron & Co.

A knock on your bedroom door makes you look over your shoulder, and your father walks in. He gives you a sweet smile once he sees you by the mirror and holds his hand in your direction.

“Got to go. Mom is getting impatient.” He says while you take his hand.

You grab your purse on your way out of the bedroom, reaching for it at the last second as you can already hear your mother pacing around the house. You check the time before reaching her, making sure you are not the reason why she is like that, but, as expected, the scheduled time isn't for another 20 minutes. Therefore, you will get there before everyone else.

Your mother is still pacing when you reach her. She has a cream-colored dress, make-up, and hair done with way too much precision, but the look on her face would be enough to make you run to a mirror again.

“Finally!” she says, waving her arms in the air with a sigh.

Her eyes make sure to look you up and down, and her lack of criticism almost makes you cheer out loud. You know you won’t get a compliment with her bubbling with so much stress, so the fact that she has nothing bad to say about you is enough to let out a breath.

After your mother does her last walk around the house to make sure everything is in her purse and everything is locked, you all start to walk out to get into the car. You reach for your phone when you take your seat at the back of the car, and your father begins to back out of the driveway. The car is in complete silence, just as it usually is.

Now that you are officially done with classes, the graduation ceremony is just days away. Meaning, that not only will you soon be far, far away from certain people without school forcing you to be in their presence, but you also have been bombarded with texts from Patty and Topper, who have shared with you all sorts of ideas for the parties that they will be attending. All those texts are in the weird group chat that you have been added to, but Rafe, much to his confusion, was not.

You smile down at some of the messages and make sure to not leave them on read for too long before answering them quickly. These moments of calmness and smiles don't last too long, given that you get a message from Kristy, making you put down your phone to hopefully not let it mess up with your mood again. But, yet again, you were too late.

The trip to the location of the party is a little over 15 minutes, and you try not to pay any mind to any anxious thoughts after that. Because, maybe, just maybe, there is nothing to worry about. Nothing to be scared of, and no reason to want to lock your parents in a room for the entirety of the night.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. You got this under control.

After some time, and a little traffic, the car finally comes to a stop. Your dad helps you out of the car, and as soon as you all stand outside, you can tell that you were some of the firsts to get there. There are almost no cars in the parking lot, and that would be with counting the workers’ cars too.

Before you can even walk all the way to the front door of the building, Rose has already pushed the door open and smiled to greet you. Rose and your mother exchange the classic two kisses on their cheeks – or better, the air close to their cheeks. A handshake with your father. Yet when she reaches you, she pulls you into a hug. Your mother didn’t seem to be able to look away.

“I am so happy that you could make it,” Rose says to you when you two pull away from the hug. “Seriously, it was so hard making all these teenagers want to go to an event with their families.” She turns to your mother to include her in the conversation with a quick roll of her eyes, but she simply smiles dryly at her. “Anything that just doesn’t include alcohol makes everyone want to stay home, these days.”

“Oh,” your mom exclaims, surprised. “Yes, that is true. Youth, these days. But I do not believe that it would be my little girl’s” and, while still talking, she puts her arm around you in a side hug that is so out of character that it feels nearly comical, “style to do anything like that. These types of events are so much better.”

You offer her a small smile in return, and Rose doesn’t seem to notice how tense everything just seemed to get.

The two women begin a conversation in front of you not too long after. They talk about how good you did in your finals and even how Wheezie was so good in hers. All due to your hard work, of course. They talked and talked, and your mother’s arm did, eventually, come down back to her side. You walk over to stand by your dad as they continue their discussion, all while everyone still stands by the door.

“Is your whole family here, already?” Your mother asks her, making your ears perk up.

“Except for Ward, yes. He had to leave to get something at home. But the kids are all here. Well, except for Rafe, of course,” she chuckles dryly, “He’ll get here in his own time.” Rose says with a shrug before turning back to you and offering you a smile, “And I do believe some of your friends from school have gotten here as well.”

Great.

You fake a smile of excitement, and Rose takes that as her ticket to take you all inside the building. The warm breeze from outside is quickly substituted by the cold AC as soon as you get in, and, only after a few hallways, do you step into the massive room of tonight’s event. One with a tall ceiling and a wall made of windows, all of them facing the sea not too far from the building’s garden in the back. One of the windows is open and some people stand outside, some of them smoking, while others just enjoy the view while talking.

Even so, the room is quite empty. The ones inside stand on the sides and corners of the room, but, due to its size, the room feels empty still.

Your eyes scan the room, looking at each person carefully, trying to see how much damage could be made in the first few minutes already.

A little polite conversation later, Rose steps away with a soft ‘talk to you later’. Having looked around enough, relief washes over you when you notice that the friends that she had mentioned had only been one of the girls and some somewhat known faces from school. Nothing like Kristy, or the rest of the group. You know they won't do a thing when alone, that is, of course, if they aren't Kristy.

Your parents walk over to the table with the drinks, and you follow them, only listening to their conversations to keep you entertained.

The room is indeed fabulously decorated. The walls are decorated with amazing and grand pieces of art. Certainly replicas of sorts, expensive looking, nonetheless. Rose, as she tends to do, filled the room with all sorts of flowers and large tables with white tablecloths and glass dishware. At some tables, there are all sorts of mocktails, juices, and fancy herbal and fruitful waters. Other tables have food with all sorts of snacks, which the younger family members seem to have no shame in already having their fill.

You can see the people out in the garden from the drinks table. You can see Wheezie out with her friends, as well as Sarah being annoyed by Topper, who is beginning to be pulled away by one of her friends. They all are dressed formally. Wheezie in soft pink and Sarah in yellow. You look over to check on Rose which is in a light purple. What kind of color would they make Rafe wear?

You smile down at your own thoughts and hide it by looking around, purposefully ignoring a stare from a family that you do not want to interact with – the only girl and her parents, who might as well just call you a devil from where they stand in the room, given the distaste in their faces.

By the time an hour passes, you notice how slowly time goes by. You sure are in for a night.

(…)

It has been three hours, and you've finally decided that you need to walk away from your parents. You have shaken so many hands of coworkers and possible business partners of both your parents, that your mind has begun to blur their faces into one ever since you’ve met the seventh person. Their conversations have been about business and sales, and you swear that if you hear any sort of vocabulary from their field again, you will begin to rip your hair out in chunks.

So, a walk it is.

Your heels click on the tiled floors as you look for a bathroom. No one is in the hallways, most people just stay in the main room or the outside, where younger socialization is seemingly kept. None which you’ll be able to make today, for the looks of it.

You have thought about talking to someone other than your parents, but the possibility of it upsetting them, given your new crowd, always made you take a step back. There aren’t many people you could speak to. Rafe’s friends, who have naturally become yours too, have all gotten here in the last hour. Most who noticed gave you a simple wave, which you could only nod to because you knew you couldn’t be caught waving at Topper Thorthon by your own mother. You might as well just walk right back into the room nude, and you’ll get the same reaction - in other words, complete horror. Patty, on the other hand, had walked over to you to greet you as she normally would, with a hug, and that sparked the curiosity of your mother a bit too much. That is, of course, because she has no idea who she is.

Other sorts of company, also known as your past best friends, have also gotten here, and each time you notice them walking in the room, you would simply spark a conversation with your parents so they wouldn’t look at the newcomer. But you know it, you’re running out of things to talk about. Especially since some of the girls haven’t gone outside and are still standing by their parents, talking amongst themselves. One is easy to hide from your parents, but a group, not so much. The idea of them already talking to them is making chills run down your spine.

Truly, the only thing keeping you sane is the fact that Kristy hasn't arrived. Therefore, there is nothing that can truly hurt you while she isn't here... right?

You walk through the hallways, letting out a sigh, still looking for a more distant bathroom that doesn’t have a line of women you could possibly very well know at the door.

After looking at many lines, you decide to try upstairs instead, because, realistically, you will need at least five minutes of silence in that room to get back into the right mentality to handle the rest of the night, and you will not be able to do that with a group of women ready to break down a door and run in to pee.

You begin to walk towards the front of the building, where you spot even more people who have begun to arrive at the party and are following Rose as she continues to be her pleasant self to her guests. You spot the two big staircases at the front, and you grab onto the railing before beginning to go up.

Suddenly, a whistle echoes down the hallways and up your staircase and you freeze.

“The party is down here, miss.” The voice says.

If only you hadn’t recognized it, you would’ve actually listened to the observation and made your way down the staircase, hiding your embarrassment and complete horror of being caught. But the fact that you did recognize it only made you want to throw a shoe at your boyfriend for scaring you the way he did.

“What am I, a dog, for you to be whistling at?” You say while turning around to face him, while he stands by the front door, meters away from you and down a few steps.

Rafe tilts his head up at you, and you know the comment is eating at him. You're teasing him. You smile as you see him peek into the hallway Rose disappeared into, and you can’t help but let out a shriek when he starts running up the steps to grab you.

Rose must already be on her way back to the door to welcome the new family coming inside, and you have her stepson ready to tackle you to the ground, so you have double the motivation to grab onto your dress and the railing and try to get away from your man.

You laugh your way up the stairs, but you don’t even get to the last step before he’s able to grab onto you. Now, do you think it was a fair fight? With you in heels and a long dress? Absolutely not, and you make sure to let him know that as he casually puts you over his shoulder and gets you both off the stairs - all while basically making you think you’re going to die for being upside down on the last step. You have screamed twice since he's gotten here. Rose would kill you if she knew.

“Please put me down.” You say, defeated and seriously out of breath from both running and laughing.

You know that Rose must have heard the both of you, you just hope she doesn’t know it is you who was just laughing hysterically. You’re sure she heard the damned loud whistle and rolled her eyes to the back of her head in response, knowing very well whose it was – the only son that is almost 4 hours late to a party his own family is organizing. And now that same man is kidnapping a girl into the upper floor, how nice. You wouldn't blame her if she stopped inviting him. Not at all.

Halfway through a hallway and during your millionth plea, Rafe finally puts you down, making your hair fall in all sorts of directions over your face, getting a genuine laugh out of him. Your hands begin to try and smooth down the strands back into their original place, but Rafe continues to smile down at you.

“Don’t you look beautiful today, baby?” He says in a dramatic tone, making your hands stop working through your mess of hair and giving him a glare, which in his eyes seems more like a pout.

Taking pity on you, Rafe helps you with your hair to the best of his ability, and you begin to look around for a bathroom.

Leaving Rafe behind and knowing fully well that he will follow you without hesitation, you walk over to a door that, thankfully, is unlocked, and the room is empty. Rafe walks in with you, and you only let out a breath when you hear close the door behind him.

Rafe watches you through the reflection as you fix your hair further and then check on your makeup. It takes quite a few moments of silence before you turn and lean back on the counter. With your back to the mirror, and the temperature of the cold stone going through the fabric of your dress, Rafe steps in front of you, and the warmth of his hands on your hips adds a nice contrast.

You look up at him, analyzing his face, but you notice how he leans in for a kiss, making you turn your head at the last second, forcing him to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth instead.

“I have lipstick on.” You whisper at him, “Don’t you dare ruin it.”

“I would never.” He whispers back but kisses your cheek again instead and then continues to go down your jaw, neck, and then shoulder.

You fight the urge to close your eyes to the feeling of his lips and look at him while he moves, you haven’t taken a good look at him yet. He looks good, like he always does, in a dark blue suit with no tie and a pristine white dress shirt underneath, his hand has his usual gold ring, and his buzzcut looks just made.

“We’re matching.” You tell him, a smile more than evident in your voice, making him raise his head up to look at you. “Why blue?”

“Ask Sarah, she was the one that chose my suit.” He says, creating a slightly bigger distance between your faces.

You lay your hands over his shoulders, but they eventually find their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs caress his skin, and he continues to stare down at your face.

“You look really handsome tonight.” You whisper to him again.

“I do?” He asks, and you nod, making him lean into you again, threatening to ruin your lipstick yet again.

“And incredibly needy too.”

Even Rafe couldn’t hold in his chuckle at your observation.

“Someone ignored my texts for-”

“We texted this morning, Rafe!” You say a little louder this time, with a smile that almost made Rafe’s heart jump out of his chest. “Since when did you become such a sappy boyfriend?”

Rafe did not even have to say a single word, the expression on his face of complete repulse for your choice of adjective is enough to make you smile widely at him. He sends you a glare as a response which only makes you laugh harder. Your hands come down to his shoulders again, and you give him a kiss on his cheek before leaning away from the counter.

“I have to go back down soon.” You tell him.

Rafe leans in closer to you, his hands forcing your body glued to his, making you lose all idea of cold from before. You are warm all over. “Why?”

“My parents are here, can’t have them talk to a certain someone just yet.”

Rafe doesn’t answer out loud, he just continues to look through your face, deep in thought. You watch him as he does it, memorizing every inch of his skin in return. Rafe had noticed your mood while watching you walk the hallway downstairs. You are deep in thought and visibly buzzing with anxiety. Knowing now that the root of all your problems is just a floor down from yours, makes a lot more sense than whatever he had thought of.

“They’re here?” You only nod, kissing his jaw and pulling back to look him in the eyes, “Have they said anything?”

