#ows me their head on a fucking spike

[maxellminidisc]

Just went down a rabbit hole so sickeningly and evil-y white whilst blocking and I genuinely feel sick and murderous

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part thirteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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[ju1cyfru1t]

rottmnt x reader || S/O who bites (out of love and affection obvi)

Rise! Donnie, Raph, Mikey, Leo x Reader (separately)

fluff? :D, gn reader, romantic (established relationship), BITING mmmm, mild swearing

Donnie

- the first time you bite him, he jumps and lets out a loud yelp, “ah! ow! what in the name of-“ then just stares at you in disbelief. absolutely incredulous. and has to take a while to process. why? why- HOW could you do this to him? after all he’s done for you?

- don’t play with him he HAS and WILL bite you back and NOT in a loving way

- he is ALWAYS on his guard

- you go in for a hug? you lean in to kiss him? you turn your head ever so slightly in his direction? his whole body tenses up. you’re giving this boy trust issues. he will physically, STILL GENTLY, push you away with his mechanical spider arm thingies…heaven forbid you bite those too….

- “Do. NOT. Bite me. Y/N.” “…”

- ^— “DO NOT. This is your last warning.”

- “Yes, Y/N. You’re very ferocious and vicious. Now STOP biting me.”

- “Sigh. That is NOT affection, Y/N.”

- “AH! Don’t bite me while I’m working, please…Don’t bite me ever!”

- “If you want to ‘show affection,’ you could just…I don’t know, hug me? or hold my hand? the biting is unnecessary.”

- NOT a fan of the biting at ALL

Raph

- The first time you bite him, “AHH!” he is confused. he does not understand. are you trying to attack him??? do you wanna throw hands??? what did he do to deserve that??? he does not want to throw hands with you

- he really does not see how biting is supposed to be showing your affection but whatever you say 😭

- his skin is pretty thick and rough. I mean you’d really have to sink your teeth in to hurt him so he just lets you. it actually lowkey tickles to him.

- “Careful. Ya don’t wanna bite my spikes.”

- it’s definitely not his favorite thing in the world but he doesn’t mind terribly if it really makes you happy and as long as it’s just you trying to show him love

- chooses to just take it as a sign that you want attention and/or some kind of affection

- would never bite you back tho

- however, I don’t suggest catching him off guard with a nibble cause he might start swingin 🤺 and would feel absolutely horrible abt it

Mikey

- the first time you bite him he’s offended. you’re gonna bite HIM? 🤨 yeah, ok buddy. he just squeaks in surprise and rubs where you bit him, looking at you like ‘😟’ before biting you back. he is taking it personally until you tell him you’re just showing affection cuz you love him soooooo much

- he’s perfectly ok with it then as long as you don’t bite him too hard

- LOVES to give and receive affection anyways so he makes it really easy to bite him when he’s clinging onto you all the time

- always giggles and squirms when you bite him

- returns your bites with kisses all over your face

Leo

- the fucking most dramatic ever

- the first time you bite him he acts like you just shot him

- “OWW!! OWIE! Ugh! Y/N! How COULD you?! BETRAYAL” while gripping where you bit his shoulder and whining like a toddler even though it did not hurt at all and you didn’t leave any sort of mark whatsoever.

- ^ drops the act completely when you tell him it was out of love

- now every time you do it he thinks you’re trying to flirt with him 🤞😔 and I mean I guess he’s sort of-ish right

- honestly he doesn’t really care but definitely teases you about it /ns

- “yeah? do I taste good, Y/N?” /ns!!

- “ow! ok, ok! not too hard!” while giggling

- “mhm…now kiss it better.” makes you kiss where you bit him every time.

——————————————————————————

now I know I ain’t the only one who bites like that 🤨

[maxlarens]

lando + 18 😛

18) squishing the other’s cheek

You can feel the beat of the music in your veins like another heartbeat as Lando drags you through the packed crowd. He's got a grip on your hand like someone's about to tear you away from him, or the crowd is going to swallow you whole. Which doesn't seem likely to happen, given the force with which you're also holding his hand.

He looks back at you, teeth worrying away at his lip, like you might have been replaced by someone else without letting go of him.

"What's wrong?", you shout, getting closer to him so he can hear you over the ditz ditz of the music and the cacophony of voices in the club.

He shakes his head, keeps dragging you, heading in the direction of the bar. He's moving fast and you're stumbling along a bit, spilling the drink you've got in your other hand. You're four or so drinks deep so your balance and coordination isn't as good as you'd like it to be.

"Lando," you shout again, "Slow down. I'm spilling my drink everywhere."

He stops, so suddenly and with so little warning that you thump right into the back of him. Your face hits his spine, you feel cartilage crunching as your nose goes numb and tears involuntarily spring to your eyes.

Fucking ow.

"What the fuck," you're saying as he blurts out,

"You still have that drink?", frantic, panicked in a way you don't hear from him often, "Have you drank any? Tell me if you've had any?"

You've got your hand on the bridge of your nose, trying to quell the tingling feeling spreading through it and hoping it doesn't start bleeding. You frown, meeting your friend's concerned, almost angry expression with an equally as confused one.

"Lando. What are you talking about?"

"Have you had any?"

You shake your head adamantly, something a little sick, a little worried starting to creep into the pit of your stomach, "No. No, I haven't. Why?"

He releases a ragged breath that has his shoulders sagging in relief, but sets your heart rate spiking. You shake your head less in frustration, more because you're not quite sure what he's trying to tell you. You put your drink down on a nearby table, throw a napkin in it for good measure.

"Lando," you press, grabbing his bicep to keep his attention on you as it keeps drifting off into the crowd while he searches for something, "What's going on?'

He opens his mouth, closes it, then guides you into an out of the way corner, tucked behind a booth. Then he says, "I– there was some weird guy before. Like, leering at you, or whatever. I just thought—”

“—you think he spiked my drink?”, you ask, your heart beating a skittering, nervous rhythm in your chest.

Lando nods, lips pursed into a thin line.

“He’s gone now,” he reassures you, “I think. I can’t see him anywhere.”

Your chest feels tight with something— with many somethings. Fear, relief, panic, gratitude. You’ve been introduced to a problem and then had it resolved all in a very quick span of time. Your brain is still playing catch up. There’s music thudding in your ears, Lando’s looking at you like you might turn to dust right in front of him, your nose hurts, your head is spinning from the alcohol, your skin is prickling from the stare of a man who you hope isn’t there anymore.

It’s too much. So you gather it all up in a ball and you throw it away. You take a half step forward and squeeze Lando into the biggest hug you can manage. A little overwhelmed by your affection for him, but unable to throw that away so readily.

You’ve pinned the tops of his arms to his side with the force of the hug and you can feel his hands grappling for you, grabbing at your waist as he tries to hug you back. You press your temple into his cheek, your still tender nose into a groove at his collarbone.

“You’re sweet,” you mutter.

Affection for Lando, unbridled and made worse by alcohol, rises into your throat. You groan into his shoulder, squeeze him even tighter.

“Christ,” he squeaks out a nervous laugh.

You reel back, letting him loose of the crushing hug and sliding your hands to grip his shoulders. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. A strangled noise slips from your mouth, eliciting a raise of Lando’s eyebrows while you reach up to squish his cheeks in between your hands.

“Oh, fuck off,” he groans, but it comes out muffled and incomprehensible as he swats at your hands— not making any real attempt at trying to push them away.

He’s trying not to smile at you, but his toothy little grin punches through chubby cheeks regardless.

“So cute,” you laugh.

His cheeks grow warm under your hands. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, tugging you away.

“I was worried,” he sighs, “And don’t call me cute.”

“I know,” you bite down on a grin, “Thank you Lan, really.”

His tongue moves to worry at his incisor, he’s fighting the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Intentionally not looking at you.

“Don’t call me cute,” he says again, tipping his head back and exposing the line of his neck so he doesn’t have to look you in the eye.

You snort indelicately, then coo, reaching out to pinch his face, “Aw, is that too much for little Lando Norris?”

“God,” he groans loudly, trying hard to pretend he’s not enjoying whatever this is, “You’re so annoying.”

“You love it, Lando.”

“Fuck off,” but there’s no heat in it, only affection.

[tyunniebbang]

baby, you're teething | p.sh blurb

tw // mentions of blood

(a/n: i wanted to write a little of fluff for hoon but idk what happened at the end... oops)

"come on hoon, it's only been a few hours since you were awake—"

"mmfgh, no, it hurts..." you can hear sunghoon whining over the muffled noises of him biting your shirt, gnawing on it like a little child. honestly, he might as well be one since he's been tagging alongside you all day and pulling on your clothing with no care.

ever since a few weeks ago, sunghoon has been constantly grumbling about his teeth hurting — especially his new canines.

not that you were complaining about having a vampire as boyfriend, but it's getting slightly annoying.

you try patting his head away to cue him, but nothing works so you resort to straight up pulling his hair to rip your vampire off you.

and they said vampires were scary and terrifying blood suckers..?

"y/n, pleaseee just this once it hurts so fucking bad and- OW!" he returns you a glare, squishing his right cheek like a toothache. coming home every night to a hyperactive boy, handling his mood swings whenever a new wave of pain spikes him... plainly said, it's horrible. you would have never expected the cold prince to be this cute.

"come on, your poor boyfriend is in pain, he's a newborn, and he just turned. just let me bite you, please baby!"

he's teething, and both of you were equally aware of this phase when he first turned. a newly born vampire starts to develop their canines for a few weeks, just like how a human child would with their milk teeth.

admittedly, he looks incredibly hot with a pair of sharp teeth, especially when the man unknowingly smirks and flashes those white gold.

scratch that, because Incredibly Hot Man is trying so hard to scramble for an empty piece of your neck right now. he has crawled up your body and placed firm grips on your shoulders to nose your collarbone.

his warm breath tendrils down your spine, caressing you. in contrast, you feel his cold sharp canines starting to graze your delicate skin, as he continues to scratch it deeper and deeper into the surface.

"please, just one bite, hm? that's all i want, i'll be so good after that, i won't bother you anymore."

and when he gets the green light from your timid nod, you know he's going all for it as he plunges in for his treat.

(extra scene (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~)

"park sunghoon i'm bleeding take some responsibility please"

"you opened the curtains this morning i almost DIED, what responsibility"

[honeyed-hedonist]

Parings: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 2.2k Summary: You and Jason spend some quality time together on a balmy summer night amongst the flora and fauna. Things quickly heat up, as they so often do when the two of you are together. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. fingering, foul language, Jason being stupidly strong and handsome and hot and hshsaksjfkhf!! A/N: Hi hello! Since my old blog got deleted (I'm still not over it. Ten+ years of work and building up a following gone down the drain), I've decided to start reposting my old stuff here. This one used to be called Sweet Bitter, but I decided to change the name. ENJOY!

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

There’s something about the way the moonlight casts a silvery glow to your eyes, how it turns your dewy skin a pearlescent shade of indigo, that has Jason punch drunk, lips parted in silent awe while he watches you take in the scenery. You look ethereal, a goddess come down from heaven to fill the cracks in his soul with liquid gold until he’s overflowing—and fuck, he’s never been more in love with you than he is right now. 

The midnight air is ripe with honeyed blossoms and earthy moss, a symphony of buzzing cicadas fills the silence as a balmy breeze tousles a few loose strands of your hair around your face. It has him reaching out to tuck them behind your ear, pulling your focus from the lush greenery around you to his glittering blue eyes instead. 

Jason gives you a lazy grin, the kind that makes your stomach flutter, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw before he settles back on his elbows across the blanket and your gaze lifts skyward. You’ve never seen so many stars before—the light pollution in Gotham almost blots out the moon most nights, and you want to commit this view to memory, to remember every twinkling ball of starlight scattered across the charcoal sky.

“How’d you find this place?” You murmur softly, fingers curling around the hem of your sundress, picking at the edge idly.

“Ivy owed me a favor.” Jason answers, laughing when your head whips around to look at him. 

“This is Poison Ivy’s garden?” You hiss, eyebrows knitted together, and he laughs harder, his palm cupping your knee as he gives you a gentle shake. 

