♥︎escape reality with me♥︎

🔥🔥🔥 = smut ✍✍✍ = WIP

Baldur’s Gate 3

Astarion

The Gold & The Rust 🔥🔥🔥  //  You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again…

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

You Can’t Spell “Hotchner” Without “Hot”  //  The reader has always been vocal about who she finds attractive, especially to her best friend, Penelope Garcia. But when the reader becomes uncharacteristically silent in her announcement of attractive people upon transferring to the BAU, Penelope gets suspicious, determined to find out the cause, leading to shenanigans, and a hell of a way to make an impression on your new boss.

The Devil All the Time

Arvin Russel

✝ modern day bonnie & clyde ✝ 🔥🔥🔥 //  Seems Arvin’s luck’s done run out by the time he’s halfway into Tennessee, but maybe things are looking up, when a pretty girl asks him for a ride. Then again, maybe not.

Harry Potter Series // Fantastic Beasts Series

Sirius Black

Passing Dogs  //  Request: “I was wondering if I could have a fanfiction where the reader is with Sirius Black before he went to Azkaban and reunites with him after he escapes.”

Hemlock Grove

Roman Godfrey

Little Miss College Girl 🔥🔥🔥  //  The reader has been friends with Roman since high school, but when Roman’s blood supply gets dumped, she makes a decision that will change their friendship forever.

The Hobbit // The Lord of the Rings

Thranduil

Mercy  //  Imagine being Thranduil’s pregnant wife and a soldier gets rough and grabs your arm, making you cry out in pain and Thranduil gets extremely mad.

Knives Out (2019)

Ransom Drysdale

The Ransom Note 🔥🔥🔥  //   Being Meg Thrombey’s childhood best friend meant that, whenever she would return home to her grandfather’s estate, you would frequently go to visit her. Well, this time, Meg isn’t your motivation for roaming the halls of Harlan’s Manor, but rather, the little note you received from Ransom Drysdale is.

Law & Order: SVU

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi

Noise Complaint  //  Sonny hates dry-cleaning things after not getting a good use out of them, so when his girlfriend has a thing for cop outfits, and he gets to revisit the days of being required to wear one, he decides to put the uniform to good use before he has to get it cleaned the next day.

Mike Dodds

Puppy Love  //  Request: "A fic about Mike Dodds. The reader could work at a local animal rescue center and they meet during a case. All fluff and happiness."

Marvel

Bucky Barnes // The Winter Soldier

First, I Find You  //  Imagine being Pierce’s daughter and not knowing what he’s doing, but one night you walk in to find the Winter Soldier in your kitchen.

Lamb Among Wolves 🔥🔥🔥  //  Imagine owing mobster!Bucky a lot of money after your deadbeat brother bails with it, leaving you with his debt, and you offer yourself as payment that he is more than happy to collect himself.

Part 1  🔥

Part 2  🔥

Part 3  🔥

Part 4  🔥

Part 5  ✍

Frank Castle // The Punisher [Netflix]

(Not) Another Christmas Alone  //  When a dead man shows up on your doorstep, you find yourself getting more than you ever could have wished for this Christmas, while he finds himself feeling a small bit of normalcy again.

Baron Helmut Zemo

Killer  //  While tracking the Flag Smashers across Europe alongside Sam and Bucky, you suddenly find yourself in need of a hero. The man who comes to your rescue, however, is the villain of too many people’s stories to ever be mistaken for one. The lines between what is and what should be become blurrier, making it too easy to forget that you aren’t supposed to like Baron Helmut Zemo at all.

Loki

Loved Too Late  //  Request: The first time Loki says, “I love you,” to you.

Peter Parker // Spiderman

woozy 🔥🔥🔥  //  That summer, the air conditioning in your apartment breaks. Funny, how such a simple thing could result in a domino effect, sending you tumbling into the sweltering haze that was more than just getting caught in the midst of one of the hottest heat waves New York had ever seen.

Steve Rogers // Captain America

American Honey  //  She rounded the corner, thundering into him in a mess of wild hair and a yellow sundress, hitting him harder than any swing that the god at his left could deliver and, just like that, he found he was that same scrawny teenager from Brooklyn again.

Quentin Beck // Mysterio

Man of Mystery  🔥🔥🔥  //  This was supposed to be a simple, relaxed holiday. The most to worry about was keeping the boys and the girls in their separate rooms, right? When you decide to chaperone your brother’s trip to Europe, you get more than you bargained for. Maybe Mysterio wasn’t all good manners and gentlemanliness, after all.

Rapunzel  🔥🔥🔥 // “Come on, Rapunzel, don’t you ever want to let down your hair?”

It’s no secret that Tony Stark’s daughter is the apple of his eye, doted on in every way. Showered in adoration, love, and his protection. Smothered in it. You’re sheltered and naïve, which is exactly what Quentin Beck likes about you, and you’re more than ready to figure out what life is like from out beneath your father’s thumb. This man just might be the death of you.

Part 1  🔥

Part 2  🔥

Part 3  🔥

Part 4  🔥

Part 5  🔥

Part 6  ✍

Into the Night  🔥🔥🔥 //  Dullahan!Q.B. AU //  All the village knows how unwise it is to wander into the woods on festival nights, lest you risk being taken by whatever is lurking within. But, with festivals there is mead, and the foolish whims of young people. A dare leads you away from the fire, deeper into the midsummer night. The consequences, may prove worse than a wounded pride, had you simply not accepted this challenge.

Multiple Marvel Characters

What You Need 🔥🔥🔥  //  Steve Rogers/Reader; Thor/Reader

[Post-Infinity War, Pre-Endgame] The Snap changed people— it changed all of you— and mostly for the worse. After a year, your long-term relationship with Steve is nearly in shambles, and somehow you’ve found yourself in a vicious cycle of secrecy and lust with Thor, both of you taking out your frustrations and anger on each other. Part of you wishes for the time before, when you were content to be on the arm of Captain America and he still looked at you the way he used to, full of love and admiration, but the rest of you that had picked up the pieces after all your friends got dusted? She told you there was no going back to who you were before, and Thor knew that better than anyone.

Part 1  🔥

Part 2  🔥

An Indecent Proposal 🔥🔥🔥  //  Peter Parker/Reader/Quentin Beck

Millionaire inventor and businessman, Quentin Beck, gives you and your boyfriend an offer you can’t refuse after Peter meets him at work. (AU — both Peter & the reader are in their 20’s)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3  🔥

Part 4  🔥

Part 5  🔥

Epilogue

Narcos (Netflix)

Javier Peña

Señorita 🔥🔥🔥  //  "You say that we're just friends, but friends don't know the way you taste." You don't know what you and Javier Peña are, but you do know it's definitely not just friends.

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby

Where Good Girls Go To Die  🔥🔥🔥  //  “Go on, then. Walk out that door! See how much Thomas Shelby will want you when you’re penniless!” Not even the threat of losing everything could keep you away. Family forbiddance, be damned.

