#ignore anything fucked up instead focus on the good parts

[burning-sol]

wow!!!!

[freedomfireflies]

SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught. 

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

 And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed. 

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?” 

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

 The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you. 

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame. 

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals. 

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance. 

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck. 

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice? 

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force. 

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh. 

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you. 

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at. 

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning. 

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit. 

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before. 

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow. 

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

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~ Off the Shelf*

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[fiapartridge]

♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.

warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333

author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!

read part one here !!

YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call. 

Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.

The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.

“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it. 

“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true. 

Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”

“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”

Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”

Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”

“What did you want to say?”

Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention. 

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.

After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home. 

It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.

Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second. 

Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.

“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper. 

You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you? 

Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.” 

Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.

Just be honest, his mind screamed.

“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”

“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”

“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before. 

Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”

“So why-”

“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”

You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you. 

You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”

Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.

As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.

Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?” 

He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”

You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”

Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him. 

"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.

"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.

"Something like that."

[perrywrites]

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during his practice;

NSFW 

Includes; Isagi, Hiori, Bachira

Part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Isagi: it’s time for his break during practice, and he’s gulping down water, adam’s apple bobbing as he hydrates himself. He’s loosely aware of your dazed stare as you continue looking at him from the bench, after all you haven’t been very subtle in staring at him throughout practice - and although he could ignore it on field, not so much off of it. He’s still gulping down water, about to go towards you afterwards just for a quick chat, and to ask you why you’ve been staring at him so much, unusually quietly. Then you say something that makes him freeze up, setting fire to his face and nearly killing him in the process. “I want you inside of me…” you mumble that, sighing in a manner as if he had romanced you. The surprise proves near fatal, and he’s choking on his water, turning away from you as his ears burn up fiercely. What? What? Did you actually just say that? Or has he somehow actually gone crazy now? Some sort of brain fatigue? An answer to his unasked question comes in the form of your lighthearted giggle, as you apologize casually for letting your thoughts slip out. That doesn’t do anything to calm the fire heating up his skin, heart thundering throughout his body, especially not when your eyes are still just as dazed when you look up at him, all lovesick and opaque with longing. “You can’t just say that,” he says, voice quiet and strained, face still heavily flushed. You giggle, and tease him a bit more, before he goes back to practice. Except now he can’t focus on anything anymore. All he can think about are your sweet words, that lovesick gaze of yours, and the softness of your plush walls. His mind is failing, and you’ve proven to be a magnificent distraction. The only thing on his mind right now is how badly he wants to sink into you and fuck you hard for even daring to say that outloud. He wants to pin you down and have his way with you, make you so dumb on his cock, fill you up - and oh god. He’s clenching his hands, flexing any muscles in his body that he can, trying to divert the blood away from his cock, because his shorts were starting to feel a little too tight. Fuck, look at what you’ve done. Are you proud of yourself? You’re not going to be getting away with this, you know that, right? Why did you think it was a good idea to tease him like this during practice, make him want you so badly? Was last night not enough? Just wait until the end of practice. He’ll be pouncing on you with a growl, dragging you somewhere private he can pound some fucking sense into you. Don’t bother trying to run away, you know he’ll catch you.

Hiori: he finds himself raising an amused eyebrow as he walks towards you during his break, noting how you’re still looking at him, all dreamy and dazed, gaze thick with longing. He knows more than well enough the meaning of that stare, your expressions always give away far too much, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he asks you lightly if something’s wrong, taking sips of his water. He freezes before he can go in for a third sip, some water spilling out from the top of the bottle at his sudden pause. Did he hear you right? Did you actually just say that? He blinks, looking at you, and his eyes narrow darkly when he catches that spacey fuzzy look on your face. How do you manage to look so innocent and corruptible despite just saying such a perverse thing? He doesn’t understand it, no matter how many times he thinks about it, but what he does know is how that spaced out look on your face never fails to stir sinful desires within him, cock twitching in his pants as his body heats up. On the surface, he looks calm, as always, nothing amiss - but his eyes are clouded over deeply, and his jaw is tense. You love to test his self-restraint, don’t you? For some reason, when you two first started dating, you seemed to have the impression that he doesn’t yearn, doesn’t have a sexual appetite, and it was amusing for him to prove you wrong again and again, take you by surprise - because every time you’d be befuddled by the fact that he wants you, and that he wants you badly. That’s why you’re capable of saying something so inviting so carelessly, right? Even right now, you don’t know a single thing that’s running through his mind, do you? How he wants to watch your eyes turn all dewy, tears pooling as you whimper and sob out his name beneath him, face flushed and lips quivering, an expression only for him on your face, make you vulnerable and helpless underneath as he loves you to death. He wants to do all of those things and more, make you so weak and useless, cherish you and make you take him until you break. But, he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he smiles impassively, walking over to you as he pats your head, but when he speaks, there’s something veiled in his controlled voice. “Don’t worry, ya only have to wait a little longer, okay?”

Bachira: throughout practice he catches your stare, noting your listless gaze as your eyes follow him run and score across the field. He’s not oblivious, though, he can tell well enough the simmering desire sitting heavy and darkly in your seemingly empty and unthinking eyes. “What’s with that look?” he asks, all toothy smirk and teasing eyes as he drinks from his bottle, eager to badger you during his small water break. But it seems like you’re a little too out of it, feeling a little too bold, because you respond bluntly, murmuring quietly that you were thinking about wanting him inside of you. He’s taken aback at your unintentional provocation, blinking away the shock as he smiles, amused. You really will be the death of him, won’t you? He tries lightheartedly teasing you, asking you what made you so impatient that you couldn’t even wait until you two were alone to tell him this, and when you say that neither of you would be able to resist right now if he got you alone, he damn near loses his mind. He can feel the heat spreading through his body, itching to do something to you as you continue looking up at him all dazed and yearning, and he tells you that exactly so, voice all husky. With a smile as normal as ever, except his eyes are glinting in a way that sends fire down your core. A whimper bubbles up your throat. “I want you to do something to me so badly, you have no clue,” you say, whimpery voice bursting out, and you’ve done it. His eyes darken needily, smile faltering, and he quickly ditches his towel and water bottle; practice be damned. Hand on your arm, he pulls you up and begins lightly dragging you somewhere else, somewhere isolated, somewhere he can fuck you and make you cry so hard on his cock you lose your voice. That’s what you get for tempting him. This is what you want, right? He’ll give it all to you, don’t worry. Just be good and submissive for him, spread those legs for him and leave your body all pliant under his hungry touch. He’ll fill you up, and he’ll keep filling you up until you’re satisfied - or rather, until he’s satisfied. Because you’ve lit a fire in him that you absolutely can’t handle - but don’t worry - he’ll hold you and love you even when you become a babbling mess on his cock, so let him break you apart right now. You’re the one that started it this time anyways, so he doesn’t have to hold back, right?

[inklore]

impetuous

premise: the little games you and joel like to play become risky when you almost get caught.

pairing: joel miller x smuggler!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected piv, established enemies with benefits, dirty talk, a certain clothing item being used as a gag, small mention of masturbation and bjs, hints of angst.

note: episode eight changed me as a person, the integration scene rewired my brain chemistry and i just needed to get this out before i collapsed from being in heat. the gif was made by me so don't steal pretty please.

part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!

“Shh, shh,” Joel silences you, just as a hard thrust of his cock has your mouth falling open, a moan filling the air of the damp shed. The crunch of sticks and gravel outside makes your already thumping heart beat faster against your rib cage.

Brows drawn together, the hands gripping onto Joel’s flannel digging into his sides. The thumb that was just pressed to the column of your throat—dirty palm squeezing your airway just enough to lower your moans, enough to make you wetter and less coherent—now moves down to where you’re bare and his cock is fucking into you. The rough pad of his thumb moving along your clit, “focus right here.” 

Ignore the noises outside. 

Ignore the possibility of getting caught by someone out after dark and up to no good. 

Ignore the possibility of getting thrown in a cell by FEDRA because you two were out after dark and up to no good. 

“Fuc-Joel,” you whine. Clench your eyes shut until all you can see is little white dots behind them. Try to focus on those, on the burn you feel from the tears that are now prickling at your lash line from how hard you’re trying to focus. 

From how hard you’re trying to keep your mouth shut, to not getting caught—at least not before you’ve come. 

Joel’s words “focus right here” mocking and blaring in your head like a song you can’t stop humming, a song stuck in your head, a song you want to bodily remove from your brain stem; your focus on the footsteps outside no longer the issue; your attentions shifting to the head of his cock, hitting every spot inside of you that makes your legs tighten around his hips more, on the burning pleasure he’s delivering to your clit right now. 

You couldn’t focus on anything but him if you tried, and you’re trying really hard to focus that attention on staying quiet. 

Which the two of you know is not your forte, in and out of this situation. 

The countless times when Joel’s not fucking you come to the forefront of your mind of him complaining about your need to argue, to talk talk talk, instead of the two of you doing a trade, or making the other come. 

“Anyone ever told you you talk too much?” 

"Well, one of us has to do the talking, Mr. Resting Grump Face. Besides, you’d be bored if I didn’t make you work for what you came for.” 

“That what you call it? Workin’ for it? You mean until I give you what you want because you can’t seem to ask for it unless you’re deliverin’ me bad news,” he had smirked. Wiped the grin from your face and covered it with his mouth seconds later as he backed you into the wall, groin grinding against your front. “I got better uses for that mouth.” 

The scrape of the metal table your ass is on moves each time Joel thrusts, each time his cock drags against your sensitive walls over and over. If it weren’t for his jeans still covering half of him, the sounds of your skin moving against each other—and your wetness that was more than likely staining the front of his jeans, the small window in the back doing little to help light anything but his face and neck—would cover up the mewls and cries making your throat hoarse and raw each time they slip out when you fight to swallow them down. 

“The only way you know how to be quiet is with my cock in your mouth.” There’s humor in his tone; his heavy breaths add more heat to your face. You feel his free hand run along your leg, moving it from his hip for half a second as he pulls your underwear from your calf and over your ankle until it’s in his palm and he’s pushing the material into your mouth. 

You can taste the remnants of your arousal on the cotton, from even before the two of you started your little game. When it was still just a simple trade of stolen items and things your boss was too cowardly to hand off to the big bad grump. When he had just been scowling at you, listening to your bullshit story, and bidding the time until one of you cracked. Before both of you threw the items to the side and Joel’s hands were bending you over the nearest surface or pushing you to your knees. 

You swallow around the material, your whimpers caught by the fabric and barely audible. His lips press against the material, barely touching your lips; the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own as he presses it against yours. “Focus on comin’ for me, take what you came for. C’mon. Come with me,” he grunts. Moves his hips in a way that has your eyes rolling back and your teeth biting the salvia-soaked cotton. 

The hand not rubbing fast circles on your clit, cups the back of your skull. His dirty fingers wrapped in your hair, keeping you in place. Keeping you bent at the perfect angle so your hips can meet his. So his thumb has access to that nerve that’s making your toes curl—to push his cock further and further into you so the tip hits something pleasurably painful. 

When you’re coming, when his name is muffled against your underwear and your nails are clinging and digging into his skin from the searing heat that has your body convulsing against him—"That's it, that's it, take it” murmured against your forehead—you feel him finish seconds later. Your walls clenching and spasming around his cock. A deep grunt breathed against your skin. 

Your insides feel warm, like jell-o left out in the sun. Like if Joel never moved from between your legs and the two of you stayed connected forever, you wouldn’t mind. 

And after he’s pulled out and his warmth is gone from your body, you quickly shoot down the disappointment rising up inside of you that he didn’t stay between your legs longer. That this part of the night is over, and now you’re back to the game. 

To the reason you snuck out after dark to begin with. 

Completely denying yourself any opposing thought that could put that reason into question. The two of you have been doing this for too long for your mind to think it’s something it isn’t. 

Even when he doesn’t just take what he came for and leave or shoot you a scowl when he helps you find your pants, the way you expect him to. 

Or how he doesn’t let you go first no matter how much arguing you do against it—how he makes sure the coast is clear before signaling it’s safe. Him hanging behind to—cover his ass, you’re sure—make sure when you slip down the dark alleyway, no one is there to catch you sneaking away into the night. 

And later, when you’re laying in bed, you’ll chalk up the pounding need you feel again as you remember Joel’s rough fingers against you—your jaw, your neck, digging into your sides, your shoulder to keep you from moving anywhere but against him, anywhere but where he wouldn’t be inside of you—and his words still playing in your head “focus right here, come with me”, your heart will pick up, and you’ll have no choice but to sedate the ache you feel by making yourself come. Joel’s name on your tongue and bit into your bottom lip; you’ll blame it on his stupid mouth and your lack of options for sexual partners in this hell hole. 

It won’t be because of an attachment or attraction of any kind. 

Fuck that. 

And tomorrow, when you tell Robert to do his own fucking deliveries, it won’t be because of your feelings but instead because you almost got caught last night. This little game becoming more of a risk than entertainment for you, and you’ll be damned if you get in the mix with FEDRA over Joel and the underlying need the both of you have to pick each other apart and pull the hatred you harbor inside out with teeth, tongues, and fingers that make you see stars. 

But Robert is spineless, and you’re not convincing enough to make yourself believe you want to end anything with Joel. 

[xveenusx]

Love

Paring(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

Summary: in which two people come to terms with how dangerous their love is, but it's impossible to leave.

Author's note: Rafe on his knees is sending me. This is part two to Hate and is complete angst because I like to hurt my own feelings. ALSO, the GIFS depict exactly what's going to happen in this peice to help you visualize it better :)

Rating: ANGSTY, but kind of a good ending but not really bc they are horrible for each other

Warnings: v toxic relationship

Part 1: Hate

━━ ★ Masterlist

_____________________

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

My head hung against the cool tile in the shower, water pounding against my body as I fought against the urge to succumb to my pain.

