#if you’re not black SHUT THE FUCK UP this is NOT your point to argue or hill to die on

[anakinsdove]

Sub sam monroe x fem friends hot older sister ❔

𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 | 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞

pairing: sam monroe x older!fem!reader

summary: it’s been like what? 6 years since you saw sammy, he’s still as weird as he used to be, only prettier. After seeing him again you notice there some tension that wasn’t there before.

c/w: nsfw, loser Sammy, blowjob

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 1,352

“What’s that for?” You ask your little rat of a brother why he’s suddenly carrying enough snacks to throw a party.

“Sam is coming over, he’s going to spend the night here” Your brother says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Who?” “Sam” he rolls his eyes “Oh! Sammy, blonde, walks weird?” “Yes…” he’s slightly confused at your description then he realizes you haven’t seen Sam in a while…. A long while?

“He dyed his hair” your brother ads “Seriously?” You say sarcastically clearly faking interest trying to find something worth watching on tv “And he walks normally” “I’m sure he does”

“Anyways aren’t you a little bit too old for sleepovers?” Your condescending tone is very annoying to your brother but that’s what sisters do. “Aren’t you too old for Halloween?” “Huh?” Your brother smirks pointing at your makeup, you respond by throwing the pillow on the couch with enough force it feels like a brick, he runs upstairs

“coward” you mutter to yourself and suddenly someone’s knocking on the door

Someone’s knocking extremely loud

You decide to ignore it as you keep painting your nails but the knocking is very persistent and it gets louder somehow accidentally painting your toe “fucking loser” you curse under your breathe and stand up walking furiously towards the door.

“What!?” Your tone is harsh and the boy takes a step back, Sam looks stupid as he makes sure he’s in the right house “I-is James here?”

“Sam?” You ask softly this time, your anger quickly dissipating from your features, eyeing him up and down… wow.

“Hi Y/N”

You open the door for him to come in as he awkwardly goes through the door, he tries to keep his hips as far he can from yours while walking in, you sigh at the awkward silence

“How have you been-“ “You look very different-“ both of you say at the same time “You look the same” he says “I looks twelve?” God you’re making fun of him

Hes about to answer when your brother comes down running from the stairs “Sorry dude I was taking a shit!” He greets him as you stand aside

“Don’t talk to her Sam” your brother says smirking “Shut up man” they run upstairs and you shrug trying to shake the awkwardness away

You keep trying to distract yourself with tv but it isn’t fucking working

Sam Monroe….

He looked so different from what you remembered, he’s taller, there’s a lot of piercings stuff on his face and you’re pretty sure he was wearing eyeshadow.. his hair now it’s black… funny because you remembered him being blonde and looking like a puppet, you giggle at the thought… Oh! and his clothes, he was wearing a Metallica t shirt, Vintage….

You moan and you realize you been rubbing your clit through your panties this whole time then gasping in embarrassment and closing your legs

What a slut… what if someone saw you rubbing your cloth on your living room, that would be a reason to kill yourself, what if Sam saw you like that?… that however doesn’t sound as bad

Control yourself Y/n

A few hours later the sun has set… you succeeded distracting yourself and as soon as Sam leaves you won’t have to see him again you’ll forget this awkward chapter in your life where you masturbated to the thought of your younger brother’s friend until… “Why me man!?” “Cause I’m about to win this level” “Youre shit at the game” “Shut up!” you hear the boys arguing upstairs “It’s just fucking popcorn Sam” your brother mocks him as Sam sighs coming down the stairs

You can’t help but look up at him “Hey” Sam stops midway “Hey” he tries to sound and look relaxed, but when did your boobs get so big?

“Pop corn?” You asks pointing at the box he’s holding in his hand “I’ll burn them” he says

“It’ll be my brothers fault” you laugh and Sam smiles “C’mon” you guide him to the kitchen and put the popcorn in the stove “You look very different too” he responds to your earlier conversation, you smirk at the opportunity of teasing “Really? I thought I looked twelve” “Fuck no” he suppresses a laugh and you nod playfully “Well, maybe a little” “Fuck off” you push him playfully and his back makes contact with the counter “You still have your dimples when you smile” your heart actually softens at his comment “You don’t look like a puppet anymore” he rolled his eyes “I meant that in some ways you look the same but in other- other ways you look very different” he stares at you collarbone

“Sam?” You take a step forward “It’s mean to look at girls boobs when they’re talking” he freezes “I was not-“ you grab his bicep “I always knew you liked me” Sam is really about to die or kill himself, whatever is option is quicker… instead he grabs your waits and pulls you to him then freezes again “You want to kiss me Sammy?” His gaze switches from your eyes to your lips, to your boobs that look so good in that thank top, then your lips again, his lips hesitantly meet you in a clumsy kiss… but then you find out he’s so hungry for this, teeth clatter and he hums into your mouth, his hands shaking as he holds your waist…. You pull away teasingly as he tries to chase your lips but you have other plans like kissing his neck

“Fuck” he moans, his little sound has you clenching your thighs, you need this boy asap…as you nibble and suck his neck then pulling away again “Sam” “What?” He says breathlessly

“Can I suck you off?” WHAT THE FUCK he nodds shakily and you get on your knees “J-James?” Sam’s says as he watches you unbuckle his belt “Don’t talk about my fucking brother when I’m going to give you a blowjob” “Sorry..” “He’s playing, he wont find out.” You try to reassure this poor boy as he nods shakily “I promise” you unzip his pants and take his boxers down urgently, it’s too much, you hear the popcorn popping, heavy breathe, the waves crashing distantly… his cock slapped against his stomach… Sam looks down at you in awe

You start stroking him, watching the angry red tip leaking already, “w-wait wait I’m gonna c-cum” Sam warns virgins you think to yourself and force yourself to stop stroking him, if he’s gonna fucking cum he’s cumming down your throath tonight “fine” you say angrily and take him down your throat “Fuck!” Sam moans as his shaky hand tangles in your hair pushing you down further “I can’t I can’t I’m sorry” his eyes roll back and his back arches, your wet lips wrapping around his thick cock…. Sucking him sloppy it’s just so much

He doesn’t know why god is on his side tonight but he’s not complaining, he beats himself mentally, he seeing stars, fireworks exploding behind his eyes and all that cringy shit he once heard, now he knows it’s real, he feels your tongue massaging the underside of his cock and you make something with your tongue where it licks at his balls slightly and-

“Fuck!” He yells as he cums…. Thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throath, he tastes salty…

Your doe eyes look up at him seductively as you keep licking his tip, his legs tremble as he spasms, he has to push you away so he doesn’t pass out

You finally release his cock from your mouth “breathe Sammy….” “Fuck sorry I-“ his breathe is heavy “Shhh….” You kiss his lips softly so he tastes his own cum…..

“You’re sleeping here right?” He nodds

“Come to my room at 2:00 AM” he nodds again and you know this boy is completely at your mercy

“Oh and Sammy….. your popcorn” you point to the stove and evident smoke “Shit!” Sam runs and trips over his pants, pulling them up quickly and trying to not burn your damn house.

masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers - @i92-93

(Im very sorry for the absence! I been pretty much busy and a little unmotivated to write but I’ll try to post another fic this week, this was a little bit rushed but I hope you like it)

@anakinsbbgirl

#sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x you #sam monroe smut #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe hayden christensen #sam monroe life as a house #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen characters #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen

[freshbeeth]

case in fucking point

#found this on twitter #this isn’t even a caricature (that i know of) it’s just fucking stupid #all on THEE DARKEST skintone #and oh look! three of them have red eyes!! #before you ask. no they are not #like this isn’t representing an oc or a character this is just to be stupid and annoying #as like? a weird joke? #not including their @ bc i don’t want anyone to harass them #but wow lol #i can’t read japanese so idk if their splashtag titles suck too but. either way! #this sucks! don’t do this! #‘but they’re just—‘ i DO NOT CARE #STOP USING MELANATED SKIN TONES AS A JOKE OR A BIT #if you’re not black SHUT THE FUCK UP this is NOT your point to argue or hill to die on #i’m probably the only black person you will encounter in your day-to-day so just LISTEN #splatoon #splatoon 3 #squidposting

[lustytears]

Be Quiet

no plot. just fucking tom marvolo riddle like there’s no tomorrow

afab!reader x tom riddle

2.2k words

warnings: SMUT. tongue play, blood kink, biting, spit kink, female receiving, p in v, wrap it b4 u tap it, public sex (in a school), hair pulling, unspecified house reader, shit i can’t think of bc i didn’t rlly proof read it, but it’s for you guys.

haven’t wrote anything in a hot minute so forgive me. first time seriously posting on tumblr. this was actually supposed to be a draco malfoy smut but i just switched it around mid-way when i was thinking of my best friend, who’s completely obsessed with this diary horcrux of voldemort just like me.

i will try and post a master list or something, give me time please.

You sat in your desk, pissed at how you were in this situation in the first place. It all happened because of Tom Riddle, who started arguing with you in the middle of potions—which you inevitably swore at him. Both of you were sent to detention to not only calm the both of yourselves, but for the disrespect and dishonor brought to Hogwarts. You were a good student, if anything a well-respected one at the most. It made you feel embarrassed knowing that you were “disorderly” but you couldn’t help but bite your tongue and put your foot down when it came to Tom Riddle. His smart remarks, his quiet demeanor, his attitude; all of it made me you want to pull at him, perhaps make him realize that he’s nothing to you.

He sat at his desk, both of your desks close between the both of you. “Would you stop?” He bore his eyes into you like daggers. His voice full of personal annoyance.

You placed your pen down, huffing. “How about you shut the fuck up, Riddle? It’s the only damn thing you’re good for anyways,” you crossed your legs, irritation came with your tone. You felt mad—perhaps upset at the fact that you were in this situation with him in the first place. He’s so fucking-

“I promise you,” he said with assurance. “I’m gonna make you regret everything you think. Every nasty glance, every remark.” Tom said, and the feeling of anger filled your head.

“Like I give a shit?” You held yourself back from laughing. “You’re actually so intolerable to be around that it makes me mad,” you hissed. “Fucking dog.” You fixed your black stalkings, the feeling of them rolling up at your thighs bothered you.

Who the fuck was she? With THAT tone? I don’t think so.

“You’re nothing to anyone, Y/N. You’re annoying, deranged, pissy, and disrespectful,” he leaned closer into your side, rubbing it into your face.

“And you’re obsessed,” you shot back at him. Your chest was stiff, but you inhaled. Your fists balled up, your face red.

“Half-bloods like you make me sick. You can’t ever give up, can you?” He smirked. “You love the attention. Fuck, it wouldn’t surprise me if you loved this. It’s your only way to get off, frantically throwing pointless insults at me?” He got up, walked to your desk. “I know you’re aroused. Aroused by the attention of a man noticing you for merely one second.”

“Oh, you fucking stupid b-“ He noticed you playing with your skirt. He pointed to it.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” his eyebrows raised with confidence. “You adore this moment.”

You launched forward, getting up from your seat where you previously sat. The desk was discarded and moved as you pushed it away when you got up. You backed him up into the nearest wall, your hands gripped his throat. Chokes and whines of disbelief came out of his mouth as you strained your hands on him. His eyes were half-closed, expecting some sort of offensive reaction to come from you.

“I fucking hate you. I hate your stupid, little arrogant, no good influence— I want to kill you, Riddle-“

He gasped, not expecting this sort of reaction to come from you. The last thing he’d expect is for you to actually come after him. “Y/N…”

Your hands were still, but the grasp was firm. His warm neck and erratically beating pulse made your hands shiver. You longed for this moment for years, but you let go. Apologies followed after your hands dropped to your sides. His brown eyes dropped to the floor, his mouth silent as the glooming atmosphere filled the both of you up.

“I-I’m sorry, Tom… I didn’t mean that,” your hands came to both sides of his cheeks. One hand drooped to his neck, caressing the spot where you held onto him for too long. His hand came up to his cheek, holding onto your wrist for a moment.

“What for?” The words shocked you. You didn’t expect Tom Riddle to be so… forgiving? He pulled you closer to him, lingering into your eyes for one moment too long. He dangerously held your hips, and by dangerously, his grasp was way too tight for you. As a result, the muscles in his hands flexed. You took notice of this, tilting your head back up to him, but this time, his lips were what you were looking at.

“You know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you paused for a moment. “I’m sorry I took it too far. I-I should’ve realized you were uncomfortable.” His eyes stuck to you, watching your every slight breath as you hyperventilated, your chest quickly raising up and down. “I’m realizing how terribly I’ve treated y-“

His lips met yours. Starved. He switched spots with you, quickly turning you around too fast for you to notice. He backed you up into the wall, pushing you up against him and you only. Your eyes shot open for a second, bewildered and feeling like you were on a high you’ve never expected. His delicate touch made your eyes close with satisfaction. You knew this is what you wanted. After all, he could’ve chosen anyone—you were special.

Every movement, you felt your tongue desperately fighting with his. He picked you up, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist. He sat you down on the desk, his lips moving down to your neck. Your shaky breaths made him chuckle. “How needy?” He asked, rhetorically.

He leaned to your stomach, this time, moving closer down to your pelvic area. You pulled at him., tugging his hair. “What if somebody comes in?” “Nobody’s coming in,” he whispered a quick locking spell, and you heard the doorknob jiggle and lock.

“Be quiet for me, and maybe, just maybe, I won’t despise you so much.” You nodded, allowing him to move closer and closer to your skirt. He pulled up your skirt, noting the dark-colored underwear that was now prized in front of him. He ripped your stalkings with his hands, tearing the nylon off as it hung around your thighs. He pulled your underwear aside, his index finger moving it to the opposite side of your leg. You breathed heavily, waiting for him to touch you. He stared at you, like you were a possession he gladly owned. His calloused fingers took a swipe of your pussy, carefully analyzing how your arousal felt on his fingers and stuck to them when he parted his index and middle finger.

“I’d bet galleons this is how you constantly felt around me, isn’t it?” You stared blankly, feeling like you were lost in your own thoughts. He touched your clit, quickly making your thighs shiver and jerk. You looked down at him, where his eyes met yours. You felt special. He made quick moves with your clit, rubbing it with his thumb as he saw how your eyes squeezed shut. He played with you, teasing as his other fingers played with your entrance, dipping in and out. He plunged both fingers in, desperately finding your g-spot as he pulled them back and forth between your entrance.

“Y-yeah, this—this is how I’ve thought of you. Fuck!” You exclaimed. He smirked, going at you with a much faster pace. His fingers made quick work of you, showing how talented he was considering he was making you feel this good only with his fingers.

“I.. I think-“ You moaned, loudly. He stopped, pulling his fingers out of you and his thumb stopped rubbing your clit. You pouted, begging for attention.

“If you’re not going be quiet, I’d advise you to pull your panties right back and your skirt down, and to shut the fuck up,” he said, emotionless. You were confused.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Tom… Please, fuck me. Okay? I promise- I promise I’ll be very good for you. Only you,” you pleaded, begging for him to continue.

He entered his fingers right back in. He fucked you at a much faster pace, squelchy noises emitted from the friction he was making as he continued fucking you at a speed that wasn’t known well to you. It was like he knew your body. You covered your mouth, holding it tightly as your legs wrapped against him. He pulled his fingers out, leaning in as his tongue substituted his fingers. He rubbed your clit in circles with his tongue, lapping up all of your juices. His hands grasped your thighs tightly as your legs wrapped around his head. Your back arched, rubbing against him for release.

Without a warning, he asked, “Cum for me, darling.” His tongue moved at a faster pace, licking your entrance as it quickly entered in you, eating your pussy out.

“Oh my God…” You exhaled, releasing all over his face. It didn’t take him long to use his tongue to lick all of your pleasure up. You moaned as he overstimulated you, licking you clean. “So fucking perfect,” he praised you. His jaw flexed, his eyes filled with pleasure.

He got up, off of his knees. “What are you doing?” You asked him, watching him unbuckle his pants uniform, unzipping his pants. He took his boxer waistline, taking both of his pants and his boxers right off. His cock sprung to his chest. His tip leaked with pre-cum. You eyed his cock, imagining how his girth would feel violating your walls.

“What’s that? You want me to violate your walls with my cock?” He exclaimed, chucking as your eyes widened with both fear and euphoria.

“Spit in my hand. Now.” You obeyed, a wad of spit pooled the middle of his palm. He moved his hand to his cock, lubing his cock with your saliva. He smirked, watching your legs widen and your pussy glisten with the mix of his tongue residue and your arousal. He continued jerking his cock, placing a hand on your thigh, the other hand guiding his cock to your entrance. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down, noting how your legs tensed.

“Don’t be tense.… Let me pleasure you.”His hand touched your face carefully, moving down to your shirt. He fidgeted your buttons, unbuttoning your blouse and throwing it aside as he exposed your bra. Visioning how your tits would look, he quickly unbuttoned your bra, then moving your skirt and pulling it off. You helped him out, hopping off the table and doing the same by taking off his shirt, unbuttoning his uniform. You touched his tone body, admiring his chest.

Quickly, he turned you around, bending you over the desk. He leaned against you, lining his cock up to your entrance. He stuck his cock into you, causing your mouth to part an ‘o’. His movements became quick and aggressive, moving into you at a fast pace. You tried suppressing your moans, but he pulled your hair, yanking it back. It allowed him to continuously fuck your g-spot perfectly, making your grip on the desk turn your knuckles white. He pounded into you at an unforgivable pace, the sounds of skin contact made it unbearable—impossible, you noted. There was no way anybody couldn’t hear this.

“Fuck, you’re so.. so good,” you moaned, his hand tight, yanking your hair. Tears stained your cheeks from the combination pleasure of his cock ruining your walls and his hand pulling your hair towards him.

He violently snapped his hips into you. He took the opportunity to kiss your bare and exposed neck, biting down on your shoulder as he claimed you.

“Nobody’s going to fuck you the same. Nobody’s gonna love you the same. I’m going to be the one you think of when you dare touch yourself on those dark, dim nights alone. You’ll remember this moment like it’s the last thing you’ll ever think of. I am your permanent memoria.” He saw the dark mark on your neck, and he bit it again, piercing his teeth through your skin. You cried out, tears streaming down your face. Blood pooled, causing him to smile. He licked your shoulder like your blood was candy to him.

His hip movements became more unfocused, coming close to a sign that he was near to cumming right inside of you. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into you.

“I’m going to fucking- Cum-“ And like that, he released right inside of you. The hot liquid filled your inside as he pushed his cock to your cervix, painting your deepest points white with his cum.

You fell limp. He took notice of it, and took his now once erect cock out of you. He helped you get dressed, before noticing your stalkings were completely torn. He grabbed his wand, casting a spell that would fix your broken nylon stalkings. You thanked him with tired eyes, completely exhausted from pain and pleasure. He got dressed, fixing his belt as he kept an eye on you. He carefully unlocked the door, speeding over towards you to grab you, carrying your frail body into his arms. He kissed your forehead, walking through the empty halls to his Slytherin house, coldly staring at any suspecting and confused individuals who stared at the both of you with daggers, then to his room. He opened the door, placing you on the bed. He unraveled the cover, pulling it over you completely to keep you warm. Your eyes shut, head turned to the opposite side of him.

“Sleep well, beauty.”

#tom riddle #smut #tom riddle smut #voldemort #harry potter #harry potter smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fluff #fluff #aftercare #Spotify

[devourable]

Do you have smut hcs for the delinquents with an oral fixation darling? Outside of sex, they're playfully nipping the boys or giving plenty of kisses! Darling could be getting dicked down within an inch of their life but they'll whine if they aren't sucking dick/biting someone's shoulder/or having one of the boys' fingers in their mouth. it's degen hours for me ajsdhsjsdkjfblsjfk

this post is dedicated to mazzy. she literally ghostwrote this anon AKDJSKTB

i was gonna post this yesterday but i fucking blacked out so. hope yall like smut in the morning

nsfw, minors / ageless dni

· the boys are ALL over this. it drives them crazy when you’re affectionate with them, to the point they start arguing about who gets your attention next. they're melting every time you pepper them with kisses, playfully biting you back whenever you bite them, always so eager to return your energy when given the opportunity to.

· naturally, this attitude follows them to the bedroom, too. it wouldn't be too uncommon for some of them to bicker about who gets to fuck your mouth first next to spark up, especially since some of them would definitely start to hog you upon given the chance. it’s a guarantee that you won’t be leaving an encounter without the taste of one of them lingering on your tongue.

· aaron and judas are the most gentle, having their fun rubbing their cock against your mouth just to make you whine for them. judas would take his time getting himself off with just your lips no matter how much you protest or try to suck him off, gently scolding you every time you make the attempt to. aaron on the other hand would lose his patience after some time. all that begging, so desperate for him, he'd have no choice but to shut you up. who is he to deny you of what you both want?

· mattias and dom, meanwhile, are both practically the opposite of their friends. any time either man is involved, you'd definitely find yourself gagging on one of them before all of your clothes are off. they just can’t wait to be inside you any longer than what’s necessary.

· dominic isn't as classless as mattie — he's taking his time with you, asking you if you like how he tastes, looking real deep into your eyes throughout the whole act. he really loves to see the look on your face when he's cumming down your throat. but mattias can't help himself from using your mouth like a fleshlight, no matter how hard he tries. the sounds you make when you're gagging on him, the feeling of you desperately sucking his cock, the way you look at him when you know he's about to cum? he’s addicted to it. he likes it more than he likes actually fucking you, especially knowing how much you enjoy it too.

· you'll never have to worry about going unsatisfied with these four around. they're obsessed with and take advantage of your fixation as much as you'll let them — and you'll let them as much as they want, won't you? they're only trying to give you what you want, after all!

