#g. c. green

[guerrilla-operator]

GODFLESH

[lululeighsworld]

You are the Emerald Witch, and I am your butler. Our laws forbid us from leaving Wolfsschlucht.

Black Butler -Emerald Witch Arc-

bonus

[misterlemonztenth]

08-04-23 | c-o-l-o-r-e-s-m-a-g-i-c-o-s. https://misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[narliearchive]

a shield of blue and green by shadowquill17 [T]

Tristan Hayes has just joined Truham’s rugby team, and Nick has a feeling he might turn out to be a bully. Because of course, there's no other reason Tristan could be looking at Charlie… right?

[87dvhnk]

"i read the wiki and i saw the pages/panels already, why do i need to read the comics?"

because a) some those comics fuck with awing dexterity and stamina b) there's a good chance shit is out of context or simply misrepresented (innocently, humorously, ignorantly or maliciously) and c) you know the beats/endings of tons of shit, but it doesn't impede your enjoyment of it, now does it? sure it's nice to go in spoiler free, but if the gimmick of spoiling material is all a piece of media has, then that piece of media is meritless. you knew who luke skywalker's father was before you saw the movie. is it still worth watching? you knew romeo and juliet died before you read the play. is it still worth reading? do you not want to go on a journey? do you not want to feel something? do you not want to commiserate about the human experience through art? a wiki will never be comprehensive enough to cover everything you would have read or seen yourself--it can't be, not without being the thing itself. even then, you still miss the things not on the page/screen, the things that are only implied, the things that go unstated, or else conspicuously omitted. don't talk to me about shit haunting the narrative if the only haunting you've ever been apart of was your passing despite your dogshit analysis skills haunting the conscience of your eng 101 adjunct professor in perpetual fear of losing their contract and being relocated from their car to under a bridge by demanding college students demonstrate basic reading comprehension, critical thinking, and coherent argumentative skills. boast about killing the author? my friend, you are cain advancing in the fields, skulking, stepping in abel's footprints, filled with murderous intent, with nothing but the chinese telephone-equivalent of a description of a weapon cutting into your soft palms.

[hershelwidget]

THEY'R. DUOIFIED

next to each other you really get to see how fucked up their proportions are and i think thats beautiful (because i spent a full week's worth of work on this and if you think i'm gonna fix anything you're WRONG)

[guerrilla-operator]

GODFLESH

[random-blurbs]

MARK X READER X VARIANT MARK(s)?

a/n- this is something very random - open ending so i can continue with the other variants in other parts hehe

omni-mark variant. sinister mark imagine

You didn’t want to join the fight.

How could you when it was all the versions of the guy you love.

The one you practically abandoned when things got too difficult. Your argument fresh in your mind even as months passed. You abandoned him and he never lets you forget that.

Your mind racing as you see the destruction the variants left in their wake. The death toll rising and the lives forever changed by the passing minute.

Your phone was ringing excessively, you already knew who it was. Glancing over at it your body was already shaking. How can you ever show your face to the public eye again? You don’t deserve to show your face after what you’ve done. The darkness of your home enveloped you, keeping you stuck forever in time. You belong here. To repent what you’ve done. The calling seized as different videos played on your tv of what else they’ve done. They look so similar yet their cruel actions contrast the Mark you know.

Your heart is breaking as you imagine what Mark is thinking. Somehow he’ll blame himself when it’s anything but. Yet you’re too afraid of telling him that. The ringing started again making you mindlessly peek at who it was, your breath got caught in your throat as you read the name.

Mark.

Your hands scrambled over to the phone as you looked at the caller ID. How long has it been since you talked? Pressing the green button you bit your lip nervously putting the phone by your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?! Are you safe?” His panicked voice made tears prick your eyes. “Y-yeah why wouldn’t I be?” You hear him grunting the rushing of air practically being audible, “Wait are you coming here?”

“You need to get out of there!” Sensing that something was wrong you put your phone on speaker as you stood up looking around your living room wildly. “Mark what’s happening?” It was as if he sensed your own worry he gritted his teeth trying to get to you quicker. “I don’t know what they want but you need to g-.” Cutting him off with a shriek part of your roof collapsed making you stumble back in shock. It was muscle memory all your years fighting as you quickly made a cut in your hand letting the blood shoot out to the culprit who broke into your home.

“Y/N! What’s happening!” Your phone clattered onto the floor as both of your hands shot out to the person in-front of you.

Your eyes widened realizing who it was. “Mark?” He was wearing the same black and blue suit as your Mark simply covering his hair but coated with blood. “Y/N?” His voice was tentative, without a second thought he broke out the blood hold you had on him making you wince. Before you can make another cut his hand wrapped around your throat pushing you against the wall making you yelp in pain. The sudden motion scared you but there he was holding you now ever so softly. His thumb was caressing your cheek, a thing your Mark used to love doing. “You’re alive.” His voice was laced with a desperation you never thought you would hear. “You’re alive in this world?” He couldn’t believe it.

Before you can question anything the Mark that wasn’t yours pressed his lips against yours. A kiss filled with anguish, he pulled you closer into his body as if wanting to meld into one. His warm hands placed around your waist confidently, letting himself indulge in the warmth he once lost. He felt you try pull away but that only allowed him to deepened the kiss pulling your hair back slightly to open your mouth as you whined in pain. He wanted every piece of you. Every sound you let out, every slight shudder, he wanted it all. Letting himself feel every part of your body that he still memorized.

“Are you fucking kidding me! You liar you said you were busy torturing some C grade hero!” He pulled away leaving you dazed. That definitely wasn’t your Mark.

Looking up you took a careful step back seeing 2 new versions of Mark. Your eyes widen recognizing the outfit you used to grace this world. You didn’t think you would see Omni-man’s costume again, confused just as much as you see a Mark with a blue drape-like mask. “Just get the hell out I got here first.” The Mark in-front of you warned as he stood protectively around you.

“Man fuck you! I would’ve gotten here first if it was a race!”

“Do you have to curse every time you open your mouth?” Bewildered by the interaction you’re witnessing you try to look for any way out. “Y/N!” Making his presence practically known your Mark came bursting in landing a sickening crack to the variant infront of you. He slid back holding his ground looking up at your Mark with devilish smile.

“You got me good there.” Cracking his neck the other variants all eyed Mark. “Mark you need to get out of here.” You worried knowing he can’t handle all three of them.

“I can’t. You need to get out I’ll buy you some time.” Mark seemed more nervous for your safety as you both finally acknowledged each other after months of not talking. Everyone swears whenever he looked at you it was with those love sick eyes that would do anything for you. Seeing it in 3 other versions of him just finally settled in your mind how much he cared for you. He was going to get himself killed for you.

“I’m not leaving.” You spoke firmly making Mark shake his head immediately holding onto your body making the variants eyes laser onto him, “This isn’t the time Y/N! Just leave! I can’t fight with you ar-.” Shoving him back as you took your own step back seeing a fist coming your guy’s way. A new variant entered the scene not knowing if Mark can genuinely rock the mohawk look. “Aww c’mon! I was so close to getting him!” The variant whined with a crazed look in his eyes.

Not letting this moment go you made another cut on your hand letting the blood shoot out to the unsuspecting variant with the blue mask around his leg, throwing him onto the floor as you heard him groan out. Your Mark jumped at the opportunity flying back to the Mohawk variant. It got tiring quick as you tried dodging away from the variant’s grasp letting cut after cut to try getting them away. “I always hated that power of yours.” You saw a flash of white before being thrown against a wall.

Gritting your teeth as you slid down the pain coursed through your body. “Y/N!” Mark tried flying to you before being punched down to the ground just as quickly. “You don’t realize how lucky you have it here.” The variant who had thrown you spat at the boy you love. The air felt strange as everyone heard his words.

“Surprised she’s not dead yet.” The variant with omni-man’s suit said nonchalantly, glancing over at you with an unrecognizable look.

“And whose fault is it that she’s dead in your universes?” Mark jabbed making you wince immediately seeing how that triggered those around him. Shooting your hand out you made a box around Mark as a variant tried swinging behind him, keeping him safe for only a moment before you got grabbed by another.

Wincing in pain as the variant threw you onto the street you stumbled up steadying your footing. This time it was a variant with Mark’s old suit with no goggles. “You seem weaker in this universe.” He pointed out as he threw a punch to your gut making you stumble back. This variant doesn’t seem so keen on simply kissing you.

“Don’t be so sure of that.” Without him realizing you made a puddle of blood beneath him grabbing onto him piercing his body as best you could. Instead of pained yells you’re used to he let out a maniacal laugh grinning at you gleefully. “This was the Y/N I missed!” Getting out of the piercing blood he flew at you throwing a punch you were barely able to tank as you tried to harden the blood around your body. “You can’t believe how boring it’s been without you!” Even with an excited tone you hear the loneliness laced with it refusing to believe you’re really dead in every universe of theirs.

“Is this how you treated your version of me?” You sneered throwing a jab at his jaw as he massaged it. “Yeah I always enjoyed how you hit me. But I know you can hit harder.” He teased flying towards you throwing you onto the ground once again. You refuse to believe you sparred with this fucker. He’s in another level.

“And I always enjoyed what we did after.” He had your arms pinned over your head as you tried wiggling out, he was practically straddling you. With a teasing smile his hand ghosted your skin under your shirt making you gasp as his hand gripped onto the blooming bruise decorating your body.

“The pleasure mixed with pain was our favorite thing.” His forehead softly touched yours reflecting a love sick smile only fit for a masochist like him. “Do you want me to show you what you’ve been missing?” Not letting you answer he bit into your neck making you buck your hips trying to get away from him feeling your body heat up at his words.

“You had her for enough.” Before you can process what’s happening the Mark ontop of you got flung back as another pair of hands held you. “Dammit!” Your eyes were shut tight as you felt the air rush past you in a way you’ve never experienced. Mark has always made special care to fly you around with a sensitivity to your more normal body than his. But this variant didn’t care as you gripped onto him tighter fearing for your life. You can hear his body let out a rumble similar to a chuckle you can barely acknowledge.

You barely gather your surroundings as you were thrown onto a bed. Scrambling to sit up you back met the bed-frame seeing the variant floating in-front of you. Stalking your movements, enjoying every second he has with you. And he plans on enjoying every future second with you.

[hellsitegenetics]

Acting as the tumblr science bro / local sequencer: tell all your followers (lots I'm sure) to be careful criss-crossing deep green / azure / wine-dark / teal (any color actually) aquatic-concerned, generously-connected big spaces where one might happen upon a fish or a fearsome beast with cactus-like spines or terrible cat-like reflexes, creeping silently toward you, to eat, to cull... all this is to gregariously imbue: go there & you may find a mantis shrimp.

String identified: Actg a t t cc / ca c: t a (t ' ) t ca c-cg g / a / -a / ta (a c acta) aatc-cc, g-cct g ac gt a a a a at t cact- t cat- , cg t ta , t at, t c… a t t gga : g t & a a at .

Closest match: Gonodactylellus affinis mitochondrion, complete genome Common name: Mantis shrimp

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 17

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T (soon) ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, jealousy and possessive rafe, tension and angst, FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ at bulk & bloom, rafe fought off suggestive thoughts while you two had some teasing back and forth. later at barry's pawn shop, he told you to stay in the car, but the silent treatment made him give in. inside, rafe got tense when he saw you and barry knew each other. it quickly became clear barry had the upper hand. while rafe was sent to the backroom, barry warned you not to trust him, which triggered a spiral: what if rafe only saw you as a dispensable toy? back in the car, rafe confronted you about barry threatening him, but your passive replies made things worse. frustrated, he eventually admitted he liked spending time with you and wasn’t trying to mess with your head but he still likes the idea of getting to bend you over. you explained how mixed signals make you anxious, and that you needed clarity to feel safe. after some back and forth, you both agreed this could be a friendship. when cara called, you asked rafe to drop you off. he hid his disappointment but offered to pick you up later, quietly worried that sarah might pull you away from him.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10.6k+ (oopsie again)

✿ A / N ✿ whew. another super long-ass chapter. a lot is happening here, lots of jumping back and forth but i really wanted to squeeze it all in so i wouldn't need another "saturday" chapter. maybe this whole thing feels a little rushed (especially the very end, sorry for that) or floppy but i srsly wanted to finish it today so you guys wouldn't need to wait for another day but i guess it will have to do. anyway, I SCREAMED AND GIGGLED AT THE ENDING SO PLS LMK WHAT YOU GUYS THINK. enjoy <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 3 0 P M

You had literally just a few seconds between the moment Rafe dropped you off and the moment Cara immediately descended on you with Diggory and dragged you to the beach, where a group of energetic Pogues greeted you.

But in those few seconds? Your brain had already gone absolutely haywire and it was all Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

Because holy fucking shit, today? Those not even three hours you'd spent with him? Jesus fucking Christ, that was—what—like, no seriously, what???

Just what. That summed it up pretty well.

Rafe, who'd shown up unannounced at your house to drop off your bag and had had lunch with your family. Rafe, who then willingly dragged you out to hang out (okay, under the pretense of sobering you up, but like, STILL). Rafe, who had almost gone for your throat in Barry’s pawn shop just for knowing Barry. Rafe, who'd actually tried to help pull you out of that goddamn spiral in your head. Rafe, who somehow had a shocking amount of patience for your absolutely deranged overthinking episode (seriously, you needed to tell Barry never to say shit like that again, even if he meant well).

