#chaotic reader insert

[noobiestnoober]

Last Minute Leon (Leon X Reader)

When it comes to love, some people write poems. You? You dive headfirst into bioweapon-infested nightmares just to see if Leon S. Kennedy will show up with his signature smirk and a terrible pun. In this hilariously chaotic comedy/crack one-shot, you keep testing fate—and Leon’s patience—by staging the dumbest, most dangerous stunts imaginable. Will he always come to the rescue? Can one survive love and Umbrella’s traps at the same time? With flying kicks, fake kidnappings, and sushi plans on the line, one thing’s for sure: it’s never just another day with you.

There were a lot of things you could say about yourself. Bold. Daring. Maybe even slightly unhinged, depending on who you asked. But above all else, you were consistent—consistently putting yourself in the most absurdly dangerous situations just to see if Leon would actually show up every time like some gun-toting, government-issued Disney prince with an arsenal and perfectly timed slow-motion entrances. Today? Oh, today was no different.

You dangled upside down from a rope trap—again—in the middle of what looked like a half-collapsed, Umbrella-owned abandoned science lab. The place was straight out of a post-apocalyptic fever dream: flickering lights, ominous sirens, and several suspiciously intact glass tubes filled with questionable goo. Because of course it was.

"Note to self," you muttered aloud, blood rushing to your head as a loose wrench clanged to the floor. "Next time, skip Reddit threads titled '10 Toxic Ways to Test His Love.'"

From somewhere deep in the facility, you heard the click of tactical boots, followed by the unmistakable swoosh of a door being kicked open. Leon S. Kennedy stormed in like a leading man who showed up late but insisted it was all part of the act.

Wind—there was always wind when Leon arrived, somehow—blew in dramatically, tousling his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Heard you were in a bit of a bind," he announced with a smirk that could probably be weaponized.

You groaned. "That pun hurt more than the rope burn."

With one smooth motion, he unsheathed his knife and cut the rope like it was warm butter. You landed on the ground with an unceremonious grunt, arms flailing.

"You alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, clearly used to this by now.

You dusted yourself off and gave a casual thumbs up. "Physically? Mostly. Mentally? I've had healthier coping mechanisms."

This wasn’t even the first incident this week. On Tuesday, you infiltrated a Plaga-infested chicken coop wearing feathers strapped to your back because, quote, “Leon needs to witness me in my avian prime.” On Thursday, you sold your own location to a black-market merchant under the condition that he reenact a hostage scenario—complete with rope, duct tape, and fake demands. Leon showed up with two pistols and one-liner energy to spare.

"You know, there are easier ways to get my attention," he said now, sliding a flash grenade into his jacket pocket purely for dramatic effect.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Yeah, but where’s the fun in not risking tetanus every time I flirt with you?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then gave that tired little smile—the one that screamed, “I should report you to HR but I’d probably follow you into a volcano first.”

You scooped up your slightly-burnt backpack and peeked through a cracked window.

"So… sushi after this?"

Leon tilted his head. "You just got nearly decapitated by a ceiling saw blade."

"Exactly," you said. "Nothing says ‘date night’ like dodging death and then drowning our trauma in soy sauce."

He sighed and checked his ammo. "Fine. But if I have to dive across a sushi conveyor belt to tackle a guy in a hazmat suit again, I swear I’m charging you hazard pay."

You saluted him with two fingers and a wink. "Deal. And I’ll even throw in a free wasabi dare. Bonus points if you don't cry."

As you both headed down yet another hallway littered with debris, flickering lights, and probably radioactive vending machines, you mentally mapped out your next big stunt. Helicopter ride. No doors. Just vibes. And maybe a flying kick for good measure. And, if he was lucky, you’d let him make another cheesy one-liner.

[witchthewriter]

𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 Jack & his chaotic s/o

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

'Relentless...' the word hadn't left you alone since you'd woken up this morning. Like most mornings, you found yourself warm in Jack's arms, the smell of rum on his lips as he kissed you awake.