“Not a single thing, only stared for a while.” Rafe pulls you impossibly closer to him, and you let him. “They might already be doing it right now.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I was driving myself insane. Had to talk to way too many people, and I can’t even remember a single name.” Rafe grins at your words, but you sigh before continuing, “I want to go home already.”

“But the party just started.”

You roll your eyes at him and his audacity, and he smiles down at you. Your lips crack a small grin too, and you feel one of his warm hands move from your back to your hip, squeezing it through the thin fabric and holding onto you tightly. Your entire body sizzles at his touch, and you lean closer, completely forgetting your own promise to not smudge your lipstick.

“We shouldn’t.” You whisper against his mouth.

“We really shouldn’t,” Rafe emphasizes with a shake of his head and a big smile, but that is just before he closes the gap between the two of you. Your lips touch, and your hands smooth over to his head, smoothing over his short hair.

Rafe lifts you up to the counter and pulls your dress upwards to your waist to help him stand between your legs with the slit of the fabric. You sigh against his lips at his touch over your smooth thighs, and, under the dress, Rafe grips onto your skin and pulls you directly into his hips, making you moan against his mouth.

His hands look for a certain piece of fabric, your panties, under your dress as he pulls you against him, but all he feels is skin. He brings his hand up and grips your face with the same force as he did your hips, thumb digging into your cheek as he held your jaw.

He pulls you back, noticing just a slight smudge of your lipstick, and you smile maliciously at him, knowing exactly why he’s behaving the way he is. He lets out a dry laugh, not finding any sort of humor like you did, and kisses you a single time before whispering directly into your lips, “You’re such a—”

“Panty lines, Rafe, panty lines!” You interrupt him without being able to contain your smile.

Your lips melt into a kiss again, more aggressive this time due to Rafe’s discovery, and you can’t help but continue to smile into the kiss, moving your shoulders until you feel the dress’ strap slide down your skin. Rafe’s hands slide from your jaw to your neck, and your hands slide down his torso all the way to his belt, currently almost glued to you too because of how tightly Rafe holds you to him.

You pull his belt to get him closer to you and finally pull at the buckle to undo it. Rafe’s hands let you go for a second, he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, only separating your lips for those seconds and coming back to you.

You finish undoing his belt and move onto the button and zipper, while Rafe’s hands move back to hold your hips. Rafe groans against your mouth, and you grab onto his boxers, dragging your nail over the elastic band. You smile at the way he responds, pulling you roughly towards him and grabbing onto your skin as if it’s his lifeline.

Your hands pull his clothing down, and Rafe is quick to lift a hand and push yours away from him. Your lips don’t separate through it all, and Rafe brings his hand in between your legs. His touch immediately rips a reaction out of you, making you moan louder against his lips while your back stretches with pleasure.

Rafe’s fingers drag from your clit to your entrance, not ever stimulating you on purpose, just moving so, so slow that you consider biting him in response. You turn your head to break the kiss, and Rafe just continues kissing down your jaw and neck, as if unphased. Your breathing is heavy, and your heart is beginning to seem to want to beat out of your chest, but your lips are only able to whisper a single plea, “Rafe, please, we have to be quick.”

“Please, what?” He teases like he always does.

You groan, naturally, and he smiles, “Please, Rafe, just fuck me”

In response to your words, Rafe did not hold back. He glues back your lips to his, and the finger over your clit pulls away, leaving you cold and waiting. His hand goes back to your hip to hold you in the exact position he wants you in, and, right after pulling his hand away again, you just feel his dick lining up with your entrance and sliding into you.

The sensation almost feels like too much, making you pull away from the kiss and bring your hands to his shoulders. Your hands hold onto his skin, underneath the opened suit, and Rafe groans at the feeling of your nails on his skin. He doesn’t move, once he’s able to slide entirely into you, and all you hear for those seconds of no movement is both of your elaborate breathings.

Rafe breaks the silence, “Fuck, you feel so good.” making you chuckle and pull him into a kiss.

As soon as he begins to move, you almost feel as if your body is not your own. The pleasure is too much, and you can’t help but pull Rafe closer to you. His movements are steady and slow at first, but, at this moment, it almost feels like enough. Something about being worried and anxious throughout the night made you feel as if your body is now overly sensitive to everything that Rafe touches.

Your moans aren’t words, just whimpers and sounds of pleasure, never too loud and even sometimes a whisper. Rafe looks down at you, as one of his hands moves to wrap his arm around your back to support your body close to his. Your hair looks perfect again, and your lips only have a slight smudge at a corner, almost unnoticeable. One of your dress’ straps has slid off your shoulder, making his half-closed eyes stare at your jiggling flesh. He pulls you in closer and speeds up ever so slightly, letting the sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy fill his ears and consume him.

You lean your forehead on his shoulder, as one of your hands slides out of his suit and wraps around his bicep. His cock, moving back and forth, his tight hold on your body, your naked chest now glued to his, it seems like too much for you to even open your eyes. It is as if flames consume your body, from your legs to your head, centering around your stomach. It burns at your insides, and all you can think of is how good it feels.

You know you have to be quick about it. Your biggest worries are just a few steps away, so possibly able to find you and what you’re doing, bringing to absolute ruin. But, now, you can't bring yourself to care. And especially not when Rafe moves to grab onto your face and brings your lips to his, making your mind go fuzzy, and your heart flip with love and pleasure for this man.

The kiss starts with form, but it loses it within seconds with some of your moans and Rafe’s groans. Both of you are lost, and getting worse with each stroke and each kiss. You have obviously gotten wetter, you both can hear it, and Rafe can’t help but reach underneath your dress to touch you.

You let out a gasp, which turns into a moan when he touches your clit, and he simply holds your face in place, unwrapping his arm from your body. Your hands reach to hold onto the counter of the bathroom, and the cold stone bites at your skin once you touch it.

Rafe kisses you slowly one last time and lets go of your face before he speeds up his thrusts a last time, making his movements fast and rough, but sloppy. Yet you swear that you have never felt better. His cock reaches deep into you and with each stroke, it touches where it should. His finger slides with ease over your swollen clit, and your pussy squeezes him in response to all of it.

Rafe’s fist closes with all its might as he keeps going and you moan his name, close to his ear. Both of you are beginning to break your first sweat as the peak of your pleasure gets closer and closer. You can almost taste it. Rafe pulls you back to him, maybe a bit too forcefully, but you couldn't care less. You moan into his skin as he gets you closer and closer to your orgasm, and your hands claw at his skin for it.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “Come on, baby, come for me.”

After just another two thrusts, you sob out a moan into his neck and Rafe puts your mouth to his in a kiss. Your hands reach for his face, even while still reacting to your too-powerful orgasm, and he follows you right after, pounding into you with a force you know will leave you sore, but for a cost that you could accept any day.

As both your heart rates slow down and your breathing calms, your mouths go back into a normal kiss, your usual slow and loving. Rafe wraps both of his arms around you, pulling your flesh impossibly closer to his, and you relax close to him, ignoring what could possibly await downstairs.

(…)

It took you embarrassingly long to fix your makeup before you got down the stairs with Rafe. No one is walking in anymore, which can only mean that it is finally late enough for anyone else to come in fashionably late.

Your heels click as you walk a little too fast due to your anxiety, Rafe stays a little behind, letting you in the room before he does. You push the door open, and the sound of all the conversations around the room hits you all at once. You look over at Rafe before you walk in, and he nods at you to go.

You walk through a few groups of people and look over at where you left your parents, only to find them in the same place - your father just a few steps behind. You fight the urge to smile a bit and begin to walk towards them, but your legs stop moving when noticing Kristy with her arm crossed with your mother, as her mother stands right next to her too.

All three of them are in a deep conversation, but smiles are all around, which only soothes your soul a slight bit.

Kristy’s mother, Natasha, is another type of woman entirely. In all the years of your friendship, you had only seen her a few times, always out in business. She is a hauntingly beautiful woman. And, yes, even after so many years, you too are scared of her, while your mother never seems to get enough of her.

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother says, noticing you right away. You walk closer to them, trying to hide how stiff your body feels due to the adrenaline coursing through you, “Are you feeling alright? You were gone for a bit.”

“Yeah, just a stomachache, I think.” You tell her, “But I’m feeling much better now.”

“Do you think it’s something you could’ve eaten?” She asks, and your eyes move over to Kristy who is obviously staring at you, hard.

“Maybe.” You shrug at your mom, ready to change the topic of conversation.

“I told you to put the leftovers in the fridge yesterday, but, no, you just had to do it when you felt like it, right, missy?” She teases, looking over at Natasha to make her join in on the motherly teasing session.

But, when you look over at her, you would have to be blind to not notice the way she is looking at you. Different from the way she used to, which could only mean one thing.

“Oh,” She plays along, hiding her staring slightly better, this time. “Kristy is just the same, you know? Always does things on her own time, no matter what I tell her.”

Kristy would’ve rolled her eyes at her mother’s words if she wasn’t occupied staring at someone in the distance. Her silence was so out of character that you weren’t the only one to notice her distraction, because your mother looked faster, and her mouth followed at light speed.

“How can a son arrive so late to an event organized by his own family? A shame, really.” You tense further as she shakes her head.

Kristy tenses too at her words, quickly looking away and down at her feet for a few seconds in shame. Having had enough of her shit, you can't help but continue to glare at her.

Your mother, oblivious, does not notice the tension building up, but you’re thankful for that as she keeps herself busy by bad-mouthing your boyfriend instead.

“No surprise that Rose doesn’t bring him to so many of her parties,” She says, “I would do the same.”

“What a disgrace of a boy...” Natasha says but while directly facing you, almost as if trying to talk to you about him. “Do you know him?”

“What?” You ask her, trying to hold back your defensive tone.

“Rafe Cameron,” She reminds you, “Do you know him?”

Your mother looks at you, intrigued by the conversation. “Oh, no, not at all.” She answers for you.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks you with a dip of her chin, making Kristy turn her head to her in shock. “He’s not too far from your age.”

“A year.” You tell her, and she nods, beginning to grin at your response. Your mother looks at you in interest but, of course, nothing malicious is crossing her mind, “I’ve talked to him before, yes.”

You can come to very much regret saying such a thing in a few seconds but, at the end of the day, if you ever want your mom to know of your relationship, she better start warming up to the idea that you at least know the guy.

“You have?” Your mother’s interest could not have been more peaked.

“Yeah,” You nod, noticing that Kristy’s shocked eyes have now come to face you too, “Not as bad as everyone says.” You shrug.

“Really?” Natasha asks, humor thick in her voice, but you ignore it and simply nod. “Oh, I’ve heard the opposite, that he and his friends are an absolute horror to talk to. Very rude, weren’t they, Kristy?”

Kristy’s eyes almost pop out of her head once her mother mentions her name and her experiences.

“Oh-oh, uhm…” She hesitates, making your mom almost want to shake her to spit it out. “I didn’t have the greatest conversations, no.”

“How come?” Your mom pressures her, pulling at their crossed arms, urging her to tell all, but Kristy is nowhere near ready to let it out.

“Just some parties, you know.” She shrugs, “He must have been drunk a few of those times, so he wasn’t the nicest.”

“What kind of things did he say to you?” Your mom asks.

“Oh, not to me. But my friends, for example… One day, they were looking for someone.” You fight the urge to punch her, this time, “And asked him- because he is… friends... with her.” She takes a deep breath, “They asked him about her, but he just told them to ‘f’ off and all that.”

“Who were they looking for again, sweetheart? His girlfriend, was it?” Her mother asks, only looking at her daughter in fake curiosity.

Your mother could not even contain her shock, letting out a gasp so loud that some people around you turned to look at her. You, on the other hand, feel as if someone had just thrown you into an iced lake. “He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, yes, he does.” Natasha says, “Quite a shock to me too when I heard.”

“Do you happen to know who it is?” She says, leaning in as if to know a secret.

You physically butt in by putting your hand in between them, stopping Natasha from opening her mouth any further and making the two of them look at you.

“It’s his private life, we shouldn’t talk about it.” You say, with a tone so serious that it made your mom notice some of the attention you all were gathering around you.

She smiles at the people, who turn away right after, and, with a lower tone of voice, she says, “Oh, honey, please. That boy has never been private a day in his life.” Your mother insists, “It’s nice of you to try and be civil but with Rafe Cameron?”

“You’re not being fair, mom.” You tell her, letting her continue to think of you as just a nice person trying not to dirty her pure and innocent ears with gossip. “You don’t know him.” You look at the other two women.

Kristy listens to your words and notices her mother’s silence. She did not expect her mother to try and provoke you as much as she did, but Kristy can only blame herself for that. She shouldn’t have told her everything she knew, but it had been a bad day, and she thought she could trust her mother to stay quiet. After all, she had always seemed to like you. Yet, there was something about your words just now that sounded like they were meant for her too.

After all, you were defending Rafe from her. Again.

“You know him that well?” Kristy asks you, after the seconds of silence – and delusion from you, since you thought it had been enough to calm down the conversation and delay it for another time.