FUCKING RAFE, who said he LIKED hanging out with you AND HOLY SHIT was down to sleep with you if you gave him the green light LIKE JESUS CHRIST I’M SORRY WHAT IS HAPPENING???

Just. Rafe.

Oh, and Rafe, who’d also offered to PICK YOU UP LATER LIKE GUYS WTF WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WE IN?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the one you knew.

Some real life Marvel Multiverse Quantumjump shit must’ve gone down, because this? This day? THIS RIGHT HERE? RAFE!?!?!?!

Nope.

Just no. How? What?!?

This dude had turned your entire brain inside out with a single conversation like CAN WE JUMP BACK TO RAFE GENUINELY WANTING TO FUCK YOU LIKE HELLOOO??????

Like for real now. The fact that you’d even managed to finish that conversation? And without having a full-blown panic attack after what he'd admitted? Remarkable.

Because your brain hadn’t just short-circuit after that, it was shattered. LIKE YOUR FUCKING CRUSH BEING SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO YOU I MEAN??

WHAT.

Nah, that hadn’t even been you in that conversation. No way. Your body must’ve switched to passive flight mode or autopilot or something because you, just a few days ago, would’ve freaked out so hard you'd have launched yourself into another dimension.

Oh. Hah. Funny. Apparently, you had.

Holy shit, seriously.

But again, you didn’t really get the chance to process any of that truly. No time to spiral, because one, your serotonin levels were sky-high just from how absurdly patient Rafe had been with you today—like, fuck, that alone had made you fall even harder for him.

And two, you’d barely managed to half-say goodbye to him when Cara was already there waiting with her terrier at the parking lot, pulling you into a hug with the biggest, smirkiest smile in the world.

And then she started absolutely blasting you with questions. First one being: “Did you make out?” followed by “What did you guys even do?”, “Why were you hanging out in the first place?”, and “How big is his dick?”

Uhm yeah, that didn’t exactly help your already overloaded brain.

You tried catching your breath after she let go of you with a, “Wait—did I just interrupt something between you two?”

You just shook your head with a smile. “Probably better that you called, otherwise I might’ve actually exploded.”

“Okay, now I seriously need to know what the fuck you two were up to,” she said, eyeing you like a dog begging for treats.

A tired chuckle escaped your lips. “I think we’ll need a separate meeting for that. Wouldn’t wanna keep your loverboy waiting.”

After a bit of back and forth with her saying “His ass can wait” and you insisting “Actually, I need the distraction,” she finally gave in and led you across the parking lot, over the dunes, to a shady little spot where probably the last people Rafe would want to see you with were waiting.

His sister and Pogues.

Well. Good thing you hadn’t been specific about who exactly you were meeting up with. And thank god he hadn’t asked. Otherwise, you probably would’ve had to listen to a whole speech about why you shouldn’t be hanging out with that kind of scum (let’s not forget, last week in Econ he'd said he’d rather shoot himself than hang out with a Pogue, so yeah, that said enough).

ANYWAY. Whew.

You had barely a millisecond to breathe before Cara threw you right into the next interaction.

“Tadaaa, everyone, meet Y/N,” Cara said with a dramatic hand flourish as you arrived at the shady spot.

With an awkward wave and a smiling “Hi,” you greeted the three girls lounging on towels under a sun umbrella, who all perked up with visible curiosity.

You recognized Kiara Carrera: She’d gone to Kildare Academy for a year, a grade below you, and also lived in the 8. Cleo Nash you vaguely remembered from bonfire parties. And of course, you knew Sarah, both from around and, well…from that little awkward encounter on Wednesday at Tannyhill.

All three of them eyed you curiously and with varying levels of friendliness. Sarah had that big warm smile she’d greeted you with the first time. Cleo looked like she could murder someone if she felt like it, but even her smile had something soft about it, like running your hand along the dull side of a blade.

Only Kiara seemed a little... you didn’t even know how to describe it. Not cold or distant, just... cautious.

“Hey,” Sarah said, patting the towel next to her. “Come sit down. Nice seeing you again.”

God, why did this feel so awkward? You were a year older than the three of them and yet, this was just... weirdly uncomfortable.

Still, you sat down cross-legged with an awkward, “Thanks, good to see you too,” as Cara plopped down beside you. And oh no, judging by the way all four of them were now staring at you…

You shot Cara a what-did-you-tell-them-about-me-and-Rafe look, and she just gave you an innocent little grin that said, Nothing, I swear.

In response, you shot her a telepathic I’m gonna kill you.

“I hope Rafe didn’t throw a fit when he dropped you off,” Sarah said with a smirk. “Actually, I’m kinda surprised he even let you come hang out with us.”

Kiara gave a wide-eyed Yep-nod.

Welp…

You chuckled awkwardly. “I kinda... didn’t tell him who'd be here.”

Sarah raised her brows, still smirking. “And he seriously didn’t kick you out?”

“No?” You blinked, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “I mean... he even offered to pick me up later.”

Cara shrieked beside you (Kiara flinched with a “Shit”). “WHAT.”

Sarah chuckled. “Okay, now I’m even more surprised. He knows I hang out here all the time. Literally calls it the rat hole.”

Um…

“A lot of people hang out here,” Cleo said with a shrug.

Kiara scoffed. “It’s Rafe. Are we sure he’s not hiding behind some dune waiting to jump us?”

O-kay. What kind of picture did she have of him?

“More like he’s hiding to spy on the love of his life,” Cara said, and you immediately wanted to dig a hole in the sand and die inside it.

Cleo and Sarah chuckled. Only Kiara raised a brow, eyeing you in disbelief. “And you willingly hang out with him? Like, he’s not forcing you?”

“I... yeah, he’s...” you started, but honestly, what were you supposed to say? An idiot, an asshole, intense, a lot, a total dumbass. No, you said what you always said in situations like this. “Nice.”

Kiara blinked at you like you’d just announced World War Three. She curled her lips and furrowed her brows. “Are we talking about the same Rafe Cameron or...?”

“Kie,” Cleo muttered with an eye roll and a chuckle.

Kiara lifted her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, ‘nice’ wouldn’t be my first choice of words to describe Rafe Cameron.” She raised her brows. “More like brazen or, I don’t know, ruthless. No offense, Sarah.”

“Nah, that sounds like my brother,” Sarah replied with a smile but then turned toward you again, eyes a little more curious now. “Okay, stupid question, but... have you two, y’know…?”

“God, Sarah,” Cleo groaned.

PLEASE.

Camerons clearly had a gene that made any situation instantly awkward.

With flushed cheeks, you shook your head and fidgeted with the strap of your bag in your lap. “Um... no.”

What did that even have to do with anything?

“Interesting,” was all Sarah said, a big grin on her face. “And you’re not, like, a witch or something?”

Literally what.

"Excuse me?" Cara raised her brows in mock offense and gestured at you with both hands. “Do you see that radiant aura? Of course he’s obsessed. No spell needed.”

“Okay, shouldn’t we be asking if he’s the one casting spells on her?” Kiara muttered, frowning. Then she turned to you directly. “I seriously can’t believe someone like you actually enjoys being around him.”

Somehow that was kind of offensive… but also weirdly sweet?

“Who’s hanging out with who?” A dripping, shirtless John B appeared by your little towel circle, surfboard tucked under his arm. A few steps behind him, JJ Maybank and Pope Heyward wandered up too, bumping shoulders and laughing about something.

Also: shirtless… and wet…

Jesus Christ.

“Y/N and Rafe,” Sarah said, glancing up at him with a sweet smile.

John B nodded with an Ahhhh expression like he already knew about it, like, ??? Then he looked at you with a smile and gave a casual wave. “Oh yeah, hey. And he’s not holding you at gunpoint for this?”

“Thank you,” Kiara said, pointing to John B.

“Wait, who’s holding who at gunpoint?” JJ dropped his surfboard in the sand next to you all and planted his hands on his hips. His gaze finally landed on you, eyebrows shooting up with a grin. “Wild day when two Kooks voluntarily show up in the Cut. What is this—the Purge?”

“Three, actually,” Cara said, giving him a cheeky look. “If you count Rafe.”

Now Pope was the one looking confused. “Rafe was here?”

“Not with us, dumbass,” Cleo said, then pointed at you. “With Y/N.”

Can someone just shoot me? Shotgun, sniper, I genuinely don’t care.

Pope turned to you, gave a slightly awkward smile and a little wave.

OMG A FELLOW SHY GUY.

You smiled back and gave him a small wave in return and wow, it didn’t even feel awkward. One fellow introvert was all it took to help you shake your own nervous energy.

“Yeah, we just haven’t figured out yet if Rafe put a spell on her or if it’s the other way around,” Kiara said. “My money’s on the first one.”

“Nah, I’m going with the second,” John B replied, with Cleo and Sarah nodding in agreement.

“How about he’s just smitten with her,” Cara said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

JJ squinted, tilting his head. “Mmm, not sure. Rafe’s nuts. Wouldn’t shock me if he’s doing some voodoo shit in his room.”

Okay, what was going on between Rafe and these people, like seriously?

Pope let out a scoff. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in witchcraft.”

“I believe in anything until I’m proven wrong,” JJ said with a shrug, gesturing to you. “And a nice girl willingly hanging out with Rafe?” He shook his head, lips curling. “That’s gotta be some supernatural stuff.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, amused. “Not sure about that.”

“Guys, it’s simple,” Cara said like she hadn’t just met these people three hours ago. “He’s just head over heels for her.”

OKAYYY, THAT’S ENOUGH.

You barely knew like 90% of the people here and this was not the first impression you wanted—hanging out with Rafe being your entire personality. You hadn’t even properly introduced yourself yet.

“Yeah, um… can we maybe just…” you said with a sheepish smile.

Kiara nodded. “Yes. Please.”

"I don’t know about you guys, but I could go for a snack," John B said, and everyone seemed to agree.

"Bob’s Iceshack?" JJ asked.

John B shut his eyes, lips escaping a delighted Mmmm. “You get me, bro.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"So, why exactly did you want me to come here again?" you asked Cara, washing your hands in the restroom of Bob’s Iceshack.

After placing your orders at the beachside café, the others had already snagged a spot out on the wooden balcony, but you’d shot Cara a more-or-less telepathic signal (aka a gentle kick to the foot) that you needed a quick minute with her.

On the phone, she'd said she needed backup because of JJ but hadn’t said exactly why. And yeah, to be fair, Rafe was kind of right—what did Cara ever need backup for in a situation like that? Especially from you, of all people???

Especially when the sexual tension between her and JJ was practically leaking off the walls. All those two needed was a room and the rest would just... happen. Shit, they probably didn't even need that.

Cara furrowed her brows. "I’ve been thinking..."

Uh-oh. That could mean anything, from I’m becoming a nun to I’m buying a crocodile and starting a family of five. Today.

“Mmh-hmm,” you hummed, in that high-pitched danger incoming tone, pressing your lips together and raising your brows as you dried your hands.

Cara sighed. "Okay, JJ's cool. He’s really hot, funny, and also kinda got this soft side. Oh, and did I mention, he’s really hot."

You nodded. "Uh-huh, loud and clear."

"And like, I know I could end up in his bed tonight if I wanted to," she said, drying her hands too. "God, the things he could do to me... I’d let him explore every direction on the compass with me, like full-on—"

"Okay, too much information."

Cara wrinkled her nose. "But the thing is... I don’t know. Now that the opportunity is right there, like literally one move away..." She gave you a look like she’d just tasted something weird and couldn’t decide if she liked it. "...I kinda don’t want it anymore?"

Oh!

That’s...

Not surprising at all.

You let out an amused chuckle, which earned you a stunned look from Cara.

"What?" she asked, genuinely flabbergasted. "I’m serious. My whole body is screaming for this guy, but my head’s just like, ugh, I don’t know, it’s pulling in another direction." She widened her eyes. "I think I’m getting sick."

"Orrrr," you said with a big grin, "That other direction is called Topper Thornton."

Cara blinked.

You chuckled again. "I mean... it’s kinda obvious he likes you. And you like him too, judging by how close you two were last night."

"Trust me, I KNOW he likes me. I could see the little hearts in his eyes every time he looked at me," she said dryly. "But like... it’s Topper."

You laughed. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you almost hook up with him a few weeks ago before he chickened out? And weren’t you the one always preaching how sweet and nice he is?"

Cara’s face twisted into a dramatic frown. "Yeah, I mean, he really is sweet. We texted forever last night, but—"

"Define forever?"

"7 a.m."

Jesus Christ.

"Girl. Connect the dots."

Cara made a tortured face. "Ughhh, I don’t wanna."

"Think of it this way," you said, chuckling. "Baddie and simp duo."

Cara burst into laughter, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. "Great. Now I just want him for the trope."

You both started laughing.

"So what now? Do I spend one night in JJ’s Wonderland and then circle back to Topper?" Cara asked, raising her brows, real frustration in her voice.

You shrugged. "I dunno. I support you either way. Just trust your gut."

"Girl, my gut’s telling me to ditch all men and marry you instead."