Prisoners (2013)

Detective David Loki

So Much For My Happy Ending  //  Imagine being the reason Detective Loki doesn’t have a partner

Star Wars

Cassian Andor

East of Eden 🔥🔥🔥  //  It won't last forever--- can't last for more than right now, but you're as close to paradise as he's ever been, and in his line of work, he's learned to take blessings where he can get them. You? Well, you never could say no to your Captain, and as for the rules? You were both rebels for a reason. Mutually assured destruction, that's what this is.

Obi-Wan Kenobi

As Sure as the Suns Set 🔥🔥🔥  //  Obi-Wan is bound by the Jedi Code, but haven’t you heard? All the Jedi are dead. Stripped of everything, all that remains of his duty is a boy he must protect, and feelings he has no reason to hide anymore.

The Most Dangerous Part About Me, Is You 🔥🔥🔥  //  Sith!Obi-Wan AU // Praeses (Latin) /ˈpriːsiːz/ ; guardian, protector, governor  //  Darkness consumes him in a way you’ve never seen. You’ve loved him, in more ways than you could ever admit, but the man he’s become— it scares you— and what you’re becoming, scares you even more. One choice. The galaxy may never be the same.

The Lonely Planet 🔥🔥🔥  //  It’s been ten years since Obi-Wan was left on his own with only his guilt and sense of duty to keep him company. The very same duty that threatens to tear him apart brings him to a bittersweet reunion with someone he thought he’d lost long ago. It still doesn’t make what he has to do any easier, though.

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson

Second-Hand Emotion  //  ”I didn’t know what to do so I… I ran away.”  || It’s been months since you last saw him, the only man to break your heart. Hell, he’s the only one who ever could. Filled with regrets, it’s too hard for Eddie to lie to you this time, as circumstances beyond your control bring the two of you together.

Gentle With Me 🔥🔥🔥  //  He tells me, he’s gentle when he wants to be, so I think he wants to be gentle with me. || Moving on in a town like Hawkins after everything that’s happened isn’t easy, but you’ll do it together.

Steve Harrington

Girls On Film 🔥🔥🔥  //  You need a subject for your photography class assignment. Luckily, your boyfriend is more than willing to help you out. Some pictures, however, might be better off left between just the two of you…

Multiple Stranger Things Characters

Hold on Loosely 🔥🔥🔥  //  Eddie Munson/Reader/Steve Harrington

There’s next to nothing truly known about the Upside-Down, but after you get stuck there with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington, you learn one thing: don’t touch the flowers. (Sex-Pollen trope)

Glimpse of Us  //  Steve Harrington/Reader; Eddie Munson/Reader

Said I’m fine and said I moved on; I’m only here passing time in her arms, hoping I’ll find a glimpse of us. || A series of events following the aftermath of the worst day of your life, and how Steve Harrington picks up the pieces that are left of you.

Supernatural

Castiel

Hell or High Water  //  Castiel has been acting weird. Popping up whenever you seemed to need him. In fact, if you had to define his behavior in one word, you’d choose, “overprotective.” For once, you’re the oblivious one.

Steve!Castiel // 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait

Gas-n-Sip  🔥🔥🔥  //  You just needed a job. Who knew that getting one at your local Gas-n-Sip would end up like this?

Dean Winchester

Heartbreak Hotel  //  Imagine Dean losing you because he slept with someone else to get his mind off you, but he didn’t realize you were in love with him too until Sam tells him you’re gone.

Jesse’s Girl  🔥🔥🔥  //  There was one thing you both wanted right now, and that was each other, consequences be damned. (Set in S4.)

Childish  //  Prompt:  “Well, when there are things out there that need to be stopped, you stop it. When there’s food out there that needs to be eaten, I’m damn straight gonna eat it.”

Dean Smith // 4x17 It’s a Terrible Life

Office Supplies and Love  //  Prompt:  “She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.”

Demon!Dean

Hide and Seek  //  Imagine Demon!Dean looking for you in the bunker.

Sam Winchester

Lucky You  🔥🔥🔥  //  Imagine telling Sam you want to take it slow. & Imagine Sam Winchester taking your virginity.

Multiple Supernatural Characters

While You Were Sleeping  //  Sam Winchester/Reader/Dean Winchester

You live a simple life. You go to work at Charlie’s Coffee House, you pay your bills, you fantasize about finally bucking up the courage to speak more than three words to the tall, attractive regular who you knew only by the name that gets scrawled on the side his coffee cup. Simple. Up until the minute you wind up accidentally becoming his fiancée, that is… and he doesn’t even know it yet.

Part 1  //  An Unexpected Engagement

Part 2  //  Long Road Home

Part 3  //  WIP

Black Magic Woman 🔥🔥🔥  //  Various/Reader

Sure, you thought Sam Winchester was attractive. You were a woman, after all; you had eyes, but never did you think that your time traveling with the Winchesters would evolve into anything other than harmless flirting and buried feelings. What would it take to cross that line? Turns out, all it takes is a bloodthirsty witch, and a curse in the midst of a hunt that’s way over all of your heads.

Black Magic Woman 🔥  //  Sam Winchester/Reader

Witchy Woman 🔥  //  Dean Winchester/Reader

Tarot Woman 🔥  // Castiel/Reader [WIP]

Teen Wolf

Chris Argent

Need  🔥🔥🔥  //  Chris picks you up from work.

Probably Should Have Closed the Door 🔥🔥🔥  //  Imagine being the Sheriff’s daughter and Allison’s friend and having a secret affair with Chris and getting caught while you’re having sex with Chris by your father.

Part 1 🔥

Part 2

Part 3

Can You Stay Quiet? 🔥🔥🔥  //  Imagine Chris bending you over his desk.

Part 1 🔥

Part 2

Derek Hale

There Was a Draft  🔥🔥🔥 //  Request:  Derek walks in to catch the reader in his leather jacket and smut ensues.

Humanity  //  Imagine Derek finding you out in the woods alone and having to reteach you everything about being “human” again, showing the pack a different side to his personality.

Deucalion

The Mighty Fall  //  Imagine being the only one of Deucalion’s Betas he couldn’t kill because you were his mate.

Isaac Lahey

Run  //  Imagine Isaac fighting to protect you.

Malia Tate-Hale

Little Victories  //  Imagine finding out you’re Malia’s sister.

Peter Hale

Boy Troubles  //  The reader is worried that Peter’s only after one thing after feeling their relationship is little more than a secret bedroom affair, so she enlists the help of Lydia, who promises she knows just how to make it all better.

Pack Dinner  //  Imagine inviting Peter to a pack dinner and him being suspicious at first but then being really grateful to you for including him.

Babysitter  //  Request: Peter has to look after a de-aged reader until she returns to normal.

Guys Like You  //  Imagine being super shy and Peter trying everything to bring you out of yourself more.