You won't ever be over me

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Yet, it didn't work. I couldn't block out his words as they pistoled into my mind again and again. Slapping my hand against the tile, I groaned out loud and rubbed my eyes.

Memories of my mistake continue to stampede over every coherent thought I could form. It was embarrassing how easily I gave into him, but when he touched me, all sense went out the window.

He was the chink in my armor, because when he loved me, I mean really loved me, the sun shined brighter and the world went into focus. He could ask me anything and I would have told him in a heart beat. There was just this sense of security that finally gave me the ability to be myself. I felt like I was safe and solid ground for the first time in my life.

But as time went on, there were small slip ups that caught my attention. The hushed meetings with his father, his eagerness to be around my friends, the constant Q and A about gold.

I pushed passed the alarm bells ringing in my head because I didn’t want it to end. I caught him in lie after lie which always ended in a screaming match. I’d storm away but it always ended in us finding our way back to each other. Always.

Maybe it’s wrong to say this, but I was relieved that he needed me just as bad as I needed him. He couldn’t seem to leave me alone either.

The longer we were together, I couldn’t help but begin to question why he was really with me. The idea of there being an ulterior motive for loving me paralyzed me with fear.

Because, if that was true, I didn't think I'd survive it.

So like a junkie, in every sense of the word, I gave into the drug that was Rafe Cameron and gave him anything he wanted. I became an entirely different person that I didn't recognize.

I was so desperate to be loved by him that it almost killed me.

A familiar burning behind my eyes made me smile in irony. Tears usually accompanied anything that involved Rafe.

I slowly slid down the shower wall, bringing my knees to my chest, and set my chin on top. Closing my eyes, I attempted to focus on the pounding of the water but despite the noise, it couldn’t overpower the noise in my head.

Detoxing was nearly impossible. I'd take another dose, and then another, but when the high eventually wore of—because it always did—this is what was left:

A shell of me withered down in self loathing.

I hate you.

No, you don't.

The water eventually turned cold but I refused to move from my spot on the floor. I just couldn't face him, not yet.

It hurt to fucking look at him.

A fist pounded on the bathroom door but I chose to ignore it. I shivered slightly at the ice cold water but preferred this biting pain over what awaited me on the other side of that door.

"Open the door."

I turned my head away from the door and instead rested my cheek on the top of my knee and stared at the wall.

"I'm not fucking kidding. Open the door, why is this shit locked anyway?"

I rolled my eyes. The dramatics were unmatched.

"Go away." I croaked out, hoping for once in his god damn life that he listened. "I swear to god."

"I'm shaking in my boots, babe."

Jesus Christ.

"Rafe-"

"I can hear you crying from out here."

That shut me up. I thought I was being discreet. "I'm fine. Please go away."

He pounded on the door again. "Do you really think a locked door is gonna stop me?."

My eyes closed briefly at his words. The organ in my chest that refused to listen to reason began to beat a little harder.

"Rafe, please. I need a minute." My voice cracked at the end of my plea.

It was quiet for a few moments before I heard his feet shuffle away. I relaxed in relief at his departure and lifted my head directly under the water, hoping it will clear my mind.

"Fuck this." Was all I heard before a sharp crack echoed and the door busted open.

My gaze found his and it took all my strength to not shrink under his gaze. I'm sure I was a sight for sore eyes, curled up on the floor of the shower shivering.

Rafe let out a distressed noise before moving towards me but I scooted back, throwing my palm up. “Stop.”

He stopped in his tracks with narrowed eyes. “You have about five seconds.”

“Boundaries. We need boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” He repeated slowly, making it seem like the term was foreign to him. “What the fuck for?”

“Because I need a moment. Let me cry in peace.”

Rafe nodded his head and relief let me drop my shoulders.

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone when you cry, there, that’s my boundary.”

I open my mouth and close it. He couldn’t be serious?

He shut off the water while letting out a string of curses as he took in my shivering figure. Yanking a towel off the rack, I'm suddenly enveloped in warmth as he wrapped the towel around my body and picked me up.

His scent lured me in like an old friend. Exhaustion weighed on me heavily so I gave in yet again.

I shoved my face into his neck enjoying the warmth his body provided and the shivering slowly subsided. Rafe said nothing as he set me on the edge of the bed and softly began to dry me.

He was gentle despite the severe expression he wore.

“We should probably talk.” He uttered, running the towel along my legs.

I shook my head, the desire to sleep was overwhelming.

Rafe paused. “I can already feel you pulling back from me.”

He knew me all too well.

Arguing him was pointless. We’d both end up with our voices gone and nothing solved.

“I can’t do this with you right now. I just want this day to be over.” I spoke quietly, fiddling with my fingers.

Rafe doesn’t answer me, instead he grabs some satin set and slowly started to dress me. Lifting my arms, he pulled the thin tank over my head before kneeling down and doing the same with the bottoms.

It was moments like this that almost made me cave. Rafe Cameron, of figure eight, heir to a real estate empire, was down on his knees for a Pogue.

Pressing a gentle kiss to my inner knee, he stood up, towering over me with his hand cupping my face. His face was the picture of relaxed despite our current kidnapping, but I knew it was solely because we were together.

“This can’t happen again.” The words were out of my mouth in seconds.

He just smiled, humming softly to himself as he continued to stare.

So I tried again. “You can sleep on the floor.”

That made the smile drop fast.

“You want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Yes.”

“Like the actual floor?” Rafe asked slowly, his gaze moving down to the hard wooden floor in distaste.

“The fucking floor, Rafe.”

His eyes narrowed at my tone, “Why?”

“Because I said so.” Because, my panties will be off in seconds.

“Try again. I’ll argue with you all night until you tell me why.”

“Does this not hurt you as much as it hurts me? Looking at you fucking kills me.”

“I’m going to marry you. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow. But I will marry you," He said the words so nonchalantly, you would think he was discussing the weather, "So no, it doesn’t hurt me to look at you, to be around you, because I know this is never going to end. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you."

I waited, for what seemed like forever, to hear him say these words. Yet, now that he did, I simply didn't believe it. Too much has happened. His words no longer held the weight that they used to and for a brief moment I felt a twisted sense of relief because that meant I was one step closer to being free of the shackles that chained me to him.

My brows furrowed as I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out.

I shook my head and crawled towards the front of the bed, tugging the sheets down and burrowing myself into a cocoon. "Go to sleep, Rafe."

He muttered something under his breath as he walked over to the makeshift bed on the floor. I heared some shuffling before a heavy sigh echoed in our room and I knew he finally settled.

It was for the best. My sanity needed to remain intact and this was the only way. That didn't stop me from missing the warm embrace of his body that always lulled me to sleep.

Rolling onto my side, I peaked over the side of the bed and saw his head already turned in my direction. A faint smirk tugged at the coner of his lips and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"You still want me on the floor?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes." No.

Rafe let out a chuckle before silence enveloped us and the only thing I could hear was the sound of our steady breathing. All trace of humor left his face and we stared at each other, his eyes never leaving mine. It almost appeared like he was commiting my face to memory.

"You're safe. You can go to sleep," Rafe murmured, "I won't let anything happen to you."

A familar rush of affection slammed into my chest and I forced myself to break eye contact first. I couldn't let him see the expression that adorned my face. He was embedded deeply into my soul.

"I-" I love you.

Rafe cut me off, "I know."

Curled on my side with the sheets pulled up to my neck, I closed my eyes and whispered painfully, "I wish I didn't."

I could feel his gaze burning holes into my back, but I knew better than to turn around. Sleep, I told myself, everything will be better tomorrow.

Minutes passed and I knew he wasn't going to answer.

"I know that too." Was all I heard before I embraced the darkness with open arms.

_______________

Disoriented.

That's how I woke up. My eyes felt heavy and my head drummed against my skull. This pain comparable to only being severely hungover. Yet, I barley had anything at all. It was simply the Rafe effect, also known as extreme emotional distress.

I rubbed the sleepiness from eyes while my mind betrayed me with replays of the last 24 hours. Peering over the edge of the bed, Rafe is sprawled out awkwardly on the ground sleeping. His bare chest slowly rising up and down, his necklace gleaming from the morning light that seeped into the room.

It hurt to look at him, but when I looked away, it hurt even more. The fear of forgetting what he looked like or how he sounded when he laughed consumed me. What if everything faded?

Love and hate were more similar than one would think.

As if sensing I was was awake, Rafe shifted onto his side and opened his eyes slowly. I watched as his eyes took in our surroundings before last 24 hours finally hit him.

Instantly, his eyes find mine and his body relaxes, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

He got up from his spot on the floor and made his way over to me. Sleepiness still present in his eyes, but his face was content. The bed dips and a warm hand pushed my hair out of my eyes before tracing my nose then the outline of my lips.

"Good morning." The low raspy timber of his voice had me clenching my thighs together.

I allowed myself these few seconds to bask under the glow of his attention. Swallowing down the lump in my throat at what I'm about to do, I steel the storm of emotions that brew inside me.

Moving my face out of his grasp, I shifted my body into a sitting positon, placing a slight distance between us. "I meant what I said last night. This will not happen again."

The words burned coming out my mouth.

"Can we just skip this part?"

I shot him a blank look. "What part?"

He heaves out a sigh, his large hand rubbing against his buzzed head. "Aren't you tired?"

Did he hit his head? Confused filled me as I glanced at the unmade bed. "Tired? I just slept-"

Rafe barked out a bitter laugh. "Of running. Aren't you tired of running?"

My fingers gripped my satin top in an attempt to control my anger. He would choose this exact moment to bait me. Maybe six months ago I would have taken the bait, but I was drained.

He always chose the hard way.

"Really? You want to have this conversation now?" Keep calm. Breathe.

Rafe searched my face with a serious expression, then his lips tipped. "I don't know if you remember, but we have all the time in the world."

I rolled my eyes. Despite my very weak attemps at pushing him away, Rafe never seemed discouraged. He only appeared mildly annoyed at my desperate attempts to kick him out of my life.

"You're about 6 months late on your right to have this conversation. Now, get off of my bed." I tried to shove him off. Nothing.

Blue eyes narrowed. Good, I hope he was mad. He'll finally understand what it was like to be me the past couple months.

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's working. So stop." Was all he said, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Stop doing what, Rafe? There is nothing left to talk about."

"Stop acting like you don't care."

Rafe's determined attitude was exhausting.

And somehow, despite everything, I still felt myself drawn to him, even after how poorly he's treated me.

"Acting like I don't care is all I have left." My stomach tightened at my honesty.

His cold blue eyes grew distant, clearly not liking my truth.

"You have me."

The conviction in his voice would make anyone believe him, but I wasn't going to fall for his pretty words again, no matter how badly I wished they were true.

"No, I don't. I never did so this entire conversation is pointless." I stated a matter-of-factly. "Do yourself a favor and walk away."

Clicking his tongue, Rafe shook his head at me. "There you go again, telling me what I can and cannot do."

I had to hurt him to just get the distance I needed. He'd leave me alone if I hurt him.

"What are you gonna do? Tell your dad on me?" The minute the words flew out of my mouth, I regretted them.

Artic eyes narrowed into slits and his entire demeanor shifted, his shoulders tense and face hard. "Don't talk about him."

"Got daddy issues, do you?" My mouth would not stop.

I could see that I was successfully hitting my target, but it only made my heart ache. It needed to be done though.

Rafe's expression shut off, a familiar cold look settling in his eyes. "Tread fucking lightly."

My heart thudded dangerously as I debated my next words. "I might not hate you today or tomorrow, but I will hate you. Because, hating you is better than loving you."

The words tasted like vinegar coming out of my mouth, but they had their desired effect.

Agony briefly flickers on his face, but he schooled his expression. His eyes seemed to bore through me, our stare off so intense, that I had to look away.

If I believed he could change, even if there was a slight chance, then I would have fought for us. But, I knew him like the back of my hand and Rafe was who he was—unapologetically. I didn't have any fight left.

"I know what you're doing." His voice trembled, dark and on the verge of breaking.

I closed my eyes in defeat. Of course he did. I couldn't even hurt him without him seeing straight through me.

"You want to make me the bad guy? Fine. I'm the bad guy, bad Rafe Cameron. But don't pretend for one second that I'm not under your skin just as bad."

"You are, you are and it's exhausting," I grimaced. "Does knowing that make you feel better?"

"Yes, it does because I'm not the only one feeling like this."

My throat clogged. "How much longer can we keep doing this?"

"As long as it takes for you to give in." Rafe stroked a strand of hair behind my ear, the clouds of his eyes gleaming with twisted adortion.

Frustration bubbled up the surface. He was relentless in his pursuit, not caring if he hurt me in the process. As long as I was his, nothing else matterd, even my pain.

"This isn't a game. I am not a game." I stated harshly, shoving his hand away. "I'm a person--a person who has feelings."

His expression reamined unreadable. "A person with feelings for me."

I was losing. Badly. Talking to Rafe was like talking to a brick wall.

"I've had to put myself together three times, Rafe. Three times!" I screamed, my voice cracking in despair. "Each time harder than the last."

"I finally glued myself together again and you're already pulling away the pieces. For how long am I yours this time? A week?" I pushed. "A month?"

"You've moved on before so do it again. Let me do the same." I cleared my throat to push back tears.

"You think I haven't tried?" He asked incrediously, throwing his hands up in the air in utter disbelief.

Rafe stalked over to me, his eyes brewing with anger as he pointed to the veins in his arms. "You're in so deep, I can't get you out of my system."

I knew the feeling all too well. I am not going to cry.

"'You're right here. Right fucking here and you won't go away." He reached for my hand and placed it directly on his heart which pounded wildy under my touch.

My resolve was breaking and my previous anger easing away like a silent wave. He didn't have any peace either.

The heavy weight on my chest had me leaning forward, resting my forehead against his pec, my hand still in his grasp, pressed tightly against his heart.