“Relax, baby,” he teases, laughter still bubbling up in his throat. It makes his voice a little raspier, a little more gruff, and with it your pulse spikes, because goddamn if little things like that don’t turn you to mush. “There’s nothing poisonous here, I promise.” 

You give him a skeptical look, but it quickly melts away into a smile that makes Jason’s throat tight with emotion. Yeah, he’s in deep, tilting back a swig of his beer in hopes that it’ll hide the heat that’s coloring his cheeks rosy. It doesn’t, your smile turning cheshire when you snatch the bottle from his hands and neck back what’s left. 

His face turns sour, glaring at you while he folds those thick arms across his chest, his t-shirt struggling to contain the sheer mass of him, the cotton stretched to its limit. The sight has your cheeks warming, mouth going dry, because it should be fucking illegal to look like that.  “I was drinking that, brat.” Jason chides, and you answer with a flick of your tongue past your lips, blowing a raspberry at him. 

“Sucks to suck, I guess.” You retort, lifting your eyes back towards the sky, the distraction providing a perfect opportunity for him to wrap those massive hands around your waist and haul you onto his lap. 

It’s no surprise to anyone that Jason is strong, he’s built like a brick shithouse—an absolute unit of a man from head to toe, and yet it still catches you off guard every single time he flaunts that strength. Like all of those early mornings when he’s just gotten home from patrol while you’re getting ready for work and he can’t help but lift you into his arms to fuck you in the shower, or those hazy nights when you’ve both had one too many and he’s got you folded in half against the brick wall of an alley, one hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you make while he turns you inside out with the slow drag of his cock. 

Your reaction is always the same though, an excitable giggle slipping out from behind your teeth as your hands settle on his shoulders, only this time your legs are spread open to accommodate the width of his stocky thighs. You bite your lip, and Jason’s bravado slips, if only for a moment, as his eyes track the movement, blood immediately rushing to his dick and—shit, why the fuck did he wear jeans tonight?

“Wanna say that again?” He goads, cocking his head to the side, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips until you squeal, wriggling around on his lap in an attempt to flee. “Nuh uh, you’re goin’ nowhere, baby.” Jason taunts you, his arms locking around your back, pulling you in until you’re chest to chest. 

It’s a wonder, he thinks, gazing at you through hooded eyes, how he ever manages to keep his hands off of you in the first place, how the two of you even make it out of your bedroom. Someone should give him a goddamn medal or something, because it takes more self control than he’s used to practicing—resisting the urge he has to tear your shit up every minute of every day.

And that’s without mentioning how you look tonight, sprawled out on top of him in that little scrap of fabric you call a sundress, the hem riding up the tops of your buttery thighs, exposing the barest hint of your core, pussy lips peeking out from behind those lacy panties you’re sporting—taunting him, begging for the kind of attention he’s all too happy to supply. 

You let your hands roam, gliding across the tops of his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, fingertips snaking up through his hair, the longer pieces curling in the sticky, nighttime summer heat. “You got that much right, at least.” You tell him, because even though you’re more composed about it, you’re still just as lovesick as he is. 

“Sweet talkin’ me isn’t gonna make me forget your little comment,” Jason muses, palms dragging up the outsides of your thighs until his fingers disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, thumbs rubbing heated circles into the skin, “but I’ll let you make it until we get home.”

A promise for later. 

His hands travel higher still, dipping under the lace stretched thinly at the apex of your thighs. He drags them inward, tugging the sodden material away from your slit, the rough pads of his fingertips tracing the crease where your legs meet your cunt. You keep your eyes fixed on his, hiccuping a soft breath in because you know exactly what he’s thinking when he leans in, nose skimming across your jaw and up until his breath is cooling against the shell of your ear.

“Wore this thing just to torture me, didn’t you? Been flashing me these pretty little panties all night. Think you’re so clever, hm?” You puff out a shaky breath, nodding softly, your hair tickling Jason’s face. “Shame m’gonna ruin ‘em.” His fingers curl and pull, ripping at the delicate lace until it tears apart and he pulls them clean off in one fell swoop, another pair of your underwear now lost to his impatience and show-boating.

Jason lets his tongue trace over your cartilage, teeth nipping at your earlobe until you shiver, a soft whimper forcing its way out of your mouth. “So proud of yourself, aren’t you? Got me all worked up—you and that smart fuckin’ mouth in this tiny fuckin’ dress. Know what m’gonna do now, baby?”

He cups your pussy and gives it a firm squeeze, pleased as punch when his palm is met with the oozing slick of your arousal, free hand trailing up your spine until he’s cradling the back of your head. It almost feels loving, and then he tightens that hand into a fist, tangling your hair as he yanks your head backwards, exposing the column of your throat to his eager mouth. 

Plush lips latch onto your dewy skin until the blood vessels rupture while Jason runs his first two fingers over your slit, spreading you open, groaning at the heat he finds there. He knows exactly what it feels like to be swamped by that heat, wrapped up in molten velvet, and he ruts his hips up into you, cock straining beneath denim, the zipper catching on his sensitive head until he rips himself away to hiss. 

“Gotta get you ready, yeah? Gonna fuck you dumb when we get home, princess. Fill you so full’a my cum that it’ll be leakin’ outta you ‘til tomorrow night.” Your answering moan makes him feral, growling as he hauls your mouth down to meet his in a kiss that’s wet and messy, no desire at all to make it pretty or sweet, and that suits you just fine.

Finally, Jason lets his fingers dredge through your folds, swiping over your clit, down to your hungry little hole, and back up—teasing you, feeling the way your sensitive pearl pulses under his touch. Sucking your tongue into his mouth, he groans, drunk off the taste of you, sweet as honeydew with a hint of bitter from the beer you stole. He hooks two digits inside you, swallowing the sound you make—shell shocked and breathy while he works you open until his palm is flat against your mons. 

He keeps them there, deeply seated, and curls them against your gummy walls while your fingernails dig harshly into the meat of his biceps and you squeal. It’s too much—a sensory overload, barely any effort at all and you’re already wound so fucking tight, amazed by how quickly Jason can make you sprung. “Mhm,” he murmurs against your kiss swollen lips, hazy eyes bouncing between yours, “that’s my girl, lemme hear you. Know it feels good, baby, gonna make it all better just—fuck—just sit still for me, hm?”

Lust-drunk, you nod frantically, whining low in your throat as Jason begins to fuck you with his fingers, opening you up for a third that has you bouncing softly on his lap. Christ, he’s never seen you quite like this—so wild and free, wanton cries of pleasure drowning out the consonance of buzzing from the fireflies that flit through the air around you.

“Jay,” you pant, arching into him, pretty tits perched right in his face, nipples pebbled and peeking through the thin material of your dress, “fuck, s’good. Please—wan’ cum.” He bends forward to tongue at your tits, teeth catching on those perked little nubs, lavishing them with the attention they’re sorely missing. It makes your thighs quiver, his thumb joining in his efforts to shatter you right here and now, flicking tight and hard against your clit.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me, make it nice an’ messy.” He coos, the tone of his voice is almost mocking, but you’re far too lost in your pleasure to care. You’ll worry about what this means for the rest of your night later, right now all you care about is chasing the release that’s rising quickly and you to meet it.

The wet squelch of you pussy is music to Jason’s ears, his forearm burning from his efforts, fucking into you at a brutal pace while your walls flutter deliciously around his fingers. Leaning back a little, he untangles his hand from your hair and grips your jaw hard enough that it pulls your focus and you wince. “Eyes on me, baby.” He commands, desperate to watch the way you crumble for him—only for him.

Your orgasm crests and then crashes, rocketing you into bliss so sharp that you see stars, an imprint of the very same sky you were just gazing at not twenty minutes ago, your entire body quaking as he corrals you by your hip, anchors you flat atop his thighs while he works you through it. He can feel your cum rolling down his wrist, cooing and praising you with sweet words as he kitten licks the sweat gathered above your lips, across your chin, salty and earthy. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. Cum so hard for me, look so goddamn beautiful, princess.” He murmurs, biting at the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet while you ride out the final waves of pleasure, flexing out your fingers from where they were wedged into his arms. 

Jason gives you a moment to breathe, gentle when he slips his fingers free from your swollen, gushy core. Bringing them up to his mouth, his tongue laps at the pearly droplets running down his arm, fingers webbed with your glistening release that he suckles greedily with a lascivious moan. The sound travels straight to your overworked clit, a gentle thrumming already starting up again as he cocks a brow at you and smirks, like he just knows.

“Better get you home, huh? Don’t think Ivy would take too kindly to us defiling her garden more than we already did.” You sock him square on his chest, and he laughs, pulling you close for another kiss that you smile into, cupping his face in your hands.

“Good idea,” You answer, the tip of your nose brushing his. “Apparently I have some apologizing to do. Sensitive little baby Jason Todd can’t handle a little ribbing.” 

His smile widens, not bothering to call you on your jibe. “Damn right you do,” he says, lifting you off of his lap to start gathering your things. When he stands, he offers you his hand, and you slip your fingers between his—still damp from your pussy.  Glancing down at you, Jason runs his tongue over his teeth and grins again, pulling you towards the path that leads out of the garden. “Plus you own me a beer.”

[slayfics]

You leave a party with Katsuki.

Warnings: alcohol, NSFW themes

1.4k words

You let out a sigh as you poured your next drink. The party was fun, but you couldn't deny your own disappointment that a certain someone hadn't shown up.

You haphazardly mixed the tequila on the table with the margarita mixer nearby. Due to being several drinks in, your proportions were off, and you served yourself more tequila than you needed.

You had spent your time at the party catching up with friends and laughing, but in between conversations you unconsciously searched the crowds of bodies hoping you'd find Katsuki there.

It had been a while since you saw him now. You began to think you were foolish for thinking he'd come to the party being as busy of a pro hero as he was now.

Even knowing that your heart rate spiked once Eijiro, Denki, and Hanta walked in. Katsuki's usual crew. You took a sip of your drink remembering how fast your hopes were dashed when Katsuki wasn't with them. The strong taste of liquor splashed over your tongue, and it took everything in you not to gag it out.

What was left of your executive thinking screamed at you to pour more mixer into your drink. But your drunk thoughts were stronger and encouraged you to keep drinking to forget how pathetic it was that your main reason for coming was to see Katsuki again.

You exhaled in disgust at yourself, so pathetic you thought, and took another sip. Bringing the cup back down, you scanned the crowd to see where your next move was going to be when you saw what you thought must be your eyes playing tricks on you.

Katsuki was in the crowd, and he was heading over to you. You blinked hard, sure that he would despair when you reopened your eyes, but the opposite wasn't the case.

Katsuki scanned the table of liquor and mixers, "Not many options here are there?" he remarked on the leftover selection.

"There was earlier but you're fashionably late," you responded, flashing him a teasing smile.

Katsuki grabbed a plastic cup and poured a shot of vodka into it, "Had a late patrol and- wasn't gonna come. But those idiots," Katsuki grunted gesturing to his usual group of friends, "wouldn't take no for an answer... so here I am."

"I don't think I've ever heard someone be so upset to be at a party," You giggled.

"That's obviously a lie because we saw each other at the last party, and I hated that one too. Or were you too drunk to remember?" he asked and took a sip of his drink.

"Hey! I remember just fine! You had to drag Kaminari out because he was throwing up all over the place." You said hitting his arm playfully. Misstepping you momentarily lost your balance, but Katsuki was quick to grab your arm to stabilize you. 

"Tch- if you're not careful you're going to be the one throwing up all over the place," he chuckled. "The hell are you drinking anyway?"

"Here want to try?" You asked him, holding out your drink.

Katsuki grabbed the drink from your hand and took a sip. Immediately his nose scrunched up and he recoiled from the taste. "The fuck!" He exclaimed. "What is the matter with you? This is all tequila," he said, a slight cough escaping him.

"You're being dramatic," You teased. But you knew he was right. You had made the drink way too strong. Katsuki walked over to the sink and dumped the drink out. "Hey!" You exclaimed rushing over to him and trying to grab the cup even though it was too late.