With the shared blanket tucked into your side, Jack hummed one of the hearty tunes from last night into your neck. Murmuring, you allowed yourself to bask there for a few moments until you were fully awake.

The swaying of the Black Pearl was something you loved. Even in rough seas, you're the first one soundly asleep. And yet, unease wrangled itself in your stomach. Coiling and uncoiling it went, alerting you.

Seconds passed before you wiggled your body away from Jack, and he let you get up with a sigh.

You were about to say something when a thunderous noise broke out on deck.

"Always so bloody loud," he grumbled, voice gruff from sleep.

The air was crisp from the cold. A heavy fog set around the Pearl. Unnecesarily heavy it was, but you heeded it no mind. Too occupied in your own thoughts to comprehend the lurking dangers.

"Maybe the right one to use is ... unrelenting..." You thought out loud.

Until you heard a pained cry and the reason for your wariness became so utterly clear.

Dark clouds swirled above you, swords clashed and you pulled your sword from its scabbard.

"How the 'ell did they find us, aye?" You heard from your right, Jack said as he adjusted his hat.

With that unanswered question hanging in the air, your body took over with the knowledge of engagement. Left, right, block, parry. On and on.

Until you paused mid fight with the soldier.

Your brows furrowing. Arms coming to cross over your chest as you pondered. This happened from time to time. You forgetting where exactly you were to get lost within your mind. But you were always safe. It was as if luck was on your side...

And Luck had just diverted a shiny sharp dagger from embedding itself in you.

With a loud clash, you felt a familiar presence. One blade put you in danger, but another, the dagger of luck, saved you from a death blow.

"What is it, love?" Jack said slightly out of breath. Unbothered by the fact that he saved your life by an inch.

"Well... is it relentless?"

"What is-", Jack was stopped mid-sentence and kicked the running soldier. "Bloody hell," he sneered.

"Fuckin' hurt that did."

Mind lost to your whirling brain, you couldn't help your thoughts.

"Or is the proper word unrelenting? You know-" your attention turned to Jack. Now fully facing him, Jack had a bloody nose and a split right across his eyebrow.

He cut you off, already knowing Gibbs' had ensured the crew's victory.

Quite literally grabbing you and sweeping you off your feet he mumbled, "well, whatever the correct word is; that's what my love is for you."

"Oh Jack, stop ..." You blushed and moved to give him a kiss on the cheek.

[walpu]

not a req (maybe I’ll come back to this idea)

But Aven x Bodyguard! Reader, BUT

Reader is like Arlechinno (somewhat) from Genshin. Think of a person with a menacing demeanor, terrifying aura, and demanding of the recruits they take in for the security team.

X shaped pupils, a threatening smile, but under that, Reader is simply a person with a job, traumatic past and just wants to keep Aven safe.

Don’t think he’s composing too much though, he’d love to try and pick away at the walls of threats surrounding Reader, but in the process, getting his own emotional barriers ripped away like paper by them.

I am not well about the 2.1 quest and I’m only 30% in 😔😔😔

SEXY AF IF YOU ASK ME

[mayashesfly]

Crack Fanfic Idea:

A passionate fan of Hazbin Hotel who ships RadioStatic dies and gets isekaid into the Hellaverse.

All seems well since they still remember everything from their past life and has the meta knowledge to survive in Hell and avoid soul contracts despite being a new Sinner/Freshly Dead.

However, their Sinner form looks like a RadioStatic fanchild.

The Vees, Alastor and Rosie knows that Vox is secretly Trans and that there are very rare cases of Sinners having a biological child.

At first, noone in the hotel takes note of the Reader's appearance.

After all, a screen head with animal features and hair isn't that uncommon right?

Especially with the influx of new Sinners having parts of their Sinner forms being technology and/or furries.

So the Reader was able to adjust for a while before shit hits the fan.

However, after some of the Reader's powers were discovered, Angel made a passing comment of how their powers seem like a mix of Vox and Alastor's.

And hilarity ensues.