"Loving you almost ruined my life." Rafe was a cliff. One that I threw myself over again and again, expecting to fly only to be met with cold hard concrete.

"Again with the meladrama?" Spell broken once more. Another peice being peeled away from me.

A joke, this was all a joke to him.

"You're not listening to me. You never listen to me." I shouted directly into his face, pointing to myself, needing him to finally fucking see me.

Tears finally fell from my eyes as I stared at him with pathetic hoplessness.

"How is what I did any worse than what you did?" The world stopped spinning as his words hit my chest. Something inside me broke.

I shook my head in utter diesbelief at his words. I pushed to my feet, my hands collided with his chest as I shoved him with all my strength.

I headed straight towards the bedroom door, slamming my fists against the door in an attempt to get the guards attention. I was slowly suffocating in this room. He always managed to do this to me.

I should've known better. I mean really known better. Rafe was a mindfuck.

"Run away one more time and I swear to god-" Rafe advaced toward me, his hands reaching out for me.

No, he needed to keep his hands to himself.

"Don't talk to me." I spat, holding my hand up. Facing the door once again, I pound several more times with no response before accepting defeat.

Slumping against the door with my forehead resting against the cool wood, I pleaded, "I can't be in here any more. I just can't."

Once again, no answer.

"We're talking about this. You don't get to avoid this conversation anymore."

"Want to try that again-stop!" Rafe bent down and tossed my body over his shoulder. Anger burned through my veins as I struggled against his grip, but it did nothing to deeter him as he stalked us over to the bed.

Dropping my body roughly on the bed, he towered over me and met my gaze, warning clear in his eyes.

Swallowing my pride, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my palms. "You can't compare our actions. They aren't even on the same playing field, Rafe,"

"I can and I am comparing them, because believe it or not baby, it's the same damn thing."

Rafe was standing directly in front of me, his large thighs caging my dainty figure in. My chest heaved up and down in anger.

"Is that what you tell yourself so you don't have to deal with the fact that you're a shitty person? I'm not listening to this." My gaze was frantic as I tried to figure out an escape plan.

"I've clearly been too nice. You don't have a fucking choice. "

"Rafe, stop it."

"No, you stop it. Why are you acting like you expected me to be a nice guy? I'm not and never will be. So, you're going to sit here and listen to what I have to say." He tone harsh and unnegotiable, grasping my chin in between his fingers.

I glared, meeting his harshness with mine. Fingers threaded into my hair as he forced my head back to stare at him.

"You knew exactly who I was when you met me. You saw the good, bad, and the ugly and still chose to fucking love me," He snarled, his hand slammed against his chest, "to love me."

Oh god. Was he right? He was.

"Then you leave me for being who you fell in love with?" Rafe's body was shaking as he jerked my head back towards his face when I tried to look away. "Knowing who I am and loving me anyway, just for you to walk away. Am I that easy to walk away from? "

His gaze was expectant but he already knew the answer. No, he wasn't easy to walk away from. It almost killed me each and every time.

"No." I answered, my voice so low it came out as a whisper.

"How is that any more cruel than what I did to you?" I couldn't answer becuase he was right. My heart bled at this point as I tried to scramble some coherent thought. I wanted to say something, anything to counter his statements but fell short.

A sob caught the back of my throat.

"So get the fuck off your high horse. I beat up Pope on figure 8 and guess who kept my bed warm after that?" He mused, his fingers brushing against my knees forcing them open more. "I shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin and you consoled me."

I gulped for air but it seemed like nothing was reaching my lungs. He was right. We were so inextricably linked that his darkness became my own. It was so easy for me to excuse all of his horrible actions simply because I love him.

The laugh he let out sent shivers down my spine. "Fuck, I almost drowned Sarah and you still opened your legs for me. Still loved me, didn't you?"

Horror filled every cell in body. I curled my arms into myself as pain slashed through my heart while my hands and arms shook.

"So which one of us is really fucked up?" Me. Him. Both.

Rafe pulled his lip into his mouth as he regarded me with dark eyes. Leaning over me, he brought his mouth to my ear, the ghost of his breath causing shivers to wrack down my spine. "The answer is between your legs."

I stopped breathing. Wetness seeped onto the silk bottoms leaving an obvious stain on my pants. I tried to close my legs, but Rafe let out a little tisk.

I thought I had a chance to save myself before I got stuck in the trecherous storm that was Rafe Cameron. I was doomed the moment I met him.

He smiled at me almost as though he knew I reached the same conclusion as he did.

Rafe lowered to his knees, resting directly in between mine, with his hands raised up. I stare down at him with broken eyes, my handsome monster kneeling on the ground for only me.

When he saw I made no point to move, his large calloused hand covered my shaking ones while the other softly grazed the damn spot in between my legs causing me to visibly tremble.

"Do you get it now? There is no after for us. There is and always will be an us." The words were spoken softly, but firm. Though his eyes weren't on me, and in stead were in between my lefs. His hold on my hands being the only thing anchoring me.

I did. I hated that I loved him. I hated how he'd never leave. I especially hated how I couldn't leave. I hated my body's gross reaction to him and his filthy words.

"I love you."

My head jerked up, eyes wide with surprise at his confession.

"I do. That's why I wear the necklace and the cufflinks." He answered my question. He finally answered my question.

Before I could respond, a soldier bursted into the room with narrowed eyes. He took in the scene before him before relaxing but my body was snapped with tension.

Rafe looked down at our hands before standing up slowly and letting go. "Trust me."

He was asking in the only way he knew how, by demanding. He'd broken so many promises before that the trust between us was in shards. I found myself nodding anyways.

I'd already been broken before, what was once more?

In seconds, Rafe lunged toward the solider with his hands fisting along the shoulders of the man's bulletproof vest. Slamming his body hard to the ground, Rafe climbed on top before lifting the man's body and slamming it against the floor again and again.

He dragged his fist back before slashing it with quick and brute force against the soldier's face. Blood splattered against the white tiled floors as the man groaned in pain.

Rafe didn't stop. His knuckles becoming a marred mess due to them being split open. He didn't even wince.

"Get the gun." A loud ringing noise echoed in my ears as I stared at the unconcious man on the floor who's face was unrecognizable.

"Baby, get the gun." The term of endearment pulled my out of my head. Rafe's electric eyes stared at me with urgency and darted to the side.

I moved my head in the direction of his stare and see a black gun several feet away. My brain shut off and body felt numb as I picked it up with trembling hands.

My steps were timid and hestitant as I walked back over to him. He held out his hand, the rings shining in the light. "Bring it here."

For a second, a brief second, the thought of shooting him crossed my mind. I could be free of him. I could do it.

No, I couldn't. I loved him. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

I rested the heavy pistol in his hand and watched as he dug through the man's pocket and grabbed a phone. "We're getting out of here. I have my boat parked somewhere here on the island. We get to it and we can go wherever you want. Just me and you."

Rafe stood and stepped towards me, determination in his eyes, with his hand held out for me to grab.

I took a sharp intake of breath. My blood rushed loudly in my ears as I decided what I was about to do. My friends, my life, were they worth losing for him?

His necklace sparkling against the sun and those cuflinks shining against his shirt caught my attention.

Our souls were wired together, infused. I was a monster. Just like him.

Loving Rafe was a death sentence. Little did I know—I was already dead.

I reached for his hand.

_________________

Psycho toxic rafe is the man of my dreams but also my nightmares :) They are both crazy though clearly and need help.

Let me know what you think! Next up is Conrad fucking Fisher and I assure you, your heart will be broken.

Tag list: @narcissuspetal @valeriedelevingne @harrys-humble-housewife @mrs-dasilvasantoss @yoonki-bored @maybankslover @blazebreaker @thepopcultureaddict @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @imawhoreforu @jj-pls-give-me-a-chance @summer-may

[anisespice]

tokyo revengers boys when their horny but their s/o is too busy to deal with their shit? (u can add bonten-)

aye aye, anon! 🫡 needy men are my favorite flavor 🤤 thank you so much for your patience, and requesting ♡♡♡

pairing: tr x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, MDI. cursing, vague descriptions of sex, teasing, mild nipple-play, empty threats, crack!fic coded behavior, a tiny pinch of barely-there angst in mikey’s with a hint of misogyny, and i think that’s it :D feel free to lemme know if i missed anything!

notes: something about this request screamed sano to me, and maybe even throw sanzu in the mix for a little treat ( ˘ ³˘). also may have strayed a little from the original plot of the request, but the premise is fairly the same >:)) hope you enjoy !!

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow

“Get outta there.”

Though your tone sounded stern, your demeanor remained placid as you continued typing on your laptop, making no move to actually stop the hands from creeping inside your sweater. You were well aware of their destination, and it was anything but harmless. SHINICHIRO was latched onto you the moment he arrived at your place, excited to spend his day off alone with you, and away from the prying eyes of his siblings for once. Rarely did the two of you get alone time due to your conflicting schedules, savoring the moments you did get without outward distractions in the way.

Things were going great for the most part…until your boss decided to dump busywork into your email, last minute.

“…tell ‘em to go fuck himself, so you can focus on fucking me,” Shinichiro grumbled into your shoulder, calloused hands feeling up your chest with slow, deliberate touches. You chortled, masking the small moan that nearly slipped out when he gently grazed your nipples.

“Good idea, Shin. But wait, oh shoot, fucking you won’t exactly pay my bills, now will it? So, knock it off.”

“Who says it won’t? I’ll pay your bills for the next month, hell, the next six months, if it means you’ll let me just stick it in, baby, please..”

You hissed through your teeth at the small pinch he gave your sensitive nubs, dick damn-near throbbing against your lower back as he rutted against you. Should’ve known sitting on his lap while you worked would backfire, poor thing’s so wound up, you felt a little bad. It’d been nearly three weeks since you and Shinichiro had even a second to breathe the same air, let alone touch each other.

You weren’t immune, craving a taste of him just as much, there’s nothing you wanted more than to succumb to his persuasion. But, having been on bad terms with your tyrant boss one too many times, you couldn’t afford to procrastinate.

“Shini,” you spoke, breathless as he suckled on your neck, growing more bold with his touch, “a-as much as I’d love for you to do that for me… you don’t exactly have the funds to make such an offer.”

He huffed, nipping playfully at your pulse. “I’ll get another job. Good? Good, problem solved, can you take your clothes off now?”

“Tempting…but no. Appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Shinichiro whined in the crook of your neck. His hands slowed to a stop inside your sweater, slipping down to rest on your tummy instead. It sent a tiny shiver up your spine, but was ignored all the same as you attempted to resume typing, seeming to have put a damper on his resolve. Or, so you thought.

Not even a minute passed when you felt his fingers searching for something else to play with. Something that has been calling his name since he waltzed through your front door. “Shin…”

Your warning fell upon deaf ears. Shinichiro merely shrugged, feigning innocence while his hands breached the waistband of your sleep-shorts, stopping right at your pelvic bone. Leaning back in the chair, the ravenette spread his legs further apart, forcing yours to do the same, giving him even more access to your already accessible center. Despite his lanky stature, homie had grip—Try and close your legs all you want, you’ll pull a muscle before pulling out of it. Your heart was borderline going Macarena, focus jumbled up to the point there were more typos than words in the report you tried completing.

You huffed, though your tone sounded less stern compared to the first time. “Shinichiro. If you don’t let me finish my work…I’ll ban your dick from ever entering me or this house for a whole month.”

On any other given day, that empty threat would’ve done the trick, hands flying off you so fast you’d think he got electrocuted. But, this wasn’t any other given day. This was already a two-week long hiatus of his most favorite place to be, in between your legs, and the only thing keeping him from it was your lack of underwear beneath thin-cotten shorts. Threaten him if you must, but it won’t work.

You weren’t fooling anyone.

Playing hard to get could take you so far, but he knew you were mere moments from crumbling to your desires you tried so hard to suppress, no shot you’d last another day, let alone a month. He was determined, and you were being stubborn—An immovable object verses an unstoppable force. Eventually, someone had to give. And it wasn’t about to be you.

It went on like that for another few minutes, him feeling you up and you batting him away. It only worsened the second he went further in your shorts, teasing your sex until you soaked through the fabric. You could feel his smug grin against your shoulder, no doubt thinking he was winning this battle. However, Shinichiro wasn’t aware of your trump card, your Charizard, if you will.

It’s a dirty trick. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

By slamming your fists atop of the table, startling him right out of your shorts, you turned to look him dead in the face, and said, “Don’t make me call Mikey.”

The mechanic widely blinked. But, his shock was short lived as he fixed you a sarcastic look, bringing his slick-coated fingers up to the light and right into his mouth to be even more obnoxious. After pulling them out with a wet pop!, Shinichiro called your bluff.

“You wouldn’t.”

“And would. Emma’s probably dying to catch up with me anyway, since I haven’t been around as much lately. And we both know Mikey would come just to spite you.”

As you continued to hold his stare, not backing down or giving any indication that you were joking, the sardonicism began to melt off his demeanor, and soon realization took its place. Shortly after that, betrayal. How could you be so cruel? He was already competing with an inanimate object, he’ll be damned if his siblings get added to the list. Taking a moment to weight his options, or lack there of, his face soon resembled a kicked puppy with his bottom lip stuck out and everything; you could’ve sworn his eyes started to water. “t’s not fair…been waiting all damn day…”

“I know, baby. But I need you to hang on for just a little longer f’me, okay? And once I’m done, then I’m all yours.” You cooed, placing a small peck on his nose as an olive branch. It seemed to do the trick, his frown softening as he pointed at his lips, puckering them. You snorted, but happily obliged, even placing a few more across his face until you got a smile. Shinichiro soaked up whatever he could as he leaned into you for more.

When it seemed he was satisfied, you turned back to continue working…only for the ravenette to try his luck one more time. “Can I get one here, too?”

You peered at him from over your shoulder—Give you one guess where he was pointing, wearing that all too pleased grin from before. You deadpanned.

