#(you will fine him even when he is not there) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandalhoerian · 3 days ago

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Fish in a Birdcage ৎ୭

ৎ୭ ⸻ rafayel has quite the storm raging in his mind during his artistic expedition to aridum. which, the root of his crisis he was trying to wean himself off of wasn't supposed to tag along to make him spiral further. funny thing is, you just think he's sick. he is. just infected by something far worse than you can imagine: crippling dependency.

ৎ୭ ⸻ SO MUCH BUILD-UP, momentary sickfic, anxious attachment issues, rafayel being hot and cold with the reader, angst, exhibitionism for like 0.01 seconds bc of bond shenanigans, switch4switch and constantly changing dynamics that comes with it, handjob, slight obedience kink, impromptu bondage play with rafayel's neck piece praise kink, obedience kink blink and you miss it, p in v, CLOTHED SEX ITS SO HOT 2 ME, unprotected sex, multiple rounds.

ৎ୭ ⸻ hello lads fandom, FIRST WORK HERE (it sucked my soul out i've been working on this for like tHREE weeks)!!! this is my adaptation of rafayel's nightly rendezvous card intertidal zone. a lot of it is based on my reading and understanding of the card, i'm so sorry for releasing this when caleb just released but, i hope you enjoy, much love <3 ( lil tag: @comatosebunny09 )

ৎ୭ ⸻ 26K, read on ao3

In retrospect, finding out Aridum was a city in the middle of a desert should have made you stop and think more about how the climate would actually affect Rafayel before diving straight into travel plans.

You know, a Lemurian.

Who, logically, wouldn’t fare well in the dry heat.

Rafayel flicking off your genuine concern like it was a bug on the surface tension of his fish tank was the first red flag you should have paid more attention to. In your defense, since he’d been there before and was confident enough to initiate banter, it was easy to give in and trust he knew what he was doing as he batted his lashes at you with those pretty dual-colored, sparkly wide eyes that left you starstruck in the face and said, “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be fine.”

Well. He was with you now and he wasn’t fine.

Because for once in his life, Rafayel didn’t have enough energy to run laps around you. Just a few minutes outside the hotel, lingering near the grand fountain square framed by towering palm trees that offered scant shade, and he began to deflate pitifully like a garish balloon leaking its vigor into the sweltering air. His usual dynamism, the kind that pulled attention to him as effortlessly as a river carved its path, had dimmed to a sluggish ebb, so much so you found yourself glancing over your shoulder every ten seconds, vigilance heightened by the unsettling absence of his ever-present current. The languid pace like he was moving through molasses made him look like an entirely different person than the one tugging you through the airport with even the luggage excitedly rolling behind him.

And it had been just a single day since you’d set foot in Aridum.

That wasn’t to say the trip had been a disaster or he was in terrible shape — you two were still on day one. Back in Linkon, he was, on paper, enthusiastic about pointing out local landmarks for you to go together like he knew the city personally, but he had quickly lost that energy when it actually came to the execution. You chalked it up to him not being able to get any sleep the previous night because of a mix of jetlag and the discomfort of a new bed, but regardless, it was still concerning to watch him only interested in stopping by street stands where he could buy himself cold water bottles and stand in a shaded corner in order to drink them slowly under shelter, while also dragging you with him, so there wouldn't be even a split-second distance between you two.

You were thankful you didn't have many plans in mind. Rafayel always packed enough enthusiasm for the both of you, but now, as you watched with wide-eyed worry how his spark had suddenly wilted, the drastic shift in his personality left him finding everything he suggested doing utterly unnecessary for the day. On top of that, after only managing to sit still for five minutes or so, it'd become obvious to see that the environment of this city, complete with a sun beating down hot enough to cook you alive, had taken a toll on Rafayel's temperament far more drastically than expected — rendering his eagerness completely sour.

But still, you wanted to cheer him up, you did. It broke your heart seeing someone who brought so much life into every room shrivel down to such a defeated shell. Maybe that's why you couldn't help yourself when you caught him pouting at something on the phone screen as if it'd done him a great offense.

So, you began teasing. “Rafayel, we haven’t even been out for thirty minutes, you're sweating already?"

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you countered, only to squint at his face more closely. “Wait. You’re not?”

He threw his arms out like he was expecting a grander reaction. “Do you know what that means?”

“That you’re a human raisin in the making?”

He groaned, a sound that was more theatrical than pained, but you still caught the edge of frustration in it. “It means I’m seconds away from crumbling into sand. You’ll have to gather me up and carry me home in a jar.”

You started walking towards one of the fountains near some empty seats where shade was available, while he dragged himself behind you like a zombie. "Let's sit you down before you begin to form cracks."

The fountain’s spray misted faintly in the air, enough to make the stone bench beneath feel less like a skillet. Rafayel took extra care positioning himself on one of the seats before collapsing backward, draping one arm over his flushed face.

He took the bottle of yet another ice cold water you fished out from your bag without protest, but his free hand found your wrist and lingered there — light at first, then tighter, like he needed to anchor himself. The unexpected heat radiating from his skin sent a little jolt up your arm. You were about to comment on it, but then he tipped the bottle back and drank, and you swore you could feel the tension in his throat as if it was your own.

When he finished, he let out a breath — not a sigh, just an exhale that sounded heavy, deliberate, sprawling beside you, one leg stretched out, the other bouncing restlessly as he tilted his head back and squinted at the cloudless sky.

“I think I’m dying,” he announced, as if that wasn’t thr fourth time he’d said it today.

After your attention was made aware that he indeed wasn’t sweating by the dry hairline of his, though, the mood to banter had dissipated like a mirage. You began fussing. Was it normal that he didn’t sweat? If a normal person was like this, they needed to be taken to the hospital. However, Rafayel had done nothing but up the ante in complaining, that had to indicate nothing was seriously wrong, right? He’d know his body the best. Right?

“I told you to put on sunscreen this morning. Did you?”

He scoffed, “I don’t need it,” — and you heard the imaginary Lemurian in his tone rolling his eyes at your human expectations.

“Not with that attitude,” you shut him down, already skimming through your bag at an increasingly faster pace. “Now, keep still.”

Finding what you were looking for, you uncapped the bottle, reaching out with one hand to tilt Rafayel’s head left and right to gauge where to start. His skin under the pads of your fingertips felt almost brittle and paper-thin — unnatural on Rafayel, making you unconsciously rub like it was a stain you could get rid of. Without meaning to, you frowned, and he made a soft, lukewarm grumble, nudging your leg with his foot, reminding you what you were doing. Which was fussing over a grown man who should have been responsible from the start and able to take care of himself.

“Show me your forehead,” you said, wanting to get it out the way first.

He obediently carded his bangs back, silent, half-hooded eyes flicking everywhere on your face going ignored as you rubbed sunscreen in and felt what alarmingly was similar to a fever. It was a relief to hear him humming at the feeling, you hoped it would help as you quickly moved to spread the white lotion over his cheeks and smeared a stripe right across the bridge of his nose as he fixed his hair, squinting at your ministrations.

Though, somehow, he looked contented enough that you had to stop him from nuzzling into your hand. “Rafayel, I’m working here.”

All you got was a breathy, “Mmm,” as if he was speaking through the pleasant haze of sleep.

How contradictory of him, as always. For someone constantly grumbling about the unbearable heat, he leaned into every touch with a docility that defied reason — and worse, he initiated them, either molding against you like water taking the shape of the container it was poured into, or his fingers ghosting over your skin as though drawn by instinct. You couldn’t make sense of it. The mere thought of physical contact when the air was this heavy and oppressive made your skin crawl, but he seemed to revel in it. No, thrived on it.

It wasn’t just the way he didn’t flinch — he leaned in harder, his breaths hitching faintly, brow furrowed like he was wrestling with a need he barely understood. You’d swear the heat radiating from your skin would only make it worse, yet he tilted his face into your touch as though your thumbs brushing his cheekbones offered a balm, a strange, cooling relief.

Maybe, he perceived your skin to be indeed cooler than his.

It had to be something unique to his Lemurian physiology. His reactions didn’t make sense otherwise. What human would ever enjoy the sensation of warmth pressed against warmth in such sweltering conditions? And yet here he was, biting back what suspiciously sounded like a placid sigh, while you struggled to reconcile the peculiar contradiction.

“C’mon, don’t let me do all the work,” you muttered, quieter than you intended, the heat and the moment distracting you entirely.

You must have sounded a tad bit worried, because Rafayel didn’t react with his usual playful defiance or the melodramatic sulking he resorted to when things didn’t go his way. Instead, he fell silent, sinking more fully against your side as though he belonged there, and successfully narrowed the angle you were working with. His head tilted slightly, guiding your hand to the sharp line of his jaw with an unspoken invitation, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked, the haze of his voice turning soft and almost vulnerable. You couldn’t even see his face properly from looking at the top of the purple mop of hair blocking you.

"Do my neck too?"

Before you could decide, his hand encircled your wrist. Not tightly — not forcefully — but with a loose, guiding pressure that was maddeningly deliberate. He led your lotion-slicked hand to curve around his throat, the smooth, simmering heat of his skin pressing against your palm.

You hesitated, the instinct to pull away warring with the strange tension settling between you both, but his thumb found the delicate underside of your wrist and began tracing slow, thoughtful patterns that seemed designed to leave you paralyzed. You knew damn well how tenderly and skillfully he handled paintbrushes, and it was evident by the practiced precision of each touch that he was using the same sensibility on you, whether he was fully aware of it or not, which sent a warm burst of blood rising to your cheeks.

Seeming restless, Rafayel sat up straight and finally allowed you a clear view of him. His head tipped further back, exposing more of his neck to your hand, eyes darkened into to a shade of purple that seemed otherworldly in the harsh light of day. They glittered like faceted amethysts film-burned blue around the edges, soaking in every sunlit fleck of your features with a focus that made your chest tighten, like you were being studied with the assessment of the artist Rafayel before another’s painting, his focus unbroken save for the low hum he let slip, soft and unguarded.

You swallowed hard, aware of how exposed you were. The bustling world of Aridum hadn’t stopped turning just because the two of you had stumbled into whatever this was. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck, but it wasn’t just the desert heat making you feel like you were suffocating.

This shouldn’t have been happening. Not here, not now.

Your breath shuddered as you finally regained enough sense to break the silence. "Do it yourself," you murmured, voice uneven as you pressed the bottle of sunscreen into his chest. You looked away, clumsily rubbing your hands on your arms to mask the way they trembled, pretending to rid yourself of excess lotion while wishing desperately to erase the heat radiating off your skin.

Rafayel sighed, a low sound of reluctant acceptance, as he pulled himself upright. His fingers glided over his neck, spreading the sunscreen where you hadn’t, his movements smooth and unaffected as he worked the lotion over his collarbones and along the nape of his neck. The sight was annoyingly graceful, as though he wasn’t feeling the same unbearable tension you were. If you’d have thought of bringing a small electric fan along today, it would have been inches from your face already.