Katsuki held the cup up high to taunt you. You pulled at his arm and stretched your fingers trying to reach for it. "Shit- you are drunk, hu?" he exclaimed laughing at your pursuit to wrestle the cup from him.

Giving up, you dropped your arms and crossed them, as you squinted your eyes at him. "You owe me another drink."

"Fine. I'll make you one that isn't poisoned," he teased and brought the empty cup to the table to re-fill it.

You walked over next to him, watching as he made a drink with moderate liquor. The party lights flashed across his face highlighting his features. It had been so long since you saw Katsuki in person, it was astounding to you all over again how handsome he was. "You know... you don't have to be here," you said, tossing out the slightest hint.

"Hah? I know that. Already told you though- the damn extras made me come," he said turning and holding the finished drink out to you.

"Yeahhhh but~ you hate parties," you spoke pushing your hint even further.

"It's fine- they are bound to be too drunk to stay any moment now anyway so- I don't plan on being here much longer," he said, leaning against the kitchen table.

You took another sip of your drink frustrated at the blond not catching on to your hints. Silently you devised a more straightforward plan.

"How's that one taste? Better than that rat poison you were drinking right?" he asked.

"Hm? What was that?" You said putting your hand to your ear pretending you couldn't hear over the loud music.

Katsuki taking you seriously repeated himself. "How does it taste?" he asked again.

You moved closer to him, "Sorry still didn't catch that, it's really loud in here. Want to go somewhere quieter?" You asked, taking another sip and batting your eyes at him.

Katsuki chuckled, "Are you serious? That's your move?"

"Well, you didn't catch on to my others!" You giggled and moved closer still to him.

"Tch- the answer is no. You're too damn drunk idiot." Katsuki said, but a grin crept onto his face from your invitation. You reached out and grabbed his hand flirtingly playing with his fingers.

"I'm not that drunk," You protested and leaned into him pressing your body into his. He was warm and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in him.

"You can't even look at me straight," he laughed and moved his hand to brush some stray hair strands out of your face.

Sadness washed over your drunken glazed eyes as you looked up at him. Katsuki couldn't help but smirk at the pitiful look on your face.

"If you don't want me, just be honest about it." You said and raised your cup to take another drink. Katsuki intercepted your cup, pulled it from your hand, and placed both yours and his cup on the counter.

Katsuki wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter to him, your head resting on his chest.

"That's not the problem," he said, and you heard the words rumble in his chest.

"Then what is?" You asked nuzzling more into him.

"Told ya- you're drunk out of your mind. Doesn't feel right." He said giving you a squeeze.

"I missed you though... kiss me at least?" You compromised.

Katsuki pulled you off his chest and placed his finger under your chin. He guided your lips to him as he pressed his lips softly to yours. Being given the taste of him now, you were set on not letting him go. You deepened the kiss pressing further into him. Embarrassed by the slight moan that left your lips at his contact. You had been wanting him again for so long. You gave into your drunken impulses and playfully bit at his bottom lip, your arms wrapping around his neck.

"Mm- hey-," Katsuki said pulling away before you could go further. "Fuck- you make it hard to say no you know that?"

"Then don't," you said and attempted to pull him back into a kiss.

Katsuki avoided your kiss and repositioned himself back. "How about this- I'll take you home. BUT- you got to promise to behave. Gonna feed you, get you to rest and sober up. Then... in the morning when you're clear-headed," he moved his lips to your ear to whisper, "I'll show ya how bad I really want you."

"Deal," you said, a huge drunken grin on your face. You interlaced your hand with his and led him out of the kitchen. Guiding him through the party to the front door as if to show off your prize.

sinners: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @zanarkandskylines @reneinii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Not your usual undead

Daryl Dixon x reader

Which undead do you choose? The ones outside, or the one in front of you?

So, @ghostboneswrites2 said she's more of a vampire girly and my head did something.

Every breath burned in your lungs, the cold air not helping your sweaty self in the slightest as you ran for your life through the woods. Groups of walkers came out of nowhere, like they were coordinated to surround your group that you now inconveniently lost.

You ran for god knows how long, starting when the sun was barely above the horizon.

It looked like almost midday now, having stopped behind a large tree and spotting a large factory like wall halfway built into the rock wall behind it.

Large, blacked out and barricaded windows covered the front of the place. A hiding space.

You could rest there, you had to get in. It took some time but you managed to get in and close up from the inside, ensuring no one would follow.

It was too dark inside, you could barely find the flashlight you kept in your bag.

You clicked it on and heard a groan, immediately turning the light towards the sound and drew your knife again. Another groan. You followed the sound to get to the walker that had probably gotten stuck somewhere, currently being on its last legs before entirely decaying.

After making your way around the dump of a hall you found the source of the noise laying face down in the bed of a partially stripped truck. You held your knife up, ready to climb in and strike when the softest “don’t” came from the body.

The flashlight whipped into the direction of the head and you got another groan in response. Moving the flashlight over the rest of the body you shoved it with your boot and turned it over.

It was a man. A dirty old man with ratty long hair and a scruffy beard. He wore faded black jeans and a thick, dark green flannel.

He had weapons on him, but nothing else. He looked like he was dying.

"Are you bit?" You didn't even know if you expected an answer, but he did respond with great difficulty. "Hunger.."

"Leave.." The downed man groaned with the most urgency he could summon. "Smell good.. W'na eatya.."

You backed up, almost tripping backwards off the truck bed. With the stagger of tour body the flashlight beam came across his face once more, the shine reflecting off his eyes like an animal's. "Gah, fuck!" His hand flew up to cover his eyes, leaving his mouth open and breathinf heavily. Fangs?

"Oh fuck." In shock you dropped your knife. "You're one of those redneck werewolves that lived near here." You stepped further back, crouching back on the edge of the bed now.

"The fuck didya call me?" With newfound strength he hauled himself up into a sitting position. "In all'a mah hundreds o'years I got called lots'a names but yer the first one ta offend me like tha.."

He scoffed where he sat. "Callin' me a filthy mutt. Should kill ya fer tha.." A loud cough wracked his entire body, leaning forward on his hands, heaving. His body needed something to survive, it was already starting to eat away at itself.

"Wait. You're not?" Curiosity got the best of you and you leaned closer, placing a hand down in front of you. Right where you had dropped your knife just now and cut your palm. You hissed in pain, pulling back in perfect harmony with the man's sudden lurch forward.

His eyes were wild, mouth hanging open as he licked his lips. His hand moved to your knife and picked it up, bringing it to his lips and licking your blood off it before tossing it aside.

"Hand." The hand that just tossed aside your knife was now asking for your bleeding palm. "Ya owe me after callin' me a dog."

The blood was running down your sleeve by now, it was so gross. He needed to eat, just like you. Except he couldn't feed on whatever he found he needed animals. Or people.. And you swore to never let another person starve if they hadn't harmed you or your loved ones.

You extended your shaking hand out to him, anxiety spiking when his face got closer.

His hands found your wrist and fingers before his tongue dragged over the cut, a low moan escaping him at the taste.

You were about to comment when he jerked your arm closer. You fell forward, hands on his thigh to keep you from faceplainting into his chest. His hand moved down your arm and his now way longer fangs sunk deep into your wrist.

You let out a cry at the initial contact but quickly felt the pain fade, only a dull pulling sensation with each soft suck of his lips around the wounds.

It didn't hurt. It wasn't so bad after all. Somehow it was kind of nice, and his flannel was so soft against your cheek..

God, all that running had seriously tired you out.

Sleep, what an amazing idea..

Hou hadn't even realised you had passed out until you woke up in the truck bed, an old blanket covering you and the flickering of flames just off to the side.

"Welcome back." The man's voice held a lot more energy now, he was up and walking around the place. "C'mere. Ya gotta eat sum'n."

With the fire burning you could take a better look around. Your coat was off, now laying flat over the blanket that covered you. The place looked like it used to be an auto garage. The second you slipped from underneath the blankets you were back to freezing, grabbing your coat and pulling it on. "Jesus, how aren't you cold?"

"Tha's the first thing yer askin' me?" He scoffed with a smile on his face. "Ya know the dead don't feel cold, right?"

The dead.. "Oh that's just my luck, huh." You found your way to the fire and sat down close to it, taking in its warmth. "I run from the undead, right into the fangs of another kind of undead."

"Least I get ta choose if I wanna turn ya with a bite. 'Cept if I do I lose ma food again." The man held out a skewered piece of meat out to you, but you were reluctant to take it. "S'jus rabbit." He lifted a furry skin up into view, showing you the little bunny ears before tossing it aside again. "Went 'n found somethin' ta get yer strenght up after I fed off ya so much."

Accepting the food with a thanks, you took a small bite and let out a hum at how good it tasted. "You know," you started, pointing at your new companion with your food. "I always thought vampires were pretty boys with sticks up their asses who seduced their bloodbag wifeys." You twirled the stick in his direction before taking another bite.

"First ya call me a dog, n' now yer comparin' me ta them shitty teen movie fakes?" He snapped at you in annoyance, his face held a look that clearly said he was regretting not entirely draining you earlier.

Your hands shot up in response, quickly going into defensive mode. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I am not a fan of those fancy schmancy dudes. No sir."

You laughed at yourself around a mouthful of food, thinking back to those horribly made romance movies. "I like your type more. Yeah, ugh those skinny fucks always looked like they'd whine if they got blood on their shirts, man."

You earned a laugh with that comment. "Yer sayin' ya prefer me snackin' on ya 'n bleedin' all over ya next time?" You almost choked on a piece of meat then. "I'm sorry what? Next? No. Huh?" You couldn't tell if the heat rising to your cheeks was from his words or the food you almost choked on now.

"C'mon, promise ta take jus' wha I need." He took thw second rabbit skewer from next to the fire and handed it to you. "I'll keep ya fed, ya keep me fed. S'a great deal."

"I don't even know your name, how about you share that first." You snatched the skewer from his hand and chowed it down in no time while staring at him in wait for his response.

"Name's Daryl. Got cursed durin' a stupid drug deal mah brother took me along for." He sighed and leaned back, turning to stretch his legs. "Now ya know ma name. Yer fine stickin' 'round now?"

You could only roll your eyes at him at that. "Alright you know what? I'll admit I prefer rhe company of your type of undead over those outise, and I bet my old group has all become part of those shitty undeads so yeah. I'll stick around."

A/N: I don't think I've ever written for vampires ever so I hope this is okay.

[gimmethatagustd]

wanna make a movie | kth

The one time you fucked Taehyung was a fluke, and it will never happen ever again in a million years. Never ever ever. Right? RIGHT??

» pairing: taehyung x reader (from "wanna fuck on camera")

» genre: BTS | 18+ | frenemies to lovers | smut | a bit of fluff kinda

» wc/date: 3.7k | september 2022

» warnings: i meannn they're making a sex tape soooo | cunnilingus | unprotected vaginal sex | fingering | tae's pull out game strong 💪🏽 | cumshot | tae is Annoying but Hot | i definitely didn't edit this LOL SORRY

» notes: shoutout to this person for the video, we owe them big time 🤪 i recommend reading "wanna fuck on camera" first, but this can work as a standalone

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? movie star - cix

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

“I already told you I’m not posing for nudes, asshole. Is the one you took of me not enough for you? Hmm?”

Taehyung grinned as he popped out the flip screen on his camera. “I don’t want to take photos of you. I want to film you.”

He was such a piece of shit. He really was. Since your ridiculous entanglement with Taehyung during Hoseok’s birthday party, Taehyung hadn’t left you alone. It was worse than before; he suddenly believed fucking him gave him a free pass to get on your nerves even more than he had to begin with. 

You hated it and you hated him. That was all there was to it. 

Crossing your arms against your chest, you glared at the man as he fiddled with the camcorder. This was infinitely worse than the film camera debacle. You didn’t even want to consider what he’d done with the photo of you cumming on his fingers. The thought of him having it made you shiver. 

“Film me doing what?” You immediately regretted the question when it left your lips and Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up. The smug, shit-eating grin on his face was almost unbearable. 