“…I’m calling Mikey.”

“NoOO—”

—

“That’s considered sexual harassment, Mr. Sano.”

If he could time travel, MIKEY would beat the breaks off his past-self for ever encouraging you to fill the role of secretary at his work. At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea—Standing at his side, his pretty little assistant, wearing a tight uniform that left nothing to the imagination. He’d bend you over his desk and fuck you anytime he pleased, you’d call him Sir, and walk around the office filled to the brim with his cum until time to go home, then he’d fill you up all over again—The perfect work-life balance.

However, the gangster didn’t account for one teensy thing—You, actually taking the job seriously, and setting professional boundaries the moment you were hired on the staff. No matter if you’d be practically all over him in the car moments prior to clocking in, the second your kitten heels touched the marbled floors of the lobby…he wasn’t your lover anymore. He was your boss.

And he hated it.

“Sexual harass—You’re my s/o, [______].”

“Not within these walls, I’m not.” You continued reading one of the files left on your desk to review for tomorrow’s meeting, only for it soon to vanish right before your eyes. After a long blink, you held out an expectant hand to the stubborn blonde. “May I have that back, please?”

“No.”

“Mr. Sano-”

“If you address me formally one more time, I’ll take you right here in the middle of this hallway. Try me.” He hissed, holding the file out of reach.

You pursed your lips, fighting a grin. Seeing him get so worked up over not being able to get his dick wet was entertaining to say the least, but you were well aware he wasn’t kidding. Clearing your throat, you attempted to tread lightly as your expression morphed back to neutral.

“Alright. Mikey,” his eye twitched, but you continued, “would you be so kind as to let me finish reading the material for your meeting tomorrow? I would hate for anything to be amiss because I didn’t do a thorough review.”

“Tch. Where’s Kakucho? I distinctly remember assigning this task for him. Not you.”

You raised a brow. “You sent him on an impromptu errand to fill up the time he was spending ‘idling at my desk’. You remember that?”

Mikey averted his gaze. “…Don’t recall.”

“‘course you don’t,” you exhaled. “Mikey, with all due respect-”

“Not that name either.” He commanded, slapping the file back on the desk before placing his hands upon it to lean forward, towering over you. You couldn’t fight the grin this time, tilting your head up at him, amusement in your gaze.

“That’s your name, is it not?”

Mikey glared. “You know that isn’t the one I’d prefer you to use.”

With a shrug, you easily replied, “It’s what most of your employees call you. And last time I checked, that included me-” Mikey was quick to grab your chin, forcing you to look deep into his dark, deranged eyes. Man’s was definitely toeing line of his limit, and you were pushing it.

“And last time I checked, you aren’t like most employees. You’re my partner who’s working on my last nerve, and should really consider dropping this whole ‘professionalism’ act before I remind them why they were hired in the first place. And no, it wasn’t for your work ethic and attention to detail, or whatever bullshit Koko told you in the interview.”

Ouch.

Not to say you didn’t figure there were ulterior motives behind getting approved for the job, especially under the circumstances that you were heavily under-qualified to work in their type of environment. But, you tried your damnedest to keep up, do your part, and not be a burden on the team. For him to call it nonsense and boldly confirm such suspicions outloud? You think he realized his mistake the second your face reverted back to its neutral state. Wiggling out of his grip, you leaned back in the chair with your arms tightly crossed to your chest.

“That so? Well then, Michael, how ‘bout I remind you why a man shouldn’t mix his business with his pleasure. Things could turn ugly for him, maybe even end up losing both a loyal employee and a lover all in one day. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Out of all the names, that one made him cringe the most. A clear indicator of his grandiose fuck-up, one that if he didn’t fix immediately, he’d soon suffer the consequences. And your wrath.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. It came out wrong-”

“Oh, I’m sure it didn’t. You’re a man who speaks his mind, after all.”

Mikey, though subtly, panicked. This wasn’t at all how he expected the conversation to go. But, it’s not his fault! It was his dick doing all the driving. With you working for Bonten, his long hours became yours, and by the time you both got home, sex became scarce due to your exhaustion. He was immune to the taxation of the job, while it was kicking your ass. And to top it off, he couldn’t even cop a feel of his own s/o, in his own damn building, because of ‘power imbalances’ between a boss and secretary that was ‘socially unacceptable’, according to you…as you work for the biggest crime syndicate in all of Japan.

Flawed reasoning aside, it drove him insane.

But, no thanks to his lust-clouded brashness, if Mikey thought getting some action at work was difficult, his chances at home just got a whole lot worse. He’d be lucky if you even slept in the same bed tonight.

“[_____],” he sighed, reaching over to grab your hand, though you moved it away at the last second. “You do a fantastic job here, angel. Exceeded all my expectations, actually-”

“Well, based on the merits of why you hired me in the first place, that doesn’t sound like much.” At that point, you went back to reviewing the file he threw back on the desk, seeming disinterested. But, Mikey knew better.

He’d hurt your feelings. To be reduced to nothing but eye candy for him, when you were busting your ass off like everyone else, it stung. It was playful at first, but now the blonde had crossed a line. With determination, Mikey removed the file from your sight once more, rounding the desk before crouching down so he could level with you this time.

You allowed him to take your hands in his, still indifferent. Mikey spoke with a tenderness only reserved for you, one that never failed to melt any cold front you built to wane his efforts.

“I was being childish. I shouldn’t have diminished your role like that, and I apologize for making you feel like your work isn’t appreciated. I’m glad to have you as my loyal employee. Even if a visit in my office from my lover from time to time wouldn’t be too bad, either…”

His words trailed off, along with his gaze as he reminisced. You chortled, shaking your head. Mikey looked back at you, ghost of a grin on his face. “I’ll back off. Promise.”

You raised a brow, skeptical. “You mean it?”

“Mmhm. Under one condition.”

You groaned, “Mikey-”

“Manjiro.”

“Oh, is that the condition?” He lightly pinched you for the snark, resting his head on your lap. But, before you could reprimand him for his inappropriate position, your words catch in your throat.

His stare was intense as they gazed up at you with hidden hunger, the tenderness still swimming in the inky pools, but not as present compared to moments ago. Mikey licked his lips, nuzzling against your plush thigh.

“Work less hours. Don’t want you to run yourself ragged trynna keep up with the rest of us. We’ve been doing this line of work a lot longer than you have, baby. No need to overcompensate. I’m already proud of you.”

Steadily did those words make your heart melt, until your were practically mush once they’ve set in. To hear his pride in you almost made you kick your feet, for that was all you really wanted at the end of the day—Acknowledgment. Validation. Praise. And working less hours would definitely benefit in more ways than one, more so on your mental health. You won’t lie and say this new job hasn’t been a challenge, all the talk about blood, death and drugs, one could only handle so much.

“Thank you..Manjiro.” He lit up at the sound of his name spilling sweetly from your lips. “I greatly appreciate you saying that. But, what’s the catch?”

He hummed, hands releasing yours to caress your calves all the way back up to your hips. Mikey didn’t pull nor tug, more so just holding you in place as he continued to watch you like a hawk. Eventually he shook his head, tresses fluttering with him as they curtained the sides of his face.

“No catch. Work your hours, I’ll leave you be…But once those hours are up, you better be sitting pretty on my desk with your reports in one hand and your underwear in the other, waiting for me to choose between my business and my pleasure. Deal?”

—

“Pout all you want, I’m not sitting on your face.”

When you informed your darling SANZU that your Saturdays were strictly for housework, he honestly thought you were joking—What idiot in their twenties would spend the weekend doing that?

Evidently his idiot, that’s who.

Imagine his surprise when he showed up, unannounced, ready to have you on every piece of furniture, only to be threatened with a feather duster the second he went to grab your ass. “Paws off. I already changed the sheets on my bed, cleaned the bathroom, the kitchen, and mopped the floors, so unless you’re here to help dust or wipe windows, keep it in your pants, Haruchiyo.”

Needless to say, he wasn’t the happiest houseguest.

After the long work week he’s had, Sanzu was looking forward to locking the two of you in the back all weekend, going at it like rabbits with no other purpose but keep the neighbors up—Pretty much until the room stank. But, thanks to this cleaning ritual of yours, that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. Especially not with the various scented candles you were burning to hide the potent smell of bleach and pine-sol. God, he was getting such a headache from overstimulation…and not the good kind.

“This is such bullshit,” he groaned into the couch, where you banished him after he tried to bend you over the washing machine while you were loading another basket of dirty clothes. “Why’d you even invite me over if we weren’t gonna do anything…”

You paused from folding, side-eyeing him. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You said you were staying in all day. That’s practically code for: I’m bored, come dick me down.”

Your laugh had snuck up on you, racking through your entire body to the point you had curled forward. The leap he took to draw such a conclusion nearly gave you whiplash as you attempted to regain composure. “Maybe for freaky-fucks like you, but the rest of us usually mean it as something mundane. Like, oh I dunno, doing chores.”

“On a Saturday?? What ‘re ya, 80??”

You shrugged, placing another item onto its respective pile. “You don’t have to stay, y’know. If you have something better to do, then by all means, don’t let me keep you.”

Sanzu abruptly sat up from his position, the clothes you had laid on his back flopping onto the floor, instantly losing their folded shape. You shot him an annoyed glance, but figured some of the blame was yours for using his skittish-ass for a table. The pinkette wore a pitiful look, wide cerulean eyes piercing right through you as he gave a defiant punch to the couch cushion, “Was ‘posed to be doing you! And you are keeping me from doing that!”

With a huff, you set aside the pile you were currently working through to gather up the clothes that he so rudely let fall to the floor. “Unfortunate. Now lay back down, and be a good table. Since you wanted to be chair so fucking badly.”

“Piss off.”

He absolutely laid back down.

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Part 2 to this. If you want to commission me or send me a coffee, click here.

You make gyu invite soobin over to join your weekly movie night. He's upset as it's usually a you and him only affair but after what he did and your distant attitude following it, he's desperate to get back on your good graces.

But when Soobin gets there and you choose to cuddle up next to the tall boy on the couch while making gyu sit in the adjacent chair, his pout is in full effect.

He understands he's being punished though, and so he takes it, hoping that would be the extent of it. But of course it's not.

As the movie progresses, you get more and more touchy with soobin, your touches plausibly innocent at first, just a hand skimming his chest and upper belly, forehead nestled in the crook of his neck, nothing too outrageous. But as time goes on, your hand lowers, coming to rest on his lower belly, just above his pants, stroking the skin there while you breath wafts against his neck. You can feel him going rigid under you, but he doesn’t protest or pull away. Perfect.

You kick it up a notch, hand going down to his upper thighs, messaging the inner aspect of it, fingers grazing his now prominent bulge while your lips brush against his sensitive neck.

Soobin is squirming now, breaths coming out quick as he unconsciousnesly tries to get you to grab his cock, bucking his hips ever so slightly against the back of your hand.

You finally give in, palming his generous bulge in your hand, and he lets out a squeaky moan.

"Noona!" You hear Beomgyu exclaim, and both of you look at him. Soobin straightens up, seeming to remember that Beomgyu was there. You on the other hand were hyper aware of his presence, making sure he caught everything you were doing to his friend, and delighting in the prominent bulge in his own pants. This is exactly where you wanted him.

"Ignore him." You grab Soobin's jaw, making him face you, before you drop your hand inside his pants, finally touching his hot dick, and making him moan out. "Just focus on me."

"Okay." He nods dumbly and you grin. You chose the perfect guy out of Beomgyu's friends--so malleable and easy. Speaking of Beomgyu, he now had his own hand on his cock, matching your pace on his friend's member.

"Good boy. I only fuck good boys, you know?" You say pointedly and Beomgyu lets out a heartbroken whine, finally fully realizing what was going on here.

"Noona, I--"

"Shut up or I take him to my bedroom and you don't get anything at all."

He shudders at the threat. "Yes, noona."

"He can watch, can't be bunny? Bad puppy needs to see how good boys act. Will you help me teach him?" You coo at Soobin, squeezing his cock in your hand and making him sputter and nod. "Thank you. I knew you were a good boy."

You ignore Beomgyu's whines and pull down Soobin's sweatpants, releasing his cock. "Oh handsome baby has such a big cock. Gyu's cock is so small."

Beomgyu protests heatedly, pulling his own pants down and showing you his cock. "I don't have a small cock! Noona, look."

You were riling him up on purpose. Yes, soobin was pretty big but Beomgyu was far from small. Still, your words get to him nonetheless.

"I'm sure you'll fill me up so good." You purr, ignoring Beomgyu, hand going up and down Soobin's cock. Soobin doesn't get the chance to reply before Beomgyu is speaking up once more. "No, please. Fuck me instead. I can make you feel so much better. He doesn't even know what to do with his cock. I heard what his exes say."

Soobin blushes but doesn't deny Beomgyu's claims.

"Is that true, bunny?"

Soobin looks down in embarrassment, wincing when you laugh. You prop his chin up so he'd look at you. "That's okay. I can teach you."

"No!" Beomgyu wails, his words backfiring.

"Beomgyu, do I need to gag you?"

"I'm sorry for being bad. I was just jealous, please. Forget about him and fuck me."

You scoff, taking your hand off Soobin's dick to take your shorts and panties off, getting up with them in hand and walking towards Beomgyu.

"Noona--" you stuff the panties in his mouth, shutting him up. "You better keep them in or I'll kick you out."

He nods, eyes tearing up. You go back to sit next to Soobin, but instead of jerking him off again, you spread your legs, putting your pussy on full display for both the boys to see.

Immediately, Beomgyu leaps off the chair and sits in front of you. He mewls something that sounds like a plea, leaning forward. You push him away by his forehead, scoffing. "Behave. Or is that too hard for you to do?"

You grab Soobin's hand and put it to your pussy. "Finger me, bunny."