"Maybe we should’ve gone out at night," you said abruptly, grasping for any lifeline to shift the moment’s focus. Your gaze darted to him as he worked, your cheeks burning hotter than the sunlight that baked the streets. "Now I feel bad."

"What for?"

"Making you come along. This must not be very inspiring.”

Rafayel let out an honest-to-goodness laugh. It rolled from his throat so easily and naturally that it seemed even he wasn’t aware of it until the sound tapered off into a quiet chuckle. Shaking his head, he leaned toward you until his temple rested lightly on your shoulder, his gaze unfocused as he stared absently at the fountain ahead. "I’m not giving up time with you just because the sun here wants me dead."

He completely bypassed the part about inspiration, but the sincerity in his words hit you like a splash of cool water on overheated skin. Your shoulders relaxed as you melted into a sigh, letting your head fall atop his, but the sticky warmth made the closeness unbearable almost instantly.

You promptly peeled yourself away with an, "Ugh.” He had already filled his making-you-feel-hot quota for the day, in every sense of the word.

Rafayel straightened just enough to meet your gaze, "That’s how you answer my heroic declaration?" he asked dryly, one brow arched in faux offense.

He didn’t budge, though, even though the heat seemed to bother him more than it did you. The stubborn set of his jaw spoke volumes, and it took a gentle nudge of your elbow to get him to finally sit upright. Even then, he let out a dramatic whine from deep in his chest as if being forced to separate was a personal betrayal.

"You’re lucky I’m rewarding it with mercy," you shot back, brushing a hand through your hair to vent your own rising frustration with the heat. "Come on, let’s head back. I need to get my fishie in the water before he dries up completely."

"But you wanted to see—"

"There’ll be plenty of opportunities in the future," you interrupted with a wave of your hand. "If anything, this was a good lesson about choosing the time we go out more carefully."

To your relief, Rafayel didn’t push back. He rose to his feet with you, though his sluggish movements and the slight downward pull of his lips suggested reluctance. As much as his leaning on you had been irritating in the heat, the sight of his faint frown made your chest tighten, and without thinking, you looped your arm through his and pulled him closer, even though the contact made your already overheated skin feel unbearable. His shoulders straightened slightly at the gesture, but the small crease between his brows didn’t disappear.

"I hear it’s seafood night at the hotel restaurant," you offered, attempting to lift his mood. He was obviously bummed out, but his stubbornness refused to show why outright. It was cute to a degree — childish almost, so endearing you couldn't find it in yourself to grow impatient with him. But you hated seeing him down. "If we head back now, we might snag a rooftop table.”

"Snag? Puh-lease. Worst case scenario, one glimpse of me and I could get us prime seating any time, anywhere," Rafayel scoffed. Still, the corner of his lip twitched upward as if tempted to smile, and you found yourself mirroring the reaction immediately. “And that whole thing would still be less bothersome than you assuming I haven’t secured us a reservation already.”

Later that evening, after dinner on the rooftop, the mix-up with the room service attendant delivering Rafayel’s envelope to your room turned out to be a convenient excuse to check on him. It had been hours since you insisted he take time to rest, and while he promised to settle in and let you know how he felt after freshening up, you hadn’t heard from him since.

You were greeted by the humidity hitting you in the face like a solid wall of rain when the door got opened though, instead of your boyfriend. Thick as fog like it had its own gravity.

Rafayel stood in the doorway, his hair dripping and clinging to his flushed skin in lazy dark purple rivulets, robe loose, the soft fabric blotched dark with water where droplets had slid from his neck and shoulders.

The room behind him radiated a different kind of heat — not the oppressive dryness of the desert, but the heavy, steamy warmth of someone trying to crawl their way back to comfort in the only way they knew how.

He looked better, at least.

The brittle edge that had been clinging to him seemed softened, as if he’d soaked away some of the tension in the beath he’d clearly stepped out of upon you knocking on his door.

Still, the sight of him — damp like a wet cat instead of a fish in his natural environment, robe-clad, the faint sheen of exhaustion still lingering in the way he leaned against the door frame left an odd twist in your chest.

He didn't look any worse for wear than he had earlier in the day when he’d claimed he wanted to spend the rest of his night marinating in ice cold water, and while seeing him not suffering was a relief, you clearly weren't expecting for him to actually mean what he said, even though the water obviously wasn’t ice cold.

The envelope, as it turned out, held a ticket to the memorial hall and an invitation to an art salon gathering hosted by one of his friends. Neither looked to be sparking any interest in Rafayel, however, despite him having come here for as much stimulation as possible for his inspiration.

You understood. It just wasn’t possible when he wasn’t feeling well.

The room itself was telling the entire story, in fact, chaotic in its stillness against the beauty of the floor-to ceiling windows framing the desert skyline in soft, shimmering lights of the city crowned by the full moon hanging proudly above. Papers were scattered across the floor in uneven piles, some curling slightly at the edges where they’d caught the artificial moisture in the air, blank and untouched, and some haphazardly sketched in a way you couldn't even begin to guess what they would become later. A few uncapped pens sat nearby, ink untouched, next to a can of soda that had long since gone warm. It wasn’t hard to guess what he’d been doing — or trying to do — in the hours since you’d left him.

So, you told him to stop forcing himself. Come enjoy the scenery with you.

It was your first instinct, but the words didn’t feel enough. You weren’t an artist, you didn’t know what would be good for the block he was going through. Even though your concern was genuine, you were clumsy at best at consolation.

But, he did lower himself onto the floor beside you anyway, his hands brushing against the scattered papers as he sat and leaned back on his palms. Like this, it was easy to imagine him search for his vision to come to him among the mess as he was attempting to draw, and end up with his gaze drifting out the window instead.

And then, as if he were a tide and the moonlight was pulling him inexorably to shore, he began to open up. Pushed by your mention of watching the view together, he spoke of sceneries. Of what traveling to discover secret corners of nature meant to him before everything changed — before he started creating. About how he used to just look at the world and feel it. Admire it. He didn’t need to do anything with it back then. A sunset was just a sunset, the sea was simply the sea, and neither asked anything of him but to exist alongside them.

Once he began to create, however...

Those discoveries done from a place of pure enjoyment became material, their beauty and pain turned into fuel. The act of looking became an act of taking. Of extracting. He started to see the world not as it was, but as something that could be stripped bare and transformed. A beautiful, bleeding wound. Every sunrise painted became a slice taken from the sun. Every ocean wave he put down on canvas was a handful of ocean lost. He couldn't experience sceneries for themselves anymore without having to to capture and translate them into a demand.

He didn’t look at you while he spoke, but the portrait of his honesty could be interpreted by even the most art-blind.

It was then that he dropped the bomb on you: “If one day, I become someone who only takes from you… If I were like that, would you leave me?”

That question dropped into the space between you like a stone in still water, sending ripples through everything you thought you understood about this moment.

But Rafayel was watching you in a way that made your pulse trip over itself, dissecting every flicker of your expression, like you were sitting in the middle of a high-stakes exam you hadn’t studied for. His fingers splayed on the ground besides yours were mere inches away, but even in that minimal distance, you sensed him drawing further back — a subconscious, reflexive reaction to fear, as if he needed to protect himself by retreating into some remote part of his mind, distant and closed off from the rest of him.

"Oh you silly fishie..." was your immediate response despite the whiplash he'd inflicted upon you, fondness rolling off your tongue easily, folding over itself into a dull ache for the struggle he was going through. "I won't leave you."

Your hand slid towards him, pinky finger crossing over until it brushed against his — gently, giving him ample chance to pull away before you covered his entire hand with your palm.

He was feverish again, despite all attempts made to soothe him, and the urge to smooth the pads of your fingers over his flushed skin, mapping each ridge and freckle that dotted his knuckles, surged forward within you. And you gave in, trying to make up for what you knew words would never be able to express, as you lightly rubbed lines onto the back of his hand.

It seemed to melt something in him, and he eased into your touch. It was an involuntary response to you reaching out for him — he tilted into you like he always did. It only lasted a second or two, however, before you felt him falter; like he noticed the instinctual motion midway, then consciously pushed down the reaction by gripping his thighs in an effort to sit back and avoid leaning in. Your heart dropped a little, confused, and you stole a peek at his face through the corner of your lashes to try to guess what he was thinking about.

What you saw only amplified how wrong everything felt. His features, which normally softened whenever you reached out for him, tightened, pensive. He frowned, holding back — hesitant about something, unreadable except for a subtle unease creeping in around the edges.

Even before he broke the silence, you had the awful premonition that his next words weren't going to be what you hoped to hear.

"Are you sure?" he asked, measured and quiet, and you knew you were right. This was trouble.

You squeezed his hand lightly despite wanting to do the very opposite, reassuringly, "Do you really think I’d stay even a second longer with someone I know is bad for me?"

He remained unresponsive.

“Rafayel?”

You made it about yourself, idiot, you realized.

Instead of acknowledging him and his cue for more reassurance and affirmation, you'd shifted the attention from him to trust in your decision making. You hadn't meant to, you hadn't done it deliberately — but...

Gosh, you were absolutely terrible at this.

So much so that Rafayel being the more emotionally in-tune of the two of you even in his vulnerable state was setting a humiliating new standard for how low you could go.

It was pathetic, really, how utterly you failed to pick up on what should have been an obvious cue. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that he’d taken your clumsy words as a glaring sign you found his struggles trivial, insignificant compared to your own convenience. All you’d managed to do was shove him deeper into the spiral of insecurities he was already battling.

This was supposed to help him clear his head. All it had achieved so far was adding onto his concerns.

Despite your determination to pour everything you had into assuaging the gnarled knot of his self-doubt, you were woefully unqualified for the task. Unmoored, you floundered blindly through half-finished thoughts, grasping for ways to communicate your feelings — gracelessly, imprecisely — all in hopes of soothing whatever ugly thoughts tangled around your boyfriend's brain like weeds choking the life from fertile soil.

Your stammering words stuck to the roof of your mouth like taffy, thick, unwilling to yield, and suddenly useless, coming out slow as you spoke. “What I mean by that is… My life has been consumed by you. In the best way possible. You made it ito a beautiful, chaotic mess bursting with life. I couldn’t possibly leave you.”

And he heard it — you felt it in the faint shuddering breath he drew as a silent response.

His thumb swiped over your pinky in absent response, stroking soothingly over the thin bones as he stared at your joined hands. His shoulders hadn't relaxed even marginally, but there was still an immeasurable kindness in the gesture.

“Besides, you’re not someone who takes. That’s not true at all. You’re just…”

He looked up then, turning his head to you, a doe-eyed, half-dazed blink breaking past the glassy stare he'd fixed on the empty space in front of him. His hand twitched underneath yours, flexing as he made a questioning noise, wordlessly urging you to elaborate as he invited comfort from your explanation. The way he tilted his head, the corners of his furrowed brows slightly angled upwards — the effect was childlike, innocent almost.

Receptive.