“Well, babe-” 

“Do not call me that.” 

“Well, Y/N.” He gave you a pointed look. “I need to diversify my portfolio and the only thing I’m missing is erotic art.” 

You scoffed and crossed your legs. At this point, you were a pretzel sitting on the edge of Taehyung’s couch. “You’re disgusting.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a sweet smile. “But I promise what I have planned isn’t as ‘disgusting’ as you probably think.” 

You didn’t trust him for shit, but you liked the idea of hearing what he had to say even if only to shut him down. You were looking for every reason to shit on his massive ego, maybe because you were embarrassed that you gave in to him when you said you wouldn’t. 

It was a fluke, though. A moment of bad judgment. You were thinking with your pussy. But not anymore. Nope. 

Fool me once, shame on you.

“What are your twisted little plans then, TaTa?” You shifted slightly when Taehyung moved to sit down next to you on the couch, forcing you up against the arm of the couch and giving you very little room. 

“Have you ever done a striptease before?” 

“I fucking told you I am not doing nudes.” 

Taehyung swiftly grabbed your jaw and turned your head to face him. The forced action made you gasp quietly, just enough to release a breathy sound when you exhaled. He watched you for a moment with the tip of his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Fucking listen to me, yeah?” 

You could do nothing but nod, your eyes glued to his parted lips. 

“I don’t need you to be naked. I just need some shots of you taking off your clothes.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Taehyung squeezed your jaw tighter. “Headless shots, okay? Nothing identifiable. No nudity. Think of it as like an OnlyFans teaser, but make it hipster. Slap on a grainy, sepia filter. Or maybe a soft pink glow. I haven’t decided yet.” 

You were barely listening to him, most of your focus on how his hand had slowly let go of your face and migrated down to your throat. Your heartbeat spiked beneath his fingers. 

“Why are you asking me to do this?” 

Taehyung pulled away and returned to examining his camera settings. “Everyone I know who’d be down to do this would try to fuck me. Considering the theme, and everything. It would be so distracting.” He looked up at you through his fluffy bangs with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “You’re hot and would never fuck me, as you’ve made very clear.” He paused for a moment, tapping his finger against his lips. “Well, not a second time.” 

And there was that stupid fucking boxy grin again. 

“Oh shut the fuck up.” You were tired of playing games. “How much are you going to pay me?” 

“Depends on how good the shots are.” 

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with,” you huffed. 

Taehyung hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t make a move to get up. His fingers brushed along the outside of your thigh until he reached the waistband of your leggings. You fought the urge to squirm in your seat, instead doing your best to mindfully breathe and keep your fists squeezed against the couch cushions. 

“What are you wearing under here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You challenged him through gritted teeth. 

Taehyung leaned forward until his breath caressed the side of your face. “I’m about to find out.” 

With that, Taehyung stood up and held his hand out for you to take. You swatted him away, perfectly capable of getting up on your own and following him into his bedroom. To say his bedroom looked like a porno setup was no exaggeration. A large studio light stood in the corner, the head pointed toward the bed. Another camera sat on a tripod on the opposite side of the room, though it was pointed away from the bed. LED lights wrapped around the high ceilings cast the room a soft lavender glow. 

“Are you kidding me?” You stood in the doorway with your hands on your hips. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Do you see how small my apartment is? I have nowhere else to store my equipment when I’m not using it. Relax and come here.” 

Grabbing you by the shoulders, Taehyung positioned you in front of a standing mirror that stood against the wall directly across from his bed. He took a step back to examine your placement, making a few adjustments until he got you where he wanted you. 

“Satisfied?” Your skin was tingling from his firm touch as he shuffled you around. It was just your body reacting to skin-on-skin contact. That was all. It was just… nature. Science. Whatever. 

“Very,” he said with a wink that you did a poor job of brushing off. The burning heat of embarrassment creeping up your body only intensified as you watched Taehyung sit at the foot of his bed. With his camcorder in hand, he leaned back far enough to get the angle he wanted. It was harmless, really. He was just a struggling artist trying to make his mark in the world, that’s all. And you were half-heartedly helping him. 

So if that was the case, why was watching Taehyung’s biceps flex as he held the camera and his thighs spread making you wet? 

You cleared your throat and looked away from the man splayed out on his bed like he was the one being filmed, not you. “What am I supposed to do now?” 

Taehyung reached up to run his fingers through his hair and flip his bangs to the side. All you could think about was how you knew tugging on those wavy strands would make him moan. 

“Start with your shirt. Wait, no, not like that.”

You had one arm out and froze. “Like what?” 

“Do it sexier.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“Oh, come on. Stop relying on that silver tongue and seduce me.”

Was it possible to feel like all your blood had drained out of your body and that all the blood in your body had gone to your head? 

“Fine,” you snapped, readjusting your shirt. The positive side to all of this was that as you slowly lifted your shirt over your head, you could revel in the fact that you knew Taehyung wanted you and he could never have you. 

Well, never again. 

But maybe that made it even better. He got a taste and you were denying him more. You had all the fucking power! 

You put in a little more effort to be sensual as you let your shirt fall to the floor. The red lace bra you wore lifted up a bit, exposing the underside of your tits, but you didn’t move to fix it like you normally would. Instead, you ran your hands over your exposed skin, even your own light touches causing goosebumps to form all over. It didn’t help that it was cold in Taehyung’s apartment. You wondered how high quality his camera was. If it was even half decent, it would pick up on how see-through the fabric was over your tits. It left little for the imagination, but Taehyung had already had your nipples in his mouth. 

The little asshole was leaned back again, shifting slightly to capture your best angles as you reached for the waistband of your leggings. You made the mistake of looking at his face rather than the camera lens. His tongue swept over his bottom lip as you slid your leggings down; you quickly looked away. 

This was just a favor. A favor for an art project. That was it. 

Bending at the waist meant you exposed the fact that you were wearing a rather skimpy thong - red lace, just like your bra. Adjusting your stance made your thighs rub together and you fought the urge to look down for fear that your underwear would be stained a dark red from how wet you were. 

A quiet groan from the bed made you look up at your photographer once again. His bottom lip was bitten between his teeth, but he immediately released it when he saw you looking. The two of you locked eyes as your bodies froze. 

“Why are you fucking wearing red lace?” 

You opened your mouth to speak but your brain couldn’t think of any response aside from the truth. And there was no way you were telling him the truth. There was no way you were telling Taehyung that you’d worn a matching set just in case something happened. Because nothing was supposed to happen.

Instead, you deflected. 

“Why are you hard right now?” 

You both looked down at the very prominent bulge that had grown in Taehyung’s jeans. He used his free hand to palm his cock and attempt to adjust it into a more comfortable position. 

“Why are you wet right now?” 

Now it was your turn. You finally dared to look at yourself, not surprised but still horrified to find your arousal soaking through the flimsy material of your thong. 

Taehyung lifted slightly so he was propped up on his elbows, the camera still positioned on you. You really prayed he wasn’t planning to use any audio for this video. Like as if that’s what mattered at the moment. 

“You’re so into this,” he said smugly. 

“No, I’m not.” Your rebuttal was weak, so weak it felt foreign coming from someone with a “silver tongue” like you. But when you watched Taehyung get up from the bed, your rebuttal wasn’t the only thing about you that was weak. 

“You’re not?” Taehyung pointed the camera toward your thighs as he reached down to press his thumb against your clit through your thong. You let out a shaky moan and felt more of your arousal soak your thong. “Sounds like you are. Feels like you are.” Taehyung fully palmed your pussy, pressing his fingers against your entrance. The action made your legs tremble and you squeezed his bicep for support. 

“Fuck you,” you hissed and dug your nails into his skin. 

“Heard that one before.” He shot you a wink. “And to think you got mad about the photo I took of you. If I’d known you’d get this wet for me so quickly, I would have brought this with me instead.” 

His taunting reminded you of the camcorder he still held in his hand. It was pointed downward as Taehyung hooked his finger into the waistband of your thong and pulled it down just enough for his fingers to dip inside your wet folds. 

“Taehyung,” you moaned when he thrust two fingers inside of you. The squelching sound your pussy made was sure to have been picked up by the camera. 

“Yeah, baby? You like that?” He pressed hard into your front wall repeatedly, the fluttering sensation making you reach for his shoulder with your other hand to stabilize yourself. “Like being my little movie star?” 

You wanted to cry when he pulled his fingers out of you, and your entire body shuddered when you felt him wipe his fingers on the inside of your thigh. The worry that he was only going to tease you to rub the whole thing in your face flashed into your mind, but it was quickly squashed once Taehyung was pressing the camera into your hands. 

“Like this.” He positioned you to point the camera downwards. 

“Wha-” 

Ignoring your confusion, Taehyung dropped to his knees, dragging your thong down your thighs as he went. The camera shook in your hands as he threw one of your legs over his shoulder. You could have came just from the way he looked up at you from between your thighs. How many times had you imagined this moment? More than you were willing to admit. And for all the fantasizing, you were lucky that it was even better than what you could have come up with on your own. He brushed his bangs out of the way and tilted his head so you had a clear view of his face as he ran his tongue flat against your lips. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Taehyung reached up to grab your hand, stabilizing the camera. “Hold still for me, okay baby? You gotta hold still.” When he spoke his lips brushed against your skin, causing your arousal to stick in thin strings to his glistening mouth. 

Once your shaking subsided, Taehyung’s hands slid down to grab your ass. With his grip on you tight, he pulled you against his mouth. A hard suck to your clit made your hands tremble. By the time Taehyung began swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit in tight circles, you were shaking again. He had to reach up to hold your hand to stabilize the camera again. 

“I-I-I can’t,” you began to sob and shake your head. You had to wrap your fingers in Taehyung’s waves to focus the pressure of your building orgasm into something other than squeezing the fuck out of the camera in your other hand. Of course, each tug of his hair made Taehyung’s lovely baritone voice moan into your pussy, the vibrations pulsing through every nerve in your body. 

“Yes, you can.” The words came out breathy and hoarse in between hard sucks and kitten licks against your clit. You were close to believing in his faith in you until he slipped two fingers into your soaked pussy. 

“I’m…” You paused to suck in a deep breath as he pumped a mind-numbingly fast rhythm against your g-spot, “I’m gonna fall over.” 

“Nuhh uhh.” Taehyung scooted forward, pushing you backward until your back hit the mirror. 

You leaned against the mirror for support as your orgasm ripped through you so violently you would have dropped the camcorder if it weren’t for Taehyung holding it up with you. He kept his eyes focused on you as he licked one final stripe up your lips, cleaning up your arousal until he was the one messy with it all over his face. 

“God, I wish you’d let me record your face when you cum,” Taehyung groaned into the back of his hand as he wiped his mouth. He reached out to take the camera from you and laughed at the way your hands shook. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you look.”

You should have been upset. Taehyung now had footage of himself eating your pussy. Sure, no one would be able to tell that it was you, but still… That was something very intimate. 

Yet you couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when he’d called you his movie star. Hearing “beautiful” come tumbling from his filthy lips wasn’t too bad, either. 

“No chance in hell, creep.” You crossed your arms against your chest to punctuate the statement. You didn’t have a chance to say anything more; Taehyung quickly shut you up with his lips slotted against yours. You allowed him to lick at your mouth and swirled your tongue against his, humming at the taste of yourself on him. 

“Always so difficult.” He tossed the accusation at you as he pulled away. Using his free arm, Taehyung scooped you over his shoulder. “Y’know, the meaner you are to me the more I want to rearrange your guts.” 

You let out a gag as Taehyung tossed you onto the bed, bouncing into place in the middle. “You did not just say that.” Whatever else you wanted to insult him over died on your lips as you watched Taehyung strip. 

“Come on, Director. Take a video. It’ll last longer.” 

He gestured to the camera still recording as he unbuttoned his jeans, his taunting parallel to how harsh you’d been to him at Hoseok’s party. You were mean to him, but only because he could take it. And maybe, just maybe, you had the hots for getting him riled up, just as he did for you. 