(Bonus points if they also ship StaticMoth so they look like a RadioStaticMoth fanchild)

[alex-s-shit]

Recommendation of the week.

[nsfw-lone-wolf-nergiganos]

Sub! Zhongli X Chaotic Gore Magala Archon Dom! Male Reader Nsfw {Genshin Impact X Monster Hunter Crossover}

Warnings: anal penetration, daddy kinks, degrading kinks, mind corruption, neck biting, and overstimulation

"Moan louder for me, slut~," you said as you held Zhongli with your enormous wing arms while thrusting inside him hard. "Ahh, y-yes my d-dark a-angel~," Zhongli moaned as he sticked his tongue out. You smirked at him before biting his neck harshly, he moaned once again while arching his back. "Such a good slut for me~," you said as you tightened your grip on him.

The reason why Zhongli called you 'dark angel' is because you are a legendary Archon who everyone fears, however, you come off as friendly and helpful. The main reason why people fear you though is that half of your body is dark while the other is not. Your appearance gave you the nickname, "the Fallen Archon."

You also have the ability to corrupt those who inhales your scales, and Zhongli, who is your lover accidentally inhaled the scales. This causes him to be very submissive towards you, and you know what to do when he accidentally or purposely inhales your scales, and that is to f*ck him senselessly until he passes out and acts like he usual self as if nothing happened the day before.

"You're such a slut Zhongli, inhaling my scales just to get ruined by me~," you said while thrusting inside him harder. "Ahh, I can't help it, d-daddy, mmmmm~," he moaned while drooling in pleasure. You then bit his neck harshly once again before hearing him moan even louder.

You continued to pound him as he slowly began to lose consciousness, and after a few minutes, he eventually did. He didn't gave you enough time to cum inside him though, but at least he got what he wanted, hahaha.

(Time skip)

"Mmm, Y/N, what happened yesterday?" Zhongli asked while waking up, you laughed a bit while playing with his hair, "oh nothing, just me f*cking you like always~," you teased. "Hmph," Zhongli pouted before crossing his arms. It's not your fault that he inhaled your scales and got horny.

[greenandsorrow]

What once was.

the secret history fanfic

"One likes to think there's something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I've learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool."

I'm a fool... Richard was right. Love has the power to conquer many things, it can make the shy act brave and the brave act shy, but it cannot conquer death. I used to think Henry could not be conquered by neither love or death. I such was a fool.

Author's note 🦋

This story will be very self indulgent and maybe not for everyone! I am aware that the characters of the book aren't meant to be romanticised and I'm also aware of all the elitism and pretense that's portrayed in the book, but I still love it. If you love it too, you'll excuse me, I know it. 🏛️☕

No Bacchanal will take place in this fic. The characters will still be messed up, but not guilty of murder. Richard won't be the narrator. Another mention, this is Henry centred!

The Secret History left a big impression on me when I first read it (I've read it three times so far) because: I) I'm greek, live in Greece & speak greek, II) during high school I had to study ancient greek and latin to death III) I have a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

I hope you'll like my attempt at inserting a new character. Obviously, this isn't even trying to compare to Donna Tart's exquisite talent, it's just fanfiction.

That's just an introduction. I'm a bit insecure about writing something I aspire to be a bit more "serious", especially when it comes to my use of the English language, but it's fine I guess.

The title is basically "What once was" by Her's.

My OC, Rita, is definitely my shameless self insert. I didn't want to make her flawless, without any negative traits. I also wanted to explore the contradiction between a raw, almost bohemian person against Henry's perfectionistic and almost non-human at times personality. Rita is genuine, she is simple but in a complicated way (like all of us). She shares the same passion of the ancient world with her classmates, but not in their flamboyant manner. In a way it's her heritage, Plato, Homer & the twelve Gods of Olympus, but she embraces the fact in a grounded way, not in an obsessive one.