Breaking through your hesitation to touch him lest he shrink away again, you lifted both hands to cradle his cheeks gently, smoothing your thumbs across the high sweep of his cheekbones until his eyelids slid shut.

A soft sigh fell from his parted lips, his body pliant in your grasp as he melted under your fingertips, as if the gesture were more potent than any reassurance you might offer. The climbing tension within your ribcage dissolved with a single exhalation at the sight — helplessly endeared by his sheer willingless to submit to your awkward, inexpressive attempt at consoling. Subtle adoration burned quietly beneath each featherlight caress you placed along the slope of his nose or the soft patches underneath his eyes.

"You're just feeling a little anxious," you continued carefully, brushing a stray piece of damp hair away from his temple. It stuck stubbornly, refusing to let itself be tucked behind his ear before you tried again, gentler this time, hoping to soothe any lingering reservations you hadn't managed to wash away. “That’s probably why you’re overthinking things.”

In the brief silence that followed, anxiety bubbled low in your stomach once more, especially when he seemed to be focusing somewhere on your neck and ignoring looking you in the eye directly. It came as yet another whiplash and a sinking feeling simultaneously when he covered one of your hands with his, tilting his chin to plant a kiss into the centre of your palm as if making up for the withdrawal from earlier.

"What, were you playing tricks on me?" you murmured.

Shaking his head, "A token of my gratitude," he clarified. A gentle huff of laughter slipped past his lips, so faintly that you would've missed it had you not been staring at him with rapt attention in your bewilderment. "For you. Who accepted someone like me."

You frowned, eyebrows immediately drawing close. “Rafayel—”

He leaned in all of a sudden, one of his arms slid behind your back, while the other stretched across in front of you, caging you in with an unnerving ease. Both his hands rested flat against the floor now, framing you on either side like a living barricade. Your own left arm shot down to slap a palm down so you wouldn't topple over on your side. The droplets falling from his damp hair onto your neck was a sharp, sudden cold in comparison to the alarming heat radiating from his body, making you jolt in place as he loomed close enough for his breath to fan across your face.

"You're burning up again," you said weakly, trying and failing spectacularly to disguise your nervousness with indignance as his lips brushed softly against the apple of your cheek before ghosting lower, pausing just beneath your ear, testing for a reaction.

Meanwhile, him taking your hand that was balled up in a fist on the ground to slowly bring it towards his mouth left you frozen and dizzy from the contradictory sensations prickling under your skin.

Rafayel hummed against your wrist in response, dropping light kisses along the ridge of bone connecting your thumb to the rest of your fingers in the interim. It was impossible to ignore how every one of his touches ignited something different within you — the sensation of him painting the length of each finger with tender brushes of his lips and heated exhales sent pulses of liquid warmth flowing through your bloodstream.

The abrupt shift had left you uncertain about many things, chief among which being whether your previous efforts actually sank in at all or not.

Apparently they had.

The combined assault was distracting, but even amidst the whirlwind of thoughts vying for attention, you struggled to fully comprehend just how drastically the moment had veered off course — how your own worry-stricken attempt at appeasing him ended here instead, with your pulse hammering in your ears as he pressed even closer, draping his arm around your waist to turn you sideways until you were nearly sitting on his lap, faces inches apart.

A glimpse hope of maintaining control over the situation arrived in the form of a can toppling over during his handling of you, clattering on the hardwood flooring and startling you enough to snap free of the strange trance Rafayel had ensnared you in during his momentary lapse in focus.

Being so close gave you a good look at the change in him that manifested suddenly; his features visibly hardened as he turned his head at the disturbance, seemingly irritated to have been interrupted midway — a dark glint shone through his lashes before shifting over to you, misty, hazy, indescribable in its raw complexity.

His bathrobe hung loose, the neckline slouched further down one shoulder from having moved so much earlier, displaying more skin than was appropriate, and you weren’t sure if you were imagining the faintest hint of familiar coloration mottling his chest.

Which was dry.

Not only had his skin absorbed all the moisture that clung to it like a sponge after stepping out of the bathroom, there was no hint of perspiration whatsoever — not a bead of sweat lining the ridges of his collarbone or dampening the strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

As if responding to your inner thoughts, he lamented, "As you said, I'm anxious... Well, more like... Restless," before leaning in further to bury his face in the crook of your shoulder. "Ever since I arrived here, I feel..."

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against the expanse of his chest and filling your nose with the scent of bodywash. It was no less than holding a solid block of heat capable of radiating more than enough warmth to replace an actual human furnace. The sheer amount of radiated temperature seemed ridiculous in such conditions, but the way he tried the loosen the already disheveled robe covering his other shoulder despite coiling around you, which had to be the source of the biggest discomfort concerning heat, was even more ridiculous. Shouldn’t he have let go of you before complaining?

"The air feels like it's burning, like there's not enough moisture anywhere. My heart's racing and I feel so miserable," he admitted quietly, muffled in the material of your shirt.

Yeah, you were taking him to a hospital.

This wasn't normal by any means, especially since you were now a hundred percent sure Rafayel couldn't sweat in order to regulate his internal body heat.

How could you let this go on for so long? He had been suffering these symptoms for a whole day now, hiding it all under layers of petulant frustration and overdramatic complaining to escape having to ask for help.

He was always like this. So secretive and reserved about his struggles underneath all the goofiness, especially those directly related to him being a Lemurian.

You put a hand on his burning chest and pushed yourself away to put some distance between the two of you and this moment, ignoring his quiet gasp and the way he clutched your waist. "I'm taking you to a—”

Suddenly, the world spun off its axis, a dizzying blur of motion that ended with your back colliding against the floorboards.

The impact sent a ripple through the room — drawing pens clattering and rolling away, half-sketched papers crumpling beneath you, while others scattered into the air like startled birds, carried by the gust of displaced air.

As you blinked up, trying to shake the daze from your mind, the world sharpened into focus.

The light cascaded over Rafayel like liquid mercury, accentuating every sharp edge and soft curve of his form. His bare legs straddled your hips, knees pressed firmly into the ground on either side of you, pinning you in place with an effortless authority. His hands had found yours in the chaos, and now your wrists were restrained above your head, his long fingers encircling them with a grip that was firm yet somehow shaky.

The bathrobe he wore hung precariously, one shoulder already exposed to the moonlight’s caress while the other threatened to follow suit, the fabric dipping low to reveal a tantalizing V that stretched from his clavicle down to his navel. Tendrils of lilac hair curled lightly downwards with gravity, catching the light from outside, glittering like morning dew against a canvas of violet satin and plopping down onto your face, each impact making you blink. And his face, suffused with a flush so intense that it seemed to glow under the pale lighting, as if all the blood in his body had rushed to stain his fair skin with an undeniable rosy bloom.

The cool floorboards beneath your skin were contrasting harshly with the heat of his touch, and the helpless position left your pulse racing in a way you couldn’t entirely blame on adrenaline.

Rafayel lowered himself until his nose brushed lightly against yours, his breaths shallow and uneven, eyes caught halfway between hazy drowsiness and burning intensity — a vivid shade of sunless plum made darker not by the shadows cast across his features, but a deeply buried and masterfully concealed emotion on the verge of making itself known to you.

To call it desire wouldn't do it justice.

It was something far stronger than fleeting arousal or casual infatuation — you hadn’t been looked at this way before. Weren’t even sure if a man could look at someone like this. There was nothing superficial or mundane about this particular weight. It sought to consume you. To burn you alive, leaving you to crumble into ashes like incense offered up to a deity. And the worst part? You had no idea what exactly you were being consumed by, or why.

All of this, because you had merely wanted to—

“No. I’m not going anywhere,” he hissed as if sensing your plan, breath dragging along the edge of your ear. "I'm just... restless.”

But—

“In every sense of the word.”

Oh?

Your mind reeled, dizzy from the intoxicating cocktail flooding your senses — from his breaths washing over the side of your neck, to the overwhelming sensation of Rafayel on the verge of draping over you like a living brand, hot and firm, trapping you in place.

"Especially when you're by my side," he purred.

Oh.

He pulled back to stare you down, heavy-lidded and glinting like knives honed razor sharp, yet somehow tender in his approach. If anything, it served only to accentuate the danger of whatever it was simmering below the surface. This was different than his Ebb Day state, but similar enough in its intent to be instantly recognizable — especially since it bore all the marks of the manic rush he fell victim to when succumbing to the lure of his instincts.

It was something primal in you that scattered your thought process into oblivion and made you look away instinctively, averting your attention toward the window off to your left — but the sparkling view of night time in Aridum was soon curtained by a flash of Rafayel's hand as he cupped the side of your face in one smooth motion.

The slight roughness of the pad of his thumb brushed along your cheekbone until his fingers sank into your hair, fanned along the outer edge of your ear, and turned you back to face him. The gesture felt proprietary, like he wanted to make certain he'd captured every last scrap of your undivided attention, like it physically hurt to allow even the smallest opportunity for you to withdraw and escape his grasp.

“Rafayel,” you forced your common sense to come out of its hiding place. “I don’t think—”

"But even so, I can't let you go. I don't want to," he breathed against your lips, punctuating his command with an achingly slow drag of his nose tracing yours. The contact made something molten unfurl in your belly, warm and sticky-slick and pooling in the hollow space below your navel, curling its tendrils through your veins like sweet, syrupy nectar. "What should I do?"

It would be easier than breathing to surrender and give him whatever he was asking for, but... but...

It felt wrong when he was so distressingly hot to the touch, not to mention you couldn't shake off the feeling he was doing his best to distract you from your worry by acting more brazenly suggestive than you'd ever seen him be before.

"You should rest, I don't think you'll enjoy getting worked up in your current condition—"

Your efforts were derailed with the subtle scrape of chapped lips running up the slope of your neck and a bite into the fleshy part below your ear as punishment for daring to answer his plea with platitude.

A shudder shook your frame, nerves firing off confused messages in quick succession throughout your brain, half demanding the sudden pressure recede and half urging more from the tingling heat. Your hand flew to grip his bare shoulder, fingers digging in until the tight bunch of muscle strained beneath his fevered skin — not enough to stop his ministrations, but enough to serve as a weak deterrent.

"Such lovely lips, spinning such pretty excuses," Rafayel huffed, drawing back and sweeping his thumb across your chin with gentle disapproval. "When we both know you don't want me to let you go either."

The words trailed off into something softer, tender, almost wistful, and were followed by the pad of his finger slipping past your parted lips, stroking along the underside of your tongue before drawing back and skimming across the wet patch he'd left glistening upon your bottom lip. As if magnetized, his smoldering stare followed, entranced by the minute trembling of your mouth, darting occasionally upward to capture your own hooded eyes at the sudden boldness of his gesture. He licked his own lips slowly as if thirsty, mirroring the same lazy stroke he'd used against your mouth, allowing you to take your fill of the sight.

No.