You look at her with eyes that could only mean two things to any onlooker, either that you were offended by her words or the complete opposite, that you were pleading with her to just stop whatever she and her mother were doing.

“I wouldn’t say that well.” You say, slowly, trying to measure your every word, so it wouldn’t lead to any misunderstandings. “But I have talked to him and seen him a lot of times. I’m at his home for a lot of hours, remember?”

“That’s right, you tutor the Wheezie girl.” Your mother suddenly remembers, “But, the rumors about him can’t be all that big of a lie. So many people tell them. A new one each week.”

“But... Like you just heard, he just got himself a girlfriend. Even you were surprised.” She nods, not understanding where you’re going with this. “If he can get himself a girl to date after all the rumors about him, maybe he’s not that bad.” You shrug.

You continue to look at your mom, in silence, watching as she slowly bites the bait towards a more open-minded and not-so-horrible mental image of Rafe, but you watch it all burn down in front of your eyes, right as Kristy starts to speak.

“That really depends on what type of girl you imagine him dating,” She says with a chuckle as if finding what you said cute or amusing. Deep down she is boiling in anger with the way you dodge every question with ease, like you've been hiding for so long, you already became accustomed to it all. “You’re imagining him with a well-mannered girl, about his age, a great student, and with great friends that can only be a good influence on him—”

“Kristy,” You warn her.

“But the reality is that we don’t know who the girl is.” She continues in a tone that not even a saint would believe to be truthful, “His girlfriend can very much be like any other slut. Someone who can only match his energy, someone who can only ruin herself further than she has already ruined.”

She looks you in the eyes as she says those exact words, fueled with rage after hearing you say all those things about how everyone just misunderstands Rafe.

“That is…” Your mother says and hesitates, not loving the words used to describe the hypothetical girl just now.

“What’s wrong?” Kristy asks you, not even hiding her tone this time, “Stomachache, again?”

Your breathing is uncontrollable, and your heart is beating rapidly. You’re not sure if it’s adrenaline, anger, heartbreak, anxiety, or everything all at once. All of what is being unsaid is being left in the air, like a toxic cloud, which everyone just watches you seem to be the only one in the conversation to be able to breathe it in.

“Something like that.” You say with gritted teeth with a short smile.

Your mother’s face twists with worry and Rafe is quickly forgotten. She turns to you, but you can’t take your eyes off the two women who appear to be practically orgasming with how they are loving to threaten to ruin your life with casual banter.

“We can go ask Rose if she has something for a stomachache, honey, would you like me to do that?” You don’t answer but try to shake your head, which goes unnoticed. “Or maybe in our car, maybe I have something for you to take.”

“I’m fine, mom, really.”

“What’s happening over here?” You hear your father’s worried voice behind you, which makes you turn to face him.

“She’s feeling sick—” Your mom tries to tell him.

“Sick? Did you eat something you shouldn’t?” He asks you, “Was it those leftovers? Honey, we’ve told you that you should put them in the fridge—”

“You should tell them the truth,” A voice interrupts your father, making you look at the two women again, your heart now at your stomach making you even more nauseous.

“What?” Your mother asks with pure confusion over her features, “What are you talking about?”

You look at the two mothers, both looking at each other, one with a know-it-all look, while the other is lost in absolute confusion.

“If it was my Kristy, I would’ve wanted her to tell me everything since day one.” She says, facing me again.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say to her, your volume low so as to not get any attention from anyone outside of this conversation, but your mother’s gasp might have gotten some looks right after, again.

“Apologize!” Your mother says to you, “You cannot speak to her this way, she’s your friend’s—”

“No,” Kristy says, only making your mother’s frown deepen. “Actually, you might not even know but we haven’t been friends for quite a few weeks, isn’t that right?” She smiles at you.

“What?” Your father asks, shocked to know that the once inseparable childhood best friends are no more.

“Tell them.” She tells you, making your eyes water, from anger, embarrassment, or complete horror that this is finally happening, but you fight the tears. “They deserve to know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hold in your need to gasp for a sob that you are holding in.

“Could either of you two just tell us what is going on, already?” Your father asks, leaning his hand on your back to try and offer you comfort, but his touch only repulses you, given what you are being forced to say.

Your panic rises as you’re unable to scream hysterically at the women in front of you to just disappear and mind their own business due to how many people surround you. How many of your parents’ friends and coworkers surround you, and how you would just embarrass them if you even dared to say half of what this woman and her daughter deserve to hear.

“Maybe we should go home,” You tell your dad, “I’m not feeling good.”

Your mother can’t even help but look at the two women in front of you sideways. She has known the women for years and has never seen them behave the way that they are behaving. But, again, she also has known you since you were born. You’re half of her. And she hasn’t seen you talk or act the way you are, right now.

“What is it that she’s talking about, honey?” Your mother pulls at you, worried but frightened too with what could be about to come out of your mouth.

“Let’s just go.” You tell your mom, feeling your entire burn in horror. They will know everything after today. There is no other way around it. “I'll tell you at home, please.”

Kristy's mother speaks again. “Just say it.”

She opens her mouth, but you make sure to speak over her, “You don’t know nothing about me or my life, you have no right—”

“Just like I don’t know your boyfriend, right?” She asks, and everything around you goes silent, “There... See? Not so hard.”

“Wha-what? What do you mean by that?” Your mom says, taking a step closer to her, hoping that she had misheard her.

Natasha does a short smile at your mother, and your father, having not been present during the past conversation, simply brushes his hand up and down on your back. He still does not understand a single thing of what they are saying, but he is worried about you.

No one says another word, and Natasha and her daughter walk out of the conversation. You recoil from your father’s touch and take a step back from both of your parents. Your breathing is beginning to sound strange to you, and your skin feels too hot to the touch even though chills run down your body. Your heart is breaking and being ripped out at the same time, and the world has begun to lose its center of gravity because it is suddenly too hard to stand.

Your mother continues to stand a step away from you, not moving, thinking to herself about how she and her own mind can be wrong. How this is not her reality, and how when she turns to face you, she will find you and Kristy, still as best friends, laughing at her face for being so dumb to even believe all of this. But she doesn’t. She turns, and she finds you pulling away from your father and walking away, ready to get out of the building.

She stands there, watching you walk out of the room, and notices that Kristy is following right behind. She can’t move or speak for a few seconds. Her husband stands beside her, asking her what the hell is going on, and in the corner of her eye, she sees him. She turns her head to him and watches him, with his blue suit just like her daughter’s dress and hair cut short. He has a charming smile on his face as he speaks to a group of men with his father on his side. He is acting unbothered and calm like he always does in these events.

As her heart continues to pound, her husband follows her eyes and stares confusingly at Rafe Cameron, trying to decipher what could be going on, but to no avail.

You forcefully clean your tears with your shaking hands and walk quickly down the hall towards the door to the outside. Right next to the door, you notice three people talking, but before you can even get close to them, a voice stops you.

“I didn’t mean for this to be like this,” Kristy says to you, and your blood boils at the sound of her voice,

“Oh, fuck you.” You exhale out the words at her, knowing the people in the room of the event won’t hear a thing, turning to face her. “You and your mother knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I didn’t want it to be today.” She shakes her head, not exactly sure what she should say to you first, “I just thought that your parents deserved the truth.”

“Oh my god, Kristy, shut up! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP with your 'could do no evil' attitude!! No one asked you for anything! I was going to tell my parents when it was safe for me to do so.” You try to hold in your tears, even when you know you have every right to cry, “You bitch, I probably don’t even have a house to live in right now, and all you care about is how you could justify your own stupid actions? Fuck you!” You try to turn to walk away again.

“I—” She tries to walk with you.

“No! Stop!” You tell her, holding out your hand, “You have said and done enough today, Kristy. I do not want to ever see you again. I will never forgive you for anything that you and your mother have done today.” You can’t even hold yourself back from both continuing and letting out some tears, “I am an adult, I have been an adult this entire time. I choose my own relationships, and you have nothing to do with it.”

“You know that is not why I don’t approve…”

“Exactly! Because I don’t need you to approve, Kristy. You are not my mother and you sure as hell aren’t my friend anymore. Your approval means absolutely nothing to me, right now. Maybe before you fucked up, absolutely, that is why I didn’t say anything before, but now?” You run your hands through your hair in frustration as you snicker at your own words, “And you called me a slut, for Christ’s sake. In front of my own fucking mother.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t give a shit, Kristy!” You wave your arms in the air for emphasis, “I do not give a single shit about what you meant or even still want to mean. You have officially and royally fucked me for life, and you think you have the right to run after me?” You ask as you angrily wipe away your tears.

Kristy bites down her tongue and looks at you, “I just don’t understand how you think that what I did was so wrong. I get it, I should’ve let you have the conversation with your parents at your own time, but also look at my side. Why did you hide him? If he is so great, as you say, why did you hide him from us? From me?” She pauses, “We were best friends. I only wanted what was best for you. Of course, I wouldn’t like to hear that you were with him, but I would’ve still preferred to have you tell me the truth.” You turn your back to her and start walking again, “That is why I will never understand this relationship.”

“Do you really want to know, Kristy?” You say out loud, turning to face her again, noticing how she hasn’t moved closer, “Because it was fun. In the beginning, all of this was for fun. I had fun with him. I felt like I could do whatever the hell I wanted with my life without anyone judging me or thinking less of me. And it was a secret because it was all there was to it: fun! And, after everything, he was nice to me, and he was gentle with me.” You take a breath, “And since that moment on, I gave him more of me and, even when he royally fucked up too, he made sure to make up for it and stay by me.”

Kristy opens her mouth to twist your words, but you don’t let her.

“And before you even say. I do not give a shit if he drinks or if he fights, or if he does fucking coke every single day in his life, you know why? Because at the end of the day, he will come back to me and love me, and let me love him like he deserves to be loved.” You sniffle, “Rafe has not mistreated me a day in his life. He takes care of me, and he loves me, and that is all I could ever ask of him… And the fact that you couldn’t even try and get to know him- It really shows who I must choose to include in my life from now on.”

You take a breath and hear the door to the event open again, so you decide to end the conversation.

“Goodbye, Kristy.”

You turn again and walk over to the front door. When you walk closer, you notice that the three people who used to stand by the door have stopped talking, pretty sure right after you started screaming. You almost apologize as you walk past them, but you notice that one of them is Rose. You almost freeze once you realize that now she too knew of your relationship with Rafe, but your body is too locked into the idea of getting the hell out of there, so you simply look away and walk right off into the cold night’s breeze.

What the fuck are you going to do now?

I finally did it! I honestly believe that this was the hardest chapter to edit. Everything just felt so cartoonishly evil, I hated it and had to basically rewrite it. I was so stressed, I really wanted it to be good. Hopefully, it was worth the wait!!

If you're wondering where I've been or if I'm okay, I'm more than okay. I'm just really busy with uni since my professors seem to hate me, and I had no inspiration for the entirety of my summer vacation. So, now, when my life is at the peak of stress, I decided to post this (just to add more stress, but anyway).

I really hope you enjoyed this! I am so sorry that it took me this long <3

[suhlogic]

paradise [kim mingyu x fem!oc]

summary: going to la union for a temporary escape from your busy city life was supposed to just be all about you, not until you meet a hot stranger at a bar and things escalate quite interestingly for the week.

warnings: slight age gap, dom!mingyu, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, creampie, size kink, praise kink, dry humping in a semi-public place, biting kink (slight), cum-eating

[🔞]

your city life proved to be exhausting, still navigating everything at 21 despite being independent and already moved out of your parents' house but the corporate life was a bitch to deal with on top of your mother nagging you to fulfill your filial duties as the eldest child to provide when they are still fully capable of supporting themselves and your younger sibling. so here you were, driving alone in your car on the way to la union to unplug for a week. the car ride was boring and tiring since your friends were all busy and you didn't want to ride a bus alone. finally, you arrived at your hotel early morning and got everything settled before you slept to make up for the exhaustion.

after a good few hours of decent sleep, you decide to get ready for the beach and put on a light red bikini that was just held together by strings that was properly showing off your huge tits. you also put on a skirt and a thin knitted coverup while your hair was up in a cute claw clip and grabbed your small tote bag on your way out to have some fun while the sun sets. as you reach the seaside, you decided to lay your towel on the sand and put your bag on it as you enjoyed swimming in the water basking in the sun.

