#THERE WAS NO REASON FOR HIM TO SIT LIKE THAT

[writersdrug]

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Thinking about reader finally stumbling onto one of the dogs shifted into their human form. Maybe Soap raiding the cabinets in the kitchen for a late night snack? Reader obviously freaks tf out about a whole ass man in their house... but the rest of the force are still in their dog forms. Reader's confused why their once very protective dogs are completely okay with this strange man in their house, and why this man is claiming to be one of her dogs.

(Note that these answers are non-linear! I’ll be having fun with a few more asks/requests as if this hasn’t happened yet 😉)

All you wanted was some water to ease the dryness in your throat, but as soon as they noticed you picking up your phone from the bedside table, the dogs kept tugging at your clothes to hold you back—something they never did. You swatted them away without thinking much of it, though, too sleep-adled to think that maybe, just maybe, they were doing it for good reason.

And then you saw the man in your kitchen.

“Why are you naked.”

It wasn’t much of a question. More of a statement—or an exaggeration, really—because he wasn’t naked. He was just wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips, exposing a deep V-line and a happy trail that would’ve had you drooling if not for the sheer strangeness of the circumstances. At first, you weren’t even sure if you should be afraid—because it was comedic, the way he locked eyes with you, halfway through chomping down on a spoonful of cereal from not even a bowl, but a mug.

He swallows hard, and that’s when you grab a knife—earning several barks from your dogs. At you. Not him.

“He’s literally the intruder here!” you argue back. “You bark at, like, every other guy? What about him?! He’s massive!”

“Aw, thank y—“

“That wasn’t a compliment!”

The man’s smile tightens as he slowly puts the mug and spoon down, and lifts his hands as if in surrender. 

“Easy, lass,” he continues, eyes darting between your face and the knife. “I’m a friend.”

“The fuck you are—“

“Look. Look.” He gestures back and forth between himself and the dogs, who stand in place between you two. “You’re missin’ a pup, aren’t ya? Foxhound that gets into everything? Soap? Thah’s me!”

‘Me?’ What the hell was this guy thinking? But sure enough—just as he said—Soap was missing from the group. It was just Price, Ghost, and Gaz—all tense like you. If not more so. Gaz offers a whine in negotiation, stepping forward to get you to back up a little further, away from the stranger. There’s a beg—no—an intelligent plea in the Labrador’s eyes that nearly makes you falter, unsure of reason or rhyme.

Unsure of yourself.

“That’s— that’s not possible,” you laugh nervously, reaching for the phone in your pocket. “Dogs don’t turn into people, or vice versa. Now get out of my house or I’m calling the poli—“

— “Wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

And now there’s a third fucking person. Standing in your kitchen. Right where Price used to be. And now the shock runs cold, adrenaline gone in place of confusion. And a quick skip through the stages of grief into acceptance.

“Well,” is all that gets out of your mouth. “Shit.”

The world spins, and everything goes black. You’re out like a light. All you see is ‘human-Price’ moving forward, then darkness, and the sensation of two arms catching you before you hit the floor.

The boys hang around until morning light after that, sitting in the living room in dead silence. At least until Gaz gives a final suggestion.

“… You think we can pass it off as a dream?”

_

Bonus Thoughts:

You do, in fact, wake up as if it were a dream. Because you’re back in bed per usual, and the house is in order, and the dogs are piled around you like nothing ever happened. You eye them all suspiciously, then slap yourself. Because what kind of weirdo imagines her pets as hot, tall, buff men? Pervert.

Meanwhile, the boys are just exchanging the quietest glances before you settle back in bed. Because for a good few seconds, they think they’ve been discovered.

Also Soap has suffered a collective *bap* from everyone because it’s what he deserves for threatening their free food supply.

[luveline]

hihihihi! 🥹💕 i want to let you know that i adore your hotch fics! and i wanted to ask if you’d be ok—but no pressure!!!— to write one with bombshell!reader waking up from anesthesia and forgetting hotch and her are already together and starts flirting with him the way bombshell!reader absolutely would lol? thank you!

thanks for requesting lovely! fem, 1k

You don’t remember waking up, but you’re sitting against a pillow with a yoghurt in your hand. You must’ve been on some sort of auto-pilot… Are you in a hospital gown?

You put your yoghurt down on the table that’s been wheeled over your lap and stare at the white-blue chequered gown creased between your thighs. Your head feels heavy. 

“You okay?” 

You drag your gaze to the source of the voice. 

Agent Hotchner sits in the chair next to your bed. He has one leg crossed over the other, but he notices your confusion and his nonchalance turns to concern. “You need help?” 

“With the yoghurt?” you ask. 

“Yeah, honey. I can help.” 

You roll that over in your mind. Stern Agent Hotchner just called you honey. 

You’ve been trying to convince him for a while that you’re someone worth being sweet to. Trying to sway him, because there are parts of him you can’t get out of your head when he’s not around. He has not yet been swayed. Honey is a hand held out you’re going to snatch. 

Hotch stands. He goes to pick up your yoghurt. 

“What, are you gonna spoon feed me?” you ask, a clumsy drawl to your voice.

“I was going to… but I don’t like your tone.” 

Is he flirting back? You must’ve hit your head. “Coward,” you murmur. Speaking of hitting your head, there’s a throbbing behind your eyes, and a dryness to your throat bordering on uncomfortable. The yoghurt was there for a reason, clearly, but you don’t have the energy in you to eat seductively. 

“My head hurts,” you say quietly. 

You close your eyes. 

“I know.” A hand touches your face. You stay very still, though your heart doesn’t. “You don’t feel too hot. Do you want a drink? I can get you anything.” 

“Your hand is so big…” 

“Not so much bigger than your own,” he says. 

“Prove it.” 

He says your name like he knows you well, which sets your racing heart off all over again. But, used to hiding from him, you open your eyes to watch him and wipe all surprise from your face. You raise your hand, and he raises his, and you press your fingers together. Your fingertips don’t reach his, his palm wider, warmer. You thread your fingers carefully into the gaps between his, your lips curling into a satisfied smile. 

Less satisfied when he closes his hand around yours. 

“You’re teasing me,” you say. 

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t you lay back properly?” 

“Super, super forward.” You lay back under the pressure of his hand, stricken by the feeling that he’s done something like that before. You rest your head against your elevated pillows and have to give up —you can’t hide how surprised you are at his open touching, his face so close to yours you can see every warm fleck in his dark eyes. 

“You look startled,” he murmurs. 

“I think you’ve been bodysnatched.” 

“I have?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “I can’t keep up. And I’m usually pretty great at that.” 

“At what?” 

“Flirting.” 

“Oh,” he says, taking your hand again, pulling it toward his mouth, “you think I’m flirting?” 

“Is there something wrong with me?” 

“Not beyond the usual. You’re more lucid than they suspected you’d be, actually.” He kisses your knuckles. 

“I’ve hit my head.” 

“No, honey, you were under anaesthesia. Everything’s fine.” 

“You’ve hit your head.” 

He breathes out a laugh. “I don’t remember any injuries, but I’d love to know why you think so.” 

“You’re kissing me.” 

He pauses, lowering your hand. “Yes?” he says cautiously. 

“Would you want to do it again?” 

Hotch puts your hand on your chest. He cups your cheek in one hand, takes your shoulder into the other, and leans down to see you eye to eye. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks. You can feel the love he has for you in each word. 

Weirdly, you can feel it in yourself, too. Like, more than a crush. More than wanting him to spin you around or play with your thigh under a desk. You really love him. 

“I think I forgot you,” you say softly. 

“Amnesia is a very common symptom of anaesthesia, don’t worry.” He pulls your face up to peck you, quick but not without a gentleness that has your hands thrumming with pins and needle. “I thought you were acting strange, but I put it down to discomfort. Sorry, I imagine it’s very disconcerting to feel you don’t know me.” 

He just kissed you. “No, I know you, I just… I think I love you, but you don’t usually want me back.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “I’ve always wanted you,” he says, his dulcet tenor another comfort entirely. “And I love you, whether you remember it or not. Should we try to finish your yoghurt?” 

“You really love me?” 

He turns your face to press a kiss into your eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” 

“I do–” You begin before thinking about it, and realise that you’re telling the truth. You remember that he loves you. Agent Hotchner loves you. He’s in your hospital room handling you like thin glass.  

“Well, is there much else to remember?” 

You practically smirk at him. “I can think of some things.” 

“Wow!” He leans down for another kiss. “You’re awful,” he murmurs, his smile soft on your lips. 

[kurooh]

when choso first learns about what facesitting really is, he brings it up after a make out session that’s left you both hot and heavy. he’s tugging on your hand, practically begging you to take a seat.

“i-i’m not sure,” you stutter, unsure. “what if you suffocate or something? i don’t wanna hurt you..”

the look he gives you is one of pure need and longing. “i don’t care, just sit baby. please.”

for good measure, choso gives you a little pout, breaking into giggles and a smile once you slip your panties and shorts off. your thighs tremble as you hover above his face, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of his breath against your sticky cunt.

“mmm, that’s no good,” he remarks, large hands rising to your hips and settling lightly. “i told you, sit down.” choso’s strong, yanking you down hard onto his face; you feel and hear his muffled moan when your pussy’s all over his whole face.

“choso!”

“so, so fucking good,” choso gasps against you, holding your squirming body in place as his tongue laps and laps at your sticky cunt.

beneath you, his body’s sweltering with heat, racing through every nerve like electricity while tight pressure builds in his cock. with a glance over your shoulder, you notice his hips rutting into the air as he searches for friction.

“cho,” you sob, so overwhelmed you actually feel tears building in your eyes, “i-i wanna suck you off, ‘s not fair—”

he easily lifts you and peers up at you from between your thighs, face flushed and shining with your slick. with a shaky finger, you nudge some of his hair away from his forehead.

“don’t want you to,” it’s painful to say, because he really does, but that’s simply a distraction for the both of you. “baby,” he murmurs gently, “i want you to focus on cumming for me, ‘s all, okay?”

you nod quietly, and the gesture is met with a mild slap to your ass. “okay, cho,” the moment the words leave your bitten lips, he’s pulling you back down and greedily drinking all of you in, taking whatever he can get.

choso’s ministrations encourage you to roll your hips against his face; a light bump of his nose to your clit has you crying out and grinding all over him. that’s right, he thinks, stars in his closed eyes. he wishes he could tell you to use him to get off, but he’d have to lift you up and he doesn’t want to even breathe.

unconsciously, he matches your pace, his hips rising into the air in synchrony with your own. one of your hands slips into his silky hair and tugs; he’s your anchor, keeping you somewhat steady although he’s the reason you can’t stop shaking.

“choso,” you wail loudly, angling your hips to let him take your clit between his lips and suck, “oh, i’m so close, ‘m gonna cum soon—”

from between your thighs, choso sees everything: the parting of your lips, the way your face crumbles in absolute pleasure, the brief moment of stillness as you fully fall over the edge.

it’s too much and not enough, but he cums too.

“c-cumming, choso,” is all you can muster, riding out your orgasm on his face and tongue while his hips buck wildly into the air.

the muffled moan you feel deep in your cunt makes you gasp, pulling away at the feeling of overstimulation, but he’s holding you tight. a look over your shoulder at the right moment, and you watch as his clothed cock explodes, gushing cum and soaking his boxers.

after all your squirming and pulling away, choso finally lets you go with crescent moon indents in your plush skin and a loud huff.

“i wasn’t done,” he heaves, skin smeared with your cum. it’s glossy and messy, but he won’t think about washing it off until you’ve cum at least three more times.

“but you came and everything, i—”

choso silences you by sealing his lips against yours, and you can briefly taste yourself— sweet, just like he’s always said.

“a few more times, please?”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Read II

England Lionesses x Child!Reader

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: There's a reason you don't have sugar

You hold reading lessons every day at camp because you want the rest of the England team to not be knuckleheads anymore and to prove Mikey from school wrong.

It's not easy to learn how to read so you know you need to come back to make sure everyone has been keeping up with their learning because that's what Mummy and Daddy do to you.

They started teaching you how to read very early so you were fairly advanced when you went to school.

You think Mikey's just jealous because you're a good reader and he's a bad one but, still, you want to make sure to prove him wrong.

Mary always says the best revenge is proving haters wrong. You don't know if Mikey's a hater but you'll assume he is because better safe than sorry.

You've done a good job at teaching everyone though because Maya, Millie T and Tooney all give you some sherbet sweets. They make your mouth go a little tingly when you try them but you like that feeling so the three of them keep feeding you more.

They're responsible for you while Mary's getting the last bit of treatment before you all get on the coach to go to the stadium. Usually, someone else is responsible for you but you did a quick reading lesson for Maya and Millie with Tooney as your assistant so they're supervising you before the journey.

You decide that you really like the sherbet straws they give you and Maya dares you to see how many you can finish before you have to go.

You don't count but it's definitely a lot.

Enough for you to feel super hyped when you're finally reunited with Mary. She's picked out a set of four seats with a table and she's already got your rucksack full of books open for you to pick from.

You're very advanced in your reading for such a young kid but even you struggle a little bit. Now that you've taught Mary to read, she can read very well from the books that are a bit too complicated for you right now so she's in charge of reading them to you as you drive to the pitch.

"Er..." You say as you look at the selection," That one."

"Alright," Mary says, cracking open the book and clearing her throat. She gets about halfway through before she notices how wiggly you're being. "Hey, rugrat, do you need the toilet?"

You frown. "No. Keep reading, Mary."

"Are you sure? I can take you."

"No, Mary. My book, please."

"Alright." Mary keeps reading but she's acutely aware of the way you keep wiggling in your seat.

You seem to think you're fine though. Or, at least, you don't think you need the toilet which is Mary's main worry.

"Okay," She says finally," Go and find someone to hang out with. I need to talk to Tooney."

You seem all too happy to scamper off, practically throwing yourself at Beth across the aisle.

"Tooney!" Mary snaps, interrupting the conversation she and Alessia are having.

"Jesus, Mary! You scared me there!"

"What did you give my sister?" Mary demands," She's never been like this before."

"Like what?"

"Like that!"

Mary points over to where you've decided it's a funny idea to crowd surf over the girls at the front, who are bouncing you a bit as they pass you off to the girls sitting behind them.

"She doesn't do that! She's also not wiggly on the bus! What did you give her?"

Tooney winces. "I gave her nothing!"

Mary narrows her eyes. "What did you let Millie and Maya give her?"

Tooney's eyes dart to them quickly before she clears her throat. "I've got the right to remain silent! Anything I say or do can be used against me in a court of-"

Mary's already moved off before Tooney can finish and she crosses the coach to confront the other two. "I'm not interested in excuses. Tell me what you've given my sister."

Her gaze is clearly intimidating because Maya and Millie fold instantly and Mary's on her way back to her seat, easily plucking you from someone's arms to set you back down next to her.

It seems most of the sugar rush has disappeared now but then another problem makes itself known.