Before you could fall into his enticing trap again, your palm pressed firmly against Rafayel's chest until he eased back obediently, giving you space to rise, every single sensation previously pink at the edges quickly melting into clarity about taking care of him properly.

"This isn't the right time," you insisted breathlessly once you managed to catch your breath and speak, steadfast with the strain of iron will alone — pushing forward when your mind threatened to wander where his moistened lips had been just seconds before.

The mood was quickly dispelling, much to Rafayel's clear irritation, judging by the petulant slouch of his shoulders. You emphasized your point by putting your hands on his forehead, cheeks, neck, every patch of skin you could reach, the clear intent of medical examination being communicated silently until he relented with a dramatic sigh, turning his face upwards to expose more of his throat as if giving permission.

"It's fine," he groused reluctantly, although his grumbling somewhat relenting in volume under your gentle inspection. "I'm not dying."

"That's the opposite of what you said earlier today. Are you sure you don't want—"

His hands closed firmly around your wrists, tugging you off gently before you could finish speaking. "It's really not that bad.”

You’d be more convinced if he'd just told you about how miserable he was feeling.

"Is it a Lemurian condition?" You frowned up at him, taking note of how carefully he cradled your hands in his palms, stroking the insides of your wrists. "If it's making you feel awful, shouldn't we see someone about it?"

Rafayel tilted his head at you with a peculiar sort of fondness written across his features. It was difficult to identify what precisely made his smile curve upward into something distinctly knowing, yet warm — something infinitely affectionate yet impossible to quantify.

"Already doing that," he answered cryptically, tilting forward until he met your forehead with his own, nuzzling into the creased spot directly between your brows, eyelashes fluttering shut.

Ugh, this man.

"Do you know for a fact if you'll be okay?" you asked as delicately as possible without sounding too overbearing. That would definitely push Rafayel closer to defensive territory again and have him brush off any attempt at assistance, or even conversation, so you needed to walk the tightrope of concern while still keeping it mild enough for him not to clam up. "This trip still has a few more days left. What if you don't get better?"

The corner of his mouth twitched faintly with a ghost of a smile, perhaps pleased by your attentiveness —— "I enjoy this kind of concern."

—— which was starting to irritate you a little. "Well, I don't. Seeing you suffer and not doing anything isn't enjoyable."

He had the audacity to grin at that, broad enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes as he ducked his head coyly before turning it sharply to brush the tip of his nose against the shell of your ear and murmuring, "Not enjoying seeing me suffering does imply some enjoyment in seeing me otherwise."

"Rafayel!" You snapped finally, jerking out of his embrace with exasperated incredulity, only to meet an unrepentant smile waiting for you beyond your escape. He wasn't deterred whatsoever, which was a little unnerving.

Or rather, the rapid shift to your own pent-up restlessness was about to become in the next two days.

The limbo between then and the memorial hall day unfolded in a whirlwind of contradictions, each more puzzling than the last — starting from the abrupt ending to your interlude in front of the window, where he suddenly pulled back without any warning at all, leaving you cold and stunned with the excuse that he wanted to go to sleep, subsequently kicking you out of his hotel room as if possessed by a demonic force capable of inducing selective amnesia.

Like he wasn’t asking to fold you in half like a laptop mere moments ago.

The result was you forcing mandatory house rest until the day of the memorial hall visit came, settling awkwardly between coddling and hovering — a weird blend of fussing over his health like a mother hen and trying desperately not to make him feel infantilized as a result of said fussing.

All of that only ended with him either clinging close or deliberately distancing himself in confusing waves that seemed to occur at random intervals with little rhyme or reason.

It was simultaneously bewildering and heartbreaking. You had no idea how to react when he gave you zero insight into his thoughts and behaviors unless coaxed open, and even then, his answers were cryptic.

(So much for enjoying your concern.)

Really, this was your fault.

Maybe you shouldn't have pushed. But you worried.

Especially when he was dismissive like that despite being openly going through something other than a fever and a creative block, made worse by his inability to leave the hotel due to the hostile environment. Both of which you could do nothing to help with.

He would sit at the edge of the bed, his sketchbook propped open but untouched, pencil hovering above the page as though waiting for some divine spark that refused to come. At times, he’d stand by the window, reminding you of a cat sitting by its food dish for its owner to fill it with dinner, paw swiping irritatingly at its empty confines. Then, just as abruptly, he’d abandon his spot to sprawl across your lap instead while you were busy with paperwork online, one arm draped loosely over his stomach as he stared blankly at the ceiling in defeat, and demanding you play with his hair.

Then, some time later, it was back to deciding being near you was unbearable, pulling away entirely whenever you reached out for reassurance, no matter how casual or friendly your intentions, retreating back into his personal bubble to focus on attempting to get something on paper mindlessly, pages fluttering with restless action, crumpling here and there under the rough treatment before being smoothed out hastily.

The cycle continued nonstop. Restlessness, fatigue, clinginess, building you up while you didn't let it show because time and place, solitude, then back again — you never knew what Rafayel's whimsies were going to bring, and the uncertainty of it wore you thin, fraying your already wan nerves.

The humidifier was a desperate, last-ditch effort, the kind born out of sheer frustration and the kind of exhaustion that makes rationality optional.

You’d bought it from a small local shop at the crack of dawn, spurred on by the memory of walking into Rafayel’s suite only hours before, where he’d bullied the hotel staff into delivering two oversized sacks of ice — each roughly the size of a small child — and ordered them to be dumped unceremoniously into his bathtub.

At 3 AM. In the dead of night.

By the time you returned and set it up, the machine had barely begun spitting out its first gentle stream of cool mist before Rafayel sat down beside it, legs folded beneath him like a solemn monk meditating in front of some sacred relic. His quiet intensity as he stared at the thing made you wonder if he was grateful, resentful, or some combination of both — because with Rafayel, it was never as simple as one emotion at a time.

Still, the day turned out to be noticeably easier on him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, the worst had passed.

He still looked like death warmed over, often pink on the face and worn, but at least he wasn’t on the brink of staging another late-night ice-bag heist.

He even tolerated your awkward attempts to distract him, accepting your offerings of snacks, endless glasses of ice water, iced tea, whatever cold beverages you could scrounge up, and a marathon of that one TV show the two of you had been meaning to watch together.

And, of course, there was the doting.

So much doting.

Which was rare for you.

You were not, by any stretch of the imagination, the kind of person who showered people with attention. You weren’t the mom friend. You didn’t hover. But something about Rafayel in this state, rightfully whiny, subdued, far too fragile for your liking, made you want to roll him over in bubble wrap and shove him in your pocket to keep him safe from everything.

In some ways, you were more anxious than he was.

The helplessness swung at you like you were a tree and it was an axe, the inability to snap your fingers and fix him, to just make it better was torture. Worrying felt inevitable, but useless. And the not knowing what to do with yourself in between bouts of fretting? That was worse. Still, he wasn’t showing any signs of further deterioration, which felt like a victory you didn’t want to jinx.

You were so relieved you briefly considered leaving all your savings to the shop clerk who’d sold you the overpriced humidifier. She had probably thought you’d lost your mind, judging by the way you thanked her like she’d just handed you a ticket to salvation, practically singing her praises as she rang up your purchase. And honestly, if you could go back in time, you would’ve thanked her even more profusely.

Because it worked. Rafayel was better — well, better-ish. Better enough that you decided it was safe to move forward with the plan to visit the memorial hall.

Which, eventually, became a visit to the ocean.

An ocean.

In the middle of a desert.

The sheer impossibility of it left you breathless, like you were standing at the edge of a fever dream made real. The water stretched out endlessly, shimmering beneath the brutal sun, and you couldn’t stop marveling at the sheer absurdity of it — a body of water so vast, so alive, nestled in a place it had no right to be. It felt like a miracle.

It was a miracle.

And just when you thought the desert couldn’t surprise you further, the skies proved you wrong soon enough later, crowning the experience with snowfall at the end of the trip. Snow, delicate and silent, drifting from the sky like a benediction.

You couldn’t help but marvel at it all — at how the world had managed to gift you two impossibilities in the span of a single day. It felt like the desert itself was defying logic, bending over backward to offer something beautiful, something extraordinary, as though it wanted to prove it wasn’t all hardship and sunburnt misery.

But Rafayel stood by the edge of the ocean with a look that made your chest ache — a look that spoke not of wonder, but of mourning. To you, it was a miracle, but to him, it was a tragedy: a dying ocean trapped in a place it could no longer thrive, its very existence a reminder of something slipping away. An everlasting eulogy engraved into reality.

He didn’t look away from the canvas of pain he had set up and started painting for himself until you voiced all of what you thought out loud for him to see.

And this time, you truly felt like you had broken through — like you’d reached him in a way that mattered.

It was there, in that rare, fragile moment, that Rafayel dove straight through your hesitation, sidestepping the awkward pauses you were fumbling with, and pulled you into an embrace before you even had the courage to ask if you could. It was as though he had heard the unspoken thought aloud, plucking it out of the air with startling precision.

And then he’d confessed — softly, almost too softly — that at the time, he had wanted to come here before, with the most important person in his life.

Those words lodged themselves in your chest, a bittersweet ache blooming alongside the unmistakable joy bubbling up within you. You hugged him back as tightly as you could, pouring all the gratitude you didn’t know how to put into words into that one simple gesture. Gratitude for trusting you enough to share that. Gratitude for showing you yet another new side of himself, something unguarded and rare. A treat, indeed, one you hadn’t expected but cherished all the same.

Relief flooded through you, so potent it felt like a physical weight lifting from your shoulders. You hadn’t even realized how tense you’d been until that moment. Your body relaxed, and with that relaxation came fatigue, the kind that crept up on you and left no room for resistance. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep during the entire way back, lulled into a rare sense of peace you hadn’t felt in days.

And yet.

Like clockwork, he withdrew the instant you arrived back at the hotel.

Rafayel never thought he’d truly understand what it meant to drown.

As a creature of the sea, he wasn't meant to in the first place.

Not until you.

The realization had hit him like a storm breaking over still waters — not all at once, but in slow, rumbling waves that built. He didn’t even feel himself breaking; it was more like a slow erosion, the kind that wears stone into sand. Quiet, but irreversible. Your optimism. Your touches. Your encouragement. Inching in and in and in one step at a time.

(It was snowing in the desert.)

He had been holding himself together in the driver's seat, hands knotted around the steering wheel and knuckles bloodless with how tightly he gripped. Every inch of him vibrated with anxiety, away from where you lay fast asleep beside him, breathing shallow and uneven like he was afraid of exhaling too loudly. But there you were, oblivious, asleep, your head leaning softly against the window as if his world hadn’t collapsed in on itself.

(It was snowing in the desert.)

It wasn’t the desert heat that was killing him, though it might as well have been. (Everything about this place grated against him — the air, the dry scrape of his skin, the silence of the fading ocean that was too vast to be comforting. Too big. Too empty. Fading. Fading. A warning from cities away that this land was no place for a creature like him.) He wasn’t meant for this — for the cracked earth and the relentless sun and the suffocating absence of water. His body ached for moisture, for the cool, familiar embrace of the sea, but it ached even more for you. (He didn’t even realize how long he had been watching you from the corner of his peripheral vision — how long he had been unraveling, thread by thread.)