[11:00pm]

after washing up back at your hotel room to grab dinner at the bar, you put on a pink dress with a thigh-high slit that was backless with just a pair of lace panties underneath. as you make your way into a chair by the bar counter and order your food, you mind your own business. after all, the fun doesn't start until the alcohol gives you enough courage to get fucked by a handsome stranger.

sipping on your cocktail was already affecting you and noticed that a tall handsome guy, with sharp gentle features and a short cropped haircut was eyeing you. his sun-kissed skin looking perfect under the strobing lights, athletically built body showing off through the shirt he's left the few buttons open with biceps practically begging to rip through its sleeves. but you weren't going to make it easy for him, catching his stares and waving back at the mystery guy. luring him to come over to your spot, and it fucking worked like magic.

his aura was intoxicating. the moment he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, he immediately had you hooked. "so what's a pretty girl like you doing in this place?" he smirked. you felt taken aback by his deep voice, his breath being minty with a hint of the gin and tonic he was drinking earlier. "just looking to have fun,although i've heard the real fun starts in the bedroom" you bite back with a smile from your pink glossy lips.

he laughed at the smooth rebuttal and reached his hand out to introduce himself, "feisty, i see...it's so rude that i didn't introduce myself. i'm mingyu by the way," he said. "and i'm _____," you shake his hand. "you know, i could show you a fun time what do you say?" his huge hand grabs the small of your back, the tension and close proximity making you yearn for his touch. the flashing lights and the music thumping on full blast against the speakers felt so right under the hot twinkling stars on a summer night,

"don't worry baby, they're too busy to care about what we're doing" he whispers as he holds you tighter and grinds his clothed member against your ass harder, "fuck, let's get out of here...my room." you whine as you begin to face him and grab his hand, leaving after paying your tabs.

once it was all settled, you and mingyu began to walk back to your hotel with hands intertwined together no one but the stars and the waves crashing against the shore witnessing romance brewing between the two of you as the music began to fade into the distance. the walk back to your place consisted of laughter and getting to know each other more, you began to learn that he was also getting away from the chaos of the city—family stuff, in his own words. not long after, the two of you made your way inside the elevator and pressed the floor where your room was.

you grab him by this nape and pull him in for a kiss, tasting your sweetness on his tongue and glistening pink lips which turns heated the moment your hands travel down his toned abs and into his boxers, feeling up his manhood—lengthy, thick and hard. you pull his pants down along with his underwear as his dick springs free slapping against his stomach past his belly button.

"will it fit?" you give him your best doe eyes as you begin to jerk him off, spreading his precum around the slit of his bulbous mushroom tip. "don't tease me, i need to be inside you now." he moans, the lust in his eyes darkening as he takes his dick in his hand and rubs it up and down your wet folds before inserting it slowly. his tip feeling hot and heavy against your wetness, moaning at how his dick feels inside you.

"didn't expect to pick up a hot stranger like you tonight..." you smirk, shifting to sit up on the bed while he grabs a towel to clean the both of you up and runs a bath. "i've had my eyes on you since you walked into the bar , i'm glad the night ended with you under me," he teasingly winks as he motions for you to come sit in between his legs and starts to wipe you down.

but mingyu couldn't help leaving slow and soft kisses down your cheeks and down your jawline as he cleans you up, "babe... don't start now, i can barely walk," you laugh, trying to suppress your moans. "i can carry you anywhere, don't worry," he whispers as you lean your neck to face him and pull him in for another kiss. after cleaning the two of you up, mingyu carries you in bridal style into the bathroom and helps you get into the bathtub and follows suit behind you and engulfs you in his warmth.

his biceps hugging you flush against his chest as you grab on his forearms biting at it softly and kissing it. you don't know if he''ll remain a stranger for the night or someone you'd be spending the rest of your life with but surely you hope it's the latter. he smirks at your antics and kisses your cheek, "happy 2nd anniversary, my love."

[themultifanshipper]

can you write something with driver!reader x max with 🔵?

You and Max had been hovering around each other for months. Making each other jealous to try and get the other to do something about it. It had turned into a sick little game of who would crack first.

Tonight you'd gone a step too far and gotten a bit too close with his friend.

Warnings: Ferrari!reader, jealousy, angry max, drinking, smut, choking, rough sex, crying, fingering, bickering, rivals to lovers, Lando as a plot device, cliches, I'm sorry this is probably not my best work but I put everything I had into this so enjoy :3

requested from my prompt list

The bass was pumping through the walls of the club where you had decided to celebrate your victory. P1 baby! And with Ferrari back on their A game, you and Charles both got a podium with Lando on the second step, while Max just went back to his driver's room seething with rage after a penalty left him p5.

It felt amazing to finally be on top and you dragged your best drinking buddy Lando to the club as soon as possible for a night of wild celebration and many, many drinks that people had bought you.

Lando knew the game you were trying to play with Max, you were just using him to make Max jealous, but he would be damned if he didn’t take full advantage of the opportunity.

And you certainly weren’t going to refuse the advances of Lando Norris, one of the sexiest men you’d ever laid eyes on.

That’s how you ended up with him gripping your hips as he moved them to the beat, one thigh slotted between yours as you ground against each other, losing yourself as his lips made their way across your jaw, to the junction between your neck and your ear, your eyes closing, body lost in the pleasurable sensation.

You two danced for so long that you’d almost forgotten your game, when the feeling of Lando’s heated skin was suddenly ripped away from your greedy hands.

Before your alcohol-addled brain could register what was happening you were being dragged out of the club and into the street.

You vaguely registered Max hailing a taxi and getting you back to the hotel.

He all but threw you into a room before locking the door behind him. You barely remember getting there, but you were in a hotel room that clearly wasn't your own, red bull branded clothes strewn all over the place.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, shaking with barely contained anger.

“What?” You batted your eyelashes in faux-innocence “Am I not allowed to celebrate my hard earned win?”

“Not by crawling all over my friends like a slut”

“They're my friends too, Max, I can do what I want with them”

That seemed to make him hesitate, but his anger came back full force as soon as the image of Lando's greedy hands all over you flashed through his mind.

“Stop fucking around in front of me”

“And why should I do that, it's not like you have the balls to do anything, and I have needs, Max” You were getting bolder by the minute, partly because of the alcohol, but also because you were sick of the games.

“Like that fucking kid could ever satisfy you” he scoffed, you just smirked.

“Oh I don't know, he seemed pretty eager to please in the club, maybe I could go back and find out if it was just his phone I could feel in his pocket, it felt pretty satisfactory to me…”

“Stop fucking talking about Lando!” he growled and stepped closer to you unconsciously.

“Come over here and make me, coward”

That's what made him lose it. Max Verstappen was a lot of things, but he never ran away from what he wanted.

You ended up propped up against the wall, Max was knuckle deep inside you and you knew you weren’t going to last long. You didn’t know how it was possible for him to find the spot that made your knees buckle so fast, but he brought you to the edge of extasy in no time, only to stop just as you were about to reach the precipice.

You whined and clawed at his shoulders, but he just grabbed your wrists and held them above your head.

“Say you’re fucking mine. Say I’m the only one who’s allowed to have you like this…”

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. You couldn’t help but run your mouth a little bit more though.

“I think the British driver that got p2 today would disagree with that sentiment- “

His hand came up to swiftly wrap around your neck and squeeze, cutting you off.

“Don’t talk about him when I’ve got you dripping down your thighs just from a couple of fingers” he growled, other hand going to undo his belt to push his jeans and underwear down, just enough to free his cock from the constraints of his maddeningly tight jeans.

He roughly dragged you to the bed, turning you around and pushing you down so hard you had to put your hands out to catch your fall.

“Going to make you take my cock and prove to you I’m the only one who can make you scream for me.”

You were certainly wet enough, and he didn’t give you any time to respond as he slid into you with unwavering strength.

Your arms gave out immediately and you fell face first into the sheets, struggling to breathe as he gripped your hips tight and immediately started a bruising pace with his hips.

Your whole body was on fire, not from any pain, but from the intensity of his cock pushing into your g-spot mercilessly, and you cried out as your orgasm crept up on you in record time.

He didn’t stop though, forcing you to endure his relentless pace and stamina and you quickly turned to mush, the pleasure coursing through you so intense that he had to hold you up by your hips.

He pulled out suddenly and the sudden emptiness sent your brain and body into a frenzy, babbling incoherent sounds that sounded like his name, and ‘please’.

Max turned you over onto your back and slid back into you, hooking your legs over his shoulders to deepen the angle, and to look at your face as he brought you the edge a second time.

You cried as the euphoria took over your body, his hands coming up to wipe the tears away from your cheeks and he came not long after, pumping you full and dropping his sweaty forehead onto yours.

Once you’d both come down from your highs, and you had regained the ability to speak, he looked into your eyes. All the anger from before had disappeared, and now he looked scared, terrified even. You just stared at each other, not knowing quite what to say after that.

After a while he finally plucked up the courage to ask “Can I kiss you? Please.”

You smiled and fresh tears (this time of joy) sprung to your eyes as your hands came up either side of his face.

“Yes, Max…” you whispered “kiss me, pl-”

Once again he cut you off, and his lips were softer than you ever could have imagined. It just felt right, the two of you, wrapped perfectly together like two pieces in a puzzle.

“I love you…” you murmured, breaking away for air.

It was his turn for tears to start forming as the relief washed over him that this wasn’t a one time thing, and that you truly felt the same way he did.

You both missed your alarms, and subsequent attempts by your teams to contact you, and therefore your flights.

“How the hell are we going to get back to Monaco, now?” he asked as you both sat in bed nursing hangovers.

“Well…” you said tentatively “I know someone who’s private jet is probably still here…”

He looked confused for a moment, then his eyes widened and he shrieked.

“Absolutely not! We are NOT flying with fucking Lando!”

Spoiler alert, you had no choice... This was going to be a long flight

[kingkat12]

unbearable (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, handjob, alcohol, graphic imagery, angst, mention of drugs, physical violence (almost), asshole teenage boys

summary: Roman had heard your no, respected your wishes, but now you were wondering how big of a blow it truly was for him to get his sexual advances rejected-- why was he blowing this so out of proportion? was something else maybe going on in that brain of his?

word count: 11,053 (am i on the brink of insanity maybe)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9

a/n: sorry for the wait!! school is driving me nuts... BUT SO IS ROMAN!!! GRRR, enjoy!!!<333

Vladimir Nabokov, the author of Lolita, once wrote to his wife; "I love you, I'm waiting for you unbearably,"

... Waiting for Roman was unbearable, too.

Shatteringly unbearable. Images of wanting to ball up into a contortion of nothingness haunted me, and the need to become a single entity of anger and despair clawed wounds into my skin. I kept imagining I would grow extra arms to help my body become a circle, an ouroboros, but not stopping at the tail-- a snake eating itself to death.

If I could eat myself, I would. Not like an apple, not with gentle nips-- no, I would sink my teeth into my flesh and tear, rip, pull with all my might. Pull, pull, until I nothing but a gushing wound. 

This is what Roman was driving me to. 

Is this a bearable state to be in? Constantly?

If I were to ask myself that question once more, I would answer that I no longer thought anything at all. I refused to. My brain stopped working properly the first time I saw him, anyway. Therefore none of my actions actually mattered. They had no consequence. No consequence at all, just like Roman probably saw his actions.

I should've listened to him the night we got together; "I shut down," he'd said. "I retaliate when I'm angry." Maybe I needed to be diagnozed with selective hearing? It was starting to seem as though I shut my ears whenever he spoke, only listening to the muffled sound of his voice as my pupils formed into pulsing hearts. 

Still, it seemed I wasn't the only one with selective hearing. If I closed my eyes, I could live through the moment I tried to tell Roman I wasn't up for having sex with him last night. It was like he didn't hear me, didn't register it; but in hindsight, it didn't feel like it was with ill intent. 

... Maybe this hearing thing actually needed to be addressed. Maybe we both needed a trip to the doctor's office to tell them we couldn't hear or think properly.

While we're there, I think I'd also like to have him referred to a therapist of sorts. Maybe he could learn how to communicate properly and not run off into the night when he doesn't get laid?

Oh, well-- a girl is allowed to dream. Get a little lost in her head. Sometimes, that's necessary. Especially in moments like these;

I spotted Roman beneath the bleachers with some of his friends, leaning against the metal structure. His hair was styled in the usual heartbreaker style, and the two upper unclasped buttons of his shirt allowed me to glance at the small area of exposed skin-- I spotted the vial of my blood around his neck, and the longer I stood here, I remembered how soft he was to the touch; especially when he was shirtless and on top of me. I hated how I was thinking about him like a dumb cat in heat. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off him; Roman seemed so carefree, laughing with his friends, unaware of how ridiculously handsome he looked. 

He should be jailed for walking around looking like that. For life, preferably. 

My eyes focused on the way he lazily balanced his cigarette between his fingers, taking slow, careful drags as he listened to his friend talk in the heat of the weather. Now, Roman was as different from yesterday as humanly possible-- I could still see the quiet, retreated version of him he had become last night after the rejection. The one that had practically thrown a fit about not getting laid, which quickly spiraled into what I could only categorize as a mental crisis. Had he been so shocked by getting a no that he had shot himself into existential dread? 

And why was his first conclusion that I didn't want him at all?

For a girl who just said she refused to think, I sure did a lot of it. I decided that enough was enough-- I needed to talk to him. Roman was my boyfriend after all, I should be able to do so.

Still, I couldn't remember the last time I felt this small as I made my way towards him, anxiously clearing my throat before I tapped Roman's shoulder. I hadn't managed to put much strength into the tap, and I was almost worried he wouldn't notice me--

One of his friends chimed in with a nasty grin, motioning for Roman to turn around; "Pretty girl, six o'clock," 

Roman turned his head to me, and it was clear that he hadn't expected to see me. His smile fell a little as he pulled his cigarette away from his lips, making sure to exhale upwards and away from my face. I spotted my hair ties around his wrist-- knowing he still wore them gave me a sense of ease. "Hey, sweets," Roman teased, casual as ever. "The catwalk ain't here, you gotta go down to the city center for that."