It felt unbelievably dirty recording Taehyung as he stood at the end of the bed with his thumb rolling precum around the tip of his cock, but something about it made your pussy flutter to life once again. It didn’t help that he shot the camera a wink as he did one final pump before he was kneeling on the bed in front of you. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, twirling his finger around to direct you. 

“I liked you better when you were crying and begging for me like a good boy.” 

You glowered at him as you turned around. Taehyung’s hand quickly came down to press down your back, forcing your upper body into the mattress and keeping you on your knees. He spread you out as far as he could, the mattress muffling a groan when you felt him hook a finger in your pussy just to make you shake. 

“I can still be a good boy for you like this,” he whispered against your skin as he bent down to kiss along your spine. You shivered in response, biting your tongue to keep in your moans as you felt Taehyung swish his cock around your slickness. “But since you don’t want me documenting your gorgeous face, your fat ass will have to do.” 

Before you could snort another insult towards his disgusting behavior, Taehyung sunk his cock so slowly you could hear the gushing sound when he bottomed out. 

“Fuck, you sound so good, fuck.” Taehyung moaned as he began thrusting into you, each wet slap of his hips colliding with your ass fueling his desire to speed up. 

You twisted around to watch him lift the camcorder to the perfect angle to capture the way your pussy sucked him in with ease, each pullback evidence of how tightly you gripped him. Throwing your dignity to the wind, you decided to play the part. Hooking your legs with his, you ground against him as he thrust into you, forcing your bodies against each other even harder as you established an equal rhythm. 

“Shit, just like that,” Taehyung moaned, removing his hand from your waist and leaning back slightly to let you take over. “Fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Fuck, yes.” 

“Touch me, Tae.” As much as it was a moan, it was most definitely a demand. 

And like the good boy he promised to be, Taehyung quickly brought his free hand around to play with your clit. The stimulation was enough to push you over the edge a second time, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposefully scream a little bit louder than necessary just because you were on camera now. If Taehyung knew, he seemed to not care. 

If anything, it made him even more vocal. And maybe he was putting on his own show because instead of releasing inside of you, he quickly pulled out of you to pump his cum all over your ass. 

“Y/N…” Taehyung slowly got up from the bed to get a washcloth to clean you off. You tilted your head to watch him, smug with the satisfaction of seeing that he wobbled a little bit as he walked. Even his hands shook when he worked to clean you up. 

“What?” You sat up once he was done, wincing at the slight ache of your thighs from how hard he’d pounded into you. 

Taehyung sat on the edge of the bed with the dazed look of a man who’d just gotten the soul fucked out of him. “I think I’m in love with you.” 

You snorted, but Taehyung leaned forward to cup your face. 

“I’m so serious right now.” 

“You’re just fucked out.” 

Taehyung pouted, eyebrows deeply creased. “This is post-nut clarity. I know what I’m about.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the seriousness of his expression, especially as he sat with his softening cock and his messy hair, cheeks and lips still pink. It was so unbelievably endearing and you fucking hated it. 

“This isn’t funny, Y/N.” 

All along, your (alleged) goal was to damage Taehyung’s ego. And now that you had the opportunity to, the little creep was tugging at your heartstrings in a way you hadn’t expected at all. 

“You don’t have to love me back,” he said with a sigh. “I just needed to get it off my chest.” 

Reaching for his hair, you tugged Taehyung mid-moan into a slow kiss that meant less about being sexy and more about taking away the stressed look on his face. Your fingers skirted along his jaw, holding him in place as you deepened the kiss. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” You kept a hold of his hair even after you broke the kiss. 

“Yes, thank you.” Taehyung grinned and you felt your stomach flutter once again. 

Pulling him close, you pressed your lips against the crook of Taehyung’s neck. The feeling of his strong arms holding you close made you tremble. “You’re lucky I’m into guys who are assholes.”

Maybe it wasn’t the “I love you” someone else would expect, but Taehyung understood you better than you knew.

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work  

@taegiblr @aislinnstanaka @bbtsficrecs @coffeebooksandromantics @confusedbansheee @ekjalxd @fan-ati--c @furryfortae @haliiimede @highly-functioning-mitochondria @jeanjacketjesus @jjkeverlast @jlm-ykhw @jwlmnbt @klitklittredge @koobsessed @lemonadecandycandy @mishahs @miss-jupiter @moonchild1 @moonleeai @nch327 @nonbinary-demonbrat @notbotheredtho @notsooperfect @parkdatjimin @polipiper @reliablemitten @rjsmochii @saweetspoiled @seoul-soul-127 @stillinedwardcullenera @sugarwithtea @unsureofwhathappens @veronawrites @wobblewobble822 @xjoonchildx @yoongukie-ff @yu-justme @taerifin

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Youngest Shadow: Chapter Eight, The Game

(Alice X Reader X Jasper)

[Seven] [Eight] [Nine]

warning: slight homophobia

Longest chapter so far with almost 4k words

Jessica and I have been practicing outside, Angela taking pictures. Only practicing since Jessica has nagged me for the past few days now. Trying to spike on me every time we do so. Eric was studying the prom fliers, “Monte Carlo? That’s our theme?” Jessica frowns at the lame theme that was chosen for this year. “Gambling, tuxedos and Bond. James- Ow!” She threw a ball roughly at Eric’s face, I smirk. 

“Oh. My. God.” Angela exclaims, who was once scanning to take more pictures is now frozen in place. We follow to where she was staring and it was just my sister and Edward showing up to school together. I hadn’t really been speaking to Alice and Jasper after the night with their family. Overhearing that it was destined for me to have a near death experience just for me to know who I was in my past lives and they knew it was going to happen. It also works because I hate attention, something I know Bella hates too. 

Throughout the rest of the day Jasper and Alice would stare at me, trying to pull me aside to talk to me only for me to ignore them and hurry off to a different area or sit somewhere else if we shared a class. But at the end of the day it was a waste when Alice came up to me, taking my hand in hers. “Hey, what’s going on lovebug?” I gave her a look for the stupid nickname and she laughs. “Sorry, but seriously why are you avoiding us?” She pouts, I lick my lips getting ready to actually say it but then something stops me once I lock eyes with her. 

“I needed some time to think about us.” I tell her, “I’m having a hard time with everything, trying to understand and I overwhelmed myself at your place I felt embarrassed.” I lied, I was fine with the whole vampire thing surprisingly. That’s not what bothered me. What bothered me was the fact that she knows I’m going to have a near death experience and won’t even warn me. I don’t understand how that’s protecting me. Maybe I’ll bring it up later. 

“Ah, that makes sense. I’m sorry it’s so overwhelming for you, my lovebug.” She moves my hair behind my ear sending shivers down my spine. It honestly made me forget how many people were around, until we get shouted at. “What the fuck?” A guy yelled, I step away from Alice and we turn to see some guy I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in school. “You guys gay or some shit?” He laughs, my eyebrows furrow as Alice glares at him. 

“Y’all should kiss!” His friends hit him in the shoulders like he did something with that. I glance over and see Jasper staring at the scene as well. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The three guys all laugh, I flick them off and they just laugh harder. 

“I need to go, my dad made plans. Just um, come over later.” I tell her, walking away to my bike, getting my helmet on and riding off as quick as possible due to the embarrassment I just had to endure. I ended up coming to the cafe later than Bella which meant I was super late.

There were a group of basketball players outside and I mentally cursed seeing Mike there as well. “[Name]! I didn’t know you were a lesbo!” One of the guys shouted at me and my eyes widen but I try to ignore it, heading towards the door but he blocks it. “Does her man know?” His arm was on the door and he leaned on it. I stare up at him not saying anything. “What?” You got something to say?” He asks, I take my helmet off, putting it on the ground, staring back up at him. I take a deep breath. “I asked you something.” He repeats, I take a step back. In the corner of my eye I see my dad stand up from his spot in the booth. Bella seemed alarmed. “Come on, man. She don’t deserve this plus her dad’s the chief.” Mike puts a hand on his shoulder but the guy doesn’t back up. I dip my hand into my front pocket of my jeans.

“Does your dad know you like-” I take my hand out and spray him with the pepper spray Charlie gave me. He stumbles back holding his eyes and screaming in pain. The cafe door swings open. What happened!?” He angrily asks, “Nothing, sir. He went too far, he was antagonizing her.” Mike blurts out, the kid groans outloud but the group pushes him away. Charlie turns to look at me. “What the hell was that, [Name]?” He grabbed onto my arms as I try my hardest to look away from him. “[Name] Swan, answer me right now.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it!” I exclaim, tears welling in my eyes. “Please.”

His grip loosens, his gaze softening as well. “Are you okay at least?” 

“I’m fine.” I sniffle, wiping my eyes, he lets me go and grabs my helmet for me. “I should wash my hands.” I lift up my hand that’s covered in the pepper spray, I didn’t wipe my eyes with this hand don’t worry. He sighs, shaking his head, pushing me inside. Cora the waitress who knows about my whole life from dad places a hand on my back. “You alright, sweetheart.” I just nod, heading straight for the bathroom to wash my hands quickly then going back to the booth with my sister and dad. 

The dinner ends up being a little awkward as they talk to each other but treat me like they need to walk on egg shells. I forced myself to eat so I don’t have to talk much so I just listen to them. 

After getting home I rush straight to my room where they were already standing, I shut the door, locking it right away and collapsing on my bed. Wanting to just sob and go to sleep but I know I should talk to them. Definitely not about what I heard though, I’m already exhausted from pepper spraying a basketball player. Alice sits behind me, motioning for me to lay on her. I end up just putting my head on her lap and she plays with my hair. 

I stare up at Jasper, he steps closer, wiping my cheek that had a tear fall. I noticed how his face seemed stiffer than normal. I then remembered how it hurts him to be around people still. His thirst stronger than the others. 

“I saw what happened, I’m sorry we didn’t stop it.” Alice apologizes, I look up at her and she seemes extremely beat up over it. I place my hand on top of hers. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” I attempt to assure her. She smiles gently. “I won’t go near you at school anymore. You don’t deserve to go through that.” She tells me, I sit up from her lap. “What? No, let them talk.” I grab her hand tighter even though I know she barely feels it. “But-” 

“I know how I am with attention but I don’t care anymore. Plus I have my pepper spray.” I wink and they both laugh quietly. “Are you sure, darling?” Jasper questions, I pull him closer to me, having him actually sit down now. “Of course, let them talk. What else are they going to do?” I shrug, Alice stands up, going over and sitting on my lap. “If that’s what you want.” She kisses my nose softly. I nod, “It is.”

We then sit there silently and I think about my thoughts from before. I know I’m not going to bring it up to them but I want to so badly understand their thinking. Understand why they do what they do. 

“You’re anxious.” Jasper states, I suck on the inside of my cheek not respnding. “Why?” Alice questions. “Just wondering about how that would play out.” I lie, well partially. 

“Mmm, it will be okay. We’ll be there. Also, we want to take you somewhere tomorrow. Edward will be picking you and Bella up.” She stands up from my lap, she takes Jasper’s hand but I stop both of them from leaving. 

“Wait, I want to um.. I want to try something.” I tell them, getting up from my bed, first taking Alice’s face in the palm of my hands. She smiles, automatically knowing what I’m doing she closes her eyes. I lean slowly, my heart racing as I kiss her lips longer than a few seconds. I push away after a little bit, we both look up to see Jasper watching and I chuckle, pulling him towards me and doing the same thing. 

“I’ll see you both tomorrow.” I wave them off and not even seconds later they’re gone. 

A few hours later my mom ends up calling me, I pick it up lazily knowing that either Bella or Charlie had told her what happened. I hear loud noises in the background fading away. “[Name]!” it was my moms voice yelling, I jolted away from my own hand then go back to it. “Yes, mom?” I ask, “I heard you pepper sprayed someone! What did he do?” She says, I throw my head back annoyed. 

“Mom, I’m fine.” I tell her but I knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer. “[Name]” She warns me. “Mom, please.” I nervously say. “I will have your father investigate what happened if you do not tell me right now.” Of course she pulls that out, “You don’t have to do that.” I tell her. 