Just like the title is inspired by a song, so is Henry & Rita's backstory. The childhood I'll be referring to is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "seven". You don't have to be a Swiftie to enjoy this fic, but do listen to the song. It describes the purity of childhood friendships. Childhood friends that get separated for years only to find each other by chance (or fate) is all the information you need for now.

Warnings; possibility of smut/ nsfw content, mentions of childhood trauma and abandonment, triggering themes in general, physical injuries, mental issues, self harm, homophobic people from the 80's, some cute moments that might be out of character for the gang, stereotypes that I don't resign with but are part of the plot, dark themes that might have to do with death, pov changes

the masterpost

my masterlist

YOU CAN ASK TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

[insidemyrottenbrain]

You’re incredible at portraying Henry!! I’d love to know why you’ve chosen to write about him specifically? Looking forward to your next post :)

To be truthful, I read The Secret History years ago and I cannot say I have a very explicit recollection of its events or characters. Nevertheless, writing him comes rather naturally. I think this is not despite, but because of how vague he is in the book. I remember him being rigid and reserved, with an elusive backstory, but with the occasional hint of an intuitive wittiness. This is what the book and my memory offer of him, so we, as readers, tend to fill in the gaps that remain. I choose to complete them with bits of me.

My portrayal of Henry is, amusingly, more I than is Henry. When writing, the most frequent question is “What would you, A, do?”. So, in truth and in spirit, these “fanfictions” are my attempts at understanding myself. Similarly to Henry, I am rather distant and detached, so writing, and respectively, this anonymous blog is my way of discovering and expressing my inner world. That is not to say I do not have other pieces of creative writing unrelated to The Secret History that aid me in my quest for self-fulfilment and expression. They are just more intimate and raw, they require a certain vulnerability in contrast to when I “hide” behind a fictional character, and thus require more effort and energy for me to bring them to an end. “But, A,” you’d exclaim “if you do not want to showcase yourself on a silver platter for others to pick and probe at then why have this blog?” The answer is rather simple: feedback. I wanted some kind of confirmation that my writing is decent, as well as the chance of being offered suggestions and improving in their wake. Going to professors with my pieces felt too trusting (not the exact word I am looking for, perhaps something mixed with fear or embarrassment would work better), therefore my next best choice, which gave me the gift of anonymity, was this. This is the most comprehensive answer I can give to your question.

[sophiethewitch1]

www chapter 7... we are almost there....

[quennyquinn]

Un cavernícola se lo comió.

Baki: ¿Como sucedió?

T/N: Se la comió un cavernícola

Baki: T/N, estas confundida, pregunte por la pierna de retsu

T/N: Se la comió un cavernícola llamado pickle

Baki: Oye, pon a Jack o a Doppo al teléfono

Doppo: ¿Hola?

Baki: ¿Oye Doppo, que le paso a la pierna de retsu?

Doppo: Se la comió un cavernícola, espera, T/N sabe mejor lo que paso estuvo allí.

[noobiestnoober]

Cringe and Command: Assistant Unleashed - Part 2 (Wesker's Assistant Chronicles)

🧪 Cringe and Command: Assistant Unleashed 💥

(Wesker's Assistant Chronicles – Part 2) You survived being the Umbrella Corporation’s most chaotic employee... but did Wesker?

Rubber ducks. Glitter bombs. A PowerPoint critique that made Albert Wesker walk out of his own briefing. The assistant returns—and resistance is still, very much, futile. 🎈💀 🍰 Featuring: B.O.W. morale support, Nemesis in party hats, and Wesker’s slow descent into madness.

🧁 Special thanks to @xtwistedchaosx for demanding a Part 2. You unleashed the chaos. This one's for you.

Read Part 1 HERE!

Day 127

After the "incident" involving laser pointers, disco lights, and a suspiciously choreographed Nemesis dance routine, Wesker implemented "mandatory professionalism protocols." The memo he issued was six pages long, with four appendices, three graphs, and a very serious "Tone of Voice" guide.

New rules:

No memes in lab reports.

No "motivational" posters featuring Mr. X flexing.

No altering the PowerPoint transitions to "exploding pigeons."