The bus goes over a series of bumps and you make a little aborted movement forward.

Mary recognises the action and whips out a plastic bag. "Here, rugrat," She says," Let it out. Let it all out."

She rubs your back as you throw up. It takes a lot longer than usual to hurl up your guts and Mary narrows her eyes over the top of her seat to look at Millie and Maya.

This is all their fault, Mary knows it.

It's because of all of the sugar you've consumed that you've thrown up so bad and, as she ties the bag shut, Mary briefly contemplates throwing it at Millie and Maya.

"Juice, please," You say and Mary hands it to you," Sorry, Mary."

"It's okay," She says," It's not your fault. Do you want to continue your book?"

You nod, leaning against your sister, energy drained. "Yes, please."

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe loves to put his fingers in sensitive!reader’s mouth & her favorite place in the world is his lap...

cw: mean older!rafe being a tease & making her choke on his fingers, heavily suggestive, size kink, use of daddy

wc: 1.6k

in love w this man so more of him on the way xx

this is an additional part to this

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

Rafe has had a bad day.  

She notices it immediately by the way he greets her with only a brief peck on her cheek; carelessly throwing his jacket on the couch before slumping down against the cushions and letting out a washed-out exhale. 

For the entirety of the week, gloomy clouds have painted over the dusty, colorless horizon and wet water puddles have saturated the socks of passing pedestrians and dog walkers alike. However, Rafe is not someone who particularly minds rainy days, which is why she assumes that the reason for his disgruntled mood has something to do with business, as it more often than not does.  

He scratches at the buzzed hair still slightly damp from the rain while she simply stands there and blinks; unsure whether he wishes to be alone or not.  

”What are you doing? C’mere,” he suddenly orders in a somewhat of a stern tone and she has no choice but to pad over to his sprawled out legs, lowering to sit on top of him and letting him paw at her waist as his beefy arms pull her closer. And she can't really complain when the heat of his body seeps into her flesh in such a comforting way; makes her insides feel all fluffy and featherlight.

In the same way that Rafe seems to enjoy her needing him to take care of her when everything feels like too much, she loves being there for him; likes to feel useful, needed.

”Do you wanna...talk about it?” The muted melody of her vocal chords reaches his ears as vivid raindrops pitter patter against the glass of the windows and he groans in exhaustion at how perfect she is for him.  

”Not really,” he dismisses her with a shake of his head. ”How was your day, hm?” 

”It was uh, okay. I don’t know, the usual. Had some boring lectures, almost fell asleep…questioned every decision I’ve ever made,” she huffs out and settles her palms on his strong biceps.

”Mm,” he’s only half listening; beginning to mindlessly twirl a strand of her hair around his index finger.  

And she takes that as her cue to continue blabbering out complete nonsense as she begins to grow slightly restless being this close to him. Truth be told, she’s pathetically been missing him the whole day; the only thing granting her the motivation to go about her routines being the thought of seeing him at the end of it all. And now that he’s here, he seems frustrated; mind entirely elsewhere and she doesn’t know what to do except ramble on and on about her dull day.  

Then, completely out of the blue, he’s grabbing her jaw into his massive hand and hushing her. 

”Shut up for one second, yeah?” He mutters out before he’s tucking a thumb past her lips; a surprised squeak leaving the back of her throat at the sudden intrusion because he was the one who asked for her to talk in the first place.  

However, she can’t exactly say that it’s unexpected. He often gets a tad bit meaner whenever he’s had a dreary workday and takes it out on her in some form or another. And regardless of how unhealthy all of it might seem, there’s a crooked part of her brain that yearns for it; wants him to come to her whenever he’s upset. If she’s utterly honest, the thought of him searching for solace in anyone else makes nausea creep up her bones.

For some reason, the firm pad of his thumb making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth placates her; turns her brain into a needy, dingy muddle in a way that only Rafe is capable of.

”Shit, just needed something to suck on, huh?” He pushes down on her tongue, making her swallow around the digit with a whimper.  

”So fucking pathetic sometimes, you know? Just take anything Daddy gives you,” a low-pitched chuckle thunders from his chest, seemingly amused by the ease in which she gives into him.  

However, there’s also something gooey, syrupy beginning to whirl in the pit of her tummy. It reminds her of the countless times she was perched on the park swing as a little girl during the balmy summers of her childhood; thinking she could reach the fluffy clouds with the tips of her sneakers if only she could fly a little higher.  

”Feels nice to have something in your mouth, doesn’t it?” He ogles at her, mesmerized with intrigue twinkling in the Carolina blue that has always made her think of the sky.  

She lets out a faint moan when he drags the digit out and then back in, making her gag around it; her hips involuntarily rutting against the growing bulge straining against the zipper of his pants, desperate for some sort of friction if even through the soft material of her sweatpants.  

”Didn’t give you permission to move, did I?” He feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows that gets her to reluctantly halt her shifting.  

”Daddy, need your...” Her words are cushioned against the obstacle he’s planted between her teeth.

”Can’t really hear you, Kitten,” he mocks before he’s pulling the thumb out of her mouth altogether.  

However, the next thing she knows, he’s stuffing in his index and middle finger both at the same time. They reach far deeper; a muffled sound of gagging following his actions as he seems to discover a perverted sense of satisfaction from her struggle.

"What did you say?" His lips twist into a cruel smirk when she whimpers pitifully and tries to draw away from him in order to catch her breath but his other hand only grips her jaw tighter, keeping her exactly where he wants as she’s forced to breathe through her nose.  

”I think you can take it for a bit longer, yeah?” His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he simply stares, seemingly absorbed into the obscene scene before him.  

And she should feel embarrassed, demeaned even. And she does! However, the humiliation of letting him do whatever he wants as if she’s nothing but a cheap toy for his entertainment blurs over the lines when her cunt throbs in response to his degrading attention. She flutters uselessly around nothing; powerlessly begging for some sort of alleviation with a whine that merely earns her a tut of his tongue.  

Therefore, the only thing she can do is sit there like an obedient animal because he’s already scolded her once. She hasn’t turned entirely dumb just yet; knows firsthand how ‘Daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself’ and that the next time she misbehaves will result in a punishment her poor cunt probably wouldn’t be able to handle in this helpless state of hers. 

”Don't think you could take Daddy’s cock even halfway in this pretty mouth,” he mindlessly croons, thumb smoothing over the skin of her throat as she swallows the spit beginning to dribble down her chin.  

The thought manages to pique her curiosity because his cock has been at the forefront of her mind for a couple of weeks now, due to him constantly teasing her with the notion of letting her suck him off properly. He keeps murmuring about training her throat and fucking it raw but never actually doing it; merely allowing for her to drool and mouth over the tip because apparently she's 'not ready yet'.  

She’s beginning to turn into something desperate because whenever she tries to take more of him into her mouth, he stops her with a click of his tongue and big hands lifting her head off him. ”Don’t be greedy now, Kitten,” he’d scold her but she's certain she’s going to die if she doesn’t get to feel his cock nudge at the back of her throat soon.  

”Ray…” she tries to fruitlessly speak but he’s not exactly making it easy as he keeps stroking against her tongue. However, she doesn’t need to say anything. He knows what she wants.

”I mean, can barely fit into this tight cunt, don’t know why you keep whining about wanting me in this mouth so bad. Don’t think you’d even enjoy it that much. It’s a lot, you know?” There’s something almost patronizing in the way he’s speaking to her as if he’s not the one who brought the idea up in the first place.

It’s like he’s trying to talk her out of it yet his fingertips keep prodding past her gag reflex every few minutes, almost as if testing the waters before plunging in and it’s making her head spin.  

She whines and tries to defend herself but the digits fussing with the inside of her slobbery mouth don’t allow for her to form anything audible as she begins to grow troubled. 

”What was that?” The line of his mouth curls when he pokes deeper once more, causing her to moan with watery eyes pleading him for anything at this point.  

”Such a dirty girl. Bet you’d like choking on my cock, huh?” He grunts and she hums in response; nodding fervently before he’s finally withdrawing his hand and smearing the spit-stained fingers against her pouty lips.

They’re both panting heavily as he gently swipes at her under-eyes in order to catch the teardrops ready to trickle down before petting at the apples of her cheeks with a tenderness reserved only for her.

”Shit, always know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” He rumbles fondly against her mouth; following his saccharine words with a messy kiss soon after. Maybe he'll finally allow her to have what she so badly craves…

[userchai]

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 - 18+

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵…. 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

word-count 2.2K

thank you so much for reading feedback is appreciated I love you all dearly! sorry if there are any mistakes! 🖤

“If you love me right then who knows?”

You knew this was a terrible idea, letting him back in, but when he had shown up at your door, shivering and crying you just couldn’t say no. The soft morning glow of the sun illuminates his face beautifully as you stand at your bedroom door.

His eyelashes flutter as he turns a little in his sleep, the long black curls you’ve always loved are wild and messy. “What are you doing to me Eddie?” You whisper, shaking your head and fighting back tears.

He came to you because he didn’t know where else to go, having moved away from Hawkins years ago. It was hours away and you were only fifteen minutes down the road, so Eddie did what he knew best, he came back to you.

This isn’t the first time he’s shown back up since the two of you split years ago, but for some reason in this moment the air feels different. He looks so peaceful in your bed, he looks like he fits, like this is his home too.

You glance at the calendar above your bed, it’s Sunday. You have nowhere to be but right here with the man that you’re still so in love with, it’s painful.

You slowly make your way over to your bed, gently setting yourself down on it, not wanting to wake him yet. The fight the two of you had gotten into last night when he just showed up was still fresh in your mind.

“You can’t just come right back Eddie! You always do this!” You had screamed, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back against your front door.

The night ended differently than you would’ve expected, Eddie had kissed you, and he didn’t stop kissing. You both knew this would only lead to more hurt down the road but neither of you cared.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Eddie wake up until his hand gently brushes your arm. “Hey.. you okay baby?” He whispers. ‘Baby’ you wanted to tell him that’s not who you were to him anymore, but you couldn’t.

“I’m alright. Did you sleep okay?” You ask, brushing a piece of his hair away from his face. He nods slowly, sitting up. You both stare at each other for a minute, Eddie’s eyes are puffy with sleep and it only makes him look even more attractive.

You smile timidly, damn him for making you feel every single feeling you’ve been working so hard on pushing down for years. “Good, I was gonna make something to eat if you’re hungry?” You ask, going to stand up before Eddie’s grabbing your hand, pulling you back down.

His dark eyes may as well be looking right through you as he keeps you in place. He’s very obvious, you’ve seen that look a million times before, the only thing Eddie is hungry for at the moment is you.

“Ed, I don’t think that’s such a good idea-” you start off, chewing your lip nervously as he pulls you closer to where he’s leaning back against your headboard. “If anything, let me have you for just one more night, I understand if you want me to leave forever after that. I just need to feel you one more time.”

Your heart is pounding beneath your chest, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time, you knew you wanted him. You needed him. Your body reacts before your mind can make up words to say back to him, you straddle yourself over his lap and gently reach down to hold his face. “I’ve never stopped loving you Eddie Munson.” You whisper.

The prettiest smile breaks out over those pouty lips that you could kiss for hours, “Show me then.” He says back, it’s a challenge. You bite back a laugh at how desperately Eddie’s clinging to you right now. His big hands are gripping onto your hips, you hope they bruise you want to remember this forever.

Eddie can be soft sometimes, even if he doesn’t look like it, and this is definitely one of those times. You could break him, and he would let you. You wanted to wreck him and rebuild him after. He groans lowly beneath you as you slowly circle your hips, grinding down against his lap for just a few seconds before stopping.

“Please don’t stop, I need to feel you.” He almost whimpers out, so pathetic, how much he needs you. You lean down slowly and kiss up the side of his neck, biting down against his jaw hard enough that it draws out a little blood. You wanted pain, you wanted him to feel everything that you’ve felt, you wanted him to know that if he fucks up this time he will never see you again.

“Fuck. You little vixen.” He bites out as you run your hands down his shoulders, you keep them going as you shuffle back off of his lap. “Gonna ruin you, is that what you came here for?” You ask as he bites his lip. He nods quickly, watching you pull your sheets back away from his body. “Oh, how cute baby, look how hard you’ve gotten and all I did was sit in your lap for a minute, admit it, you need me.”

You pull the covers all the way off of him, shuffling down to lay on your stomach in front of him as you run your hand teasingly against his length that’s straining behind his tight boxers. “I-fuck, I need you, I love you, I’m sorry for being such an idiot and leaving before please, even if you don’t want me anymore just use me today, that’s all I want.”

You smile up at him, that’s exactly the answer you wanted. If he thinks he can just come back and instantly win you over he is sorely mistaken, he’s going to work for it. You dig your nails into his skin a little as a hiss breaks its way out of his mouth, before you’re pulling his boxers down. You must be going far too slow for his liking because you swear you hear him start begging as his cock finally slaps back against his stomach.

You’ve missed him so bad, and you’ve missed feeling him inside of you almost more than the relationship you once had shared. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick length, the head is leaking pre-cum against his stomach as you tap your fingers lazily against his thighs. “Why should I suck you off baby? I don’t know if you deserve my mouth anymore.” He moans loudly, pushing his hands against his eyes before he’s grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh quietly, he’s so hard it must be hurting by now. “Fuck…. Please I know I don’t deserve it okay? I don’t, but just, please I’ll be so good I’ll do anything to have you again baby.” You lick your lips slowly, before you’re spitting down onto the head. “Fine, but it’s at my pace, don’t you fucking move.” You can hear the air leave his lungs as you slowly wrap one of your hands tightly against him, stroking him slowly and spreading your saliva all over him.

You know just how he likes it, sloppy and loud, you are determined to make sure he remembers this, if today really is the last time. Focusing back on him you lean down and kiss up the side of his cock before you’re at the very top, you flutter your eyelashes up at him as his stomach tenses. He’s so beautiful, you sink your mouth down around him and the most beautiful sound comes out of his throat. Sure, Eddie is a good singer, but the sounds he makes for you have always been better than music.

It only takes a few more minutes of absolutely setting out to ruin Eddie, before his hips are threatening to lift off the bed. You know he wants to fuck your mouth, but you specifically told him not to move, so you pull off of him and slap his thigh. “I thought I said no moving, don’t you wanna be my good boy?” He looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he frantically apologizes, reaching to grip onto you. You can feel him shaking as you sit back up onto your knees.

“Don’t deserve my mouth anymore, you can’t even listen to instructions baby, but I’ll let you have my pussy. The only thing is, you’re not cumming.” Your stomach is already wound tight at the thought of having him inside you again, you waste no time in pulling your panties off and throwing them down onto the floor. Eddie looks like an absolute wreck already, his hair stuck to his face, eyes blown full of lust and love as he looks up at you. “Please just fuck me.” He whispers.

Reaching behind yourself to grab his cock again you rub the tip against yourself over and over, you can feel it pulsing against your hand. You knew how bad he needed to cum but for now things were going to be about you. You tense up as you slowly slide yourself down onto him, he’s so thick it almost hurts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He gasps out, his hands gripping the sheets below you as you finally bottom out around him.