“It was just a guy calling me a lesbo or whatever. No biggie.” I quickly say, this happened before in Arizona, I’ve been called names my whole life. Especially for not liking guys and never having a boyfriend. “If it’s no biggie why’d you punch?” She interrogates me, I roll my eyes like before. “I was cornered.” That wasn’t a lie necessarily. She hums, still not satisfied. “Who’s the girl, [Name].” She says and it felt like my eyes pop out of my socket. “Mom!”

“Oh, come on [Name]. I know my daughter.” She laughs, “Who is she?” She repeats herself and I sigh. “Her name is Alice.” She squeals in laughter. “Mom!” I whine for her to stop. “I’m sorry! I’m just happy you found someone.” She tells me. “Well, actually it’s her and her boyfriend.” I bite my lip waiting for judgement. 

“Hey, I can’t judge your lifestyle. Two people?” She excitedly laughs and I shake my head. “Please don’t tell anyone. No one knows except Bella and that’s because they’re also apart of the Cullen family.” I sigh, picking at my finger nails. “Woww I need to see what these people look like if both of my daughters decided to date them.” She jokes, I smile to myself just happy she’s not upset with my dating life even though I know it is definitely out of the ordinary. 

“Well, I should get going to bed mom. I love you.” I say, “Oh, I love you too, goodnight!” She blows kisses over the phone and i press the button to hang up. Finally laying down for the night and going to bed. 

The next day I was sitting with Charlie as Bella came into the room. Charlie is currently cleaning his rifle, he goes to greet her but she cuts him off. “I have a date with Edward Cullen. [Name] does too with his foster brother.” She announcses and I quietly laugh at his facial expression as he glances between the both of us. “They’re too old for you two.” He responds. “We’re both juniors plus Jasper is only a Senior. Also I thought you liked the Cullens.” She says, I tilt my head agreeing with her. “And I thought you weren’t interested in any of the boys in town.” Charlie brings up, she seems frustrated. “Edward doesn’t live in town and its in the early stage- and whatever he’s outside right now.” This even causes me to stop every movement I was making like my dad just did. “Now? He’s out there?” 

“He wants to meet you. Officially.” She tells him. “Good.” Charlie cocks his rifle. I snicker, earning a look from her. “Be nice, okay? He’s important.” He nods reassuring her, she goes to the door and opens it to reveal her new boyfriend. “Cheif Swan I wanted to formally introduce myself. I’m Edward.” He extends his hand and Charlie hesitantly takes it grunting a small hello. “I won’t keep the two out late tonight. We’re just going to play baseball with my family.” He informs him also informing us because we had no idea either. “Bella’s going to play baseball?” Charlie is shocked, definitely because Bella doesn’t play sports. “Yes sir, that’s the plan.” He nods. “Well, more power to you I guess.” 

“They’ll be safe with my family, I promise.” Edward makes eye contact with him to show him he was being serious. He exits and as I get up Charlie holts both of us from following. “You both got that pepper spray- [Name] I know you do.” I laugh at his words. “Dad.” Bella shakes her head, we then both leave and climb into this massive jeep. “Your father thinks you should go to an all-girls school.” Edward says to Bella in an amused tone. 

“No fair, reading Charlie’s mind.” I sat in the backseat and I notice the baseball cap the same time as Bella. “And since when do vampires like baseball?”

I mentally cringed to that question. “It’s the American past time. Plus, there’s a thunderstorm coming. It’s the only time we can play. You’ll see why.” He explains and now I’m perked up at the thought of seeing my two play. Watch them in action of a sport I actually really enjoy. 

We finally get through the clearing of woods, it was a field and there were storm clouds erupting in the sky. The jeep comes to a stop, Esme and Emmett come over to greet us, Emmett helping me down. I look around for Jasper and Alice, “Good thing you’re here. We need some umpires.” Esme smiles sweetly. Emmett has a wicked grin caused by her words. “She thinks we cheat.” He laughs. “I know you cheat.” She turns to both of us. “Call em how you see em girls.” She pats us. I see Alice on the pitchers mound and she gives me a quick wave before speaking up. “It’s time!” Right then a rumble of thunder shakes and I grip onto Bella excitedly. We both stand right by Esme who’s the catcher. Alie pitches and Rosalie smashes the ball with an aluminum bat. It cracks loudly right when a thunder hits at the same time. “Now I get why you need thunder.” My sister says. The ball goes right into the forest, Edward running after it. 

“That has to be a home run.” Bella insists as we wait. “Edward’s very fast.” Was all she said in return. Rosalie darts around the bases, it looks like a blur but Edward rasces out with the ball whipping to home plate. Esme catches it milliseconds before Rosalie slides in. 

“You’re out?” Bella says questioning herself and I sadly nod as I was kind of rooting for Rosalie. Esme nods too. Next up is Carlisle and he hits a line drive, Emmett and Edward race for it, colliding with one another with so much force it felt like I could feel it all in the ground like a mini earthquake. They end up missing the ball anyway, Carlisle is safe. I cheer for him, everyone smiles, almost.

Jasper is up and I watch him and Alice make eye contact and I fall in awe. Jasper whacks the ball into the forest like Rosalie just did. Before they can go after it Alice gasps and they all come to a stop. “Stop! I didn’t see them!” She shouts, Jasper pulling me behind him, Rosalie coming to my side as well. “They’re traveling so quickly.” Alice says in a worried tone. 

“You said they left the country.” Rosalie exclaims. “They did but then they heard us.” Alice looks at Edward. “And changed their minds.” Edward turns to Bella. “Put your hair down.”

Alice races over, shoving a hat onto my head. “They smell you too.” She sadly says and I raise an eyebrow. I thought no one was effected by my blood?

“Like that will help. I could smell her across the field.” Edward ignores Rosalie as he arranges Bella’s hair a certain way. “I shoudn’t have brought you here. I’m so sorry.” Edward says to Bella specifically. They all turn towards the forest and there’s three vampires that emerge out. I look down to their bare feet then back up to their dark red eyes. The one with darker skin and long hair lifts his hand up to show the baseball. “I believe this belongs to you.” He tosses the ball to Carlisle who catches it with ease. He smiles politely. “Thank you.” 

“Could you use three more players?” He questions. “Of course.” Carlisle nods. “I’m Laurent, this is Victoria and James.” He introduces them. 

“Would you like to bat first?” Carlisle asks, Laurent ends up with the bat.  I stand with Edward and Rosalie with my sister near the jeep. I watch Edwards eyes lock with James. “I’m afraid your hunting activities have caused something of a mess for us.” Carlisle says. 

“Our apologies. We didn’t realize the territory had been claimed.” Laurent responds and to be frank he seemed nice and genuine but the other two… I don’t know. “Yes, we maintain a permanent residence.” The three have a shared look of surprise from his words.  

“Really? Well we won’t be a problem anymore.” Laurant quickly tells everyone. “The humans were tracking us but we led them east.” The Victoria girl says just as Jasper pitches the ball, Laurent slams it but Alice is already up in a tree in a flash, she catches the ball with a thwap sound as it met her hand. Laurent looked pissed as James smiles, obviously glad he met worthy opponents. 

James is next and it was like a power slam, he runs past first base then Edward, then us two, then wind moves Bella’s hair and before I even realize it James comes to a complete stop. His head whips around to Bella and I, his nostrils flare. “You brought some snacks.” Alice rushes over to me, clinging onto my arm as Jasper was now in front of me beside Edward. 

The Cullens now all in a position. “The girls are with us.” Carlisle says, “We won’t harm them” Laurent reassures him, trying to diffuse the situation. “Just try it.” Emmett says, practically looking for a fight. 

“I think it’s best you leave.” Carlisle says, Rosalie puts her hand on Emmett to calm him down. “Yes, I can see the game is over. We’ll go now.” He says, turning to walk away but looks back. “James.” His hand goes onto the guys shoulder finally getting him to walk away. 

Once they’re gone Esme collects the bats. “Get them out of here. We’ll follow them.” Carlisle says, running off with Jasper and Rosalie towards the other three. Edward scoops up Bella as Alice rushes me to the jeep. Both of them strap us in like little kids. “James is a tracker. I saw his mind. The hunt is his obsession and my reaction set him off.” The two get in and Edward whips the jeep around. As Edward explains things to Bella I look at Alice. “How come my scent effects him?” I whisper to her. “I don’t know, I think it’s like Edward said he’s a hunter.” She sits by me and holds me close to her. 

“The first place he’ll go is your house. He’ll track your scent from there.” Edward says and I jump up as Bella looks horrified. “What?! Charlie’s there, he’s in danger because of me! Because of us!” She shouts and I start breathing heavily, Alice take my hand and tries to soothe me. “Then we’ll lead the tracker away from him somehow.” He calmly replies and I just knew it was to calm Bella down but it’s not working. 

Bella bursts into the house as I sit outside. “I said leave me alone!” Bella yells. “Bella don’t do this. Just think about it please.” Edward pleads and if i didn’t know what was happening I would’ve believed this. “Get out it’s over.” She slams the door and I end up going in a few seconds later. “Bella? What happened?” Charlie asks, his face full of worry. “I have to get out of this place. Out of Forks. I’m leaving and so is [Name].” Bella runs up the stairs, Charlie follows her. My heart breaks as I have to go along with it too. Bella slams the door behind her and he looks down at me. “What happened?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Dad it’s best for us to go. You saw how people treat me.” I explain my part of the reasoning. I walk to my room and Alice stood there handing me my bag. I stand in my room for a little bit then I peck her lips before jogging back over. “I thought you liked him?” Charlie asks and I obviously missed a little bit of the conversation. “That’s why I have to leave. I don’t want this I want to go home.” Bella says. 

Bella then goes to charge down the stairs but Charlie follows her. “Your mother’s not even in Phoenix.” Charlie reminds her. “She’ll come home. I’ll have [Name] call her.” 

“You can’t drive home now. I’ll take you two to the airport tomorrow morning.” I watch his facial expressions and the look makes me want to cry. “I want to drive. I need to think. I’ll pull into a motel in a few hours I promise.” She says and goes down more steps but Charlie blocks her from going further to the door. “Bells I know I’m not around much but I can change that. We can do more things together. [Name] I’ll make sure people stop bothering you. You can go on the rez with Jacob.” He pleads with us and I just hide behind Bella, not wanting to see his hurting expression any more. “Like watch more baseball on the flat screen? Or go to the Coffee shop? Same people, same steak, same berry cobbler every night? That’s you dad. Not me. Not us.” Bella exclaims and I know it hits him hard. I glance up and his eyes focus on me. “Do you… feel that way too?” His voice was soft and it partially broke. I suck in a deep breath. “Yes. I’m tired of being treated like a freak here dad.” I frown. “Bella, [Name]... I just got you two back.” I squeeze my eyes shut having a feeling where this is about to go so we can leave and as much as I don’t want her to go there we need to go. “And if I don’t get out now I’m going to get stuck here like mom did and I don’t want this for [Name] either.” Charlie looks stunned and we take that to our advantage, pushing through him and out of the door. We rush to her truck and she drives away. 

I glance back and see him staring out of the window.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Hi, I love your writing! I'm not sure if you are doing the erotic horror prompts anymore but if you are, then may I request a Prompt 9 OR 34 with John Wick?

Hi, thank you so much, Anonymous. It means the fucking world to me!!! Allow me to express my gratitude with some predator/prey:

(I know these are supposed to be horror, but I keep turning them into fluff. Please forgive me🥺❤️)

“So, the first rule of self defense is run,” John says, giving her a heavy, doubtful side eye that speaks volumes about his faith in her to do so. 

“Second?” She asks, arms crossed, foot tapping, watching him stalk circles around her like he’s going to drop her at any moment - her heart patters wildly every time she sees his step slow or his eyes move to a vulnerable part of her body, even though she knows that whatever “tells” he exhibits are actually fakeouts and dead ends. Just a way to get her nerves worked up so that she’s taking him seriously.

He stops in front of her, places a finger in the center of her chest, and she knows he could give a little push and she’d be flat on her ass.

But he doesn’t. He smiles. “Hide.”

She rolls her eyes. “The third?” 