Don’t Take What’s Mine  //  Imagine you’ve been kidnapped by the Nogitsune and Peter demands for Stiles to tell him where you’re being kept.

Not So Well Met  //  Imagine leaving Peter speechless when you sass him. & Imagine Peter catches your scent and it makes him unable to control himself so he has to follow it and that’s how you meet him.

Escape  //  Imagine organizing an escape from Eichen House to save Peter. & Imagine the pack finds out about your relationship with Peter.

Death of a Bachelor  //  Peter reflects on getting married on the day of his wedding, partially having an existential crisis until he’s interrupted from his thoughts.

Guys My Age  🔥🔥🔥  //  You are determined to get your mind off of your now-ex, but what happens when you find your distraction in the arms of someone all too familiar, and how far will this go? (Mentioned ex-Theo Raeken/Reader) 

Stiles Stilinski

Sorry for Interrupting  //  Imagine catching Stiles cheating on you and instead of yelling, you quietly say, “Sorry for interrupting,” and leave before he can stop you.

Void!Stiles // Nogitsune

Take the Pain 🔥🔥🔥  //  Imagine being Isaac’s baby sister and having your virginity taken away by Void!Stiles.

Part 1 🔥

Part 2 🔥

His  //  Imagine the Nogitsune telling you he loves you in front of the pack.

Part 1

Part 2

Multiple Teen Wolf Characters

Squad Goals  //  Liam Dunbar/Reader/Mason Hewitt friendship

Imagine being known around the school as the Three Musketeers because you’re always around Mason and Liam.

Lying to Yourself  //  Peter Hale/Reader, Stiles Stilinski/Reader

You were in a happy with Stiles, weren’t you? If that was true, then what were you doing here, now, with him.

Birthday Girl  //  The pack decides to throw you a surprise birthday party, but the real surprise is who shows up.

The Cavalry  //  Teen Wolf/The Originals Crossover

Request:  “The reader is from a long, powerful line of witches, and her mother was a close friend to Talia Hale. Shortly after Talia’s death, the reader and her family moved to New Orleans, but the reader and Derek keep in touch, because they are close friends. As bad things start happening in Beacon Hills, he asks for her help, but instead of just her going, Klaus tags along, too.”

The Vampire Diaries // The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

I’ll Take What I Want 🔥🔥🔥  //  Elijah sees Klaus hovering around you at one of their famous New Orleans parties and he gets jealous and pulls you away to have his way with you and remind you which Mikaelson you truly belong to.

The Aftermath 🔥🔥🔥  //  Request: You come very close to death and it frightens Elijah when he realizes just how close you were to death, so he makes very passionate, tender love to you to let you know how much he loves and cares about you. 

Kai Parker

But He’s The Bad Guy  //  Imagine being caught making out with Kai, when he’s supposed to be the enemy.

Klaus Mikaelson

The Cavalry  //  The Originals/Teen Wolf Crossover

Request: The reader is from a long, powerful line of witches, and her mother was a close friend to Talia Hale. Shortly after Talia’s death, the reader and her family moved to New Orleans, but the reader and Derek keep in touch, because they are close friends. As bad things start happening in Beacon Hills, he asks for her help, but instead of just her going, Klaus tags along, too.

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Up Shit Creek, Without a Paddle 🔥🔥🔥  //  Daryl would do anything for Rick. The man had done more for him than his own family had. The kind of loyalty stemming from that ran deep inside him… So he probably shouldn’t be doing this right now with you on his mind, so quickly after you and Rick have broken up. Especially since he knows for a fact that Rick still has feelings for you. (Mentioned ex-Rick Grimes/Reader)

Part 1 🔥  //  Up Shit Creek

Part 2 🔥  //  Without a Paddle

Negan

I Had The Chance, You Had The Inclination 🔥🔥🔥  //  Being Professor Negan’s research and teaching assistant is not the easiest job in the world, not because he’s a difficult man to be around, but rather because he’s a difficult man for you to be around. One day while working in his lab, you suddenly find it gets a lot harder upon his realization that you may have chosen to apply for this position for more than just checking a box on your undergraduate résumé. (Professor/Student AU)

Sweater Weather 🔥🔥🔥  //  Autumn comes with a lot of things: cool air, holiday traditions, the slow trek of walkers as they wander down the road. This fall, however, is your first spent with Negan. That brings a whole new handful of perks that you just can’t wait to fully take advantage of. (Set in season 7~ish?)

Rick Grimes

Discreet 🔥🔥🔥  //  Rick finds it difficult to remain discreet after stuff & things have developed between him and Maggie’s baby sister, especially when she catches the eye of Spencer Monroe, who doesn’t shake off easily. Maybe Rick isn’t so good at sneaking around, after all.

YELLOWSTONE

Walker

he’ll never stay, they never do 🔥🔥🔥  //  Being a Dutton had never been easy, and being the youngest of your siblings made it even harder. The latest attack on your family has you starting to think that maybe Monica is right. Maybe your family is cursed. All you know for certain is that comfort isn’t something you find at home anymore. These days, you can only find that in the arms of the one other person on this god-forsaken land who doesn’t want to be here either. You’re both prisoners, but something about him makes you hope for freedom.

Arvin wonders if the man filling up his tank has ever heard of Knockemstiff. It’s a slim chance of it, but he tips his hat down a little further over his face anyway, shading it from the evening sun.

Down here in Tennessee, the radio hadn’t caught wind of the murders up north. At least, not that he’d heard, but Cincinnati had been a different story. Hitch-hiking his way across the States wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, and by the time he reached the edge of Ohio, Arvin figured a car of his own was the better way to go.

He’d never stolen a car before, but there were a lot of firsts happening this week, and when he saw this Pontiac left sitting with the keys dangling from the vizor, he figured it was as close as he’ll ever get to a gift from the Man Upstairs Himself, after all he’d done.

“There you go. Sixty cents worth of gas,” a heavy hand comes down on the driver’s side door, and Arvin has to take care not to jump at the thunk that resounds from just above his head.

Offering a kindly nod towards the older gentleman, Arvin takes the cigarette from between his lips, “Appreciate it. You have a good one, alright?”

“You, too, son.”

He watches as the man heads towards the car sitting at the other pump to offer service. This truck stop was picking up as it hit five in the evening, and Arvin figures he’d best get out of here, just in case someone with a good memory takes too good a look at him. Cranking the car again, he groans softly when he finds the tank just barely sits at half-empty.

“Shit.”

No way was he going to have enough cash to get him to Richmond, let alone the border. He was running out of money. Almost worse than that, he was running out of cigarettes, too.

“Hey, there,” comes calling, sugary-sweet, from the rolled-down passenger side window, snatching his attention away from the disappointing meter. She’s leaning into the window, wearing a tank top that advertised the Grand Ole Opry. Arvin can’t help the glance he takes at the way the swell of her breasts bunch together invitingly with her lean, his hand stalling on the steering wheel, “Which way are you headed, boy?”