You wait a few minutes to adjust before you are lifting yourself back up, the drag of his cock inside of you is addicting and you don’t know if you’ll even last very long. You drop back down again, moaning loudly as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, I’ve missed you baby, please, want you to fill me up when I say you can, need to feel you leaking back out of me for days Eddie.” His hands are all over your body, pulling, gripping, never wanting to let go. The both of you are breathing into each other’s mouths, crying out in pleasure and love.

It’s like nothing had ever happened, you wanted this for life, and you know at this moment he wants it too. He’s barely holding himself together as you bounce on his lap like some sort of angelic nymph. He can’t decide whether he wants to sing filthy praises or spill his heart out about how much he loves you as his cock rubs against that spot in you that sends both of you into a frenzy. “That’s it, fuck Eddie please, oh my god, cum now baby, fill me up, give me all of your love and let me feel it.”

‘Bad idea!’ Your mind was screaming, but your heart and body didn’t care, all the nasty thoughts of how much you hated what he did to you were slowly being stripped away from you. Eddie doesn’t know a lot, but right now he knows he is never letting go of you again. He stops holding back as you tense down around him again, leaning your forehead against his as he runs his hands down your back, gripping onto your ass. The neighbors must be getting a good show with how loud you both are.

You can feel him break beneath you, his body trembling as ‘I love you’ spills out of his lips over and over, your own orgasm washes over you quickly when Eddie bites down on your collar bone, sucking a bruise right into your soft skin. The both of you cling to each other as your highs slowly come down, you feel like you could nap forever with how spent your body is.

Another quiet moan slips past your lips as Eddie lifts you off of him slowly, you can feel his cum leaking out of you and down onto your thighs. “What a beautiful mess you are.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss you on your forehead as tears well up in your eyes. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, your throat hurts from how loud you’d been only moments ago. He doesn’t reply right away, instead he reaches for his Metallica shirt that’s on the floor, slowly pulling it down over your head and helping you put your arms through.

It smells like heaven, it smells like everything you’ve missed. “Yes baby?” He asks. “Please, don’t hurt me again. Don’t let me go.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek before it’s quickly being wiped away by his calloused fingers. “You’re never leaving my sight again, I was such an idiot when we were younger, but I want you, I want us forever.” He leans his forehead against yours as you both sit there in silence, maybe you could work again. Who knows?

The rest of the morning is softer, after you both had a moment to catch your breath Eddie had helped you into a bath, getting in behind you to rub your sore muscles as you laughed quietly while sharing things you’d missed out on since you’d last seen each other. This was easy, it was familiar, it was love. You couldn’t fight back smiling as you watched him standing at your oven, flipping a pancake over in a frying pan and almost dropping it onto the floor.

You knew opening the door for him was potentially opening your heart up to be broken again, but for Eddie you would risk everything, even your heart.

tag list 🏷️

@loserboysandlithium @gri959 @eddies-esposa @undeadmfs @perfectlymellowthing @multi-culti-girl @iamnotoverlyfondofwhatfollo-blog @catherinnn @ainelantv @quinnyficsy @ali-r3n @edsbug @hippiegoth97 @thepurplelovewitch @munson-mjstan @ironictechtonicplatonic @xplrnowornever @hellfiremunsonn @mmunson86 @cremeve @ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous @munsongirly @jamdoughnutmagician @raratasome @alivinggirl @honey-flustered @ho-for-joequinn-fics @eddiemunsonfuxks @melodymunson @usersallyskellington @dickchomper @cryingglightningg @xsinfullxlover666 @myspacebrat @taintandviolent @eddiesghxst @josephquinnsfreckles @vecslut @tlclick73 @woahlifehitsyahuh @rose1518

[ghostsangel]

“oh, wouldn't that be lovely? you would torture me. whisper me the reasons that you hated me. say it in the way that makes my knees go weak, and let me dangle from you like a piece of meat.”

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

tags/warnings: mdni, enemies to somewhat lovers, simon legit hates us, shooting/bullet wounds, filthy ass smut, hatefucking, choking, squirting, meaaaan simon

The mission was starting off great.

First, Price had paired you with Ghost. That pissed you off more than anything considering the fact that Price knows you and Ghost don’t get along. The large, silent man doesn’t trust you on missions because you’re the newest member of the 141. He doesn’t listen to your input, just outlines the plan himself and expects you to follow.

The mission was pretty simple. Navigate through a series of warehouses and find the tiny USB drive that held intel the 141 needed. That all went to shit when Ghost didn’t listen to you and you ended up getting shot.

You throw your head back against the wall, groaning in pain as you clutch your arm. Ghost pushed you into an abandoned room, and you sink to the ground, eyes shut.

The wound isn’t bad—through and through, upper arm. You exhale shakily through the pain, glancing up at Ghost who is standing there looking down at you.

“Are you gonna stand there all fucking day or are you gonna help me wrap this?” You hiss at him, dragging your pack toward you to look for alcohol wipes and bandages.

Ghost says nothing, but he crouches down next to you, gun by his side. He grips your arm and assesses the wound, tilting his head as his eyes take in every detail.

“Through and through,” he grunts, taking the alcohol wipe from you. He tears it open and runs it along the wound, cleaning the blood and you shut your eyes.

“Fuck,” you groan, head tilting back as he works.

“Sorry,” he grumbles. That surprises you—he never apologizes.

You don’t respond, just let him spread antibiotic ointment over the wound before packing and wrapping it. You swallow down the pained groan in your throat and stand up, placing your pack back on your back.

You’re silent, not wanting to talk to him. You’re too pissed off. He got you shot, and all you want to do is go back to base and debrief with Price. You draw your gun and open the door, Ghost moving behind you.

He takes the lead as you move through the warehouse, taking down target after target. Eventually, you find the USB with the intel, and you and Ghost silently leave the warehouse and head to the rendezvous point.

You don’t even react when you get onto the heli, Ghost sitting across from you. Your arm aches and your head is pounding, and all you wanna do is deck Ghost in the fucking face.

Before the debrief, you head to the med bay where they stitch up your wound. It’s painful, but it eventually feels much better after being stitched up. Sighing, you head to Price’s office, finding Ghost already inside.

Price’s eyes flick to your arm. “Lieutenant Riley was just explaining what happened.”

“Yeah? He explained that he got me shot?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at Ghost.

“I didn’t get you shot.” His voice is gruff and blunt, eyes flicking to yours behind the mask.

“The fuck you didn’t.” Rage boils beneath your skin, and your nostrils flare. “You didn’t listen to me when I warned you, and it ended with me having a bullet shot through my arm.”

Price holds up his hands, silencing you and Ghost. “Look, you two can work this shit out another time. Lieutenant, did you get the intel?”

You pull the USB from your vest pocket. “I got it.”

Price takes it from you and nods. “You two are dismissed.”

You nod, saluting him before glaring daggers at Ghost and walking to your quarters. You’re sweaty and gross and desperately need to shower.

You shower quickly, rinsing off the dirt and grime from the day, thinking about Ghost. That man annoys the shit out of you, but you admit that he’s attractive in a weird, masked sort of way. The annoyance and hate outweigh the fleeting feeling, though, and you grumble to yourself as you get out of the shower and dress.

You head to the canteen, absolutely starving, running right into Ghost. You take a step back from his large frame, his head tilting down to look at you.

“How’s the arm?” He asks, his gaze flicking to the freshly wrapped bandage.

“Fine.” You look up at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Thanks for today, really. Absolutely adore getting shot.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” he says, and you swear he laughs.

“Okay, Ghost. Sure. Believe what you want.”

Ghost’s eyes narrow and you find yourself suddenly backed up against your door, his forearm pressed against your throat.

“Anyone ever told you that you act like a twat sometimes?” He asks. His eyes bore into yours, and you look back at him unflinchingly.

“Anyone ever told you that?” You retort, a small smirk playing on your lips.

Ghost chuckles and tugs his mask up. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re stubborn, don’t follow orders, boss me around…” His teeth graze your earlobe and a shiver runs up your spine. “Your attitude pisses me off and I fuckin’ hate how you act.”

You gasp quietly as you feel a hardness pressed against your stomach, and you push his head back so you can look into his eyes.

“So why are you so hard, then?” You ask, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Hm? You get so worked up just being around me?”

Ghost growls, forearm leaving your throat. Your body is pushed through your now open door, Ghost slamming it shut behind him. He grips your throat, tugging you to him.

“I’m hard ‘cause I think about fuckin’ you till you learn how to not be such a stubborn, bossy insubordinate.” He squeezes the sides of your throat, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

You can’t help it—it’s hot. The throbbing between your legs attests to that. Heat flutters in your belly, and your hands run down his shirt and underneath, digging your nails into his flesh and scratching down his stomach.

He lets out a groan, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You grin, teeth and all, nails still digging into the skin of his belly.

“Go on, then. See if you can try.” Your words are dangerous, but you want him.

Ghost tugs the mask up and off his face, and you barely have time to admire his scarred skin before his lips are on yours, hungry and angry. The kiss isn’t sweet—far from it. Teeth clash together, tongues sliding against one another. His hand grips your throat as he keeps you pressed against him, other hand snaking its way down to your ass.

You twist your fingers into his hair, giving it a sharp tug. Ghost lets out a groan as his head tilts back, and you graze his neck with your teeth, nipping at the skin harshly.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands moving to grip your hips.

“You like pain, don’t you?” You mutter into his neck, sinking your teeth into the skin.

Ghost responds by pressing his hips against yours, his cock twitching in his pants. You grin against his neck, and he shoves you back until your legs hit the bed. You fall backward, Ghost working at your clothes. His eyes graze over your naked body, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, hands running up your thighs. He spreads your legs, his middle and ring fingers spreading your arousal up your slit until he gets to your clit.

You lean your head back, moaning softly at the feeling of his rough fingers on your clit. You jolt as a sharp slap stings your sensitive nub, head snapping back up to look at Ghost.

“Eyes on me.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “Sure, Lieutenant.”

Ghost growls softly, one hand moving to your neck as he hovers over you. His two fingers push inside you, relentless and unforgiving. He stares into your eyes as he fingers you, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you that sends an electric jolt down your spine.

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he mutters, gripping your neck tightly.

Your heart flutters, and you gasp as he stretches out your tight cunt. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched you this way—you’re already falling apart. Ghost smirks at you, and your eyes rake down his face, admiring each scar that litters his skin.

“Ghost,” you whine, bucking your hips up. You feel lightheaded, no doubt from his grip on your throat. “Gonna come—fuck!”

He nods, his fingers pulsing against that sweet spot over and over, his hand moving from your neck to press on your lower stomach.

“Gonna come already?” He asks, his tone slightly mocking. “Fuckin’ pathetic. Barely even touched you.”

You whine, your hand moving to grip his neck. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, a moan slipping past his lips. You grin for a split second before your mouth opens and you groan, back arching.

“Go on, little brat. Feel you clenchin’ so tight around me. Gimme what I want.” His voice is gruff and rough, his fingers relentless as they find a home inside your gummy walls.

You cry out as you come, juices squirting onto his hand and down his wrist. He chuckles as you throb around him, eyes never leaving your face. His fingers slow, eventually pulling out of you with a little pop, and he brings them to his mouth, licking them clean and groaning at the taste.

Ghost stands, and you watch him as you pant, legs trembling from your orgasm. He strips, his cock hanging heavy when he pulls down his underwear. He pulls you to the end of the bed, gripping your hair and guiding you onto the floor until your knees thud against it.

“Open,” he says, forcing you to look up at him.

You obey—how can you not? Ghost strokes his cock before sliding it inside your warm, wet mouth. You take him eagerly, sucking and licking his shaft. He lets out a soft moan at the feeling, forcing your head down until your nose brushes his pelvis. You swallow around him, tears pricking your eyes as he just holds you there.

“Swallowin’ my cock like such a good little whore,” he says, looking down at you. His hips thrust forward, pushing him further down your throat and you thank God you don’t have a gag reflex.

He face fucks you slowly at first—lazy thrusts that have you moaning around his cock. Then, he picks up speed, and it’s not long before tears are mixing with the drool running down your chin. Ghost’s moans are heavenly, and the look in his half-lidded eyes make you squeeze your thighs together.

He pulls his cock out after a few minutes, tugging you up by your hair. He wipes his thumb under your eyes and uses his discarded shirt to wipe your mouth before he kisses you, picking you up and holding you against him.

His fat cock runs against your dripping cunt, and you whine into his mouth and grind down against him. He chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss and opening his eyes.

“Needy little whore,” he whispers, and then he’s sliding his cock inside you.

The stretch is intense, and you let out a garbled whine as he sinks into you. Your back hits the bed, Ghost holding your thighs to your chest as he watches his length disappear inside your warm, inviting cunt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he groans, head hanging forward as he pushes his entire length inside you, tip nestled snugly against your cervix. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“Ghost, move,” you whine, bucking your hips up. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Oh, you wanna be good for me now?” He asks, drawing his hips back before slamming back inside you. “Gonna listen and be a good girl?”

You nod, and Ghost grins before beginning to fuck you hard and fast. His fat cock splits you open, leaky mushroom tip slamming against your cervix in the most deliciously painful way. He leans down, teeth biting into your neck as his hips move.

You feel like you can’t even breathe, your pussy clenching around him as his tip grazes your g-spot with each thrust. His teeth work at your neck, sucking and biting harshly, nails digging into your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock so well,” he whispers in your ear. “Gonna fill this cunt up, do you want that? Hm? Wanna be my little barrack’s bunny I get to breed?”

His words rip a moan from your throat, and you nod, nails dragging down his back. “Fuck, please. Please, Ghost, need it so bad. Gonna fucking come all over your cock, please let me come!”

His teeth nip and suck on the other side of your neck, his cock twitching inside of you. “Go on, bunny. Come for me.”

Your whole body trembles as you come, nails digging into his back so hard they draw blood. Ghost lets out a groan, face buried in your neck as his hips stutter and his cock throbs, emptying his load into your needy cunt. Your pussy throbs around him, milking him of every single drop of his cum.

He pants softly, warm breath hitting your sweaty skin. Blood drips down his back, and he plants soft kisses up your neck until he gets to your lips. The kiss is soft, unlike the ones before. He pulls back, forehead pressed against yours.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs. “My good bunny.”

[itneverendshere]

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”

Rafe freezes.

He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.

He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”

Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 

“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."

Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”

“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”

“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 

“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.

So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.

Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 

He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”

He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.

“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”

His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 

The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.

“Hey,” Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

But you know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.

“I need to find Rafe.”

Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.

He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 

This is worse.

It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 

You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?�� You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”

His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—"

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.

“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”

But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?” 

 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”

“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.

He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”

It pushes something inside you.

Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 

“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 

“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.

You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.

Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.

At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 

It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.

And then, it hits him all at once. You.