I rolled my eyes, watching the smug smirk form on his face as the rest of his friends snickered. Why was he acting so... normal? "Rome, we need to talk,"

"Well, fuck," he mumbled, turning to his friends with a playful shimmer in his green eyes. "It seems I'm in trouble, guys." It was as though he was egging them on as they all collectively ooh-ed, his loyal spectators, his royal servants. 

I didn't like this side of Roman. Jock-Roman. There were many sides of him I didn't like, actually. Or was it maybe that I didn't like myself for liking him at all? This was becoming more of a mind-fuck than expected. And if we were to play mind games, I knew where to strike; "Roman, either you fucking talk to me like a grown man, or I sit down in Daniel's lap during lunch today. Your choice," 

His head turned towards me with nearly inhuman speed, no trace of any humour on his face anymore. The sudden change was chilling-- I would've shivered, had I not expected it. The oohs only got louder from the group of boys, and I watched Roman's eye twitch as he threw his cigarette down to the floor, stomping it. Still, I didn't break eye contact; I had read somewhere that dogs battled for dominance this way. Since when were Roman and I no better than dogs? 

Roman turned to his pack; "Scram," he said, nodding for them to leave. 

They were gone within seconds. 

He turned to me, a tired look about him. "Talk, then,"

"No," I placed myself before him, watching his green eyes follow me. "That's not how a conversation works. One person says something, and the other one responds. Would you like to try that out, maybe practice a little? It seems you didn't do enough of that in elementary school."

Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets. "How sweet of you,"

"What can I say? I'm patient like that,"

"You'd be good with kids,"

"How great that you're acting like a child, then," I sighed, realizing that I needed a different strategy if I wanted to get anything out of this conversation. For now, Roman remained silent, probably holding back a long string of curses. I took another step forward, and I was immediately embraced by the scent of his cologne. Fuck, how I loved the expensive smell of Roman. Still, I knew I had to get myself together; I let my eyes soften as I looked up at him. "You haven't answered any of my calls or messages... I don't get what's going on in your head. I'm simply trying to understand, but you're just running away. Again."

Roman's eyelids hung heavy over his eyes, lashes fluttering lazily as he met my gaze. He let out a loud sigh; "Maybe I just need space? Did you ever weigh that option?" 

"... Do you want space?" This was so damn confusing. "You wanted to be as close as humanly possible last night, though?"

Roman scoffed again-- was it a laugh? He didn't say anything as he looked away, possibly to think. Like this, I spotted the vial again; I let out a relieved breath. To be honest, a part of me was worried he'd take it off. 

Finally, he spoke; "I need some time. Time to think,"

"Think about what?" This was making my heart speed up. "Roman, you're worrying me."

He shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. "Just... time. Is that so damn hard to give?" 

God, how I hated his tone. Hated the way he spoke to me right now, hated it all. It pushed me to say my deepest fear out loud; "If you're seriously breaking up with me because I didn't want to sleep with you with my parents on the other side of the wall, I sure hope you think very, very carefully,"

"What?" Roman seemed to snap out of it, finally looking at me. His brows were drawn together, confused; "I'm not breaking up with you. Aren't you breaking up with me?"

"What?" 

"... What?" 

We both looked at each other with bewilderment. It seemed we had both come to very, very different conclusions. 

"Roman, I'm not breaking up with you?" 

"... Why not?" 

"What?!" It felt like my brain was actively melting-- I groaned, rubbing my temples. "What on earth do you mean, why not?"

"I don't know!" Roman's brain seemed to be malfunctioning as well. He kicked off the metal of the bleachers, his mouth opening and closing as he frantically tried to find the right words. His hands were pulled out of his pockets, flailing; "Fuck, I'm confused! I'm gonna-- gonna hyperventilate, so I need to go. Need to-- Yeah, I'm leaving."

I couldn't believe how fast he took off. I hadn't seen anything like that before. Roman wasn't even running, he was simply walking with very, very long steps, and that was enough to be out of reach for me within seconds. 

I wanted to scream up at the sky-- what even was that conversation just now? The urge to drive my head into the bleachers became overwhelming, unbearable, but I opted to simply kick the structure instead. 

That was a miscalculation on my part. I hissed as the blow to my foot sent jolts of pain up my spine, and I winced as I suppressed the need to jump around on my other foot and look like a clown in the process. I cursed, leaning against the cold metal as I tried to steady my breathing.

This day was not going very well so far.

And it certainly didn't get any better when I heard the shuffling of small footsteps along the grass nearby. 

I should've known-- Letha stopped a few steps away from me, her blonde hair moving away from her face with the passing breeze. I blinked through the pain multiple times to make sure it really was her, that she actually had the nerve to walk up to me again. Sadly, I didn't have Roman to hide behind this time. But she looked so sweet with her hands clasped behind her, along with the unsure little tilt back and forth on her feet; "That didn't look very pleasant," Letha mumbled.

I didn't want to entertain this, yet I did. "What, the kick?"

"Well, that too," Letha's trying smile nearly broke my heart. I hated that we didn't know how to talk to each other anymore. "I meant the fight. Is he acting out?"

"... He's not a child, he's not acting out,"

"Didn't you just call him a child?"

"... He's my boyfriend, we're allowed to fight!" I gnarled. "And who the fuck are you to talk to me about this? How much of that conversation did you hear?"

Letha looked like I had just kicked her. "I always do my homework on the bleachers. You guys chose to fight right beneath me,"

Fuck. "You should've moved, then!--"

"It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces," Letha's green eyes bore into mine, shimmering with traces of dimmed hope. "I have no idea what you're fighting about, but I've known Roman my whole life. That's how he operates, and... that's all I wanted to say. Hope I can be of some help."

An awkward silence fell over us like a damp blanket-- this was uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I stilled. A part of me recognized that Letha would've been the first to know of my problems with Roman, had we not had a falling out. Had she not iced me out, made me an outcast, turned all my friends against me, and practically shoved me down into the dirt. I would've confided in her, asked her for guidance, support-- I grieved our bond all over again. I gave in, shrugging; "Okay. Thanks,"

That seemed to take a weight off Letha's shoulders. As we stood in silence, simply gazing at one another, until her eyes slowly landed on my necklace. Roman's blood. It dawned on me that it was too late to tuck it beneath my shirt, and I awaited some sort of grief from her about it if she recognized what it was--

"Oh," she breathed. "It makes a little more sense, now."

"What does?"

"If he wears your blood around his neck as well, then it all makes perfect sense,"

"What does, Letha?"

The look she gave me sent a cold set of shivers down my spine. It was ominous, like I had been marked by death. Letha shrugged; "Of course he's... on edge, then,"

The chase was getting frustrating. "Care to go on, or are you just going to keep saying cryptic shit?"

"I can't!-- It's hard to explain!" Letha's shoulders slumped in defeat as her inner turmoil streaked her face. "Just imagine you're really, really broke, but you have a hundred dollar bill hanging around your neck... and under no circumstances can you use it." Her eyes nearly drilled holes into mine. "Would it not drive you crazy?"

Why did it sound like she was insinuating that Roman was a?--

No. 

No.

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't bother to give Letha a proper answer before I kicked off the metal of the bleachers, glaring at her as I passed her. "Stay away," I hissed, harshly nudging her shoulder. "Fuck off back to Barbieworld or wherever it is you came from."

As I marched back to the main building, I found it nearly impossible to steady my breathing. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I grasped the vial of blood around my neck, rubbing it between my fingers as my mind raced. 

It was only when I finally got to class and slumped down on the last free seat that I could think back to last night with a clearer vision than before.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir had kept me up long enough to see the sunrise. I wanted to blame it on the author for writing such a captivating book. 

Still, the one thing I hated about literature such as this, was that it never actually said anything straight-forward. It always had to be a nonsense passage with lots of filler words and even more dancing around the actual message;

"Blood's effect on a upir is as much psychological as it is physical. Upirs tend to escalate small arguments in hopes of an eventual physical struggle, a battle that may wound, without properly understanding why. This may lead to a strong sense of insecurity which often settles in the upir's mind and festers, only drawing them forth to the dark road the curse wants them to venture."

That's what was written in the passage about upirs and blood. Nearly impossible to understand, and even further confusing, right? The worst must've been the passage that was written like a self-help book. Did the author seriously think upirs were real?

... Did I?

"And what happens when a upir is exposed to blood, you may ask? There are levels of control which range from person to person. Some may have gotten accustomed to the smell from having cut themselves in earlier years, and some may go into a spiral which is often misdiagnozed as mania in urban psychological trials. But some upirs are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged. The more the upir is around blood in a constant flow, the more the irritation festers, the anger boils, and the innate aggression settles."

And this is where I had to stop. I remember putting the book down to stare at the moon in the distance, wondering why on earth I had fallen into a loophole like this. I couldn't believe how many similarities I could draw between these supposed upirs and my boyfriend-- what did that say about Roman? He was possibly edgier than I had initially thought.

The more I thought about the similarities, the more insane I felt. 

... I needed to return this book to the library. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"The both of you are like two rabid raccoons fighting over scraps in the New York City sewers," Peter grumbled, lazily sweeping the floor with his broom. 

I blinked, no longer rolling up cables as I turned to him. "... Do you have to use the craziest metaphors? And why is it always an animal?"

We had been assigned to clean up after an assembly later that same day, a task I had been able to evade up until now. So, when I spotted Peter also being forced to do this, we both huddled up in the corner of the auditorium backstage and started doing the most mundane tasks with the least effort to pass the time. However, it seemed he had been informed of my petty fight (or whatever the hell this was) with Roman, which was why he was back to making animal metaphors again. "Rabid raccoons..." I mumbled, reaching for a new cable to roll up. "Why the New York City sewers? Why raccoons?"

Peter shrugged; "Uh... Because raccoons are cool?"

Well, that's the thing with boys, isn't it-- there's pure static noise in their brains. I sighed, suppressing a chuckle as I continued my task. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the teacher wasn't catching us slacking off before I turned back to Peter. "Did Roman maybe mention that he thought I was going to break up with him over this?"

"Yeah," Peter also looked over at the teacher just to double check. "I told him it was nonsense, but he's spiraling. He's also gotten obsessed with the idea of joining a raw meat eating contest."

It was impossible not to roll my eyes. Boys. "Seriously, what is up with him these days? Please, bro-code aside, what the fuck is happening?"

I was sure the stupid upir book was the reason my heart jumped when Peter's gaze went straight to my necklace. It almost felt like he was wordlessly trying to hint something-- no, I needed to get this out of my head. 

Still, it chimed in my mind like an old clock;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Peter's voice snapped me out of it-- "I think he's just going through withdrawal,"

"Withdrawal?" I echoed, turning my full attention towards him. That didn't sound good. "What do you mean, withdrawal? From what? He hasn't stopped smoking, if that's what you're talking about."

It seemed to dawn on Peter that he had said something he shouldn't have. His brown eyes widened and he cleared his throat, no longer sweeping the floor as he stopped in his tracks. "You don't know?"

"... You're killing me here,"

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, nodding to himself in defeat. "I would make you promise not to tell him I told you, but I bet you'll want to talk to him about this, so I won't even bother," His grip around the broom tightened; "So... Roman and I used to do coke together. A lot." When he didn't get a reaction, Peter grew visibly nervous. "It used to be the usual thing at parties. Roman always had a stash, and I'd join in from time to time... And he hasn't had a hit for a while, probably since you two got together, so all of this is probably just a part of the withdrawal."

Oh. I had forgotten about this. I blinked, tilting my head to the side as I gazed up at Peter with furrowed brows. Was that supposed to be a big reveal of sorts? Did he seriously think I didn't know that they used to do drugs? That I hadn't seen the both of them leaning over tables, snorting lines as I passed the room to check whether Roman was in there with a girl or not? This confirmed that they didn't notice me that one time I walked in on them in a bathroom while Roman was making the lines neat with his credit card. "Ah, so that's what that was?"

Peter's eyes widened; "... What?"

"The stuff you two were always snorting," Shrugging, I watched the look on his face distort into one of shock. It hit me that he hadn't known the true depths of how obsessed I used to be with Roman, and that I needed to get myself together before I revealed anything further damning; "Peter, I have a little something called vision. And a brain, for that matter. You guys aren't slick."

"We... aren't?"

It was impossible not to laugh, and I reached forward to nudge his shoulder. "Not in the least," To be honest, I was relieved to hear that Roman was coming off drugs and that my ridiculous upir-suspicions had been untrue. Maybe I could finally put all of that behind me and return the stupid book?

... Please. I was afraid I was going crazy.

He scoffed, moving away to continue sweeping the floors with a grumpy look on his face; "Anyway. That's the only explanation I have for you concerning what's up with him, but it's only an assumption. Maybe you should take a step back and let him come to you when he's done freaking out?" Peter glanced at me, almost as though he was plotting something. "Actually... I think I have the perfect thing to take your mind off this."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I regretted it the second I said yes, and I regretted it even more right now.