She can’t be much older than him, if she even was to begin with. There’s an air about her that feels like a learned maturity, rather than an actual maturity. It’s almost like she’s putting on a show and he’s her only audience.

The way her grin cuts wide in manufactured friendliness against her lips; it makes him want to tell her, so he does, “South on 95, hoping to make it to Richmond.” Arvin takes a drag from his cigarette, pointedly focusing on keeping a polite gaze tracked beyond the sunglasses perched on her nose, rather than dragging it down to her breasts again, “I take it, you’re on your way somewhere, too?”

He knows a hitchhiker when he sees one.

“Anywhere but here, sugar,” she sighs, southern drawl in her voice, gesturing to the passenger seat, “Do you need some company? I could use a ride.”

In the back of his head, there’s a voice that says this is a bad idea.

“Don’t know if I’ll make it all the way,” he adds, nodding to the meter. “I’m runnin’ low on gas money.”

When his eyes drag back to her, a treacherous voice in his head tries convincing him otherwise. Still, she is a right pretty girl.

“I think I’ve got us enough to get us somewhere,” she offers up and that settles it, when he leans across the bench to pull the lock up on the passenger side.

“Why don’t you hop on in, then?”

“Thanks!” and she’s tugging open the passenger door to slide in beside him. Setting a small, woven bag onto her lap, she rummages through it, only to let out a dramatic groan as he pulls out of the truck stop and hits the paved road.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she grumbles, but judging by the pout on her face that he gets a glimpse of in his peripheral, it’s something, “Just realized I gotta’ get some more smokes, is all. Here I’ve gone and run out.”

Lifting his hips off the leather, he reaches with his free hand to tug the almost flat Marlboro pack from his back pocket, offering the whole thing to her as he says from around his own cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, “Only got one left, but you might as well have it.”

“Really? You sure?” she asks, hesitantly reaching to take it when he gives it an offering shake.

“Yeah, hell with it.”

“Well, damn,” her laugh is light, grateful as she takes the carton to pick the cigarette out with two chipped, manicured nails, “you’re a good fella’, huh…?” Lingering on the thought, she pauses from lighting up, to turn a bit in his direction and huff, “You know, I didn’t even get your name, I don’t think?”

“Arvin,” he keeps them at a first-name-basis, just in case, and watches at the stop sign as she flicks a lighter hot against the butt of the stick between her teeth, lighting it. She takes a drag of the cigarette like it’s the last breath she’s ever going to have, he thinks, and visibly relaxes into the seat beside him when she blows the smoke out of her lungs and the open passenger-side window.

“Arvin,” she repeats, tasting it on her tongue, drawing out his name, before taking another drag and pushing the sunglasses up to the crown of her head. Her eyes, he thinks, are just as pretty as the rest of her, framed by the way she’s done her hair, but not quite as pretty as the way she says his name, like it was something more interesting than what it was— like he was at all interesting to her, “Why, Arvin, it sure is nice to meet you. Been a good while since I met a boy with proper manners, ‘round these parts.”

“’m not surprised.” He just looks back to the road, agreeing with a distant look in his eye, “There’s a lot of mean sons-of-bitches out there.”

“You sure are right about that,” she huffs out a chuckle, reaching over towards the radio with a questioning glance spared towards him. “Do you mind?”

“Nah, go on ahead.”

It’s Patsy Cline, singing through the static, and the girl riding shotgun beside him squeals excitedly at the bellowing tunes of the woman’s voice, “Do you like Patsy, Arvin?”

“I’ll listen to whatever’s on. Ain’t never been the picky sort.”

“Good, because I love her singin’!”

After the song comes and goes, and her low humming has stopped with it, he asks in an attempt to sate his curiosity, “So, where’re you comin’ from?”

“A little ways up north. You probably ain’t never heard of where I come from, Arvin,” she smiles, and if he could get a good look at her face, he’d see how it doesn’t reach her eyes, looking out the window as the smoke wafting from her cigarette escapes through the cracked glass. When she looks back to him, though, his stare is already back on down the road, “What about you?”

“A little ways up north,” a smile hints at the corner of his lips, as he takes his cigarette between his index and middle to dangle over the steering wheel, “You probably ain’t never heard of where I’m from, neither.”

Her laugh is louder than his reserved amusement, ringing, and he finds he likes the sound of it. It’s something like an open invitation to join in. It’s kind of like how someone would laugh with a friend of theirs. He doesn’t think he’s ever quite heard someone laugh as freely as she does, right now— this strange girl with an even stranger stranger in the driver’s seat.

Her laughter bubbles down into her shrug, “Guess it don’t matter much where you’re from, just where you’re goin’, huh?”

Arvin sighs, a subtle weight behind it, as he shifts his positioning on the driver’s side to ease up on the way his foot’s gone to sleep at the floorboard, “I sure hope so.”

His cigarette is burning low, by the time he tosses it from the window of the car.

It isn’t even an hour later when she turns slightly in the seat beside him, pointing out her own window, “Hey, would you stop up here, at that station? If you don’t mind. I gotta’ get me somethin’ right quick.”

He raises a brow, scrutinizing the small mini-mart at the corner of the road, just on the way out of another two-bit town. It seems empty enough compared to the truck stop before. He’s feeling less anxious with the medicine of his tobacco and the lack of people parked out front.

“Alright. Just, be quick. Don’t wanna’ keep the car runnin’ too long, you know?”

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, sugar. I’ll be in-and-out before you can even miss me,” she winks at him as he pulls in. The car’s barely even rolled to a stop before she’s hopping from the passenger side and stomping out her own cigarette on the pavement. She flashes a cheeky grin at him over the shoulder she pulls her purse strap onto. The door’s already shut by the time he can tear his eyes away from her, and he knows he must be blushing from more than just the sweltering Tennessee heat. No one’s ever been this forward with him in his life, but even he knows enough to think she’s flirting with him a little bit.

He wonders if she even goes to church on Sundays, this girl…

This girl that he’s just now realizing, never gave him her name.

He sits like that in the car for about three minutes, before turning it off while he waits. He’s set on asking her for that name of hers as soon as she gets back in the car, but then he hears the distant ring of the shop door, signalling a patron’s departure.

Any worry about her name is lost in his shock at the sight of her running towards him with a plastic bag in her hand, shouting, “Start the car! Start the car!” It’s instinctive, he doesn’t even really know he’s doing it, as he fumbles hastily for the keys and cranks it, right as she’s practically jumping into the passenger seat, screaming at him to, “Go, go, go! Lay that hammer down, boy!” before her door’s even completely shut behind her.

The tires screech in unison with all the spiking adrenaline that he’s got running through his veins. Tearing out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, he just barely registers in his rearview mirror the shopkeeper shouting after them to stop— cursing and waving his arms in anger. Threatening to call the law. Any relaxation he’d gotten from his smoke is gone when he spots the revolver sitting in her lap, as she looks out the window, waving back at the shopkeeper, breathless with her laughter.