You scoffed. "Would be the easiest route."

"The smartest one," Cara corrected, then gave you a playful smile. "But I wouldn’t want to snatch Rafe’s future wife right from under his nose."

You made a tsk sound. "Pretty sure he doesn’t see it that way."

"Oh, I’m sure he does. I can already hear the wedding bells," Cara replied, clasping her hands together like she was already planning the ceremony.

Jesus. If she was already talking like this, she was going to absolutely lose her mind when you told her about today.

But honestly, you hadn’t even processed it yourself: Rafe Cameron being down to hook up with you? Like... let’s be real, you were probably never going to be ready to process that. So, for now, you just shoved it into a deep, deep mental box.

So instead, you just said, "Okay, we should really get back before everyone thinks we both have parallel diarrhea."

Cara raised a brow. "Girl, have you seen us together? They’re way more likely to think we’re making out in here."

"Oh, speaking of," you said, grabbing your bag and glancing at her. "Am I crazy or are JJ and Pope giving—"

"Yep."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Hey, why aren’t we tagged?" JJ asked, genuinely offended, holding up his phone screen.

Sarah chuckled. "Because the picture’s only of our drinks."

"Cold," Pope said, and John B nodded in agreement.

"Y’all need to chill your balls," Cara said while filling a little water bowl for Dig. "Everyone knows you’re just the accessories to these hot baddies. No need to tag you separately."

All the girls chuckled in amusement.

"Ouch," John B said with a suppressed smile, giving JJ a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, man, clearly we’re not wanted here."

Sarah laughed, and Kiara nodded along.

"Pope is," Cara noted. "He’s the only one of you who hasn’t made me lose brain cells with the stuff he says."

And fucking Pope smiled all flustered and awkward and honestly, it was like looking into a mirror. "Trying my best."

"Whoa, nope, thanks," JJ said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders and pretending to pull him away from your group, narrowing his eyes at Cara. "Careful, man. Those are Kook compliments. Blink once and she’s got her claws in you like some Fury."

"Sounds like your wildest fantasy," Cara shot back, sipping her Corona.

Yep. She had clearly chosen to enter JJ’s Wonderland tonight.

"Geez, get a room," Kiara said, eyeing them in fake disgust.

JJ scoffed with a crooked grin. "Meh, maybe later," he said, then guided Pope away from the table by his shoulders.

"Alright, you girls have fun," John B said with a smile, giving Sarah’s shoulder a soft squeeze and planting a quick kiss on her cheek before heading down the stairs toward the beach.

God, those two were actual relationship goals. Each of them alone was already Golden Retriever energy, but together? Just... pls adopt me.

Cara clearly felt the same way. "Can you two please get married already?"

Alright, second time within minutes that Cara had brought up marriage. Like, at this point it was painfully obvious that Topper had her thinking about some things.

Sarah chuckled. "You wanna be a bridesmaid?"

Okay, real talk—how long had they known each other now? Two, maybe four hours at most? How the fuck were we already at personal wedding invites?

Cara’s friendship game? Not to be underestimated.

"Fuck yeah," she said with a nod. "I’ll be the damn church bench if I have to."

You all laughed.

"Honestly," Cleo said with a smirk, sipping on her passionfruit lemonade, "every time I saw you and Y/N, I thought you were typical Kook princesses." She chuckled. "Cara’s got the whole shiny blonde hair, heels at a beach party vibe, and she looks like she’d throw hands with a bitch given the right reason."

"Hey, I don’t need a reason," Cara chimed in, smiling proudly.

Cleo nodded, grinning. "Yeah, thanks for proving my point." Then she looked over at you, her smile deepening. "And you? Shit, you’ve got that Death Star stare, like you know something about me I don’t, plus this whole don’t-talk-to-me energy."

You smiled awkwardly. "Yeah... more like my awkward stare and help-I-have-social-anxiety please-don’t-talk-to-me energy."

"Yeah, that’s more accurate," Cara said, raising her brows at Cleo. "So, what you’re saying is: We give off major baddie vibes."

Cleo shrugged, amused. "That and cool girl vibes."

"These Kook-Pogue stereotypes are bullshit anyway," Kiara chimed in, making a face. "Just like there are bitchy Kooks, there are bitchy Pogues. And just like there are hardworking Pogues, there are hardworking Kooks too."

You immediately thought of your parents and nodded. "Guess it’s always easier to judge than to meet somewhere in the middle."

"Whoa, okay, people," Cleo said, laughing. "I wasn’t trying to throw stereotypes around. I just meant, yeah, that judging people by looks or whatever is stupid when you don’t even know them."

Your phone buzzed in your bag. While still half-listening to the conversation, you took a quick glance at the notification.

And your heart dropped.

Is this guy actually crazy?

"...all the patriarchy’s fault and—wait, where are you going?" Cara stopped mid political rant, eyeing you as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Feeling your cheeks heat up like you’d just been caught doing something you shouldn’t, you gave an awkward smile. "Oh, I, um... I’m just gonna grab a water. Be right back."

Judging by their expressions, they all knew what was really going on, but they just nodded, giggling and stifling their smiles.

"Tell Rafe I said hi!" Sarah called after you.

Fucking Camerons, man.

Heart thundering in your chest, you thanked Bob for the glass of water and let your phone plop back into your bag.

Okay, so… like, sure, you and Rafe had gotten to some kind of mutual understanding earlier—basically that you enjoyed each other’s company—but holy hell, the fact that he wanted to pick you up just an hour after dropping you off?

Right. Three possible reasons here:

He didn’t like that you were hanging out with Sarah and Pogues, considering his weird dynamic with his sister and the general class war in his head.

Rafe Cameron was actually clingy with people he liked. At least in private. You had skimmed some of his chat with Kelce, and they seemed really close. And honestly? Last night after your balcony talk, he’d stayed glued to your side until the very end. Like—shit—he probably would’ve followed you into the bathroom if you hadn’t giggled and told him to play bouncer instead.

Barry had been right and Rafe was possessive. Okay, no, not like in a throw-you-into-a-psychological-horror-movie way. Not like a dog with a chew toy either. More like... a kid who couldn’t stand seeing his mom give the baby sibling more attention. Ugh, okay, gross metaphor. You weren’t his mom. But your brain wasn’t coming up with anything better right now.

So yeah. Option one seemed the most realistic, but your gut told you there was probably some truth in the other two as well. Otherwise, your brain wouldn’t have gone there in the first place.

God, where was that positive thinking system you’d come up with on Thursday?

Okay, let’s try that:

Maybe he just really likes spending time with me and he’s excited about the idea of having a new friend, so he’s just a little too eager to hang out again.

Ha. Yeah. Sure.

YES, SURE. DUDE. HELLO??? He literally said he liked you, that he enjoyed being around you, and that he was open to some kind of friendship.

Seriously, how much clearer did your brain need it spelled out? (Also, why did you hear this in Rafe’s voice—help.)

ANYWAY. Time to head back.

“Damn, that must’ve been some really good water you got there, judging by that smile,” Cleo said with a smirk as you returned to the table.

Sarah giggled. “Also took you quite a while for just water.”

“Can’t blame her,” Cara added, grinning. “That water’s got some very visible attributes we clearly don’t.”

Kiara sighed, half exasperated, half amused. “We’re never gonna pass the Bechdel test.”

Your cheeks burned as you sat back down, cradling your glass. “Yeah, sooo... I’m heading out around seven-thirty.”

“You and the water got a date?” Cleo raised her brows with a smirk.

Cara went one further. “You and the water better use protection.”

Your brows knit in hot-faced disbelief as Cleo and Sarah burst out laughing.

Kiara just curled her lips. “Blink three times if you need help.”

Jesus Christ.

“I—no,” you said, laughing in embarrassment. “He’s just picking me up and then I don’t know, probably driving me home.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, we all know damn well that’s not what’s gonna happen.”

“And if it is,” Cleo added, “he can turn his ass right back around. Taking you from us just to drop you at home? Disrespect.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Kiara said dryly.

The way she always talked about him made you think there was some history there. Just... what kind?

“No,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “If that was his goal, he’d already be here. My brother doesn’t have the patience to wait for stuff like that.”

If you only knew.

“Okay, I appreciate you guys cheering this on—or well, not cheering, in Kiara’s case,” you added with a side-smile. “But honestly, this whole topic is frying my brain a little, so if we could shift the gears? That’d be amazing.”

Sarah smiled gently. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to push. It’s just, my brother never puts in effort with any girl. I mean, Wheezie’s kind of the exception, but other than that?” She shrugged. “He takes whatever falls into his lap. Anything more would be too much work. But with you? I don’t know.” She tilted her head, almost fascinated. “It’s like he’s chasing you. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“Duh.” Cara gestured toward you. “Have you seen her?”

Sarah chuckled. “Of course, Y/N’s gorgeous.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck. “But I don’t think you guys realize how unusual it is for Rafe to spend time with a girl and not try to hook up with her. He’s never been into relationships. But now—"

“Oh—um, no. No.” You cut her off, laughing awkwardly and shaking your head like your life depended on it. “That’s not—like, no. This is more of a friendship thingy.”

They all looked at you. Deadpan.

Kiara was the first to speak, brows raised in disbelief. “Yeah, no, trust me. Rafe doesn’t do female friends.”

Sarah also shook her head, but before she could say anything, you raised your hands like you were waving off the whole convo. That tiny little sentence from Barry earlier had already sent you spiraling enough for one day. You didn’t need a rerun.

Especially not after you'd just talked things through with Rafe and nearly driven him to the brink of insanity.

“Please. Seriously, I appreciate your concern and support and everything, but I’m actually really okay with how things are right now,” you said with another nervous laugh. “I mean, I...who even says I’m interested in him like that?”

Another round of flat stares.

Yikes.

You eyed Cara, but she just raised her hands. “All I said was that Rafe dropped you off and you'd come to hang out with us.”

“A girl willingly sticking around to hang out with my brother?” Sarah said, feigning innocence. “I just put one and two together.”

“And girl, them numbers are loud,” Cleo added, clearly entertained.

Alright. If everyone already clocked that you had a crush on Rafe...how the hell had he not picked up on it yet?

Oh. Oh no. Or what if he had?

Jesus fucking Christ WHAT IF HE—

“Okay, I can literally see the gears turning in your head,” Cara said. "And the drinks are empty, so let’s go stretch our legs and hit the beach.”

And that was exactly why this queen was your bestie.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Huh, you're leaving already?" JJ asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Gotta hit the hay or what?"

You’d all regrouped with the guys back in the shady spot on the beach. And honestly? You’d just hung out, chatted, laughed, Cara, Cleo, and JJ had shared a joint, and it had actually been really fun.

They’d welcomed you right in, super chill and easygoing, and the dynamic between them all felt like a little mini family. It was kind of adorable.

But now it was almost 7:30 p.m. and well, you’d promised Rafe to dip at this time.

You smiled a bit awkwardly. “No, I just…” Am getting picked up by the guy you all seem to hate. “…I already had plans for tonight,” you decided to go with.

“It’s fine, you can say his name,” John B said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “He’s not, like, the Darth Vader.”

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Wrong franchise, dude. You mean the Dark Lord.”

Everyone laughed in unison.

“Okay, okay,” Cara said. “We promised her we’d drop the subject.” She stood up and helped you to your feet. “Now chop chop, Cinderella’s got a carriage to catch.”

She gave you a tight squeeze goodbye, grinning wide, which of course triggered a whole wave of hugs.

First Sarah, who jumped up next and hugged you warmly with a “Have fun, see you soon,” then Cleo and Kie, who added a good-natured “Don’t let him get away with any crap,” and JJ, who patted your shoulder and told you, “Protection first, fun second,” and finally Pope and John B, who said, “Take care and we’ll probably see you tomorrow, yeah? You guys are coming, right?”

Oh right, the open-air movie night.

Cara nodded for both of you. “Absolutely.”

“Want us to pick you up?” John B offered.

“Uh-huh, we’ll sort that out tomorrow,” Cara said, already nudging you away from the group.

With one last smile and a wave, you turned and headed back over the dunes toward the parking lot where Rafe had dropped you off.

Whew. Another wild chapter of today officially crossed off the list.

Now that you actually had a moment to yourself—no one talking your ear off or asking about Rafe—you finally had time to think.

Except… you couldn’t.

No thoughts. Head empty.

No energy left whatsoever. And no, that wasn’t really the Pogues’ fault. God no, they were all basically drama-free, free-spirited serotonin boosters. But the day itself had just been a lot.

And your body? Still recovering from last night and probably processing the final fragments of your hangover.

And the worst and best part? No time to exhale, because Rafe was already there, waiting with his black Benz in the parking lot, the setting sun throwing golden glints off the sleek surface.

Only when you got to the passenger side did you catch your reflection and realize you were grinning like an absolute idiot.

Already hit my peak craziness today, can’t get any worse, you thought as you climbed into the car with a cheerful, “Hi.”

Fuck. Every single time, it hit you again. Those painfully blue eyes of his. Then the scent of his cologne, the now-familiar smell of his car, that slightly unbuttoned polo shirt, and—oh. He was wearing his hair in curtain bangs style again.

He’d had it like that this morning too, now that you thought about it. But you were only really noticing it now that your head was clear enough to focus.