You’d tilted his world off its axis, turned everything he thought he knew into something unrecognizable. Once, pain had been his anchor. It was always there—constant, unyielding, something he could hold on to when nothing else made sense. It had driven him, fueled him, given him purpose when nothing else could. He had sought it out like a man dying of thirst seeks a mirage, and it had never failed him. Pain was constant. Pain was reliable. Pain was everything. Inside. Outside. It was all he had ever known, and it had kept him alive — fed the anger that gnashed his insides with teeth and claws, soothed the beast that prowled just under his skin, tempered the instinct that drove him relentlessly onward. Toward destruction. Towards home.

He had used it as a shield, as armor, as the whip he wielded against those who dared to clip the tails of his people. A weapon. A tool. A brush.

And then there was you (who he'd willingly sought out, angry and grieving and resentful and hurt.)

You, who didn’t fit into his carefully crafted world of suffering and art and revenge. You, who had made him forget (as easily as you forgot him) what it felt like to hurt, to ache, to yearn for something greater than himself. To hate. To see others bleed while his fingers flew across canvas after canvas, leaving only beauty in their wake — only soaring wings, only gleaming scales, only flowing water, only living fire, only reaching skies, only rushing wind, only rising floods...

Only you.

(It was snowing in the desert.)

Except now, he did yearn. He yearned in a way that was foreign and unbearable, in a way that felt like drowning — not in water, but in light, in warmth, in the overwhelming weight of wanting something too much. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he wanted you this much — needed you this much — when he didn’t even know who he was without all the hurt and hatred inside. It wasn’t fair that he felt something hot and ugly churning under his skin whenever you smiled up at him in admiration, filling his stomach with lead until he thought he might collapse beneath its heaviness. It wasn't fair that there were times when he thought it might actually be better not to have met you again at all.

(That thought filled him with dread so immense it threatened to crush the breath from his lungs; the possibility of having spent his entire life stumbling aimlessly through darkness towards a destination he was no longer sure even existed — )

He watched you sleep, the rhythm of your breathing steady and unbothered.

His gaze lingered on your hands, resting loosely in your lap, fingers twitching faintly as if even in sleep, you were reaching for something. (Reaching for him?) He wanted to take them in his own, to press them to his lips, to hold on so tightly he’d never have to let go. But he couldn’t. (He wouldn’t.)

Because the moment he did, he knew he’d lose whatever fragile standing he had left.

(“Isn’t it a surprise that there’s an ocean in the desert?”)

His thoughts spiraled, looping back on themselves in a tangle of contradictions that refused to resolve; questions without answers, fears without resolutions. What had he become, to need you like this? To depend on you like this? To depend on you so completely that even the idea of your absence felt like the loss of something vital — something essential — an emptiness he wasn't prepared to face.

(What must you think of him? Did you even know what you did to him? What would you think of him?)

He had told himself he could manage it, that he could stay close enough to feel your warmth but far enough not to burn. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? He was already burning. He had been burning since the moment he met you. An addictive pain — the kind that made him ache for more even as it seared him from the inside out.

And before he knew it, the car was parked beside the hotel entrance around the far corner of the garden, and Rafayel didn’t remember driving there at all.

He blinked, confused for a moment as to how exactly he had managed to pilot the vehicle, when you stirred quietly in the passenger seat, drawing his attention like a moth to flame.

You groaned softly, eyelids fluttering, but remained firmly locked within slumber's grip as he unbuckled your seatbelt for you, as gently as if he were handling fine china. Your head leaned sideways against the headrest and faced him, slack and soft with sleep. His fingers twitched around the plastic buckle, curling into a fist until he thought they might cramp under the strain.

He leaned forward, forehead coming to contact with the cool leather surface of the steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut tight enough to blot out your presence entirely.

There was too much to process — too many feelings, thoughts, sensations threatening to overwhelm him if he looked directly at them, instead swirling through his head like debris caught in a vortex, invisible yet disorienting nonetheless.

But they all blipped out of existence the moment he turned his head around, following the impulse to look.

(“Isn’t it a surprise that there’s an ocean in the desert?”)

The urge struck Rafayel with all the force of a lightning bolt — bright, sudden, unavoidable — and suddenly the knuckles of his fingers were sliding across your cheek, feather-light in gentle arcs along the arch of your cheek, savoring every inch of satin flesh as it shifted beneath his caress.

The sensation of touch buzzed pleasantly underneath his skin previously starved, reveling in the sweetness of contact after so many days of withdrawal.

The artificial light coming from outside bathed your sleeping form in a glow that cascaded like a gentle waterfall, chiaroscuro shadows casting angles upon your features, emphasizing every line and curve, and for a long time, all he could do was stare. He could feel your breath against the tips of his nails, warm puffs of moist exhales against his calloused flesh, and found himself fixating on the gentle undulation of your chest as you breathed — unconsciously, mindlessly unaware of what such a simple act did to him.

The memory of your voice echoed in his mind, soft and certain, cutting through the chaos like a beam of light.

"Isn’t it a surprise that there’s an ocean in the desert?"

You had a way of reframing everything, of taking the pieces of his broken world and rearranging them into something that almost looked like hope. (He hated it. He loved it. He hated that he loved it.) It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You hadn’t asked to become such an integral part of his existence — so intrinsic and fundamental and irreplaceable. Yet somehow, here you were. Here he was. The absence of water, the grief of it. The grief of what it meant to lose something so essential, so intrinsic, that one didn’t know how to live without it. And that grief had found a new home in you. You, who had become his ocean, his escape, the source of every ache in his chest and joy in his heart.

(Isn't it a surprise that there's an ocean in the desert? Isn't it a surprise you're the muse calling to him and not the muffled, fading cries of the dying ocean in pain, not the skeletal remains of an era he'd never get back?)

He gazed, and gazed, and gazed, drinking you in like a thirsty man lost in a sea of golden sands, watching the subtle play of lights over the curves of your face — the delicate angle of your chin, the arch of your nose, the graceful slope of your neck as it curved into collarbone and shoulder — memorizing every detail he could, without the pressure of having to wrench himself back before he drowned in your wake, without the need to pretend to your face he was anything less than desperate to be with you all day, every day, in every way possible. And that the sound of your voice in his ears was enough to get the paintbrush running across paper from the sheer momentum of his imagination.

But he couldn't keep going like this.

Somehow, somewhen, between the start of your journey and now, this thing had begun shifting irrevocably past his ability to contain it any longer. Had grown exponentially until it seemed to dwarf his capacity to handle it. All it would take was being away from you for a mere few hours to bring him to a level of misery that was honestly embarrassing.

And you had no idea.

No idea that orbiting around him in these past few days like a second moon had only served to exacerbate the foul joy of watching you fawn over him.

It made him sick to his stomach to admit it, but soaking in the knowledge (in his soul, through the bond) that you cared so deeply for him went straight to his head like some drug he hadn't realized he needed.

It felt so despairingly good that he would wrap himself around you like a vine climbing towards sunlight if he could for the rest of his days, absorbing your rays of affection like photosynthesis... or a parasite.

(Was he being punished by the sea that this love was eclipsing his fury and vengeance? Or rewarded that he held both equally in his grasp despite how terribly wrong it felt at times? Regardless, his inspiration was the punchline, once only capable of singing into the canvas elegies of lament and sorrow, now composed ballads and odes that poured out effortlessly.)

You would hate him if you ever found out just how perversely his emotions swung in every direction; so high one moment that the ecstasy of relief nearly shattered his reserve of control, and so low the next that he feared he'd choke to death from the guilt that clawed up the back of his throat like a strangled animal's cry for mercy.

This entire ordeal had flipped the script completely — instead of keeping you at arm's length as he normally did (regarding… everything), Rafayel now clung onto you desperately like Tantalus to a branch of fruit he’d finally gotten a grasp of, and what if he was exposed? The question rose like bile in his mouth whenever he began slipping.

“I won't leave you.”

Liar, his grudge wanted to answer.

It remembered. It never forgot. It told him you'd flee and never look back if he let a sliver of this dependency that bound him tighter to you with each passing day slip out from his fingertips — if he allowed you even the tiniest insight into the strange workings of his head and his heart.

Because you didn’t understand. You couldn’t. You had no idea what you were talking about when you told him you wouldn’t leave. How could you, when you didn’t know the depths of what you were promising to stay for? You didn’t know the true nature of Lemurian love, its ferocity, its weight, its cost. The all-consuming, all-encompassing reality of it — how they loved as if it was the only thing tethering them to existence itself. How they lived for it, how they died for it. How he had been dying for it.

If you saw it — if you saw him — you would run. He knew you would. Because if he laid bare just how much he depended on you, how much of his breath, his will, his very being hinged on you, you’d be overwhelmed. You’d leave.

Why else would he be tearing himself apart like this? Miserably trying to wean himself off you, forcing himself to let go only to grasp harder each time he felt you’d finally come to hate him and slip away?

He didn't know how long he sat there in silence.

Just a bit longer, he would keep watching you with these feelings out in the open. Just a little bit longer. He couldn’t bear to wake you up.

By the time you stirred, groggy and disoriented but blissfully unsuspecting, it felt as though several eternities had passed in the span of minutes, and he had to struggle with all the strength of a raging current to force himself back into this skin of his that felt too tight and suffocating around him.

But, still resting his temple against the steering wheel with an arm slung on top of it and another hanging lazily at his side, feigning ease, nothing betrayed his inner turmoil.

He watched quietly as you slowly regained your bearings, resisting the temptation to reach out and brush aside that one piece of hair out of place on your head, letting you find the words first.

(So adorable. So endearing.)

(It was not only snowing in his desert. There was also an ocean in there.)

"Rafayel..?"

"Yeah?"

"How long was I asleep?" You blinked at him blearily, one hand lifting to rub the lingering tiredness from your eyelids as you peer into the darkness of night beyond his silhouette. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Everything he'd been thinking about vaporized and left behind nothing but softness, so tender it scared him; it seeped into the spaces in his heart left vacant and curled inside them, filling every corner, until it made the next smile he offered you come free of burden. "You were sleeping so well, cutie. I didn't want to disturb you."

The unconscious put of your lips and the way that strand of hair bounced around when you slid down your seat a little had him leaning in before he knew what he was doing, smoothing the unruly thing, fingertips betraying him by skating across the outer edge of your ear while he watched you tilt your cheek instinctively.

His body warmed immediately, gravitating towards you in a half-hug that kept you cradled close to the side of his frame as he nuzzled into your hair above your temple with a hum, dipping his nose deeper into the crown of your head near where your neck curved gracefully upwards before inhaling deep — greedy, thirsty, like he’d die if he couldn’t seep up all the scent of you.