“What is that?” there’s a high pitch to his voice, not frightened, but almost angry, at whatever heat she’s put on their tail.

“It’s a gun,” she holds it up, as if for him to see, while her laughter dies down to a string of giggles, settling back into the leather seat.

“I know it’s a gun! What in the Sam Hell have you got a gun for?”

“A real nice trucker gave it to me. ‘Road’s a dangerous place for a pretty girl like you to hitchhike all alone,’ he said to me, ‘fore he handed it over,” Arvin clenches his jaw, swallowing down his anger as he looks back to the road. Something told him she was lying about how she acquired the weapon, but that’s not really what he cared about right now.

“Is that money?” he had nearly wrecked the car with the way he swerved on the highway at the sight poking out from the bag she’d thrown down on the floorboard in her haste to get in the car. She pulls it up into her lap to give him a good look instead of answering. It’s money alright, and Arvin thinks he could just about strangle her to death, “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

“Hell, Arvin, what’s it look like? Robbin’ a store, that’s what!”

“Why would you ever go and do somethin’ stupid like that?” his voice raises a few octaves higher, almost to a squeak at the end. “Now they’re gonna’ call the law to get on after us, damn it!”

“You said you needed money to get to Richmond, and besides, we were out of cigarettes!” and then she pouts at him like he’s done a wrong by raising his voice at her, instead of her literally committing armed robbery, “What? You don’t want any of this money? I’ve still gotta’ count it all up later, but I’m sure it’ll be enough to get us there.”

Arvin glances from her slightly hopeful, waiting gaze down to the bag of cash and back again, before finally settling on the road as his fingers tighten at the steering wheel, tapping a nervous beat, “No, you’ll count that money right now…” He draws out a groan, remembering to ask, “What even is your name, girl?”

With a grin, she pulls out a wad of mixed bills to start her counting, delight in her tone, “Oh, sugar, I just had a feelin’ you’d see things my way!”

She serves him up a name that he figures sounds just about right for her. Reaching into the bag on her lap, he helps himself to the fresh pack of stolen Marlboros there, and pops a fresh one between his teeth. He sure as hell needs it.

—

There was enough money to get you to Richmond, and then some. Somewhere between one and a couple hundred dollars, you’d lost count and leaned over excitedly to smack your lips on the side of his warm cheek, laughing about how the two of you had enough to drive all the way to Costa Rica even, if you wanted— which may have been an overestimation, but neither of you knew for sure if you even could drive from Tennessee to Costa Rica.

It didn’t matter, really.

What did matter was that no lights or sirens came up behind you throughout the afternoon’s drive.

It was the middle of the night when you pulled up to a seedy-looking motel. The flickering neon vacancy sign beckoned in only the weary and desperate, but the feature of a parking space directly in front of your room’s door was just an added bonus to the discretion that came at the front office. It was dishy, sure, but neither of you cared to draw too much attention, and that stolen Firebird of his sitting out front was attention enough in this neck of the woods.

Arven knew he’d need to get another car before he left this town.

The door is still open when you start dumping money onto the single queen-sized bed they’d had to offer. Arvin makes a point of hastily closing it right before you jump dramatically alongside the fanned money, giggling with the spread of your arms against the sheets, “We’re rich, Arvin!”

Arvin thinks there’s probably something wrong with you in the head, but who is he to judge?

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, but there’s a smile at his lips, too. You like to think that over these past seven hours sitting alongside him in a cramped vehicle, you’ve grown on him. Rolling onto your belly, you watch as he sets his shoulder bag onto the small table near the bed, taking off his ball cap to place beside it, the jean jacket on his shoulders following suit only a moment later.

He runs a hand through dark hair, adding a bit of body to the flat hat-head he’s sporting after a full day’s worth of wearing the thing. You find you don’t quite mind it on him. You thought Arvin was pretty good-looking, ever since you first spotted him sitting at the truck stop. Something about him has you on the borderline of swooning whenever he’ll fix those dark eyes on you. There’s something dangerous in them that you can’t fully place, but you know he tries to swallow it down. Hide it.

Still, you think you’ve clocked him well enough. You don’t commit robbery for just any man, after all…

For yourself, sure, but that extra pack of cigarettes was for him, and the fact you were even considering splitting your boon with your getaway driver is evidence enough that maybe there’s something gravitational in your orbit around each other, despite the few hours you’ve known him. Then again, you never really did have good taste in men.

“You got anythin’ to wear to bed in that little thing?” he wonders with a pointed stare to the bag you’ve been toting the whole time. You think he’s too compassionate for a partner in crime, but you kind of like it, too— the slight concern in his good-ol-boy voice.

“Why? What I’ve got on not doin’ it for ya’?” you shoot back and get the exact reaction you’re hoping for: that blush he’s been battling all down the road off-and-on at your teasing. You’re almost hoping that you’ve wound him up over these last few hours, maybe enough to snap, but he hasn’t yet. Not even once this whole time, and he covers up the hint of interest in his eyes well enough, right now. You know plenty of men who would tolerate less than what you’ve given him today before making a move, and the extra meat on your bones hasn’t kept a single one of them from taking their chance on you in the past.

Something about Arvin almost made you think he might be somewhat decent.

“That’s not what I meant,” the chuckle that falls from his slips is slightly awkward. “Just, didn’t know if you needed somethin’ else, is all. All you’ve got’s that tiny bag of yours. Don’t figure there’s much room for an extra set of clothes in there.”

You glance to the woven purse you’ve deposited alongside the money on the bed, rolling your eyes, “I got everything I need. Don’t you worry none ‘bout me.”

The look he gives you is unreadable when he moves to the side of the bed and reaches for some of the cash, dragging his thumb along the edge of a stack and causing it to flutter back together from where he fans it out. “What do you think? Gotta’ be a good five hundred dollars right here?”

You hum your agreement, “Something like that probably.”

“What’re you thinking about doin’ with it?”

“Right now?”

“You know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes, catching your own as he fans out the cash again absentmindedly. “We passed through Richmond, and you didn’t ask me to let you out. Where are ya’ really looking to get to?”

“We passed through Richmond, and you didn’t stop,” you shoot back cheekily. “Where are you really headed, Arvin?”

He sighs at your evasion of his question, seemingly debating whether to tell you the truth or not, before his brow relaxes with his decision, “I’m thinking about headin’ for the border, to be honest. Start over somewhere down there in Mexico.”

He was awful young to be already looking for a fresh start, but then again, so were you, so you don’t figure it too odd. There were plenty of people out there, who started out life being dealt a bad hand. You figure, he’s just another one of them.

“Do you even speak Spanish?”

“Eh… No… Can’t be that hard to learn, can it? Besides, don’t they get folks that cross over to Texas from Mexico all the time? They gotta’ speak some English down there, you’d think,” the sound of the fanning bills settles between you, when he sighs, “Don’t think I’ll ever be coming back, once I get out of here.”