“What’s with the smile?” he asked, raising an amused brow and turning down the volume on the Kendrick Lamar track playing through the speakers.

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just…” You glanced at his hair. “Too lazy for the slick back today?”

Rafe scoffed and started the car. “Nah, just taking a girl’s advice.”

YOU. HE MEANT YOU. OMG.

No way. Had he actually taken your little compliment from last night to heart? When you'd said curtain bangs suited him more than his usual style?

For some reason, that made your heart race fast.

“You take advice?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline spike. “Wow. That’s a first.”

To your surprise, he didn’t laugh or clap back with something snarky. No, he actually furrowed his brow, let out a bitter scoff, and pulled out of the lot. “Looks like Sarah and her little loser friends are already rubbing off on you.”

You blinked. Was he serious right now?

“Yeah, well I was joking,” you replied flatly.

Rafe glanced at you for a second. There was something—hesitation, maybe—in his eyes. “Yeah, some really funny joke, hanging out with people like that.”

Okay. Seriously? Fuck. That.

You were not in the mood for this bullshit right now.

“Okay, wait no,” you said, turning your body to face him fully, “I don’t know what your problem is with them or your sister, as a matter of fact, but keep me out of it. And, just so we’re clear: I can hang out with whoever I want, regardless of how you feel about them. Plus, if you’re gearing up for some kind of confrontation or Pogues-are-scum lecture, let me out of the car right now. I’ll go back to said ‘losers.’” You made exaggerated air quotes.

“And also,” you raised your eyebrows, more amused than angry now, “did you seriously just call me a loser?”

Now it was Rafe who blinked, clearly thrown off, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he threw you a very dry side-eye.

And as good as it felt to have said all that, to shut him down before the confrontation even had a chance to erupt, part of you couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t actually start a fight now.

Not now, not when things between you were going so well. When you were at the peak of your… getting-to-know-each-other-project-partner-acquaintanceship.

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don’t blow up now.

“Shit, do I look like someone who hangs out with losers?” he finally said, and although he sounded tense—like, tense enough to physically restrain himself from crashing the car—there was an amused undertone to his voice.

Translated from moody-Rafe-speak, that probably meant something like: You’re not a loser. I didn’t mean it like that.

You let out a breath, but your voice stayed firm. “Well, apparently I do. And clearly, that bothers you.”

“Shit, yeah, I mean, why are you hanging out with my sister?” he asked, shrugging in irritation. “That’s weird as fuck.”

You shook your head, already irritated. “And what exactly is so weird about that?”

That seemed to make him think for a second. Maybe you should piss him off more often, then he’d actually start using his brain.

“I don’t know, it just is, okay?” he snapped back, somehow sounding both soft and frustrated.

You just stared at him, completely deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Rafe scoffed. “Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me.”

“Okay, you wanna know what’s weird?” you said, raising your brows and gesturing toward yourself. “Telling me who I can and can’t hang out with. That’s weird. You’re not my dad, you’re not my mom. And I don’t even take that kinda shit from them.”

Rafe furrowed his brows like you were the crazy one. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not telling you what to do, I’m questioning your judgment.”

“What fucking judgment?” you snapped back. “They’re just normal people. And one of them happens to be your own sister. How can you talk about her like that?”

And now the craziest part: Rafe was clearly tense and worked up. It was obvious he didn’t like that you’d hung out with Pogues today, that you got along with Sarah. Like, he wanted so badly to keep picking at you, to criticize you, throw some kind of blame your way.

But all he did was exhale sharply, clench his jaw tight, and mutter, “Shit. I’m not in the mood for this shit right now.”

Okay. Something was definitely off. Rafe Cameron… backing out of a confrontation? Nah. Universe must’ve glitched.

“No, I want to know why it bothers you,” you pushed, surprised by your own willingness to keep going, considering this was probably playing with fire. “I mean, I think your sister’s cool. Shouldn’t that… I don't know make you happy or something?”

Rafe scowled. “Fucking great, you two are besties now.”

Oh my God. This was starting to sound an awful lot like theory #3 from earlier: Rafe being lowkey possessive.

“Cara is my best friend,” you said calmly, though really, you were just trying to outsmart the spiral slowly forming in your head by faking some semblance of calm, “but yeah, Sarah’s probably a great friend, too.”

Rafe clenched his jaw so tight, you could see a vein popping in his neck. His chest rose and fell like he was trying hard—really hard—not to lose it.

But despite the tension, he looked a little lost, like he didn’t know what to say. Hesitant. Unsure. And somehow, that clawed at your chest. He’d been so patient with your spiral earlier, so maybe it was your turn to meet him halfway when he had his little moody episode.

“I’m just trying to understand why this is hitting a nerve,” you said softly. “I mean, Sarah seems really nice and kind to me. But maybe she’s different around you. Of course, that’s not really my place to—”

“She’s a greedy bitch, okay?” Rafe snapped, his tone almost hateful, eyes fixed on the road ahead with shocking intensity. Then he glanced at you—pure rage flickering in his eyes. “She sticks her curios nose into everything, always has to be faster, smarter, better than everyone else.” He shook his head, eyes darting forward again. “And everyone treats her like some fucking princess, like she’s royalty or some shit, just for batting her damn lashes. Even at home.”

His voice had taken on a dangerously sharp edge. Visibly agitated, he jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I’m the one driving Wheezie around. I’m the one who listens to Rose’s bullshit. I’m the one who’s always backing Dad. I’m the one who deserves the kind of shit Sarah gets handed for free. But no one fucking sees that. Everyone’s too blinded by her fake charm and smiles.”

His face, already twisted with emotion, looked almost pained with the bruise still visible on his cheek. “Every fucking person in my life she tries to turn against me or pull over to her side. Dad. Wheezie. Fucking Topper, once. And now you,” he said, gesturing to you in one swift, bitter motion. “And I’m so fucking sick of her always getting away with it.”

The frustration and bitterness that followed cracked in his voice. “Every time she’s about to fall, there’s always some fucker there to catch her.” His brows twitched, and then his eyes finally locked with yours—sharp, bitter, and frustrated. “And I’m just so fucking sick of being the only one who sees through her bullshit.”

You were stunned. Completely thrown off by the sheer weight of what had just spilled out of him. All the anger, the bitterness, the jealousy but underneath it all, what you really heard was desperation. Frustration. A fear of being left behind. And maybe a deep-rooted sense of not being good enough.

And if you had to guess… the root of it all wasn’t really Sarah.

It was Ward Cameron.

Because no matter how hard he tried to pin the blame on his sister, something about the way he spoke… it didn’t feel like she was the real issue.

You didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, of course, but your gut told you: His dad was the reason Rafe was like this.

The way he always talked about his dad, like Ward was some flawless, perfect man. The way Rafe instantly tensed whenever his father was even mentioned. The way he’d completely flipped into submissive mode when talking to a male authority figure—like your dad—calling him sir, being polite to the point it was almost… eerie.

And then, of course, the way he couldn’t hold a normal conversation without posturing, getting defensive, or misinterpreting every neutral word as an attack. Like he literally didn’t know how to express a single honest feeling.

Like that had to be the result of some kind of suppressed trauma.

And this? Rafe voicing his frustration out loud? To you?

That made your heart ache for this angry, wounded boy who maybe wasn’t so stupid after all. Just bitter. And broken.

And as much as you wanted to tell him that Sarah wasn’t the real problem, that he needed to take a long, hard look at his dad, open his damn eyes—it would’ve been pointless.

His hate, his bitterness toward Sarah ran deep. Too deep for you to reach right now.

So you tried a different approach.

Because what he really seemed to ache for was to feel seen. Maybe the only thing you could do right now was acknowledge that.

“If I’d rather hang out with Sarah, I wouldn’t be here right now,” you said softly, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned your own words.

Rafe's brows twitched like he was weighing the truth in your words, but then he shook his head bitterly, eyes fixed on the slowly darkening road. "You don't fucking get it. That invite to her stupid little hangout was just the start of her bullshit. She always gets what she wants, eventually." He scoffed. "You already jumped at the first chance she gave you."

Let's add Theory #4: Rafe being scared of abandonment.

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, taking a slow breath in. This wasn’t just playing with fire—this felt like walking across a paper-thin glass dome, already cracking beneath your feet, threatening to shatter and drag you down at any second.

"But Sarah wasn’t the one who called me or asked me to come," you reminded him softly. "Cara wanted me there. She needed advice about JJ. If she hadn’t needed my help, I wouldn’t have asked you to drop me off." A small, almost amused chuckle slipped from your lips. “Not after driving you this close to insanity.”

That seemed to ease some of the tension in his body.

With a stern look, he muttered, "She's chasing fucking Maybank? Of all the shitty-ass Pogue rats, she chooses him?"

You laughed at the dry amusement in his tone and how quickly his demeanor had shifted. "Yeah, but I doubt it'll turn into a long-term thingy. Topper kinda flipped all her principles upside down."

Rafe didn’t respond. He just kept staring ahead, a stormy mix of exhaustion, confusion, and frustration in his eyes.

It was strange seeing him shut down like this, considering he was always the one with the cocky remarks and sharp comebacks. But right now? He felt like a wolf shedding his skin to reveal the sheep underneath.

“If what’s got you scared is—” you started, but he cut you off immediately.

"I'm not fucking scared, alright?" he snapped. "I’m just not in the mood to waste my fucking time on someone who’s already dancing to Sarah’s tune."

In other words: he was scared.

You eyed his harsh profile, your gaze soft. “Okay, but I don’t get why you'd even think that. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“The fuck do I know,” Rafe muttered, voice tinged with visible frustration. “Why’d you stay over there then, huh? Or did Sarah send you to spy on me?”

Paranoid too. Fantastic.

An amused smile tugged at your lips. “Well, for starters, Cara was there, and I’d already promised her we’d hang out today anyway. So I figured I might as well knock that out." You toyed with the strap of your bag. “And, even if you don’t want to hear it—or won’t get it—I actually thought the people there were… nice. Welcoming even. To me, at least.”

Rafe looked about two seconds away from pulling over and kicking you out of the car, so you hurried on: “But as friendly as they were… they’re also a lot. Like, imagine a room full of Caras, Kelces, and Toppers all at once,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Sure, it’s fun in small doses. But for someone like me? That's exhausting.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, but Rafe didn’t meet your gaze—just kept staring straight ahead, uncertainty written all over his face. A heavy silence settled in the car.

"And this right here?" you continued, your voice suddenly quiet. "This is like a welcome escape."

Only the soft hum of the engine and the loud pounding of your heart filled the air as you waited for his reply.

The light turned green, casting a glow across the car’s hood but Rafe didn’t move the car. In the side mirror you only spotted an empty road behind you.

Rafe's eyes finally met yours, and for some reason, with that bruise on his face and the exhaustion in his gaze, he looked wrecked. Completely worn down, like he didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

“See, that’s the thing,” he said flatly, his usual fire missing. He gestured vaguely to his chest. “I don’t want the doll Sarah tosses away after she breaks it.”

That sounded a hell of a lot like I’m sick of being everyone’s second choice.

Jesus. This boy had issues so deeply tangled it made your chest ache. All you wanted in that moment was to hug him.

“Good thing I’m not a doll, then,” you said with a soft chuckle. “And maybe I worded that badly. I didn’t mean it like I’m just using this,”you motioned between the two of you,“as some kind of doormat.”

You tilted your head slightly, tapping your finger against your temple as the light turned red again. “That would be a shitty move, especially considering I recently just mentally added you to my friend book today.”

And just like that, the hard edge in Rafe’s face melted. His crooked smile crept back, and the heavy storm cloud hanging over you both finally drifted on. “Shit, you actually did that?”

Was that really all he needed? A little acknowledgment? Some reassurance? It was almost like you both carried the same core issues, just rooted differently.

You smiled wide and shrugged. “Your folder idea wasn’t bad not gonna lie, but that felt a bit too impersonal for me.”

Rafe scoffed, amused, and god, your heart flipped at that familiar sound. “Thinking about it, maybe Sarah can have you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Your crazy ass would fit right into her fucked-up group.”

A laugh burst from your lips. “You can still turn around.”

His brows twitched, a flicker of irritation in his eyes.

Oh god—no way he thought you actually meant that.

So you quickly added, “But I’d much rather stay here.”

Rafe held your gaze for a moment, his expression still harsh, but the green traffic light seemed to soften the sharp lines of his face at just the right angles.

Funny enough, he actually did remind you of a Doberman—sharp, alert, a little intimidating, but really just an anxious soul underneath.

A loud, grating honk made both of you jump.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, startled, pressing a hand to your chest.

Rafe glanced up at the rearview mirror, scowling. “Fucking Pogue in his shitty-ass truck.”

“Just drive, please,” you said, half-nervous, half-amused, glancing through the rear window. “That guy actually does not look friendly.”

Rafe let out an amused breath as he finally started moving the Benz. "Guess there’s still a little bit of reason left in that crazy head of yours."

And just like that, the energy between you two was back to normal. Or, well—as normal as it could be, considering neither of you was exactly normal. You had a full-blown overthinking-spiral problem, while Rafe... yeah, let’s not even try to unpack those issues.