“Fight. And -“ he moves his finger against her bare skin, drawing her eyes and attention, then flicks her lightly on the forehead as punishment for falling for it. “Don’t roll your eyes at your superior.”

She rubs the pink mark. “Ow,” she tells him, even though the trick only stung a tiny bit. 

“Now say, “yes, master.”” His eyes light with mischief. 

Every piece of her fucked, masochist body wants to fight him on that if only to earn more brutality for it. But this is supposed to be critical training, even though her trainer isn’t taking it as such.

She figures that she’ll be the determined one, for once, so she tips her head, straightens her shoulders, and says, “yes, master.”

His eyebrow raises behind untamed bangs. “Good.”

“Did you take that from a job orientation class?” She asks him.

“What?”

“At jobs, they use the ‘run, hide, fight’ for active shooters.”

He shakes his head no, but it’s so hard to tell when and if he’s fucking with her…

“Have you ever had a normal job?” She wonders aloud. 

He shrugs. “Then you already have the basics down. Excellent.” He continues circling. “Start small,” he says. “Then, work your way up.” 

She nods, although annoyed with being ignored, continue.

“So, we start with running.” 

She cringes. The mere thought of him watching her run laps is painfully embarrassing. 

Wanting to impress and not kill this before it even gets started, she keeps her mouth shut. 

“I’ll give you a minute head start.” 

Wait, what did he say?

She almost laughs. “We’re racing?”

His grin is worrying. “No, I’m chasing you.” 

In that case, she wants to ask for at least a five minute head start; eyes his thick, long legs. The taut muscle is visible shifting and tensing, even under his baggy sweatpants.  

“You’re going to catch me,” she tells him, wanting to argue about this being unfair. 

“Then you’d better start running,” he replies, flipping his wrist over to check the ticking time. 

“What - where am I allowed to go?” Cool sweat collects at the nape of her neck. 

“Anywhere.” He’s still looking at his watch, waiting patiently. 

“When are we starting?” 

His eyes flit up, glint at her, then focus back on the dwindling time. “Five seconds ago.”

Prickling anticipation drives her to argue. “How is that going to help me? Just running all day so you can keep catching me? Pretty soon I’ll get tired and will just give up and let you catch me.” 

“Oh, that’s what I forgot to mention,” John murmurs.

Anger anxiety cocktail spikes. Forgot to mention? There’s a lot of shit that he’s conveniently forgetting to mention.

“If I catch you, I tickle you.” His grin grows into a sharp-bladed tip.

“John,” she says, voice worried, which delights him. “That is not fair. You’re going to catch me and you can’t just tickle me all day when you do.” 

He’s a reasonable man. He’ll see her issue. She’s valid in her concerns, and they both know it. 

“Yes I can.” 

“Are you serious?!” 

“Uh huh.” He taps his watch face. “Thirty seconds.” 

Her shoes slip on the cushiony matts, landing her on her knees before she can start bolting.

He resists the urge to go to her. Thankfully, she’s not down for long, or else his concern would get the better of him. 

She stands and runs. Up the stairs, already panting and sweating, adrenaline an ache that builds higher the farther away she gets from him. 

Out the door of the gym, down the hallway, trying not to fall again and losing precious time because of it.

She’s in the cold before she knows what she’s doing. Her t-shirt does nothing to cover her from the frost, but fear and physical exertion help her stay warm. 

Down the left block, then ducking through an alleyway, wondering if he’s on her tail by now. 

Blessedly, there’s no snow on the ground, so she’s not leaving any footprints. Also, that means she can go faster and not have to worry about falling. 

She rushes a corner and almost takes out an older man walking his dog, so, of course, she has to stop and profusely apologize.

“It’s fine, dear,” he chuckles.

She pats his friendly Labrador on the head. “Are you sure?” She looks him over, and he seems okay. Her memory says she ran smack dab into his frail frame, but maybe it’s just her psychosis acting up again. 

“I’m alright, dear, where is your coat? Your skin is ice cold.”

“Oh, I left it at home, just going for a jog,” she replies, trying to be casual. 

His fluffy dog pushes a wet nose into her hand and nuzzles her out of more attention.

“This is Sam,” the older man introduces. “He is very friendly.”

“He’s amazing,” she says, using both hands to stroke blonde, cold fur. 

“Are you training for a marathon?” The man asks. “I hear there’s a big one by Macy’s next week.” 

“No. Just exercising.” She smiles up at him, wondering how to politely break this conversation off and save her own ass. 

Behind him, about half a block down, is her pursuer and teacher.

It would be better if he looked disappointed. So, so much better. 

Her hand stills on Sam’s head. 

That expression would be a glare if his mouth wasn’t pulled up at the seams. His eyes of brilliant brown are blown black. Like a shark. No, too intentional to be a shark - it isn’t pure hunger that drives him. 

Gotcha.

Fear is the only thing she’s capable of feeling for a couple of seconds as she forgets what, exactly, is going on while an instinctual and ancient part of her remembers what it’s like to be hunted.

She’s going to feel really bad, later, about turning away from a nice man and his dog without so much as a goodbye and sprinting the opposite direction.

That trepidation just coils tighter the more she runs. She wasn’t built for this. Her legs are too short, her body too pillowy to gain any sort of momentum, her lungs too small for the air required in running. 

It’s nothing but luck and adrenaline carrying her down crossroads and alleys. 

She spares a glance behind her, and almost feels like she’s winning when she doesn’t see John. 

It’s because he’s in front of her. 

At the end of the gravelly side street, lounging lazily on the wall. 

Michael fucking Meyers, that’s what this reminds her of. You never see him moving, but somehow he’s always catching up to you. 

She almost falls again when turning around to dash the other way, but manages to keep a shaky, vertical grip on earth.

John surpasses her, the easy stride of his legs infuriating, and plants himself in her path so that she runs smack into his chest. 

There’s no time to get away. He already has her biceps gripped tight. 

She winces, writhes, glower resembling more of a pout. 

“When you run,” he says, kissing her head with a soft mouth that contradicts his hard grip. “You zigzag. Go every direction. Never in a straight line. Never predictably. You have to not think about where you’re going, but focus wholly on your destination.”

“Helpful tips that I should have known earlier?” She tries, grinning dryly.

He chuckles. “If I just tell you, you won’t learn. Which reminds me: Let’s take you home and get you warm. I owe you some merciless tickling, don’t I?”

“I was hoping you’d forget,” she groans. “Second chance?” 

“You’ll get plenty of chances,” he assures, leading her back to where she came with a big arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm.

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

ADHD CURTIS BROTHERS HCS PLEASEEEEE 🙏

YESSS I FUCK WITH THIS HEAVY

Ponyboy

pony's most apparent symptom is his inattentiveness. his head is always up in the clouds, and he spends a looot of time daydreaming

very very very forgetful, mostly about his own needs. he'll go days without brushing his teeth if darry doesn't remind him

pony has a bad habit of zoning out while looking directly at people, so they just look over and his eyes are like wide and glazed over and staring into their souls. it especially freaks steve out for some reason. "QUIT STARING AT ME LIKE THAT!!" "huh?"

he can't get himself to do his homework in a timely manner. he works best under pressure and so he'll just procrastinate it until the night before it's due and then he locks in

when he does lock in like that, he's practically dead to the world. bro forgets to eat and drink and move his body for like hours at a time until darry or soda makes him get up and he's just like "ow. ow. ow. everything hurts"

he's still hyperactive though and it drives darry crazy sometimes. when he's with the rest of the gang is when it really spikes, and he'll start running all around the house with them. darry can tell though when he needs to get his energy out because he'll just start following darry around the house and bounce around or drum his fingers on every single thing he can. when he gets like that, darry will ask him if he wants to go for a run or play football or smthn so that he can get his energy out

bro WILL hyper fixate on every single thing he's interested in, his consistent ones are books and movies, but sometimes he'll just spend hours a day thinking about one specific book or drawing one character from the latest movie he's seen

it's always a 50/50 on whether he's going to have lots of fun or get super overstimulated in different places. like in grocery stores, after a half hour he's ready to start crying and he'll usually just get quiet and not leave darry's side until they leave. but he thrives in other places like fairs and festivals, and enjoys the bright lights and loud music

he doesn't have great control over his temper. he gets frustrated super easily and will get snappy over the smallest things, but almost every time without fail it ends with him crying and feeling bad

Sodapop

this man may just be the most hyperactive person ever

he will NOT stay in one place for more than five minutes at a time. he's always running around the house, and when he does stay in one spot, he's shaking/bouncing his leg the entire time

like pony though, he gets his moments where he locks in and they're the only times that he doesn't break focus no matter what. he'll go from talking nonstop to just being dead silent as he tries to fix something on a car at work and it freaks steve out

he's so bad with rejection :( even if it's something as small as someone saying they don't like his favorite car, or they're not in the mood to talk about horses, he'll get so sad and feel like his interests are stupid

he cries a lot no matter what he's feeling. if he gets frustrated, angry, or scared, he'll start crying and his energy goes through the roof

soda is easily the most forgetful person any of the gang has ever met. he'll forget what day it is, to put shoes on, to take food out of the oven, everything. it's mostly a short-term memory issue. however, his memory will be really good for oddly specific things. steve: "remember that time I got a cold or something in like elementary school and-" "oh yeah that tuesday in october in first grade when you were wearing that red shirt and you kept sneezing during story time :)" "why do you remember that??" "I dunno"

when he gets overstimulated it's BAD. it doesn't happen often, but when it does, he'll break down in tears and refuse to speak to anyone. darry's the only one who can ever calm him down

he stims a lot, usually by playing with the hair on the back of his neck or rubbing whatever shirt he's wearing

Darry

although it may not be as obvious, darry's also on the hyperactive side. he loves football, running, swimming, anything that's high intensity and lets him get his energy out. when he doesn't have a chance to do those things, he'll usually just pace around or do a quick workout

he will drum his fingers every single time he's thinking, he's even worse than pony with it. and if he has a pen in his hand, you better believe he's clicking it nonstop. the amount of dirty looks he got in school for it was crazy

even though he gets on pony for it a lot, darry also zones out a lot. he's usually better at hiding it though, like people will be having full conversations with him and they don't realize that he was zoned out the whole time until they ask him something and he just goes "huh?"

his biggest hyper fixation has always been football. he could talk for hours and hours about any player, team, or game if someone lets him

he did great in school, but he always had to find obscure ways of remembering things for tests and quizzes, he especially did a lot of those acronym things. whenever someone asked him how he did something or remembered something, he would explain his weird system and they would be even more confused

this poor man cannot cope without a schedule. that's a part of the reason why he gets so bothered when pony isn't home at the right time, because it throws off his schedule and then his whole day is ruined

whenever he reads, he can only focus if he sort of murmurs the words the whole time, and he almost always plays with the edges of the paper to keep his focus

when he gets overstimulated, he gets snappy and loud and doesn't want a single person to touch or talk to him

he's big on vocal stims. he hums or mumbles to himself or makes random noises whenever he's trying to focus on something

[whorefordaemon]

Anon asked: Imagine daemon and daughter fucking and getting caught by criston cole. How would they react?

The pious holier than thou guy would lose his fucking mind!

How dare they engage in such depravity?! How dare she break her marriage vows that she made in front of the Faith of the Seven?!

He'd not be able to stop himself, just barge in the room and startle the pair.

Daemon immediately pulls out of her and she screams out, going to hide behind her father and trying to right her dress.

Daemon stands in front of his daughter, ready to protect her from this raging fool. He's still hard, his blood pumping in his veins, making him all the more violent for being unable to finish inside his daughter.

"Ser Crispin, to what do we owe this visit?" He asked nonchalantly, as if he and his daughter hadn't been committing treason just now.

The man's hands were shaking, eyes wide open as he pointed at them. He seemed to be choking on his breath trying to even say what he and his daughter engaged in almost daily.

His daughter, precious little girl, came to stand beside him. Her eyes wide and yet she smirked, looking so much like him then. "Ser Criston, I didn't realize I was making so much noise. Did I disturb your slumber?" She asked him, her tone one of mockery.