I had never been the biggest fan of parties, mostly because I was used to constantly getting smacked in the face with the truth that Roman was a bit of a whore (an understatement). So as I stood on the front porch with Peter later that night, surrounded by his friends as I listened to them talk about football (I wasn't paying attention, so I wasn't actually sure of the subject), I couldn't help but feel that same dread as before. I knew that Roman was my boyfriend now, that he wasn't upstairs with some random girl at this party, but the smell of alcohol yanked me right back to the memories. Actually, he wasn't even here at all.

Clutching the empty can of my finished drink, I gently yanked at the hem of Peter's sweater to catch his attention. "This isn't helping," I mumbled, meeting his big, brown eyes. "I feel bad being at this party without Roman... If he finds out, he's going to think I'm here to cheat on him or something. He's insane like that."

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled me aside from the group. "Look, you need to relax, okay? I have it all under control,"

"You... what?"

His mouth pulled into a straight line, realizing he had said too much. Again. "Remember what I said about Roman not being here?"

Oh no. Peter had watched too many rom-coms. "For fuck's sake," I breathed, feeling my heart speed up. "Please don't say you told the both of us to come here?"

As annoying as the situation already was, Peter only made it worse by grinning in my face. He shrugged, brushing the severity off; "Last time I saw him, he was playing beer-pong,"

I was two seconds away from wrapping my fingers around Peter's neck and strangling him to death. "So Roman is running around this party drunk, and maybe also high on coke again while he's ignoring me?" Now, I was even closer to ripping my hair out of my follicles; "Oh, what an amazing idea this was, Peter! What a genius you are, this is just fantastic!"

Peter huffed, placing a condescending hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "He's not high, okay? Just go find him, preferably before he falls over in the pool. I've let him marinade for long enough."

I grimaced-- "Marinade?" I needed to learn to stop trying to decrypt whatever Peter was saying. It never made sense, anyway. "First of all, fuck you. And second..." I took a deep breath, realizing what I was about to do; "... Wish me luck."

My head started pounding to the same rhythm as the song blasting through the speakers when I made my way inside and waded through the crowd. I hated that I was in this situation in the first place, hated that I hadn't spoken to my boyfriend in about twenty-four hours, but most of all...

I hated Roman Godfrey.

I hated the way he made me feel, hated how crazy I had become in my pursuit of him, hated, hated, hated him. However, amid my rage storm, I got a whiff of the scent of cinnamon cigarettes-- that brought me out of the inferno. I could recognize that, mixed with Roman's cologne, anywhere. I instinctively turned, realizing I had passed by the door to the kitchen, and I could be sure my eyes nor sense of smell were deceiving me as I now stood frozen, staring up at my boyfriend's broad shoulders. 

Roman's back was turned to me, but I could see that he was playing another round of beer-pong with a couple of friends scattered around the table. He hadn't noticed me, and I made sure he wouldn't. Still, the one person that caught my eye, was the girl by the counter next to where Roman was standing. I hid my body around the corner, peeking in past the door to catch another glimpse of the girl--

Fuck. It was Jessica. The girl Roman had flirted with to make me jealous the same day I told Letha I had feelings for him. Everything about her made me sick; the way she was dangling her long legs off the counter, staring up at him with literal hearts in her eyes, and how she twirled her blonde hair around her pinky as she tried to catch his attention with multiple calls of his name.

Roman seemed calm, unbothered, until he finally acknowledged her with an annoyed hum. It was only when he turned to face her, having just finished his turn in the game, that I saw that he was now pulling a cigarette out of his signature red box. I let out a shaky sigh of relief as I spotted my hair ties still hanging around his wrist, but I didn't get much time with my comfort before Jessica spoke up. 

Her voice was so painfully nasal; "So are you really seeing her?"

Roman's brows drew together as he balanced a cigarette between his slender fingers. God, how I missed his hands on me. "Who?"

Jessica said my name, followed by a pout. "If it's true, then that's really fucking unexpected. I have English lit with her, and she doesn't seem like your type,"

Had I not been desperate to hear Roman's answer, I would've grabbed the nearby lamp and bashed her head in-- alcohol didn't seem to have the best effect on my thoughts tonight. Still, Roman didn't react much, now patting down his pockets for his lighter. "Yeah, I'm seeing her. She's my girl,"

She's my girl. It echoed in my head over and over. My girl.

However, Jessica didn't seem too pleased with this revelation. She rolled her eyes, letting go of her hair; "She's not even a cheerleader," 

"And? I'm tired of you lot," 

"Romie, come on!" The nickname nearly made me puke in my mouth, effectively wiping my smile off my face. I watched as Jessica proceeded to reach out and put a hand on his arm, pursing her lips like a dumb fucking bimbo-- "I don't think a girl like that could handle you... sexually."

Ew! I wanted to slam my head against the door. Would that relieve the pain of hearing this conversation?

But Jessica continued; "Everyone knows she's been crazy about you for some time now. Everyone except Letha knew, actually, but that girl is more gullible than a lamb! But you must be aware that your girlfriend thinks you walk on water? You're dating the epitome of your fucking stalker. But does that turn you on, maybe?"

Roman blinked twice before brushing Jessica's hand off with a silent scoff (finally). He found his lighter in his back pocket, lighting his cigarette as he rolled his eyes. "Shut your filthy whore mouth," he grumbled, cig sitting between his lips. When he was done lighting it, he held the lighter out dangerously close to Jessica's face-- "I'll burn your disgusting extensions right off."

She didn't seem too phased by it on the outside, but I could see the slight tremble in her hands as she now gripped the counter. Was this how Roman talked to other girls? How had I not noticed this before? "No need," Jessica said, gulping. "I can see you're taking her... seriously." She cleared her throat, letting out a shaky breath as Roman moved away. Jessica didn't have much time with her usual clean air before he blew the smoke from his cigarette in her face, and she quickly fell into a coughing fit.

I realized what I was watching when Roman smiled with evil glee at the sight of her pain. The version of Roman he used to be. It felt like I had opened a portal back to two months ago, before anything between us had happened and he was running around stabbing people with needles to get a rush.

"Of course I'm taking her seriously," Roman said, letting the cigarette rest between his lips. "I actually like her this time, unlike anything I've ever felt for you. She's sweet, and you're like... maggots crawling out from the depths of hell compared to her."

... Ouf. 

Jessica didn't seem to be taking this very well. Her blue eyes hardened, traces of tears welling up in her eyes as her grip on the counter tightened to the point where her knuckles started to whiten-- "You're lovely tonight, as always," she mumbled, hurt. Her voice grew bitter; "But where is your girl, then? Did you leave her at home to come here alone? 

Roman exhaled the smoke through his nose with one quick breath, turning to his friends when they called his name. He was thrown the beer-pong ball, and he effectively ignored Jessica's questions to play his turn in the game.

His lack of answers seemed to give her hope that he might stray. Jessica sat forward on the counter, drying any traces of welled-up tears as she lit up. "Oh, Romie," she purred-- I nearly threw up in my mouth again. "It's nice to see you don't change."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Roman turned to her, brows drawn together. 

Jessica sighed, once again reaching out to rest her hand on his bicep. The worst part was when she gave it a little squeeze and her eyes locked on him-- fuck. "One girl will never be enough for you. You're aware of that, right?" She moved further to the edge of the counter (could she not fall off already?), batting her lashes; "If you're here tonight because you're not satisfied, I know a few ways to... satisfy you."

That was it. This was sickening. Had I not been so nervous to hear Roman's response, I would've lunged forward and slammed her empty head down to the floor. However, I could only press my body against the wall I was hiding behind, listening to the dampening of my breath as my heart thumped harshly against my ribs-- this was torture. This was complete and utter torture. 

I'm waiting for you unbearably.

Unbearably. 

This was unbearable.

It felt as though my chest was caving in on itself, threatening to make me a ball of nothing again, until Roman finally moved; gripping Jessica's hand with two fingers, he removed her off of him as though he was disgusted to even be touching her. "Are you maybe a little hard of hearing? Perhaps you hit your head really hard when you were younger, I have no idea, but I'll make it nice and comprehensible for you, okay?" He exhaled another cloud of smoke, fogging up Jessica's face as he leaned in dangerously close, lowering his voice as he spoke; "I don't want you or your cheerleaders, and I never will again. Never."

I was two seconds away from fainting out of sheer happiness-- my cheeks reddened. This was everything I had ever hoped to hear from him, and my anxieties floated out of my body with my next sigh of relief. I was ready to step into the kitchen and save Roman from this situation, hoping he'd be happy to see me now that he'd had this conversation about his feelings for me, but my plans were abruptly stopped when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

My anxiety zapped itself right back into me as I froze to my spot, waiting for the wall to swallow me whole, never to be seen again. No, no, no!

I could only watch as Daniel approached me, giddy as ever with a beer in his hand. Were the Gods above playing tricks on me, perhaps? It was clear that he was drunk, and he tried to get his blonde hair out of his eyes repeatedly as he now stood before me, a broad grin on his face. "Well, don't you look nice," 

Why was he speaking so loudly? I was afraid Roman would hear and come out to check if his suspicions were correct. "Thanks," I mumbled, anxiously wavering back and forth on my feet as I pondered whether to flee or not. "Look, Daniel, you shouldn't--"

"What, talk to you?" He leaned down a little, his mood immediately shifting as he said my name once more like venom. It was clear in his eyes that he had come up to me with an argument in mind. "Don't tell me the rumours are true and you're actually with that guy?" 

Oh, how little I wanted to have this conversation. I so desperately didn't want to. Not with Roman at hearing distance. "Yeah, I am,"

Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes as he pulled back with a pretentious chuckle. With the way he was swaying, I could see that he'd had at least five beers or so. It explained the disgusting ramble of words that ensued; "Shit... Didn't think you were brainless like that. You're just a dumb fucking slut just like the rest of them, aren't you? Can't believe I ever thought you were different... Nice guys truly finish last, don't they?" 

Nice? I grimaced. Did this guy genuinely think he was nice? I was shocked to realize I even thought so of him at one point. My lips parted in shock; I hadn't heard him talk like this before. This was nauseating. Still, I knew I had to snap back-- I was about to speak up, protect myself unlike how I had handled myself during the whole Letha-mess, but I didn't get a chance to. 

I didn't even have to look to know who was now standing in the door to the kitchen, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Roman's eyes narrowed, locking in on Daniel's with a chilling look; "What did you just say to her?" he said, voice low, dangerous.

Daniel's smirk was immediately wiped off his face. "Fuck-- Fuck off, Godfrey. This is none of your business," 

"None of my business?" Roman echoed, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. "Nah, that's not how this is gonna go down." He stepped away from the door, nearing Daniel with threatening steps. "You get a little drunk, and suddenly forget you fucking crumble at the sight of me? You're shaking, Goldman, but you have balls enough to insult my girl?" 

Now that Roman had pointed it out, I immediately saw it. Daniel's hand had a slight tremble as he clutched the can of beer harder with his next words; "You know she could do so much better than you, right?"

I held my breath, watching Roman's every movement. At this point, I was scared Daniel had hit too big of a homerun on that insult. 

I wondered when Roman would-- oh, there it was. With one last step forward, he managed to yank Daniel forward with a choking grip around the collar of his shirt. I felt my breath escape me with a gasp, unsure whether to intervene or not. "Roman, don't!--"

It was too late. Roman wasn't hearing me. Selective hearing. "If you wanna go, Goldman, then we're gonna go!" he raged, tightening his grip as he yanked Daniel forward like a ragdoll. "Don't be a fucking pussy, fight me if you're so keen on walking around with a black eye!"

I was both mortified and scared as I watched Daniel's face turn a peculiar shade of purple. I had never seen such a prominent look of fear in my life. His hands were clawing at Roman's as he sputtered incoherent squeaks, and after five seconds too long, Daniel was let out of the death grip. It took even less time for him to sprint out of our sight. 

Roman turned to me, brows still drawn together in fury. He was catching his breath, and he was not yet out of fight mode when he practically barked at me; "And since when have you been at this stupid party?!" 

"Ask Peter!" I squeaked. "It was his plan, all of it! He wanted us to talk!" Watching the confusion spread in Roman's green eyes, I cleared my throat before I continued; "Actually, I want us to talk as well... Could we please just?--"

Within a split second, he was gone. Gone. I stood by the wall, lips parting in complete and utter confusion-- how had he managed to disappear like that? Run off like that? Suddenly, my mind shot in a passage from The Avoidable Vampirism;

The classic traits of a upir:

Enhanced strength

Heightened senses

Mesmerization

Unnatural speed

-- No, stop it! I had to physically smack my head to snap out of it this time. Roman wasn't a fucking upir, he was just in withdrawal as Peter said! 

... Right?

The alcohol was certainly not helping my state right now.

As I stood glued to the wall like the biggest wallflower known to man, I pondered the question that had haunted me all day; why was Roman so scared to talk to me? After I had heard how he spoke of me to Jessica, and how he had just called me his girl to Daniel along with the whole fight for my honour, it surely couldn't be a question of his feelings towards me?