You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.

He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.

But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 

Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 

Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.

He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw Rafe.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.

You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.

And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.

You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.

You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."

That was a week ago.

And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”

 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”

“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”

Your blood turns ice cold.

“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”

“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.

You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….

You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”

You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.

“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.

You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 

After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.

“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

Lucky. 

The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”

You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.

The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.

Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.

After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 

The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.

“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 

The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.

He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 

“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.

“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.

You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.

You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

[lightaflaem]

𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.���

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” 

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.” 

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.” 

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo. 

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?” 

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now. 

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area. 

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.” 

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck. 

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna’s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you - in this chap it's Satoru Gojo x mistress, Nanami x you It's messy and will get messier :)

♔ Warnings: Sex, infidelity, mentions of past self harm, panic attacks, cheating on both ends, cruelty from Duke Gojo. OOC. ANGST. Say hello to Mr. Nanami hehe. Gojo is TERRIBLE still, you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 7.8k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

♔Part Two - ♔ Playlist ♔ Masterlist

Part Three

The next day, you had your Nanny help you dress into a simple blue dress that hugged your curves just right, but wasn’t too revealing. You had your hair up in a neat bun, with little ringlets framing your face, along with a little bonnet that has a pretty blue ribbon wrapped around under your chin.

“You look stunning, Lady Gojo.” She says softly, and you smile at her in the mirror.

“Thank you, Nan. I feel more… determined this morning. I shall have a good day, no matter what.” You say with a little smile, and she hugs you tight, you hesitantly head down the grand, winding staircase, and when you turn toward the door you bump right into Satoru’s hard body.

“Oof!” You nearly fall, but for some reason he catches you, his arm wrapping your waist before you careen on your backside. You gasp, looking up at him then, and his face is soft for just a moment as he holds you, as he looks at your face carefully, then lower. “I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry.”

He eases you to stand, adjusting his own blue suit that he is wearing, along with a brocade vest and elegantly tied cravat. His trousers are clinging to his well formed thighs, along with a glimmering pair of hessian boots. You may despise him but the man clearly dresses impeccably, something you also do, though he’d likely never admit such things.

“You are quite clumsy indeed. Off to town?” He asks, he’s brushing himself off as if to get the touch of you away. You nod nervously, looking down a bit, fiddling with the lace on your dress.

“I am indeed, do you need anything while I am out? The modiste is right by all sorts of shops.” You ask, earning a raised brow, pursed full lips… his eyes raking over you cruelly. You tense.

“I need nothing from you but for you to not exist, perhaps.” You gasp then, stepping back at the insanely harsh words, from nothing. He sighs, blinking a bit, running a hand through silky white hair before looking at you, then when he sees your tears, his haughty expression changes.

You say nothing, as you feel your chest pounding with your heart’s rhythm, your throat constricting. Composed and perfect, how!? How when you try so hard to be kind and he so casually destroys you, destroys that positivity you’d cultivated this morning. You tremble as you fight your tears, but soon they’ve overtaken you, and you’ve turned away, clutching your throat as it wracks through you.

You’re damn near hyperventilating when he has a hand on your shoulder, that burns you and fills you with disgust. “I shouldn’t have said that, are you…” You turn to glare up at him through your tears, and it’s the first time you see emotion in his face, his eyes swirling with a thin film of moisture. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I try so hard… every day… to just… to just…” You can’t breathe now, and you can feel the blood pressure rising, you can feel your fingertips go numb as your lungs refuse to work.

“Please, let’s sit, you’re-”

“Hands… off…” You’re practically wheezing now, but Gojo doesn’t remove his damn hands, he’s trying to lead you to sit down on the steps, and you’re smacking at him through the blurry vision of your tears.

“Can I get you something, you don’t look good. You-”

“You… don’t… care. Let me… not breathe…” You feel like you’ll faint then and there, as your hands press on your throat, and Gojo is gripping your shoulders, turning you around then, before you know it he’s yanked at your corset strings, loosening them, and you finally get a breath, leaned over the rail, shaking.

He’s rubbing you right between your shoulder blades as you sit on the step in front of him, trembling as oxygen comes back. You hate his touch, you hate him, you hate him so much. “Breathe.”

You want to laugh, but you can’t manage to.

Breathe as if it’s so simple.

It’s quiet as he’s rubbing your back, and it feels… calming, and you hate it, hate his touch, with his long, elegant fingers brushing bare skin. “I’m quite alright now, you may go. Do not let me ruin your day.”

His hand pauses its gentle brushes, now one is sliding down to your shoulder, and his exhale makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You lace your corset far too tightly, it’s digging into your back.” He makes you tremble as he runs his touch down the red criss cross marks left on your delicate skin.

“I have to make sure I don’t look bigger to you than I already do to you.” You whisper harshly, and he laughs, dark and husky.

“I already said that wasn’t true. Don’t expect me to repeat that.”

“Yes, well. Why not let me stop breathing, it would solve your problems, wouldn’t it?” You turn then, chest heaving as your body greedily sucks in breaths. “You wouldn’t have to look upon my face again.”

He blinks a bit, lips setting in a terse line as his jaw clenches, hands falling down to his sides. “I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

“Is that one of your half ass apologies again? What have I done to deserve any of this, I ask again. Any of this.”

“You need to calm down, you’re all red again.” He’s touching an overheated cheek, so you smack his hand away, earning a more typical glare from him.

“There were times I wished I didn’t exist.” You rub that scar then, looking away in the distance, your heart starts to slow down finally. His eyes dart to the action and he takes your hand in his, looking down in confusion, you yank it back quickly.

He gulps now, eyes locked there, looking visibly more pale. “I did not mean I wished you dead. I meant… not in my life.”

You blink back that emotion, wishing you could fully hide your reactions, but he pushes you until you’ll break. “I also wish I wasn’t in your life, Duke.”

You both sit there, hatred and anger lingering between you, forcing you to stand then, swiping at your face. “You cried.”

“Imagine that. Even I have a breaking point.” You adjust your dress then, as he stands, tall and looming over you.

“Turn, I’ll fix them looser.” You want to argue, but you cannot tie your own corset, so you oblige, and he begins to tie them, firm but not too tightly, deft fingers working each ribbon. “Corsets are nonsense. I don’t enjoy them. Too much work to make a woman naked.” You laugh humorlessly at that, as he keeps lacing you up.

“Well good news for you, you’ll never have to take one off me.” You quip, making him pause, stepping just a little closer, sending shivers down your spine.

He clears his throat, continuing on now. “That’s true. Thank God for that.”

You blink in anger, struggling to hold it in. “Indeed. I’m sure I’m quite hideous to you, aren’t I?”

He says nothing for a moment, hands on the ribbons of your corset just paused there, as you both breathe heavily in the entryway of the Manor. “I have not seen your body to make such judgments.”

“I’d never show you, fret not. Imagine, the first man that sees me naked tells me how disgusting I am. I’ll make sure the one who does finds me beautiful. Ah!”

He ties it tight finally, and just stays there behind you. “So eager for another man to see you naked?”

“No, I’m not, but I know the one I choose will find me beautiful. Not passable, or adequate.” You turn now, looking up at him, seeing the anger in his gaze. “Imagine if every time I saw you shirtless I said ‘unattractive’.”

He scoffs at that. “Tch, you wouldn’t, who would?”

You scoff then, smiling a bit. “Who would say that to me if they saw me topless? I assure you, nobody would.”

His eyes dart back down then, to your breasts, pushed high and full, tantalizing his gaze, but they then trail back to your pretty face. “You’re awfully confident about such things.”

“Yes well, you won’t ruin that for me too. You already have ruined my life. You will not take the confidence I built, hard as you try.”

“An abundance of it.”

“So men can have it, but women cannot? You wish for a simpering little chit to beg ‘oh Satoru, please call me pretty!’ That must be why you enjoy Miss Catherine so bloody much, and why you hate me.” You’re putting the back of your hand to your head, simpering, and earning a sharp laugh and a scowl.

“You expect men to fawn over you, as they always have, just like Lord Geto did last night, hmm?” You smile as you remember just how much Geto did think you were beautiful, and Satoru’s eyes narrow at that.

“No, I expect kindness and not cruelty. I expect to have a morning where I’m not told to not exist.” Gojo looks down, his broad shoulders hunched. “All I asked was if you needed something. You’re the cruelest person I’ve met, and you thrive in it.”

His cheeks turn red, as he looks down at your lips, eyes lingering where you've left teeth indentations from biting so hard. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me. And you never will, by your own choice.” You push past him then, and he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “What!?”

“Do you have the money I left for you in your room?” You laugh at that, a bark of laughter really, why does he insist on lingering and hurting you more and more!?

“Yes, I do.”

“You may also put anything you want on my credit. Jewelry, or shoes, ribbon, whatever you require.”

“I won’t use your money for more than necessary.”

“I’ll not have my wife with a bare neck, and there’s a masquerade coming. Purchase a mask and jewelry accordingly.”

You sigh, looking down at where he still holds your wrist, big hand taking the delicate thing over. “Fine, then, I shall do so.”

“Very well.” He lets you go slowly, but he lingers there, like the pest he’s becoming “Are you fine to go out in this warm weather after nearly fainting?”

“What do you care, it could eliminate your problem. You’d get my insanely high dowry and I’ll be gone.” You smile coldly back at him, his mouth is open, his pretty eyes sorrowful.

“I-”

“Goodbye, your grace. Tell Catherine hello when you fuck her for me.” You walk out then, slamming the manor doors behind you, pressing your back against them and struggling to come to.

Just when you think he cannot get more cruel, he does, and he’s forcing this dark part of you that you don’t know what to think of.

It’s a bit of a drive into town in the grand carriage, but the air is crisp and the horses are moving swiftly. You see the little shops as you pull up, the horses clipped and clopped on the cobblestone streets. The numerous people are all dressed in their Sunday best, couples holding hands, and it’s quite the sight.

The modiste is a charming little shop with a bell that tinkles when you walk in, and immediately a flurry of activity starts. The women inside all look up at you, gasping. “Your Grace! What brings you to us?”

You blink, as the woman who had called out is a beautiful woman with a pretty accent, she has light blue braids that decorate her pretty face, making her look mysterious. “Hello Miss Mei! I wish to pick out some new dresses for the season, it’s been a while since I’ve had any new ones made, also we have the masquerade soon which is the priority. Would you mind helping me?”

“Oh, of course, of course!” She says, bustling over, she’s tall and curved and so elegant. “Let’s get you into the back so we can have a proper look, shall we?” She grabs your hand and pulls you back into the back, as you realize the woman’s quite strong.

“Your Grace, we are so honored to be of service to you!” Her assistant, Utahime, is a delicate and pretty brunette, who cheerfully greets you. You smile over at her.

“Please, just call me Lady Gojo for now. I am not feeling so formal today, and I’d like to enjoy your company without the title weighing on us, if that’s okay?” They both nod eagerly, and they get to work, pulling out fabrics and dresses, asking your opinions.

It’s refreshing to be around such genuine cheer, such pure love for their craft, and you find yourself smiling more and more as you look over the fabrics, for a beautiful moment your cruel husband isn’t in your mind. Utahime holds up a deep blue that matches his eyes, though, but it’s beautiful. You sigh.

“Oh, yes, that’s lovely!”

“It’s perfect, Lady Gojo! And it’ll compliment your husband so nicely!” She says, as Mei Mei agrees, holding up a silver one. “This would be for a masquerade?”

“I’d like to think so, yes. I’ve not been to one in so long!”

The girls giggle a bit, as they start pulling out designs, and your mind drifts off to a past you’ve pushed aside. You’d gone to a masquerade once, before you’d met Gojo, and you’d felt so alive, dancing with a mysterious stranger, feeling his hands on you, feeling so desired. He was blond, wasn’t he!?

You’d been so young then, you still were but twenty one, but you were perhaps seventeen when you’d danced in his arms, and you can remember those glimmering hazel eyes drinking you in, a lazy smile on his face. You’d fancied yourself in love then and there, just a teenager of course, and you two had almost kissed on one of the balconies.

He’d cupped your face so delicately, and your eyes had fluttered shut. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen, darling.”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve seen, Sir.” You’d tip toed, finger lifting at his mask teasingly, making him laugh. “Even more handsome I imagine without this.”

“I should say the same.” He begins to lift your mask then, off your face so gently, then he had sucked in a breath, running rough but gentle fingers down your face. “Stopped my heart.”

“Oh, you go on, Sir.” You look down shyly, but he’s tilting your chin up, his breath warm and sweet against your lips.

“An angel amongst mere mortals. Should I have such an honor?” He’s leaning further, and your heart is hammering in your chest, then you hear it, your mother.

“Shit!” You back off, putting your mask back on, earning his chuckle.

“The angel has a mouth.” You giggle then, leaning up and kissing his cheek, before backing away. He reaches for you, but you’re running off. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Sir!”

“Let’s try this one on!” Utahime says, holding up a gorgeous gown, and you nod eagerly, shaking out of your reverie. Ah, to have been young and hopeful.

You allow them to help you out of your day dress and into this beautiful creation, and as you look in the mirror, you can’t help but feel like that girl again, the one who felt alive, the one who felt desired. The one before Satoru Gojo in just a week or so had been absolutely destroyed. You see it in your eyes, she is still there.

“You’re positively glowing, Lady Gojo!” Mei Mei says, and Utahime nods in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you both so much. This is just what I needed!” And it truly was, as you spun in the gown, watching the fabric flutter around you like a storm of silk, it’s the prettiest silver you’ve ever seen.

“We can have this adjusted before the masquerade, Is there anything else we can do for you?” Utahime asks, and you look over to the side, seeing a few accessories. “Oh, a necklace perhaps?”

“Yes I believe so. Perhaps silver to match?” Mei Mei grabs a few to show you, as you try them on, looking into the mirror.

“This one!” Utahime says, holding up a necklace with glittering sapphires. “It’s so beautiful on you!”

You agree, and they put it around your neck, the cool stone resting against your collarbone. “How much?”

It’s an insane amount but…

Fuck Gojo, you can at least get pretty things, yes?

“Thank you, so much. You’ve made my day.” They both smile broadly, and you realize how much you’ve missed this, the simple kindness of others. Leaving the manor is like a huge breath of fresh air.

As you leave the modiste, feeling so much lighter, clinging to your bag with some of your purchases, most will be delivered as they’re still being made. Then you see him, a man in the distance, watching you, and your heart stops. He's tall and blond, just like this dream of yours, just like that night…

It can’t be, can it?

He looks right at you across the bustling street, and his face lights up in recognition, a small tired smile on his handsome face. He comes across the way, stopping in front of you now, and your heart thuds in your chest. Oh but if you’d met him again, could everything have changed? But who was he?

“It’s the mysterious masquerade angel.” He teases, and you giggle a bit, as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it with warm lips.

Your eyes take in his every feature, from his sharp cheekbones, to his thin upper lip and full lower, a conundrum that begged for kisses. His hand that holds yours is so strong, rough, not like the gentlemen you’re used to, and it serves to make your heart flutter.