#this isnt even the most degen thing ive written and im still embarrassed #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere boy #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere boys #male poly yanderes #yandere smut headcanons #yandere smut #yandere nsft #yandere x reader smut #xxi ;; the world — asks #🚬 mattias c. - dominic g. - judas j. - aaron d. ;; the delinquents

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Eleven: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids, exhibitionism? If you squint, cockwarming, crying during sex(not dacryophilia),oral, no condom PiV, protected PiV, dick piercing, knife, blood, violence, gore, murder, drugs, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Ghost has his fantasy fun, Anakin is spiraling, chaos ensues [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Date

August 24th continued

“Shh shhh.” Came from an odd voice, you hadn’t seen your attacker yet, having been swept up from behind.

You kept trying to yell, to spit out the gag as you fought him. His right hand coming back up to hold your head still and your mouth shut.

“Shut up.” He growled. “Just calm down.”

Your muffled words came out angrily, letting whoever had you like this have a piece of your mind despite them being unable to understand a word of it. Even as he started talking again you kept fighting, kept yelling to no avail.

“It’s me.” His distorted voice finally beginning to register. “It’s just me, calm down. It’s Ghost, it’s me.”

“Huh?” It came out as an awkward grunt, but he seemed to understand as you slowly stopped thrashing.

“It’s just me. It’s Ghost.” He repeated, a gentler tone now that you’d begun to calm yourself.

“Just take a deep breath through your nose doll. You’re gonna make yourself hyperventilate.” He chuckled, watching your chest heave with the effort of your labored breathing.

“If I take out this gag will you scream?” He asked, the cool plastic of his mask touching your heated cheek.

You shook your head no, then yes when he asked you to promise to it as well.

He pulled the fabric from your mouth and shoved it in his back pocket, letting you catch your breath while he loosened his grip on you slightly.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You spun around the very second he gave you that bit of freedom and smacked him in the chest while you whisper shouted.

“A lot.” He shrugged, both hands up and out to the side as he tilted his head.

“Don’t be a smartass right now.” You chided.

“I’ll be a smartass whenever I want, princess.” he snickered, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you with him into the recessed entryway to one of the buildings beside you.

“What are you doing?” You squeaked, feeling a bit of panic despite knowing you were still probably… mostly, safe with him.

“Taking these off.” He said, dropping to his knees after pushing your back flush against the wall, yanking your panties down until they pooled at your feet.

“Gods wait! No!” You shrieked, pushing at his shoulders, he stood up immediately and gripped your cheeks tightly.

“I thought you agreed not to scream.” He growled.

“That was before I knew what you were doing!” You argued back, poking him in the chest.

“Shut the fuck up and let me have what I want alright?” He scoffed. “Don’t argue with me.”

“I have every right to argue with-“

He cut you off by shoving the bandana back in your mouth with a disappointed slow head shake and tsk. He flipped out his butterfly knife in a showy spin, ending with the blade pointed down so he could stab and drag the sharp metal through the center of your panties, ripping them off and shoving them and the knife back in his pocket.

“Now, should I get out the tape or do you think you’re capable of behaving like a good girl?” He asked condescendingly, the blacked out eyes of the mask staring up at you as he crouched down again.

You nodded, but he need clarity.

“Yes, you’ll be a good girl?” He asked, receiving a nod in response.

“You won’t touch me?” He asked, you shook your head.

“Not even if I take my mask off?”

That made you freeze, almost gaging on the fabric as you gasped. His mask? He’s taking off his mask? Is he showing you his face?

“Don’t get too excited. You aren’t seeing me.” He laughed, standing up and producing a roll of electrical tape from his pocket.

“Gimme your hands.” He said annoyedly as you jerked away from him. “You hesitated, I’m taping your wrists together.”

“Shame I can’t trust you to keep your promise.” He sighed, flipping you around and taping your wrists together tightly.

“Poor little boyfriend shouldn’t trust you to keep your legs closed either.” He snickered, you could hear the smugness in his tone even through his filtered voice.

You scowled but didn’t make an attempt to fight when he pushed your back against the wall again, dropping to his knees and flipping up the skirt of your dress.

“Leg up little doe.” He commanded, smacking your outer thigh and guiding your leg to hook over his shoulder.

“You make a move to see my face and I’ll send some of those pretty pictures to your boyfriend.” He warned before you felt his mask come off and drop to the pavement.

He took a deep breath in, his nose pressed firmly against your cunt, breathing you in and sighing in relief like a smoker does with the first cigarette on their lunch break. You noticed something then that you’d not had the opportunity to notice before. He had at least one nose piercing, you could feel the hoop dragging across your pussy lip as he pulled away.

Immediately after he went in for what he really wanted. His tongue darted out, licking a long and slow stripe up your core. A gravely tone groaned at the taste like he’d missed it since his last time.

The tip of his tongue circled and teased your clit, flicking over it quickly while his lips wrapped around it with gentle suction. You felt his arms moving and the sound of something else hitting the ground, then two warm fingers pressed against your opening.

Gathering up your slick and spreading it around before gently inserting them, slowly sinking them as deeply as he could. He didn’t pump his fingers like you expected, instead he moved his finger tips in broad swipes back and forth across your spongy front wall. The pressure of it paired with the work of his mouth created a bloom of heat in your stomach, slowly spreading throughout you as he devoured you with expert skill.

You never imagined this was were you’d end up. At no point in your life, not even in your wildest thoughts and dreams would you have guess that you’d be in an alley, hands taped behind your back, gag in your mouth, with a fully anonymous stalker lapping away between your legs.

Even less likely that you would’ve imagined enjoying it.

But damn… you were. You were enjoying it alittle too much, so much that you weren’t sure that the gag would be enough to keep you quiet. Ghost’s free hand slipped farther up your dress and pinched your side with leather fingers to quiet you.

He kept his hand there, squeezing and rubbing his thumb back and forth soothingly, lulling you into a state of relaxation as you let him do all the work. As if sensing your mind wandering off to that lovely little place, Ghost worked alittle faster with his fingers and nibbled ever so gently on your clit as he kept it held captive between his lips.

You’d give anything to have the use of you hands right now, to grip him by the hair and shove his face into you as you ground on him. All you could do was let out a muffled whine and nudge him with the heel of your foot, hoping to pull him closer with your leg.

He obliged but pinched you again just for his own self satisfaction. A humored puff of air leaving his nose when you let out an annoyed grunt, he shut you up quickly by changing his tactics from back and forth to long pressurized circles on your front wall, pressing firmly against it until you shook and whined. Your leg pushing him closer, this time of its own accord as you tensed up.

With nothing to hold onto, no way to disperse your pent up energy, all you could do was buck helplessly against his tongue and fingers, letting out an embarrassingly desperate and muffled scream from behind your gag.

He moaned while removing his fingers and wiped them off on the inside of the back of your dress. Ghost laved at you in long, lazy strokes as he cleaned up your messy cunt and soaked inner thighs.

He reluctantly put his glove back on, as well as his mask, rising up from beneath your skirt to tower over you.

“Turn around, face the wall.” He said, the filter voice low and crackly.

You nodded, obeying immediately and were rewarded with the removal of your bindings. His knife slicing through the tape with ease, after closing it and tucking it away he inspected them to make sure he hadn’t hurt you, letting you have free range of movement after a moment.

Your hand flew to your mouth and you attempted to pull the fabric from between your lips but his firm grip caught your wrist.

“I’ll tape you right back up.” He warned. “I made you scream and I plan on doing it again.”

His chest pressed against your back, pinning you to the brick wall, uncomfortably but not painfully. His mask pressed against the side of your face and one of his hands squeezed and kneaded at your breasts, his other fumbled with his belt.

You heard his zipper come undone just before he flipped up the back of your dress. He dragged his precum covered tip along the soft flesh of your ass, his breathing changing slightly.

“You can take out the gag for now.” He said, watching you pull it out and cough.

“Y-you gotta- just wait-“

“Shhh I’ve got a condom.” He laughed pulling it out and showing you before ripping it open and rolling it on.

“Spread ‘em baby.” He cooed, kicking your legs apart and pulling your waist away from the wall slightly.

“Ghost-“ you breathed out, starting to panic. “Ghost I can’t, we can’t.”

“You can’t, we can’t…” he chuckled. “I can though.”

He hummed, pressing the tip against your dripping entrance, you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing back against him lightly. The movement was almost unconsciously made, but it was enough of an invitation for him to accept.

“Deep breath baby.” He breathed out, pushing inside slowly and letting out a groan that sounded almost pained.

“Oh…” you whimpered, biting your lip. You were determined not to show how much you truly loved the way he fit inside, like he belonged there despite everything else.

“Fuck… this, this is mine.” He growled, thrusting up into you slowly but hard each time his hips met your ass.

“N-no.” You shook your head, a quiet disagreement leaving your lips.

“Seems like it’s mine.” He growled, “Don’t it, doll?” He asked rhetorically, rolling his hips against you to drive home his point.

“Anakin’s.” You whined, clenching your fists tightly as your forearms kept you from scraping against the wall.

He growled but said nothing, just changed pace to a brutal deep stroke that had his cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“He f-fucks me better than this.” You gasped.

“Oh does he?” Ghost laughed loudly.

“He does…” you whined as he reached up beneath your dress to cruelly pinch and twist your nipple.

“Shut up before I put that gag back in.” He snapped.

“Jus’ being honest.” Though you couldn’t hide the way your body was responding to him, to the delicious roughness he was treating you to.

“That’s enough.” He barked, his hand leaving your breast to grip your hair tightly, tilting your head back.

“Ow!” You squealed, not expecting him to react like that.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I felt it.” He snickered, smacking your ass as he pointed out how your cunt clenched around him when he tugged your hair.

“But-“

“Close your eyes.” He commanded.

“Wait, why?” You questioned, trying to look behind you.

“Because I fucking told you to.” He snapped, pulling your hair harshly.

You whimpered and complied, feeling a leather hand come up your throat, stopping with two fingers resting on your bottom lip.

“Bite.” His voice so low and sultry the voice modifier struggled to pick it up, the crackle of it, the possibility you might hear his real voice if you could just get him to talk quietly enough, just made you more excited.

You bit down on the tips of the fingers, de-gloving his hand. You were tempted to open your eyes even the tiniest bit, hoping for a fleeting glance of his uncovered flesh. Though he anticipated your thoughts before you could enact them.

His other hand hooked the thumb into the side of your mouth, his palm and fingers splayed out against your face to protect you as he rested the forehead of his mask against your other cheek, effectively pinning your head in place.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached between your legs and pinched your clit, making you yelp.

“Stupid girl.” He laughed. “Just be still and enjoy it.” He groaned, his cock bullying your insides as his fingers did the same to your clit.

“You want to cum don’t you?”

“Uh huh.” You whined, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Then behave.” He growled.

He drilled up into you, the confined space echoing the smacking of wet skin against skin. His breathing heavy, unlike yours that came in short gasps and sharp intakes of air between squeaky whines.

“Listen to you, pretty little moans.” He laughed. “But you’re pretending you don’t love how I’m fucking you.”

“Acting like anyone else could make you feel like this.” He grunted, punctuating each word with a particularly deep plunge of his length.

“He can!” You whined in protest, squirming beneath him. “Love it when he fucks me.”

“You wanna cum? Keep talking like that and we’ll see how long I make you wait.”

“D-don’t care.” You slurred, his thumb in your mouth making you drool from the side of your mouth.

“Okay.” He laughed, removing fingers from your clit and slowing his thrusting.

“N-no!” You whined, reaching down to grab his hand and stop him. As you gripped his hand you felt two chunky rings on his hand, though you were unable to tell which fingers they belonged to.

“Now you’ve done it.” He growled.

He withdrew from your swollen and needy pussy, hastily pulling up his boxers but not bothering to fix his pants. He twisted you to the side and bent you over, and let go of your face in favor of gripping your hair tightly again.

“Brace yourself bitch.” He growled, his gloveless hand pushing up your skirt again and bringing his palm down on your asscheek hard, a resound *smack* followed by a loud moan that surprised even you.

“Does princess like a little pain with her pleasure?” He teased, bringing his hand down on your ass again.

You didn’t answer, just focusing on biting back another moan when he waled on you twice in quick succession.

“I asked you a question.” He growled, yanking your hair and forcefully lifting your head.

“Yes.” You hissed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the pain, but mostly the humiliation of having to admit that you liked it, that you wanted more.

“Good.” He chuckled, roughly bringing you up to stand on your own two feet again.

Ghost shoved his fist back into his glove with his back to you, wordlessly pointing at the wall. So you obeyed, turning around with your eyes downcast and shameful.

“Lift up your skirt. I wanna see my handprints.” Ghost’s voice came out low and crackly through the modifier.

You did as he asked, both hands pulling up the fabric in the back, exposing the red welted handprint on your right asscheek. He took a sharp inhale of breath as he looked you over, his sneakers crunching on the pavement as crouched down a few feet behind you.

“Say cheese.” He snickered, snapping a picture with the flash on.

“Damn, look at that baby.” He whistled, standing up and pressing himself against your back, his hard cock throbbing through his boxers.

He showed you the picture, the flash showing off the sheen of slick that coated your inner thighs, something he was extremely proud of.

“You should get that tattooed.” He sounded almost serious when he suggested it, only solidifying the sentiment by adding: “I’ll pay for it.”

“Im not getting your handprint tattooed.” You snapped at him.

“No? What about my teeth?” He asked, audibly gnashing his teeth together behind the mask.

“You’re ridiculous.” You scoffed, “I can’t-“

“If you’re gonna be a brat then shut the fuck up.” He growled, shoving the bandana back in your mouth. Your hands instinctively went to pull it out but he only laughed and swatted them away.

“I’ll tape you back up.” He warned you again. “But it’d be a lot easier to fuck you if you could hold on to me.”

He grunted, picking you up and supporting your weight with one arm while his free hand pulled his length back out from his boxers.

“Gonna hold you like this okay?” He said in a gentler tone, spreading your legs wide and out to the sides of your torso, his hands gripping you firmly in the crook of your knees.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna drop you.” He grumbled.

“Now arms up princess.” He commanded, shrugging his shoulders twice to prompt you to wrap your arms around his neck.

“Watch.” He growled, looking down where your bodies would connect, his cockhead sliding back and forth through your slicked swollen folds.

“Gods thats fucking gorgeous.” He groaned, pushing into you slowly.

He was making sure you saw every inch of him disappear inside, the position you were in allowed you to feel, see, and hear everything. Amplifying the squelching of your cunt, providing the perfect angle for him to bully your pussy in just the right ways, and giving you an unobstructed view of your illicit act.

“Been thinkin’ bout fucking you like this for so long.” Not even his modified voice could hide his desperation and longing.

“So goddamn pretty.” He choked out, thrusting up into you, his hips slapping your inner thighs. “All laid out for me, this pretty pussy being so damn needy for me.”

“Look at you.” He breathed out, his voice a bit shaky. “Just look at how wet you are, fuck.”

His leathered fingers dug into your flesh, the rough surface of the brick picked and tugged at your dress. It bit into your skin, adding an element of consistent pain that you weren’t expecting, but had no complaints about.

“Do something useful and play with your clit for me.” He chuckled, watching as you helplessly took the beating he was doling out.

You nodded quickly and followed orders, your fingers putting pressure on the little nub. You rubbed quick circles, feeling the already tight coil in your stomach constrict again, getting tighter and tighter as he built you up to orgasm.

“Oh… feels good huh?” Ghost laughed, rolling his hips against you.

You answered a muffled ‘yes’, your eyebrows pinched together tightly as you concentrated on the warm, fuzzy feeling that bubbled just under the surface within you.

“Shit.” He grunted leaning forward and drilling into you while letting out a desperate, barely modified, high-pitched whine.

“Gods this pussy’s just too damn good.” He groaned, leaning back again to watch as he felt your stomach tighten.

“You gonna cum for me?” He asked.

You were having trouble remembering to breathe, how did he expect you to form a coherent enough thought to give him a simple nod in response? You made pitiful whimpering noises, stopped in their tracks by your gag every time. Though it seemed to be enough of an answer for Ghost.

“Damn right.” He doubled down, thrusting up in a brutal pace that made your nipples harden and your back arch.

His fast paced movements not only pushed you both closer to the edge, but also pushed the hem of his hoodie up. It was slowly riding up from where he’d tugged it down to his hips.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “Eyes up.” He barked, his annoyance at the situation was palpable in the way his thrusts switched from calculated and precise to messy, angry snaps of his hips against your thighs.

“Don’t you fucking test me girl.” Ghost growled, pressing your legs alittle harder against the wall when your eyes darted downward again.

Your pussy fluttered around his throbbing length, squeezing him tightly while your fingertips bit into his shoulders through the thick fabric of his hoodie. Your whines and moans matching his desperate breath.

“Jesus- look at me damnit!” He barked your eyes snapping up to stare into the black holes of his mask. “Cant listen to simple instructions, are you stupid?”

You shook your head, immediately responding to his insult in a futile attempt to defend your intelligence. You could almost hear the smile behind his mask when he felt your cunt squeeze him alittle tighter.

“You might not have been dumb before, but you sure as hell are now.” Ghost grumbled, determined to exploit your newfound enjoyment of his humiliation. “Stupid bitch. Legs all spread for me, moaning like a fucking pornstar and drooling over my cock.”

“So fucking stupid that you like it when I insult you.” He laughed, “Poor little girl turned into a cockwhore the first time a real man fucks her.”

“All you’ve got in that tiny brain of yours is me.” He said and of course he was right. He was always right.

“There we go. Atta girl baby.” He breathed out, watching you fall apart against him. Leaning forward just a bit while your hand worked faster between your bodies.

You glanced down momentarily and caught just the tiniest sliver of black ink on the pale skin of his abdomen. His reaction was immediate; his right hand tossing your leg over his shoulder and his torso pressed against yours.

You heard a click and snap just before feeling something sharp and cold poking the side of your neck. Your eyes widened when you realized he’d pulled his knife on you, or maybe it was because the quick switch-up in angles and the dangerous position you’d gotten yourself into excited you enough to make you come undone.

He watched, shaking his head slightly while you convulsed against him, suffering through the pleasurable pain of one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” He panted, “I can’t even threaten you without your pussy getting drenched.”

His thrusts became desperate and needy, having taken care of you first, he was quick to follow. He let his knife fall to the pavement with a clatter so he could wrap his hand around your neck instead.

“It was hot though.” He chuckled, pressing his chest against yours as his hips stuttered, he filled up the condom with a low, reedy groan. Slowly thrusting into you a few more times before reluctantly pulling out.

“Close your eyes and don’t you dare think about opening them. I’ll knock your fucking lights out, you hear me?” He growled, his mask nuzzled into the crook of your neck, he felt you nod in agreement so he gingerly guided one of your legs back to the ground.

Leaning back to ensure you kept your promise while he tugged his hoodie back down and tucked away his cock. He then carefully helped you down, laughing at the way you wobbled on unsteady legs as he zipped and buttoned his jeans, fastening his belt hastily.

You pulled out the gag and took a long gulp of fresh air, trying to process everything that had happened. It felt like hours had gone by but as you checked your phone you realized it had only been about twenty minutes.

“C’mere little doe.” Ghost said softly tucking his knife away in his back pocket. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed hard and complied, letting him wrap you in a comforting hug.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, even quieter.

“You want to walk me home?” You asked in surprise.

“I’m going to regardless of whether you say yes or no. Do you want me to walk with you or do you want me to hide out in the shadows like I usually do?” He asked, swaying you slightly in the embrace.

“Walk with me.” You answered quietly, too tired to pretend you didn’t want his company.

“Good girl.” He nodded, releasing you partially.

Keeping an arm slung around your shoulders he guided you down the dark alleyway and back out onto the sidewalk. With his hood up and his head down, you walked together silently, listening to the city night sounds while the weight of your situation pressed down on your chest.

Diary Entry: August 25th

I’ve went and got myself into a fucking problem again. Will I ever learn? Probably not.

My need to keep you placated enough that you won’t absolutely despise me when you find out who I am… kept me from fully fulfilling my fantasy. Everything we did was perfect baby, that’s not what I mean. I just mean I’m gonna have to do it again and hope you’ll forgive me later.

Not to mention how DIFFICULT it is to fuck you as myself now that I’ve learned a few of the little things that make you tick. I wanna rip into you, I want to devour you whole, I want to fuck you so hard that the ER nurses will be jealous when they’re bringing you back from the stupor I put you in.

Gods, I didn’t think I’d ever see you splayed out on the wall like that for me but I’m so fucking glad I did. Ever since the first time I thought of it I haven’t stopped. So beautiful, you’re so beautiful. How can I be expected to not be wholly and fully obsessed with you when you’re so perfect?

How am I supposed to pretend that I don’t want to press a blade to your throat while I make love to you nice and slow, in my bed? Christ… I knew you’d show Ghost a different side to you, but I didn’t expect you to like that. Not at all.

It’s got me wondering what else you’d like. If only I wasn’t so worried about your opinion of me, maybe then I’d test some things out.

Also, your opinion of me… you little brat. You’ve stopped writing about me in your diary. It’s like you’re trying to make me angry. Do you think that’ll get you what you want?

It won’t.

You see one little sliver of skin and you think you can cold shoulder me into giving away who I am? I’m not finished with my fun yet. Maybe if you’d listen to me you’d get what you wanted sooner.

But no. Of course not. You are a brat after all, whiny and needy and stupid enough to think that misbehaving will get you anywhere.

Have you met me? When have I ever let you get away with shit before?

I’d like to scrub that image from your brain. I’d like to yank out the memory of my rings too, did you have to grab my hand like that? You’re stupid, but I’m a fucking moron. I should’ve put them in my pocket like I normally do. I was too busy trying to get where I needed to be to properly prepare.

Sloppy work Ghost… or Anakin. Both. Sloppy.

I took out my snake bites. I took out my cock ring. I haven’t had my tongue ring in for quite a while now, have you ever seen me with it? I don’t think you have…

DATE

August 26th

Anakin’s tongue had just invaded your mouth, swirling and caressing every centimeter of yours that he could comfortably get to. His lips caught against yours in a sticky, loving, slow kiss.