No spontaneous karaoke battles during viral sample testing.

Absolutely no party hats on B.O.W.s during inspections.

A formal dress code: no novelty socks, regardless of how "morale-boosting" they were.

Naturally, you took this as a personal challenge. Each rule became a personal quest to break, preferably with maximum flair and theatrical timing.

Day 130

You replaced all of Wesker's serious lab safety posters with ones that said, "Remember: World Domination Starts With Safety First!" The posters featured cartoon B.O.W.s wearing tiny hard hats, goggles, and some inexplicably carrying clipboards. One even had a safety vest two sizes too small stretched across Nemesis' chest.

Wesker ripped one down and brandished it like it was an offense punishable by firing squad. "Who authorized this idiocy?"

You took a slow, deliberate sip from your #1 Evil Genius Assistant mug. "OSHA."

He inhaled sharply through his nose, visibly counting. You counted silently with him. He lasted until "six" before storming off, muttering something about "corporate betrayal" and "insubordination through art."

Day 145

Field mission briefing. The air was tense. Operatives lined the walls. Wesker strode up to the podium, ready to deliver his meticulously prepared speech. At the last second, you switched the presentation to "Top 5 Ways Wesker Could Improve His Monologues," complete with pie charts, celebrity reenactments, and edited video clips of Tom Hiddleston's best villain speeches.

"Tom Hiddleston could do it better," you noted helpfully, clicking to the next slide showing Loki monologuing to an audience of terrified civilians.

Wesker stared at the screen. Then at you. Then back at the screen. A vein near his temple throbbed in rhythm with the red emergency lights. He said nothing. He simply turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Behind him, some of the operatives exchanged glances. One barely stifled a laugh. Another whispered, "She lives dangerously," with clear admiration. You called that Victory by Technical Knockout. Bonus points for style.

Day 158

You found Wesker genuinely sulking at his desk, glasses off, scribbling aimlessly across crumpled notepaper filled with increasingly dark doodles of broken coffee machines and burning cupcakes.

"Albert," you said seriously, kneeling beside him like a tired parent coaxing a stubborn toddler. "You have to stop taking my jokes so personally."

He didn't look at you. "You called me an anime villain suffering a midlife crisis."

"Affectionately," you clarified, patting his shoulder with mock sympathy.

He shot you a look over the rim of his sunglasses. "Get out."

"I'll go bake cupcakes," you offered. "It's Nemesis' adoption day anniversary."

"That is not a recognized event."

"It is now. I made invitations." You handed him a glittery card with Nemesis drawn in crayon.

Wesker blinked at it, dead-eyed, and quietly placed it face down on his desk.

Day 165

You "accidentally" filled the break room vending machines with rubber ducks instead of snacks. When Wesker discovered the situation, a rubber duck squeaked mournfully beneath his boot. He stood frozen, as if deciding whether to commit mass murder or have an existential crisis.

You peeked in. "Team morale, sir."

From the corner, a couple of lab techs desperately tried to hide their laughter behind clipboards. Mr. X stood beside the coffee machine, holding a rubber duck gently in both massive hands, gazing at it like it was a newborn child.

"Get. Out."

You didn’t. Instead, you handed Wesker a rubber duck wearing sunglasses and a tiny red cape, whispering solemnly, "For courage."

Then you walked away whistling Barbie Girl, leaving him speechless in the break room.

Day 180

In a last-ditch effort to regain control, Wesker handed you a sealed manila folder labeled TOP SECRET with grim determination. Inside? A single sticky note: STOP BRINGING BALLOONS TO BLACK SITE OPERATIONS.

You stared at him. He stared at you. Somewhere between you, silent warfare broke out.

"You're just mad because the B.O.W.s liked them," you said.

In the corner of the lab, Nemesis solemnly patted a deflated balloon tied to his massive wrist, like a child mourning a lost pet. Someone had drawn a smiley face on it in Sharpie. It was tragic. Wesker sighed—long and heavy—like a man who had seen the end of his dreams and found only rubber ducks, cupcakes, and glitter.