His hazel eyes that you remember vividly are tilted up like a cat, and he has dark circles under them, serving to show along with rough hands how hard he must work. His sandy blond hair makes you remember that dream, and suddenly you feel even more flustered, as you put it together. He’s nearly as tall as Geto and Gojo, but he’s much broader, shoulders massive under a sleek tan suit.

“How rude of me, just staring.” You give him your name, and it sounds far too good on his lips, with his deep, sultry voice, emanating so much warmth and kindness when his lips quirk. You realize he’s still holding your hand.

“Kento Nanami. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.” His thumb brushes your ring then, and he frowns down at it. “Ah, and met you too late?”

“It’s quite a long story I’m afraid, Mr. Nanami.” You say softly, he looks at you curiously, studying your face.

“Forgive me for saying this, but you look so very… forlorn. Have things been rough in this… marriage?”

“Oh…” You’re nearly about to cry in front of a near stranger, but he makes you feel so comfortable, you ache for him to hold you in his arms. “It’s been rough, yes. I should not go on here…” You notice people looking, so you ease back your hand reluctantly. “I’m afraid as Duchess I’m highly watched, and don’t get the luxury of parading mistresses.”

“What? Mistresses… oh. Fuck.” He huffs those words then, and tilts his head, and you begin to join his walk. “I know some areas that are not so busy, I live just a block from here.”

“That would be nice, thank you Sir.” His arm brushes against yours as you all walk, and you remember dancing in his arms that night. “I’m so surprised you remember me.”

“I’m more so surprised, my Lady. Or… your Grace now is it?”

“You don’t need to call me all that, please.” He hears the pain in your voice, his hazel gaze taking you in seriously as you continue to walk together, the gentle breeze blowing your bonnet nearly off. It starts to fly and you catch it, giggling breathlessly, and Nanami pauses, taking it fully off.

“I cannot even say how beautiful you are, even moreso than before. Surely the Duke would have me whipped, hmm?”

“No, actually, it’s an odd situation. He cares nothing for me.”

“Even if you…”

“No, even then. You know, I was seventeen then, Sir.” You tease, gently pushing his hard chest with two fingers, making him flush even more on those high cheekbones.

He grimaces at that. “Oh gods, were you?”

“I turned eighteen the next week, but yes I was just a girl then. How old are you, Mr. Nanami?”

“Twenty seven. I am a tired twenty seven.”

You roll your eyes. “Just six years, silly man.” He is still holding your bonnet, and he awkwardly hands it back to you, smiling apologetically. Your fingers brush, and you both pause then, it’s like little shocks run through you, you gasp a bit as you gently take it from him. “I hear daily I’m intolerable, so you have free range to speak. It’s quite nice to hear.

“Noble men seem to think they can do whatever they wish, I'm afraid. How are you not enough?”

Mr. Nanami’s words make your palms sweat, as you feel his nearness, the heat from his body as you walk next to him, to where the crowds were more dispersed. It was a little warm out as well, the sun shining on his golden skin, making it glow, as you all stand far too close, and you enjoy it so much you’d feel bad, if your husband wasn’t Satoru Gojo.

“He does not… we do nothing. It’s simply only his mistresses. So it’s not that I’m not enough, it’s that I don’t exist in that way at all.”

“What!?” He pauses again, raising a light brow, and you hesitate, looking down, where he has the most ludicrous tie on. You briefly imagine pulling it, pulling him down… what is wrong with you?

“I’m disgusting to him. So.” You hate the emotion choking your throat, he’s scowling down now, and you’re far too close. “It’s a long story, but it was arranged, and he did not want me.”

“So he doesn’t want the most beautiful woman in London?” You blush furiously, shaking your head a bit. “So who does he expect? There’s no lovelier.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but… it matters naught. It’s lonely, loveless, and I am stuck in it. I do wish we met sooner, but my parents…”

“Surely there are things to be done, even with a Duke. If you’ve done nothing, an annulment is possible. My good friend is a lawyer, perhaps I could ask discreetly?”

You tilt your head to look up at him curiously. “Why would you help me? You don’t know me.”

“Why wouldn’t I help a pretty damsel in distress, hmm?” You smile up at him, with watery eyes, and watch him suck in a breath as he studies you.

“Are you a knight in shining armor, Mr. Nanami?” You whisper, he bows then at the waist, peeking up at you and making you melt.

“For you, darling, anything.”

Fuck.

“Anything, hmm?” You both walk down the trail to the park, where it’s quiet this time of day, grassy knolls and beautiful lush flowers bloom. It fills you with an odd peace your soul has been so lacking.

“I imagine any man would offer the same. Except for your…” He trails off, as if he does not want to say his name, to say you’re married.

“The Duke.” You say softly. He sighs.

“Mmm. I’ve heard he’s a rather immature, foolish man. But to be so… such an imbecile. Is mind boggling.”

“He’s cruel to me.” You both keep walking, you’re walking with a stranger practically, but you feel more comfortable than you have since you’ve been stuck with your husband. His words still make your heart ache.

Wish you didn’t exist.

“Has he… hurt you?” Nanami pauses you, in a field surrounded by willow trees, casting blissful shadows across you both, shade from the warm sun. You lick your lower lip when he caresses your cheek gently, before pausing. “I’m sorry I should not be so bold…”

“No, please don’t stop, it feels good.” You put his hand back, your breasts rising and falling with each breath in your bodice, drawing his gaze for just a moment, before he respectfully looks back into your eyes. You’re holding his hand on your face, falling apart inside. “Not physically really. His words are the knives that twist in my chest.”

“You don’t deserve that. This sadness in your eyes… It's heartbreaking when I think of you a few years ago, glittering eyes and a beautiful grin.” You gulp a bit, stepping closer, inhaling the scent of him, like warm sandalwood.

“I wanted so badly to see you again.” You admit, lashes fluttering as you study his strong chest in this light blue dress shirt, it looks so broad and strong, your fingers itch to touch it.

“I’m not in your social circle, I’m a mere businessman. Who partakes in boxing at times.” You brush your thumb across his knuckles, calloused and scarred.

“I can tell you know how to use your hands.” He blushes then, and you blink a bit. “Was that bad to say?”

“Forgive me but… how much have you done?”

“Oh… nothing. A kiss. The duke said he will not lay with me.” Nanami takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair now.

“Using hands… it made me think about things I should not. Touching you.” His husky whisper makes your tummy clench with… is this desire?

“Oh.” Your voice is a breathy whisper. “I’ve seen him with his mistress, um her… riding him. So I've seen sex.”

His hazel eyes widen. “You’ve seen it!? Him with her?”

“Well yes, he doesn’t hide it. She’s always around.”

His jaw clenches, and you watch a vein popping out of his strong neck, you errantly trail a fingertip down it, making him tense even more, his free hand now on the nip of your waist. “I hate this for you. I’ll try to help, if I can.”

“For now, I will be stuck in this, and all I can think of is how good I’d feel in your arms. It’s very scandalous of me. Isn’t it?” He blinks then, lowering his face until you’re so close.

“No, it’s not scandalous to want affection. I’d say that makes you human. But would this hurt you? Would he hurt you for it?” He’s pressing you back gently, until your back is against a thick oak tree. You can’t stop the little whine that escapes the back of your throat as your own hands slide around his thick waist.

“I would not reveal who you are. But I’ve told him I will have someone find me beautiful, the first person to see me, not grotesque or… passable.”

He scoffs then, his hand sliding up the side of your breast, pressing just so, and your head falls back, as you can taste coffee on his breath. “He should not get to see your beauty. So does my darling simply want a hug from me, or does she wish for something else?”

“Your darling, hmm?” He smirks a bit, his eyes growing lidded with desire, as his hard body pressed against yours.

“Do you know how many dreams you’ve occupied? Running away from me and cursing like a man.” You giggle, brightly, and he laughs with you softly, your breaths intermingling together. Would you truly kiss two men in two days, and neither of them are your husband? “That was the grin.”

“It’s easy to forget the world with you, it was that night as well. You have no clue the awful week I’d had before we danced.” You run your hand up and down his chest, over the silky tie, fingers itching to pull him in.

“I’m glad to look upon this face again. I thought you were a dream.”

“I may have… seen you in my dream too.”

“I’m not so worthy.” You shake your head, eyes drinking him in slowly.

“You’re a very handsome man, Nanami Kento. Would it hurt you to… to kiss someone that can’t fully be yours though?”

“I’d suffer any sort of pain for a chance at you.”

“You go on too much.” You tiptoe then, pulling his tie, and one hand braces by your head on the tree, the other sliding down your back, making your nipples go taut against your bodice.

“So use your words, darling, let me know what you want?” You bite your lip at his sultry words, as you feel yourself back at that night, in his arms.

“A kiss, mysterious man. You owed me one.” He exhales then, pressing you further against the hard wood of the tree, and his lips descending on yours, so gentle and sweet, a featherlight touch that ignites something inside of you.

You whimper into his lips, and he moans, opening them then, and sliding his tongue inside, you press yours against his, in a back and forth dance, swirling around each other. Your teeth click as the kiss deepens, and now his hands are both on your little waist, overtaking it, burning through your corset, through your dress, fuck his touch feels so good, you’re leaning up for more.

Your hands enwrap in his silky hair, messing the perfect set of it up, then he shocks you, picking you up, just dangling you off the ground, you squeak a bit and he pulls back, hungry eyes, his face stark with hunger, mirroring your own. He eases you down, sliding on his hard body, and you cling tightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Imagine this pretty face cumming.” He whispers, and you are blushing as you don’t fully understand.

“Um… what is that, Mr. Nanami?” He pales a bit, sighing and cupping your face now, his free hand sliding down your hip now, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

“I’ll surely go to hell for not just you being married, but so innocent. Corrupting one as such seems a one way ticket to hell.” You giggle again, though he’s serious, glaring a bit at you. You kiss him once more, enjoying the sigh he makes.

“Explain, Sir. An order from your Duchess.” You tease, and he rolls his eyes a bit, stepping back to look at you.

“Cumming… or climaxing, it’s pleasure. For you.” He murmurs, his gaze glinting green in this light now, licking that glossy lower lip now. Your tummy clenches again, and now you feel heat… between your thighs, making you look down nervously. “Am I saying too much?”

“It’s having an odd effect. Um. Here.” You take his hand, gliding it down to your lower tummy, watching his eyes dilate, so dark as his cheeks hollow with him sucking in a breath.

“That would be desire. Is this a… first?” You nod nervously, furiously blushing now.

“To this extent yes. It’s spreading lower.”

“Going to hell for this.” You are curious but he’s back to kissing you again, and now his hand is sliding to your breasts, and he yanks your bodice down, making you gasp as he peers at the breasts that have spilled. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

“I… um… Nanami?” He’s cupping them, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels, him squishing them so gently in big hands. “Nanami!”

“Perfect. May I?” You look down curiously, as he’s sitting now, pulling you onto his lap, straddling him obscenely. You’re a mess of emotions and desire, as he kisses down your collarbone. “May I kiss them, darling?”

“Oh, you want to?”

“I’m dying to.”

“Yes, you may. Ah!” You gasp in pleasure then, as you’re feeling something hard against where you’re so eager, that apex of your thighs. You grind on it, moaning at the friction, and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth, it feels so good you get wet down there. “Oh no!”

“What, darling?” He asks softly, and you feel so embarrassed, looking down. “You’re so hot there.”

“It’s wet. Is that…”

“Fuck you are killing me.” He’s pressing your hips down further, and you whine out in pleasure at the friction, as he’s sucking another nipple in his hot mouth. Your body is reacting so hard to it all, your head falling back, and you’re moaning loudly now. “Wet is very good, darling. But… you’re quite loud.”

“Is that bad?” He chuckles, pulling your top up, shaking his head.

“Not if we weren’t outside. Perhaps… alone.”

“Let’s do that?”

“You’re so eager for that, hmm?” You nod, and he is kissing you again, leaning up and moaning, hands trembling against your hips. “Are you sure? Do you have so much time?”

“Does it last long?”

“Pleasuring you yes. I am thinking of too many ways currently.” You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself.

“What are the ways? Mmh.”

“Those noises you make, gods.” He kisses down your throat, wrapping arms around you. “I’m dreaming.”

“I am.” He chuckles against your collarbone, tickling it, your hands cling to his broad shoulders. “It’s like my woes faded for a few moments.” You say sadly then, as you come to the realization of just what you’re doing. It hits hard, how easily you fall into this man’s arms.

“I could please you with my fingers, with my mouth, or both. To start.” You bite your lower lip, as you grow impossibly wetter against him. “But we’ve done a lot, and I don’t want to overwhelm you, when you’re so upset already.”

He is correct, you’re acting on instinct, there is no… thoughts here.

You were Gojo’s wife.

Would you be as bad as him if you go further?

“I’ll let you know where my apartments are, then you decide what you want. And darling, I’ll give it to you.” You feel tears flowing then, and he swipes them away, kissing on your cheeks.

“You mean make love?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that. No, I would please you.”

“What if I ask so sweetly?” He chuckles, and taps your nose, shaking his head at you as he eases you up to stand, holding your hands.

“You cuss and are so wanton, hmm?”

“I suppose I’m not so ladylike.”

“You’re very much a Lady.” He kisses you again, gently once more, brushing his lips over yours. “I will make some inquiries quietly, if you so decide to try.”

“I’m afraid it will be no option but it surely won't hurt. I am so very glad we met again. You’ve made me so happy.”

“I didn’t make you cum though.” You are a mess at that, and he’s smirking at you. “You’re too adorable to tease.”

“Sir!” He kisses you again and again, until you both get heated again. “What if I stay so quiet?”

“Can you even? If you’re so loud from kissing?”

“Hush, Sir.” You stick your tongue out, making him chuckle, then you hastily get yourself together, as you all head back to town. When you’re by your carriage you dread what awaits you at home. “I hope to see you again, Sir.”

“I ache to see you again, darling.” He kisses your hand once more, helping you up into the carriage, and your heart is still pounding as you ride off, covering your face and struggling to not rip your damn corset off. You’re so wet between your thighs you reach your finger down scandolously, up your skirts, finding sticky wetness glistening on your fingers.

Fuck.

You’ve never felt like this, Suguru’s kiss and unfortunately Satoru’s touches had felt a bit of that pressure, but Nanami has wrecked you. The way he touched you, kissed you, the way he looked at you. With adoration, the whispers of his sweet words tickle your ears still. You run your finger down your lips of your sex, shivering at how sensitive you are.

You’ve never touched yourself.

You’ve kissed two men in two days, now you play with yourself in a carriage, you don’t even know yourself… but fuck if it didn’t feel good, to lose yourself in his arms, and fuck if you weren’t tempted to see him again. He’d seen your breasts, which were now firmly back in your bodice, but you can see the little red marks left from his bites, from him sucking on them.