“There ain’t nothin’ left worth going home for?” you murmur softly, catching his eye for a moment, “Or, are you running from something?” It’s a question that you don’t expect to get a straight answer to, but you were nothing if not a gambler.

He averts his gaze back to the wad of cash in his hands, and fans it out again, “Weren’t you the one that said, ‘It don’t matter where you came from, just where you’re going?’”

“That I did,” you hold up your hands in surrender, before smacking them back down on the comforter to push yourself up to sit on your knees. “To be completely honest with you, Arvin, I don’t really care much either way about whatever it is you’re running from.” Moving towards him, you hum, “Just hope it don’t catch up with you, one of these days.”

“We all gotta’ answer, eventually, anyways,” his voice sounds distant, like the words aren’t even his, when he says them.

You aren’t surprised he’s religious. Most folks in these parts are. You were, once. Nowadays, you wonder more if there’s a reason behind what all you’ve been through. Most days, you figure there can’t be.

Still, his words make you pause and breathe, before, “Maybe…”

He looks only slightly relieved by your indifference to his answer, and when you reach out to take the cash from his hands to start your splitting of it, he keeps his grip tight, halting you with the question in his eyes, “What about you, huh? If I’m running, then what’s it you’re doin’? I told you where I’m headed. It’s only fair if you return the favor.”

“Oh, I already told you, sugar,” you nudge along the edge of the bed on your knees, towards him. He straightens up a little with your increased closeness, and the sly smirk on your lips, “I’m going anywhere but here.”

You don’t need to tell him that you’re running, too. You think he’s already figured that much. He’s smarter than he lets on, you think, with how much he likes to watch instead of talk. You don’t want to tell him more than that. He doesn’t need to know your little sob story and, besides, you’d much rather focus on detonating that look in his eye that seems to swallow you whole and keep you at a distance all at once.

“That right?” is all he can manage, but it’s flatter than a question, more like a statement. An exhale of realization. One short, low gust of a sound brushing up against your lips as you straighten your back to angle your head towards his teasingly. He looks like he’s out of his comfort zone, but there’s a dark look swirling somewhere in the browns of his irises that urges you onwards. For a split-second you wonder if he’s a virgin, since he hasn’t grabbed at you yet like other men have at your teasing.

You decide to test your theory, “Do you need some company?”

“Like…” he clears his throat, brow furrowing as he swallows, holding your gaze with his darker one, “you mean, down to Mexico, or…?”

“Could be both,” you hum, and he finally releases his grip on the cash as your spare hand curls fingertips into the belt loops of his Levi’s, giving him a gentle tug that punctuates your point clearly.

“Oh.”

“What? Haven’t you ever been with someone before?”

“I—” he fumbles, probably from your bluntness, flushing in his ears as his hand reflexively reaches for your hip when you tug him another step closer by his belt loops, “Yeah. Just, been a while since, is all.”

You can feel a smile slipping along your lips, biting down on it to keep it from growing too wide, too wolfish, “How about we put an end to that dry spell of yours?”

His brows raise just slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips absentmindedly, with his own searing bluntness, “You screw around with all the guys that pick you up?”

“Only the ones I like,” you shoot back, giving his belt loops another teasing tug towards you. He takes the step closer, to your unabashed glee, until his knees are brushing the edge of the bed. He really was gorgeous, with the way his brow arches at you as an amusement tugs the corners of his lips upwards for a brief moment. With a face like that, you’re at risk of losing more than your good sense, “Turns out, I just so happen to like you, Arvin.”

“I don’t have any, uh,” he murmurs, and there’s that blush again, flaring up his neck to burn at his ears, a hint of frustration in the way his eyes flick down to your lips, but you only grin a little wider, “well… protection.”

“I’ve got us covered,” and when you lean away from him to move towards the bag that held the remainder of your stolen items, he sways a bit in your direction before catching his balance on one knee pressed into the bed, steadying his breath as well as his posture as he looks on after you.

You don’t care that you’ve pretty much presented yourself to him as you reach off the opposite end of the bed to snatch up the bag that had previously been left forgotten on the floor, tugging the box of fresh condoms from among the cartons of cigarettes. Turning his way, you shake the box victoriously, earning a mixture of amusement and surprise in return as he nods towards it with an upward jut of his chin.

“You had this all planned out, huh?”

Shrugging, you chuckle innocently, “I just figured they’d come in handy eventually.” Moving back towards him, you toss the box near the head of the bed in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck, “So, you wanna’ do this or not, sugar?”

“Well, we need to get all this money off the bed first, don’t we?” but his hands are at your waist, bringing your chest flush to his, and the simple act of his displayed interest is enough to warm you from head to toe.

“Don’t you like the idea of doin’ it on top of all this cash? Wouldn’t that just make it twice the fun?” you’re only half-joking and if he had entertained the idea for even a moment, you’re sure he knows you would have let him, but you don’t get an answer.

At least, not anything more than the hasty press of his lips against yours, and the melt of your body into his embrace. His lips are possibly the least reserved things about him, kissing, teeth and tongue intermingling with yours confidently enough, as he takes fistfuls of your body to pull you as close as can be to his. For a skinny guy, he’s stronger than you thought, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the squeeze of his hands at the curve of your ass. You earn a soft groan from the back of his throat, as your fingers stripe up the side of his neck on your pathway into his hair. Carding your fingertips through it, you deepen the kiss with your own returning hum of satisfaction.

His scalp is damp with the sweat that came from the heat still lingering in the air after the long summer day, but a drag of your nails down to the nape of his neck has him letting out the slightest of gasps. His fingers dip into the back pockets of your jeans. A gentle scrape of your teeth at his lip, and he’s coming up for air, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s still underwater, doused with the lust drowning in his pupils.

“I ain’t gonna’ risk tearing up this money. Last thing you need is another excuse to rob another store,” has you groaning, more for the show of annoyance than the reality of it.

“Boo, that’s no fun,” you chastise against his lips, only for him to capture yours once more, and, boy, does Arvin know how to kiss. This one’s slower, more drawn out and toe-curling in the way his eyes just barely shut, as if he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. Want, dripping from his every pore, and you wonder how he kept it so bottled up under that reserved façade of his that was cracking against you.

“Clean it up, and I’ll show you just how fun I can be, darlin’.”

Maybe, he was more rough around the edges than you first thought.

Temptation licking at your heels, you decide to test him further, feeling out for any buttons you could possibly push of his, while you try to figure out what exactly makes this boy tick, enunciating a slow, “You can try and make me.” It’s as much of a reckless dare as anything you’ve done thus far.

Can he see it in your eye?

You’re certain it’s there, but something shifts behind his own stare. Like a cog clicking into place, spinning him to life with the rough shove he uses to push you down against the bed with a squeal that’s more excitement than fear when your back bounces, knocking the wind out of you in the split second it takes for him to be atop you.