Still, that one moment where he’d let out some of his frustration—even if it had been aimed at his poor sister—only made the pull you already felt toward him even stronger.

It was like, every day, he peeled back another layer of himself. Compared to the beginning of the week? Holy fuck, that was a completely different ball game.

Where you’d been anxious as hell just riding shotgun to Kelce’s place on Tuesday, now you felt this calm, this ease around him. Rafe had started out as nothing more than an intimidating crush but now? He was just a guy, carrying way too much unprocessed shit, trying to bottle it up in public.

And despite the absolute oceans of differences between the two of you, despite constantly arguing, snapping at each other, and testing each other’s patience daily—somehow, it worked.

He shut down your overthinking, and you drove him fucking insane. Nah, just kidding. (Actually… not really.) You helped him be real, humbled his cocky ass now and then.

And maybe that’s why this weird project-partner-acquaintance-kinda-friends-now-ship was working for both of you.

OKAY GIRL, that’s enough thinking for today, damn. Just chill out already.

And you did.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, letting the moon and stars take center stage. Rafe was just cruising around the Outer Banks without any real plan. Kendrick Lamar and J. Cole played in the background, and at some point he even tossed you his phone to pick songs yourself. You caught him tapping his finger to the beat of Tame Impala and Suki Waterhouse, even though he had the audacity to call it “depressed emo girl music.”

Other than that, the two of you just vibed. Rafe bitched about Kelce and Topper, you both talked shit about Chris Reid and Ruthie, and you rambled on about some design ideas for your school project and how to execute them in collage form, until Rafe had had enough of the school talk and, surprisingly, steered the convo back toward your little beach hangout earlier.

You could tell he was physically restraining himself from crashing out, but he still nodded, showed some (fake) genuine interest, and only threw in a couple minor passive-aggressive comments.

Another small win.

Around ten, you both got the munchies. After going back and forth way too long, you finally insisted on McDonalds.

Rafe nearly cried (no joke) as he squeezed his massive Benz into the way-too-narrow drive-thru lane. Then he almost had a full-blown breakdown when the cashier handed him your milkshake without a lid—because God forbid his precious seats got dirty. Luckily, the lady was kind enough to give him one before the panic attack fully set in.

And once you were in the car? He opened every window and door to eat—because, apparently, the fabric seats were at risk of absorbing “that garbage smell.”

Jesus Christ, this guy was a drama queen.

“You know,” you said, laughing as you daintily picked up a fry, still not over the fact that he actually paid for your order too, “we could’ve just eaten inside.”

Rafe just scoffed as he layered, like, seven hundred napkins across his lap. “It’s bad enough I even showed up here. No way in hell I’m letting anyone see me inside that cracked-out hellhole.”

You seriously doubted anyone gave a single fuck that Rafe Cameron was picking up 9-piece nuggets and a Big Mac meal on a Saturday night at McDonald’s, but sure—let’s not ruin his illusion.

He then frantically gathered every single piece of trash and had you throw it out so no one would catch him in the act.

Then the car just sat there, windows wide open, for ten whole minutes to “air out the cursed stench,” before he finally drove off again.

About an hour later, around 11, a heavy wave of sleepiness hit you. You’d barely slept the night before and had spent half the day with a lingering hangover. Tomorrow, you at least wanted to feel like a semi-functional human.

So yeah, you decided to call it a day.

Rafe looked mildly offended, but truth be told, he seemed ready to pass out too. That didn’t stop him from taking the longest, most unnecessary detour ever (clingy Rafe confirmed) before finally pulling into your parents’ driveway half an hour later.

“Thanks for the ride. And the food,” you said when the engine shut off and everything went quiet.

Rafe let out a breath, half amused. “Pretty sure you can’t even legally call that crap food.”

“You sure didn’t hesitate with those nuggets, though,” you teased, smiling.

“Protein,” was all he mumbled in response.

You laughed softly. “Sure.” Then unbuckled and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, well... uh... I guess I’ll...” OH GOD WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY.

Last night you’d been absolutely wasted so you hadn’t given a single shit, but now??? Awkward silence GO.

“Wait, I’ll get the door,” Rafe mumbled, unbuckling too. “Don’t want your dad kicking my ass because I didn’t open it for you.”

You looked at him in disbelief, amused. “He’s definitely already asleep.”

Rafe opened his door with a frown. “Not risking another fucking bruise.”

You felt this weird, fluttery feeling in your chest and stomach as he walked over to your side and actually opened the door for you. Clutching your bag strap, you got out with a quiet, “Thanks.”

With a soft thud, Rafe shut the car door behind you.

“So,” Rafe said flatly, “do I have a sniper’s red dot on my forehead yet?”

You chuckled. “He was a combat medic, not a sniper.”

“And now chief physician,” Rafe said deadpan. “Pretty sure he’s got some shady connections and could get my doctor to prescribe me something lethal.”

You laughed again. “Alright, I better head inside before you start spouting more half-asleep conspiracy theories.”

“I’m wide awake,” he chuckled. “You need me to walk you to the door or you got this?”

You glanced at the door and nodded, your brows furrowed. “Dunno, what if some Pogue’s lurking behind the bushes?”

Rafe let out a dry “Fucking hilarious,” and then PUT HIS HAND ON YOUR BACK TO GENTLY STEER YOU TOWARD THE DOOR.

ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM.

Exactly six steps later, he dropped his hand. “I’m not tucking you in though,” he said, and of course added with a crooked grin, “Unless you’re scared of sleeping alone.”

UM. HELPPPPPPPPPP.

A half-embarrassed, half-anxious laugh escaped your throat, your chest and neck heating up, and you shook your head. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

“Aight,” he said. And then—something shifted in his usual cocky posture. It could almost be interpreted as hesitation. Or nerves.

Okay, guess you had to say something now.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” you said, amused.

“Nah, I just…” He scratched his chin, his face twisting into a grimace. “I went to the gas station earlier after I dropped you off. Had to fill up my car.”

You nodded. “Sounds like something you’d do at a gas station.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, followed by a “No shit, smartass,” the corner of his mouth twitching up in the faintest smile. “Okay, I just—when I was at the checkout, you know how they always have those shelves full of random dumb crap?”

“Gas station core,” you replied deadpan, trying to mask the way your nerves were absolutely going crazy, BECAUSE RAFE BEING NERVOUS ONLY MADE YOU TEN TIMES MORE NERVOUS.

Rafe looked at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah, and they had that dumb horse merch, that—what’s it called, that damn cartoon?”

“My Little Pony?”

He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever.” His hand slipped into his pocket. Then he pulled out a palm-sized yellow-pink plastic bag. “Anyway, figured your fucked-up brain might need this. All that stuff you said earlier about needing clarity and shit like that.”

He held it out to you, a smile on his face that didn’t quite match his usual cockiness. “Didn’t craft it myself though, but guess it’ll do.”

[system shutting down, please consider doing a backup]

…

DBJKHKSUEGFBVMLCDMCDJVGFSDWODJFDNCJKFLSÖ;XNAAGHDFSMDS;KMKSXKDWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT

WHAT.

Your heart was pounding, nerves threatening to explode, adrenaline ready to hand you a goddamn stroke.

THIS. OH MY FUCKING GOD.

You probably looked like a complete idiot—lips slightly parted, eyes wide, just straight up staring at the thing in his hand.

You had no idea what to say or do. Despite the crooked smile on his face, Rafe looked way too serious for this to be a joke.

“Shit, take it already. I can see the minions in your head running around in panic,” he said and basically forced the bag into your hands.

You took it and stared, baffled. A smiley Fluttershy was printed on the front, surrounded by pastel pink hearts and yellow stars. And right under the big-ass MLP logo, in bold letters, it said: “Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life.”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP EXPLODING DYING REBOOTING.

MENTALLY JUMPING OFF A CLIFF.

Actually physically vibrating.

Okay. Okay. You needed to get a grip before you actually combusted or—holy shit—started crying for absolutely no reason.

Your eyes met his again, adrenaline surging through every damn corner of your body. “That’s... I don’t even... thank you, that’s really sweet.”

“Jesus, please don’t thank me for spending money on that shit,” he scoffed, stepping closer, his finger tapping the plastic. “And look, it says ‘friendship bracelet’. Not ‘I’m-trying-to-get-in-your-pants-or-use-you-for-a-hookup bracelet’.”

His intense blue eyes locked onto yours, and holy shit HE WAS CLOSE CLOSE. He tapped his own head. “That clear enough for your crazy brain? Or is there still some stupid little minion in there running his mouth? ‘Cause if so, I’ll knock the little shit out myself.”

Even though you were massively taken aback by this incredibly and unexpectedly sweet gesture, you somehow managed a laugh. “No, I think that should do it.”

Rafe let out a strained breath. “Jesus Christ. Fucking finally.”

You smiled, cheeks hot. “Where’s yours?”

“What?”

“Your bracelet,” you said, amused at his baffled expression. “Friendship bracelets only make sense if both people wear them.”

Rafe gave you a blank stare. “Shit. Wait, what? You actually wanna wear that?”

“Yeah, why not?” you chuckled. “You bought it for me, might as well put it to use.”

Rafe scoffed. “That crap didn’t even cost five dollars.”

“And?”

“And it was clearly just meant to make a point. Didn’t actually expect you wanting to wear that shit."

“Okay well, let me at least see what it looks like,” you said, tearing the little bag open.

And—holy shit.

You’d expected some hideous, oversaturated, cringey kid bracelet with plastic hearts and cursed Fluttershy charms but this was actually ridiculously cute. And definitely not sized for a child’s wrist.

A silver chain with pastel-colored hearts, flowers, and beads dangled between little silver charms: a butterfly, a key—OH MY GOD.

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning as you looked at him. “I like it.”

Rafe scowled dramatically, raising a brow. “Lemme guess, you want me to put it on for you.”

DKFJHSDHFBVJDLNSKADNVJSDFKLS YES PLEASE.

“That’d be nice,” you said quietly, handing him the bracelet.

You held out your arm, and Rafe stepped even closer, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist from underneath. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clumsily fumbled with the clasp, his expression focused like he was defusing a bomb.

You couldn’t even laugh at how badly he was struggling with a literal children’s bracelet because your heart was pounding so loud, your breathing had basically stopped because you could feel his warm breath on your wrist.

“Fucking hell, what is this shitty-ass clasp,” he muttered, brows pulled together in frustration. But finally he managed to close it, letting out a breath like he’d just survived a 24-hour brain surgery.

“Thanks,” you said as he stepped back, your eyes dropping to the bracelet and the tiny little charms dangling from it. You were smiling like an idiot. “It’s actually really pretty.”

Rafe looked at you like he was now absolutely convinced you belonged in the ‘mentally unstable’ section. “Shit, well, I guess as long as it spares me from another long-ass conversation.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe on that topic, but I can’t make any promises in general.”

“Aight,” he said, making a hush motion with his hand. “Better get inside before I regret buying that crap.”

“Okay,” you said, probably still grinning like a dumb idiot. And then—you took a step forward, courage powered by a serotonin overdose, and hoped to EVERYTHING ABOVE he would catch the signal and not turn this into the most awkward goodbye of your life.

AND HE GOT IT.

Rafe stepped forward too, immediately wrapping his arms around you. Your own found their way around his neck. The little bracelet jingled between you, and you actually giggled like a total idiot because of this. This was everything and more.

His warm body pressed against yours, the scent of his cologne, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back—SJDHAKJDHKDJWH.

When you both pulled away, you were smiling at each other like two hopelessly dumb idiots. And of course, this dumb idiot in particular had to ruin it with some stupid comment.

Rafe nodded toward your wrist. “Try not to think about me when you—”

“Mh-hm, good night.”

He laughed, boyish and smug. “Aight. Sweet dreams.”

With that, he turned around, and you let out the most tension-filled breath of your entire life. Because what. the actual. fuck. Like--

“Oh, and you’re coming tomorrow, right?”

You looked up while digging for your keys. “What?”

“That shitty-ass open air thing,” Rafe said. “Topper’s driving, so you can get wasted again if you want.”

Oh. Now it was fine that you were riding with Topper? This guy made zero sense.

“Um, yeah... can we discuss that tomorrow?” you asked with a sheepish smile. “I still have to check in with Cara.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, but he nodded.

You exchanged one last round of goodnights, and finally—finally—you made it into your house. Without overthinking, you went straight to your room, shut the door, and collapsed onto your bed with the biggest motherfucking grin on your face.

And without even letting yourself process what kind of batshit insane day this had been, you knew you had to text Cara. Or rather, send a voice memo. And then tomorrow morning you’d have to suffer through like a thousand delusional, chaotic messages in response.

But when you opened your messaging app, a final (hopefully final) surprise of the day was already waiting for you.

You sighed, now LITERALLY completely finished for today. But just as you were about to switch your phone to airplane mode and get ready for bed—this:

You immediately put your phone into airplane mode, shut that thing off and tossed it onto your nightstand. Then you quickly got into your pyjama set, brushed your teeth and hurried back into bed.

Tucking yourself comfortably into the blankets, you force-shut your eyes and tried to ignore your thundering heart.