When a knock at your door rudely interrupted your make-out session on your couch.

“Fuck.” He groaned, patting your hip to signal for you to get up from his lap. “Can you get it baby? I don’t think the delivery guy wants to see my boner as much as you do.”

“Yes I’ll get the door.” You laughed, covering your mouth while you glanced over your shoulder at him, his hand down the front of his sweatpants to reposition himself.

“Hey.” you smiled, opening up the door to greet the pizza guy, a short scruffy looking dude with dark circles and stubble.

“Hey hon.” He grinned, “you paid online right?”

“Yep, sure did.” You nodded, holding out your hand with some ones. “I always tip in cash though.”

“Ah, thanks.” He smiled, taking it from you and tucking it into his pocket.

“Um… can I have the pizza now?” You laughed, holding out both hands awkwardly.

“Oh shit, yeah.” He awkwardly handed it over with a blush to his cheeks. “Sorry, got distracted… you’re just really pretty.”

His voice was quiet and small as he ogled over your body, all the way down to your fuzzy pink slippers, his eyes soaking in the image of your white cropped tank top and baby blue silky shorts, a pajama set Anakin had bought you not too long ago.

“Oh uh…” You stuttered nervously, looking over your shoulder you saw Anakin making a fast approach to the door.

His arm wrapped around your waist, one large hand splaying across the exposed skin of your stomach. His lips placed a chaste kiss to your shoulder before he turned his head and nuzzled into your neck, leaving a wet and sloppy kiss to the tender flesh. It seemed like he just couldn’t help himself as he pressed his cock against your ass, he needed this guy to not only know you were taken, but also to feel as uncomfortable as he could manage.

“C’mon princess,” Anakin’s voice low and gravely as he unashamedly staked his claim over you. “I’ve lost my appetite for pizza, found something else I’d rather eat.”

“S-sorry I’m sorry.” The delivery guy stammered, turning quickly with a red faced, shocked expression as he hightailed it away from your door.

Anakin’s other arm looped around your waist, pulling you back into the apartment, his foot coming up to kick the door closed while he laughed.

“Anakin!” You squealed, wiggling out of his grasp and setting the pizza box down on the kitchen counter. “Poor guy, you’ve traumatized him.” You giggled.

“His fault.” He shrugged, pulling you back against him with one hand on the back of your neck.

“Shouldn’t have interrupted my kisses, shouldn’t have flirted with my girl.” He mumbled against your lips, his other hand growing tired of caressing your breasts through the fabric of your top.

His grip on the back of your neck tightened while his free hand tugged up the hem of your top, pulling it past the swell of your breasts and exposing the sensitive flesh for his mouth to latch onto. His lips left yours in favor of pulling and sucking on your hardened nipple, not leaving your other unattended, his fingers working away by pinching and tweaking it.

“Damnit… Anakin.” You whined, pushing his head back.

“Don’t interrupt me sweetheart, I told you I was hungry.” He chuckled.

“For pizza!” You yelped, his teeth gently but unexpectedly bit down on your nipple.

“That was before some twerp tried to sweet talk my baby.” He growled.

“Hush, no one could ever sweet talk me away from you.” You breathed out carding your fingers through his hair.

“Oh? Is that so?” He asked a bit sharper in tone than he normally used with you.

“Of course Ani.” You whispered, eyebrows furrowing in a bit of confusion. What was he talking about? There’s no possible way he could know about Ghost.

He looked up at you from his point of attack as he slowly rose to his feet. Hooking his fingers under your top, he pulled it up again, prompting you to lift your arms so he could take it off. You let him, seeing a shift in his eyes from desire to feral need; a need for possession.

“Let’s get these off.” He whispered, dragging his tongue down the length of your abdomen, his hands helping you step out of your panties and shorts.

He placed a gentle, warm kiss to your mound before straightening himself up again, grabbing the pizza box and the back of your neck again to walk you over to the couch.

With the pizza box on the coffee table, he stripped down bare and opened up the curtains of your big living room window.

“What are you doing?” You asked with a slight laugh.

“If someone wants to look at you, then they can look while I’m balls deep inside.” He said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer while he settled himself on the couch with his legs spread comfortably.

He held you steady with one hand on your waist, leaning forward to trace a wet circle around your navel with his tongue while his fingers spread your folds to run his fingers through and gather up your arousal.

“Turn around baby,” he said softly. “Sit on my cock like a good girl okay?”

You straddled his thighs backwards, his thumbs peeling your asscheeks apart to get a good look as your glistening cunt opened up and took his cock like it was made just for him. His cockhead breached your entrance, the thick metal ball of his jewelry massaging your inner walls while he held you still so he could slowly thrust up into you with short strokes.

“My pussy.” He breathed out, pushing in alittle deeper. “So fucking wet and I didn’t even have to touch you first. All it took was a good kiss huh?”

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, your hands on his knees to keep your balance.

“That’s right.” He nodded, confidence dripping from his voice. “Now settle down on it.”

You lowered yourself slowly, taking in each tortuous inch until he was fully sheathed inside. The position making you feel full in ways you hadn’t before, it put a fair amount of pressure against your front, adding an extra bit of stimulation. You tried to rock back and forth on him, expecting him to want you to do exactly that, but he stopped you.

“No.” Anakin was gruff when he spoke, “You sit still, don’t move unless I tell you to. I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

“Oh… okay.” You nodded rapidly, your pussy contracted around him, earning a dark chuckle from the man behind you.

“Now let’s eat.” He said nonchalantly, gesturing for you to get a slice of pizza for the both of you while he picked up the remote and selected a slasher film.

“Really?” You asked in surprise.

“Yes really.” He scoffed, “I’m hungry, as much as I’d love to be able to sustain myself off your pussy, I can’t.”

“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, leaning forward while he kept ahold of you so that you could retrieve a slice for the both of you.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He said, casual as ever after taking a bite.

He rested his chin on your shoulder and his idle hand on your stomach, rubbing his thumb across your skin soothingly, despite his palm putting a bit of pressure there.

Despite your boyfriend being, like he said: ‘balls deep’ inside you, your thoughts kept drifting to Ghost. You knew somewhere in this room there was a camera, and somewhere out in the world there was a man seething in anger over what you were doing.

Sitting naked, curtains open, spread out and speared on your boyfriend’s dick while you both ate pizza and watched a movie.

You found it harder and harder to sit still, feeling uncomfortable not only from the thickness lodged in your cunt, but from the all seeing, all knowing gaze of Ghost. It only got worse when Anakin’s hand drifted down a bit further to tease and flick your clit.

“Ani please…” you whined, trying your very best not to squirm.

“Please what?” He asked, chewing a bite as he spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“It’s not fair.” You complained, “don’t touch me if you’re not gonna let me move.”

“Excuse me?” His voice deep and dangerous as all his movements froze.

“W-what?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder to see a scowl on his face.

“Repeat yourself.” He asked in a stern but calm tone.

“Well I didn’t- that’s not what I meant I-“

“Say it again.” He prodded.

“It’s not fair?” You whispered, avoiding the part you knew he was referring to.

“Nope, not that.” He said, tossing his half eaten slice of pizza back into the box and doing the same to yours.

“Don’t touch me?” You asked, your voice not coming out nearly as collected as you attempted for it to.

“That’s what I thought you said.” He grunted, removing his hands from your hips and lacing his fingers together behind his head.

“If you wanna move, move.” He challenged. “Just don’t expect any help from me princess. This is all you.”

“What?” You squeaked.

“You told me not to touch you.” He shrugged.

“Anakin! I didn’t mean it like that!” You whined, slowly rising and turning around to face him.

You stared for a minute, distracted from your original mission by the sight of his cock throbbing, coated in your slick, the pretty blushed tip hugging the top ball of the jewelry you loved so much.

“If you want it so bad then get on it and fuck me.” He laughed, a big smug grin on his lips.

“Well, sorry that I find my boyfriend extremely hot.” You snorted. “You’re just so… yummy.”

“Yummy?” His smile only getting bigger as you fueled his ego.

“Mhm.” You nodded, a little smirk on your lips as you put your hands on his chest to balance yourself while you slowly sunk back down on his length.

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief from being full of him again. When it came to Anakin you were insatiable, he knew you like that back of his hand, every touch, kiss and movement was choreographed to your liking.

Now he was going to make you work for it after all this time of letting you be a pretty little pillow princess? How unfair.

“Yummy.” You said again, starting to rock back and forth on him, circling your hips and rising just slightly. “You’re so pretty.”

You leaned forward, kissing his chest and snaking your hands up into his hair, tugging lightly but focusing on gentle fingertips carding through his hair. Your lips took a path straight up the column of his throat, hot, open mouthed kisses placed back to back along the inked skin.

Dragging your tongue along the underside of his jaw and enveloping the small black stud on his earlobe with your lips, sucking on it only to pull away.

“C’mon sweetheart you can do better than that.” He groaned, obviously fighting an internal battle with himself, his muscles flexed in his forearms as he squeezed his hands together tightly.

“I like it like this.” You sighed, riding him as slowly as possible, letting your head fall back as you teased him by touching yourself.

“Oh- fuck, baby…” he whined, watching as you cupped both your breasts and pulled at your nipples in sync, putting on a show for him.

You felt his cock twitch at the sight of you taking charge over him, reminding you of the first time you he ‘made love’ to you. His face was pitiful and pained, he looked so needy.

“Poor little Ani.” You teased, poking out your bottom lip.

“Baby please, fuck me for real.” He huffed, trying not to buck up into you.

“I don’t know how, I forgot. You spoiled me for too long.” You giggled, bouncing on him just a bit faster for only a few seconds.

“Gods-“ he gritted his teeth together so tightly you were worried he might crack a tooth. “You can do it princess, c’mon fuck me.”

“Like this?” You asked sweetly, your voice innocent and teasing.

You lifted and pushed back down on him faster, a bit harder, while still circling your hips. Hands leaving your breasts in favor of cupping his face and tilting his head back slightly.

“Y-yeah that’s it.” He nodded, sucking in his bottom lip, tucking it behind his top row of teeth as he closed his eyes tightly.

“Better?” You whispered, your hands leaving his face to return to his chest, pinching his nipples just to see how he’d react.

“Christ-“ he sucked in a sharp breath of air, his eyes flying open to look down at your hands, your fingertips squeezing the little hardened nubs. “Shit sweetheart…”

“You like it?” You asked him with a bit of surprise.

“I-yeah I think I do.” He chuckled, choking on air when you leaned down and enveloped one between your lips biting down like he’d done to you.

“I take it back… I know I like it.” He breathed out shakily.

With newfound confidence you rode him in earnest, soaking in every moan and whimper he let loose and letting it fuel the fire in your belly.

“That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, his head resting on the back of the couch as he moved his arms down, flexing his hands at his sides to keep them busy.

You slowed down to tease him, to hear him whimper. And he did, he looked up at you like you’d kicked a puppy when you broke your rhythm that had him hurtling toward the edge.

“Why?” He hiccuped, his eyebrows knitted together while he tongued at his lip piercings anxiously.

“Cause I wanted to.” You giggled, taking pride in the way you had him under your thumb.

“Brat.” He grumbled, “c’mon fuck me, you know how to fuck me baby.”

He was loosing patience and loosing it quickly. He thrusted up slightly and stopped himself from doing more by groaning loudly and biting down on his fist.

“You wanna cum?” You asked, low and seductive.

“Goddamnit.” He sucked in a sharp breath when you purposely clenched around him rhythmically, licking at his nipples again.

“Yes, please, please I want to.” He whined, covering his eyes with his arm.

“You want to? Or need to?” You teased him, nipping at his Adam’s apple.

“Sweetheart,” he growled, “please.”

“Aw Anakin, you didn’t answer my question.” You pouted, slowing down slightly.

“Fuck!” He grunted, his face heating up at your self satisfied giggle. “I need to. I need to cum, please!”

“See? Just needed to answer a simple question.” You cooed, returning to your previous pace.

“That’s real fucking rich coming from you, little-“ He held his breath, stopping his words from coming out, instead letting out a whine that bordered on a sob.

“Please.” He panted, “princess please just- faster.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” You said with a smug grin, complying with his request and moving just a bit faster.

“Make me cum.” He gritted out, baring his teeth and trying not to grab you, both hands hovering at your waist. “C’mon fuck the cum out of me sweetheart, you can do it, you know how to do it.”

His words had you falter in your movements, he sounded so desperate, so needy, he was able to make you feel desired in ways no one else ever had before and it made you want to give him everything he needed and more.

“Fuck this shit.” He growled, gripping you tightly and ramming up into you, making you gasp and hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

“Takin’ too damn long, not doing what I asked, teasing me…” he grunted, driving up hard and fast. “Can’t stand it anymore.”

“Fuck… yeah scratch me.” he chuckled, feeling your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you hiccuped for air. “Mark me up princess.”

“God you feel so good.” He let out a shaky breath, his forehead in the crook of your neck. “Play with your clit, cum for me.”

“M’not gonna last much longer baby.” He whined and you thought you felt something hot and wet drip down onto your skin.

“Ani?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hmm?” He sniffled, not lifting his head.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, wishing he’d slow down and look at you. “Are you crying?”

“Damnit.” He hiccuped, nodding his head and letting out a long held breath against your flushed skin. “Fuck… m’fine.”

“But-“

“Shhh- shut up.” He said quietly. “Just- just need you.”

He trailed kisses along your skin, sucking at the crook of your neck and nibbling there, doing his damndest to give you a massive hickey. You didn’t have the willpower to stop him and ask him to pick another place.

“I need you, need to feel you, need to be with you.” His voice shook, as he whispered into your skin, his lips grazing against your earlobe with each word.

“Don’t ever wanna lose you.” He pulled you flush against his chest, fisting your hair and squeezing your middle tightly as he leaned back, taking you with him. “You’re my girl, mine.”

“Fuck.” He sobbed, clutching at your body, at any piece of you he could reach as he relentlessly thrusted up into you. “Shit, shit, shit I’m gonna cum.” He breathed out, hot and heavy.

“I-I… baby I love you.” He confessed, a pitiful whimper leaving his trembling lips as he pulled back enough for you to see his red rimmed eyes just before he devoured you in a kiss.

He moaned into your mouth, holding you tightly as he fucked his cum deep inside your cunt, the shock of his confession, the confusion of his tears and the warmth of his seed coating your walls had you coming apart at the seams along with him.

You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know what to feel, guilty that’s for certain, but otherwise? You were an emotional wreck. All you could do was kiss him. Kiss him and touch him and ride out your high in little movements while he tries to catch his breath and wipe his tears.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispered, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. “I just needed you to know.”

“I-it’s not that I just… are you okay?” You asked gently, climbing off him and letting him cuddle you up next to him and wrap a blanket around the both of you.

“I’m fine sweetheart.” He nodded, pressing his nose into your hair and breathing in the scent of you. “I got overwhelmed I guess.”

“It’s a big feeling and I feel it extra big for you.” He said softly, petting your hair and scratching your scalp lovingly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You nodded, laying your head on his chest and feeling his warmth. “Big, big feeling.” You whispered, trying to hold in the flow of tears that threatened to burst out for several reasons, some including Anakin and some including someone else.

Diary Entry: August 26th

I ask myself again: will I ever fucking learn? No. The answer is no, I will not.

Let’s listen the things I did horribly wrong last night shall we?

I should’ve just decked the pizza guy like I wanted to. I would’ve if it wouldn’t have scared you.

I almost called you something I shouldn’t.

I cried like a little bitch baby. What the hell was that Anakin? What kind of guy cries (not the good kind of tears) while he fucks his girlfriend? Not me! Not me, that’s not me! God that was so fucking stupid, I can’t believe I did that. Worried you like that. I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it.

I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I love you either.

So. It’s safe to say that I’ve officially lost my shit.

You didn’t say it back. Why didn’t you say it back? Am I not enough? Have I split you in half like I’ve done to myself?

Maybe you just think it’s too soon. I mean, really it is for any normal relationship. But our relationship isn’t normal at all. You could paint it and position it any way you wanted and it still wouldn’t look right.

You can’t leave me. Please, please, please don’t leave me. I don’t want to scare you off. I can’t… I couldn’t live without you. So I can’t see you as Ghost until I’ve sorted myself out. No matter how badly I want to.

I probably shouldn’t even see you as myself until I’ve taken care of my head.

DATE

August 27th

Anakin laid flat on his back, the furniture in his living room pushed against the wall so that he could spread out like a starfish on the soft rug. He told you he worked tonight even though he didn’t. He told you he’d see you tomorrow even though he wasn’t sure that he would. He told you he loved you even though you didn’t say it back.

He had spent every minute since you’d fallen asleep last night researching and compiling information about a guy neither of you knew. He had spent every second manually breathing to keep himself centered and calm enough so that he wouldn’t shake with anger as he read each new tidbit of information.

He had everything ready. He was ready.

Anakin sighed and stood up slowly, brushing off imaginary dirt from his black jeans. Stopping near his living room window to pick up his small black backpack, then he climbed down the fire escape toward the more populated, less watched area of the city.

The place where you go to get meth on the street corner. The houses where the windows are cracked and the front porch light flickers. Where the night noises make you walk alittle faster, hold your keys alittle tighter.

The place where a police officer’s druggie son gets away with selling pills to highschoolers.

His freshly bought throwaway Goodwill sneakers crunched against the crumbling sidewalk, a small paint-chipped house came into view. Anakin had walked this far without seeing a single soul since he’d tied a certain bandana across his face. And of course when he’s within 30ft of his destination some half dressed middle aged man with a beer gut is out in his front lawn walking his tiny mutant chihuahua.

Anakin kept his head down and walked straight past the house he was meant to be at. Grumbling about his luck and how he didn’t have time for any more delays. Deciding to take the back way and hop the fence instead of entering through the side basement window like he’d originally planned.

After his extra 5 minutes of walking he’d looped around to the correct house’s backyard and scaled the the rickety wooden fence with a little more noise than he wanted.

“At least the idiot left his door unlocked.” He mumbled, looking at the back door that was propped open with a rubber boot. The screen door closed but without a handle or latch.

He walked in, the screen door creaking open with a loud screech that had Anakin cursing himself for not bringing his WD-40.

“Kyle?” A slurred and drunken voice called out from somewhere in the living room.

“You’re like a whole hour early man.” The pizza delivery guy, Joel Hampton, choked out as he flicked cigarette ash into a tray on the coffee table.

“I’m right on time.” Anakin’s voice came from behind him, both of his hands coming down on his shoulders to lift him up and out of the recliner.

“Jesus! What the hell?!” Joel kicked and tried to wrestle himself away from Anakin, clumsy and halted half-movements that only had him stumbling.

“Where’s your gun?” Anakin growled, flipping out his knife and dragging Joel across the dirty laminate floor by his hair. “I know you have one. Where is it?”

“Fuck man! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Joel yelped, Anakin’s knife blade pressed against his throat.

“You have a pistol.” Anakin repeated, his face coming down to get on Joel’s level, “Where. Is. It?”

“W-why? Why’re you doing this? If you want drugs I’ll give ‘em to you man!” He squealed, Anakin yanking him back to his feet and steering him toward the kitchen.

“Oh how convenient.” Anakin chuckled, dragging Joel over to his kitchen sink and pushing his head down in the dirty water sitting stagnant with the night’s dishes.

Joel flailed his arms, landing and elbow to Anakin’s ribs that only served to piss him off more, so he pulled him from the water and tossed him to the ground watching him sputter and gasp for breath.

“Where is it Joel?”

“How do you know my name?” He coughed, slinking back across the tile to corner himself against the cabinets.

“Your dad’s name is Fredrick Hampton, he just got a promotion down at the 5th precinct. Your mommy Linda is a cashier at the Quik-Stop down the road, where you do your week day deals to the kids from the highschool. You got mono and were in the hospital for a week last year and your family dog died two months ago.” Anakin listed these things off like he’d been rehearsing it. “And yesterday, you delivered pizza to me and my girlfriend.”

“N-no, no you’re that guy?” He squeaked.

“Yeah. I’m that guy.” Anakin said. “Now, give me your gun and I’ll make this quick or don’t and I’ll make it messy.”

“You’re gonna kill me over that?” He sputtered, trying to stand up. “I didn’t even do nothing!”

“I was bored anyway.” Anakin snapped, throwing a strong right hook to Joel’s cheek.

“Do you think it’d be more believable if you killed yourself or if you got jumped by some druggies in your own house?” Anakin snorted. “I’m fine with both. You’re gonna die either way.”

“Kill myself?” Joel spat on the tile, holding his jaw, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“Your gun you fucking idot.” Anakin barked, “are you daft? I need your pistol to blow your fucking brains out, it’s not like you’re using ‘em anyway.”

“Do you want it slow and painful or quick and easy?” Anakin asked angrily, “C’mon I’m giving you a choice, that’s a thing I do now, don’t make me regret it.”

“Neither!” Joel yelled, finally getting up and sloppily throwing a punch to Anakin’s gut.

“Really?” Anakin laughed. “Alright.”

“S’okay I like it messy.” Anakin whispered tossing his knife on the kitchen table and picking Joel up by the back of his head and the center of the back of his shirt.

“Kyle’s supposed to be here in an hour?” Anakin asked casually, bringing Joel’s face down on the wooden table top hard enough to push it across the room.

“Plenty of time.” Anakin brought the heel of his shoe down on Joel’s fingers hearing them crunch in a satisfying way.

“Goddamnit!” Joel pulled his hand back and held it to his chest, groaning in pain and red in the face from holding his breath.

“Get up,” Anakin chuckled, “don’t want daddy to think you went down without a fight do you?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m flattered, but I have a pretty girl for that.” He grunted as he sent his right foot swinging directly at Joel’s mouth, the toe of his shoe coming back bloody.

Joel spat out blood onto the floor, his uninjured hand going to touch his split lip and feel his bottom row of teeth.