Soobin is all too happy to obey, clumsily thrusting two fingers inside your pussy. His fingers are as big as any part of him, but luckily, you're so wet by the whole situation that they glide in easily, and his coarse movements still manage to feel good for you, especially when Beomgyu is sitting right there practically drooling through your panties.

"That feel so good." You moan out pornographically, intent on driving Beomgyu insane, and by the muffled whimpers he lets out and the desperate way he fucks his own hand, you're certain you have succeeded.

But Beomgyu isn't the only one affected, Soobin is spurred on by your words, pumps his fingers into you faster, loud squelching sounds filling the room and strings of your arousal sticking to his palm every time he pulls his hand back--the scene so obscene you can't hold back anymore, cumming on Soobin's fingers and covering his palm up with your release.

Beomgyu is beside himself with need, scooting up to you until he's almost face-planting into your pussy.

"You want a taste, mutt?" You ask condescendingly and he nods vigorously. You pull your underwear from his mouth and take Soobin's fingers out of you. But instead of letting him eat you out like he wanted, you guided Soobin's hand to Beomgyu's mouth, which the horny slut doesn't hesitate in taking, moaning wantonly at the taste.

"What a desperate slut." You sneer, but your attention is pulled away by Soobin tugging at your arm. "Can I fuck you now, noona?"

Upon hearing Beomgyu's incessant denial at this, you're even more happy you chose Soobin.

______________

You take both boys into your bedroom. Grabbing some tape and binding Beomgyu's wrists together behind his back before you sit him on a chair and tape a fleshlight on it, guiding his dick into it after slicking it up. He lets you do what you want with him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't whine and beg against it the whole time. You don't instuct him on anything, simply leaving him there and heading to the bed, getting on your hands and knees and facing Beomgyu.

"Come on, bunny. Want your cock now." You tell soobin who was still standing where you left him. He's such a good boy.

He scrambles to get on the bed and you laugh, both at him and at the pained expression on Beomgyu's face knowing he'll be forced to sit there and watch his friend fuck you.

Soobin clumsily struggles to align his cock with your entrance, missing a few times in his haste, but eventually he's able to get it right and he manages to sink into you with one desperate thrust of his hips that has you both sighing contently.

"That's it. That's just what I needed." You moan out, genuinely enjoying the way Soobin is stretching you out, only half-paying attention to Beomgyu's own helpless thrust into the fleshlight as if he's imagining it's your pussy. He probably is, if his dazed expression is anything to go by.

Soobin himself is overwhelmed by the feeling of your pussy wrapped so tightly around him, reluctant to set a satisfying pace for fear of ending it too soon.But with praises and encouragement from you that serve both to get him going and to torment Beomgyu, Soobin is able to soon pick up the pace.

"Doing so good, baby. Fucking me so well." You mewl, rocking back against him, taking his cock to your absolute limit, feeling it brushing up so deep inside of you that you almost forget Beomgyu is there until he groans. "Noona, stop it. I learned my lesson. Just come here and sit on my cock. I can fuck you much better than he can."

He fucks into the fleshlight as he speaks, mimicking Soobin's movements. For his part, Soobin is not letting you go without a fight, and he grabs onto your waist tightly as if he's afraid you'll actually listen to Beomgyu and leave him all high and dry.

"No! Forget about him. He had his chance and he blew it." Soobin readily throws his friend under the bus, picking up his pace in an effort to not let you second guess your decision to choose him. "You said I make you feel good. Let me make you feel good."

"You're right, bunny. Gyu's been so bad. He doesn't deserve my wet, tight pussy." You moan out lewdly, repaying Beomgyu tenfold for what he's done to you.

"I'm sorry." He sobs, still pathetically fucking his toy, the desperate slut. "I need you. Please don't leave me like this."

"Do you? You seem to be doing just fine fucking that piece of plastic. Don't even need a real pussy to get off."

"Only because you're there. Only because you're watching me." He confesses, getting more desperate the more you talk to him and give him attention.

"Is that why you came all over that guy? Because I was there to see you whore yourself out?"

"Yes! Yes!" He nods vigorously, "Wanted you to see."

"Well, now you have to be the one to see. You have to sit there and watch me get fucked and bred by your best friend." You tell him vindictively, his protest getting cut off by said friend who grunts loudly. "I can cum inside?"

You look straight at Beomgyu as you speak, the wet sounds of fucking ringing in your ears. "Yes, pretty boy. Fill me up with your cum."

Soobin needed no further invitation, falling forward and draping himself over your body, covering you as he fucks you ruthlessly, intent on making your words a reality, and it doesn't take him long to do so, his pants and groans building up until they reach a crescendo, terminating in a cut off whine as he fills you up, keeping himself plugged in your pussy as his cock spurts again and again inside you.

"Good boy, fulling me up so good." You drawl, eyes glued to Beomgyu who chokes and speeds up, frantically fucking the toy before he cries out, his cum spurting out the other end, landing on the chair and the floor.

"Did I say you can cum?" You ask Beomgyu sharply and he looks at you in panic. "I--I--you said--"

"I told Soobin to cum, not you. Can't even follow simple instuctions." You spit out and he cowers, devastated that he upset you once again.

You scoff sourly, getting off the bed, Soobin's heavy cock slipping out of your pussy and a gush of cum coming out to coat your thighs as you walk towards the bathroom, calling out for no particular boy as you go, "Let's get cleaned up."

Both boys scramble to follow you, but only one is allowed in the bath with you and that is, of course, Soobin. You situate the taller boy between your legs, cleaning him up gently as Beomgyu sits on the cold tiles, resting his head on the edge of the bathtub, and watches you, a strange look in his eyes that leaves you uneasy.

[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 3, “devils rolls the dice, angels roll their eyes. if i bleed, you’ll be the last to know.”

description: situationship x stiles.

stiles: hey :)

y/n: hello! don’t let coach see u on ur phone, loser :)

stiles: i know, i know. just thinking of you

y/n: oh?

y/n’s throat tightened. she looked up across the lunch room, past danny’s head. her stare blanked at the wall. he was thinking of her. thinking of her…how? that was a very loaded statement to make. it was…flirtatious. caring. it was a strings attached kind of statement. it was dangerous.

her phone buzzed.

stiles: thinking of that lacey bra you had on the other day, mostly :)

y/n flushed, a red, hot buzz radiating off her skin. she nearly choked on her spit, and had to take a quick sip of water. danny- who was shooting off at the mouth about something during the lacrosse game last friday- barely glanced at her. he kept blabbering.

this? y/n was good at this. she didn’t have to look him in the eye while saying the dirtjest things she could. this was just her, her phone, and her imagination.

y/n: today it’s red

stiles: pics or it didn’t happen

stiles…was not good at this. she didn’t expect him to be. he was awkward, no matter what. but, it took the pressure off of most of the stressful things in life. that’s part of what she was starting to value most in his character.

y/n: come see for yourself ;)

stiles: fuck, i’m in econ!

y/n: excuses, excuses

stiles: no, no, i would if i could, i promise!

y/n: prove it, then ;)

stiles: meet me in the locker room in 5

y/n pocketed her phone, grabbed her bag.

it had been nearly a week since their first time. she thought about it almost every second of every day. it was clouding the heartbreak that had lingered on her like freezing rain. it was loosening her mangled mind.

she hadn’t expected for them to fuck every single day since then. but, neither of them had said anything about it. she was half-worried that she was so terrible, he didn’t want anything to do with that aspect of their relationship. instead, they’d just been texting a lot about other stuff. music, movies, books. they were bonding.

it was cool to have another friend, but god- she wanted him.

stiles had been dealing with his own issues. he, scott, lydia, allison- they’d spent a night tracking boyd and cora, after searching for a week to find them in the vault. it was an exhausting gig, on top of lacrosse practice, the game last friday, homework. he hadn’t had time to really think about getting laid.

but, now, here he was- monday at 12:10pm, during economics, with coach yelling like a banshee- he tried to focus on the chalkboard, on the text highlighted in his book. all he could think about was her. her skin, delicate beneath his fingertips. her lips, so plump against his neck. her legs-

he dumped his shit into his backpack and shouldered it quickly. scott whipped his head towards his friend, concerned. then, the werewolf caught a whiff of stiles’ hormones. scott crinkled his expression, grossed out. but, he shot stiles a half-hearted thumbs up.

coach called after the boy, “hey, next time, let’s try, excuse me, may i use the restroom, k?”

coach continued on with some angry remark, but stiles ignored him.

he made it to the locker room, quickly, nearly out of breath from how fast his pace was. stiles tossed the door open, and it slammed shut behind him. y/n wasn’t visible to him. he set down his bag, “y/n? hello?”

stiles looked around every which corner, but she wasn’t there. he pulled out his phone, and saw a text from her.

y/n: was on my way, but danny made me go stalk the new boy ethan in study hall. i’m so so sorry stiles! i’m totally going to make it up to. what are you doing 6th period?????

stiles’ shoulders dropped. he slouched down on one of the benches, feeling a little blue-balled. then, a second text dinged.

y/n: also here, for now ;) 1 attached photo

he nearly broke his phone. it flipped out of his hand, and he jumped from the bench to grab it before it hit the floor. he fell onto his knees, awkwardly holding the device in the air. the picture stared back at him. she’d slipped into the school bathroom to take a picture for him. for him. stiles.

he fell over, again, this time onto his stomach. stiles groaned, annoyedly, into the concrete floor of the locker room. his life sucked so bad.

the bell rang for lunch.

–

stiles: all yours, baby. see you, then

y/n, now in history, felt her breath hitch at the text. baby? baby. he called her baby. she knew, a lot of the times, people used pet names when they were sexting. but, this…was strange for a guy like stiles. he wasn’t fluid or, by any means, good at sexting. he wasn’t the type to know to say that. he wasn’t the type to…y/n overthought it every which way that she possibly could.

and, then, he texted her again.

stiles: you are so, so beautiful. 1 attached photo

y/n choked on her spit this time. she dropped her phone onto the desk, coughing hysterically. danny, seated behind her, leaned forward. he patted her back, asked her if she was okay. she gave him a thumbs up, kind of.

stiles was wearing underwear with pickles on them.

and he was very, very hard.

the bell rang, signaling the end of the transitional period, and the instructor began the lesson. y/n took a swig of water. she was sweating a little bit. she was struggling to sit still.

someone’s phone dinged. the instructor called out, “please, everyone, take a moment to put your phones away.”

y/n grabbed her cell, staring intensely at the photo as she slowly, painfully, leaned over to put it in her bag.

–

y/n: do you know how hard it was to pay attention in class, thinking about you like that?

y/n: i want to take care of you so badly

y/n: i’m in the locker room, where are you?

y/n: please, stiles. need you

stiles phone buzzed, four times, in the back of his jeans pocket. scott, ethan, and aiden glanced over at him. he cleared his throat, scratched the side of his neck.

“let me, just…” he stepped aside from the conversation to look at his phone screen.

his face turned beat red.

he hasn’t forgotten about their plans, but time got away from him. it was 6th period, and he was stuck interrogating alpha werewolves about supernatural shit. it was in times like these, when he wished life was normal. unfortunately, life is anything but.

stiles: i’m so fucking sorry. scott needed me for something. please don’t be mad at me. next period, promise

y/n: you know girls can get blue ball too?

y/n: it’s just easier to hide.

y/n: good luck :) 1 attached photo

oh, fuck.

–

7th period.

y/n was marching towards the locker room. she dumped her book bag at her locker, intending to be done with school for the day, since her next class would be her free period. she had one very important, very…big thing on her mind.

y/n was just around the corner from the locker room when a voice called out her name. she skidded to a stop, shoulders tense, and a huff on her lips, where stiles’ should be.

“y/n…the bell rang four minutes ago,” miss blake spoke, looking pointedly in y/n’s eyes.

y/n smiled, so painfully fake, “yes, ma’am.”

“so, you have one minute to get to my class on time. yet, you seem to be headed for the locker room. do you have a late pass?” miss blake was on her high fucking horse today, it seemed.

y/n shook her head, lips pursed in annoyance, “no, ma’am.”

“oh, silly me, then,” she rolled her eyes in a funny manner, “you must just be turning around then. here, we can walk together?”

miss blake looped her arm through y/n’s, and led them towards the english classroom at the other end of the hall.

y/n didn’t get a chance to text stiles back, but she just knew the poor boy was about to burst.

–

stiles: here

stiles: i can’t wait to touch you

stiles: oh my god i just saw miss blake literally drag you away from me

stiles: i’m gonna die

stiles: don’t even try to apologize, it’s literally not your fault. and i can survive with not getting off for a little while longer. guilt free zone here :)

stiles: but oh my god you’re so fucking pretty

stiles: you look so good today. and your ass looks good in those jeans

stiles: ok have fun in english. text me when you’re out. if you can. please. thanks

incoming call from: y/n :)

“y/n?”

“stiles!”

“speaking?”

“it’s my free period.”

“meet me at my jeep in 5.”

“im already here.”

–

stiles parked his jeep behind the lacrosse field. he watched y/n climb into the back seat, painfully slow in her movements. she settled onto the bench in the back of his jeep, blushing already, smiling shyly. stiles waited but a second to climb towards her. only he was a million times more awkward about it. stiles clambered through the vehicle.

“oh-!” y/n touched his back gently, assuring he safely made it back there.

his face was close to hers once he was seated. stiles flashed a sweet grin, “hi.”

“hi,” she giggled lightly. “how are you doing?”