Your head was FULL. Like it had reached maximum capacity and workload today. AND NOW RAFE WAS BACK AGAIN WITH HIS CHEEKY LITTLE MESSAGES AND THAT CRAZILY GOOD LOOKING MIRROR SELFIE, GOOD HEAVENS HELP ME.

And that after he'd claimed--

NOPE. NO SPIRALING NOW. No overthinking, no questioning, no coming up with theories.

Absolutely not.

Rafe’s a flirty guy. He literally said so himself. And he was right, flirting didn't have to lead to anything. Plus, he just gifted you a freaking friendship bracelet like twenty minutes ago. So you’re not going to ruin your happy little bubble again.

That’s it for today. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of time for unnecessary mental gymnastics and whatnot.

Brain, shut up now. Good night.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T (soon) ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife @persiar9

[divinitysotherside]

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

JUST WANT YOUR PUSSY !

ᯓ★ . “if i were a zombie, i’d never eat your brain, i just want your pussy ?”

pairing . choso kamo x reader

warnings . smut – mdni , choso and reader are both of age , zombie choso , zombie apocalypse , choso can control the fungus or something cause he’s a half curse , reader’s first time , mentions of overstimulation , pussyeating , established relationship

choso was still not back. he had just told you that he’ll look for food and other supplies you both need, but it’s been 4 hours, and he’s not back yet.

you look outside of the window of the house you and choso were staying in, seeing the horde of zombies roaming around. the apocalypse truly was brutal.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after a few more hours of your anxiety kicking in, choso finally got back. “choso! i was worried sick!” you yell, pouncing on him playfully as he entered the house.

“sorry to worry you,” he smiled, caressing your back as you clung to him. “i needed to fight some zombies while coming back.”

you peppered his neck with kisses, making sure to hug him tightly, showing him just how much you missed him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

it wasn’t until choso was alone in the bathroom, taking a shower, when he noticed the hidden bite on his arm.

shit, he was infected.

his discovery soon fell in vain, though, as he felt his mind going blank. “fuck,” he cursed, relief washing over him when his skin didn’t turn green.

maybe because he was a half–curse, who knows?

but he started drooling, and he knew he could only control his hunger for a while. so he hurriedly barged out of the bathroom, searching for you.

“my dear,” he called out, panting as he finally found you.

you look up at him, confused. “yes, choso?” you ask, tilting your head.

that was until you noticed him drooling, and he obviously looked like he was struggling or.. fighting something back. panting and everything.

“choso? are you okay?” you ask, concerned. standing up, you look into his eyes, examining him.

“n–no, you need to get out of here. i’m infected!” he blurted, stepping away from you. “i know i can.. only stop myself for a limited a–amount of time, so get out while you still...can!” he grits his teeth, obviously fighting the virus back.

“choso, no! i won’t leave you here! you think i’m gonna do that when we already did so much together!?” you ran over to him, pulling him in a tight embrace.

you know you should leave if you still wanna see another day, but fuck it, it’s either you die with choso or you won’t accept death.

“b–baby, leave, please..” choso murmurs, his hands tightening on your skin as he holds you. it’s clear that he can’t fight the virus anymore, but he tries.

“no, i won’t! i love you, choso, and i will prove that!” you cried, clinging onto him tightly. “you have already p–proved that to me!”

choso tries to push you off, but his attempts are futile, and he then starts to lose control, his mind going blank, his mouth drooling.

he then pushes you away, his force stronger than before. “c–choso, i’m not leaving—” you look up, seeing choso’s eyes, lacking irises. he looked messed up, and messed up bad.

the virus has taken its effect.

“shit,” you curse, switching up on yourself as you scan the room for nearby weapons. as you reach for your metal bat, choso grabs your arm, forcing you to look up at him.

“fuck off!” you barked, struggling as you try to hit him with your free hand, but he catches it again. his skin was still like before, and it’s probably because of his half-curse blood.

he pounces on you, making you fall to the floor with choso pinning your arms above your head. he was growling, already out of his mind as you look up at him, terrified at what happened to your lover.

“c–choso! get off!” you yell, but it reached deaf ears. “ choso ” was already out of his mind, and this was definitely not him.

“w–waant you,” he managed to grumble in a distorted voice—is he still there? can he fight the infection? “choso!? listen to me! g–get off!” but his grip only tightened, enough to leave bruises.

“sorry,” you hear him mutter as he leans down to bury his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. his warm tongue then drags along your soft flesh, from your neck, your collarbones, to just above your breasts.

“hungry,” choso whispers, one of his clawed hands coming up to rip your shirt off slowly, exposing your chest to his gaze. “c–choso..” you mumble, your breath hitching once his hand squeezes one of your tits.

his tongue then swirled on one of your nipples, before sucking on it fully. you watch as he continues to satisfy his "hunger", his iris-lacking eyes then dropping lower.

he leans down, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself—his face between your legs. “l–let me,” he growls, already burying his face in your panties.

as soon as you nod, he rips your panties off, licking your slit. he groans at your taste, determined to have more of you. he dives in, his tongue messily swirling your pussy in a desperate attempt to eat you out.

you moan, your hand flying to tangle itself in his hair, bucking your hips against his face. you bite your lower lip, the man—zombie between your legs beginning to enter your cunt via his tongue.

your legs trembled as you neared your orgasm, his tongue relentlessly licking up your juices caused your grip on his hair to tighten—moaning as you came.

and as choso hungrily takes everything you had to offer, he didn’t stop eating you out.

with a zombie that technically can go all night? good luck.

a/n . tysm for reading this fic ! i wasn’t able to post anything because our wifi went out for 5 days and i couldn’t post :(

[plutocisms]

NSFW Alphabet for Shouta Aizawa

A (Aftercare) what are they like after sex?

He will clean you up and get you any and everything you need. He likes to check in on how it was for you and have a little pillow talk. Don’t think about moving afterwards he wants to cuddle, even if he doesn’t say it. 

B (Body Part) favorite on themselves and of their partner

He doesn’t have a favorite part on himself, but if he really had to pick It’d probably be his arms, He likes when you grab onto them and compliment them.

On you he looooves your waist and is constantly keeping eye contact with you because he also loves your eyes.

C (Cum) anything to do w/ it basically

He prefers to release on your stomach (as much as he would love to inside of you, he’s against it until you guys are intent of actually trying) and can’t get enough of the way you taste, yeah he’s tying that hair up for you. 

D (Dirty little secret) self explanatory

He was too embarrassed to let you know but he snuck a new headboard in after breaking one from his grip one night while having his way with you. He actually called Yamada to help him with this and to get rid of the previous one but obviously didn’t tell him the reason why even though he poked an prodded for an answer as to what happened.

E (Experience) also pretty self explanatory

He has some experience but it’s limited, he’s pretty standoffish so doesn’t normally get very involved.

F (Favorite postition) ^

Loves classic missionary, Face off, & prone bone. He’s not picky tho but those would be his go-to positions.

G (Goofy) are they more playful or serious in the moment?

This is actually one time where he can let loose a bit, he’s not cracking them left and right but he likes to tease and can actually lighten up a bit here from time to time. 

H (Hair) how are they groomed down there?

Oh it’s a bit scruffy down there, trimmed but there’s deffly some hair.

I (Intimacy) are they more romantic or lustful in the moment?

He’s pretty passionate, he loves looking into your eyes during, kissing you, holding you and enjoys talking through it—not too much but just enough. 

J (Jack Off) masturbation headcanon

He’s really not one to dabble, at least when he’s in a relationship and even outside of one he’s not big into it, he’s got a lot of discipline and is never really down too bad.

K (Kink(s)) self explanatory :)

He loves sleepy sex, wake up roll over in the middle of the night type shii, He’s also into the idea of being waken up with a surprise if yk what I mean. He’s into a bit of dirty talk. Tell him what you like/want him to do to you. He wouldn’t say anything about it, he won’t refer to himself as such but he low-key gets hot and bothered if you call him Daddy— it catches him off guard in a way he can’t fight off.

L (Location) where they like to do it

He loves the comfort of his home so pretty much anywhere there is a green light. The bed, couch, shower all of it. He’s open to doing it other places but you’d really have to convince him.

M (Motivation) what gets them in the mood?

He really loves seeing you your element doing anything. It’s the little things. The way you walk, catching a whiff of your scent, watching you sleep, any physical touch from you, this is a simple man.

N (No) what they wont do in the bedroom

He’s not into the idea of sharing you or anything that would cause you real pain, I also don’t see him degrading his partner.

O (Oral) do they enjoy giving/receiving?

He can eat it till you cry and then some. He loves being between your thighs and making you feel good. As far as receiving he really enjoys watching you take him all in, both are very good stress relief for him.

P (Pace) how fast or slow are they during?

He’s got a good pace, very sensual. He actually likes when you dictate the pace—more than willing to accommodate your needs. In general though, he normally picks up the pace quite a bit on his own when he’s close.

Q (Quickies) how do they feel about them?

He doesn’t prefer them over a proper session, but can still have his fun, it’s also a bit of a a turn on for him, the challenge of getting you off in a time crunch.

R (Risks) are they willing to take them?

He’s not very risky, he doesn’t like the idea of getting caught. This man risks his life on a consistent basis and enjoys the comfort and safety of you. He’s not trying anything crazy with you.

S (Stamina) how long can they last?

He’s got a solid two rounds in him before he needs a break/nap inbetween. They are long rounds and  in all honesty he could last a little longer (man’s a pro hero) but performance gets a little sloppy after those first two.

T (Toys) are they into them, do they have any?

Tbh Aizawa is a little uninterested in complicating things too much in the bedroom. He’s open to suggestions but doesn’t bring any of his own volition

U (Unfair) are they a tease basically

He’s not super unfair mostly because he’s hoping if he’s not with you—you won’t be too much with him (he’s got a love-hate relationship with it, drives him nuts in a good way)

V (Volume) how loud are they during

May be a little surprising but he actually is quite talkative and has some volume. He is into giving praise with you and he lets you know just how good you make him feel. Low raspy voice, deep moans and groans, oh and he’s gonna cuss.

W (Wildcard) random headcanon

Somehow you convinced him to have a quickie after hours at the school (first and likely the last time you guys will do that because,) If it wasn’t enough to see you two appear out of the closet, Aizawa gets a flush after sex and Yamada has yet to let him live it down.

X (X-Ray) what's it looking like under the hood

He’s got good length not massive but above bit above average and it curves just slightly. He’s pretty hairy with the happy trail, little bit of hair on his thighs and legs.

Y (Yearning) what's their sex drive like?

He has a pretty standard sex drive though he initiates less than he could, primarily because he loves when you approach him, even if he’s a little too tired for the task.

Z (Zzz) how fast do they fall asleep after?

He goes to straight to sleep after taking care of your needs. Loves napping with you afterwards—it’s kinda mandatory for him.

[slightly-sigilant]

"P drowns in PELIGIN, the colour of the deepest zee. V marks VIOLANT when blood is shed in a spired place. A wakes APOCYAN, the blue of memory and brightest coral. Behind your mirror, V names VIRIC, the colour of shallow sleep. C lights COSMOGONE, the colour of remembered suns. I is for IRRIGO. No one remembers why. G is lost in GANT, which remains when all other colours are eaten." -- Pages from 'The Neathbow', Sunless Sea

Here they are! All seven fountain pen inks I've picked for the Neathbow.

Peligin: Diamine Tempest (dark, dark, dark blue with lots of gold shimmer and a slight red sheen)

Violant: Diamine Polar Glow (electric blue with an intense red sheen)

Apocyan: Diamine Spearmint Diva (teal with silver shimmer and a slight pink sheen)

Viric: Diamine Neon Lime (lime green with lots of silver shimmer)

Cosmogone: Diamine Citrus Ice (bright orange with lots of silver shimmer)

Irrigo: Diamine Pansy (violet with gold-black sheen)

Gant: Dominant Industry Downpour (warm gray, no sheen, no shimmer)

Of all these inks, Downpour is my favorite. It might look like a nothing ink next to all the sheeners and shimmerers, but it has lovely shading and is easy on the eyes. I use it every day for doodling.

Keep in mind that as per Failbetter's own words, the Neathbow is actually quite variable in how it appears, given that its colors are a) unreal, and b) colors. This selection is just my personal interpretation (with a few grabbed from Bruno's unofficial list), and it is not any more "correct" than others. Feel free to assemble your own tasting flight of Neathbow inks if you have the means.

All drawings were done with a Duke 209 (fude nib). Good god, I never want to change out so much ink ever again.

[fudgebuggyy]

H E L L I C O N I A S P R I N G

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bob x Thunderbolts!Yelena

Tags: Post-Canon, Thunderbolts Team Members Live in the Watchtower, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Thunderbolts SPOILERS contained!, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Addiction

Word count: 3.186k

Chapters: 1/4

Next Chapter

Summary: Three months have passed since the Void descended upon New York, and Yelena is getting used to the life her sister led--dealing with PR agents and working in a team she's only recently learned to tolerate.

And then there's the Bob thing. And the Bob thing is super fucking complicated.

Robert Reynolds wasn’t Sentry.

Robert Reynolds wasn’t the Void.