Your heart is going to burst from your chest, as you walk into your home then, and Satoru is moaning, you hear it clear as day. You tense a bit, because it sounds too loud to be far away, then he’s right there, bending over some other mistress, right on the dining room table. When he hears you he pauses, looking back and you’re getting a view of his entire ass, and someone’s thighs.

“Really, on the table?” You demand then, and he rolls his eyes, as the mistress squeals, pulling back and covering up. “Where’s Catherine?”

“She said she couldn’t any longer because you’re too nice and she feels horrible.” He adjusts himself, but not before you get an eye full of his… very large cock, huge and curved with a pink tip. You feel an odd hit again in your tummy, but it mixes with disgust as you realize where it had just been.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be as nice.” You say, and he scoffs, as you walk past now, yanking off the table cloth, not moving a single thing on it with the movement. Satoru’s blue eyes get wide in shock when you shove it into the mistress’ arms, a little brunette girl. “Have those cleaned you little chit, understood? I’ll not have you soiling such fine linen.”

She sputters, then runs off, nodding. Satoru smirks, surprising you then, you figured he’d be irritated, but he saunters to you, his dress shirt wide open, tie hanging loose now. You feel such disgust from him, clearly covered in her, red lipstick all over his throat.

“Do it in your chambers. Could you at least give me that kindness?”

“You don’t enjoy to watch? You don’t picture yourself there?” He presses you against the table now and you smirk up at him.

“Oh, not with you I don’t.”

His thin white brows lower, as he takes you in now. Your hair is loose and flowing, and you have red marks all over your breasts, earning a full fucking scowl. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Just kissing, don’t worry. But… I got so wet, now I know what you meant that night, Duke.” You put a hand on his chest, and feel his heart race under your palm, his chest heaving as his blue eyes bore into your face.

“Wet?”

“Mmhmm. Soaking wet.” He shuts his eyes, sucking in a breath and looking away, hands clenching the table on either side of you so tightly you would think he’d break the wood. “I wasn’t that night. How could I be? Smacking doesn’t have that effect.”

“Yes well you would have been if I’d touched you.” He leans in closer, a breath away, and you just continue to smile, batting your eyelashes.

“You never will, so no matter. But I don’t think so. I think I enjoy…” You shove at him, making him step back. “Rougher hands.”

“Rougher hands!?” You giggle now, and he glares. “You’re in a good fucking mood. Ice princess can laugh?”

“I can when not being told not to exist. When not walking in on some whore screaming your name.”

“Oh whores are they, and you?”

“I’m a lady who has a terrible fucking husband. For now.”

“For now!?” You walk away now as he stumbles back, but he follows you, as you glide up the stairs, humming. “What does that mean?”

“No sex, no marriage really. So we’ll have an annulment. But we’ll give it some time for now, perhaps a year, so that you can keep ahold of that dowry.” He’s following you up each step, until he’s pinning you against the wall, but he doesn’t scare you, you see him losing it.

“So what we have sex? Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Oh no, I’m glad we don’t. I can’t wait for my first time to be special. Oh I hear my breasts are beautiful by the way.” You tap his chin with a finger, grinning, and he is huffing now, one hand entangling in your hair, the other sliding to your bodice.

“Men say anything to get under a lady’s skirts.”

“Mmm, maybe so. But it was nice to hear. Don’t worry, I won’t ask your opinion, I see who you fuck and… it’s nothing like me, is it?”

“You assume they’re that nice? Show me then. All talk.” You raise a brow, and he is fingering the lace of your bodice.

“I’m unnatractive to you, what’s it matter? But sure, Duke, you can untie my corset and let me know your nasty opinion.” You rush into your room and he’s following you, overheated as he unties you at a stupidly fast pace.

“Let me guess, he sucked on those perky nipples?” He whispers, yanking your corset off harshly, and you tilt your head curiously, feeling the chill of the room when he’s yanked it off fully. You take off your bodice, turning in just your shift then, hands on your strips as his gaze is…

Hungry?

No.

Psychotic.

“Perky hmm? Yes, he did, and it felt so good. Well, here…” You slide your shift down to your waist, looking down as you wait for his nasty comments. He says nothing, but you hear him bump into your nightstand. You look at him curiously, as his mouth is slack open, staring at them openly. “Go on, make your insults.”

He just stares, and it’s… odd, your nipples are hard from the chill of the room, as your lush breasts sway slightly when you shift from one leg to the other. You sigh, rolling your eyes then, and covering yourself back up, as he’s still sputtering, and he comes to grip your wrists now, in a tight, bruising grip, bringing your attention to his face once more.

“Say it, your Grace. Passable? Or grotesque?” You whisper, and he leans down now, until his lips are far too close, making you want to simultaneously recoil and lean closer.

You hate this man.

“They’re perfect.” He says softly, and you do back away then, with shocked eyes, as he gulps, clearing his throat, blue eyes lingering down to where your breasts nearly hang out in your shift.

“You jest with me, of course. I know you don’t-”

“They’re fucking perfect.” He says again, then he lets you go, and you feel the very room close in on you.

“As nice as the little slut you’re fucking now?” You quip, angrily, and he rakes a hand through his hair, looking down, his abdomen flexing as he moves back. “Catherine was prettier.”

“Jesus fucking…” You look down then, and notice it… the huge bulge in his pants, and you blink a bit in confusion, looking back up at him again. His face looks tortured.

“Well thanks for saying one nice thing about me. That is… surprising.” You mumble then. “It looks like you’re wanting to finish fucking that girl though.”

“Blasted you’re stupid.”

“Me stupid?”

“Stupid.” He pulls you against him then, so you shove at him now, glaring up at him. “What, I cannot touch you?”

“We don’t do that. And thank you for that, because I get to have true pleasure, and not some forced formality.”

He searches your face then. “Did you cum?”

“Did I… no… what’s it your business!?” You demand heatedly.

“You’re my wife.” Those words are so meaningless, where you once hoped to have meaning, it makes you laugh then, losing it, there was no longer composure.

“You wanted this, to do nothing with me, and guess what, I want that too. You smell like her cheap perfume, you’re covered in her wetness, you think I want you?” You ask, and he grips tighter, scowling at you.

“You think I said I wanted you? For nice tits?” Ah, there it is.

“No, I don’t, that’s why I found someone who does. Works out, doesn’t it, dear husband. Now go on, you have whores to fuck. Hop to it Duke.”

“Hop to it… you insolent little…” You’re just giggling, and he’s not glaring, it’s like he’s confused who you are.

“I see why you’re always fucking, even kissing does put me in quite a happy little mood.” You tap his cheek now, earning another grip on your wrists. “Not kissing you though, that was horrible.”

“I didn’t try to kiss you.” He whispers, lingering close once more. You ignore the flutter of your pulse at your throat. “I never wanted to kiss you.”

“That’s for the best. I’ve lost my appetite after seeing her on that table, so I won’t eat tonight. Best for you I imagine.” He glares now.

“I will have it sent to your room.”

“No need.”

“You’ll eat.” He commands through gritted teeth, and you just blink at him in confusion.

“If you wish, dear husband.” He stomps away then, slamming your door, and you can’t help but smile. You’d gotten under his fucking skin, and you got to kiss sweet Nanami Kento.

Gojo does send up food for you, he’s very confusing, isn’t he? You nibble carefully, hearing him louder than ever in the room next to you. You sigh in annoyance, but when Nanami enters your mind, you smile, you feel warmth radiating through you. It could be hopeless, but it was such a beautiful feeling you were thriving from it.

Unfortunately, instead of Nanami, it’s your rather horrid husband that is under that tree with you, that’s sucking under your breasts, with his blue eyes looking lustfully up at you, his perfect cheeks hollowed as he grinds his length against where you’re so wet. You hate it, that even in your dreams you cannot escape him, and you hate it more when he’s bending you over that table.

That Goddamn Duke.

You hate him.

[yeostinys]

My Dear Darling

Chapter 1

Pairing: Frat OT8!ATEEZ x Female Reader

Genre: Eventual Smut 18+, Fluff, Angst, Polyamorous Relationship!

Notes: NonIdol!AU, CollegeAU. Alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking, Explicit language. Polyamorous Relationship, (if you are not into that just pls ignore).

Word Count: 3.4k

Synopsis: It’s your last year in university and everything seems normal until one night at a party you are approached by a fraternity that seems like they are up to no good.

Author’s note: This is pure imagination and in no way depicts any characters in real life. If you do not like this type of content please ignore :)

——————————————

Jia: “Are you coming over later?”

Y/N: “I’m not sure. I’m kind of partied out”

Jia: “Oh please Y/N . you flaked on the last 2 parties i mentioned!”

Y/N: “You make me sound like a bore Jia.”

Jia: “That’s not what i’m trying to say!! You have been locked up in your apartment and the library forever! are you punishing yourself?”

Y/N: “It’s our last year in University Jia! I want to preform well on exams!”

Jia: “Y/N, you are literally one of the top students in our university. You’ve been doing well! Now, as my best friend it’s your duty to come to MY party, that IM hosting. Pleaseeee for meeeee”

Y/N: “ughhhh fine i’ll be there”

Jia: “YAYY! I’LL SEE YOU LATER!”

-

Arriving at Jia’s , you are greeted with hugs from familiar faces around campus.

“Y/N~! You’re hereeeee!” Jia exclaims as she hands you a hard seltzer, she already seems a few shots away from being drunk. You laugh at your friend and take the drink in your hands.

“Alright everyone! Three gulps! Thank you all for coming!!” Jia screams as everyone in the house cheers. You take three gulps with ease and feel the burning alcohol run down your throat. The night begins with loud music playing through the house, people cheering and screaming as they play various drinking games, couples making out, you name it.

Within an hour of you here, Jia has ran off with her situationship, she’s currently shoved into a corner making out. You however moved outside to sit by the fire pit along with the rest of your closest girl friends. You’re laughing with everyone talking about various topics, while sipping your alcohol infused drinks. Trying to embrace the positive atmosphere around you.

“Hey Y/N” a voice lingers in your ears.

You look up and meet eyes with a familiar handsome face.

“Hey Wooyoung, what’s up?” you smile at him. Wooyoung is a very well known member of the fraternity ATZ with a reputation of being the biggest flirt ever.

“Nothing much. I however wanted to get your number” Wooyoung is direct. He’s now sitting next to you and slings his arm over your shoulders.

“And why is that?” you raise your eyebrow at him.

“Does there need to be a reason why? I just want to get to know you more” Wooyoung smirks as he brushes a hair strand out of your face. You roll your eyes unimpressed. You can hear giggles from the girls around you as they try to carry on their conversations, trying to not make it obvious that they’re eavesdropping.

“No thanks Woo. however, you can talk to one of your many girls on your line” you smile at him sarcastically.

“But what if I don’t want any of those girls?” Wooyoung pouts at you. You scoff and take a swig of the hard seltzer in your hand.

“Bye Woo” you say as you turn back to talk to your friends. Wooyoung smirks and drops his head down. He gets up swiftly and turns to you one last time

“Alright no worries. I’ll see you around pretty”. Wooyoung walks away and you make eye contact with your giggling friends around you.

“Y/N omg! he was totally into you!” Mina exclaims grabbing onto your shoulder.

“Oh please, Wooyoung is into everyone.” you say as you laugh with everyone.

A few moments later you feel another body plop down next to you.

“Hey there Y/N-ah~”

You turn to look person next to you and you release a sigh.

“Hi there Mingi” You smile politely at him, trying to hide your annoyance. Another.. boy from ATZ. It is a well known fact that Mingi is one of the hottest boys in school. You even agree to that statement. But why is he here? and Why was Wooyoung just here a few minutes before him?

“What can I do for you Mingi?” you ask in a sarcastic manner.

“Funny that you ask sweetheart. Wanna go over there for a smoke?” Mingi smirks, eying you up and down.

“I don’t smoke” you say firmly.

“Then i’ll stop smoking for you. How about a shot together?” He asks holding out a hand.

“I already have a drink right here thanks though Min” You giggle at his efforts.

“Why playing so hard to get Y/N-ah?” Mingi sighs as he rests his head on his fist propped up by his elbow.

“I’m not playing anything Mingi.”

“How about your number then?” Mingi tries you one last time. You look at Mingi in an amused but confused face. Why is he suddenly interested in you? Mingi has a pool of fan girls who are quite aggressive whenever he’s seen with a fellow female alone. Not wanting to get caught in his fire you reply to him,

“I don’t think so Min, but It was nice seeing you” you smile at him one last time before waving him off.

All Mingi can do is laugh and wink at you as he leaves you be with your friends.

“seriously what is going on with that frat?” Harin laughs. The girls around you continue to talk as some move in and out of the circle.

**30 minutes later**

“Miss Y/N~”

You turn your face to see a close classmate of yours.

“Mister Jongho~” you smile as he sits next to you.

“Y/N, I was wondering-“

“Cut the crap Jongho. What are you and ATZ planning” you cut him off.

Jongho laughs and throws his hands up as if he’s just been stopped by the cops.

“Woah woah, what do you mean Pretty?” Jongho chuckles at you.

“You and two other people from ATZ have been bothering me. You’re up to something” you raise an eyebrow at him.

You’re quite comfortable with Jongho. you’ve been seeing him everyday this past semester in a shared class. He’s a nice person, often gossips with you and shares all the recent news going around campus. A bonus, he’s ridiculously handsome.

“Alrrigghhhtt alright. Y/N i’ll tell you if… you give me your number”. Jongho smirks at you

“Jongho, we have one class together everyday. why are you barely asking for my number now?” You ask.

“What if i want your number to ask how you’re doing through out the weekend?” He asks with doe eyes.

“oh please Jongho . don’t make me hate you” you roll your eyes and sigh.

“fine fine~ . Just a warning this isn’t going to end Y/N” Jongho stands up and begins to walk away

“Wait! aren’t you going to tell me-“ Jongho shakes his head no and disappears.

You turn towards your friends in shock and get up from your seat.

“Alright.. well i’m going to go inside to get water” you say

“I’ll come with you Y/N!” “Me too!” Mina and Harin follow you as the rest of the girls wave you off.

Making your way to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water, Mina and Harin find a spot on the couch and catch up with some friends.

“Hey Y/N”

You turn and see a tall familiar man smiling at you.

“Hi Yunho” tilting your head looking up at him.

Yunho sighs and speaks, “I’ll just cut the chase. I’m not one to participate in these types of things, but will you give me your number? ATZ made a bet to see who can get your number first.”

You raise an eyebrow at him in shock.

“I know Pretty. I wasn’t for it either. you know i wouldn’t do stuff like this, especially to you. but help a friend out yeah?” Yunho explains.

He looks genuine confessing this to you. To be honest, you believe him. You and Yunho worked in the university library together every summer and built a mutual friendship. You can’t lie that you find Yunho very attractive, to be honest you were shocked when you first found out he was in a fraternity, he didn’t seem the as the stereotypical frat boy type. You take a few moments to reply, deeply appreciating that he has told you the truth behind ATZ’s scheme. so in return…

You sighed and rolled your eyes,

“If i give you my number what happens?”