“What do you what man?” He cried out, his face a picture of pain painted red as his bloodied finger tips felt his jaw and cheek.

“Nothin’.” Anakin shrugged, picking up a chair and tossing it on its side, bracing himself on the table to jump down on one of the legs to break it off.

“Ooh look.” He laughed, shaking the splintered chair leg in Joel’s face, “Got a screw in it.”

“Come on, Joel.” Anakin groaned kicking him in the stomach. “You’re not making this any fun for me.”

“You’re a fucking psycho!” He grunted, curling up into a ball to protect his middle.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Anakin gritted out through bared teeth.

“You don’t know me!” Anakin shouted, bringing the chair leg, screw side down on the man below him, over and over again, red blooms soaking through his light blue shirt.

“But I know you.” Anakin kneeled down gripping Joel’s hair and slamming his face down against the tile, blood spurting from his nose and sending him into a stupor.

“Where’s it stop for you huh?” Anakin asked, pinning his arm in place on the ground with one knee on Joel’s elbow and slowly, so, so, slowly bending his arm back.

Feeling the tension of his muscles and the protestation of his bone Anakin gritted his teeth, holding Joel’s arm by the wrist just before the breaking point.

“It’s not enough for you to go around selling drugs to kids, you hit your girlfriend about four months ago and wound up with a little domestic that your daddy took care of for you.” Anakin grunted, snapping the elbow joint with a loud crunch and crack followed by a sharp scream from Joel that Anakin quieted with a foot to the face.

“So here I am,” Anakin hefted Joel up who weakly attempted to stand on his own two feet while Anakin held him under the arms and dragged him back into the living room, kicking him squarely in the chest down onto the glass coffee table. “getting rid of your dear old dad’s biggest disappointment and getting my fix in so I can be the best man I can for my pretty girl at home.”

“Now Joel, before you pass out...” Anakin crouched down and grabbed his jaw, slapping him to rouse him enough to pay attention, “I need the code to your lockbox.”

“W-will you leave me?” He slurred, drooling blood from the corner of his mouth, “Alone? Leave me alone?”

“Yeah sure.” Anakin shrugged.

“4-2-0-7” Joel panted, trying to get up and scoot away from his attacker, picking up shattered glass in the meat of hands, shards falling from his battered back.

“Whoa buddy slow down,” Anakin laughed, picking up the lockbox from beside the recliner and opening it up, shoving cash and as many baggies of various pills as he could into his pockets. “hold this for me.”

He tossed the lock box down on Joel’s chest and stifled a laugh at the pitiful choked sob that left him, the weight of it knocking the air from his lungs while Anakin trudged over the scattered glass.

He tossed the couch onto its back, swiped the various items on the kitchen counter off onto the floor, kicking it around and smearing blood over the counter top and cabinets, he grabbed his butterfly knife from where he’d tossed it aside, as well as a dirty skillet from the kitchen sink.

Smearing blood on the side of the skillet, he swung it like a bat at the wall in various places before making his way back to Joel who was fumbling with blood slicked fingers on his phone.

“Oh you stupid, stupid man.” Anakin snorted, snatching it from his hands he checked the screen and saw he hadn’t even been able to unlock it.

He tossed it up and swung his skillet-bat, a loud *Prrringg* rang out before it clattered to the ground somewhere near the hall to the back door.

“You said you’d leave.” Joel whimpered, holding his hands over his face.

“I lied.” Anakin said contempt dripping from his lips from behind the black bandana, tilting his head to the side.

“Hope you understand, I gotta beat the shit out of you with a few different things before I kill you.” Anakin sighed, “All this trouble when you could’ve just told me where your pistol was.”

“Shame.” He grunted, bringing the sharp edge of the skillet down on his ribs, arms, and legs.

“Please,” Joel wheezed, clutching at his side with his mangled arm tucked underneath him. “you don’t have to do this man, c’mon I ain’t done nothing to you!”

“I know I don’t have to, I want to.” Anakin pulled down his bandana for the first time during this attack just to flash Joel a smile.

He tossed the skillet somewhere to the right of them, grabbing Joel’s ashtray from beneath the shattered remains of the coffee table, cracking it over the back of his head.

“Shit, I hope you didn’t spend too much on that.” Anakin chuckled. “S’not real marble, look at that. Split right in half.” He tsk’d.

“Shall we end this now?” He took a deep breath, flicking out his knife.

“Why’d you do all that… just to kill me?” Joel cried, “don’t do it, please. I’ll- my dad, he’ll fix it okay?”

“I did all that, for fun.” Anakin said, gripping the knife firmly in his leather gloved hand, jamming it between Joel’s lower ribs, clamping his free hand over his mouth to muffle the blood-curdling scream he let out.

“Your dad ain’t fixing shit.” Anakin snorted, “he’s gonna be glad to be rid of you.”

“You’ve got another brother, nice guy. Works at the bank,” Anakin whistled lowly as he pulled out the blade at watched the blood gush out. “your dad wouldn’t admit it to your face of course; but I imagine he’ll be relieved when he hears the news.”

Joel sputtered and coughed up blood, gurgling the fluid in his open mouth as he choked. Deep crimson ichor drowning him from the inside.

“You’re making a mess.” Anakin grumbled, switching the grip on the blade. With one hand wrapped around the handles, the other palm on the end to put extra weight into the next motion.

“Hey.” Anakin nudged him with him knee, “open your eyes.”

The second he complied Anakin sank the blade straight into the brown of his iris, a shiver running over his flesh when he heard the *pop* when it pierced through.

“Figured you’d wanna see something pretty before you died.” Anakin grinned, putting his full upper body weight into the knife handle, driving it in as far as he could manage.

“Gross,” Anakin stood up, watching with a grimace as Joel seized, red foam oozing down his chin until he finally stopped convulsing. “fucking nasty.”

Anakin plucked his knife from the eye socket and cleaned the blade on the one unblemished patch of fabric of his victim’s shirt, tucking it into his back pocket. He surveyed the area, ensuring he’d created a believable enough scene, once he was satisfied he walked toward the backdoor, purposely shuffling and sliding his feet across the laminate to avoid full, solid foot prints.

“Hmm.” As he reached the end of the hall he spotted a large mason jar of change, he just couldn’t help himself from smacking it off the small entryway table it sat on, enjoying the sound of the coins scattering across the floor.

“Nice.” He grinned, a little pep in his step as he jumped to the grass from the top step.

In the corner of the backyard against the fence, Anakin pulled off his gloves and switched out his clothes and shoes, shoving the drugs, cash and dirty clothes into his bag.

He hopped the fence and walked as casually as he could down the sidewalk. Unable to wipe the smile from his lips, he was practically giddy, having gotten the biggest adrenaline rush he’d had in a long, long time. He felt free, he felt like a dark cloud had been blown away by a summer breeze. He felt like he could reach up and run his fingertips across the night sky, collecting up stars like pretty rocks to bring home to you.

He felt different. He felt changed. He felt alive.

And gods forgive him, he felt horny.

Part Twelve

Tag-List:

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THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

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[itsthestutterforme]

Should We Try Again? 1/2 (toxic!Rafe Cameron x toxic!reader)

Summary: Rafe tries to accuse you of cheating, and you did some snooping of your own. And when Rafe found out you went through his phone, you were in for it.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Topper is a really good friend in this fic, reader is black, dark themes (choking, threats, arguing, name calling, overall just toxic behavior)

If any of these making you uncomfortable, pls don’t read. Take care of yourselves.

**

You and Rafe had one of your fights again. The yelling match, screaming in each other’s face kind of fight.

The kind of fight where the police gets called because someone heard glass breaking and shouting.

This particular time, he logged into your Instagram and founded close to 50 DMs from guys commenting on your stories where you posted your OOTDs.

You never opened any of the DMs but there were too many to go unnoticed.

“Do you get off on having other guys want you or something? Huh?” He starts as he abruptly forces his way into the bathroom where you were showering.

“What are you talking about, Rafe?” You snark, ringing out the water from your hair.

“What the hell is this?” He rips the shower curtain open.

“Rafe!” You scold, shutting off the water so none leaks onto the floor. He shoves his phone in your face and repeats, “What the hell is this?”

“They’re DMs, Rafe. Why are you talking to me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did do something wrong by not blocking these sons of bitches. You like the attention, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut, asshole. It’s DMs. They don’t mean shit!”

You close the shower curtain so you can resume your shower when he ripped it open again.

“Oh it means something when they’re sending dick pics, Y/N! They want to fuck you!”

“It doesn’t matter if they want me because I’m with you, Rafe. Not them.” You tried to reason.

You were already exhausted from work and you really didn’t need this right now.

“You’ve been sending them nudes, haven’t you?” “Are you fucking serious, Rafe?” “Do I look like I’m joking right now?” He says flatly, his nose flaring angrily.

“No, I haven’t sent anybody nudes. I didn’t even know they sent me dick pics because I don’t open them, Rafe.” He gives you a pointed look and you crossed your arms as a challenge.

It was clear you weren’t going to shower in peace so why not add some fuel to this fire.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Shame on me for having fifty unopened DMs but everything is okay when you have hundreds of opened DMs?” You antagonize, slowly stepping out of the shower with suds still on your body.

You watch as his face fell for a few seconds before it hardens once again.

“You’ve been going through my phone?” He asks. “Of course I have! Because I know you’ve been in my phone, desperate to find secrets to use against me. So I figure why not dig up some secrets of my own.”

“Y/N,” he warns lowly, taking a step towards you.

“What did you find?” He wrote down a few things about the cross.

Like where he’s already looked and potential places where it might be. But he hid those notes behind a passcode in his journal.

There were also a few texts of Ward asking ‘if it was taken care of’. Garret’s body.

There was no way you could figure out the passcode, right?

“What are you so scared I would find?” You questioned, purposely being vague. There was no point in being specific, if he was going to connect the dots for you.

His anxiety got the best of him and he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a warning squeeze.

“Stop being cute and tell me what you saw.” He orders.

There wasn’t a constant pressure so you were able to breathe fairly normal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind.

“I only went through your social media and some of your messages. Nothing else.” His hand twitched around your throat when you mentioned messages.

“I just wanted to see if you were texting others girls.” You added, wrapping your hands around his wrist.

“What else?” “Nothing else, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.” “I’m not lying to you.” He pulls away from your throat and you instinctively touched your collar bone.

His gaze softens when you stepped away from him. He itched to get close to you and apologize for over reacting, but he still wasn’t sure that you didn’t know about the gold and the bodies.

So his hands remained by his sides, tightening every so often.

“What are you protecting?” You asked cautiously. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He states before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the front door of your house.

That was a few days ago, and you haven’t spoke to each other since. The most interaction you’ve had was him viewing your story. That’s it.

You’ve been going straight home after work, not wanting to interact with anyone unless you had to.

But a small part of you wished you’d come home to Rafe waiting for you on your door step or him come to see you during your break.

But he never did. That was enough for you to come to the conclusion that he stopped caring about you.

He was so worried about protecting something or someone that was willing to choke you out to protect it.

You’ve seen him anxious about a few things but nothing set him off like you did that night.

You were watching one of your comfort movies with your fleece blanket wrapped around you, eating some stir fry you ordered on UberEats when your phone chimed.

Topper: hey you doing okay?

Tossing the phone back on the bed, you used the chopsticks to dip a piece of beef into the speciality sauce before eating it.

Your phone chimed again.

Topper: We were friends before you started dating Rafe, remember? I care about you too.

You: I assume Rafe told you everything?

Topper: Just that you had an argument and you’re on a break

You: Well that’s an oversimplification.

Topper: I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come.

You: I’m not exactly in the mood to get hit on by a bunch of drunk dudes.

Topper: Stick by me and you won’t have that problem.

You: You’re right. Instead, you would have a Rafe sized problem.

Topper: I’m not scared of Rafe.

Topper: Just come by for a few. It makes me feel uneasy that you’re by yourself at home all this time.

Topper: Please.

You: Fine, Topper.

Topper: Great! I’m on my way.

**

You hated yourself for how quick your eyes locked in on Rafe as soon as he walked into the party wearing a navy blue shirt and a white hat that matched his white cargo shorts.

He dapped up a few guys that greeted him by the front door and looked straight up to where you were sitting next to Topper.

He found you almost immediately with an expressionless face.

Your heart skipped a beat that he looked for you but that feeling of elation left you as quickly as it came.

He didn’t reach out to you for three days. No call. No text. No apology. He was done and now it was your turn to feel the same.

“You two are like magnets,” Topper says from behind you. “Toxic ones,” he eventually adds with a chuckle.

“I knew you were going to say that,” you teased, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Sadness kicked your gut when two girls approached Rafe, one of them ran her hands over his chest as she went to whisper something in his ear.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” You said when you notice Rafe coming up the stairs with the girls.

“I’ll come with you,” you gave him a look. “What? I meant it when I said stick by me. Let’s go.”

He lets you lead the way and you go down the second set of stairs but you stopped abruptly, peering down at your jewelry.

Everything you were wearing was gifted to you by Rafe, even down to the earrings. You still wore the R golden plate necklace and matching anklet. You had his signet ring on your thumb because that was the only finger it could fit.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Topper questions. Rafe was watching the entire interaction from the loveseat you and Topper were just sitting on.

You bent down to take off your anklet and moved to take off your earrings next.

“Can you help me take off the necklace?” You asked, pulling off the ring and placing it with the other jewelry.

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing your passion twists out of the way.

You felt his warm hand brushing against the back of your neck when he unclasped the necklace.

He put the necklace in your outstretched hand. You walked back up the few stairs you crossed and approached Rafe whose eyes were still trained on you.

You let out a shaky breath before taking his warm hand into your own and giving him the jewelry. You were beginning to miss his touch.

Guilt flashed across his face, looking down at his hand. You avoided his gaze and left him without another word, rushing down the stairs and Topper followed after you.

“Well that was dramatic,” one of the girls says, rolling her eyes while her friend eyes the gold carat in Rafe’s hand that easily amounted to 75k.

“Can I have the earrings?” She asked and before Rafe could respond, she reached for them anyway.

Rafe caught her hand in a tight grip and she whimpers at the pressure.

“You’re hurting me,” she groans.

“No one told you to touch what’s hers,” he shoves her to the ground. “Hey! You asshole!” Her friend snaps, standing from the couch and helps her friend to her feet.

He doesn’t spare them another glance as he digs in his pocket for a baggie to do a few lines.

“Y/N,” Topper calls, finally catching up with you in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He asks you, examining your face for anything he could read.

“You should check on him,” you poured yourself a shot in a small solo cup and knocked it back, barely making a face.

“I’m checking up on you,” “It needed to be done, okay. All of it were just reminders of what I don’t have anymore.” You explain, pouring yourself another shot.

“That was very brave for you to do.” “Then why do I feel like shit?” You huffed after taking another shot and he stops you from pouring another one.

“Because the break up is still fresh, Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re going to fall apart before his very eyes.

His soft eyes examines your face for any micro expression that could give away what you’re thinking.

“Look, Top. I know you’re trying to help and all but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to cry.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I want to enjoy your party. Your birthday is tomorrow. You shouldn’t be spending it watching me cry.”

“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving you.” He shakes his head and you took his hands into yours, much like you did with Rafe.

But Rafe’s hand were warmer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend. I’ll find Sarah.” He studied your face once again and you gave him a soft smile.

“Go,” “Alright,” he says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’ll come find you in like ten minutes.”

“Take your time,” he leaves the kitchen and you let out a deep sigh. You shouldn’t be here.

But you didn’t have the heart to ditch Topper on his birthday rager.

You pressed your palms into the cool, granite countertop and bowed your head to release the tension in your neck.

You hadn’t realize someone was in the kitchen with you until you heard footsteps and someone’s low voice. To your surprise, it was Pope standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” You asked softly, the shot were slowly starting to get to you.

“I said you are too pretty and insanely smart to be treated like an option.”

That was the nicest thing anyone said to you. You haven’t felt valued in a long time.

“Thanks, Pope. That really means a lot.”

His mouth fell open at your words. “You know who I am?”

“Yes I know who you are. Your family makes the best seafood boils in town.” You explained with a chuckle.

“She knows my name,” he said to himself, which he quickly realized you can hear.

“I should haven’t said that out loud,” he admits and you let out a laugh.

“You’re cute,” he scratches the back of his neck to hide how flustered he way. “Um, are you hiding from Rafe in here?”

“Yes, I am.” You admitted, crossing your arms. “Well if you want some company, my friends are by the bonfire outside. If you want to join. O-only if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything or-“

You interrupted his rant to say, “Sure. I’ll go with you.” You took a solo cup and swung by the keg on the way out, offering some to Pope.

“By the way, what makes you think I’m insanely smart?” “I’m a TA for Mr. Patterson. He still uses your test as a grading key.” He explains after taking a swig of your beer.

“Of course he does. I loved his class.” You admitted with a chuckle. “What is this?”

JJ stands from the chair and motions between you and Pope with his ringed pinky.

“I told her she can hang out with us.” “Hey, JJ.” You greet with a small wave.

“‘Sup, sweetheart. Want a hit?” He offered a blunt to you and you graciously accepted.

He had a grin on his face as he watched you take a hit. He expected you to cough or at least have your eyes water from the potency but much to his surprise, you exhaled the puff of smoke slowly without a fuss.

The mix of the weed and the tequila was throwing your head in a spin. “Never pegged you to be a pothead,” “I’m full of surprises, Maybank.”

A drunk Rafe stumbles outside in search for you when he finds you laughing with Pope and JJ.

JJ noticed your shivering whenever there was a breeze and peeled off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Rafe wasn’t even aware what was happening until his vision started to blur.

He was crying.

#black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron x you

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Date night

Pairings: Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: You make Eddie take you to a haunted house.

Warning: fluff, mention of weed

Prompt: “…You’re cutting off the circulation in my arm.” “Oh? S-sorry. Just… "Got a little tense, is all. I swear I’m not scared, though! Why would I be scared of fake shit like that, anyway? What do you take me as— AHH! FUCKING GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKHOLE—”

A/n: I wanted to try and do a little fall/halloween blurb from this prompt list. Not proofread.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Eddie shrieked as a scary clown with sharp pointed teeth jumps out from behind a wall.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he mumbled behind you, clutching his heart.

"Oh, c'mon Ed, it's not that bad they're just people in costumes." You giggle, leading the way through the haunted house.

Eddie had promised to take you out on a date, letting you pick wherever you wanted to go. What he didn't expect was your first and only choice being Hawkins new haunted house. He tried to persuade your mind on going to the pumpkin patch instead, but your mind was already made up. He was taking you to that haunted house.

Eddie pretended like scary stuff didn't bother him much. He could sit down with you and watch scary movies all night long. Only jumping when a masked killer appeared from out of nowhere. He played it off like he was re-adjusting to get more comfortable.

You always knew he was actually more scared than he led on because after your movie night, the lights in his home stayed on. He didn't care if his Uncle Wayne came home and threw a fit. Those lights were not getting shut off until the sun was out.

You, on the other hand, loved any and all things scary. Halloween was your absolute favorite time of year. Which is why Eddie tried his best to enjoy it just as much as you did. He loved seeing you weirdly giddy at the sight of people in zombie costumes. How you jumped for joy and excitement standing in line to see a new horror movie at the theater.

Now, as you both make your way down, different hallways covered in various props. Fake blood splattered on the walls and spooky sounds playing on the speakers, setting the perfect mood. Scare actors chasing or popping out from around different corners.

The sound of others screaming ahead of you, alterting what's about to come next. A giant smile plastered on your face as you make your way through the house while Eddie tagged along behind you very closely. His eyes closed most of the time, and his heart beating a mile a minute.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you owe me big time." He spoke while hesitantly peaking down an empty hallway, making sure no one was lurking.

"Fine, what do I owe you?" You sighed, turning your head to look at him.

He paused, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, please, as if you didn't get enough already yesterday." You rolled your eyes, taking his hand guiding him around another dark corner. There were fake arms and legs hanging from the ceiling. Every once in a while, his head would bump into one, and you'd hear a quiet "ew" from behind.

"I could never get enough, especially if it's coming from you." He bent down to whisper in your ear.

"I literally made you tomato soup yesterday. Now you want it again?" It's not even cold enough yet for soup."

"I want gold fish to put in it this time and add that green stuff that looks like bad weed," He added proudly as his head bumped yet again into another fake arm dangling from the ceiling.

"Oh, you mean the green stuff that looks like your weed." You teased.

You heard him gasp from behind you, and before he even had a chance to argue back, a girl with long black hair covering her face popped out from a fake mirror on the wall, making him shrill with fear. He gripped your arm so tight you swear it's losing going to go numb.

"…You’re cutting off the circulation in my arm."

"Oh? S-sorry. Just… "Got a little tense, is all. I swear I’m not scared, though! Why would I be scared of fake shit like that, anyway?" He motions around, letting go of you. He's trying to gain his composure as if he hasn't been terrified the entire time. Pretending like he was never scared in the first place, but you know the truth. Those screams were genuine fear coming from within him.

He goes to continue on, "What do you take me as— AHH! FUCKING GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKHOLE—"

You swear you've never seen him move this fast before. His body probably resembled something of a blur to the others you were sure of it. You couldn't help but chuckle a little as he ran through the entire place until the glowing exit sign was in sight. Maybe you should have picked the pumpkin patch for date night instead.

Before Eddie could finish, a large man with a fake chainsaw creeps up from behind him. The buzz from the saw startling him so bad that he takes you by the hand and bolts through the house. Running down corridors and various small rooms filled with people dressed like grotesque monsters.

They reached for him before they even noticed you. Eddie never stopped screaming and cursing as he made a beeline through the house with your hand tightly in his. You heard him repeatedly reassure that he's going to get you out of here.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #my writing #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[theemporium]

Sirius Black was the bane of your existence.

In this world, it was a hunt or be hunted kind of world. Humans always assumed they were at the top of the food chain. They were ignorant and self-assured and always seemed to assume they were the predators everyone else should fear. They were stupidly arrogant with their own worth, and it was what made them the perfect prey for the true monsters at the top of the food chain—the vampires.