“You trying to get me riled up?” he begins, voice calm despite the quickness to his breath as you struggle against him. It’s more for the fun of it, than in an actual attempt to escape from beneath him, until he finally gets a good grip on your wrists and pushes them forcefully down into the mattress alongside your head. For such a skinny little guy, boy does he have some strength to him, because you know you’re not going anywhere. You’re gasping up at him with the effort of your wrestling, teeth bared in your grin as his jaw clenches, and he tilts his head, thighs firm and solid along the underside of your own, where he rocks into you, over you, keeping you pinned down, “I asked you a question. Are you tryin’ to rile me up?”

“So what if I am?” you croon up at him in a heavy self-satisfaction with the position you’ve gotten yourself into, beneath him. “Maybe, I like my men a little riled.”

He lets out a calculated, heavy breath through his nose, hum rattling in the back of his throat, before warning, “That ain’t a good idea with me.” And you’re not feeling nearly as satisfied with yourself anymore when his grip on your wrists weakens, and he’s leaning up off you a bit, taking the delicious weight of him with him. “Don’t wanna’ wind up hurting you or nothing.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you shoot back a tauntingly disappointed, “Aw, not even a little bit?”

His tell is the way he holds your gaze for just a beat longer than he would have, if he weren’t into the thought at all, and you know you’ve got him.

When he tears his gaze away with a slight shake of his head, it doesn’t fool you, “Fuckin’ course not.” But he looks back, and you see the truth of it in the uncertainty there, swirling, looming, dark.

Oh, this boy liked hurting, probably more than he’d ever admit. There’s a monster, lurking beneath the surface of his control, and the ache lingering in your wrists from how tight he’d had you in his grip a second ago is enough to prove it. Maybe, if you weren’t so fucked up yourself, that thought would have scared you, more than it excited you. All your suspicion does in reality, though, is make you need it more.

He tries to hide the glimpse of it you’d seen, with that carefully collected composure of his, as he grunts his order, “Now, go on and pick all this money up.”

It’s probably the most unwise thing you can do, to keep pushing his buttons like this, but you don’t have the best judgement right now and you haven’t known him long enough to decipher where the line between this and too far is quite yet. Reading him, fortunately, is something you’re dying to learn how to do.

“No,” you know it shocks him, your blatant defiance, as you raise your knee up between you, settling right in the center of his abdomen, and push him back until he catches your calf in a tight grip, “you clean it up.”

There’s that tight jaw again, the dark flash of his eyes, and the pause that lingers between you permeates the room as he watches you watch him with a devious tilt to your lips. Like a woman smiling at the devil, rather than fighting him.

“Is that how it’s gonna’ be?” he begins slowly, fingertips digging into your calf as they slip up to your knee, regaining the distance you’d pushed him away while he stares down at you. His voice is more teasing than his grip, “You wanna’ fight some, girl? That what gets you off?”

“By the looks of things,” your eyes trail down the crew neck clinging to his torso, where it’s bunched up just a little by your knee planted on the curve of his abdomen, and lower, beyond the flash of farmer’s tan you get a peek of, to the growing hard-on that’s clear, even through his jeans, “it’s what gets you off, too, Arvin.” He looks like he’s chewing his inner cheek, thinking, when his eyes narrow at you almost defensively, and you sigh, “Don’t look so sour.” Lulling your head back a bit, the muscle of your calf jumps as his fingertips graze your inner thigh, tempting, “There isn’t anything wrong with wanting a little pain with your pleasure. Sometimes gettin’ a little rough can be fun.”

“That what you want?” he asks plainly, but the hesitance in his eyes is still there. Skeptical.

“I want to feel something, Arvin,” you speak, just as plainly, your statement sparking the interest behind his eyes, a hint of understanding softness with the hard shelled exterior. He knows what you’re talking about, you can tell. Reading people was something that came easy, when they were just as broken as you, and something was, truly, broken in this boy. You just couldn’t tell quite yet how deep his cracks went. Voice soft, the question on your lips punctuates the silence, as much a plea as it was a challenge, heated by the intensity in your eyes, “Can you make me feel something tonight?”

Truthfully, you’re about ready to drop it, should he refuse, and take what you can get off him. If only to chase that high once more, or at the very least satisfy this craving in your gut, you try to reach for his fingers pressed into your calf. He lingers on his thoughts a beat too long, makes you worry his hesitance is an answer in itself. Then, he asks a simple question, and sets your fates in stone.

“How rough?”

You wet your lips in anticipation, “If I want you to stop, you’ll know it.”

“How?”

“Hm?”

“How will I know?”

“I’ll tell you…” you roll your eyes, only barely joking when you tack on, “and if you don’t stop, well, I’ll just have to kill you.”

That gets something like a chuckle out of him, but it’s heavy, weighed down with something else, and he squeezes your thigh with the upturn of his lips, warmth spreading to your core, “Fair enough.” He looks down to your knee, pressed up against his abdomen, and catches you around the ankle with his free hand, grip tight, before meeting your eye once more under the shade of his furrowed brow, “You sure about this, darlin’? You really want me to get rough with you?”

“Just don’t leave any bruises,” is your only request, and you’re nearly thrumming with the low edge of excitement in your veins, at what he might do, “visible, that is.”

He hums low in acknowledgement of your request, before his demeanour shifts. Eerily calm, eyes cold, but there’s something behind the stare. A fire. An anger that’s too dipped in lust to be real. Maybe something else, but you don’t have the time to pick up on it, before he’s tossing your legs off him, the rest of your body with them, and pushing your face down into the mattress from where you wind up on your side, fingers digging into your jaw as he catches your eye once again.

He growls, and if you didn’t know better, you’d say there’s a threat in his tone this time, “Clean this shit up, girl.”

You whimper under the force of his grip, both with the slight pain of the way he forces your head against the mattress, and the muddy arousal his show of force drags you through. Fight or flight, when a heavy hand comes down on your ass, then once again in quick succession, stinging even through your jeans--- he wasn’t starting slow, he was going all in.

If you want it rough, it seems he’s obliged to give it to you.

“Bed’s a fuckin’ mess,” he continues, taunting down at you, “You gonna’ talk back now? Or you gonna’ shut up and do what I say this time? Huh?”

A warm shiver spreads down your spine, reflexively mewling in obedience at the connection of his hands on your body, and the demand in his tone, “Yessir.” It scratches some dark, deranged, fucked-up part in your brain that is connected directly to the heat between your legs, because God you like how he’s able to manhandle you.

“Do it then,” and he pushes you down once more before his hand is gone from your face, and he’s leaning off the edge of the bed. Standing to scrutinize your work as you catch your breath, “Get on with it.”

You push yourself up more slowly than you think he would like, and begin to collect the crumpled cash, not nearly as neat as it once was, before the two of you had started rolling around on it. Arvin toes off his work boots while he watches, and by the time you’re through, he’s tugging his belt through the loops of his jeans. The jingle of metal catches your attention for a split second, halting your movements for just as long as it takes for him to raise a brow at you expectantly, and you continue.