“I won’t be embarrassed when i walk back to my friends.” Yunho give you a cheeky smiles

“Seriously? So this is just an ego thing?” You cross your arms uninterested.

“Y/N please. does there really need to be a motive. You are hot! lots of guys would kill for your number let alone your attention. The guys are buzzed right now and it just kind of happened.” Yunho explains.

“Fine.” you hold out your hand waiting for Yunho’s phone.

“Oh you’re a doll Y/N. thank you” Yunho says as he scrambles to take out his phone. You type in your number and shoo him off.

Walking out of the kitchen and making your way back to the couch you hear ATZ cheering and shouting at Yunho in shock and slight jealousy. You advert your attention back to your friends. “What took you so long?” Mina asked.

“I was talking with Yunho in the kitchen” you say casually.

“Mina! Harin! come here!!” One of the girls from outside are hollering them over . Mina and Harin scurry over with no questions leaving you on the couch with others watching people compete in beer pong. You feel a buzz in your pocket and you take out your phone to check a notification

Unknown: Yuyu’s #. You’re a life saver. I owe you!

You scoff at the nickname and save Yunho’s number to your cell.

“Is this seat taken?”

You turn your head to see yet another member from ATZ. A familiar face to you, but you’ve never really spoken to him. Just small encounters here and there at other parties.

“No it’s not.” you say shortly.

“I’m Seonghwa.” The man smiles at you softly. You can’t lie. This man is gorgeous. You smile back at him,

“I’m Y/N” You replied.

“I know” Seonghwa says with a smirk. You tilt your head in confusion.

“You know?” you say sarcastically, trying to play along.

“Well not technically. But I would like to get to know you though. How about your number?” Seonghwa asked tilting his head the same direction as yours. You scoff and laugh at his smooth come back.

“Why are you suddenly interested in my number Seonghwa?” you ask leaning into the couch.

“Well hot people should stay in touch together. Wouldn’t you agree Y/N?” Seonghwa says smirking.

“Not quite.” you roll your eyes and laugh.

“It was nice meeting you though, Seonghwa, I have to go check up on a friend now”. You get up from the couch and begin to search for Jia. You should actually check up on her, she’s been unseen for a while now.

Walking upstairs you move towards her room. Before twisting the door knob open, you hear moans. You stop your tracks and back up slowly.

(Welp, she seems fine) you say to yourself.

Walking back downstairs, you are stopped midway by a muscular figure. You look up and meet eyes with an angelic face.

“Oh Hey Y/N” the man smiles at you.

“Hi Yeosang” you smile back, mentally punching yourself for basically running into all of the ATZ members (more like they are running to you).

“What are you doing up here pretty?” Yeosang asks eying you up and down.

“Just checking up on Jia” you reply

“I saw her run off with Wonho a few hours ago. they looked like they were going to jump each other’s skins?” Yeosang chuckles.

“Yeah.. i’m sure they did” You confirm laughing with him.

“Y/N-ah, We should hang out sometime. We haven’t talked since last semester.” Yeosang is looking at you with a mesmerizing gaze that’s quite intoxicating.

“So suddenly?” you tease.

“Well why not, we had a great time studying for months in the library together don’t you agree?” Yeosang smirks.

“Can I have your number Please Y/N?” Yeosang pouts. You blush at his pretty face “Only because you’re pretty and you don’t annoy me like the others. i know what you and ATZ are up to” you say as you grab his phone from his hand.

“Who snitched!” Yeosang groans.

“Yuyu” You both laugh at the nickname as you dial your number in his phone and let it ring. Your phone begins to buzz and Yeosang’s number pops up on your phone. Yeosang smiles and ruffles your hair.

“You’re such an Angel Y/N” Yeosang doesn’t break his gaze off of you as you walk away from him.

You make your way back to Mina and Harin who are outside taking shots.

“Y/N!!! Let’s take a shot!” Mina catches your eyes and drag you towards the outside bar. “Mina! i can’t drink anymoreee~” you laughing at her drunk state. Mina whines and runs off to Harin who is trying to escape from taking another shot “Yah! Harin, come back!!” You laugh as you take a seat at the bar.

“Hey there”

You hear a voice near you. You turn and look at the person next to you. You mentally curse.

“Hi” you reply trying to be uninterested. Another fellow member from ATZ has approached you once again. However you’re shocked to see it’s the Frat president “My name’s Hongjoong. yours?” the man holds out his hand in a greeting. You smirk and take his hand.

“Hi Hongjoong. I’m Y/N”

“What a pretty name. wanna head back to my place? it’s getting crowded here don’t you think?” Hongjoong leans in closer to your face and smiles at you. Fuck, you say to yourself. His smiling is intoxicating and his facial features are so perfect. You try to snap yourself back into reality.

“I’m okay. I’d rather go back to my own home” You say as you begin to walk away.

Hongjoong follows next to you.

“oh to your place? I don’t mind that either. I was just trying to be polite” Hongjoong chuckles and stops in front of you to keep you from running off.

“You know that’s not what i meant Hongjoong” you say rolling your eyes.

“Then explain to me what you meant Y/N” Hongjoong teases.

“I’m not interested Hongjoong” you laugh. “But Here, i’ll save you the trouble” You take out your phone and hand it to Hongjoong. He cocks an eyebrow at you and smirks. He grabs your phone and inputs his number. He names his contact “Captain Hongjoong”. Hongjoong rings his number and shows you his phone screen as your number pops up. You scoff at him and retrieve your phone.

“I’ll see you around captain” you wave him off as you walk towards the house. Your social battery began to die with the consistent interactions, even though you can’t deny it was entertaining. However, you want to go home. You send a quick message to Jia that you’re heading out and begin to make your way towards the house exit. You take out your phone to call an uber as you sit on the front porch. You are slightly sobering up as you wait.

“Y/N. Leaving so soon?”

you turn your head and see a familiar face. Choi San. A person you quite despise.

“Yeah I called an uber” You say as you avoid eye contact with him.

You can’t quite remember why you and San hate each other. You two used to be friends, childhood friends actually. However once High school started you both drifted away into your own cliques and grew apart with a habit of hatred mixed with a teasing tension (mainly from San).

San sits next to you and looks at the night sky.

“How have you been Y/N?” San asks calmly

“Why do you care San.” you say a bit too snappy.

San looks unphased .

“What’s up with the attitude Y/N-ie” San teases. You turn to San and look at him with a stern face.

“San I know the bullshit you and ATZ are pulling.” You say.

“If you know, then why did you give into Yunho, Yeosang, and Hongjoong?” San raises an eyebrow at you.

“Because I know them and-“

“You’ve never spoken to Hongjoong.”

“You know what I don’t owe you an explanation to who I give my number to or who I show interest in. We haven’t spoke since high school, so don’t start acting interested in my life now” You bite back.

“Ouch You dont have to be like that Y/N-ie” . Having enough, you get up quickly and begin to walk away.

“My uber is here.”

Finally fleaing the party you make your way up to your apartment studio. You strip off your clothes and fall onto your bed. Your phone buzzes a few times. You glance at your phone and see a notification from Hongjoong.

Captain Hongjoong: “Hey pretty, let’s meet up tomorrow”

You don’t care to open the chat at the moment. So you toss your phone down and try to fall into a deep sleep, exhausted from the alcohol and various conversations from today.

~~

Yuyu: Hi Y/N-ie, wyd today? Let’s hang out!

You groan in annoyance as you stare at your notification bars. You haven’t opened any messages from last night or this morning. Mainly spams from Mina and Jia. Plus… the two messages from Hongjoong and now Yunho. You hesitate before responding to Yunho.

Y/N: What are you guys up to? I thought this was a one time ego boost thing. pls leave me alone.

Yuyu: Y/N if you want the full truth, you have to hang out with me today ;)

Y/N: what do you mean “the full truth”

Yuyu: I can explain if you agree to hang out with meeeeee

Y/N: Well your “Captain” messaged me about hanging out as well. Do I ditch him for you or are you going to get buried alive?

Yuyu: Lol, don’t worry about him. So yes or no?

Y/N: Fine. send the address.

Yuyu: Perfect, i’ll see you later Y/N!

You start to regret your life decisions as you walk out your apartment and head towards the address Yunho sent you. Looking at the address on Maps you realize , you are meeting Yunho at the ATZ Frat house. You sign in frustration and contemplate if you should cancel on him last minute with some shitty excuse. However, you’re curious as to why ATZ was so infatuated on you last night.

You arrive to the frat house and ring the door bell. You can hear running footsteps and mumbled voices behind the door as you wait. Finally, the door knob clicks, swings open, and you are met with happy faced Yunho.

“Y/N! YOURE HERE!” Yunho hugs and lifts you off the ground. You freeze in shock and try to hold in your laughter. Yunho puts you down and pulls you inside the frat house. “Welcome to the ATZ House!”

It’s cleaner than you expected. Especially knowing this is a house full of 8 men. Yunho guides you to the living room, where you are met with 6 of the ATZ members sitting on an L shaped couch. San is missing? You freeze your tracks and look towards Yunho.

“Jeong Yunho, you said you’d tell me the full truth” you cross your arms and stare at him intensely.

“Yes yes, WE, will tell you. now Miss Y/N please sit down” Yunho pulls out a chair for you and encourages you to sit down, as he makes his way to sit with the rest of the 6 men.

Hongjoong speaks up first “Y/N, i know you must be confused why we all took interest in you suddenly last night. Now, we’d like to explain ourselves.”

You cock your eyebrow in confusion as you look at all the members present,

“Where’s San? You said all of you guys took interest.” You asked.

“It took some convincing for Sannie, but he unfortunately had to sit out on today’s meeting because he has other…. Fraternity duties to fulfill. Don’t worry though honey he truly does have interest in you” Hongjoong explains.

You’re not convinced that San agreed to whatever this is. Regardless, you sit in silence waiting for further explanation.

“I’ll just get straight to the point. Y/N, we’d like you to be ours.” Hongjoong says blatantly.

You laugh. Out loud.

None of the boys are laughing. They all seem so serious.

“Wait you’re serious?” you ask arms still crossed.

“Yes we are serious.” Yunho chimes in.

“So… be yours as in become the ATZ Sweetheart?” You question.

“Well, yes but not really. Y/N we mean, we want you to be our girlfriend. All 8 of us.“

end of chapter 1….

~

Ahhhh my first series! I hope you all enjoy! please leave comments and suggestions for any improvements, as i am still a new writer 🥹. Leave comments or message me to be part of my TagList for this series! I am hoping to have chapter 2 posted soon!

[theabigailthorn]

I loved Dracula's ex-girlfriend and I love your channel! I wanted to ask you about Alex and his apparent disdain for Fay. Like I understand him resenting her for essentially c0ckblock him in the dessert ordering scene, but he just seems to hate her guts from even before Belladonna show up to the restaurant. Why is that?The movie was amazing and you all look stunning!

I'm so glad you asked because the answer ties into an extremely important job Brandon had in literally the first shot, and he nails it

When the film opens we need the audience to quickly know when and where the story is taking place.

We can see and hear it's a restaurant so we're situated in space but we still need to be situated in time.

The clumsy way to do it would be to have Fay look at a clock and sigh, "Where is she?" But we can do better! Actors are there to serve the text, and Brandon's a great actor so he does it for us!

Alexander's irritated reaction when he flips his notebook shut tells us Fay has been here for a long time i.e. it's late at night.

This is how it looks in the script:

So the reason he dislikes her is she's been sitting here for ages not ordering anything! We set up a little about their relationship, we learn something about Belle (she's late), and we're situated in time.

When Belle finally does arrive Fay orders tap water and a burger - which we can reasonably assume are the cheapest things on the menu. Alexander corrects her: it's not just 'a burger' it's the Oak-smoked California hickory burger, they're not just 'fries' they're organic chipped potatoes twice-cooked in our house spice. Fay asks for ketchup and Alexander is visibly disgusted. We surmise he doesn't think she's classy enough for this restaurant.

[luveline]

can I pls pls pls get an other single dad Spencer I'm on my knees here jade baby! I would love a fic where they r dating and reader comes over and basically Amy is like ur his gf?? But I thought u were my best friend?! And she's upset and reader is just like babe I can be both! Obvs we r bffs! And then May be she asks Spencer if she can take amy out of ice cream or something just the girls

thank you for your request! fem, 1.4k

Peeling Amy’s grapes is a repetitive, calming task. You press your nail to the top of the grape where the stalk had been, carving away a sliver of the fruit as you pinch the skin and pull. It comes away in small, triangular pieces that you put in the bowl on your lap. 

You put the naked grape in Amy’s hand. They’re seedless, so all she has to do is chew. 

“Thank you,” she says, distracted by the TV. 

“You’re welcome.” You move to another grape. 

You’re sitting together on the couch in Spencer’s apartment. Spencer sits at the dining table across the way, writing a letter, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Bright afternoon sunlight ebbs in through the window behind the kitchen sink to kiss his arms and illuminate his workspace, a beam of it catching his arm, his fine hairs like strands of gold. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah?” 

“Are we still going to the library?” 

“Yeah…” His writing gets very fast. He finishes it off with a smile and a resounding period, picking the paper up and folding it in a clean half. “I can post my letter at the same time.” 

You watch him give his hair a vigorous scratching as he stands. “I’m gonna go get a sweater,” he says, making for his bedroom. 

You follow him until he’s gone. Amy hums, kid-talk for please pay attention to me. 

“Oh, sorry. Forgot your grapes.” 

“Why do you look at him like that?” 

You smile shyly. “Uh, like what?” 

Her brown eyes widen as her eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t know. You looked at him for a long time.” 

“I guess I like looking at him, ‘cos I really like him. You’re beautiful because of so many things, but your dad is part of the reason. He’s beautiful, so you’re beautiful.” 

She wrinkles her nose, but she’s smiling. “You really like him?” she whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you whisper back, “he’s my boyfriend.” 

Amy winces hard. “What?” she asks. 

She’s suddenly and emphatically incredulous. You take her hand, but she takes it right back and stands up on the couch. She gives you a weird look as she backs away, sitting heavily on the armrest. “He’s your boyfriend?” 

“Why do you think I’m always here these days?” 

You know you’ve said the complete wrong thing the moment it leaves your mouth. You’re honestly shocked she didn’t know; Amy is a very smart little girl, and you were under the impression she knew about you and her father being a couple. But she’s also just a little girl, with big feelings. 

“I thought you were here to see me,” she says softly. 

You push the bowl of grapes across the coffee table, remorseful. “Amy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I come here to see you, too, of course I do, I love spending time with you.” 

Her eyes fill with tears. She’s not a crocodile crier, at least not when you’re around. You know these to be the genuine deal, and that makes it much worse for you. 

“Babe, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean it like that, I promise. I’m here to see you, too, it’s not just to see your dad.” 