Your breathing hitched a bit, and that’s what halted him right at the corner of your mouth with a sharp exhale — he couldn’t be doing this, he was just thinking about how he needed to pull back and —

Art salon.

Yeah, the art salon gathering.

He was supposed to be on his way to there like yesterday.

If only his body didn’t move like a most willing pupped tethered by strings to yours and refused to walk away whenever he tried.

“…Rafayel?”

It suddenly hotter in this car like a tide pool at noon. So stiflingly hot he was breathing fire even with the snowy weather outside. So unbearable the deepest V-cut known to mankind that had his whole chest out for the world to ogle did nothing to help.

He could… He could skip.

Yeah, he needed this. It had been literal days of non-stop withdrawal and a push-and-pull of his frustration that you wouldn’t touch him (because oh noo, he was sick — which, he wasn’t!) and stubbornness to not let you touch him. He’d gotten to a point that he was drunk off your scent alone and he couldn’t keep doing this forever, and why should he? Why did it matter about this event at all? Who cared — who cared about some stupid gathering? He wasn’t functioning anyways until he—

Stop. He had to stop. He was already so late.

He imagined catching himself by the scruff of his neck and yanking himself back to the driver's seat, within safe borders. Far away from your mesmerizing lips and wandering eyes and cute squirming in your seat under the thin cover of innocence.

And pulling away and practically fusing with the car door was exactly what he did.

He needed to prove to himself, just this once, that he could function without the constant reassurance of your presence — that he wasn’t helplessly anchored to you, no matter how much the pull of your moon whispered otherwise.

He had to dilute himself. This — and his inspiration problem, involving you or not, was his to figure out. And he had to figure it out if he wanted you to stay by his side.

"...Do you wanna go back to your room first?" he heard himself ask you quietly.

"You're not coming with me?" The tiny furrow of worry between your brows spoke volumes about your confusion, and despite wanting to reach out and smooth it away, to wipe every ounce of uncertainty from your face with a tender kiss, Rafayel clenched his fingers around the door handle of the vehicle until they cramped, his heart aching strangely inside his chest as you stared quizzically at him.

He brought out the invitation that came with the memorial hall ticket, waving it a little with little to no enthusiasm, "I still have to attend my friend's art salon thing."

The way your shoulders deflated and face dropped at the mention made him waver in — not enough to follow through with ditching the whole thing, but certainly making his resolve weak enough to crack like glass under pressure. "But you don't look well. You need to rest."

How could someone manage to resist getting spoiled like this, he thought miserably as he closed his eyes while you continued fussing, peering worriedly up into his face with the cutest scrunch to your forehead, palms searching along his cheeks heat before trailing down the length of his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to give in to that impulse of being coddled to bits by your hands alone.

He was a weak man.

You nearly lifted off the passenger seat and fell into his lap the way he embraced you, his arms coiling around you like kelp around a rock, holding fast as though you might slip away with the wind. His face buried into the crook of your neck, breath warm and uneven against your skin, his grip snug yet teetering on the edge of too much — like he didn’t trust himself to let go. There was a desperation in the way his hands trembled slightly, his fingers pressing into your sides, not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave the faintest impression of how badly he needed this. When your pained whine broke through, it was like snapping a thread, he instantly loosened his hold, guilt washing over his features as he pulled back just enough to make room for you to breathe. But he stayed close, his forehead dipping to rest against your shoulder as a heavy sigh rumbled deep from his chest, raw and apologetic. You leaned heavily into him, your fingers threading into his hair in a gesture that should have comforted him, but instead left him drowning deeper in the tangled sea of his emotions.

"See? You're burning up again," you mumbled as your cool lips grazed his temple in a comforting kiss. He was no better than a child. He knew it. And he hated how much he basked in your coddling, reveled in the unspoken message behind your words: Don't hide it. Tell me when you hurt. I care. "Maybe we can go together? Will you feel okay if I'm there?"

He would. He would feel more than okay, because that's what made him function.

But he couldn't keep being like this.

"Do you wanna turn me into a sea creature beached on the sand after the ocean recedes," he whispered, mostly kidding except not really, hiding in the dip of your neck just below your ear, hand tracing absent shapes into the small of your back above your tailbone. "Unable to breathe on my own, waiting helplessly for your tide's return?"

Your fingers stroking through his hair slowed, then stilled entirely at the edge of his nape. You pulled back only far enough to meet his lowered stare, confusion dancing within your own, bright and clear and genuine. You had no inkling of what was going on with him, and he didn’t want you to find out either. He would be fine. He was going to handle it.

"Don't you trust me?" Rafayel said. "How about we make a promise? I promise... I'll be okay without you tonight."

It hurt to lie to you so directly, but seeing your doubt dissolve to appease him helped soothe that sting considerably. (Even if it felt a little too convenient to rely on such flimsy methods.) You nodded, seeming convinced in spite of yourself, and his stance firmed — strengthened with your faith and affirmation alike, like he'd just taken a double shot of espresso. He would be okay. He wasn't going to keep imposing his feelings upon you even if a part of him desperately yearned to, no matter how difficult the prospect seemed.

(Say no, a small part of him whispered traitorously, selfishly, insistently. Ask me to stay. You know I can't say no to you, he wanted to plead. Needed to be affirmed once more, reassured that he was welcome to indulge, to remain, to lean into the comfort you offered freely.)

"Okay..." you echoed uncertainly, but gave him another soft smile — tentative yet warm, gentle encouragement. He watched quietly as your expressions shifted in quick succession, cycling through shades of hesitation and worry before settling on resignation. You nodded again, firmer this time, seemingly steeling yourself against whatever doubts you harbored. He wanted to kiss it all away.

But instead, he gently pushed you back, sinking further into his seat, looking out the view beyond the windshield to gather his wits against the force that was your presence beside him.

"You can head back," he repeated, not turning to meet your searching stare. "I can handle it."

The art salon had an air of cultivated elegance, grandiosity reflecting into soaring ceilings and walls adorned with curated artworks, with conversations floating in fragmented pieces, the occasional laughter punctuating the steady hum of "cultured" discourse — all the while Rafayel stood at the periphery, his posture consciously maintained with the kind of deliberate nonchalance that masked a profound discomfort, one hand buried in his pant pockets and the other holding a flute glass of champagne, ghosting the suffocating room with an expression of aloof disdain, attention drifting from painting to painting without ever settling. Humans circled him like murmuring specters, their faces a study in muted curiosity and empty civility. He loathed their presence. (Yet, here he was.)

The room's overwhelming sensory overload grated against his composure — cloying mingling of varnish and wine, sharply polished sheen of curated lighting, artifice of smiles that never reached their eyes...

He should leave. (No, he had to stay.)

The dichotomy was a pendulum swinging between contempt and an unspoken compulsion to endure. He’d insisted he didn’t need you here, insisted on proving — to himself as much as to you — that he could function without your constant presence. But the more he replayed his own words in his mind, the more it was obvious the joke was on him.

He rolled his eyes as an overly enthusiastic laugh erupted nearby, a sound sharp enough to pinprick through his already thinning out patience. His hand twitched in his pocket, the movement a reflexive manifestation of his barely-contained frustration.

(Focus.)

The art, exquisite as it was, did little to distract him as the chatter blurred into a meaningless drone, the edges of the room constricting him under the weight of pretense.

And then. The tug.

At first, it was delicate — an unsuspecting tremor sifting through his awareness, like the faintest ripple across an otherwise still surface that he thought he was imagining and hoping this was you. But it swelled rapidly, a deluge of sensations sweeping him off his feet towards your pull with a force that left his breath stuttering and the floor wavering beneath, erupting into vivid, agonizing clarity.

His lips tingled, a ghostly imprint of a kiss not yet given.

Heat bloomed under his skin, first at the base of his throat, spreading like a slow, insidious current. The faintest pressure, then, at his collarbone, radiating outward, like silk dragging over sensitive skin, a tingling warmth that prickled and spread, until it seemed to rewrite the very contours of his form, leaving him trembling with phantom caresses that lingered far too long to ignore.

He could feel the press of your palms against his chest, the drag of your nails over the planes of his stomach, each sensation so precise it made his breath catch, and the ache in his hands mirrored the way you gripped at yourself. Every brush of your hand — every hurried, seeking stroke — burned through him like smoldering embers, and he swore he could hear the faintest hitch of your breath, feel the tremor in your thighs.

A siren song of need that echoed his own, calling him under, drowning him in you.

Come to me, come to me, stay with me.

His breath hitched with the oxygen turning into lava-hot needle prickling in his lungs, his legs going limp as noodles and giving way. He collapsed into the nearest chair with a jarring lack of control, the motion abrupt, almost violent.

One hand clamped onto the edge of the table as he hastily discarded the champagne glass to cover where the bond was glowing, fingers digging into the wood as if it were the only thing keeping him from being swept away.

A single candle at the table’s center responded instead of Rafayel, its once languid, uninterested flame quivering violently, and then erupting into an erratic flare, a burst of light so sharp and sudden it cut through the room like a gasp. The activity drew murmurs from those nearby, heads turning, eyes widening as the flame seemed to writhe with a life of its own as wax spilled over the edges of its holder, dripping down in frantic rivulets, glistening like molten gold beneath the trembling glow.

"Hey, Rafayel, man, you good?"

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch violently and slap it away, the contact snapping him partway out of his spiraling thoughts. "Don't."

He was already rising, the chair scraping noisily against the floor as he pushed himself upright with a force that bordered on frenetic. The friend stood as well, confusion clear, but Rafayel didn’t wait to explain — with a curt shake of his head, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit, leaving the other man standing there with his hand half-raised, a bewildered, "Hey, where are you going, come back!" hanging unanswered in the air.

The murmurs of those left behind — curious stares, the faint scrape of chairs and clothes ruffling — faded into irrelevance, they barely even registered. The bond burned like a tether, yanking him back to you, and he had neither the strength nor the desire to disobey.

By the time he reached the cool air of the night outside, he was seething. He had heard you loud and clear.

You merciless, cruel, horrible witch of a woman, punishing him with your sweet truth in an act so loving yet selfish, selfless yet entirely possessive, driving him completely to his wit's end until the only remaining thought was yours — to worship you wholly, thoroughly, obsessively, as deeply as he wanted.

He was in love.

You were in Rafayel’s room.

Because for his sanity to be tested like you intended it would be, of course you had to be in there of all places.

He was able to crash in the way he wanted like a dam bursting without knocking holding him back. In fact, he didn’t even bother calling out at all.

And honestly, he wasn’t even lucid enough for coherent thoughts such as those the moment his vision tunneled on your frame in the middle of his space, your back turned to him, an unaware and unintentional siren in a fluffy white robe loosely tied at your hips.

His robe.

Rafayel was moving before he registered the full picture — prowling the distance between you within seconds, hand snatching up yours and spinning you around. Just being this close and touching you uninhibited got the synapses firing faster than bullets in his head. He pushed forward into your space with no preamble, crowding you against the floor-to-ceiling window. He spared another two or three precious seconds taking in your startled expression with vindication (“Rafayel, what are you doing here?” before putting a stop to all the unnecessary talking with a kiss.