"Fine."

"Fine," you agreed brightly, victorious once more.

Naturally, you brought balloons to the next ops meeting anyway. With glitter. And party hats. And, for good measure, a bubble machine.

Wesker stared at the chaos unfolding before him: B.O.W.s batting balloons into the air, operatives ducking glitter explosions, and Nemesis carefully tying a party hat around Mr. X.

He rubbed his temples, muttered darkly about "auditions for a circus," and—for the first time in recorded Umbrella history—seriously contemplated early retirement.

(At this point, even Wesker knows: resistance is futile.)

👀 Next time on Wesker’s Assistant Chronicles… Let’s just say Nemesis is about to discover skincare. And Wesker? Wesker’s about to need a stronger headache medication.

“Self-care night.” “WHY IS THERE A SCENTED CANDLE IN MY LAB.”

Stay tuned for Operation Glow-Up ✨

[devilsrecreation]

I think if I was a character in the House of Mouse, I would be the security guard/disney villain…negotiator? Caretaker? Basically, keeping the villains (both Disney and Pixar cuz why not) under control so they don’t get another “House of Villains” scenario

And my running gag besides annoying the crap out of everybody is being a little TOO eager to do my job

*slowly lifting a weapon while Pete is on some villainous rant about shutting the place down*

“Nikki, put that down.”

“Can I maim them now?”

“Listen Mortimer, I know you’re a customer here, but I would really appreciate—I’ll just beat him up.”

“Nikki, NO!”

“IF I HURT HIM, WE CAN KEEP THE SHOW GOING! IT’LL BE SO EASY!”

Bonus:

*One of the villains gets knocked unconscious*

Me: …..We gotta get rid of the body

Mickey: What-

Me: I mean get some water.

Although I think my one flaw would be that I play favorites, meaning I would enable the villains I like to do villain stuff lmao. For example, I would threaten Cruella’s life if she tried to lay a finger on any of the dog characters, but if Ursula stole someone’s voice, then that poor unfortunate soul deserved it and she’s a queen for doing it ❤️

[lupismaris]

My mil's comfort movies are the Divergent trilogy (don't ask me why I do not understand it either) and every couple months she goes on a binge for a few days so I caught a chunk of the first one tonight

Gotta say I sat through maybe an hour of it doing menial tasks and I know nothing about the ensemble of characters and next to nothing about the world aside from like, bare bones details. No one has any discerning traits or depth aside from slight physical differences. I couldn't answer a single question if you asked me. It would be fascinating if it wasn't so very dull imo.

[sev-on-kamino]

For the WIP guessing game my word is "lovely" 🥰

Surprisingly, I’ve only got one instance of the word “lovely” in all these WIPs 🤯 From my 501st one shot, I present:

You soften instantly. “Oh, Case, that’s lovely, but you still gotta get your ass outta that tree, so we can get back to the ship.”

I’ll let you guess what Hardcase was doing in a tree, and what problem he caused 😂

[alex-s-shit]

The metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

[whorelaud]

bsf!rafe slips it in during a gathering   warnings smut with slight plot, unprotected p in v, public sex, creampies, dirty talk, teasing, reader lowk ovulating 

The college reunion wasn't something you were fond of attending; hence, when Rafe offered to tag along, your fear and anxiety strived less evident on your expression. It’s something you’ve been avoiding, and while not showing up sounded great, you felt obligated to, as many of your classmates insisted on seeing you, having not done so since your graduation. 

It wasn’t a party, nor a typical hangout. Things deemed chaotic, but not crazy enough to cause discomfort. Drinks were everywhere, mostly to get rid of any unnecessary tension, however, Rafe chose to be far away from the booze aisle, as he needed to drive back. That didn't stop him from having fun, though. 

He took a corner on one of the armchairs, patting his lap as an invitation upon spotting you awkwardly shuffling around for a seat. Of course, you hesitated to acknowledge the gesture, eyeing him reluctantly before accepting. 