“i’m doing swell, thank you,” stiles eyed her lips, the low curve of her v-neck t-shirt.

y/n took a breath to speak, her chest expanding. stiles watched her watched the tops of her breasts move. she barely said, “i was-“

before stiles interrupted, “i am so totally interested in what you have to say, but i really fucking need to touch you and kiss you, so please shut the fuck up.”

the soft sound of the low-volume radio and the idling engine was background noise. stiles’ windows were tinted just enough to dull out the light inside. it was tight, and they struggled against each other more than once. but stiles was more than happy to bend into strange positions so that y/n was comfortable. she didn’t ask him to- but he insisted. he insisted on putting his jacket beneath her head, so she could have a makeshift pillow. he insisted that she didn’t have to give him a blow job, so that she wouldn’t have to squeeze onto her knees behind the front seat. sure, they might have been bare minimum, consensual things that weren’t anything to write home about. but in this day and age, a boy muttering, “‘is okay?” each and every time he moved against y/n was enough to give her butterflies. it meant he cared. stiles cared.

the first time they had sex, it was just sex. they fucked, she went to the bathroom afterwards, and when she got back, he was dressed, ready to leave. stiles hadn’t known what he was supposed to do, but he figured she didn’t want him to linger.

this time, after he pulled out, wrapped the condom, and tossed it into the mini trash can in the front seat, stiles scooted over far enough on the bench to allow her room to lay down beside him. this time, it was heated…passionate. romantic.

y/n wasn’t even thinking, she was just caught up in the moment. she lay her head on his bare chest, ear cupped so she could hear his heartbeat. he was sticky with sweat, and his breathing was quick and loud. but he was warm, comfortable, and…strong. she’d never noticed that before. how defined his chest was. he was a lacrosse player, after all. even if he spent most of the time on the bench, he was still working out.

stiles tensed up under her affection, at first, but he became comfortable soon enough. he peered down at y/n. she stared off into space, and her expression was hidden from him. stiles gently slid his arm around her and the tips of his fingers floated up and down her bicep.

“what’re you thinking about?” stiles found himself saying.

y/n took a breath, regaining some semblance of awareness after she had been caught up in a daydreaming feeling. usually, after sex, she always felt…distanced. like she was behind glass. the air was slowly being sucked out of the box by her own lungs. she was suffocating.

the first time with stiles- it had felt like that, if only because of her internal battle with her feelings for sam. her mind had been racing with over wrung thoughts.

other times, like with sam, it was because the sex had felt like a transaction, like a consummation of some small part of her she’d never get it. this whole new generation was focused on sexual liberation- and y/n was into that. sex was awesome- it felt good. but, that idea completely ignored the fact that, most often, sex between a teenage boy and girl was laced with miscommunication and manipulation.

this time- this time was good. this time felt- liberating. it felt good. she got off. sure, she’d gotten off a few other hands, if only at her own hands. but, this time- stiles had made her feel good. and, she didn’t feel shitty because she wasn’t trying to get some small form of intimacy from someone she wanted to love and have. no, this time it was really just sex. sex with someone kind, considerate, and unattached.

(even if they were cuddling and neither of them wanted to admit how good that felt.)

“not much,” y/n lied through her teeth.

stiles caught a piece of her hair between his fingers and tugged at mindlessly. it tickled the back of her neck. stiles was hoping she was going to say something heartfelt, something sweet. he had gotten his hopes, for no reason. after all, he knew the rules. “fair. uh, hey, listen…i should probably-“

“oh, yeah, no, of course,” y/n sat up quickly, covering herself with his jacket.

they settled, side by side, on the seats of the jeep. y/n shifted awkwardly, reaching across his lap for her t-shirt that shoved between the wall and the seat. stiles reached her direction for his own shirt. they stumbled over each other for a second or two, muttering sorry’s and elbowing sides. then they were holding their respective clothing pieces.

they dressed in silence.

“i’ll drive you back, okay?” stiles offered.

y/n tugged her shirt down her torso, breathing deeply, “uh, sure, yeah. yeah.”

so, stiles drove them back over to the main parking lot. school was just letting out for the day. stiles spotted scott running down the front steps, seemingly in a rush, as the jeep came to a stop beside y/n’s car.

“listen, uh,” she turned her knees towards him, jaw open with a buffering conversation.

stiles wasn’t paying attention, but she didn’t notice. he was too busy watching scott, who was now talking to allison. and, then he saw derek power walking towards them.

“yeah, hey, um, could you send it in a text? i’ve gotta get somewhere. thanks for- that. yep!” stiles popped open the jeep door. he slid out, in a hurry, slamming the door shut before she could get another word in.

y/n sat there, for a moment, in utter shock. she took a deep, unsettled breath.

she needed to call danny.

–

“yeah, that’s fucking strange.”

y/n plopped onto her bed, rocking danny in his spot beside her. she took a hit from her cart, letting the smoke roll out as she replied with, “isn’t that fucking strange? like, it’s not that i expected we cuddle for twenty minutes and be all cutesy. but, the way he just rushed me out of there? that was weird.”

“maybe he’s pushing you cause he’s scared of having feelings for you,” danny tossed a ball of popcorn into his mouth, shrugging nonchalantly.

y/n rolled her eyes. she shifted onto her stomach, shoving her head into her pillow. “ugh,” she groaned, loudly. “you know, maybe i should end things right now. it’s gonna get complicated, i can already tell.“

“wait, okay,” danny pulled the pillow out from beneath her. she looked up at him. “let’s do a pro and con list before we make any rash decisions.“

“literally why?” y/n questioned.

danny waved her off, “cause it gives me entertainment. besides, it’ll be fun. now, give me a pro…”

she thought, tapped her chin as if it helped, “i think it’s helping me get over sam. i mean, i’ve stopped driving past his work. and i unfriended his mom on facebook. don’t think about him as much.”

danny clapped lightly, “aw, wait, yay. that’s such good news! best pro ever. okay, now, con.”

“um,” she hummed, “maybe…i don’t know. like, it’s complicated. like, it’s gonna be complicated.”

“yeah, but what’s complicated about it? nothing! so, one of you catches feelings- fuck it. you figure it out. i know another pro- the sex if fucking good. it’s making you feel good. you’ve got a goddamn glow about you, babe. you’re getting over bitch boy, you’re moving along. it’s not complicated.”

“i just,” y/n lay her head down again, “i’m just scared of getting hurt again, so soon. i feel like it would wreck me.”

“if you get hurt,” danny set his hand on her arm, “then, we’ll get through it, again. it’ll pass, it always does.“

she smiled up at her friend, only a little encouraged by his words. she still felt off. danny could tell by the distant look in her eyes. “but, you know, if you’re that worried- just end it. don’t continue. don’t put yourself in a situation where you think you could end up getting hurt.”

y/n didn’t know what to say. he was right, both sides of his argument were right. danny was the type of person to always be.

“you know what we should do?” y/n sat up, suddenly, the light bulb above her head aglow, “throw a party!”

danny laughed at her, leaning his head on his hand. “really? you are the last person i’d expect to want to throw a party.”

“i know, but- let’s do it! i wanna get fucked up and just chill out for a night.”

“you know,” danny pointed at her with a smug expression, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all year.”

[penvisions]

wish i never met you {a garnish one shot}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Fear of rejection and messing up so beyond comprehension makes you regret crossing the professional line and getting to know Joel as you do now.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, joel thinks he's the one in charge but we all know it's really reader, religious contemplation, mentions of past trauma, mentions of bad family dynamics, smoking, consumption of alcohol, menstruation, talk of menstruation, blood, cramps, muscle soreness, unorthodox pregnancy announcement, reader is a hot mess, allusions to adult content, allusions to smut, mentions of past p in v, might need to add more if i missed anything!

A/N: wrote this as part of a fun, silly fic title prompt game submission from a sweet anon. it totally inspired an angsty din piece at first that i have in my drafts but then these two slammed into my brain and hijacked the idea. i just love them, your honor. i have so much love for them. NOW I KNOW THIS SUBJECT MATTER ISN'T FOR EVERYONE, I REALLY DEBATED POSTING THIS OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS BC I KNOW IT'S NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA but i feel like this is a good trajectory for these two, truly. i'm so sorry if anyone disagrees with the direction i took this in and i hopei t doesn't take away from the original series for y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“No, fuck off.” Was the quick response to a wide palm caressing over your back. You were hunched over your crossed legs on the couch, aware of how bad the position was for your posture. But it was the only way to find any relief on your aching back. You had thought it was cramps at first, really, but then you realized all the symptoms of your monthly cycle fell in line with something else when the bleeding never started.

“Excuse me, darlin’? You sure you wanna use that language with me?” Joel’s deep voice was tinged with an edge, giving you the chance to retract your expletives. You were never so outright with your denial, never wanting to deny the man a few feet away. But the way in which you had expressed it to an obviously exhausted Joel was maybe too bold for the late hour. But you didn’t take it, instead repeating yourself.

“Kindly, fuck off. Don’t touch me.” You pulled away from him, hunching lower under his hand to break the contact.

“That’s not much better, ya know.” Joel’s hands shifted to his waist, a thick brow raised as he took in the sight of you nearly balled up, the faint light of the screen lighting up your face as you ignored him.

A harsh contraction of your muscles had you groaning out, “I wish I never met you.”

“C’mon now, you don’t mean that.” Joel huffed, trying to keep his calm, but you knew it was hard for him even if you really didn’t feel all that good. You never took your pain or frustration out on him like this, it was always soft murmurs of ‘hold me’ or ‘can I borrow your warmth’. Never the way you were reacting now.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into y-“ His mouth snapped shut, eyes focusing on the screen. On the words you had typed into the search engine. Normally he would tease you over the typos, your fingers not working as quick as you mind for all the grace and focus you normally had to expertly wield a sharp knife.

 Your heart thumped at the sudden silence. The fizzling tension that had filled the room.

“Don’t!” You gasped out, slamming the laptop closed and shielding the device with your body completely.

“Darlin’…” You swore you could hear the cogs turning in his head. Thinking back on the depraved as desperate way you had been seeking him out when he returned home from a late shift at the restaurant even despite the haze of sleep, in the mornings before you had to peel yourself away to go to campus, the photos you had brazenly sent him without warning that had him shielding or turning his phone over throughout the day. Thinking back on the way you had been inhaling food at any occasion, none of your normal contemplation or silence after what you considered a binge. Thinking back on the way you had begun to complain of your work clothing feeling wrong and too tight on your aching body as you dressed in the morning.

When he moved to sit on the other side of the couch, far too close for comfort, you shied away and pressed your back into the arm on your end.

“Not gonna touch ya, you have my word.” He raised his hands placatingly, his expression so soft that the tears burst from you without warning.

“You do-don’t wanna touch me. Not anymo-more.” Hiccups jolted your body, making the skin you were already uncomfortable in tingle. “I ruined ev-everything.”

He regarded you with a small frown, his plush lips pulled down as he clasped his hands together in his lap. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the words flew from you.

“I remember what you said, on the line.” You narrowed your eyes at him as they echoed in your head.

‘It had been a slow day, prep and cleaning taking over most of the evening shift. It had been back before you had taken on a role in the kitchen. Sneaking fries from the bowl of them on the expo line. They hadn’t been hot or even salted, but they were better than snacking on the fruity garnishes at the bar.

He had been passing the time with who you hadn’t known at the time was his brother, Tommy. Who had driven into the city to help take a look at the empty lot beside the restaurant, both of them contemplating the construction of a patio. But they had ended up in the kitchen, hunger too strong a call.

While Joel was on the line, Tommy was beside you, sneaking fries with a wink in your direction. But you ignored him, focused on looking through the catalogue of one of your vendors. Trying to make a seasonal menu. But your ears caught the harsh grunt of the man your eyes trailed over in the midst of busy nights.

“Wouldn’t do it, no.”

“C’mon, you seriously tellin’ me you wouldn’t baby sit for me if I were to gift you with a niece or nephew.”

“No, ‘m too old. Hire a babysitter.”

“You’re full of it ‘n you know it.”

“Brother, a baby is a lot of work. Now, your baby? Even more so.” Joel leveled his brother with a look that silenced any other argument on the matter.’

The moment he realized what you were talking about, his brows flew up into his hairline and he breathed out a hearty chuckle.

“Darlin’, I was just givin’ him a hard time. You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t know you.” You stood up from the couch, body protesting the movement. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you breathed harshly as you tried to tamp down a bout of nausea. “And now that I do, I’m gonna have to consider literally everything on my own and I’m gonna hate how much it hurts to not know you any longer. I wish I-“

“No,” He sighed, brow furrowing before he pinned you with a serious expression. “You do know me now and I wouldn’t turn my back on you, on this. I’m in it, pretty girl, no matter what you decide to do.”

When you whipped away from him, shuddering breaths wracking your sore body, the crack of your voice on a sob spurred him into motion. His arms came around you slowly, giving you the chance to retreat if it wasn’t something you wanted. But you let him, the feel of his chest warm and soothing on your aching back. The push of his soft stomach comforting. His chin hooked over a shoulder, and he spoke in such a somber tone.

“Darlin’, I always thought I was too old to do this again. But I haven’t crossed fifty quite yet and the thought of you carrying my child, of loving me and my child. God, I would give anything for it to be our future. To see you blossom into yourself more, to show our baby the same devotion you give to everything in your life, you deserve somewhere to put all your love.”

One of his hands moved over the one you had on your middle. Holding you so secure, holding you both so secure.

“Joel…it’s a lot. It’s….we’re not even-“ You turned in his arms, facing him. His beautiful, open expression so full of love and adoration, all of it for you. Your heart melted in your chest, dripping low to flutter in your stomach. You weren’t even overtly religious, left over from the trauma of your childhood. Of being forced to attend mass and important holidays alongside your grandparents. The denial of your father never urging you to seek out a higher power in replacement. But the thought of technically being single and going through something like this. It made you afraid.

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer. Got it the day of our first do over date. ‘s why I was so close to the campus. It’s yours. I’m yours. This could be yours. But only if you want it.” Joel’s forehead lightly thumped against yours as he pressed in close. His breath a warm wash over your face, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

Looking between each of his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitancy from him it was quiet. When you didn’t find any, you felt a smile pull at your lips as you nodded your head in affirmation. Wet laughter bubbling up as his lips pressed to yours, a smile of his own for you to feel on them.