Daemon laughed, loud and sharp before looking at his daughter. "Oh! Well then, off you go. We'll be quieter in the future. Promise?" His arms snaked around his daughter's waist, pulling her to himself.

His tunic was still open and his breeches still unlaced. The soft silk shift she had on did nothing to hide his hardness from her back.

She instinctively leaned back into him, soft moans escaping her as she felt his throbbing cock so close to her cunt. She wanted him so bad!

"You two! Have you no shame?! You..You are married! With children! Father have mercy on my soul! What have I witnessed?!" His incoherent babbling was getting on Daemon's nerves.

"Yes you saw us fucking. You saw my cock sheathed inside her warm cunt. Yes we Targaryens have queer customs. There, I said it for you." Daemon snapped, his hard on was getting painful and being unable to satiate himself on his daughter was making him angry.

"Now, I shouldn't have to explain why literally no one will believe you and you'd only end up getting your sad little head put upon a spike for even daring to accuse me or my daughter." Daemon told the trembling knight who he could tell was burning with rage. "So just calm down and go the way you came."

"You think I'll just sit back and let this.. this depravity continue?!" His eyes were wild and Daemon wondered if he was going to pass out.

"And what do you suppose you can do?" His daughter asked, pouting as she held his hand and slowly rubbed herself on him. "I'm not going to stop. My blood is too hot and only my Kepa can help me. You can watch if you want." She bit her lip to hide her smirk at the last words.

Daemon's grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her even closer, their bodies grinding together. He groaned. "Yes, perhaps he could watch. Ser Crispin?" He looked over at the knight who had gone stiff.

He let out short puffs of breath as he tried to contain his horror. This kind of sin will not go unpunished! He won't let it! He wouldn't let such sinners continue to live and plague the world!

His hand was reaching for his sword as Daemon began to reach for Darksister left by the side of the bed, pushing his daughter behind him again.

His eyes no longer danced with amusement but cold, ruthless anger. Did this cunt from no where think he could draw blade upon his daughter?

"The last time we fought, you attacked me from the back. I never repeat my mistakes." Daemon warned but before things could get worse, his daughter stepped closer to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to herself.

"No! You will not waste your blood on this mongrel! You were here to please me and that's what we'll do now." She sounded so much like a stubborn toddler sometimes.

She then turned to the knight. "And you! Begone! Any more of your continued presence and I'll scream. I call the guards and nobles and shout about how you tried to force yourself onto me." Her eyes were cold, so much like his. No shame. Nor remorse could be found.

"Ah! How dare some lowly peasant think he'd get away with touching royalty? A dragon no less?" Daemon smirked, knowing it was about Rhaenyra as well as his daughter.

"Away with you, now!" Daemon moved, grabbing him by the arm and throwing him out of his daughter's quarters.

Crispin fell on the floor, his white cloak dirtied and eyes burning with fury. But at this moment, without his precious Queen to save him, he was helpless.

He glared. Using his eyes to convey his hatred for the vile, depraved man. For his spoiled cunt of a daughter.

Daemon barely even looked at him as he went back into his daughters chambers, shutting the door behind him. On Criston's face.

Soon, soft moans and groans were heard from inside the chambers.

They hadn't even waited to make sure he left. They didn't even attempt to be quiet!

[mothiir]

Absolutely love the way you're writing 30k Lion. Absolutely Zero Rizz on this man, only instinct. Need more of him some how not fumbling the bag on a baddie and being a feral ass space knight man.

Awww thank you! I love him. Here is more zero rizz all instinct . Warning this is quite literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever written

Cw: the lion doesn’t understand female biology

He inches himself in, finally -- finally -- hot and sweet and tight and so so good. By the sword of the Emperor Himself -- the Lion didn’t think anything could feel so good. Pressure all around him, clinging, sucking him in deeper and deeper and --

The head of his cock spikes against something solid; you yowl in pain, crumpling under him, burying your face deeper into the pillow. He frowns, pulls out an inch, and tries to ram himself back in. He’s not all the way inside yet, and he has to be, he has to be. 

Once again, he smacks against the obstruction; your squeal of pain echoes once more, your little feet drumming on the mattress. You flatten yourself against his bed, trying your best to wrangle yourself away from him. His brow furrows, and he catches your head -- one hand mantling your whole scalp -- and yanks your face up so you can answer his questions. 

“Open up for me,” he orders, pushing back in, very -- very -- careful as he grinds himself in slow deliberate circles, the head of his cock pressing against that unyielding tissue, his thighs tense to stop his full body weight crashing down on you. You whimper. 

“I am -- I am -- “

“You’re not. I want to be all the way inside -- you’re stopping me --”

“Tha -- tha -- do you not know what that is?” you stammer, lashes wet and mouth swollen and red. He wants to kiss you. He wants to bite your lips clean off your face. 

He growls. 

“It’s -- it’s my cervix. It’s -- you can’t open it, it stops my womb uh -- falling out.”

This does not sound quite correct, but he does not know all of the intricacies of female biology -- why would he learn it? He does not need to know about the innards of human women, not really; only how easily they die, when they defy him or his Father. 

Apart from now -- now he does. The gap in his knowledge is a thorn under his skin, and he does not want to acknowledge it.  He scrounges through his memory, unearths something that Luther told him, back in the shadowed days of their youth. When I take someone to bed….

“Luther never mentioned a cervix. He said --” What was it? “He said you take it slowly, open them on your fingers, use lubrication if need be. That you look for a special little nub inside that makes the whole process more enjoyable.”

“...inside? Uh. So. Uh -- “

The Lion thrusts again, and you squall. 

“--are you sure Luther was talking about women?”

“What do you mean?” the Lion says, licking over your sweat-glossed shoulders, irritated at the conversation, and yet…by the forest, he likes hearing your voice. 

“It sounds like Luther was, uh. Talking about fucking men -- ow!”

“Why would he do that?”

“Maybe because he likes fucking -- ow --”

Your voice is adorable, but your little pleas and moans are even better. Besides: he does not want to talk about his brother when he’s buried inside you. Luther taking men to bed? No concern of his. Just like this is no concern of yours. Cervix be damned, he’ll work out something around it. Foolish human biology. 

[ravennaortiz]

Please more Coco ( my soul is lost to this man) with 6. Are you afraid of me? , 16. Your scars are beautiful, 22. Make me, 32. You’re mine, 38. Beg.( Sorry if there’s a max on prompts but I think they work well together for something super smutty 😇.)

Welcome back Love!!! I can def get you some more Coco!( No prompt limit, feel free to put in as many as your heart desires!). As Always 18+.

Scars

Coco sat watching you as you made drinks behind the bar and chatted with EZ. The two of you had seemed to be building something but whenever he seemed to get to close you darted away. He assumed it wasn't the biker image since you kept coming around the clubhouse. So he figured it was him. Granted he had a reputation but he had never hurt a woman.

You could feel Coco's eyes on you from across the clubhouse. You knew you owed him an explanation about the other night when you two had been making out on the hood of your car. Embarrassment of that night had you dropping the beer in your hand.

"Your suppose to be helping me not making my life harder" teased EZ as he playfully smacked your arm with the towel he had been drying glasses with. "I can leave if you want?" you replied with a raised brow as you moved to pick up the glass. Before EZ could respond Coco's voice rang out. "Yo Boy Scout! Quit flirting and start working" called Coco his jealousy getting the best of him.

"I'm going to pop outside for a bit" you whispered a few minutes later as you gently touched EZ's shoulder. Once he nodded you grabbed your jacket and a beer and headed out the door. Once outside you inhaled the fresh, cool night air. You were lost in your own thoughts when you felt someone grab your arm.

"Are you afraid of me? Is that why you took off and are flirting with EZ? questioned Coco as he turned you to face him.

"What?" you questioned as your brow furrowed at the insanity of both questions. Coco took a breath and repeated himself.

"No, I'm not afraid of you Coco" you replied with a shake of your head. "Granted you did just grab me in the middle of the night but I put that to poor judgment. Same as saying I was flirting with EZ. We both know he's not my type" you replied with a easy laugh.

Coco couldn't help but let out a sigh of relieve and a laugh of his own. "Fair enough" he replied as he let your arm go but didn't move back away from you. "So you wanna tell me what I did wrong the other night that had you running for the hills?" he asked cautiously his eyes searching yours.

You bit your lower lip as you considered his question. This was inevitable and would have to be talked about sometime. "Things were getting a bit too real and shit. I have...I have" you started before you stopped trying to find the right words.

"If your going to say dick. I'm fine with that" offered Coco making you laugh. "No. Its not a dick" you replied with an eye roll.

"I have some pretty ugly scars and its hard to be... intimate.... with them and feel comfortable in my skin" you replied quietly your eyes looking anywhere but at him now.

"The word ugly should never come out of your pretty mouth. Especially not about this art piece" murmured Coco as he ran his hands down your sides and onto your hips as he pulled you closer. "You should let me show you how your scars are beautiful" he continued as his lips ghosted your neck sending spikes of pleasure through your body.

Feeling emboldened by the hands and lips ghosting over your body you ran your hands under his shirt as you replied. "Make me Coco".

Twenty minutes later the two of you were naked in his bed as his fingers, lips and teeth paint hot trails along your skin. You squirm and whimper as he licks along the raised purple scar that runs under your right breast as his fingers skim between your wet folds.

Coco smiles into your skin as he dips two fingers into you, slowly pushing them up into that sweet spot making you clamp around them. "So fucking beautiful" he murmurs as he kisses the jagged scar that runs down the center of your abdomen. You could feel your orgasm start to build when he abruptly pulled his fingers from you.

"Patience" murmured Coco as he kissed his way back up you body until he was hovering over you. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance and raised your hips slightly. "Nah Mama" scolded Coco as he pushed your hips firmly back down. "You're mine now. Only good girls get this" he stated as he leaned back and teased you by rubbing his head through your wet folds. "Beg" he ordered gently as his lust blown pupils found yours.

"Please fuck me Coco." you pleaded as you pouted. Coco shot you a smirk as he quickly slid himself completely into you making you both moan. Coco grunted as he gripped your hips firmly, pounding in and out of you. All you could do was moan and take it as Coco held you in place beneath him. Without warning Coco hooked your right leg up onto his shoulder making you clench tighter around him. He smirked as he watched your eyes roll back and mouth fall open in a silent scream. "Be a good girl and cum" ordered Coco as his fingers moved between the two of you to pinch your clit.

Within seconds his name was falling from your lips as your body released around him and your body spasmed uncontrollably. Coco thrusted into you a few more times before pouring out his own release as your body milked him. Coco slumped down on top of you as you both panted.

His hands traced along your scars as his lips found yours. "So beautiful" he whispered as he pulled back slightly.

Want more Coco? Click here

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[raven--stag]

Sooo... Um. "Fool for love" huh.

I wish my brain was functioning properly right now so I could write a fucking doctoral thesis about how absolutely BRILLIANT this episode is. However, it left me curled up on the floor shaking and crying, unable to put words together in a sentence that would make sense to anyone but me. So, yeah. What a fucking episode!?

As a side note, the fact that btvs writers clearly could write something of such quality but didn't /couldn't makes me really fucking sad. Because nothing in this show prior to this episode made me so feral and I feel like they missed out on a lot of opportunities to make their show this special.

A bit of incoherent thoughts because I just need to put it somewhere: something about Spike saying "I've always been bad" and them cutting to him being nice and kind and polite and gentle. Something about them telling us that demons are just shells of humans with no emotions or anything underneath. And then showing us bits and pieces of human Spike that he somehow got to keep? (like that parallel between vamp Spike saying "ow ow ow" as Buffy beats him up and human Spike saying the same thing as Dru draines him). Don't get me wrong he's a fucking asshole but he's capable of decency (if not kindness) and he's still as cringe as he was before he grew out a shiny pair of fangs. And him KNEELING BEFORE BUFFY as he tells her the secret of her mortality (crappy screenshot attached because I can't get it out of my head)

And him being unable to kill her and being the only person that kept her company in THAT moment.

There's more things but my brain is all mushy and I literally can't think straight.