Three months after New York had been swallowed by a nightmarish blanket of psychological agony, Robert Reynolds was, once again, just Bob. And Just Bob liked boring French New Wave movies and Depeche Mode and pictures of baby Highland cows. He had a scar on his left knee from where he blew it out as a teenager, drunk on a bike in the suburbs. How about you? How many bones have you broken? (Possibly every single one and possibly twice, Yelena had told him; an answer that always seemed to thrill him in some freakish way, that boyish giddiness that overcame grown men showing off their scars).

Bob hated when people chewed with their mouths open. He was a surprisingly good cook and a surprisingly good singer (the latter she had only found out after catching him sneaking a smoke on the Watchtower’s helipad, quietly singing Al Green). He liked stacking french fries inside his burgers in neat rows like a Jenga Tower. He’d been a Buddhist for three years. He made a mean Lasagna alla Bolognese. He liked Jane Kenyon, Allen Ginsberg—from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine. He played the guitar (kind of). He knew how to jumpstart a car (pretty well, actually). He liked chess.

He had a tiny sun tattooed in the dip below his right ankle, a corny memento he'd gotten in Thailand, in a place that doubled as a shoe repair shop, by a half-blind woman who didn’t seem to mind that some white boy was tripping his balls on shrooms he’d stolen from loaded tourists at the Full Moon Party, their tote bags left unattended on a lounger.

Bob had spent most of his life high, bridging the sober gaps with odd jobs and side hustles and jail. He’d stolen from everyone who’d cared about him enough to let him into their lives. Even from his mother: monogrammed silver cufflinks that had belonged to his grandfather, a decorated war vet who'd had a habit of blaming all his problems on immigrants and women.

Yelena collected Bob’s little revelations inside herself. She’d pluck them from him like a magpie lining her nest. Where'd you go to school? Tell me again about those limestone cathedrals on Railay Beach, the rainforest in Taman Negara. What was your brother's name? Did you really run track? You must've been very slow. 

For someone who claimed to be “average white trash”, Robert Reynolds had lived a strangely extraordinary life. Civilian, yes. But extraordinary.

Lately Yelena had been catching herself watching him more than usual—Bob, in his hoodies and scuffed sneakers, tousled hair and boyish slouch, the secret packet of American Spirits peeking out of his back pocket—standing there being all strange and extraordinary. He was always around, puttering in the background like a housecat and only emerging fully to greet the team whenever they piled in from the helipad, busied by another one of their stupid arguments only made more stupid by the fact that they all lived in the same building now. She didn't remember when she'd started looking forward to it, to him. His small smile whenever he caught her looking. 

Hesitant, bashful.

Bob had the kind of face you could excavate things from, his thoughts so thick they were tangible. Yelena imagined sometimes, plucking the viscous globs of shame from it whenever he assumed he’d said something wrong; the sadness when he thought no one could see; the unmistakable mounds of happiness that bunched around his cheeks, blooming splotchy-red and delightful, crinkled at his eyes, whenever she made him laugh.

She liked making him laugh. That throaty lilting hiccup. He had a kind laugh. He had a kind face. Yelena didn’t remember the last time she’d met someone genuinely kind, someone who liked boring French New Wave movies and Depeche Mode and pictures of baby Highland cows.

Someone who could slam her into the ceiling with a swoop of his hand, and then tear the Winter Soldier’s vibranium arm right out of its socket. 

Robert Reynolds wasn’t Sentry, he wasn’t the Void—but he had been. He would be again.

It was a thought that hummed inside of her like the whistle before a bomb hit.

✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢

They stuck him in a cell for a month.

A safety precaution, Valentina had called it, ensuring Bob didn’t…change again. And he didn’t at first: no floating, no super-strength, no telekinesis or freaky eyes. For a month, they watched and they waited, while they underwent the grueling process of heroification. It turned out Valentina had a knack for cleaning up. She was the magician; they were the feral rabbits in her very skinny, very expensive silk top hat.

Life was a barrage of press conferences and image consultations and government endorsements and merchandising and PR agents pondering on what uniform trousers gave Yelena the most “appropriate” amount of ass. Everything was to be practical but presentable, assertive but inoffensive.

Walker knew the drill, Bucky tolerated it, Alexei flourished under the attention like he was running for prime minister of a very tiny Eastern European country, mustache and bravado and all. Yelena was glad to have Ava around, who’d spent a large chunk of her life in a box and who’d called Valentina’s PR agents incompetent parasitic dildos after they asked if she wanted a uniform with cleavage when they shot for their Wheaties commercial.

By the time Bob was trusted enough to wander around the Watchtower freely—having regained barely enough telekinesis to lift a fork—each sleeve of the team’s new uniforms donned a red A. (And their asses were all deemed appropriate.)

To call themselves a team still felt like a gross exaggeration. Their togetherness was built on shaky forbearance and the mutual agreement to neither murder each other in their sleep, nor the conveniently placed news anchors stationed at street corners during assignments in the city.

Because there was another rule to add to the plethora of rules that secured their existence as the New Avengers: fight like heroes.

And fighting like a hero meant fighting clean, and if you didn’t fight clean enough, someone would be sent to clean up after you. No more sloppily tossed nail bombs, no more torture, no more nailing bad guys to the wall by their junk (much to Yelena’s dismay). Murder was a big no-no. Death was to be doled out only when explicitly necessary, and there were only so many excuses Yelena could come up with during debrief to try and explain away her mounting tower of corpses, according to Valentina, who loved hyperbole as much as she loved making Yelena's life a living nightmare now that annoyance was the only way she could make the team pay for the cataclysmic inconvenience they've caused her since not dying in a desert warehouse.  

They had to think about optics now, that and public likability. Apparently the public was picky about who they wanted to be saved by.

The world could see them now, see them fully, from all angles, up close, even when they least expected it or wanted it to. 

Was this what it had been like for Natasha?

Natasha, the performer. Sleek and graceful and unknowable, even to those who loved her most.

There was something to be said about the weight of living up to someone else's potential.

Sometimes Yelena swore she felt her here, this tower like a cruel echo chamber with its zig-zag of steel beams and vibranium-enhanced windows designed to withstand the impact of missiles. How it fortified them from Manhattan’s spiky skyline, from the streets below, teeming with cars and people like blood cells, going places, being alive, pacified by the thought that there was a group of chosen heroes watching over them like gods. 

Would things change if they discovered those heroes were nothing but a pack of reformed, rebranded ex-criminals?

Did Natasha have trouble sleeping too? Had she felt the unfathomable weight of responsibility flattening her until she couldn't fucking breathe? Had she snuck to the kitchen at night, sat on the island, and destroyed a whole tub of ice cream, wondering when life would finally slow down? 

“The infamous ice cream thief,” a voice said behind her.

Yelena had heard Bob long before he’d stepped into the kitchen, his steady gait that dragged just a little. She thought maybe it was a habit, a remnant of a different time, of rubber strings and spoons over flames. She wondered about when he would be strong enough to fly again. She didn’t like wondering about that.

Not bothering to look up, Yelena scraped as much ice cream as she could, lifting the tub to her mouth to shovel the rest of it down before she’d be forced to share.

“You know, you could've just asked.” Bob said.

“True. But that would eliminate the thrill of stealing,” Yelena mumbled, mouth full.

Valentina had them on a strict “hero diet” as well, meaning all the snacks came from Bob, who had a knack for befriending possibly anyone, and who’d managed to get one of Valentina's assistants to help him stock up on the most god-awful American junk they could smuggle through the door. Alexei had started calling Bob their calorie dealer.

Rounding the island, Bob leaned against the counter opposite from her, backlit by the oily bulbs of the range hood. He was in a T-shirt and sweats, barefoot. His hair had been freshly cut. 

Was Valentina getting him ready for the cameras? Already?

Yelena stared at the way his hair swirled gently along his brow, his cheek, soft downy brown. He looked like a long nap, the kind that left you foggy afterwards. 

“Good. You didn’t go blonde again. Supremely silly by the way,” Yelena said, earning her a snort and an awkward shuffling of feet.

“No, yeah. I looked like a dollar store Fabio Lanzoni.”

“Who?”

“Oh, he was on, like, books. Book covers. You know, like, romance books—Bodice rippers? Gentle Rogue?”

“Gentle Rogue?” Yelena laughed, trying to imagine Bob on the cover of a romance book. “Very 80’s porno.”

“They were way worse. My aunt had a whole collection. Pretty sure it’s the only reason I learned how to read.” He shook his head. “So, uh—is this an eating alone in the kitchen type situation or do you want company?”

She swallowed, felt stupid for feeling…shy? Was she feeling fucking shy? Around Robert of all people? 

“Well,” Yelena said, “seeing I’ve finished the Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Chunk, I’d maybe let you stay if you shared something from your commissary.”

“Oh, it’s sharing now?”

“I’m willing to trade.” She tapped the spoon on the kitchen island, thinking. Then, “I’ll teach you how to use those nunchucks.”

Bob blinked.

“Come on, I saw you take them from the training deck. You’re very bad at stealing.”

"Okay, I didn’t steal them, I��borrowed—”

“What do you do? Do you just whip them around in your room?” Yelena leaned forward, voice low. “Do you watch Youtube tutorials, Bob?”

“What do you want?”

“Cheetos.” She grinned, quite pleased with herself.

He looked at the empty tub of ice cream, snorted again, then stepped closer. A move so fast she wondered if any of them really knew how much of his powers had actually returned. Looming between her parted legs, blotting out the light. An arcane panic swelled within her so quickly she grappled to push it down—until she didn't have to anymore. And she breathed in, and she breathed out, and he smelled like a fresh shower, like deodorant. Lemongrass? The heat of him like this. Fuck. Sometimes, just sometimes she thought of what that heat would feel like if she slipped her finger past the hem of his sweaters, flattened her hand against his naked stomach, the soft trail of fuzz below—

Bob blinked, his eyelids twitching the way they did whenever he got nervous, which was always, always, and he was so fucking sweet when he was nervous. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze before clumsily crouching down between her legs, letting her heart slam up her throat before she had time to realize he was just rummaging through the cupboard below her, shoving pots and pans aside to get to his stash.

“Just need to—” His shoulder bumped her ankle. “Sorry.”

When he emerged with the requested bag of Cheetos, he shot her a dopey smile, shaking it in the air. “Deal?”

She slid down the kitchen island, making a show of landing fluidly on her feet. The drop in height made her flounder a little. Tilting her head up, she snatched the bag too fast for him to register, fingers grazing his, and she had to clear her throat before she spoke: “Deal.”

✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢

“So what was it this time?” Bob asked.

They were sitting on the floor of the freshly renovated lounge, by the windows separating them from the nasty cold of a New York winter.

Everything still smelled new and leathery beneath the loom of the giant light fixture that hung like a planet in the dark. It was a space meant for important people, doing important things. She found solace in the fact that Bob seemed to feel just as uncomfortable being in it as she did, when the lights were on and another party was thrown, and servers whizzed around with trays of tiny food she’d scarf down in two bites and skinny flutes of champagne she couldn’t drink.

It was surprisingly peaceful when it was empty. Yelena liked the tower at night. Liminal. An eerie kind of nostalgia she couldn’t quite place.

After tossing a Cheeto in the air and catching it in her mouth, she turned towards Bob, chewing. “Hm?”

“What kept you up this time?” he repeated.

“Just, you know,” she shrugged, “imposter syndrome…and the burden of mortal stewardship…and, like, the fear of insufficiency…and also the weight of the responsibility of keeping a whole country safe from the intergalactic threat of literally anything. You know. The usual.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s, that’s pretty…weighty.” Bob nodded.

She didn’t want to tell him that it was Natasha who kept her tossing and turning most nights. But her sister was a ghost she couldn’t face completely, and especially not with him.

Clearing her throat, she pointed a Cheeto at him, aiming. She tossed it. He missed tremendously. “You?” she asked.

“Uh—” Bob shrugged, picking up the Cheeto from the floor, looking at it for a moment. “I just really fucking miss being high.”

Yelena laughed like a gunshot, tipping her head back with the force of it. She liked when he was honest. She liked when he said fuck. She was like a child endlessly thrilled by others' deviousness. And Bob, surprisingly, had been quite devious.

“Trying to ride it out.” He shrugged. “Distraction helps.”

“Okay,” Yelena coughed, nodded, lifting another Cheeto and tossing it at his mouth. He caught it this time, chewing on it triumphantly. “Let’s distract you then. Tell me more about your voyages.”

“Voyages?” Now Bob laughed. He always laughed when Yelena said it like that. Do you mean my meth-fueled meandering?

He didn’t see them as voyages or adventures. But they were to Yelena. Bob, the unlikely wayfarer of a psychedelic trek across the globe, with nothing but a donkey-eared passport in his pocket. He had a very peculiar talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow not dying. 

“What about yours?” he countered.

“Mine? Mine are just—mission go. Shoot, shoot, shoot. Knee to the face. Bomb. Mission complete.” She pantomimed someone choking to death. “At least yours are super weird.”

“Oh, good to know. Thought you enjoyed them for the ethical quandary.”

“Tell me about Phnom Pen. You didn’t finish last time.”

He snorted. She liked his snorts. “You mean the chicken race?”

“Yeah, of course I mean the chicken race, Bob. It’s a chicken race. You think I’d forget about the chicken race?" She lifted her brows. "Super weird!"