But that was where your kind came in, the true predators at the top of the food chain. 

You were the hunters. You were the ones who got rid of the fanged pests that roamed the Earth. You were the ones to protect the humans, to rid the world of the monsters that were nothing but parasites. 

And you were a good hunter. 

You were trained from a young age to be a killer of the killers. You were trained to be ruthless, merciless, unforgiving when it came to vampires. You were trained to evade their manipulations, to outsmart them, to beat them even if they are stronger and faster and older. You were trained to spot these monsters before you could even write your own name. 

It was your destiny, your fate, your legacy.

“Gonna poke me with your wee stick, love?” 

But for a reason that was beyond your understanding, the one vampire that always seemed to slip away was Sirius Black.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, panting softly as you straddled the boy with your knees pinning his arms to his sides and the stake in your hand just hovering over his chest. 

“What if I like the sound of my own voice?” He retorted, a teasing grin on his face as he looked far too relaxed for someone who was potentially seconds away from dying. 

It had been like a sick cat-and-mouse game. You would find him and trap him and have him in your grasp, and then he would slip away. He loved it. You hated it. But now you got him when he least expected it. The woods were currently swarming with other hunters that were looking for him, but now you had him. 

“I would say sorry to your ears,” you replied bluntly, pushing the tip of the stake deeper into his chest—just enough to make him a little hiss.

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathed out with a laugh. “You really don’t play about it.”

You ignored him, eyes narrowing in focus. “Any last words, Black?” 

“I have many words I would like to say to you,” Sirius confessed, the smirk still plastered on his face. “But I have a feeling they will just make you kill me faster.”

“You don’t seem scared,” you noted in annoyance.

“Why would I be scared when you’re on top of me, love?” Sirius remarked, watching in amusement at the way your face faltered a little with his words. “I happen to like attractive women sitting on me.” He paused as his grin widened. “Or on my face.”

“You’re gross,” you commented with a frown.

“But you’re not that disgusted, are you, love?” Sirius snapped back, raising his brows in a teasing manner when you fell quiet. “I can smell you, love. I know exactly how my words make you feel. I can hear how fast your heart is beating.”

“That’s just adrenaline,” you argued weakly.

“You want something that really gets your heart racing?” Sirius questioned, flashing you a glimpse of the sharp teeth poking his bottom lip. 

You barely had a chance to react before he had flipped you both over. Your body was pinned to the ground, the stake long gone and Sirius now covering your body with his own. He had your wrists pinned above your head, his other hand slowly tracing down your face despite you trying to jerk away from his touch.

“I could rip your throat out,” he mused as his fingers gently traced over your pulse point. “One move and you could be dead before you could even think about screaming for help.”

You squirmed beneath him. “Then do it.”

He just laughed, shaking his head. “But that’s not fun, sweetheart.” 

“Wanker,” you spat out, ready to say so much more until he rolled his hips against yours. An embarrassing noise left your lips, your cheeks burning when Sirius only grinned in response.

“Oh, you like that,” he hummed as he began to rock back and forth, letting out a low groan of pleasure. “Fuck, you don’t know how badly I wanted to fuck that attitude out of you.” 

You tried to pull on your wrists, tried to pull away from him but your attempts were weak, and you both knew that. You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t enjoy it or that this was a part of Sirius’ sick game before he killed you. 

But then his head dipped down to your neck, his fangs scraping over a sensitive spot below your ear and you were arching into him. 

In another flash, you were pressed against a tree. Your hands were still pinned above your head, not that you were really fighting his hold now. His dark eyes found yours, something heated and primal shining that had you clenching your thighs together.

“I would have done this ages ago if I knew it shut you up so easily,” he commented jokingly, but your witty retort was lost on your lips when he was slipping his hand beneath the waistband of your training leathers. 

It was embarrassing just how quickly he had you crumbling, how quickly you gave into his touch despite the years of training to evade and avoid vampires’ tricks—including seduction. But he knew just where to touch you, knew just what spots tipped you over the edge, knew just how to make you whimper in that pretty, high-pitched way that he always dreamed of.

And before you knew it, both of your clothes were long gone, ripped and abandoned somewhere on the woodland floor as he fucked you against the tree. 

“What would your lil’ hunter friends say now?” Sirius teased as he gripped your thighs and guided your legs around his waist. “What would they say if they saw what a slut you were for some vampire cock?”

“Fuck you,” you muttered out between breathless moans as he thrusted into you, your tits bouncing with each move.

“I already am, sweetheart,” Sirius retorted, looking far too smug for your liking but you couldn’t even bring yourself to say anything. “And don’t you look fucking gorgeous when you’re all fucked out. My new lil’ toy, aren’t you, love?”

You whined, shaking your head but your walls clenching around his cock said another story.

“Gonna keep you around, sweetheart,” Sirius groaned, his teeth nipping your skin enough to make you choke on a gasped moan. “My pretty, cock-hungry hunter, hm? Think all my buddies are gonna be jealous.”

“Sirius,” you whimpered, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten at his filthy words. 

“Gonna fuck that stupid hunter training out of your head, love. You’re gonna be my cock-drunk whore, hm? My pretty slut.” 

And he could only take your response as a solid yes as you came on his cock, completely under his seduction and control.

.

#cece's smutober #sirius black #marauders #harry potter #hp #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #sirius black smut #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders one shot #marauders smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter one shot #harry potter smut #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot #hp smut

[harrysdaydream-tpwk]

“I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch- H.S”

summary: Harry and you argue after his show at Wembley and he gets jealous and pissy. Angst ensues

warnings: arguments, swearing, angst with a happy ending

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The door slammed shut behind him, his footsteps heavy, even on the carpeted floor. You sighed, tired and weary. It had been a long night and by the looks of it, it was about to get even longer.

Harry huffed, taking off his shoes with more force than necessary, throwing them in the general direction of his open suitcase. He wasn’t wearing the colourful outfit anymore, looking much more like yours in the black nike shorts and worn-out t-shirt you’ve seen far too many times on him. You stood in the doorway between the ensuite bathroom and the bedroom, watching him quietly as he ran his fingers through his brown hair repeatedly-noting it had get even longer since the last time you saw him.

He looked up at you finally, his eyes stormy and half-lidded. He was mad, furious even and you weren’t totally sure why. You hadn’t seen him for three weeks, the tour taking a toll on your relationship and you had hoped this night would’ve at least be a change to your boring office life, a moment with the man you loved so dearly.

“What is your problem?”, you said demanding, sounding harsher than intended. Your arms were crossed in front of your chest, you yourself still dressed in the outfit you had chosen for tonight’s show. A pink, puffy dress, matching cowboy boots and hat. Hell, you had even put on a boa, going all out.

“My-“, he breathed out, before getting louder, “My problem? What the hell is your problem? We haven’t seen each other in almost a month and you already go around flirting with other guys? At my own damn show nonetheless?” He stood up from where he was sat on the king sized bed, taking a step closer to you.

“What?”, you sputtered unbelievingly. “What the fuck are you even talking about? All I did was talk to your mum and your sister, I haven’t seen either of them since Christmas and you just accuse me of things that didn’t even happen? Fuck you.” Tears gathered in your eyes and he noticed, faltering slightly.

“I saw you”, he started, pointing his finger at you,” Talking to him. I don’t know who he was, I don’t even care. I just know you were laughing pretty hard at his jokes or whatever he was telling you. A little too much to just be friendly.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Ryan-“

He interrupted you before you could even finish. “Oh, Ryan”, he mocked, “Is that his name? Gotta be careful you don’t start moaning his name the next time we fuck.”

He was getting really worked up now, the vain on his forehead popping and you were getting angrier by the minute too. He had always been jealous, even a little possessive, and it was getting on your nerves.

“Ryan is an old friend from school, you asshole. You know him, I invited him to my birthday party two years ago. He’s gay, Harry, so he’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in him. It’s just a coincidence, he told me you were really nice to him when he met you and that he wanted to support you. Although, I don’t expect him to think so highly of you if he knew what you’re throwing at me right now.” You took a deep breath in, the tears finally breaching free. You couldn’t keep them in any longer.

You were exhausted, travelling from home to see him at Wembley, his concert of two hours and then this argument on top of it. The weak and selfish part of you just wanted him to hold you, while the bigger part just wanted to yell at him some more. You missed him and he was treating you so unfairly.

“I missed you”, you whispered, “I just wanted to spend the night with you peacefully, you’re my home, Harry. Why don’t you ever make me feel like I’m yours too?” You let out a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth defeated.

“Oh. Oh, Y/N.” His eyes were soft now, staring at you unnervingly. “Here, sit down, my love. You look like you’ll fall over any minute.” He guided you to a chair nearby, pushing you down gently.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered, kneeling before you. His face was illuminated by the lights of London outside the big hotel window. “This tour has taken a toll on me, I missed you so much more, Y/N, you have to believe me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just got so upset over the thought of you with someone else. I’m so selfish, I wish I could have you by my side everyday, you know? I love you and I never want to hurt you, not like this. Not over something I have so obviously perceived wrongly.”

You laughed wetly, your make-up probably smudged, making you look like a hot mess. “You know, I’m starting to think that you were right when you sang that you were just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit that he’s sorry.” He chuckled quietly, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“I forgive you”, you said, kissing his palm, which was still holding your face gently, “But never say something like this to me again. I’d never cheat on you, not in a million chances. You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine. We’ve got to figure out a way to see each other more, even when I’m touring and you’re working. I can’t go a day without you, without missing your beautiful face.”

You smiled softly, leaning down and he took the invitation to press a gentle, closed- mouthed kiss to your lips, a promise you understood, you accepted.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

lmk what you think<3 haven’t written in a while so i’m a bit rusty! i’m also working on a larger project that should hopefully be up in a few weeks. until then i’ll try my luck with smaller blurbs and one shots. enjoy!<3

#harry styles fanfictio #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction rec #harry styles wembley #harry styles concert #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

[training4theapocalypse]

And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence

Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)

A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.

Masterlist

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Chapter text:

Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.

“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.

Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”

It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.

“Nod if you understand me.”

You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy. 

God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.

He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate. 

Shit.

The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side. 

It’s him. 

You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat. 

It’s Vigilante.

You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.

And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat. 

“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”

“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”

You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.

He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.

“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.

“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”

Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.

“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Quiet!”

“What?!” says the woman on the phone.

“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”

“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”

“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”

You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”

Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?

“Where am I supposed to take her?”

“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”

You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.

“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”

“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.

You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Nope.”

You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.

His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.

“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.

“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy. 

The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great. 

“Can I-”

“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”

You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.

The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.

“Sit.”

You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.

“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself. 

“You’ve got information and I need it.”

“I really don’t have any sort of information.” 

He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”

“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older. 

You shake your head. 

“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.

“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”

“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.

“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”

He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”

You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.

“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”

“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music. 

“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists. 

“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?” 

You nod.

He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.

Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hey- don’t read my messages!”

“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.” 

Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”

“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”

Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.

Oh, god.

He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit. 

“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet. 

“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask. 

“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists. 

“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”

“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”

He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”

“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.

Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”

“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.

He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So what am I doing here then?”

“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”

Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.

You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.

“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.

“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”

You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.

“No.”

Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.

You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.

When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.

“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest. 

“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”

“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.” 

What are you doing? 

The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you. 

He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...” 

“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”

He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.

“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”

“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”

Pretty. 

You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.

“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”

“She’s not my boss.”

“Sounds like she is.”

“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”

“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”

You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”

“I thought you just got the coffee?”

“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”

“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”

You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.” 

“The way you want me to trust you?”

“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”

He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.

“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”

“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”

“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”

“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.

“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”

Vigilante chokes on his beer.

“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”

“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.

“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump i​​nto Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”

This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”

“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”

He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”

“Which one are you reading?”

“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”

He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”

“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”

You sip your drink and say nothing.

Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.

You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”

“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”

“This is real life.”

“You know what I mean.”

You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”

He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”

You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”

“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.” 

His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.

It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.

Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.

You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble. 

“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.

Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.

“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”

You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.

“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.

“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.

“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.

You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.

“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”

He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.

The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…

“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.

“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.

You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits. 

You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.

“Ow! Not so rough!” 

He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.

But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?

Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”

“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.

“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”

“Vigilante.” 

God damn.

You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything. 

You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him. 

He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.

You nod.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Vigilante.” 

He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt. 

“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.

He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.

“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.

You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.

“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”

Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.

His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.

Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings. 

The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”

Fuck.

He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.

“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”

Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.

“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”

You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.

“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”

He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips. 

“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise. 

“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.

Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.

His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”

And you do.

Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.

You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.

“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”

With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.

He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”

You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Who’s phoning you this late? 

He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”

Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?

“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”

Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”

“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”

His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”

“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.

“I dunno, like five grand?”

“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”

“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”

“Copy that,” he grins.

“Vigilante, what the f-”

He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.

“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”

“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Wait, you heard that?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well not until you give me the laptop.”

“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”

He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”

You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”

He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”

You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.

The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.

“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”

“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”

She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, boss. I love you.”

“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”

You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.

“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.

“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.

#vigilante x reader #vigilante #adrian chase x reader #vigilante peacemaker #adrian chase #vigilante x you #freddie stroma #fanfic #peacemaker #vigilante x female reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase imagines #adrian chase x y/n

[javarium]

Occupational Hazard | Pedro Pascal.

Note(s): Comedian! Reader, Large but Legal Age Gap (MC is 30+), Female Reader, mentions of assault and injury, Pedro and MC are engaged 💍 (also, more often than not, when you ask for no salt on the fries at a fast food place (where I’m at anyway), the fries are always hot and fresh), wrote this in a span of, like, two days so it’s not proofread! enjoy!

Summary: Being a successful comedian, you’ve made all sorts of jokes, especially ones at your own expense. But not everyone has the same sense of humor, and Pedro finds out how dangerous some of these people who find your jokes “offensive” are.

****

Pedro hadn’t expected your text message so late. He had just gotten home an hour prior, tired and exhausted. But after his shower, he heard the ding of the two minute reminder on his phone. He plucks his phone from the charge and reads: Would you be available right now? To pick me up? Had an incident tonight.

He’s dressed and out the door not even five minutes later, wet hair slicked back away from his face so his glasses wouldn’t get wet.

It unfortunately takes him thirty minutes to get to the comedy club where you were scheduled to have an event, much much longer than he wanted. But when he arrives, he’s ushered in by the guards that already know him and the fact you and him are in a relationship.

A female guard in plain clothes is waiting for him the moment he steps through the doors, more than likely the one who informed the ones outside you had sent for him and to let Pedro through.

A couple of twists and turns down some hallways and he’s at the stage where you do your work.

He grimaces to himself, and his heart fills with worry and concern.

Not even five seconds upon entering the room did your eyes lock onto his form, his presence something you’ve always noticed immediately regardless of his quiet he was — always seemed to know when he walked into a room, your soul practically locked onto his own.

When the doctor pulls away, finishing her job, Pedro sees the damage done: a full black eye that would be shut for several days and a split lip, with a nose almost broken with a dot of dried blood at your nostril. You’d probably have to go to the hospital in a day or two to have that checked out to make sure it healed properly.

Everyone pulls away from you like opposing magnets, leaving the room to give you both some privacy. He’s glad. He also doesn’t want them to see him pissed off, because he was almost fucking livid.

He pulls a chair from where the crowd sits and places it in front of you. You give him a smile through the pain, and he wants to kiss you so bad but your lip is split damn it—

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey yourself,” he whispers back, trying to smile back and not be angry. One hand is laced between the fingers of your left hand that has that pretty diamond engagement ring on it, his other cupping your cheek on the side that doesn’t have a black eye and rubbing your skin fondly. “What happened, baby?”

You shrugged. “Not everyone has the same kind of humor.”

Pedro raises his brows. “Meaning?”

You inhale heavily, releasing an equally heavy exhale.

“A guy got pissed at a deadbeat dad joke I made,” you said. “I guess he fit the criteria, knew it, and got pissed. Felt called out, I guess.”

His eyes go wide with shock. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You run your thumb over the skin of his hand and continue, “I think I’m gonna cancel my next three shows.”

Pedro’s against it the second the words leave your mouth. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am.” You give him a face, one he recognizes easily: you’re not going to budge, and there’s no point in him arguing. “I think he universe might be telling me to take a break.”

He nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, you’ve been going as hard as me lately. I’m starting to think this line of work is more dangerous than what I do.”

You slap his shoulder in a light and childish manner. “Oh, shut up. You do a lot more taxing work than I do.”

“But you’ve done a lot more shows than you have in the last, what, year?” Pedro argues this time. “That’s a fucking lot. Not even I’m sure I could handle that much moving around the states so fast.”

You jab back, “That’s why I pack lightly, baby.”

He laughs. “Har har. Got me there…” Pedro leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. “I love you, mi princesa.”

You giggle, warmth flooding to your cheeks at Pedro’s affection and soft declaration of love for you.

You almost get to say it back, but he grins cheekily because he already knows and proceeds to ask, “Want some McDonald’s?”

You stand to your feet immediately. “I want two twenty piece McNuggers, two fries without salt, and a big-ass Sprite.”

“You eat too damn much.” Pedro snorts, smiling ear-to-ear. “And you and your no-salt on the fries, I swear.”

“It’s better that way!” you reply, mock offended. “And you get them fresh, too! That salt isn’t any good for high blood pressure anyway.”

“Whatever you say,” he remarks. “So, McDonald’s in the car, go home, shower, and cuddle with a movie on until we fall asleep?”

You love him — absolutely and positively love him. This man knows how to make your bad days better like the back of his hand.

“Sounds perfect.”

You’re so glad to have him. You’re the luckiest woman in the world, no doubt, to call such a perfect man yours.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #real person fiction #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal fluff #pedro rpf x reader #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller tlou #female reader

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:07

Fluff, Bakugou x female reader

Part 7 of the Broken Collection

The sun was invading the room, working its way through shut blinds and tinted skylights. A few random sun-catcher born rainbows danced around, waltzing with your well-fed and usually lethargic cat. Faux thunder bounced around your apartment, filling the space with the usual background noise. The coffee from earlier was long gone, switched for tea so you wouldn’t feel wired. The bottom of the mug was just barely visible through the final liquid attempts of calming. You groaned and let your head rest on the just-scrubbed granite countertop. This…wasn’t…working.

Normally on a weekend morning, you’d have just enough time to get a few things done before heading into the office. But now? Now you were at the mercy of the Balancing Heroes program Ashido had volunteered the agency for. To be fair, you did sign off on it too. As if you could tell an excited Uravity “no”? She was so happy for her first wellness initiative to be in a real testing phase. At the time, you thought that’d make it worth it. But, apparently, this program was designed to unravel you.

“Heroes balancing the weight of responsibility and the benefits of restoration.” You mumbled the pamphlets hook. Essentially they had divided up maps and agencies, triangulating areas that were then put on a rotating schedule. All complicated, but made it so each of three agencies covered the area with five days mandatory and two days off. There were more details you let Ashido take care of, regarding the priority of on call heroes. One thing was unavoidable and set in stone…you had two full days off in a row. You couldn’t go to the agency. You couldn’t be called in. You weren’t allowed to be on duty unless there was a natural disaster. One thing you were allowed to do was to absolutely lose your mind.

You rolled your head to the side at the clicking and clacking of toe nails…claws technically. A whine accompanied a pair of wide and unblinking brown eyes. Her feathered tail stood at attention before shuddering through a low growl.

“You restless too?” You laughed as she sneezed and stamped a paw. “Such a clever girl. A walk’s a great idea.”

You decided on a longer walk with no real destination in mind, letting your canine daughter tug you along. She got her leash wound through a familiar blossom-less tree. She sniffed at a recognizable mail drop-off point. She stopped and took in her reflection of wide windows you walked by every-Fuck…you weren’t being tugged at all. You were walking a fucking patrol route. The leash jerked in the direction you’d just come from.

“You’re right. Let’s get outta here before-“

The furry traitor was already sitting before a pair of black and orange boots. Her tail sweeping the sidewalk like it was her job. You could only imagine the face she was making at the man she was still in love with. Your lips pulled into a smile as she spun her head in small circles, unable to decide where she wanted him to scratch her first. He squatted down to give her both hands and his face. If he were weaker, it might’ve been a mistake. However, the years of training didn’t go to waste against the attempted tackles of excitement. His body stayed put as she lost her god damn mind.

“Knew I was still your fuckin’ favorite.” You clicked your tongue, but didn’t bother getting dragged into this eternal fake argument. He never got tired of this special treatment he received. “And I knew you’d show up.” His eyes were focused on you now as his gloves still worked on a pair of ears.

You scowled, but couldn’t argue that he was wrong. You were literally here…halfway through a patrol route you were not supposed to be anywhere near today.

“She wanted a walk.”

“On route number 26?”

“Coincidence.” You shrugged, shouldering the weight of the lie.

“Obviously.” He looked back down into the other pair of eyes locked onto him. “You’re off tomorrow too.”

It wasn’t a question. Also he seemed to have already moved on, mumbling things you couldn’t hear to the TRAITOR you had raised. Silence pushed its way between you…or what would’ve been silence if it weren’t filled with whines and panting.

“Can you help me with something?”

“Yes!”

You heated immediately for a few reasons: You didn’t know if he was talking to you or your dog. You jumped at an unknown task way too quickly. Also, did he have to look at you like that???

These days off were gonna’ ruin you.

Masterlist

Next part

#bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bnha fluff #bnha #bnha drabbles #bakugou drabbles #bnha bakugou

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Pt. 6, "I don't wanna share."

“Ok, I need to bring you back down to Earth for a sec, Daisy.”

An audible groan passed through my lips as I rolled my eyes, “Here we go.”