How could he expected himself to stay away from this?

One knee pushed between your thighs, a subtle but undeniable acknowledgment of what he’d felt, and you faltered, clutching the sides of his shirt so abruptly the lily decorations peppered through out clinked. A quiet noise escaped past your lips, muffled by his own and intensifying the building pressure simmering in his gut as he played with the collar of your robe — his robe — and drank greedily from you.

He felt a push at his chest.

The separation between you that couldn’t be more than a tight space to breathe each other’s air brought the world rushing back into focus — Aridum’s quiet, serene snowfall materialized behind your head like a mockery of their frenzied tangle of limbs, the ambient sounds of the city bustling in the distance dampened.

Your eyes searched his, glazed and hazy with steadily-building arousal, yet waiting nonetheless for an answer, shiny lips parted in wordless wonder.

Rafayel could say nothing. The words were there, soda fizz under the surface threatening to erupt into something incomprehensible at best if he opened his mouth.

His palm engulfed your cheek and drew you right back in, continuing the kiss with more urgency to prevent you from tumbling out from his grasp again — let the action speak for him.

The need that thrummed deep beneath rendered him mute, save for strained sighs and grunts of effort louder than the rustle of fabric and the thuds of feet shuffling around on the floor as he plundered your mouth, tongue chasing yours. It tasted like toothpaste and chapstick, like fresh mint leaves, like nurturing warmth cooling his into something calmer.

Rafayel’s hand left your face and slid down your back to seize your waist, dragging you closer, flushing your hips against his firmer and pushing his thigh more brashly. Not even a second later, his other hand bracing your wrist against the window pulled your arm into him to spin you around like in a dance, switching positions without breaking away.

And you bit him.

He recoiled with an “Ah,” that was more surprised than pained, drawing away just enough to swipe his thumb over the curve of his bottom lip where your teeth had punctured him.

“Why are you here?”

Something rotten and vicious was about to bare his fangs at you through a smile he barely stopped from telling on himself by holding back, ‘You called,’ from slipping.

The other, more acceptable answer came in a quick and effortless sweep of your legs off the floor, draping them over either side of his waist, one palm supporting you underneath like the cradle of a hammock as he pivoted towards the bed. “This is my room,” he said — low, simple, keeping eye contact to witness your frustration. “You’re the one who walked in here.”

He saw in the curl of your mouth that you would’ve continued arguing semantics if not for Rafayel bending to deposit you gently atop the bed for you to settle safely beneath him. The mattress creaked under his shifting as he eased further and started descending to resume getting lost in your kisses until a finger landed upon his lips.

“What I meant was,” you started, and Rafayel exhaled against your touch and nuzzled into it like an obedient pet coming to heel with a lowered tail before his master. “Shouldn’t you be at that art salon?”

He stared, blood about to keel over the boiling point.

His beloved was pouting. So adorable that he wanted to bite down.

You’d been so patient with him, hadn’t you? The little divot between your brows called out to Rafayel, begging to be kissed.

“I regret going in the first place,” he said, getting closer to breathe those words directly against the curve of your ear, savoring its delicate shell and the heat emanating from it against his lower lip — basking in the short tremble he could pull out of you that told him all he needed to know. “Stay here with me—”

His arm dipped around your waist and tugged you insistently closer, shakily eager, while your hands scrambled at his biceps, the side of your neck stretching upward to meet his halfway and melting further into him like candle wax molding against Rafayel and pooling liquid sweetness inside him like a basin filled.

Ring — ring — ring — ring — ring — ring — ring!

What the hell? Now?

A surge of irrational anger flared inside Rafayel, sharp and sudden, as if the hotel room phone had personally wronged him so bone-deep that his ancestors themselves had been insulted by its shrill, untimely ring. He clicked his tongue sharply against the roof of his mouth, a frustrated noise brimming with disdain as he reached out with the intention of silencing the nuisance immediately.

But before his hand could reach the red button, your fingers curled gently around his wrist, halting him mid-motion. The touch was soft, warm, and unassuming, yet it cut through his irritation more effectively than words ever could. His breath hitched as he glanced down at your hand, stilling under the quiet weight of what you were going to say next.

“Wait,” your dulcet murmur came. “What if it’s something important?”

More than this?

The irritation got you a side eye for that — but he quickly caught onto where this was heading from the way you gave him a pointed, sultry glance under your lashes and the faintest devilish curl at the corners at your lips. The grip around his wrist turned into your fingers interlacing with his as you guided him to accept the call, holding his gaze so intensely throughout that the beginning of the reception’s announcement went unheard in his ears.

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message."

Rafayel hadn’t even found a chance to breathe, let alone process what was even happening when you pushed him off and knocked him flat onto his back, straddling his hips with surprising speed which elicited an involuntary jolt from him.

He froze, breath caught somewhere between his lungs and the thick, burning, moistureless air that was overheating him. A thousand words tumbled in a rush into his mouth at once, all died under his breath in a sigh as his senses swam and short-circuited in response to your boldness, the sheer power radiating off your figure captivating him. For a single, stretched heartbeat, all he could do was look up — look at you.

The light from the ceiling framed your form in a way that bordered on divine, spilling past the loose strands of hair that fell around your face and catching on the curves of your silhouette like a lover's caress. Shadows slithered around you, dipping into the soft folds and valleys of the bathrobe that clung to you in all the places his gaze couldn’t help but follow.

And then the vision struck, slicing through his mind like a blade dragged cleanly through water.

No, you brought it to him, conjuring it as surely as though you had whispered it directly into his mind.

The blues wouldn’t just be blues — shadowy cobalt would bleed into the depths below, heavy and still, fading into fractured glacier blue as the water grew lighter near the surface, where the sun struggled to break through. The greens would soften into glassy jade, shimmering faintly, caught in the shifting light as if the water itself pulsed with life. Shadows would stretch in drenched charcoal, not oppressive but endless, framing the brightness above almost like curtains opening.

And there, close to the surface, you would hover like the sun underwater, light spilling from you in ripples and shards. Your form would glow with submerged gold, warm and radiant, a halo of sunlit pearl surrounding you where the sunlight hit the water and scattered around your silhouette. You wouldn’t simply stand still — you would drift, your movements impossibly fluid, arms outstretched in a gesture that could be comfort or inevitability, a quiet invitation to a homecoming. Shadows would gather around your curves in bruised honey, soft and subtle, fading into the glow that surrounded you, the kind of light that looked almost too warm to belong in the cold ocean.

The person who the painting was drawn from the perspective of would see you not as a person, but as something greater. His arms would float above him, slack and surrendered, the only movement from his fingers angled upwards, glowing faintly with washed ash gold, the last vestiges of warmth clinging to his skin, while the rest of his form darkened in the embrace of storm-drift gray. Faraway air bubbles would be glacier silver-blue catching the warm light as they ascended toward the unreachable surface, reflections flickering like distant stars against the background of salt-shadow teal.

This was a homecoming.

The bursting of colors landing on his imaginary canvas came to a head when the branding heat of your mouth found his ear, screeching into stuttered motion and scattering like seagulls afterwards. His head lolled sideways under the zapping pressure, inviting more of the world-halting caress that left him all limp.

Then it was gone — only a cool tingling remained where yout moist breaths once ghosted him —

"Hey bro, why'dya leave? Get back here—"

Shocked as if he had short time memory about it being a voice message, he squirmed for a beat, eyes flitting in panic between the call display and you with the mortification of every single drop of blood in his body rushing southwards.

His friend’s voice fractured into static buzzing under the pounding of his ears when you bowed forward once more, towards the red mark on top of his mark that was practically vibrating under his skin, trailing kisses across its glow. Every skin contact point with you burned even with the layers of clothing in-between, melting into an acute throb as you reached the base of his throat and dipped into the hollow between his collarbones — fingers dancing along the strip of his neckpiece before delving underneath, dragging down and delicately, deliciously tugging.

That was all it took for Rafayel to flip your positing and roll you beneath his body, propping himself up with one forarm and holding your wrist to just — stop you for a minute, expression tight as he asked, “Are you sure?”

Your intentions were crystal clear, but it was necessary to check in before continuing any further even though he needed this like air right now, and the prospect of hearing it straight from your lips that he was wanted —

Looking somewhere off to the side, you replied, “Otherwise you’ll actually go back,” thoughtfully, but there was something resentful in there, the statement almost bitter sounding in its delivery.

The overjoyed press of his lips to hide the smile he just knew would annoy you betrayed what he was thinking on the spot.

“So cute,” breached containment however, full of affection as he moved aside your hair behind your ear tenderly, fore and middle fingers taking your love’s sensitive edge between them and caressing, causing you to turn your face further away from him. “You must have missed me quite a lot.”

That sentence was accompanied by the press of his knee into the junction between your inner thighs, innocent enough unless you factored in that one certain revelation of earlier that entirely changed the context in intent. Especially when your pupils dilated visibly before him as you choked out a tiny gasp of surprise, revealing your guilt in glaring clarity.

“What, not pleased you got caught?”

A wicked impulse seized him — one daring him to keep playing this card to unlock so many possibilities as to how he could have you tonight.

He could have you show him what you’d done while he watched until you begged to be touched — on your back with legs wide open for his viewing pleasure, or hovering right above his face in 4K Ultra HD quality that he could just lay down and enjoy and perhaps contribute with his breath if he felt generous enough. You were having fun all on your own, yeah? He just wanted in on it. Not knowing wasn’t a sin, but not learning was.

If you didn’t think you were ready to bear the consequences of this decision of yours, you should have rethought before choosing the room he frequented, shouldn’t have turned him into a fish out of water in public by calling out to him like that, should have known better that Rafayel could be the vilest when he was provoked.

“Or, are you?”

His words were a double-edged knife. Pick the surface-level meaning and you ended up with him teasing you about missing him quite literally, nothing more, nothing less. Take him for what lay beneath, however...

Unfortunately, or, fortunately, you were one slippery fish.

"Why should I be ashamed?" The confidence that dripped from your reply rang genuine. You were so unbothered by his instigation that he realized this was going to be harder than expected, perhaps more rewarding as well. A delightful prospect. "Do you wish I wouldn't miss you?"

Oh, your pride, your grudge was truly an impressive sight —

gleaming razor-sharp even under scrutiny, glittering steel reflecting his image in fragments, and yet tempered by enough warmth to invite him closer instead of warding him off.

"Not at all." His heart sang. "But it couldn't compare to how much I missed you."

"And you still left," came a mumble, sounding more dejected than anything, carrying the weight of his deeds for the past two days.

It was that easy to change his mood.

Rafayel cooed instinctively, rubbing soothing circles into the skin above your knuckles as he pressed a string of quick kisses into the curve of your wrist — lips brushing tender apologies along its path until he reached the palm of your hand cupping his face, where he lingered to feel you stroke delicately over his lower lashes.