This seemed to be an evening of many flashbacks; Letha's words were suddenly ringing in my ears-- "It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces,"

... Fine. Let's start.

What had set him off? It was clearly that I didn't want to sleep with him last night, right?

Okay-- Now I had to rip it apart and look through the pieces.

"Aren't you breaking up with me?" he'd asked earlier today. Roman seemed genuinely confused that I wasn't there to dump him. Had he really expected me to discard of him so quickly over a simple miscommunication? 

Then it hit me that Roman might be crazy enough to have avoided me all along because he thought the next conversation would be the one where I'd finish the job. 

With a loud groan, I started my search around the party. Idiot! I was going to find this man no matter what. If I had to pin him down and scream some sense into him, so be it.

He wasn't downstairs— I could exclude that after a quick swipe of the floor. I somehow managed to make my way through the dense crowd on the stairs, now checking every room. To be honest, I was terrified of walking in on something I didn't want to see, but a tiny part of me thought it might even be good for me to see just a snippet-- I didn't know much about real sex, anyway. Still, I let out a relieved sigh when I scoured all the rooms without having violated my vision. 

But my relief didn't last long. I allowed my shoulders to slump as I came to a halt, realizing I had circled the upper floor with no trace of him. The deafening music was starting to hurt my ears, and I was about to cover them when I suddenly heard a loud bang coming from the closet to my right followed by a breathy, angry shit. 

Oh my. Gotcha. I approached the door with careful steps, holding back a beaming smile as I knocked twice; "Roman...?"

I heard him shuffling around, a short groan following; "... Nope," 

It took a lot of concentration to not burst out into a fit of laughter. It felt as though all my anger left my body, unable to concentrate on anything other than how ridiculously cute he was when he was drunk like this. "Can I come in?"

"... That's what he said,"

"Come in? I think you might've gotten it a little twisted,"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes; "Who are you to argue, virgin?"

Enough was enough. With a small creak, I opened the door to the closet--

Oh.

This was certainly not the sight I expected to see. Roman's green eyes immediately found mine, big with embarrassment. There he was, splayed out on the floor of the tiny closet with a hot pink crop top on his head. I assumed it had landed on him after he fell over, and I tried to take a mental image for later amusement. 

I was about to laugh-- However, as I closed the door behind me and stared down at Roman's flushed face, almost the same colour as the ridiculous pink crop top, I just melted. Easy as that. All the pent-up anger, all the frustration I wanted to take out on him, it all liquified into molten lava and became one with the earth.

What a mess he was. What an absolute, utter mess. Roman's green eyes were big, huge even, as he stared up at me, his breath coming out in small, ragged heaves. He looked terrified of my next words, like he was bracing for a good verbal beating--

I crouched down, making space between his long legs that practically took up the whole closet. With careful movements, I pulled the crop top off his head and cupped his pretty face; "Rome," I cooed. "You thought I was going to break up with you?"

It felt like I was talking to a child. I was aware I risked Roman exploding on me for taking that tone with him, but I figured he was too drunk to really sense it. "Yeah," he breathed, keening against my touch. "Makes sense that you'd want to."

Fuck, he was unbearably cute, like a lost little puppy. "No, it doesn't," I murmured. Why was it so hard for him to understand? "I'm not breaking up with you. Is that why you've been avoiding me today? Were you worried I was going to do that?"

Almost like a child, Roman nodded. "I just... don't want to lose you. But I fucked up again," he whispered, practically pouting. "I was so mean. Last night and today."

I stroked my thumb over his cheek, watching his response to my attempts at comfort. Something told me he hadn't been held like this before. "Roman... You're not losing me any time soon, and you were obviously a little hurt too. I guess it's a... vulnerable thing to initiate. You're allowed to feel what you feel,"

"But it was wrong,"

"What was?"

"My feelings," he mumbled. "It's just-- I'm not used to caring about a girl like this. Previously, if I didn't get my way, I could leave with no repercussions. But this time, it hit me about ten minutes later on the highway that this was you and not some random girl. You. And I was just so consumed with the urge to... ugh, I don't want to say it out loud, but you know. It gets unbearable at times. I haven't wanted anyone like this before, I just don't know how the fuck to behave!"

I was sure my cheeks were burning. Holy fuck. "Ah... I see," My knees got tired from crouching, so I sat down on the little free space left on the floor. "Look, your feelings aren't wrong. They never are. Your feelings are your feelings. But what I don't get is that I told you I wasn't up for... sex simply because my parents were on the other side of the wall. I would totally be up for it if they weren't. Did you not register that, maybe?"

"I don't know, but... it's not really about the sex. I guess it got me wondering whether you're just a little shy, or if you secretly don't want to be with me anymore," Roman took my hands into his before his gaze shied away. His voice lowered into a barely audible whisper as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the nearby wall; "You didn't once say you wanted me too. I guess I just concluded you didn't want me at all."

I fought the instinct to freeze. I saw his point, recognized his anxiety (and severe attachment issues), yet I needed to point out one very simple truth;  "But... I'm crazy about you. You know I want you,"

"No, I don't," he breathed. "You make me feel like a fucking rapist."

"A... What?!" I gave his hands a harsh squeeze-- "Roman, what are even you saying?"

He scoffed, eyeing me with his head still leaning against the wall. Hiccuping from all the alcohol, he spoke; "I'm always on you like a fucking dog in heat. You never initiate, and I'm constantly worrying whether I'm taking advantage or not. And to make that clear, that's not what I want to do,"

All of this was beyond shocking to hear. Was this maybe also the supposed withdrawal speaking? "Rome, you're not taking advantage. Not at all! I'm just... shy, I guess?" I brought one of his hands up to my mouth, pressing my lips against his knuckles. "I never thought you needed to hear me say it too. I'm sorry."

Surprisingly, Roman pouted-- "Say it, then," he whined. Had he been standing, I was sure he'd stomp his foot like a toddler.

I couldn't help but smile. I liked whiny-drunk Roman. "Say what, Rome?"

"Spit it out,"

"Would you stop running away from me then?"

"... Yes,"

I took a deep breath, suppressing a nervous giggle. Roman's green eyes drilled into me, holding me still as I tried to find the courage to say it to his face. It was nearly impossible, and I felt my cheeks flush a rather peculiar shade of pink, similar to Roman's alcohol-flush. And also the hot pink crop top. I was definitely stealing that one.

I let go of Roman's hands, crawling over to straddle his lap. My arms draped around his neck, and he shifted as he looked up at me with those gorgeous, green eyes of his. My Roman. "You already know I'm crazy about you,"

"Yeah, you tree-carving freak," 

"Hey!" Now, it was impossible not to laugh. Thankfully, he laughed with me. "But sure, I'll take it. I carved our initials into a tree, and I'd do it all over again. And you know why?"

Roman's eyes practically sparkled; "Why?"

I lowered my face to hover right above his, feeling his hot breath against my parted lips. "Because I crave you. Carnally," I whispered, watching his pupils rapidly widen. "What am I if not yours? Yours to take, yours to claim, yours to... fuck."

Roman's signature smirk was back, shinier than ever. "Now, now, don't be shy with it," he purred, his arms snaking around my waist to pull me flush against him. "Say more."

Fucking hell. There was certainly no space to hold back any longer. "Yeah, you want more?" I had to bite back a smirk of my own. "Don't be a fucking brat, then. Kiss me if you do."

Roman's eyes widened, not expecting me to say anything remotely close to that. Still, his lips parted as his smirk morphed into a blinding grin. With one smooth move, he ran one hand up into my hair, pulling me in for the shortest, sweetest kiss known to man. "I'm impatient," he said. "Go on."

"Brat," It felt nice to finally say that out loud. From the first time I had a proper conversation with him, that word had been stuck in my mind. 

Roman rolled his eyes, letting me laugh into the needy kiss that followed. It didn't take long before I melted, relishing in the soft pillows of his lips against mine, the feeling I had longed for ever since he stormed off my roof last night. "I want you," I said, mouthing my words into the kiss. "So bad. So, so bad."

Roman moaned-- "More,"

My hands went up into his hair, fingers reaching for the tips of his dark locks to press him further against me as the kiss deepened. I had never felt this desperate before in my life. Still, I somehow found the strength to pull away; I got an idea. "No. We're playing a little game first,"

Roman groaned, glaring at me as he rested his head against the wall. "For fuck's sake," he mumbled. "Now?"

"Now," I placed my hands on his chest, unable to hold my laugh. My little idea was genius. "Have you noticed where we are?"

"... At a party?"

"Where?"

"In a closet?--" Roman's words came to a halt as his eyes widened, and a knowing grin spread across his plush lips. "Oh my."

I hummed, pressing my fingers into his chest. Right now, I was sure I had adopted the classic Roman-smirk; "Up for a round of seven minutes in heaven?"

"... Isn't it a little blasphemous to play without the bottle?" Roman proceeded to laugh, rubbing circles into my thighs. "Actually, fuck yeah. I’m up for it.”

"Seven minutes," I purred, grabbing my phone and putting on a timer. "You once said that seven minutes with you were enough to show everything I needed to know about being with you in that way..." 

To be honest, I had no idea what had come over me. Was it perhaps the alcohol? But the intrigue shimmering in Roman's keen eyes told me all I needed to know-- I watched his pupils expand as the hands I had rested against his chest started traveling down his body. And Jessica thought I couldn't handle him sexually? Hah! "It seems it's my turn to show how it would be with me, no?" 

Roman's lips parted, staring up at me in disbelief; "If you're just teasing me now, I'm going to die on the spot. I swear. My death will be on your hands,"

I could only laugh, biting down on my lip to lower my voice. "Don't you dare," I said, slowly reaching for the clasp of his belt. 

Watching the widening of Roman's big, green eyes never failed to amuse me, especially not now. "Baby," he breathed, his lips curving into a smile. "Don't fuck with me, I swear--"

"Am not," After unbuckling Roman's belt, I decided to tease him by trailing my hands away from the zip of his pants, my fingers ghosting over his hard-on. It seemed the excitement was getting to him already, and to my surprise, I could feel him hardening beneath my palms. 

The loud music was so far away now, just as everything else was-- My mind was even further away, possibly residing on the planet Neptune, because how the hell had I managed to convince myself I knew how to do this? 

Fuck it-- it can't be that hard, right?

Certainly not harder than Roman was now, anyway. 

This was an enigma to me, all of it. I could only go off instinct; and just as I was about to slide my hand beneath the band of his boxers, Roman grabbed my hand. "Hold on," he breathed, bringing my palm to his lips. "Step one is to never go anywhere dry." His green eyes locked on mine, not breaking eye contact as he placed several wet kisses against my palm, slicking it. Shivers ran down my spine as I felt his tongue swipe along my skin, because fuck, this was intense-- my breath hitched. Roman's soft laugh rang in my ears as he let go of my hand, giving back the control. 

Fuck. My heart was pounding. Were my hands shaking? I had no idea-- it felt as though I had blacked out for a few seconds, and when Roman pulled me into a heated kiss and brought me back to my senses, my fingers were gently brushing against the hard tip of his cock. 

I could feel Roman's breath hitch just slightly against my lips, and it immediately made my cheeks burn. What the fuck was I doing? I so desperately hoped no one would walk in on us like this, me straddling him with his dick in my hand. That would certainly only taint my reputation further-- no, actually, fuck that. I wanted to stay connected like this forever, Roman's soft lips moving against mine with a need I didn't remember in him. 

It took a lot of willpower to break the kiss even just for a second, but it was too damn fucking dark in this stupid closet. I watched as Roman's lashes fluttered, how his chest raised in heaving motions, how the vial of my blood rested against the peak of his sternum-- I decided to go for the wish to kiss him right there. 

Roman's skin was so unbelievably soft. There was no flavour to it as I swiped my tongue against his collarbone, not even a trace of alcohol from his perfume, and this was the moment it dawned on me that this might be my favourite place to kiss him. I didn't often have access, but when I did, I could feel the soft raise of his shoulders with his every breath-- and fuck, how I loved his shoulders. I finally wrapped my fingers around his length, deciding not to toy with him any longer. 

He let out a shaky breath just as I sucked down on his collarbone to leave a mark; Roman was long gone now. His head lolled to the side, his breath escaping him with a short huff. "Fuck," he whispered, bringing his hand up to twist into the nape of my neck, pulling me away from him to press the soft pillows of his mouth against mine in another hot, needy kiss.

This was certainly a big difference to the last time we had played this game. We had barely kissed properly, and our lips had only grazed each other compared to whatever this was. I couldn't believe how unbelievably scared I had been the first time.

I smiled into the kiss, remembering our first. 

Roman cursed against my lips, his hips bucking just slightly into my grip around his cock. With his free hand, he placed his on top of mine, guiding me to pick up my pace.

I realized my heart was almost thumping to the exact same pace as the music downstairs-- "Is this okay?" I whispered, relishing in the short breaths of pleasure spilling from his mouth.

Roman shot me a look, although it didn't look as intimidating as he probably intended; with his lids halfway closed, the hunger for me shone through. "You know damn well,"

It was impossible not to smile. God, I was so crazy about this man. "Rome?"