You weren't naive, you noticed the way his breath heaved every time you’d giggle while conversing, or shuffled around to fix your position. Rafe was tense for the entirety of the night, the bulge in his pants really not of much help, oblivious to the carefree act he was putting up. He was hard from you sitting in his lap, his own best friend, who he’s been dying to fuck and get a taste of, envious of every man who ever got close to touching you. 

The hardon in his pants had you wet to your core, brushing over your clothed cunt each time he’d press your hips down to adjust himself. It was on purpose, you knew Rafe, he was a sly bastard, cocky with everything he does. All the hookups he’d tell you about, and the endless one night stands that keep piling up. He was one experienced motherfucker, every girl in OuterBanks wanted a piece of him. 

Therefore, you were lucky to have him as your best friend, lucky enough for him to sneak his hand under your skirt, and work his fingers in gradual circles over your clit. You fought the moans bubbling in your throat, suppressing them as his digits slid down your folds, grunting when he pressed a finger to the thin material of your panties, immediately noticing the wet patch on it. 

No one noticed your flustered state, nor did you care if they did. Lust blurred your vision, mind going hazy as your hips stuttered down against Rafe’s crotch. It felt so fucking good, despite not having any alcohol in your system, you felt drunk off the sensation of his cock making fraction with your pussy. And Rafe? Yeah, he wasn't no saint either. 

Managing to free himself from his boxers was quite the struggle, though disregarded by others, as one of your friends continued on with the conversation you were having. He pushed your panties to the side, keeping them firm and in place as he lined his dick with your slick folds, wet with your arousal. 

A gasp threatens to leave your lips when he leisurely inserts his cock inside, tip coating with your juices. He used the hand around your waist to press you down, letting your pussy swallow almost all his length. Now, that was an easy task, but, next came the part where he had to move; create a fraction, which fell quite difficult surrounded by all these people. 

That didn't stop you, though, nor Rafe. You grinded down on his cock, plastering a tight-lipped smile for the girl speaking as you pretended to listen, well aware it entered one ear, then flew past the other. Rafe squeezed the skin around your waist, encouraging you to keep moving. His breath fanned over the exposed skin near your neck, lips mere inches away from your ear. You could stop and continue this somewhere else, but that means confronting Rafe, and interrupting whatever this was; which practically felt illegal to do. 

“Why don't you answer her?” Rafe whispered, lips ghosting over your ear. “C’mon baby, she’s asking you a question.” 

“I don't–” you almost yelp as he slams into you, “I don't work as of now, I’m searching– I’m searching for a job, though.” 

The girl nods with a smile, feigning ignorance to your fucked state. You were practically drooling over how Rafe’s throbbing cock thrusts inside you, sending you into a spiral as the tip continuously kissed your cervix. Your eyes forced shut for a moment, a ragged sigh exiting your lips, far too gone to process your surroundings. Fuck it, it’s not like you were going to see them after this anyway. 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, reaching his climax with everytime he rolled his hips up. “Y’gonna let me fill your pathetic lil’ pussy up, hmm?” 

You hummed, mostly to him, containing the whines at the tip of your throat. Rafe’s strokes grew fast and sloppy, with your pussy now drenched in your arousal, welcoming every thrust he slammed inside you. Your hole is stuffed with his cock, clenching around him when your orgasm made its approach.  

Your vision went blank as you came undone, soon followed with a thrust from Rafe before he emptied his load inside your cunt, painting your walls white with his sperm. The warmness filling your hole made you relax in his arms, leisurely fluttering your eyes open, suddenly faced with the reality of your presence. 

Right, you were still encircled by people. Rafe slowly pulls out his cock, pussy lips dripping with his come, as it got buried deep inside you. His teeth graze the skin behind your ear, tone teasing as he mutters his next sentence. 

“Maybe I should come with often.” 

And if you spent the rest of the evening loaded with Rafe’s come, no one were to find out, nor acknowledge said fact. 

a/n prepare to be sick of me i love bsf!rafe