Spitefully, you huff once it’s all collected, “There.” Glancing over your shoulder, it’s a conscious choice to see how far he’ll take this, when you decide to throw the wad of cash directly at his chest, “Happy?”

For the split-second it takes for the money to hit him and fall to the floor, it’s like he can’t believe you did it. A flash of anger in his eyes, a taste of satisfaction on your tongue, before he moves on you.

He’s quick, startlingly so, as he captures you by the hair at the nape of your neck with a strong fist, earning a squeak of surprise more than pain in response to his growl, “There’s that smart mouth again. Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?” Even through the manufactured anger in his tone, you hear the excitement that hangs at the end of his every word as he drags you back into his chest and crawls behind you on the bed.

“You—” it sounds more like a moan, or a whimper, when he tugs you back by the hair just enough for his other hand to wrap around your front, pushing at your jeans.

“You just don’t know when to quit. Tossin’ that money at me— I oughta’ make you pick it off the floor with your teeth,” his voice is so level, that you almost believe he’d do it. Then, his hand digs into the waistband of your panties, down the slick center of you, and he lets out a breath by your ear that heats you up from head to toe, “You’re awful satisfied with yourself, huh? Feels like it.” His fingers are resolute in their quick, blind exploration of the heated skin he presses between, seeking and finding your sharp bundle of nerves far too expertly for your liking, because you can’t stop the involuntary tremble at the flick of his fingers, “What, nothin’ to say now?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back, around a breathy moan when his fingers sink deeper until he nestles one inside you.

Arvin’s lips twitch into a smile, “Oh, you’re gonna’ get to that, don’t worry.” Before you can formulate another smart comment, he withdraws his hand and practically shoves you back down on the bed. You’re still trying to push yourself up on your arms when he all but tears your jeans down your legs, hardly stalled by the squirming you take to in an effort just to make his job harder. He flips you over when you almost kick him, and just when you get a good look at him you feel the harsh sting on your face that’s so sharp you almost don’t realize what’s happened. Your cheek blooms red when he takes your startled limpness to his advantage and drags you by the backs of your knees down toward him on the bed, “Don’t try to kick me, girl.”

He had slapped you— actually slapped you!

Your breath hitches, and you reach out to slap him back— but he tears your hands back down to the pillows above your head as you feel him slot his hips against yours with the way he’s got your thighs hooked over his own. The thick drag of his length is unmistakable as you curse him to hell and back, because there’s no way any of this should have you arching into him like it does.

The sting in your cheek is so jarring in contrast to the dragging pleasure that his hips wring when he curls them into yours, holding you down until you stop fighting back.

“This how you like it?” he asks, before leaning down to your exposed throat to drag his lips and teeth there, biting only slightly with another thrust of his hips into yours. His jeans were unbuttoned, belt clanking on the metal accents of the denim, but the bulge in the fabric of his underwear that peeked out over the undone zipper caught your attention when he leaned back. The fabric was slightly damp from your own wetness when he ground it against you again, before abandoning one of your hands to reach down between you and fully pull himself free.

Teeth against a wrapper tear it just enough for him to roll the condom on between you, before it’s discarded along with the box off the side of the bed. You thought about trying to hit him back again, but instead became thoroughly distracted at the sight of the length of him as he tapped the tip against your clit while looking down at the sight himself. Dark hair fell into his eyeline before he glanced back up to you with a raised brow once your hand grasped the shoulder of his crew t-shirt, digging your nails in.

“Do it,” you dare, lifting your hips into the hard warmth of him. He drags himself through your folds again, never quite where you need him— purposeful, in that. You could strangle him to death, you think, when you growl again, “Arvin—!”

“I think,” he starts, cutting off any further comment from you with how fast his hand finds your throat and gathers your full attention to the way his eyes watch you. Dark, dangerous, slightly wild despite the restraint in them, “I think you should learn how to ask for things with a little more manners. Got a lot of gall to go ‘round demandin’ things from me when you been fightin’ me this whole time.”

A whimper is strangled there when his tip hitches against your entrance, only to drag up and grind against your clit again. He keeps watching your face, the stunned expression there.

“Don’t you think you should ask me nicely?” when you nod, he nods along with you, before relaxing his grip on your throat just enough for you to breathe more fully before the next piston of his hips practically steals your breath again.

“S-Sorry— I’m sorry, Arvin, please, forgive me?” you arch into him, putting on the best show you think you’ve ever achieved. “Let me make it up to you, baby— please, please—?”

Your voice hitches when he takes the chance in the middle of your pleas to push the full length of himself into you. His mouth falls open slightly when he does, his head rocking back as he practically leverages his whole body weight against the hand he has at your collarbone, pushing you down into the mattress at the same time your hips tilt upward into the sharp collision between them. He hardly goes slowly, or waits for your comfort— instead, he bullies his way into you and you find yourself religious again in the way you thank God he isn’t bigger than he already is.

Your thoughts scramble, warped around a moan at the forced stretch that borders on painful with how quickly he pulls back to bully forward even deeper on the next thrust.

His voice is wrecked, cracking slightly when he gasps, “Fuck—!” And your hand drops from his shoulder to his abdomen, right above where he’s buried within you, nails digging in as he pushes and pulls every last piece of you apart with every thrust.

His pace builds quickly, into a brutal smack of skin against skin that has completely dissolved the two of you into something animalistic and unrecognizable. The sweat on his brow drags down his temple and you’re mesmerized by the sight of it until you’re digging your heels into his denim-clad thighs to force him into you deeper.

The headboard of the queen-bed thumps against the wall in a rhythm that’s unmistakable for whoever the poor person was that had the room beside yours, but you don’t rightfully care, because he’s finding every spot deep inside you that you needed him to find.

When your hand trails lower, finding your clit, you gasp up at him, “Harder— please—”

And he obliges you, grasping your thighs to push them up until he hits you at an angle that you know neither of you will recover from, if the sounds coming from him are anything to go by. The look he levels you with, though, is possibly what pushes you under the tide of oblivion, when he leans into you to curve his hips purposefully against the rub of your fingers between you.

“Come on, darlin’,” his lips ghost above yours, breathing your air, ragged in his own heartbeat when he mirrors your own demand from before with the satisfied curve of his lips. “Do it. Do it.” It’s almost taunting, the way he says it, and the mean edge to it is just what you need to completely lose yourself in the feeling of his firm hands and lean body over yours— inside yours. Then, as you barely recognize what planet you’re on, let alone the hitch in his voice as he feels you coming undone, you hear a vulnerable, “Yes— God, I need you,” before his eyes shut and a shiver chases his thrusts into a jagged rhythm that leaves him panting and gasping for air over you.

You drag him down by a fist in his shirt, attempting to smother him entirely with the kiss you drown him, open-mouthed, into. It’s a soft violence, his end, that leaves a taste of blood on your tongue that you can’t tell is yours or his.

This boy, you think, you’d like to run away with.