A hum.

I leaned in closer, pressing a sweet kiss against his ear; "I want you so bad," I whispered, feeling his breath hitch as I kissed down his jaw. "I need you to know that. Rome, I always want you." Never in a million years did I think I'd ever see him like this, panting beneath me, pre-cum spilling from the slit of his cock. Never in my wildest dreams. But he had driven me near mad with his stupidity these past twenty-four hours, so I had no problem bringing him down to the depths of vulnerability with me-- finally, we had switched places.

Roman's hands traveled up my thighs, giving my ass a proper squeeze as he groaned just slightly; "Want you too," he breathed, letting his head rest against the wall as I worked my digits around his length. His lips parted, his eyes shut as his lashes fluttered just slightly; "Always. Always want— hah, want you. You know me."

Had I not been so taken with the sheer beauty of him right now, I would've swooned. I was shocked I hadn't fainted from how hard my heart was beating, anyway. "I adore you, Rome. Do you know that?"

A small yeah was Roman's only reply, his head rolling back and forth, thighs clenching, cock twitching. He was close. His next words were rushed, quick; "Fuck, where do I...? Fuck--" 

"Don't think about it," I murmured, my free hand running gently through his hair. Slowly, I reached for the pink crop top nearby; this was my only solution at the moment. "Just enjoy."

Roman practically whimpered; "Shit, shit, gonna--"

I watched as he threw his head back, panting hard as he spilled into the top. I felt his warm cum running down the inside of it as I stroked him through his high. "Fuck, fuck--" Roman was rambling at this point, failing to steady his breath through it.

My lips parted, feeling as though I had bitten into the forbidden fruit. The image before me gave me a high, unlike anything I had ever had before. It was probably similar to the feeling Roman used to achieve through cocaine use. I took another quick mental snapshot, knowing this was a sight I wanted to keep for later-- only in case of emergencies, of course. I couldn't help but feel a little proud that I had figured out how to do this stuff to him.

Roman blinked twice, his mind slowly returning to his body. He laughed a little at the sight of the hot pink crop top, shaking his head. "Damn," he breathed. "I'm a little horrified I didn't last seven minutes."

Oh, silly boy-- "Nah, I'm glad you didn't. My hand would be cramping up," I leaned forward with a soft giggle, kissing the tip of Roman's nose as he let out a sigh of relief. "And I also proved my damn point."

He blinked up at me as I pulled away. "Which was...?"

The timer rung-- "Seven minutes are more than enough," 

"Right. That's my line," Roman tucked himself back into his jeans with a huff, laughing softly in a state of denial. "Definitely didn't expect this tonight... Good job." The corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards as he placed a sweet kiss against my cheek. "I'm just so damn glad we're not breaking up."

I had forgotten about that situation for a few minutes, and being reminded of it again was like being slapped out of a nap. "Of course we're not, Roman," I kissed the tip of his nose as I rolled up the crop top-- that felt wrong on all accounts. "If you get all manic about something like that again, please don't shut me out. I nearly went mad."

Roman's pupils dilated further as he reached for the vial of my blood around his neck, twirling it around his finger. "Yeah, we can't break up... Or else that poor tree would've been vandalized for nothing,"

I rolled my eyes. He was never going to let that go, was he? "Alright, that's enough," I mumbled, watching as Roman brought the vial to his lips to press a short kiss against my blood-- it felt odd but intimate. Was he maybe still a little drunk? "Let's get you home, okay? I'll drive your car." With shaky steps, I got up from his lap, bunching up the crop top in one hand. 

Roman hiccuped-- drunk. It was confirmed. "I don't want to," he whined. 

"Come on, Rome, we can't stay in this cramped up fucking closet all night!--"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me downstairs?"

For fuck's sake. It was impossible not to laugh at that mental image. "We can't stay here any longer! Peter's gonna think we're fucking somewhere, and I certainly don't want to be known as the girl that has sex at parties!--"

"My mom is out of town," Roman said, effectively cutting me off. "Sleep over."

My eyes widened. I knew what that meant. Clutching the damp crop top in my hand, I felt the green of his gaze swallow me whole; "Come on. It'll be fun," Roman got up from the floor, tilting his head a little as he slowly inched forward, making my back hit the wall with the two only steps there were possible to take in this closet. He continued; "Nothing has to happen, but I just... I want to roll around in bed with you in the morning. No interruptions, no parents, nothing. Just us."

I was shocked I didn't become a puddle of mush on the floor. "Just us?"

"Just us," Roman breathed, leaning down to press a short kiss against my lips. But what came next was unexpected; "... And my pet tarantula."

"What?!"

Roman only laughed, his pupils widening with pleasure at the sight of my terror. Some things never change. "Just kidding, baby," he purred, placing a hand on the small of my back as he opened the closet door. And before I had the chance to properly step out of it, he leaned down to whisper against my ear; "It's actually a giant centipede. Lovely pet."

I nearly squirmed out of his grip, shivering. "Please tell me you're joking!" 

Seriously, when will I ever learn? Roman continued to laugh, waving to a few people who passed us by in the corridor as we walked down the hall. "Of course I am,"

"I'm not leaving with you if you have some creepy animal there, I swear!"

"Fine, fine!" He kissed the top of my head, and I felt him smile against my hair. "There are no scary animals there... Just me."

Before I had the opportunity to answer, Roman groaned loudly as he glanced at the crowded stairs when we approached, rolling his eyes. "Ugh, why do people always crowd the goddamn stairs?" He turned back to me; "I just need to find Peter and swipe my keys--"

"Why does he have your keys?"

"... I was threatening to jam them into the side of this guy's head earlier, but that's not important," Roman shot me a charming smile as though he hadn't just said that. "But just hold onto me, okay? I'll wade us through." 

So that's what I did; I clutched onto Roman's hand, feeling his long fingers wrapping around mine as he made way through the crowd, occasionally turning to greet a few people he knew. I was so damn ready to get to his place, to lie down on a bed, and get away from this loud music. Still, a part of me knew we wouldn't be able to stay away from each other tonight, and I felt my chest swell with warmth at the thought of what might happen. What would happen.

But just as I was finally relaxed again and the two of us almost made it down the stairs, I felt another hand on my shoulder the same second Roman turned away to say hi to a friend of his. I turned, gasping just slightly at the shock of a cold touch, and the rest of my breath followed as it dawned on me who I was facing. 

Letha's green eyes were wide, almost as though she had seen a ghost. For a second there, I thought she could read my mind and understand why I was clutching onto a damp crop top. It was still warm-- why was I finding that hot right now? God, I was going insane. But I knew that the sight of Roman and I together would never be a pleasant one for Letha, so I stared back at her with the same bewilderment-- why had she stopped me? 

Letha's following words were almost icy to the touch, hollow to the ear; "Was I right?" 

It felt as though my world stilled. Time stilled. Just for a second, I felt as though I could wade my free hand through the coldness of her phrase, and I could wave away the mirage. She was concerned, curious. Had she genuinely wanted to help me get through this fight with Roman? 

I realized that tonight might be a night of many firsts. My first handjob, my first... time (possibly), and my first step of forgiveness. "Yeah," I breathed. "You were. Thank you." 

Letha's face softened as a relieved sigh escaped her, nodding her head slowly. It had been a long time since the last time she had heard those words from me. "Any time," 

Had Roman not squeezed my hand, I was sure I'd continue standing there, just staring into the eyes of my previous best friend. They looked so, so similar-- Had Letha not been blonde, I would've mistaken them for siblings. Snapping out of it, I turned to my boyfriend who was too busy scowling at his cousin to notice how calm I was about meeting her. "Let's go," he mumbled, repressed jealousy dripping from his voice as another squeeze of my fingers ensued. 

"Yeah... Let's,"

(a/n: thank you so so much for reading!!! here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, if you're interested<333 mwah!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@moochiester @zizuras @blackbluerose666 @rosecoloureddudez

[megistusdiary]

one of my arlecchino hcs that has been living in my mind rent free recently is arle with a prince albert (dick piercing).

honestly just imagine how fucking hot it would be when she penetrates you and the piercing constantly pushes against your cervix. or when you suck her off and your tongue touches the piercing. it makes sex with arlecchino all the more pleasurable for the both of you

- 🪦 leon

okay, so i know i already answered the other ask, but i'm gonna do it again in a fic this time 🤭

but also consider arle with other piercings 😁

arlecchino w/ a dick piercing

dom!transfem arle x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, transfem!arle, dick/tongue piercings, throatfucking, cunnilingus, penetration, dacryphilia, stomach bulge/ size kink, creampie

she looks down at you from where she sits on her armchair, chin leaning on one of her palms. her thighs are spread, pants already unbuttoned, courtesy of you.

you kneel before her, looking up at her so sweetly, intently focused on the piercing at the tip of her dick. "why are you just staring?" her words snap you out of your trance. "go on." she takes herself by the base, lightly tapping the head on your lips. "open."

it's a one word command, and you follow it like the good girl you are for her. she slides the pierced tip across your tongue, letting you feel the metal as she purposefully teases both herself and you.

you lick at her, causing her to shudder and ease herself down your throat. she laughs dryly at your little choking noises, shushing you and putting her hand at the back of your head. she gently eases you down until your nose touches the soft gray patch of hair on her pelvis.

she watches your hands come up to grip her thighs uselessly, searching for something to hold to stick to reality. she gently pets your head, looking up at the ceiling as your throat constricts around her.

"good fucking girl." she grunts, shallowly fucking your throat while you tear up, trying not to gag. she reaches so deep, too deep, and she loves the way you claw at her pants uselessly.

little tears threaten to spill over and she looks down at you, her hair falling messily into her eyes. "you know i love it when you cry, don't you?" she sighs and you lean into her when her hand comes to wipe away the impending tears.

she moves your head for you, using your throat like her own personal toy, her soft groans increasing in volume the closer she gets.

but before she can cum, she pulls out of your throat, watching you cough, leaning your head onto her thigh as she gently rubs your back.

she fists her swollen cock tightly, not wanting to cum yet. "such a good girl for me, come here." she lifts your chin, tugging you up into her lap.

"trade places with me, okay, sweet girl?" she asks and you nod, taking her spot in her chair while she kneels before you.

she's still wearing her suit, but the way you're entirely exposed has her hardening even more in her own hand. you look so precious in her chair, too cute for your own good.

she spreads your thighs, smirking at the wetness dripping from your cunt as she collects it on her fingers, bringing it to her lips.

you whine, turning away from her shyly. "that's embarrassing." you complain and she laughs, sucking your slick off her fingers. she lets you get a good look at the piercing on her tongue, glinting in the light before her mouth closes again.

"nothing to be embarrassed about." she denies, yanking you closer so that you're half-laying on her chair. her tongue laps over your clit, causing your hips to jerk suddenly when you feel her piercing on your sensitive nerves.

"sorry-"

"don't be sorry. i like it when you're desperate, you're so shameless, go on, use me, sweet girl." she grins almost wickedly, feeling you lightly grind your hips on her tongue.

eventually, she gets tired of your lazy pace, gripping your hips and dragging you over her tongue faster, applying more pressure and running her tongue over the entirety of your cunt.

she lets you feel the piercing running through your folds, a strange but pleasurable sensation, no doubt.

she hears you squeal, gripping onto her chair so tightly, she worries you might rip holes into it. your head slams back into the chair with a soft thud when you cum on her tongue, mind hazy as you ride out your orgasm.

she leans up, kissing you with her lips still coated in your release, moaning at how readily you open your lips for her. such a good little slut, aren't you?

she picks you up, pulling you instead into her lap on the chair, admiring your body on hers. she lifts you up onto your knees, sliding your still sensitive pussy over the pierced tip of her cock.

"mmm can't-" you try to protest and she sighs.

"you can, and you will." she asserts, teasingly pushing the tip against you, feeling you already clenching around her. "relax, sweet girl." she sighs, easing herself into you as you squirm around on her lap.

your hands desperately clutch at her shoulders, creasing the fabric of her neatly pressed suit. once you're settled into her lap, she keeps you there for a moment.

she lets you fully adjust to the feeling of her inside of you, her hand pressing against the bulge in your lower stomach and she lets out a shaky breath when your pussy flutters around her.

she grunts, leaning her head back when you experimentally grind against her abdomen, your clit rubbing deliciously against the patch of hair where you two are connected. she grabs at your hips, slowly easing you up and down.

you whimper for her, squirming around and clenching down on her, only making her speed up her thrusts.

soon enough, she's slamming you up and down her dick, letting you feel the piercing rub up into your g-spot. you're such a noisy little thing, though, whining and crying for her with each thrust.

she feels you cum around her once again, tightening around her and her hips still as she wills herself not to cum inside of you yet. she curses under her breath when you lean on her chest, head on her shoulder as you nuzzle into her neck.

you stay pliant for her, letting her bounce you on her lap until she cums. she would've pulled out, but you're just so cute, and the soft little moans you make when she fills you up are to die for. how could she deny herself that?

once you're both finished, she lets you lay limply against her, soothingly petting a hand down your spine and getting right back to work, letting you stay filled and plugged up on her lap.