“No, listen,” Sasha poked at my bicep, which was propped up so I could hide behind my arms just a little bit, “listen, listen. You obviously need to hear this-”

“You were the one telling me that I needed to let loose! This is me- letting loose! Going with the flow. Being chill!” I sounded exasperated, which didn’t help my defensive case. I didn’t know how many times I could reiterate the same point until the words didn’t carry any meaning.

“Yeah, no, I did say that!” She gestured with her pretty pink nails, “but letting loose and being in a situationship are not the same things. In fact, I would argue that they are complete opposites.”

“And I would argue,” I looked to her, pointedly, “that they are not. That this isn’t even a situationship in the first place.”

Sasha snorted, eyes crinkling shut for a moment. Then, she remembered herself and got a little more serious. “Ok, listen,” she shook her shoulders, “do you have feelings for him?”

There was no question here. I didn’t have to think about it. I knew I had feelings for him from the moment he had kissed me in that hallway, the air conditioning humming like a taunting melody beneath our breathless sighs. Despite how quickly the confirmation fell through my lips, little flashes of memories reeled at the front of my mind.

Oliver and I in his hotel room, his gentle hands wetting a towel and carefully, like I was glass, swiping my skin clean.

Oliver and I in the shower, supple kisses on my collarbones and the back of my neck as he lathered soap through my hair.

Oliver and I on the roof, the bright lights of Paris and the faint sounds of a violin playing on the streets below us guiding our hips through a dance that felt as natural as the air that blew through my hair.

Oliver whispering my name into my ear, Oliver tucking me into his bed, Oliver throwing out his cigarettes and being one week clean. Oliver begging me to come to a show, promising to show me some of his new music if I’d just come.

Oliver telling me that if I came to the show this Friday, he’d let me sign my name across his ribcage, and paint over it with midnight black, sealing clean a secret that burned for our eyes only, barely visible beneath what looked to be the night sky on his skin.

“And does he have feelings for you?” Sasha hummed in response.

“I…don’t know. I think so…”

Oliver’s words in my memory-

“You’re so fucking pretty…pretty like a flower. I can smell the pollen in your skin. It makes my nose tingle,” His nose in my neck.

“Everytime you smile at me, I feel it, Daisy. The moment you walked out of that airport…I- just. I’m stuck in this vicious cycle, and you’ve thrown me for a loop,” his fingers on my cheeks.

“Do you dress up for Halloween? Go to any University parties? I swear, all you need is a white dress and some angel wings, and you’re set. You better send me photos if you fulfill my idea. I’d build a fucking shrine for it, for you…bring down heaven, so they can reclaim you,” his hands in my hair, tracing a halo between my temples…

“Probably.”

Sasha pursed her lips, raised her brows, as she watched me question myself, “Girl. From what you’ve told me? Hmph. Anyways…he doesn’t want to be with you-”

“Can’t,” I looked away, almost shamefully. Then, my voice was quiet, “can’t be with me.”

“Okay,” she scoffed, more or less under her breath, to help me save face. But I heard it. I rubbed my hands together slowly, as if prodding at my skin would somehow help my confidence in the situation.

Sasha took a slow sip of her coffee, only pushing me further to the edge of my seat in anticipation as she analyzed my situation more and more. Then, finally, the big question, the gut-punch, the lemon in my papercut, “Why?”

The same question I’d been asking myself for…nearly two months now? Yeah. Two months. 8 weeks. Three cities (four?) The lines were beyond blurred. I was beyond blurred, eyes bleary, head cloudy. I thought that seeing Sasha would help me clear my mind a little bit. But, she had the same thoughts I did- though hers were a little more on the offense than mine. A little more verbal than I allowed my own to be. She seemed to be clear on the fact that what Oliver was asking of me was wrong. And I didn’t agree.

It’s not like he was manipulating me or taking advantage of me. He asked for my consent just about every time he even breathed in my direction, ensuring I was okay more times than was probably necessary. Besides, I was a mature, independent, smart adult- I wouldn’t allow myself to be put in a situation that would jeopardize my well-being and mental health.

(So why did it still feel so wrong?)

I was incredibly antsy to see Sasha all summer. We’d been internet friends for nearly 10 years and had only hung out once, when she visited the states 5 years ago. Now, here I was- in her home country for a whole entire month. And, luckily, she had a little bit of free time on the weekends and evenings to entertain me. In her own words, her goal over the next month was to get me on her side, to change my point of view. I just wanted to eat some croissants and buy expensive cheese. We had very different ideas of fun.

“Why, Daisy.” A statement because she knew the answer, too, and was trying to force me to come to terms with it by vocalizing it.

“Girl, I don’t know,” I settled for humor.

Sasha blew a bubble of air from between her lips, the ends of her styled side bangs ruffling about. She crossed her eyes as she peeled a strand from her bottom pout, all stuck in her lip gloss. Meanwhile, she replied, “Get real. You have a degree in analyzing human behavior. You read people like a book after just one glance in their direction. Why? Just tell me. You know it. Why-”

“Because he has an attachment disorder. Debilitating anxiety and depression. Terrible coping mechanisms. The tendency to victimize himself intentionally for attention. And I’m feeding into it. I’m giving him what he wants. I’m catering to his insecurities by fucking babying him and treating him like glass.”

In another universe, I said all that. I confronted the issue at hand and told Oliver no when he later texted me to come over.

But, in this timeline-

I shrugged. Sasha got frustrated with the situation and moved on, to shoes or shopping or something else.

I went back to the hotel. Ate dinner with everyone.

Oliver texted me. At his beck and call, I went up to his room. A dog to a bone. A dog to a dead bird, in my teeth.

And I ignored what I knew was true for about a week. It was easy, up until that point. The way he touched- the way he silently loved me- it was all enough to hold nothing against him.

Yet, enough to despise him for everything he was putting me through.

-

“Daisy…”

His words were a whisper on the back of my neck, awakening me with a sharp inhale of breath between my lips.

I gained my bearings as my eyes flew open. My tired vision slowly adjusted to the surroundings of Oliver’s hotel room, a familiar sight, sure, but never at this time of day.

I was sent into a frenzy from the realization that it was the morning time and I was still in his room, sleeping at his side, with his arm tucked securely around my waist.

“Wha-” I sat up slightly, leaning the back of my shoulder blades against the headboard. Oliver’s arms slid over my lap, his skin cold against the edge of my stomach. “What time is it?” I looked down to him, expecting a panic to be apparent on his face.

He just smiled up at me, “Only 10.”

My eyes widened. The beat of my heart picked up its pace as I instantly thought of my brother, my empty bed in our room. He was more than awake at this time of day and probably panicked, looking for me. Soon enough, he’d come knocking on Oliver’s door and we’d be found out.

I knew this would happen. We’d been pushing our luck far too much these past few weeks, as the tour traveled from Germany to Paris. It was like being in the city of love had heightened our cravings. Oliver’s, especially, were feral. He treated me, sometimes, like a prey that needed hunting. That all-consuming affection was so filling, so much so that I forgot how unhealthy it could end up being. No matter- we were having fun. But, my brother and his friends were still somewhat of a threat. Who knows how they’d react? Who knows what it could mean for Oliver and I?

Oliver noticed my panic and sat up so he could cradle my chin in his hands, “Hey, hey, hey- love, we’re okay. Sam stopped by like an hour ago to tell me he and Ronnie were going to Versailles for the day. Said to look out for you cause you were probably traipsing around the city with Sasha.”

I took a deep, relieved breath, resulting in my shoulders to slouch just a bit. I leaned my face into Oliver’s palms more, feeling his breath fan out across my face. I liked him so much, I didn’t even care about morning breath.

“Oh, thank God,” I squeezed my eyes shut.

Oliver let out a deep chuckle before pecking my lips, “You know what that means?”

I met his gaze, eyeing his sly smile, “What does that mean?”

“We have the entire day to spend in the city. Together. Just you and I. No sneaking around in the dark or hanging out in this dingy hotel room.”

“Wait, really?” I sat up with excitement. Oliver’s hands slid off my face and he fumbled around with my hands.

He squeezed them gently, grinning as he watched the smile grow on my lips. A slow nod, “Really! We can be classic, cringey tourists! Don’t have to worry about running into your brother. Nor Cy, Adam, and Max. They’re all running some stuff at the venue. So- hurry! Get ready! We have so much time to spend and we’re wasting it in bed!”

“Oh, my God, I’m so fucking excited!” I shoved the covers off my body, standing to haphazardly tug on my clothes.

Oliver moved slowly, as he always did, just watching my buzzing body with a sweet grin. “Yeah?”

“Yes! I love spending time with you no matter where, but now we can finally be in the light of day together, like normal people! Like a nor-” I stumbled over my string of thoughts, coughing up something other than what I wanted to say, “like normal, human people!”

Like a normal couple.

That’s what I wanted to say. A Freudian slip- how silly of me!

We weren’t a couple. And what we had was anything but normal.

Oliver pretended like I didn’t choke over the letter c. Instead, he presented his own ideas for our day, “I think we should at least start with Cafe de Flore.”

My brows furrowed. My heart swelled. My stomach fluttered. I knew why it would be a good idea to start there. I knew I’d told him about it- just in passing- weeks ago, maybe even months. But, how did he know that?

“Why’s that?” I quizzed.

Oliver looked at me with an expression I can only describe as, ‘duh.’ “Because it’s gorgeous and historical and you’ve been wanting to go there all summer? We’ll grab breakfast.”

I distracted myself with verbalized, rambled lists and lists of everything we could do today. I couldn’t give into the emotions swirling all throughout my frenzied body. It would only spiral into overthought anxiety and confessions of a stupid fucking word I did not want to feel.

“Of course, we’re gonna have to walk all over the city to do all of this. I don’t wanna tire you out too much. I’ll pick, like, a section of the city and we’ll stick to it. Is that a good idea? Would that be oka-” I looked to him for approval, but he was scooping me into his arms, palms low on my waist, forehead dipping towards mine.

“I would walk a million miles for you, Daisy Hallett.”

I didn’t have time to think too much about his affectionate words before he was kissing me.

And, fuck, did he kiss me.

-

Oliver let me hold his hand.

Well, he didn’t let me hold his hand. It wasn’t some kind of permission-based ordeal.

He offered me his hand.

When he stopped by the hotel room to pick me up, I opened the door, he complimented me, leaned in for a sweet kiss, then offered up his hand.

I latched on, keeping distance between our shoulders. As we walked, though, he inched his body closer, ensuring we brushed against each other, especially as we stepped out into the crowded streets. When the sidewalks were too busy, he’d let go, only to protectively guide me through the crowds with a hand on the small of my back. The moment his hand could safely be back in mine, he’d swipe it up my spine, over my shoulder blade, down my bicep, forearm, to my fingers.

It was all so…

I was feeling lucid, for lack of a better word to articulate my feelings. I was lucid. This was a dream. Paris cast some sort of love sick spell on every single person who walked through its sparkling streets.

But, I’d latch onto any ounce of love I could get from him.

We hit the cafe first, as he promised we should. He paid, though I literally tried to shove him away from the card machine. There weren’t any tables available, of course, but there was a gorgeous park nearby, so we walked over, sat by the river Seine, and ate our breakfast.

I hadn’t seen him in such visible, bright lighting in so long. I’d nearly forgotten the way his eyes turned velvety in the sunlight. The way they glinted, the way that gold shone through the undertones. He even kept his hood down, so I was able to fully appreciate the way his brown hair had a faint reddish tint to it, the pale sparkle to his sharp jaw.

I caught myself staring at him far too often as he talked about the most casual of things. How he took Spanish in grade school, how his mom made fun of him when they had a banquet for their class because he couldn’t pronounce some of the words correctly. How he joined the school band when he was 10 and knew that all those piano lessons his grandma had forced him into would surely pay off.

Our conversations didn’t cease then, and they only became more intimate as the day rushed past. We visited museums, bookstores that were tucked away in intimate side streets. We nearly got robbed when walking past the Eiffel Tower, and I was nearly tricked into giving a stranger $500 when Oliver excused himself to find a restroom in that same area. But, his height alone cast this protective shade over me. All he ever had to do was step in front of me, shadow over whoever approached us with a pointed gaze. They’d scurry off and he’d grin down at me.

I didn’t pay for a single thing. The postcards and keychains I picked out- Oliver would shuffle me aside at the register, overpowering my average stature with his dominant one. The food we ate- he wouldn’t even let me reach for my wallet by filling my hands with his things, too. Even a dress that I picked out when we visited one of the boutiques. It was expensive, and I wasn’t even going to waste a penny on it- but he insisted. Insisted…more, like, when we were a block away, he told me to stay where I was, turned back, bought it, and swept my hand up in his in passing without another word.

Things only got better as the day passed.

He kissed me on every street, sweet, gentle, long kisses that I felt in my toes. He’d stand behind me in lines, arms wrapped around my torso, fingers splayed across my stomach. When we’d sit somewhere, he’d be practically on top of me, hand on my thigh, pulling my leg up onto his. If he had it his way, I’d probably be in his lap.

And the things he was saying to me- beyond the intimate details of his life that he was sharing…Oliver would whisper in my ear how beautiful I was, how much he loved the time we were spending together. After our light lunch, he started calling me, “My love.”

It happened so casually that I thought I’d misheard him.

He held the door of the restaurant open for me and I thanked him as I passed. I reached my hand out for his and he easily took it in his.

“Anything for my love.”

We were back in the crowds, back in the thick of Paris, with the tourists and the shouting and the traffic and noise. His words were a muffle of murmured lips to my eyes.

But I knew I’d seen the way that the ‘v’ punctured his bottom lip, white teeth sinking into pink skin.

“What did you say?” I pushed up onto my tiptoes to hear him better, dragging my eyes up his face.

Oliver had been looking around, trying to decide which direction we’d head in next. When I spoke, he started to turn his attention back to me, brows unfurrowing. “Um…huh? What?”

“What did you say?” I wiggled my fingers slightly, attempting to be playful, though I was melting on the inside.

Oliver noticed the grin rising to my lips and leaned into my affections. He wrapped his arms around my side, squeezing me tight to his chest, and rocking us about. His cheek squished against my head, muffling his words, though I heard him more clearly this time. “I said anything for my love! For my sweet, beautiful, flowering Daisy!”

My.

His.

I was his.

I was his love. He had laid ownership to me. He had spoken the words I’d begged so long to hear. He’d claimed me. Laid it all out on the table and waited for me to pick it up.

I was clutching on to it.

-

The day ended too quickly. A candlelit dinner, a singular rose prickling my fingers with it’s thorns. We watched the lights on the Eiffel Tower sparkle for far too long, entranced with each other, with the sights.

I counted down each and every second, checking the lock screen on my phone each chance I had. When the minutes added up, rolling over into each new hour, my heart would drop further into my stomach. I knew that once the sun set, once we snuck back into the hotel, this would all be over. All of the longing stares would get locked away behind his hotel room. All of his pet names and secrets he shared would end.

We’d go back to the start.

I tried to memorize every inch of every moment, each touch, gaze, kiss, even the chaste ones, when his lips grew chapped in the afternoon and I had to shove a tube of lipstick into his hands. His scent lingered on the tips of my fingers, the smell of his shampoo, and I kept my hands balled towards the end, refusing to touch almost anything. I had to keep his skin on my skin, even if all that was left there were ghosts of memories and dead cells.

It was all made worse when, in those final moments outside of the Eiffel Tower, some street photographer managed to scam us into a mini-photoshoot. Oliver began to argue with the guy, not wanting to spend nearly one hundred US dollars. Then, the photographer shoved his camera just beneath Oliver’s nose and I watched his brown, doe-y eyes light up.

He paid for exactly three photos. The man printed them quickly from his streetside contraption. Oliver wrapped an arm around me, murmured some sort of, “Let’s go.” All the while, he clutched those pictures delicately, yet to show me,

Soon, though, we were just a few feet from the front of the hotel. He slowed us, there on the sidewalk. A cool breeze shivered across my skin. He held my hand a little tighter, head dipped low as he lifted those photos from his side. I looked up at him, brows a little furrowed. I watched the corners of his lips quirk up, like he was keeping some sweet little intimate secret with just himself and the wind.

Then, Oliver held out the pictures. They were spread out, like cards, like he wanted me to pick one and see if he guessed the number correctly. I’d lie and say yes. Anything for him.

I took them. My breath caught in my throat. It was a series of moments, like a film reel, all captured within seconds, now still in this paper frame. It pictured Oliver and I from behind, watching the Eiffel Tower, his arm wrapped around my waist, my head leant on his shoulder. The next second, we turned our heads towards each other, smiling cheekily. If I squinted, I could see the looks in our eyes- smitten. Delusional. Caught-up. The shine of the tower shown across our faces like spotlights, exposing us for what we were:

In love.

The final photo was us kissing, all wrapped up like a pair of strings, tangled and entwined. My fingers became sweaty and I had to clutch the photos a little tighter. I felt sick- yet elated. Like I was being spun around a million times.

“I want that one,” Oliver spoke so quietly that I nearly didn’t hear him. Then, I felt his hand close overtop of mine, fingers gliding down the photo to gently pull it from my clutches.

I held onto the other two like an oath, trying hard not to gape up at him. He grinned, first at the photo, then to me. I needed to kiss him then and there, looking at him looking at our love. I needed to consume him, take him home with him, keep him in a shirt pocket, next to my heart, for the rest of time, long after my bones have rotted and I’m a pile of dust in a hole somewhere.

He wanted it, too- I knew it.

We leaned towards each other, lips pulled together like magnets, when our names were called from somewhere down the street.

Oliver and I snapped apart, putting nearly a small field between the tips of our toes. I hastily shoved the pictures into the bottom of my purse. Oliver tucked his photo away somewhere I didn’t see and probably wouldn’t ever.

Ronnie led the group, bounding towards us with the fervor of only someone who was somewhat tipsy. Sam tried to keep up behind her with this grin on his face that I recognized all too well. He tried to slow her down, calm her, as she nearly skipped towards Oliver and I, pushing through crowds, traffic.

Adam, Cy, and Max were at the tail of the group, following slowly, talking amongst themselves. And, Ronnie reached us a moment later.

She looped her arm through mine, leading me away from Oliver, towards the hotel, with some conversation about the bar they’d just visited. I was listening to her, but I managed to overhear Sam greet Oliver, a pat to his shoulder, a brotherly grin overwhelming Sam’s formerly lovesick one.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Ollie.”

The nickname was so boyish it made my stomach flip. Sometimes I forgot he was a human being, too caught up in the emotionality of everything to ground myself in his bones and brain.

“Course, dude. She was off with Sasha most of the day. Just caught each other on my way back from the venue,” he lied so naturally. Created a false narrative within a singular breath. I tucked it into my back pocket in case someone asked about it.

I guess we needed to have our story straight, just in case someone dared to think we were anything more than acquaintances.

-

“What did you get up to yesterday?” Sasha pushed the rest of the eggs on her plate around, her stomach more than likely being full considering we just feasted on the hotel breakfast while gossiping for an hour straight. Food become like air when conversing with friends, especially girlfriends.

The question made my movements slow, for just a moment, as I reached for my glass of tea. My eyes flicked to Sasha’s, who wore an engaged smile. “Uh…just kinda walked around. Perused. Ya know- touristy shit.”

“Not too much touristy shit, I hope. That’s what today’s for!” Sasha did a little dance in her seat. She had an entire itinerary printed out in her front pocket. She was going to be taking me to all of the best spots in Paris- all of the spots I’d already been to with Oliver.

She continued, another pre-planned outing for us on her tongue, “Oh, and, tonight we’re gonna go see Sleep Token. Adam invited us. Said you still haven’t even been to a single show? Which is unbelievable considering you fucking love concerts!”

Fuck.

This was the last thing I needed.

I already sported a lovesick expression each time Oliver so much as breathed the same air as me. Pair that with him shirtless, on stage with his famous band, singing, and wearing a mask?

Jesus Christ. Why did I put myself in these situations?

I wanted to say, “Yeah, there’s a reason I haven’t gone.”

Alas, I was on a stubborn mission to try to convince Sasha that a.) I didn’t really care for Oliver that much, and b.) I was cool as a cucumber.

So, I hid my feeling of being set-back and fibbed, “Shit, yeah. I keep forgetting those guys are actually in a band. I’ve been meaning to get to a show. Let’s do it!”

And so we went.

-

I wondered if I should tell Oliver that I was coming to the show. I didn’t wanna throw him off or anything, though I knew he took on a whole new persona when he wore that mask. I was mostly worried he’d be angry with me, if he saw my face in the crowd and hadn’t gotten any time to warn his senses. It wasn’t that I expected him to throw up or anything. I just knew that unexpected things always threw me for a loop.

Then again, I didn’t really owe him any sort of warning. I’d been invited to every single concert, every single day they were scheduled. Hell, my brother and Max had been basically begging me to come to a show this entire tour. So, Oliver already had a warning. I could show up wherever, whenever I’d like.

I don’t know why I felt like such a bad ass, no informing him of my presence later that evening. But I think it was combined with the sort of learned independence that I was gaining from Sasha. Throughout this week, this day especially, she’d been slipping in little comments about me and Oliver’s situation, with enough force that I was starting to believe them.

If we really were no strings attached, then how come I was holding so tightly to these cords?

Tonight, I was who I really was, who I deserved to allow myself to be: a regular, fun girl, free as the wind, attending concerts when I wanted to, sleeping with who I craved, wearing what I truly felt like.

That had been the whole point of this trip. I’d let myself get confused by Oliver’s affections. Let myself get distracted, pulled off track. There had been times, especially at the beginning of the summer, when I’d been true to myself; when I went out, and wore short skirts, when I sat on the roof and told Oliver, truthfully, that I wanted to live.

And, then, I’d let him consume every inch of me and become the center of my focus when he should’ve just been something fun to do.

Sasha was really influencing me, and I was grateful.

Now it was just a test of how long I could stick to my guns.

-

“God, I hate platforms,” Sasha groaned, leaning her elbows atop the barricade that separated us from the stage.