“Because we’re best friends,” she says. 

“Of course we are.” You open your hands. “Of course.” 

She finally takes your hands, despite her tears. Her face has turned dark with a hot flush, embarrassment twisting her lips into an expression that turns your heart. 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you whisper. “Can you forgive me? You’re so important to me, Amanda.” 

Spencer appears behind her looking like a deer caught in bright headlights. You ignore him, giving Amy’s fingers a rolling squeeze. 

“I thought we were best friends– and– and–” She sucks in a shaky breath as a fresh crest of tears fall. “I thought you were here to see me.” 

“I am here to see you.” 

You’ve done loads of things with Amy without Spencer’s involvement. If he sleeps in, you and Amy watch cartoons together in your pyjamas eating breakfast burritos. You’ve babysat her on short notice, you had her for a sleepover once so he could give a talk in Michigan. You and Amy do tons of things without her father, like eating peeled grapes, and jigsaw puzzles while he reads, and girl talk. You cuddle. 

Poor girl. 

“Amy, I love you.” 

“You do?” 

“So much!” You wipe the tears from her chin. 

“I didn’t know that– that dad was your boyfriend,” she says bashfully. 

“Me and your dad started as best friends, that’s why. He’s my second bestest friend ever.” 

“Who’s number one?” she asks. 

You poke her chest gently. “Who do you think?” 

She nods and looks down. She wipes her cheeks, and that’s what upsets you the most in the whole ordeal. Her hands look small and uncoordinated. 

“You okay, angel?” Spencer asks, coming up from behind to hug her. 

“Sorry,” she says. 

“It’s okay. Crying is okay,” he murmurs. “What happened?” 

“I didn’t know you were boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Spencer says, giving her arm a soft up and down, “when I told you we were dating I should’ve been more clear about what that means. I’m very sorry we confused you.” 

“It’s good!” she says, sniffling, pressing a little sob into Spencer’s chest. 

You bite your cheek. You really hadn’t meant to do this to her, just she’s as empathetic as her father. She’s a bubbling mess against him. 

You look at Spencer. It’s your fault, you misspoke, and you’re asking him to save you as a kindness. 

“What’s making you cry, sweetheart?” he whispers, pulling her right into his chest. 

“I just wanted to be her best friend.” 

“You are,” he whispers, nose against her temple, “I might be her boyfriend, but you think she likes me so much she’s here every single weekend? No way. She sees me every day at work, she doesn’t need to come over if all she wants to do is see me. But you know who she doesn’t see at work?” 

“Me…” 

“Exactly. She comes here every weekend to be with you, so we can all be together. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she says, taking in another shaky breath. 

“Are you crying because you’re still upset, or because it’s just a feeling?” he asks softly, slowly. “It’s okay if you’re still sad, but maybe we need to have some water?” 

“Okay,” she says, stretching it into one big cry. 

“Could I give you a hug?” you ask. You’re lost. 

She nods. Spencer says, “Okay, you guys hug and I’ll go get my Amy a glass of water.” 

You fold Amy into an embrace carefully. She’s heavy with her upset but she wants the hug, her arms at your sides as she rubs her nose against your shoulder. “Amy,” You say, taking a pause to brush her hair from her warm neck, “I’m sorry, angel. I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

She sounds just like her dad as she replies. “I didn’t mean to cry.” 

“Well, that’s okay! If I thought you didn’t want to be my friend either I would be just as upset.” 

“You would?” 

“Amy, do you know how much I love seeing you? I would sit here and watch TV and peel grapes with you every day of the week, I’d love to…” You hope Spencer won’t mind what you’re about to suggest. “In fact, maybe you and I need to do more things together, what do you think? When was the last time we went to Penny’s Ice Cream Parlour?” 

She looks up at you with love and apt suspicion. “You just want me to feel better.” 

“Of course I do. I should be allowed to take my favourite girl for ice cream, right?” 

Spencer hesitates in the kitchen with the fairy glass half full. You’re stroking Amy’s hair away from her neck, so sorry, and so lovely. He couldn’t want anything more in life than Amy, but if he got to choose, he would love to have you, and to have you treat her as you are now, nothing but affection in your touch as you soothe her overstimulation. “We can go alone?” Amy asks. 

“Sure, bubby, we can go just you and me. Banana splits?” 

Spencer loves her, but he loves ice cream, too. “Wait, why can’t I come?”

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sink or Swim (NSFW)

AN: Joe girlies I have returned!

Synopsis: After the devastating loss to the Commanders, you knew that a bad mood would be evident with your boyfriend. So his idea of forgetting what happened at least for a few hours has to do with giving you his undivided attention

Requested by @a-moment-captured 💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

There was a look of disbelief on your face as you watched the scene unfold in front of you and saw that the game was almost over when the two minute warning was indicated. The first two weeks in the season obviously had your boyfriend Joe upset and for good reason. But to see the high hopes that he had going into week three just get shot down hurt to watch.

On the sidelines you could see his helmet being thrown as he eventually sat down and the expression on his face was one that you couldn't quite read.

Pulling out your phone, you sent him a quick text knowing that he would read it when he got back to the locker room.

You- Still so proud of you bubs. You played amazing tonight and don't let anyone tell you otherwise 💕

Sighing to yourself, you stood up and began to make your exit out of the stadium to start making your way back to Joe’s condo. It was discussed earlier in the day when you had talked to Joe that you would come over right after the game in anticipation of celebrating with him, but now you weren't so sure if he would even want to be in the mood to have anyone around him right now. After he lost a game, he would understandably get into a mood but you had a feeling that tonight would be a lot worse and more than likely because of who he is, he would be blaming himself.

Climbing into your jeep, you had the radio on a low volume as you pulled out of the stadium parking lot and onto the highway. Joe didn't live very far from the stadium which you were thankful for and leaving before the game was over allowed you to beat some of the traffic that you knew would quickly come after.

Arriving in less than twenty minutes, you turned your car off before grabbing your bag and making your way inside. Your shoes got slipped off at the door as you made your way into the kitchen to find something to snack on since the mozzarella sticks you had at the game were only going to last you but so long.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed it wasn't too late to order a pizza seeing as Joe probably needed some comfort food. You opened up your DoorDash app and quickly ordered it while you waited for Joe to get there. Another 45 minutes had passed with the pizza being kept warm in the oven and you sitting on the couch re-watching Scandal when you heard his key in the door. Once it was opened, it was quickly slammed shut making you jump and the sound was quickly followed by him throwing his bag on the floor at his feet and hearing him sigh.

Still in your jersey from the game that had your boyfriend's name on the back of it, you got up to greet him by the door. His expression was still unreadable when you stood in front of him and slowly tried to take his hands into yours, but he moved away at the last second.

“Bubs….”

Joe didn’t even bother to respond to you as his eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the door.

“What do you need me to do?” You softly asked as you kissed the side of his mouth, trying to get an answer out of him.

When he finally opened his eyes and glanced down at you, his eyes had softened but only slightly as he saw the love of his life in front of him.

“Get upstairs and strip.”

“Mm, gladly. Your wish is my command.”

Nodding your head towards him, he then turned you around to face the stairs as you slowly walked over towards them. Your foot was on the first step when you heard his voice once more.

“You have two minutes to do what I told you, so I suggest you get a move on before I put you there myself.”

Hearing this made a river form in between your thighs and you loved how dominant he could get when the two of you were by yourselves. That happened to be the only good thing that would come out of him losing a game. If this is what he needed to help him get through it, the last thing that you were ever going to do was complain.

Reaching the last step, you still heard him moving around downstairs before you swung the door open to his bedroom which had been left ajar before he left for the game earlier.

Your clothes were then taken off slowly one by one in the hopes of Joe walking in and seeing you. Your shoes had already been thrown off at the door downstairs, the next thing to come off was your jeans that hugged your curves that he loved so much. Next was his jersey and the shirt that you were wearing underneath it in case you got cold. You had started to take off your bra next when you suddenly felt him behind you making you jump. You hadn’t heard him come in as he wrapped his arms around you before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I thought I told you to strip? So, why are you still wearing clothes? You like disobeying me?” He asked you before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“No, I was….”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. Do as you’re told the first time so I don’t have to punish you. Now get the rest of those clothes off.” He told you as a light smack was felt across your ass.

You nodded your head and your bra as well as your black thong were quickly removed from your body and discarded onto the floor all while Joe was standing behind you watching you intensely. Once you were finished, he leaned down to your ear once more before he reached around to put two of his fingers up to your mouth that you slowly started to suck on before reaching down and rubbing small circles along your clit making you gasp.

“Mmm, look how wet my baby is. This all for me?” You nodded your head to answer his question because you knew that words were going to fail to come out of your mouth.

“Get on the bed and you better not make a sound unless I fucking tell you to. Face down, ass up.”

Walking over to the bed once Joe moved his fingers away from your core, you slowly got on the bed with the help of him since the bed was so high and crawled to the top of it as you rested your head down on your arms with your ass sticking high up in the air on display for him.

You could hear Joe behind you doing away with his clothes and in a matter of seconds you felt him crawl onto the bed and roughly grab a hold of your hips before slowly entering you and bottoming out as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

It took everything in you not to let out a gasp and simply put your hand over your mouth as you felt him move out of you before he slammed back in.

His movements were intense and sloppy of course with him letting out his frustrations as you were doing your best to keep quiet. The more he pounded into you, the harder it was becoming and knew that being quiet would only last but so long.

You could feel yourself getting closer to reaching your peak and you soon felt Joe reach underneath of you to massage your clit as he continued to pound into you. This sent you over the edge and you couldn’t help but to let out a small moan but immediately put your hand back over your mouth. But the damage was already done and you tug knew that you would soon be in for it.

“Oooh fuck.”

Hearing this, Joe immediately flipped you over and a hand immediately went around your neck with him squeezing it.

“Did I tell you to fucking speak? I don’t think I did.”

You remained quiet as he let go of your neck as he trailed kisses along it and down your chest with him placing one of your nipples into his mouth as he was rolling the other one between his fingers. It was taking everything in you to stay quiet as your back arched up off of the mattress. His fingers moved on from playing with your nipple to insert two of them into you as he continued to suck on the other one.

Joe noticed that you were squirming and he took it as a sign that you were close and probably frustrated because he told you not to say anything.

“You close baby? I can tell.”

To answer him, you nodded your head as he added another finger making you gasp. His fingers were pumping in and out of you when he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue knowing that it was a matter of seconds before you would come undone in front of him.

“Shiiit!” You couldn’t help but to let out as your hands were directly to his hair to pull him closer to you.

At this point, your legs were wrapped around his neck as he began to suck on your clit making them shake the harder that he did.

“Baby…. I’m….” You started to say, but without warning a gush of liquid was now covering Joe’s face as he was still sucking on your clit making you squirm.

“That’s my good girl. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

You immediately shook your head no, but it was clear that Joe didn’t care since he went right back to sucking on your clit. After you squirted all over his face once more, he quickly crawled back up your body as he inserted himself into you.

His movements were more sloppy than before indicating that he was close as he put your legs onto his shoulders as you began to rub your clit.

You had reached your peak for the third time when you felt Joe slide out of you. Knowing what that meant, you immediately sat up and took him in your mouth as you tasted his cum hitting the back of your throat.

“That’s my pretty girl. You better swallow it and not waste a drop.”

Joe had now put your hair in a makeshift ponytail to get it out of the way since he remembered you one time promptly yelling at him when his cum had gotten in your hair after you had gotten it done just hours before.

Once you swallowed everything that didn’t leak out the side of your mouth, you promptly opened it to show Joe who then leaned down to place several kisses on your lips. Once you had laid back, Joe quickly followed suit with him laying on you as you held him tightly to your chest. It was quiet for a few minutes as both of you were trying to even your breathing when he finally spoke.

“We should have won.”

“I know.”

“And even though it wasn’t my fucking fault, I’m going to get the blame for it.”

“I know.”

“We’re 0 and 3 now and I don’t know what to fucking do.”

“The only thing you can do is to go out there and do your best. You played absolutely amazing tonight so this isn’t on you in the slightest even though people will put it on you anyway. I am still so proud of you and I’m always going to be proud of you.” You told him as you placed a kiss on top of his head.

“Proud of a loser boyfriend who can’t win an NFL game?”

“Joseph… talk about yourself like that again. I dare you. Just because you have a few setbacks doesn’t mean that it’s going to be like this forever. I will let you rant all you want tonight, but tomorrow I’m not having it. You are literally the highest paid quarterback in the NFL and you need to fucking act like it.”

“I... guess you’re right.”

“I know I'm right. It's only been three weeks. There's still time to turn this around for the better and I promise to be here through all of it. But did I perform my duties as your girlfriend to help you let your frustrations out?” You asked and he immediately smirked.

“You did more than help me through it, but I definitely didn't say that we were done.” He told you as he picked his head up off of your chest to look at you.

“Wait, what?”

“Switch places with me so you can ride me.”

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[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake Loves Like Odysseus

If there’s one thing Tim Drake knows, it’s patience. He’s spent his whole life waiting—for approval, for recognition, for love. And when Danny Fenton crashes into his life, wild and untamed like the storm Tim never knew he needed, Tim feels like he’s found the one person who makes the wait worth it.

It’s funny, really. How Tim’s life echoes that of his past. Odysseus had Penelope, his constant, the woman he loved with every part of his being. She was his reason to fight, to survive, to return. And now, in this life, it’s Danny. Danny, who smiles at him like he’s the only person in the room, who pulls Tim in close with his easy laughter and gentle teasing.

Danny is Tim’s Penelope, his anchor in a world of chaos.

Tim doesn’t even realize how much of his past love has bled into this life until he’s sitting next to Danny on the couch one night. Danny’s head is on his shoulder, their hands loosely intertwined, and Tim just knows. This—he—is what he’s been fighting for.

It’s not the missions, or the victories, or even the Bat family’s approval. It’s Danny. He loves Danny with a quiet, fierce devotion, the same way Odysseus loved Penelope, with all the yearning and determination that had kept him alive through countless trials.

Tim would do anything for him.

And it’s not always easy. There are nights when Danny’s off fighting his own battles, and Tim waits, holding his breath, just like Penelope had done for Odysseus all those years ago. He knows what it’s like to wait for the person you love, to wonder if they’ll come back to you. But the thing is, Tim knows Danny will always come back. Just like Odysseus returned to Ithaca, no matter how long the journey or how hard the trials.

And when Danny does come back? When he wraps his arms around Tim, pressing a kiss to his temple, Tim feels that same relief, that same overwhelming love that he remembers Odysseus felt the moment he saw Penelope again.

It’s not just that Tim loves Danny. It’s that he waits for him. Fights for him. Lives for him, with the same depth and determination that had driven Odysseus through years of war and hardship, all for the woman he loved.

Tim may not be Odysseus anymore, not fully, but the love? That kind of love transcends lifetimes.

Because Danny is Tim’s Penelope, and no matter what this life throws at them, Tim will always find his way back to him.