Yelena knew Bob thought of his time before the Sentry Project as pretty miserable, but his stories weren’t all bad, speckled with moments where he hadn’t been so high he couldn’t remember, small audacious moments that had taken him by surprise. As if even now, he had trouble accepting that life hadn't always been out to punish him. 

He’d told her of the places and the people he’d met, people like him, people not like him at all, people from all over. He'd told her the longest time he’d ever been sober was in Cambodia, riding out the bouts of withdrawal on an air-mattress in a garage, taken in by a farmer’s son who’d found him face-down in the rice paddies, half-coherent after a two-week stint in Battambang. I stayed in town for a while. Won some cash gambling and I bought them a new fridge. Learned how to make the best red curry you'll ever eat in your life. 

“Come on, tell me about the racing chickens,” Yelena said, her head slumped against the window. She blinked expectantly. And so Bob told her about the chicken race, and he told her about what happened after the chicken race, and what happened after that and then after that, until he couldn’t remember. Or didn’t want to.

They were quiet for a while, staring out the window, the sheet of lights that seemed to spill out forever. 

"What if we’d met back then?” Yelena said, a little woozy from sleepiness. She felt younger like this. She didn't remember the last time she'd felt like this around someone.  

“You wouldn’t have wanted that. Trust me,” he said.

“I do,” she said. Trust you. Is that a bad thing?

“Still.” Her leg slid towards him. “I think I would’ve liked to have known you sooner.”

It wasn’t true, not completely.

She meant another version of her meeting another version of him in another version of life, where all they worried about was what hostel to stay at next, how to scrounge up enough money for a flight back home, where they met at a dive bar on a beach or a hiking trail to some ancient monastery where all the white backpackers went to feel better about the choices they’d made. 

But in this version of life, this version of her pressed her socked foot against this version of him. And he wasn’t Sentry, and he wasn’t the Void, not right now and not for this. He was warm, and the city lights painted him in faint, vaporous lines, and his chest was broad when he wasn’t slouching, his hands big and sure and smooth, a little clammy at times but she didn’t mind. I don’t mind. And his face, his open face so full of things.

This time, it wasn’t a thought she spotted there; it was a feeling so unmistakable, trembling from its own heat:

Yearning

✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢  ✢

Yelena Belova was Russian after all.

Here was a feeling she knew like no other.

[gothgleek]

Your Boyfriend’s Mom! Alicent x f!Reader- NSFW Alphabet

You’re dating Aegon but when he’s being an ass, you’re fucking his mom.

TW: modern au with sexual situations and a little bit of dark!Alicent that includes brief mentions of non consensual nudes.

Border by @saradika-graphics

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Alicent is often wracked with guilt about sleeping with her son’s girlfriend until you roll over and cuddle her. Then she melts into your arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She loves her hair and takes multiple steps to ensure it stays thick and healthy. Alicent also likes her neck because of the way you kiss her there.

She loves your tits- I mean, smile. Just one look and her day is immediately better.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Alicent is a squirter, pass it on.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Those blurry pics she posts on her instagram story? Yeah she’s not bad with technology, she’s posting pics have been while you were eating her out.

Also, in a bit of Dark!Alicent- she has the nudes you sent to Aegon downloaded on her phone.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Outside of her husband, she has read a lot of vintage smut books but those pale in comparison to what the two of you get into.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

She likes to ride. Alicent likes when you’re in control but if you give her just a little power, she’ll have you seeing stars in no time.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Before she’s giggling at all your jokes, during she’s desperate, after she’s got that guilt setting in. And so the cycle continues.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bush! Bush! Bush!

She used to wax because that is what her husband preferred but now she’s letting it grow free with the occasional trim now and then.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Alicent wants to be romantic but she knows you’re not the person she can do that with. You’ll both say sweet nothings to each other but that’s as far as the romance really goes. Sometimes she’ll fantasize about romantic and loving sex while she masturbates.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You took her to the store to buy Alicent’s first vibrator and she uses it almost every night. She sends you pictures as well.

Sometimes when you visit Aegon, she will masturbate in the hopes you catch her.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

She is working up the nerve to invite you to a long weekend that will involve roleplaying as her favorite characters. Perhaps even having you hunt her down in the woods and taking her amongst the trees. She’s also into the idea of filming you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

She’ll tell you it’s in her car by the lake outside of town but it’s really in Aegon’s bed. Something about the guilt makes it feel super sexy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

She lets you hit it because you make her laugh.

Also, pictures of yourself in green lingerie and pearls. She likes you in all lingerie but green has a special place in her heart.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She’s not into hair pulling or extreme bdsm. She still considers herself vanilla. Also, she won’t have sex in places that are too public because she doesn’t want the other PTA moms talking about her.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She’s such a pillow princess, she’s never going down on you… unless you ask nicely. But even then, she’s doing it so you can eat her out.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Most of your encounters are quickies so fast and rough is the name of the game. Occasionally, she’ll ask you to be a little romantic but even then it’s gonna be fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Most of the time you two are having a quickie in the car, in the bathroom, or on Aegon’s bed. The two of you rarely have time to slow down.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Alicent isn’t a huge risk taker. Sure she’s fucking her son’s boyfriend, often in public, but those are in controlled environments like abandoned parking lots, empty parks, and her pool. She doesn’t have any interest in bdsm.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

She can cum 3-4 times with you in relatively quick succession. She had reached a number of ten orgasms in one day, just through the course of the day rather than all at once.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You bought her her first vibrator and butt plug. Then she bought herself some nipples clamps to surprise you when you got home. Those are her only toys (so far).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If she’s feeling frisky, Alicent will tease you in public- running her hands over you, placing her hand on your thigh, and whispering sweet nothings. By the time you two end your in bed though, she wastes no time.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Despite being a secret, she is so incredibly loud- this is the first time she’s ever received pleasure and passion. Alicent will shout your name, beg, moan, and on a few occasions, knocked over loud objects so she can get fucked. You’re genuinely surprised no one has caught the two of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Alicent went to the Sept to beg for forgiveness after sleeping with you for the first time. Then she went to the parking lot and had sex with you again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Her breasts grew to an even C cup after having kids, she also has some softness in her arms and belly.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It comes in cycles. Ovulation horny has taken her to places she would rather forget about afterwards.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

She’s out like a light. But the slightest noise will wake her up so she’s caught you sneaking out to go back to Aegon’s room.

[fanaticsnail]

Marking: Lucci

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 1,300+

Themes: Rob Lucci x afab!reader, biting, licking, possessive Lucci, half-shifting, feral Lucci, jealous Lucci, porn without plot, monster Lucci, mdni, NSFW, smut, 18+, public sex, outdoor sex, oral, breeding mentioned, pregnancy mentioned, knotting mentioned, nickname "kitten".

Notes: Another day, another fic to celebrate my 30 to 30! I hope you enjoy this one!

Back splayed against the forest floor, legs pushed back and knees at your shoulders, dark curls brushed with your ass while lips descended on your pussy. Clothes lay shredded and scattered to the side of you as you were pinned beneath the hulking fixture of Rob Lucci devouring your cunt and seeking out your ecstasy with his lips.

“Going to make you regret looking at him, kitten,” Lucci’s muffled growl vibrated through your core and shattered your soul in the cusps of oblivion's rapid approach. “You're mine. Only mine.” Mouthing and sucking at your clit, your legs began to shake and flutter in time with your impending orgasm.

His porus tongue lulled out, Lucci’s shoulders stretching and creaking under the expansion of his Zoan form overtaking his flesh. Now coarser, his tongue lapped with each cruel swipe slobbering messily against your drooling cunt.

“Lucci-!” you called out for him as you tried to reach through your legs to both pull his head closer and push it away from your pussy. “Too much-!”

“-Not enough!” he roared in response, silencing your plea for mercy and continuing to harshly beckon you closer to your edge. “Cum on my face. Can feel your pussy call for me. Cum for me, now.”

“Lucci-! C-Cumming!” you screamed, feeling the gush from your pussy splash from your entrance and stick to his lips and whiskered chin. Several wings of fluttering birds fled at the volume of your cry, your vision splitting while and ears ringing with a silence while warmth shot through your body.

He continued consuming your release, bobbing, weaving, licking and sucking whatever took his fancy. With the added stimuli of his extended canines in his half-shifted form, your eyes lulled back and your lips poured babbles where all cohesion fled from you.

With his hands now shifted into claws, he rose his bestial fact from your cunt and glared down at you with those foreign eyes he had come to haunt you with. Green and red reflected off his pupils, both of which mattered not with how blown they were against his natural hue.

“Still thinking about him?” he growled, rising to his knees and lining his red, angry cock against your slit. “About that man who was undressing you with his eyes?” He eased the first inch of his otherworldly cock within your pussy, causing your lips to muffle out a choked pleading whimper in response, “Only I get to see you like this.”

“Lucci. Plea-!” You couldn't finish the sentence, feeling his hips surge forward as he drew his body flush with your own in a single thrust. Your pussy sucked him in, protesting at the large stretch with that sting that tugged at each corner.

“Mine,” he roared, beginning a brutal pace of bodies merging as one, “All of you, mine.”

The crude echoes of your wet heat sucking in his bulbous cock echoed throughout the surrounds, your cries choked by his hands forcing your legs back further and making the angle all the deeper. Tears began to prick at your eyes, causing that same tongue that drew pleasure from your core up to your cheeks and swiped at your skin.

“What do I have to do to have you see that?” he emphasized every word with a hard thrust to your pussy, “Give you my mark? Brand my name on your skin by means of my teeth?”

You squeaked at the feeling of his extended canines beginning to kiss at your throat, quickly replaced by his lips sucking harshly against your pulse. His tapered tip bruised and kissed the top of your cervix with every in-thrust, scraping against your g-spot with expert precision.

“You're my mate, kitten,” he growled, chasing a trail by means of his lips down your throat and towards your shoulders. Each time his lips made contact, the pressure of his lips drawing your blood to the surface of your skin married with the brutal pace he set bucking into you. “Going to show the world that you're mine.”

Lucci snapped, pushing your legs further back while his lips, tongue and teeth relentlessly sucked and bit at every inch of your skin. Extended teeth grazing and nicking your skin, the thrill of danger being involved with each kiss. Nipping harshly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to bruise your flesh, Lucci’s rumbled purr roared from the center of his throat and caused your pussy to apprehensively flutter while you shrieked.

Lapping and lulling at your marks, Lucci’s eyes became more feral as they met the vision he marred into your skin. Mirroring the pattern of his Zoan form in bites and welts, your skin was abused by his lust.

“Gonna fill you up and push my knot in your pussy,” he growled, causing your shock to blow your eyes wide. “I'm gonna put it in, kitten.” His thrusts grew manic, slapping your ass with his balls with every crazed thrust.

“You were made for me, you understand?” he reassured you, holding your eyes with his own and forcing you to take in his every word. As he began to force the more primal urge of himself back, you moaned his name in a high mewl. His eyes rolled back as he whispered, “Fuck, I can feel your cunt sucking me in. You want me like this, don't you?"

“Yes,” you whimpered, drawing your blunt fingernails over his scarred back and tugging him closer to you. “I want you like this. I want to be yours. I want it all.”

He circled his hands over your back, squeezing your thighs into his chest with his stomach baring the brunt of his weight against you. Holding the majority of his shaft deep within you, the bulbous knot was flush with your pussy. As he began to force it in, he growled down at you.

“Bite me,” he ordered firmly, “Be mine. Bite me back. Mark me as yours, and be mine.”

As you obediently bit down on his chest, an ovular, heart-shaped mark against his furred skin, he roared as he finally pushed his knot all the way inside you. You screamed out as you felt him hit a point deep within your belly and force an orgasm out of you.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he fucked you without taking the knot from your pussy and rocking with intentional, heavy thrusts. “That's it. Milk my cock. Going to fill you full of my young. Perfect mate for my cubs.”

“Lucci-!” Your muffled, muted, and strangled cry forced Lucci’s release to finally reach its precipice, your belly flooded immediately with his cum as he barked your name.

“Hghmn-! Fuck, I'm cumming!” The deep rattle in his throat reverberating in his chest. "Yes, fucking take it.”

His hips stilled, his Zoan form still panting with deep huffs above you while you throbbed and contracted around his shaft. Looking down at you, he moved your hips to a more comfortable position straddling his waist while he lapped gently at your flesh.

“That's my mate. My perfect mate.”

Your hands were still as talons, clutching him to you like he was the only tether anchoring you to this world. Your breaths matched, sharing the heavy relief that came with the lust finally dissipating. His licks turned to kisses, his dark curls falling over your face while his jowls pushed back to give you more humanoid affection.

“Still thinking of him?” Lucci asked suddenly, his whisper seeming unsure and awaiting your reaction. You simply giggled, unclasping his skin from your grip and doeing your eyes innocently up at him.

“Lucci, my love. There is no-one else. Just you,” you reassured him while gently caressing his bestial cheeks within your palms, “That man was just asking for directions to home base. A new recruit that recognised our uniforms and needed a little help.”

“You are thinking of him, then,” he purred down at you. His tone was filled with jest, but his eyes once more filled with that feral lust you had only just stifled, “Looks like I'm going to have to do this all again until it's only thoughts of me filling that pussy full of my cubs, kitten.”

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🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

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