I was lodged between her back, the person next to me’s shoulder, and someone’s chest. Contrary to her own statement, I was actually grateful for the black platforms lifting my height up a little bit. Without these- granted- uncomfortable shoes, I would not be able to see past Sasha’s wild curls and the tall head of the man standing beside us.

I kept a hand on Sasha’s elbow as more and more attendees filed in, worried I’d get swept up in the tide that was the crowd of so-called worshippers and wash up somewhere off-shore.

I replied, the volume of my voice a little higher than normal, “My feet are burning, but at least I can see!”

She threw a short laugh over her shoulder, “Fair!”

It wasn’t until the opening act was about to come in that the crowd sort of settled- if settling was what you could call this. I’d been to all kinds of concerts, thanks to my music-devoted family and my connections-based older brother. But, none were ever as intense than the metal concerts I attended. And, this was no different than those.

I wasn’t annoyed, just stressed, since people kept pushing into me, bumping me like the infamous carnival ride cars against others. The man beside Sasha, sort of in front of me, was getting an ear full of apologies each time I hit his bicep with my shoulder. He would- half-annoyedly- toss a look over his back, but offered up a somewhat understandable smile.

After the third or fourth time, he turned around all the way, seemingly ready to give me an earful, “Okay, listen-“ but paused when we made eye contact.

He stared at me for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, examining my eyes, my face, dragging his gaze down my body for a moment. “Uh, sorry,” he shook his head to clear his breath of whatever he was about to say. He started over, “Listen, we're gonna bump into each other. And I’d take you bumping into me over any one of these other people.”

He peeled one more look over my body. I squinted my eyes, over analyzing the situation in my head. He was a creep- I could already tell. But…a cute creep. A cute creep who obviously thought I was attractive. I could…entertain this.

I giggled at his lame joke, setting a hand against his bicep and leaning my body towards him. “Thank God! I felt so bad just flailing myself into you every two seconds. Good to know you’re as okay with it as I am.”

I saw a flicker of approval flash in his eyes. He straightened his posture a bit. The man looked around his body, to what I assumed were his group of friends to his right, back to me.

“Here,” he moved to the right a bit, creating a gap between himself and Sasha. She glanced over to witness the rest of what was to occur.

The man held out his arm as if to herd me in, gesturing with a nod of his chin for me to step forward, to fill the space he’d made. “Let’s get you a better view.”

It really was a nice thing to do, and I was so used to being treated pretty awfully by men. So, the situation made me gush.

I moved up beside him, our shoulders pressed together. We fell into a conversation so naturally, up until the opener finally came on stage. He made points of conversation throughout their performance, drawing laughter from my stomach and goofy grins to my face. We danced during one of the songs, all gangly limbs and off-beat hips.

When the opener finished, he offered to go get us drinks. I took him up on the offer, if only he promised to leave my can of Twisted Tea unopened until he got here. He made some joke about drugging me, we shared another laugh, and he was off with his friends.

Sasha finally had the opportunity to gush with me. “Oh, my God, he’s so cute!”

I nodded excitedly, feeling the rush of the moment finally settle on my chest. I was giddy, yet still nervous, especially considering Oliver and the band would be out soon.

Oh.

Oliver.

I had nearly forgotten about him.

Or…had I?

No. He had been at the forefront of my memory. Every move this man made reminded me of him. His lanky height- though nowhere near as tall- his crinkled smile, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

Matter of fact, he looked almost exactly like Oliver.

So, I had a type.

Sue me.

Or…

Or I was stupid.

It didn’t matter.

I was going to have fun. Maybe I’d fuck this guy. Maybe we’d get married. Or maybe we'd never speak again. Who knew, who cared?

“Invite him out tonight!” Sasha continued.

I furrowed my brows as I drew myself from my thoughts, “Out where?”

Sasha oh’ed, as though she’d forgotten something, “I didn't tell you. Adam said everyone’s going out after the concert.”

I deflated a little as I worried that Oliver had found out I was here. I’d wanted it to be a surprise, wanted to stall him. If Adam knew I was here, Max knew. And if Max knew, he was excited. Oliver had to be aware.

But, I guess I still had a trick up my sleeve…this new guy, whose name I apparently didn’t even know.

“We’re gonna go to the bar.”

I smiled a little, confident in my newfound plan, “I think I’ll ask.”

Sasha nudged me all cutesy. “Good.”

And, so I did. He joked about how we didn’t know each other’s names and I flirted back that that was arbitrary. But, he told me his was Evan. I told him mine. He said a flowery name was fit for someone like me, sweet and suckle.

It sounded better when Oliver said it.

Oliver’s hands felt better on my waist, but Evan had wrapped one around my back, bracing us against the barricade.

Oliver smelled better. Evan wore something cheap, something overdone and…lingering. Oliver’s scent was something sacred, to me, to the world. It kissed my skin long after I’d been with him.

I tried to push all these terrible things away. How awful of me to be entertaining someone else, when I was so clearly infatuated with Oliver? I either needed to cut ties with Oliver or learn to be able to put him in a box.

I wanted neither option. I wanted him to be all over me, staining me.

I didn’t have to want much, though, because he already was.

Evan was getting much more comfortable with me while we waited for the band, leaning down to whisper flirtations in my ear, ghosting his fingers across the bare strip of skin poking out beneath my corset top. He brought us both two shots- each- and an unopened can of alcohol, as he promised. It didn’t really matter now, considering I’d taken the shots and was letting him basically tongue my neck.

Then, the overhead lights dimmed. A hue of blue hushed the crowd. Murmurs resounded in place of what had been a loud hum of conversation.

Cheers bellowed, though, when a masked figure took a seat at the drum kit. Then, the lights faded out again. Because we were so close, I could see Max and Adam, finding their places on stage. They were masked, too, Max’s hands painted red, their bodies cloaked in darkness. Even just thirty seconds into their performance, long before any music had even begun, I cursed myself for having not come any sooner.

The lights came up again and Oliver was standing there, behind the center-stage microphone, his Vessel persona painting his body. Had I not known he was in this band, I really wouldn’t recognize him. I examined for any signs of my Oliver, only really identifying his lean torso in this dim lighting.

Then, he began singing, and any man I had once known was now a vessel for siren-like music. And I was a ship out at sea. A lamb for slaughter.

I entranced for most of the first song. Evan rocked out beside me, bouncing on his heels, singing the words. I, of course, didn’t know the lyrics. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t able to draw up a single thought, speak a single utterance. I was infatuated, completely gone. A zombie amongst this crowd of busy bodies.

The only thing that snapped me out of my frozen state was Oliver himself. The second song had begun and I think he’d finally noticed me. I didn’t know how he’d missed me- I was center stage, thanks to my brother and the other crew members.

But, Oliver was so focused on his craftsmanship that I went unnoticed. And I didn’t even blame him. This really was like worship. Only, he was my altar. I was his sacrifice.

Blood on both our hands.

When he noticed me, I felt like a giddy teenage girl at a concert. He was singing, dancing around the stage with his lanky legs, when he stopped before Sasha and I. I couldn’t see any flashes of recognition on his face because it was covered up. But I watched the slits of his mask tilt like eyelids, watched him pause, watched his lips rub together like they always did when he was nervous.

Then, I watched him grin.

His teeth were bright white against his blackened skin, edges of his lips pink from the paint that was rubbing off. I could almost see the dimple in his cheeks, almost see the wrinkles by his eyelids. He dipped his chin as if to say, “I see you, darling.”

His smile was nothing compared to mine. I lit up entirely, shoulders straightening, posture lifting. Evan’s hand slipped from around me during my adjustments and he shuffled to move it back.

This caught Oliver’s attention. He glanced to my right, noticed the stranger with his fingers on my skin. The bottom half of his face hardened. He stepped back a bit, as if offended.

In response, like it was second nature, I wriggled out of Evan’s hold. He glanced over at me, concern lacing his features, but then the music drew his attention back in. I shot Oliver an apologetic smile.

He tilted his head to the side, boring the gaze of his mask into my own with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t read his face, couldn’t see his soul through those dark brown eyes, but I could feel the jealousy, could smell it, oozing off of his skin.

He was mad. Not at me- no. He could never be mad at me. He was mad- pissed off at Evan. For touching me. For even breathing in my direction.

And I fucking loved it.

Oliver shook his head, ever so slightly, as if to warn me for what was to come. For I had sinned against him. And the fruit outside of the garden would never taste as good as it did in Eden.

–

The show couldn’t end soon enough.

I’d completely forgotten about Evan, now only indulging in conversation with him when he’d repeat himself, lean closely down into my ear, and badger me until I responded to him. I was too focused on Oliver, on the excitement of what was to come.

So, as soon as the lights went down, I latched onto Sasha’s wrist, “Let’s head backstage.”

We moved to the left, slipping behind the retreating crowd, which was trickling out of the venue at a steady pace. It didn’t take much momentum for us to get out of the pit, to the side of the barricade where a security guard was stationed.

We flashed our badges and he stepped aside to let us through. Then, he motioned for us to walk back down from where we came, between the barricade and the stage, until we reached the other side of the venue.

We did so, beginning our usual debrief. Sasha went first, gushing about the rhythm section, “Cy is just, like…so fucking talented. And, Oh, God- I don’t know what it is. I’ve never really been into it. But, Daisy…”

She gave me a look, a look I’d seen a million times before. I went to respond, beginning my sentence by saying, “They’re so hot-“

But we were interrupted. Evan had called out my name. Sasha and I turned to him, not far from the backstage entrance. He was on the other side of the barricade still, of course. His friends were grouped behind him, conversing, waiting for him.

“Hey,” he let out a breath, as if he had run to get here, when we were literally only ten feet from where we’d been all night. “Where are you running off to?”

Sasha poked my side, as if encouraging me to engage in his flirtations. I wiggled in response, tickled by her touch. I tried not to make my smile to Evan seem so painful, though it was. Couldn’t he take a hint by now?

“Just heading off.”

Evan chuckled, “Well, yeah. But, where to? You partying with the band or what?”

“Oh, um,” I looked to Sasha, hoping she could read the pleading in my eyes. “My brother’s on the crew. So.”

“Sick,” Evan replied. “Listen, we’re going to the bar. You guys should join us. You could bring your brother, the band, though I’m not sure they’d want to party with us. But, yeah, anyways. You should come. I’d love to buy you another drink.”

God, finally, he was finally starting to lose hope that anything would come between us, evident based on the way he was stuttering a little bit. I didn’t mean to be rude or prudish, but…as a person, I was allowed to flirt with someone and then not want to engage in anything more with them. Sure, it was a little shitty to lead him on like that, but that didn’t matter. I was allowed to change my mind.

“Oh, uh…” I, myself, couldn’t seem to get the words out properly. But, I needed to, if not to save face, but also to respect him and his side. “That’s okay. Look, I had fun. But, I’m not really looking for anything right now. I appreciate you, though. And I hope you guys have fun tonight. Yeah?”

Evan seemed shocked by my confession, but understanding enough to nod, though it was slow. He then stepped back, warily moving away from us. “Hey, that’s okay. Uh, listen, if you change your mind…” he was hesitant, self-conscious, but handed me a piece of paper, “here’s my number. We could have some fun together. Call if you change your mind.”

I offered him my most sincere apology, appreciative of how things worked out. Sometimes, men would get overly offended, their egos wounded, and insult you for flirting and not following through with it. He was doing the bare minimum, sure, but it was kind.

I turned back towards where we had been heading, already bracing myself for the mouthful that Sasha would surely give me. She touched my arm to gain a glance from my eyes.

She frowned, “I’m sure one day I’ll understand. But, right now…I just don’t get why you’re putting yourself through this. I won’t badger anymore, I promise. I just…I think you’re worth more than this. I wish you believed in that like I do.”

She left me standing there, her words milking into my bones like acid, only making me feel worse than I did. I wanted to bite back, but feeding the fight would only cause an issue between her and I. I wasn’t about to lose her because of some stupid boy.

I just wish she’d stop saying it all like I was dumb, like I didn’t understand the complexity of the situation. I did- it was complex. I was a complex. I knew it better than anyone.

I shook off the frustration she left me to sit in and followed after her. I caught up and latched onto her arm, springing into some conversation about the show. I was a little upset with her and her incessant need to try to change my mind, but I really wasn’t gonna let it affect our evening.

We ran into my brother and Ronnie on our way back. Ronnie was overjoyed to see the both of us, leaping from her spot to offer hugs. “Oh, girls! I’m so glad you made it out tonight! Daz…I see you’ve finally graced us with your presence?”

I giggled into her shoulder. She clutched me against her side and squeezed me, teasing my absence from the tour thus far. I patted her hip sweetly, “I knooooow. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Sam ruffled my hair, “Bet you regret now, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” I shoved his hand away from me. Ronnie peeled herself off of me. I nodded enthusiastically, “That was fucking insane. I, like…I don’t even know. That was probably the best fucking concert I’ve ever been to.”

“Now that is the highest compliment we have ever received!” Max’s voice boomed from somewhere behind me. I didn’t have time to turn around because he wrapped his sweaty body around me and lifted me into the air.

I cackled horrendously as he shook me about. “Max! Put me down!”

Adam and Cy came from either side of us, wide grins and cheers. Adam was giddier than I’d ever seen him, “You really liked it that much?”

A hush of silence overwhelmed our group as everyone awaited my response. I’d never realized how much I meant to these guys, how much they valued my approval. “I fucking loved it!”

Everyone cheered, loudly. Max set me back on my feet and I turned to give him a proper embrace. Adam and Cyrus patiently waited their turns, squeezing me tight. They moved onto greeting Sasha. I straightened out my black leather skirt and, in the process, noticed that their red and black paints had smeared across my forearms. I easily rubbed it off with the edge of my skirt and it disappeared.

We stood there for a minute or two, discussing the show, before Max demanded we go back to the dressing room and share a round of shots. Sasha was right- everyone was going out here in an hour or two, after the boys showered, after Sam and Ronnie helped finish tearing down. The two of them joined us for a drink before returning to do so. Max, Adam, and Cyrus usually shared a dressing room with Oliver. So, I was anticipating seeing him when we finally made it to the room. Yet, he was nowhere to be found. Twenty minutes had even passed by, twenty minutes of me trying to not stare at the door. And there was no sign of him.

I finally settled onto the couch beside Max, who was rambling about the crowd. He was so happy that it made my chest flutter. I loved these guys so much. It made the situation with Oliver worse. Things would never work out between us- and I could only pray that that wouldn’t affect my relationship with the rest of the band.

Too much had passed for me to stay comfortable like this. I needed to find Oliver, if not to just tell him how fucking insane his show was, but to fulfill whatever he had promised me with that look he had had on stage.

I glanced at the door for the millionth time, knee bouncing rapidly. Adam, who was seated across from us, with Sasha and Cy on the other couch, leaned forward. He touched my knee to garner my attention away from the door. We had little privacy from the rest of the group, but they were so involved in conversation that they didn’t even notice when he said, “Ollie’s down the hall. To the left.”

I flinched at his words, a frown embedding itself into my cheeks. I shook my head side to side as I tried to deny whatever it was he was suggesting. Adam just raised his brows at me, pursed his lips. “Daz, you’re good. Just go.”

I finally breathed again, having stopped as soon as Oliver’s name left his lips. Then, I gave him this half-hearted, tired smile. And I excused myself from the group.

I couldn’t even overthink whatever had just happened between Adam and I as I flew down the hallway. I stopped before the door on my left, bracing a hand on the handle. I wondered if I should knock, though I didn’t think I really needed to. From the sound of Adam’s tone, Oliver was…waiting for me.

I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Before I knew it, I was opening the door.

Oliver was standing at the dressing table, hands on either side of the Vessel mask as if he were about to take it off. However, he heard me enter the room and quickly turned to face me. His hands fell to his sides, pink skin poking out of the smeared, fading paint.

I nearly stepped out of the room, somewhat frightened by how predatory he seemed. His shoulders were squared, his chest pushed out. He was frowning, like he was disappointed in me or something. One of his hands traced the countertop as he turned his body to face me. I tried not to squirm at the look of his fingers, delicate, yet so…fit to kill.

“Hi,” I breathed out. The door fell shut behind me and the loud click made me flinch. The room was silent otherwise. Oliver wasn’t saying anything, there wasn’t any low humming of any machinery. I couldn’t hear a single person in the hallway. It was like we had been transported to a different place.

“Um,” I didn’t really even know what to say. Should I apologize for looking at another man? Should I compliment him for the show? Yeah, that’s what I would try.

“I loved-”

“Who was that?” His voice was deeper, hoarse from the performance. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I thought for a moment, carefully planning out my next turn of phrase, “...I don’t even know. Just some guy. I-”

“So, you think it’s okay to flirt with other men right in front of me?” He took a step forward. The movement made me push myself back, against the door. I wasn’t afraid, not in a bad way. I just felt like…prey. Like I was being stalked, methodically being coerced towards a trap, only to be skinned and eaten alive.

“No-no. I don’t think-”

“So you agree?” He took another step. The distance between us was slowly but surely being squashed.

I furrowed my brows, swallowing thickly, “Agree…agree to what? Oliver, I’m so confused-” I let out a breathy laugh.

He silenced me again, another step. “You agree that you behaved poorly. You were a bad girl, darling. I think it’s quite clear. Bad girls need to be punished.”

I didn’t say anything- wasn’t able to say anything else as he moved closer. After a moment, Oliver’s chest was against mine, his breath hot as it blew down over my face. I tried to breath properly, but failed, especially as he trailed his fingers up over my thighs, across my hips, to my waist. One hand found my throat, the other came to rest on my hips.

And, I realized…this wasn’t Oliver, not anymore. This was Vessel.

And, Vessel pressed me harder against the door as our lips met, tongues clashing against teeth, hungrily. We moved together so easily, entranced by the other’s taste. I gripped at his sides, pulling me into him, arching my back to press my chest against his. Vessel’s hold tightened, too, and he ground my hips against his.

I felt him get hard, quickly, the loose material of his pants allowing his erection to fully grind against my thigh. He was whiney, all gasping breaths, low moans, as I drug my fingers down his chest, dipped them through his waistband. He made such big claims about how I apparently needed to be punished, but turned into mush when I got a hold of him.

I nearly got to wrap a hand around him, but Vessel grabbed my fingers harshly in his, slamming my hand against the door, above my head. My eyes shot back open in surprise, though I didn’t even remember closing them. “S’all about you right now, darling,” he demanded, words against my lips. “Have to remind you why I’m better than him. That I know your body better than he ever could.” Vessel shoved his head into the crevice of my neck, nipping and tonguing at my flesh. My eyes dropped shut again, head hitting the door in a way that would probably hurt tomorrow. I had a feeling all of me would hurt tomorrow. But, I didn’t care. This was what I had been craving since the beginning of the concert.

Vessel drug his fingers up my arms, leaving goosebumps in his path, trails of black paint like a roadmap amongst my freckles. He slid the straps of my shirt down past my shoulders. Then, he kissed his way down to the arch of my breasts. He rolled the material between his teeth and sunk to the floor as he drugged it down my body. His hands quickly found my skirt, too, unzipping it and tugging it off. Now, Vessel was on his knees below me.

Vessel looped an arm around either of my thighs, nearly pulling my entire weight onto his shoulders. I clutched onto the top of his head, feeling some of his hair slip out from the cap he wore beneath his mask. It was soft, like I remembered it being, though just a bit sweaty. He glanced up at my bare breasts, smirking devilishly now. I tugged on his hair, like I know he always liked, but he refused to give in.

He admired my desperate face as he said, “Besides, darling, I watched you worship me all night. It’s my turn to pray at your altar.”

My head hit the door again as Vessel sunk his tongue into me. He had managed to tear my underwear down with his teeth and they were now somewhere laying across the room. I ground my hips into his face, back arching each time his nose would then rub against my sweet spot. I tried to be quiet at first, though small gasps and moans slipped from my bitten lips.

But, then, Vessel stopped, eliciting a whine from me. He chuckled, lips slick from me. He darted his tongue out, smirking as he cleaned his mouth. He tilted his head in disappointment, “You’re usually so loud for me, darling. Don’t get shy now, just because you’re feeling guilty. I want him to hear how good I make you feel. I want to hear how desperate I am making you feel. Me. Not him. Me."

I nodded, dazed, brows furrowed, fingers digging at his hair. The cap covering his hair had fallen off his head at this point, but the mask managed to stay on. I was grateful it did. He was like a different person, which only blazed these primal desires we shared. Vessel watched my face as he pressed his tongue back up into me, running the tip of it down my entire core. I moaned, loudly, back arched into the cold air, nipples hard from the temperature and arousal. He chuckled deeply into me, making my thighs shake around his head. Vessel pried me back open with his fingers, nearly bruising my skin. He continued on and on and on until I was close. I vocalized my point of no return, and he hurriedly spoke, “Don’t. Be a good girl and wait. For me, okay? Don’t want to make things worse for yourself, darling.

I nodded wildly, clenching my stomach to deny myself of the orgasm. Vessel gently set my feet back on the ground. He guided me by the hips towards the counter. Easily, he picked me up and set me on it. It was freezing cold against my bare skin, but his warm hands, tongue, were on me soon enough. I took the opportunity to unlatch his belt, fingers moving hurriedly. Vessel moved to help me, tugging the pants down his thighs.

Vessel then pushed me back from him, taking control again. He pushed my legs open further with his bare knee. Then, he grabbed me by the hips and tugged me down till my back was flat against the counter. His hand splayed across my thigh as he pushed himself inside of me.

He was sloppy, quick in desperation as he fucked me. But, every thrust he pushed into me was strong, deep. Vessel wrapped my legs around his waist, securing me by the hip. His other hand drug itself up my chest until his fingers were wrapped around my throat. Black paint smeared most of my skin. There was even a ring around his mouth where the paint had transferred from his skin to my own. I don’t know how we would manage to keep this rendezvous a secret from everyone else with the state we were both in. But, right now, I couldn’t care. We always figured it out.