“But I still expect you to propose, can’t skip any steps with me. I know you think you’re hot shit with being crowned the city’s most prolific chef of the year but I swear to-“

He cut you off with another kiss, his moustache ticking your upper lip as he nipped at your bottom one.

“I don’t wanna miss any steps with ya, darlin’. I’m here for ‘em all.”

It was hard to ignore the stirring of other feelings in your body, drowning out the aches and pains. But when realization hit you, you pulled back with wide eyes.

“We’re gonna have to stop drinking and smoking!”

“We?”

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @76bookworm76 @hiddenbabynyc @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @sarap-77 @honeyedmiller @undercoverpena

[lovelaetter]

read a fic recently that just made me think about blackmailing nayeon and wanted to know what you though 👀 keep thinking about telling her if she doesnt accept your terms that youll go after tzuyu or dahyun next and when she does accept to save her members jist finger fucking her with tzuyu there touching herself cause youve already corrupted her and just breaking her

CW: BLACKMAIL, DUBCON, i think this is pretty fucked up? i mean, psychologically speaking, so, if you’re not okay with gaslighting/manipulation, read at your own risk.

although i do love the thing about tzuyu being the first and witnessing nayeon going through the same i just can’t help but think about blackmailing them back to back and messing with them both at the same time? maybe something tzuyu related, a photo, video, as nay would do anything to protect her :(

cornering nayeon one day and showing her the content, the cliché “wouldn’t be funny if everyone saw this?” while laughing and she’s so quick to jump into and beg you to not do that, tzuyu doesn’t deserve that. her blindly agreeing with you when you ask if she would do anything to help her friend, not realizing the implications, and one thing just leads to another. so reluctant at first, stopping your hands, looking at you with big eyes and “you promise you won’t do that if i let you…?” and you play the nice cards, saying that yes and that you would never break a promise but that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to… but she knows what that will mean to her friend reputation.

touching her right there where you are, not caring if someone sees it, and she really tries hard to not enjoy it but it’s like you make sure she does, starting so slow, touching her over her clothes, lips on her neck, gently fondling her tits, so much teasing to the point she’s dragging your hand down to her pussy herself, whining pathetically when you point out her soaked underwear :( it’s so nice, your fingers fit so perfectly inside her, all that’s happening is terrifying but it feels so good she completely forgets about the purpose of it, just focus on your words and your touch.

you leave and the poor thing thinks it’s an one time thing, you fuck her and go, but the next day you show up at her house asking, more like demanding, for more and what is she supposed to do? you keep reminding her of what you have in hands. as the days pass by you get rougher and rougher tho, what was once harmless fingering and some pussy eating turning into slaps and holding her face down on the mattress while pounding her from behind, riding her face, lots of degradation included as you insist in saying she’s slut and probably likes what you’re doing to her, she probably doesn’t even care that much about tzuyu anymore and all she does is cry and whimper because you’re right, at this point she thinks about you all day and can’t wait for the next time you’ll use her! and she can’t even look tzuyu in the eyes anymore, it just feels awful, that she chose to be fucked for the sake of protecting her instead of telling her what you’re doing… and it’s weird because the younger starts acting just as weirder towards her too, ignoring her and giving her disgusting and disappointed looks and when she mentions it to you you get so angry and threatens her too, asking if she told tzuyu anything and she gets so desperate it’s— it’s so confusing.

unbeknownst to her, there’s the second part of your plan going on at same time, which is honestly, even worse than what you’re doing to her. visiting tzuyu on the same day of your first time with nayeon, sitting down with her and playing the good friend, saying you need to tell her something because you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t and just showing her the picture/video you have of her, watching as she starts shaking and crying and asking how did you get that and here comes the big surprise… you tell her nayeon sent it to you and that she plans on sending it to everyone :( and you even have proof that it was her, showing her a video you recorded from your earlier conversation that it’s taken completely out of context and makes it seems like all you’re saying is the truth!! and how is tzuyu supposed to not believe you? there’s proof, you’ve always been such a good friend, for years, you would never lie to her… right?

and so it begins, part of your days you fuck nayeon like there’s no tomorrow and the others you take tzuyu in your arms and reassure her it’s okay, everything it’s gonna be okay, she can trust you and you’ll solve things for her! and you don’t even need to blackmail her into giving herself to you as your nights together turn into shushing her crying to cuddling to making out and eventually to sex and dating, she just grows attached to you… i mean, you’re so nice, she’s even a little embarrassed of how fast her feelings evolved. she freely chooses to undress for you and let you touch her, so pretty, muttering “thank you” repeatedly while going up and down, creaming all over your strap, and you being the manipulative ass you are, saying you will never, ever, let something bad happen to her :( like, she has no idea… and you can totally corrupt her because deep down she has this desire to please you as a form of thanking you so she accepts everything, it’s consensual, but there are things she wouldn’t accept with other people in other situations.

so yeah, she distances herself from nayeon disappointed and disgusted and you always make sure to ask her “did she bother you today, love?” and the answer is always no, obviously, but she thinks it’s because you’ve talked to her and put her in place or whatever… they just have no idea you’re messing with them both.

the end to this situation is pretty… open, i think, but i like to imagine that you stop using nayeon as soon as you fuck tzuyu and starts dating her, because again, you would never, ever hurt your babygirl, and that includes cheating, and she’s hurt for real, going after you, but again you manage to twist the situation, making her believe it was her who begged to be fucked.

[xylianasblog]

Is it a secret?

Pairings: AgedUp! Loak x Fem!Metkayina Reader

Warnings: MDNI, handjob, sub! Loak, soft switch reader, praises, slight overstimulation.

♥ 18+ ♥ no minors! ♥ 18+ ♥ no minors! ♥18+ ♥ no minors! ♥ 18+ ♥

You sat with Loak, your back pressed against a rock while he was laid out on the ground beside you. “What do you think? I mean surely she likes you right?” Your voice broke through the serene silence.

While staring out into the sea, you watched as the waves lapped over one another. Your focus was pulled away from the water and to the blue hand that was placed onto the turquoise skin of your thigh. You were confused momentarily, brow-bones pinched together in question. A question you didn’t dare ask, for now it was complete silence and it made you squirm a little, the uncertainty of it all was unnerving. You thought he was blatantly ignoring you, until his smooth voice broke the once again quiet area. “She’s pretty but I don’t think I like her like that.”

“What do you mean? You literally spend all your free time with her..”

Instead of answering he gave a small shrug, his calloused hand moving to a new place behind his head. Lying back to stare at the stars, you watched him silently contemplating the unholy thoughts in your head.

“Loak.” You whispered softly as you leaned forward, hands moved to rub along the inside of his thighs.

You felt and watched his body tense up before relaxing, his eyes pulled away from the sky now focused on you in anticipation. You tilted your head to the side as you continued to rub his thigh, your hand slowly moving up higher and higher until you brushed along the bulge in his loincloth.

“If you don’t like her then who do you like?”

He was quiet for a moment, his breathing grew heavy as he squirmed around. He looked away from you as his hips wiggled around trying to move towards your hand, silently begging you to touch his cock. You did anything but that as you moved your hand over his thighs and stomach, your feather like touches making him whimper quietly.

Your hand brushing along his covered cock once more had his hips bucking up as his head fell back, he whined loudly. “Y/n.. please.. please touch me.. need to feel your hand.. mmm please please.” He begged through his whines.

Giving in you undid his loincloth and tossed it off to the side, your eyes traveled over his thick long length. You basked in the view of it as you climb into his thighs, settling down to help keep him in place as you wrap your hand around his cock. He tried to buck his hips up against your hand, trying and failing to fuck himself into your enclosed hand. but he couldn’t due to the weight of you on his thighs, he whined softly as he covers his eyes. Hiding away his embarrassment as he laid out beneath you.

Slowly you move your hand up and down twisting your wrist with each movement, his soft moans grew louder and needier as you took your time pleasuring him. You watched the way his ears flattened against his head, and his lips parted from his cries. You felt his tail coiling itself around your tail, and you smiled sweetly at the beautiful boy writhing in pleasure underneath you.

“G-gonna.. baby please.. n-n-need to.. m’gonna.. please..” he whined out, begging you for that release that he was craving so badly.

You didn’t answer as you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out after letting the drool pool at the tip, you watched as it dribbled down onto his weeping tip. Using a mix of your salvia and his precum, you moved your faster coating his entire length. He cried out loudly hips jerking wildly as he came without warning. His seed squirting out in ropes, covering his own stomach and your hand.

“Good boy so pretty coming for me.” Your hand kept moving however, you enjoyed watching his bodu writhe pleasure from the overstimulation. His cock twitching in your hand before you finally released him.

“So.. you gonna tell me who it is..?” You asked after a moment only to be pushed off by him, this caused you to laugh as you moved to lay beside him. Placing a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering a soft. “I like you too pretty boy.”

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamsoare @hiddensnow1 @criticallybella @sunfyresrider @neteyamsyawntu @cinetrix @tiredmamaissy @headsincloud9 @etherialblackrose @strongheartneteyam @blue-slxt @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @justcaptiannoodles

[trans-queen-administrator]

Taylor being paranoid about her passenger is such a fun character trait. Like none of her friends really seemed to give much of a shit when they learned about passengers from Bonesaw, but Taylor consistently notes the times her passenger acted without her consent, she tries to talk with it, communicate with it, just anything to learn what this thing that can control her without her say wants with her. One of my favorite little details is that during the timeskip this was the focus of a lot of her therapy sessions with Yamada, trying methods like hypnosis to communicate. I think part of it is that she's inherently just paranoid about the fact that this thing is helping her sometimes and she doesn't know why and she HAS to figure it out because no one would help out of the kindness of their heart, and another part is just that she can't bear to not be in control and this is something that threatens that in a very ominous way.

Another aspect of her paranoia towards her passenger is that she doesn't want to take blame for her own actions I think. During the Behemoth fight when her ally tried to shoot Phil Sē, she pulled the gun off target with silk and got him killed. She's the one who pulled the string, but because she's genuinely unsure if it was her being wary or her passenger setting up the string she settles on the second option because it absolves her of the possible blame or need to admit she's paranoid and ready to betray people in an instance. When Glenn shows her the video of her being the most terrifying fucker in existence she ignores how horrifying she is and fixated on how her passenger moved her, and then she doesn't have to think about the fact that she'd fit right into the ranks of the Slaughterhouse Nine because well, she can blame her passenger and focus on that instead. This applies to other people too, she sees Lung not using his power and thinks that maybe he's concerned about his passenger like she is. She projects hard onto Sophia in my opinion when she says that she got violent because of her passenger. If this person she doesn't like isn't to blame for everything she inflicted on Taylor, the surely Taylor can't be blamed for the violent steps she took to take over a city. It's another way she rationalizes everything to herself, if something is so bad that she can't justify it immediately there's always the excuse of "my passenger made me do it." But crucially, Taylor ends up being aware of the fact that she's doing this during Gold Morning.

And I think it's really good that this is something she grows and accepts about herself. It's wonderful growth for a character who's so often too stubborn to move herself forward. She's generally more in touch with her passenger during Gold Morning, like the time when she thinks that her and her passenger were in agreement in wanting to hurt Scion on the oil rig. No one else in Worm really seems to accept their passengers, Riley is questioning how much of herself has been subsumed by it, Eidolon is always annoyed it doesn't give what he wants, and most other people don't even know about them. But Taylor forms a bit of a symbiosis with hers after a long time rejecting it at every turn. I think this quote really sums up her feelings towards the end.

And by towards the end I mean like, at the very end, because immediately after this thought she becomes Khepri, and yet another fucking theme and character trait cumulates and reaches its peak with Speck. God damn what a good arc. The blur between Taylor and her passenger that she always feared is finally an actual thing consuming her, and she can finally communicate with her passenger as well. I do wonder what this is like on her passengers end. It's clearly down for the idea of killing its maker, and it's heavily implied that her passenger does care and doesn't want to actually leave Taylor as a husk (too lazy to get the quote because I've been typing for 45 minutes but Contessa remarks upon the administrator claiming everything about her until there's nothing left and she feels fear that she thinks is from both her and her passenger. 30.7 I think, near the end). But there's still so much about Taylor's passenger that's unknown. Was communication something it may have wanted when Taylor kept trying to communicate, but doing so required punching holes in the connection that would lead to more bleed through and functionally destroy its host? Did it slowly grow to care for Taylor more than the cycle, or was it always wanting to fight Scion? Did Taylor's autistic swag convince a multidimensional alien made of crystal to rebel? Is Queen Administrator trans? Idk how to end this post if it's not obvious, sorry.

[babyvixen27]

Stranger Danger / PART 2 18+ minor DNI

Incel Neil! x Bimbo Reader!

One too many drinks fill your pretty head, leaving no room for rational thought and Neil is there to pick up the slack .

Warnings: NONCON/DUBCON, DARK CONTENT! Misogynistic language and behaviour, hateful, face slapping, dacryphilia, non con deepthroat, degradation, GRAPHIC, straight up bullying lol Neil x reader.

May do a third part? If anyone's interested 🤍

“Shh it’s alright baby” Neil laughed, “We’re just gonna have a little fun.” 

For another half second, your eyes watched him move toward you, vaguely picturing those discovery channel documentaries where the predator stalks its prey before launching. Another heavy footstep sent your body into autopilot, sprinting to the back door. However, the room seemed to move with you, and by the time you locked in on the handle, a rough handful of your hair sent you tumbling back onto the floor. The impact knocked the wind out of you with a heavy grunt and Neil took the momentary daze to straddle your hips, pinning your wrists over your head. 

You struggled for a bit, tears flowing endlessly, leaving mascara tracks down your puffy cheeks. “Le’me go you fucking perv’” you cried, you didn’t understand why he was doing this, you barely even remembered the car ride. “Don’ act like you don’t like it” He spit, nails digging into the soft skin of your wrists. “Walking around like this…” one of his hands took both of yours while the other trailed its way down your neck and chest. “Don’ act like this isn’t exactly what’ya want. A good mean hard fuck to put ya sleep”. 

His breath trembled when he pulled the neckline of your dress and your tits bounced out. For a second he only gawked down at you, now that is a good pair of tits. You were nothing like the occasional hookup he indulged in, more like the girls he jerked off to every night, eyes widening impossibly more when his hand reached up to cup one and a pathetic whimper spilled from your plush lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.” He breathed, as you thrashed under him, squealing when he pinched your nipple painfully. “Please don’t hurt me, please I'm sorry! Do you want money? I’ll do anything” you begged frantically, watching in horror as he dipped down to take your nipple into his mouth, feeling the vibrations of the low groan he let out when his eyes rolled back and he gave a hard suck. 

You sobbed, turning your head to avoid the terrible yet erotic sight. You wished you could turn off your senses entirely, trying to ignore his high-pitched whines and grinding on your hip. Neil was in heaven, he could suck on your tits forever but after a couple minutes decided that he wanted to put them to good use instead . Ignoring your cries and pleading, he crawled back up your body, sitting on your chest so that his crotch was resting in the valley of your breasts. “-what are you doing?” You mumbled, lip trembling as the sound of a zipper by your face had your eyes dropping from his cold grin to his zipper. 

“What do you think stupid girl?” He snickered, “do I have to go step by step with you for everything?” Rolling his eyes, he hissed when the cold air hit his dick, it was painfully hard and the heat of it was uncomfortable when it slapped down on your chest. “You’re gonna get my dick nice and wet and then i’m going to fuck these fat tits” 

Immediately, you began to shake your head, newfound strength pushing you to create distance. However, the alcohol running through your veins weighed you down more than he did, and a sharp slap to your cheek made your head jerk to the side, making you see stars.". Neil’s big hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to meet his. He was inches away from you, and your breaths intermingled as your eyes regained focus." He was so slanky, you thought, you never imagined a guy like him had this in him. Or maybe you just never noticed, living in the perfect bubble curated for you your whole life. Such pretty eyes, plump lips, warm brown curls tucked behind his ears in an awkward cut and a Super Mario T-shirt… you almost giggled out loud when your foggy brain concluded he kind of looked like a girl. 

“Who are you? Why’re you doing this?” You slurred, feeling his lips ghost over yours. “I’m just your uber driver and I'm getting my payment for getting you home safe” He mocked, connecting his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss. You froze, until a warning squeeze around your neck had you trying to match his rhythm. He was eager, sloppy, all too difficult to keep up with. Eventually, you just let your lips part for a wet open mouthed kiss. Your tongue gliding along his, his heavy groans filling the space between sticky smacks and the dirtiness of it all made your cheeks heat up. 

He pulled away, both of you catching your breaths, lips slick and puffy. Neil moved to mouth at your neck, licking a long stripe up to your ear and though the tears never stopped, you felt a familiar pulse between your thighs. It made you feel disgusting, how could you enjoy something so awful? You almost wished it was painful, or inexperienced or even just for him to be ugly! but a hard suck on a little sweet spot pulled a squeal from you. “I hate sluts like you” he murmured, straightening up and adjusting so that his cock sat on your cheek, slapping it against your lips. “Open up”. Shaking your head, you begged “please-” and Neil took the opportunity to push past your parted lips. “No teeth or I’ll ream your little ass, you hear me?” He threatened, though it comes out stuttered when he looks down and gets a good look at your messy face.

You immediately start to panic but the small rational part of your brain urges you to force it down. You’ve done this countless times, taken much bigger, and so you relax your throat and let the head of his dick slide in.

“Fuck!” his hands fling to either side of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair as his whole length disappears down your throat. For a second, he has to shut his eyes, breathing heavy so as to not cum too soon and spoil the fun. He’s so deep, position leaving no room to actually pound so he settles for humping your face tight, throat glucking with every movement. “Look s’ pretty like this” He pants, staring down at you, giving you a small slap when you try to close your eyes. It was torture, having to keep eye contact with him, watching his features contort from the pleasure he was taking from your body. 

When he was satisfied he jerked back, a thick glob of drool connecting your tongue to the tip of his dick before he scooped it up and moved back down to your tits. He positioned himself between them, grabbing one in each hand and pushing them together to engulf him before he began thrusting. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, stick your fucking tongue out and look at m- yeah thats it, good- FUCK” Neil could barely get his thoughts in order, here you were, a girl so desperately out of his league his entire life, at his mercy. 

You had stopped crying, body limp in a trance while you waited for it to end. He would cum and leave and you would shower and go to bed and tomorrow would be a new day. “Oh my god you’re gonna make m’cum bitch” He warned, panting with each thrust, until his hips stilled with a long whine and you felt hot spurts of cum paint your chest, trailing down your collar bones and landing on your tongue and cheek. 

It was over, a wave of relief running over you. He got what he wanted.

..Maybe it was your fault for showing your relief so openly but when Neil’s breath finally settled and you noticed that his cock wasn’t softening, his cruel laugh sent chills down your spine.

 “You didn’t think  I was done did you? We haven't even made it to the bed yet”.

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 1

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit’s Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: Descriptions of a panic attack, vague angst, Nick is kind of a dick (but we love him anyway!)

*Content warnings will be updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.2K

Taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @circle-with-me / @darksigns-exe / @xxrainstorm / @monotoniscreaming / @agravemisstake / @iknownothingpeople

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!

Author’s Note: Thank you @darksigns-exe for planting this seed, thank you @ladyveronikawrites for the beta, thank you @concretenoah and @circle-with-me for allowing me to talk about this shit constantly. This series, to me, is a big bad scary thing. I’ve been mulling it for a while. Feedback is appreciated but please be gentle with me 🤍

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

“Tuesdays are our worst nights. We don’t even have a stage.”

When Jolly had floated the idea of an open mic night 2 weeks ago, Nick had thought it was a joke. Open mic night, sure, perfect idea for a Tuesday night in an almost-failing dive.

Bud thinks it’s a good idea, he’d said. Bud hasn’t been into the bar on a Tuesday in months, hasn’t shown up at all in almost as long. He has no idea what a ghost town this place can be—always is on Tuesday nights. Nick had agreed, but he was clearly being funny. Can no one sense his tone anymore?

“We moved some tables. It’ll be fine,” Jolly says, and Nick just has to laugh. Moved some tables. “Not so empty tonight, is it? Look around you, Nicholas, we’re full. Gavin’s turning people away at the door.”

He can’t imagine why anyone is being turned away—in front of him, he only sees mostly empty bar stools and a couple of unoccupied tables. A little busier than their typical Tuesday night, sure, but he’s still not impressed.

“Gavin’s a fucking idiot.” Nick says, shaking his head, resigning himself to the idiocy that is this night. “These fucks better tip cash or I’ll deck someone.”

He doesn’t know how many more Alanis Morrissette covers he can handle. The spoken word is worse. The Bob Dylan impersonator was unbearably painful. The recorder felt a little bit like a joke, and if it was, it was his favorite performance of the night.

He hates open mic nights. He took the job here 8 years ago specifically because it’s the exact type of dump that doesn’t buy into this shit. He hates it when he’s proven wrong. He’ll demand he be able to pre-screen everyone for next week, if god forbid Jolly allows this to continue.

He does have to admit the tips have been good—he may even be able to fill his tank—but when Folio comes out of the back with a glass full of offending green leaves, Nick has to take a deep breath to keep himself from losing his mind.

More changes. More tiny, stupid changes that won’t do anything to actually improve the direction that this bar is heading. All of Nick’s perfectly-reasonable suggestions have gone ignored, but sure, mint will revive the place.

“What are you doing with mint?” Nick scoffs, and Folio has the nerve to laugh at him.

“Jolly said that Bud wants us to be able to make mojitos. The new crowd brought in by the open mic night might want them.” 

“This is a dive bar. I’m not making mojitos.”

“No one even orders—”

Nick’s attention is taken elsewhere when a soft-looking, long-haired, too-tall, pretty-faced boy with a guitar shows up on the stage. Rather, the special spot of the floor where tables used to be.

Nick’s first thought is that he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s off-put by the buzzy feeling in his tummy about it and pushes it away. He can’t focus on that. When the boy introduces himself, painfully earnest, Nick is too zoned out to catch a name. Instead, he’s focused on the way his pretty lips move dangerously close to the microphone. 

The first chords played take him out of his thoughts.

The melody bubbles up a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. 706 days, not that he’s counting. When he starts singing, Nick’s stomach drops and his head spins.

Traveling, swallowing, dramamine—

He’ll be sick. He can’t see anything. He can’t breathe.

“Folio, watch the bar. I’ll be—” Nick starts to storm off, “—just watch it for me, okay?” he yells, not bothering to wait for an affirmative or consider the fact that Folio couldn’t make more than a Jack and Coke if he tried. He has to get the fuck out of here.

He slams through the front door to see Gavin in front of a short line of people, flirting with a girl who can’t be 21 years old. He should have gone out back, but he can’t bring himself to even scoff, taking a hard left and slipping into an alleyway.

His legs give out beneath him—he slumps against the brick wall, hard against his back. He can’t catch his breath and his vision is blacking. 

He can still hear the song playing through the walls, cursing the fact that of course the better sound system last year was Nick’s one suggestion that actually went through. He closes his eyes and he sees hers. The only thing he can focus on as he gasps for air is keeping his eyes open.

He remembers what that useless therapist told him about breathing into a paper bag. He thinks now that it sounds ridiculous, but he’s going to lose consciousness and he has a $20 in his wallet that he really can’t afford to lose.

He finds a nasty, grease-soaked bag on the ground by his feet. He pushes thoughts away of any diseases he could contract when he closes the opening around his nose and mouth. Normal breathing. In, out. Thank god the music has stopped. In, out, in, out. 12 breaths. He feels foolish, but a little less like he’s going to die on the ground of this alley tonight, and his vision is clearing.

He sits for a moment and really laments the fact that he can’t go back in there. He can’t go back in there and pretend he wasn’t breathing in someone else’s old burger on the wet ground of an alleyway, but Folio can’t make a drink and he needs those tips.

“You okay, man?” Folio asks, clapping him on the back when Nick sneaks back in behind the bar. 

Every once in a while, the sunshiny persona of the barback Nick never asked for nor needed almost has the ability to bring a smile to his face, but right now it takes all his might to not cringe away from the touch.

“All good, Folio, thanks.”

He shifts his eyes to see Jolly putting the mic stand away, moving tables back, and table after table of unfamiliar faces leaving the bar. No more tips tonight, but he’s grateful for the impending peace and quiet of a now normal Tuesday night at The Rabbit’s Foot.

He sees the singer approaching the bar and he finds it difficult to make eye contact. 

“ID,” Nick says, without so much as a hello. He can tell he’s old enough but he wishes he’d caught his name, and this way he doesn’t have to ask. Noah Sebastian Davis, he reads. Brown eyes. 6’3”. 1995. Too pretty. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I have a mojito?” Noah asks, cringing when Nick barely tries and ultimately fails to hide his scoff.

“No mint,” he says, but Noah points to the little container Folio had brought out earlier. Nick picks up the dish, handing it off to Folio. “Little prank. It’s spinach.”

Noah narrows his eyes. Too pretty.

“I’m not making you a mojito, pretty boy. It’s after 11, you can have a beer. Cash only.”

Noah rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. It’s a little too toothy and it makes Nick’s stomach swoop. “I have cash. Yuengling is fine.”

“That I can do,” Nick says, pushing away the butterflies when he hands the bottle off and their fingers touch.

[sinfulsalutations]

*slides $500 in Monopoly money over*

Got any sub!Hunter and Dom!femreader smut in the back?

(you can ignore this if your requests are closed, I'm not sure if they're open right now)

⋆ ★ *ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʟɪᴅᴇꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ* ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ? ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ᴍʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟʟʏ ɪ’ᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴇɴᴛɪᴄɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴇ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Hunter is a keen lover who's always in tune with both his senses and yours, due to his heightened senses but also his natural instinct as a leader.

But when he finds himself in a rather submissive mind space, eagerly ready for you to take the lead, he lets those senses swallow him.

He still has his subconscious checking in to make sure it isn't too much, and if it ever is he'll tell you exactly that, but for the most part, he's letting all the sensations overtake him in the most pleasant way possible.

Speaking of his senses, depriving him of one thrills him in a way he can't explain. Blindfolding or tying him up forces him to solely focus on one sense at a time, amping it up to another level.

Enjoys it when you urge him on to do certain things; "Squeeze my hips. Yeah, just like that. Good." "Look up. Let me look into those gorgeous eyes. There he is." It genuinely makes him crumble in your grasp immediately.

Additionally, he'd never say this out loud (both because he doesn't know how to express it and because he hasn't truly realized it), but he likes soft pampering. Kisses along his jaw, massaging his shoulders as you grind on him, anything that makes him sigh and flutter his lashes. For once, it feels nice to just sit back and be doted on.

That doesn't mean he dislikes it when you fully take control, pin his hands over his head, bounce yourself up and down his cock, and rumble out filthy words into his ear. Tell him to just sit there and take it, be a good boy for you, and his chest is heaving.

You swear you've never seen him choke and stammer so much than when you take his cock in your mouth. He's a mess the moment you slip his blacks off and look up at him with that mischievous grin. You keep his hands away from your hair or body and instead urge him to place them over his head or grip onto the sheets-- "Let me have my fun, Hunter."

Edging is a dangerous game with Hunter. If he isn't in the right mind space or physical capacity, it could lead to a sensory overload and he'll have to tap out. But if it works does it work. You have to urge him to keep his thighs and hips from twitching and bucking up into you when you pepper kitten licks over his length and run the tops of your fingers over his balls. You'll never hear him more depraved than when he gasps out "Mesh'la, I'm so-- fuck, please--"

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