Vessel leaned himself overtop of me, his forehead against my chest. Though he was dominating me, he was so caught up in the pleasure that he was starting to quickly come undone. I touched his back, nails digging into his skin. He tossed his head back at the sensation, neck exposed to me. I eyed the veins protruding from his skin. He smirked at me when he noticed I was staring at his neck. He growled, “Take a bite. Leave your mark. I am yours, darling. And you are mine.”

I held one hand, tightly, to his shoulder, keeping him steady as he fucked me. I couldn’t overthink what he had just said to me, though I nearly lost concentration as the thoughts swirled in my brain. But, I gripped the back of his head with the other, steadying my reality. I was slow at first, nipping at his neck gently. Vessel’s thrusts were becoming sloppy with each bite I took. I was close, too. So, I opened my jaw further, taking a pinch of his skin between my upper and lower canines. I bit down, hard.

“Fuck!”

He quickly pulled out and came on my stomach, as he normally did. As he came undone, my body shook from my own climaxed desire. Vessel pressed his forehead against mine as we rode out our high. We came down from the top and he gave me a sloppy kiss. It was stupid, but the small show of affection meant more to me than anything he’d ever done.

There was a bitter cold left on my skin as he stepped back. I hugged myself, finally taking in the black paint covering my skin. “Oh, god,” I laughed.

Vessel pulled his pants up. He looked at my body, grinning, “Fuck. That’s so hot. Darling, if we had more time…”

“I know,” I smiled up at him. “Hey, we have the rest of the summer.”

“God, don’t tempt me. Here, Daz, there’s a bathroom over here,” this was Oliver now. He finished buckling his belt before peeling off his mask. Sweat dripped down either side of his face and he wore this cheesy grin. Oliver offered me his hand.

I followed him into the side room. He found a washcloth on the side of the sink, clean and unused, and wet it with warm water. Oliver gently pried my hands from covering my body and busied himself with wiping down my skin. He focused on what would be visible: My arms, neck, hands, face. I watched him while he worked. It was fucking hot when he was dominating, disgustingly dirty. But, this, this caring demeanor? This was the Oliver I loved.

Oh, God. I loved Oliver. I was starting to feel a little sick.

When he was finished, he rounded up my dress, shoes, and underwear. Oliver watched sweetly, even helping when I stumbled over my own feet. We giggled into each other’s mouths practically as his hands found my hips and he steadied me. I wondered if he’d bring up Evan again, or if he even cared that much. Maybe it was just a prompt for sex, a situation that allowed him to dominate me. Maybe he hadn’t even meant it when he said he was mine. But I knew I’d always be his.

As we giggled into each other, I was finally able to take in Oliver’s face and had to cover my mouth to stifle the cackle that tickled my throat. He frowned, slightly, confused by my laughter. “What? What is it?”

I touched his shoulders, forcing him to face the mirror. His head pulled back in shock at his appearance.

I kept laughing and Oliver peered down at me with a tilted head. “Keep laughing, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Ollie” I shrugged, “it’s just so fucking funny.”

“What’s funny?”

I yelped, trying to duck out of the way as he jolted towards me. He caught me by the waist, rattling me around in his hold. I giggled, loudly against his chest, trying to twist out of his hold. His mouth was near my ear as he teased me, “Not so funny now, huh?” I rested my forehead to his shoulder in my fit of laughter. Oliver calmed his movements, just holding me against him now. “It just goes to show the mess you make out of me,” he murmured against my ear, lips pressed to the shell of it.

I looked up at him and pointed a warning finger, “Don’t do that.”

“I know,” he huffed as he tossed his head back in frustration. “We should be getting back. Don’t want anyone to suspect anything still. We nearly got caught the other day.”

“Sadly,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to ignore what else he had said. About getting caught. He acted so offended by the thought, as if I were a stain to his reputation, a whore to his royal highness.

Oliver, however, seemed to be able to read the deflated energy in my tone. He leaned around to meet my eyes, touching my chin with his finger, “Darling, I think we should talk.”

Oh, here we go. Here was the dreaded conversation. He was probably going to end things. I was being…too much. I was taking this relationship too seriously, pinning all my hopes and dreams on a man who just wasn’t able to love somebody. He was too full of darkness, too hurt to find the capacity to love me like I deserved. He was ‘going through things.’ He was ‘broken.’ He needed ‘space.’ It wasn’t me- it was him. It was always him. Him. Him. Him. Oliver.

I knew this would happen eventually. I braced myself for impact as I watched him take a breath. I couldn’t find the space in my lungs for any air and it burned my veins. My stomach churned. My brain hurt, so, so badly. I was…tired. I just wanted him to say it already, to kill me, to twist the knife. Get it over with. I was tired of the games, tired of the back and forth. If it was going to end- could it just be now? Before he kissed me again and I fell even more in love with him?

Oliver loaded the gun, aimed, and fired, “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping with other people. I know that’s selfish and loaded and…I don’t know. I meant it when I said you were mine. And I…I am yours, Daisy. I need you, only you…and I need you to feel the same. But, I understand if you cannot because of the way our relationship still has to stand. Nothing really has changed on that end. And it’s so shitty of me. I want to…I want it to be different. But it can’t. I don’t know, I just…I need you to say something before I lose my mind…”

I twisted in his arms, finally finding the ability to breathe. My jaw was slack, my brows furrowed together as I took in everything he had just said. I didn’t know, exactly, what to say, so I tried to just focus on my breathing. This wasn’t some big love confession, no, not the one in the pouring rain, or beneath the sheets of his hotel bed that I had been wishing for. But, it was something. In fact, this was horrible. This was…selfish. Like he had said. Selfish and loaded and bullshit. But…it was something. It was…him. Him and I. It was him admitting his feelings, in his own twisted way. He was mine. He had said it, clear as day, had demanded it of me, too, in a desperate, breathless confession. He was mine- I was his. We belonged to each other, even if that didn’t change any of the strings between us. It was something for me to hold onto.

It was something for me to worship, to pray to, to hope on. A star in my Northern sky, a hand around my throat and heart…Oliver’s. Oliver. My Oliver.

That was when I truly knew how devastating things would be when they ended. I could see the fire from there, could feel it licking at my skin. Yet, all I did was smile through the burning, lean up, and kiss the flame.

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token smut #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanfic #sleep token iii

[sixeyescurseuser]

(Headcanon)

Thinking about Shoko who gets hella confused when she interacts with men who aren’t Gojo or Geto, aka gay icons. She just spends so much time with those fools, who are admittedly quite entertaining to watch. 

Shoko will observe hetero men and wonder: “Huh, why don’t they put their hands on their hips? Not sassy enough…”

Or, “He’s talking on the phone without bending his neck at a 90° angle?”

Or, “Man, this guy is like a rock. So expressionless.”

Shoko sees the str8 guys’ pants and thinks: “Not skinny jeans, but also not those billowy loose pantaloons…”

Plus, getting str8 men to engage in actual conversation can be a PAIN. Why don’t they reciprocate basic questions? Would it kill them to add inflection to their tone, or give more than two-sentence answers?

Meanwhile, Gojo and Geto never stop talking. They have the innate skill of arguing about the dumbest shit. They’re loud af too. Shoko frequently has to tell them to shut the fuck up.  

At first, Geto will be like, “Satoru, we need to lower our voices,” but then he gets too heated in proving his point and forgoes his manners. Gojo simply has no problem egging Geto on, nor speaking whatever comes to his mind.

***

During one of the goodwill exchange events, Gojo and Geto grew bored and began competing against each other. Even the Kyoto guys, who are rugged and masculine by traditional standards, have to veer out of the way to avoid their path of destruction. 

No one stands a chance against the gays.

(Gojo, jumping out of the way when Geto sends a tornado kick: “Woah! That made your ass look good, Suguru!”

Geto rolls his eyes and continues to try to beat this loser. 

Moments later, Yaga-sensei broadcasts to the  entire arena, yelling at his students to, “Quit fighting each other - you do enough of that already - and focus on the competition!”

Gojo tackles Geto while yelling: “Suguru started it!”

Geto yanks on Gojo’s hair. “Satoru you fucking LIAR!”)

***

Then, there’s conversations that make it clear to Shoko that despite being able to start a podcast each time they open their mouths, having interesting fashion, or flaunting undeniable charisma and fuck-you-you’re-irrelevant energy, the gays still have their shit to figure out. 

Meaning, they should really kiss. Each other. 

That will happen in due time, Shoko is sure.

For now, she’ll enjoy the entertainment the strongest pair insist on showcasing - for free - every day. 

(Gojo, rubbing his full tummy after devouring an all-you-can-eat buffet: "Guys, I’m pregnant.”

Shoko turns to Geto. “Congrats.”

“Damn,” Geto says without missing a beat. He glances at Gojo with soft eyes. “But we used a condom.”

Gojo nudges Geto with his shoulder, then gazes up at Geto over the rims of his black shades. “I poked holes in it beforehand. Didn’t think it’d actually take though…”

They continue like that for a sickeningly long time, fabricating an entire story full of scandalous decisions and questioning family-planning. 

Shoko doesn’t comment on their bright, pink cheeks by the end of it.)

*** w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ieri shoko #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #jjk headcanon #satosugu headcanon #jujutsu kaisen #canon compliant #cerdrabbles

[cosmal]

okayy since my profile’s all fucked again im gonna keep annoying in ur ask box…

rugby!james learning to make time for reader after they start datingg

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary you don’t think you have anymore time to see james. he promises to make an effort. so do you.

also this is unedited sorry

warnings/tags fem!reader, she/her pronouns rugby!james, angst, fluff at the end

word count 1.4k

“What about Thursday?” you call through the door, rinsing your hands through warm water, washing the suds from your wrists as a distraction.

“Training. You know that. Every Thursday.” He doesn’t say it cruelly, more of a soft reminder to move past it.

“No, James. You told me it was cancelled this week.” 

Through the door, James can still hear your upset building. It has his chest tightening with worry because he really didn’t want this to happen this season. Juggling his training and games, and your job and meetings has become more of a problem the further into the rugby season he gets. His team keeps winning games and your work just keeps piling up.

He waits for you to open the door but it doesn’t happen. He hears the tap squeak off and then your pacing.

“I did?” he asks because he really doesn’t remember.

“Yes,’’ your voice trails off.

He doesn’t argue. It’s likely. “Hey, open up and we can figure something out, yeah?”

There’s some rustling, lids getting clicked closed and then the metal crash of your pedal bin slamming shut before you open up. You’re all done up and pretty, eyes sparkling with a sheen of glitter and a lip gloss James loves. A black dress he also loves. To death. If you didn’t look so worried he’d make a cheesy, lovely comment.

He’d also soothe the pinched crease between your eyebrows if he knew it wouldn’t ruin the 45 minute job you’d done with your makeup. 

“What’s there to figure out?” you ask, voice a little pitched up, “You have rugby, I’ll have a meeting. It’s the same as always.”

You walk past him to your dresser, clicking on the yellow light bulbs to search for a pair of earrings. James follows.

“What do you mean the same?’’ he asks, catching a view of you in the mirror, standing behind you with his arms folded over his chest.

You lean forward to pierce a gold hoop through your ear and catch his eyes, sighing you say, “Please, James. I don’t want to argue, I have to leave in ten minutes and I don’t want to be in a bad mood for the whole night.”

“When did we start arguing?” he asks, closing the gap between the both of you. You stand up straight, turning to press your back into the lip of your dresser. The gap grows again and James hates it.

“James,” you sigh, twisting a little too roughly at the gold in your ears so the clip is at the back.

“What did you mean by the same as always?” he asks. 

If he didn’t look so sad you’d say something like you know what I mean, James. You decide against it when he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. A habit of his you hate. You’d reach forward and tug it from his mouth if you thought just his touch right now wouldn’t have you unravelling. It always does. You’ll appologise for getting angry and he’ll applogise for arguing or whatever and the subject will be forgotten until next week. 

You have the urge to forget about it. The stronger urge to actually talk to him. 

“You’ve just been so busy lately,” you tell him, “So have I. I just, what…what if nothing ever changes?”

“Hey, the season’s almost over. Then I’m all yours.” he tells you, more hopeful than you are. Than you’ve been for the past few weeks.

You sigh. Because it’s tiring and because it’s nothing new. “And then in another eight weeks you’ll have the pre-season. You spend more time on that oval than you do in your own apartment.”

James deflates, full body, letting his shoulders slump forward. The charismatic, strong front he tries to put on falters only for a moment. It’s different. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, honey.”

Your hands squeak around the wood of your dresser where you lean backwards, “That’s exactly my point, James.” you exasperate, working yourself up more than you wanted to be. You don’t want to be this way with him, it’s not how you’d of like to have handled this situation. Your guilt eats at your tongue but you don’t stop, “You can’t skip training or games, I’d never ask you of that. It’s a problem with no solution.”

James eyes flicker behind the glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. Sniffling before he says, “What are you saying?”

You become a little too defensive, “I don’t know!”

“You want to break up?” he asks, quieter than he’s ever been around you. He hates it, you hate it even more.

You shake your head, leaning up off your furniture and step closer to him, exasperated you say, “God, no, James. That’t the last thing I want.”

He nods, a little more hopeful, “Right.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Jesus Christ, no.” He doesn’t even think before he answers you. He’d never have to.

“Okay,” you say before closing the space berween you entirely. Wanting his comfort more than anything. 

He gives it to you willingly, snaking his arms around your back, his fingers warm against the bare skin under your straps, “Hey, okay,’ he says, curls touching his eyelashes, ‘’What if I promise to make more of an effort?”

“You make a lot of effort,”

He shakes his head and you brush his curls back. Something simple, but also something you both need, Simple touches. “More though.”

You tilt your head back, “More?”

“I promise to make dinners and I’ll- I’ll come visit you on your lunch breaks,”

“James…”

He grins boyishly and you’ve missed the ten minutes you had without it. His smile is a treasure. “I mean it!” he laughs, though still entirely serious, “I’ll make sure I don’t go overtime at trainings and when I do get home I promise to give you more back massages than you need.”

“James,” you repeat, smile almost as bright as his, “I can’t ask you to do all those things, you’ll get tired and I don’t want that.”

His smile tampers down, “No I won’t.”

“No?”

“No. And if I do, I don’t care. I want to make this work.”

You peck his top lip, too quick for James’ liking, “I do too.” Another kiss, “I do.” you murmur against the light stubble of his jaw.

“Good,” he says, pecking you back. Too quick for your own liking. You’re both holding back the strong urge to appologise like idiots.

“I promise to make time for you too,” you tell him seriously.

“You’ll give me massages?” he asks hopefully, squeezing you closer to prove his point. His hands are a heat you need, feeling yourself lean futher into him until he sits down on the frame of your bed.

“Sure,” you say, completely truthfully. You will. You might love it more than him.

There’s a small beat where James is staring at you too intently. You can feel your cheeks under his loving gaze. “We can get through this,”

You blink, “You think?”

His smile is once again too soft and you can feel yourself melting, “I know.”

You push his glasses back up his nose and his face screws up all dazed, “How?”

“Because, I love you and I’d do anything for you.” he murmurs, leaning up to kiss you. Warm and tender against your skin that sticks to him. He huffs into your mouth until you’re both smiling which makes kissing almost impossible. Still, you kiss like it’s your first.  

You pull away all flushed and glassy eyed, “You’re awful,” you pant.

“Awful? I’d say more like charming,” he says indiginantly. His boyish charm washing back over him like he’d never lost it. 

“Don’t say things like that when I’ve spent so much time on my makeup,” you laugh wetly, pushing your fingertips into your hot cheeks. Careful not to smudge anything.

James pouts lovingly, pulling you back into his firm chest, “Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he coos, fighting the urge to hold you so tight it messes you hair and makeup entirely. “We’re okay,” he repeats, quieter than last.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Now turn around so I can zip your dress.”

You frown over his shoulder, “It already is zipped up,”

“No, I want to unzip it. Wanna see what’s underneath before you go out.”

You pull back and lightly slap him over his chest, “James!”

How could you ever think you’d never fix anything with a boyfriend so charming. It’d be impossible.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter imagine #james potter headcanon #james potter drabbles #james potter fanfiction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Number One

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing, Only One I See, One Thing Leads To Another, One Message Waiting, One Day Closer to You, I’m the Only One, Plus One, Ticket for One, The Wrong One

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

“Ugh, so close!” You stomp your foot and drop the remote beside you, “you’re using cheat codes!”

Jensen laughs, “on MarioKart?”

“I don’t know, you’re cheating!” You accuse again.

“Or I’m just better than you. Total noob.”

“Shut up,” you hit his shoulder, “not only are you a cheater, you’re a bragger too!”

“I’m not bragging at all.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and stand up, “I need to hit the bathroom before I really break out my skills. Then you’ll see.”

“Sure,” he shakes his head, “easy excuse.”

You wave him off and cross to the door. You pause and look back at him, a dopey look on your face.

“Down to the left. Just be careful, Jeremy likes to leave the door open.”

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose, “I’ll keep a look out– or close my eyes, whatever.”

You leave him and venture down the hall. You hear the blare of speakers in the next room and the rabble of voices from the kitchen. Jensen’s dorm is much louder than your own. That’s guys for you.

You find the bathroom and take your time. You’re almost giddy. You’ve had such a good time, you barely gave a single thought to your exams or the papers waiting to be written. For a moment, you even forgot where you were.

You wash your hands and venture back down the hall. You slow dip into Jensen’s room and close the door, “I wanna be Peach this time.”

“But I’m Peach,” he looks up from his phone and puts it face down on the bed, “Bowser’s good too–”

“But I want to be Peach, she’s faster,” you argue as you sit beside him.

“Be Daisy–”

“Why can’t I be Peach?” You stick your tongue out.

“I– I’m always Peach,” he shrugs, “she’s my favourite.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Hmm, you seem like a Waluigi guy to me.”

“Waluigi? Is that your type?”

Your phone buzzes against your leg and you reach down to grab it. You flip it over and see several messages waiting. You don’t want to deal with it. You just want to be there, with Jensen. 

“Been going off a lot,” Jensen says, “you’re pretty popular.”

“Eh, it’s just Inez,” you mutter as you scroll through the notifications, “and… Steve… what–” You black the screen and put the phone far away from you, “doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it later.”

“Steve? As in your Professor? Rogers?” He asks.

You look at him and sigh, “uh, yeah, you know, I’m gonna be TA so… it’s nothing. Come on, back to… Moo Moo Meadows?”

He’s quiet as he flips to the course screen. You try not to think. That only gets you into trouble. You were having so much fun.

“Do you text all your professors?” He clears his throat, making you wince.

“It’s… no. It was a bit of a mix up, I don’t really reply. I don’t know,” you stammer, “he seems kinda… lonely.”

“Lonely? He’s a forty-year old man. You’re his student. You shouldn’t worry if he’s lonely.”

You sniff and thumb the analog stick, “is this about the other night? I’m sorry, Jake, I didn’t plan on doing that, really, I just… I don’t want to mess up my TA position. I need the money and that’s the point, he is my professor. I don’t wanna piss him off.”

“Do you realise how fucked that sounds?” He sits up, “you shouldn’t be afraid of him or him failing you because you didn’t want to sit with him.”

“No, no, he wouldn’t, he’s harmless, I just… felt bad for him. Really. I’m sorry. I really am. I was so disappointed because I was really looking forward to it. You and me.” You look down and rub your neck, “but I get it, I’d be pretty annoyed too.”

“I’m not– I’m not mad. I’m just concerned. Kinda confused, you know? He’s texting you and that’s kinda past a line.”

“I know, I’ll– I’ll talk to him about it. Thank you, really, I thought I was a bit… paranoid.”

“You’re definitely not paranoid, he seems a bit desperate and that’s coming from me.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Jensen, you’re so mean.”

“You’re laughing cause you know it’s true,” he smirks, “so, let’s go. Kick my ass.”

He clicks his controller and starts the race. You feel the weight lift from your chest as you focus. You hit the go button as hard as you can, steering with the stick, tilting the controller as you bear down. You are going to win this.

You get to the final lap, trailing Jensen in second place. You squint, narrowing in on him as you ready your last shell. You’re gonna do it! You can do it!

You don’t have to. He stops suddenly and you breeze past him to cross the checkered line. You squeal as Bowser celebrates and you throw your hands up.

“I won! I won! I–”

You turn to him, his eyes pinpointed on you, and your voice crackles in your throat. He watches you, a dimple in his cheek as puts down his controller and leans on the heel of his hand, looming closer as you gulp and drop your arms. He’s only an inch away, your heart beats behind your ears loudly.

“Do you want your prize?” He asks.

“My prize?” You murmur.

“For winning,” he says as his eyes flick down to your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He touches your chin and you gasp. He leans in, closer and closer, and you tilt your head up to meet him. Your lips touch, shyly at first, soft and uncertain. You touch his arm and push your mouth firmer to his as you hum. You feel him smile against you.

You part, just an inch. “Wow,” he sighs.

“Wow,” you squeeze his arm.

You stare at each other, locked in the heat of the moment. His hand slips around the back of your head and he pulls you to him again. You crush your lips into his, opening up as you let his tongue poke deeper. You cling to each other as you lose yourself in him.

You feel your phone slip against your leg, another buzz that has it shifting on the mattress. You fall back with Jensen and he angles himself over you as he keeps his lips on yours. Your hand travels up his arm and grasp his shoulder, squeezing the muscles there. Another vibe.

He pulls back and his blue eyes blaze as they wander over with his hand to your hip. He grabs your phone and hits the last notification.

“What are you–”

‘She’s busy.’ He says as he types with his thumb, showing the screen to you with the text buffering to send.

“Jake!” You say as you grab for the phone and he tosses it behind him.

“You are busy,” he insists as he cradles your cheek, “he’s not getting in the way this time.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #au #professor!steve #mcu #marvel #the losers #captain america #avengers