"I'm here now," was his gentle promise, one spoken nuzzled against the backs of your fingers. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What are you going to say to your friend? You didn't even pick up his call," you admonished softly, drawing his attention towards where the voicemail was still being displayed on the hologram screen hovering from the nightstand, accepting a prompt about how to proceed.

Rafayel made a show of leaning back to sit back on his heels, staring down at you as he slipped his fingers underneath the tightly-belted thick, sash-like band to pop the clasp to the side apart, the metal closure disengaging with a small clack as the ends slid free and exposed the zipper underneath.

He drank in your every reaction — every detail of you sprawled out before him: your robe coming undone ever so gradually, tantalizing glimpses of skin peeking between its parted folds, a little bit of collarbone here, the curve of your breast there, teasingly hinting at the shape of a nipple underneath the white fabric, then another flash of thigh, an exposed inch of inner leg from your feet shifting restlessly alongside his shins.

He pulled the whole belt free in one smooth yank — the sudden momentum making it snap with a harsh crack. It curled like a ribbon in his palm as he surveyed you, gauging your reaction; watching your widened stare catch onto cloth held loosely in his fist as he flung it haphazardly to the side.

Then, he started tugging at your ankle to raise it higher — dragging his knuckles along your heel, the sole of your foot, caressing into the arch of your instep, traveling along the softness of your calf all the way down to your knee, a single fingertip trailing underneath, slinking gradually but surely toward the inner side, tracing hypnotic spirals into the silky flesh that made your breathing hitch unevenly.

The ends of your robe were riding further up past your thigh along with the slow march, your naked skin revealed in gradual increments the higher his palm slid — revealing more and more until his hand stopped at the underside of your thigh, entirely disappeared from view because of the bunched up cloth, and pulled your leg up gently to drape it over the curve of waist.

Falling right back in on instinct, he leaned down, propped above your splayed form on his forearm beside your shoulder and bent to drag his nose upwards along the line of your cheekbone, saying, "I'm busy."

Your answering snicker was endearing and familiar, drawing forth a swell of warmth inside him like the sun rising over a tranquil ocean's horizon. "Still trying to run away?"

“Just returning to the original plan.”

There would be no running away now — not anymore, not ever, at least not from you and what you made him feel. He'd tried; failed, obviously, as evident in his return here, where the answer awaited him with open arms.

"Who says I'm going to agree? I still haven't forgiven you.”

Rafayel adored that one pout of yours, the one that curved at its edges like the swoop of a bird's wing, delicate and lovingly rounded in its downturned shape. It drew his mouth upward to meet its match, slotting perfectly against its twin seamlessly in the union of a kiss, lingering as if they belonged together like puzzle pieces. You melted sweetly under the fondness contained within the gesture, sighing quietly in surrender; every angle of his mouth was drawn to yours inexorably, it was gravity pulling falling stars back to their courses.

"Not yet," he amended dutifully once he could manage words again, and felt your smile widen before sealing his mouth over it. "Let me."

"If you beg," you shot right back, the curve of your mouth pronounced against his chin, smug satisfaction dripped from every word and its delivery as you pulled away again just enough to meet his half-hooded stare evenly — daring him to refuse you. "Properly."

You kissed the little groan that was about to spill past his lips, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Neither was it intended to.

"How would you like me to repent?" He dragged the question into an offer, a honey trap ripe for plundering. "On my knees? On my back?"

He let his arousal to show on his fact at those mental images, conjured by practiced ease, crafted to seduce. The soft puff of your exhale danced across his chin, sending his nerves tingling. A sign he was on the right track? Or did it merely betray surprise at whatyou had in mind? Either possibility stirred his blood.

"You know what someone in your position shouldn’t do?" you whispered, low and hushed, conspiratorial yet laced with a dangerous authority that quickened his pulse. His brows rose involuntarily, the shift in your tone sending anticipation skittering down his spine. Your lashes swept low, casting faint shadows on your cheeks as your pointed stare locked onto him, sharp enough to pierce. "Ask me what to do when you’re supposed to be coming up with ideas on your own. That’s weaponized incompetence."

His head snapped back so fast that something audibly clicked in his neck.

Mouth wide open.

"Weaponized in—" The sensual, submissive haze he’d been wrapped in evaporated like morning dew under the brutal heat of the desert sun, vanishing so quickly it left him sputtering. The words faltered on his tongue as insult overtook every carefully cultivated mood, his composure fracturing into clumsy indignation. Propped up on his elbows above you, his face twisted into a comically muddied mix of offense and disbelief, his tone taking on an incredulous sharpness as he glared down at you.

"Say that again and I’ll spit bubbles at you!" he snapped, his threat hanging in the air like a gauntlet thrown by a petulant prince.

"Pffft!"

The insolent brat you were being in that moment, daring to laugh straight in his face, was both impossibly cute and maddeningly infuriating. He stared down at you, eyes narrowing with mock offense, the knowledge that your laughter was entirely at his expense gnawing at his frayed patience. He was torn between kissing you senseless or flipping you over and finding some other way to wipe that smug, adorable smirk off your face.

"What do you mean weaponized incompetence?" Rafayel shot back, the words almost trembling with disbelief. "You think I can't please you properly without you guiding me through it step-by-step? Is that what you're saying?!" His irritation swelled, a balloon of indignation puffing up and threatening to burst as he fought, tooth and nail, to keep the whine rising in his throat from escaping. "I like you telling me what to do because I enjoy indulging in your desires! Not because I’m incapable of being creative in bed!"

A frustrated huff crowned his ranting, "Stop laughing!" he barked, though his rising pitch only seemed to add fuel to your uncontrollable amusement.

You shook your head firmly, slapping your hands over your face to muffle the sounds of your laughter, but it was no use. Your entire body curled inward instinctively, knees drawing up as you rolled to your side, burying yourself deeper into the cocoon of your mirth. It only made it worse for his pride — your stifled giggles shaking through you like tremors, every failed attempt to contain yourself sending them bubbling up again.

Rafayel let out a growl of frustration, throwing his body off yours with an exaggerated thud, landing face-first into the pillow beside you in utter defeat. The mattress jolted slightly from the force, but the muffled yell he buried into the pillow caused a chain reaction that only made your laughter harder to suppress. The giggles came fast and bright, and he swore they sounded far too gratifying for his current temperament, his scowl deepening with every shake of your shoulders and every wheezing gasp for air that he felt in the bed, he didn’t even need to look.

The fact that you were utterly immune to his wrath, impervious to every “Stop,” he threw your way, made it all the more maddening. How was he supposed to maintain the upper hand, to reestablish even a shred of dignity, when he couldn’t even intimidate you?

"I'm sorry," you gasped finally, though the apology was weakened by the cracks of laughter still slipping through. You managed to sit upright, though it took visible effort, your hands brushing away tears from the corners of your crinkled, joy-stricken eyes. A few lingering giggles escaped as you cleared your throat, attempting to sound sincere but failing miserably. "I didn’t think you’d have such strong feelings about this topic."

Rafayel lifted his head from the pillow, his hair disheveled, his glare shooting daggers your way, though the deep flush blooming across his cheeks betrayed his struggle to keep his composure. He opened his mouth to retort, to say something, but instead all that escaped was a muffled, irritated groan as he flopped back down into the pillow.

“Rafayel.”

He rolled onto his back with dramatic flair, hands folded primly over his stomach and ankles crossed, the picture of theatrical innocence. The pout he wore, however, was pure spite, lips pushed forward just enough to make his point. “If you think I’m sooo weaponizing my incompetence, maybe I should actually start doing that. Let you handle everything yourself. Clearly, you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Rafayel…”

“No, no, go ahead,” he cut in, stubbornly resolute, almost belligerent in its exaggerated persistence. “I’m useless, right? I don’t know what I’m doing. Teach me. I won’t even lay a single finger on you.” He puffed his cheeks, a childish act of defiance paired with the way he turned his head away, sulking with the finesse of spoiled royalty.

The exaggerated display drew a sigh from you, long and exasperated, but tinged with a quiet amusement that he didn’t miss. He wasn’t fooling you — not for a second—but he relished the moment all the same.

“Well,” you began, feigning hesitation, with false reluctance. “Since you’re already laid out, I guess…” You trailed off as you shifted to straddle him, slow enough to test the limits of his so-called resolution, the soft white robe you wore parting ever so slightly as you moved, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin before your knees closed firmly around his hips, framing him like twin prison bars.

His eyes darkened as he watched you, taking in the sight hungrily, every detail sinking into him like a drug he couldn’t resist. His hands betrayed him almost immediately, fingertips skimming the hem of the robe where it hung loosely, their touch feather-light as they ghosted over the tops of your thighs. It was instinctive, reflexive — completely unrepentant.

“I thought you weren’t touching me,” you teased with a playful lilt that interrupted the heat thickening the air between you like an unwanted knock on the door.

His hum was deliberately innocent, his head tilting as though to feign ignorance. But the dark gleam in his eyes and the smirk curling at the corners of his lips told a different story entirely. “I really like this robe,” he murmured with a calculated drawl. “What, I can’t touch my own clothes now?”

The claim was absurd — blatantly so — but it made you pause, his fingers grazing the fabric in question as though testing its texture, when in reality, it was clear he was savoring the warmth of your skin beneath it.

(Truthfully, it was also you who looked lovely draped in what was his — but that went without saying.)

Your mouth opened, the gleam of a retort on the tip of your tongue, but the words dissolved into nothingness as his hands shifted, palms hot against your sides, skirting along your ribs in an intentional, testing motion. He knew the heat of his touch stole the breath from your lungs, burning through the fabric like a spark setting fire to paper.

“You go on,” he said, infuriatingly smug as he leaned back into the pillows, his hands never straying far from your sides. “Help yourself. Take as long as you need. I’ll just… be appreciating this fabric in the meantime.”

His fingers traced the lines of your ribs, the motion slow, languid, before sliding downward to hover just above the curve of your stomach. They lingered there, resting near the knot of the belt holding your robe together. The edge of his thumb dipped just slightly beneath the fabric, brushing over its folded loops, a movement so subtle it was barely there, as though he wanted to test how much he could push you. He toyed with the fabric, rolling it between his fingers like he was unraveling a puzzle.

The pause in his pent-up desire — the break that had proven to be a blessing — was wearing thin. The front he was putting on, all casual indifference and smug bravado, was crumbling, betrayed by the way his gaze kept flickering back to you, and, of course, the growing press of his impatience beneath you, hard and neglected, made it abundantly clear that he was more than ready to pick up where you’d last left off.

You broke first.

With nary a warning, your hand shot out, snatching the ends of the thin, ribbon-like scarf draped loosely around his neck. You wound the fabric around your fist once, twice, tightening it just enough to make your intentions clear…

Then you yanked.

The pull wasn’t violent — no, it was far too calculated for that. Enough pressure to catch him off guard, to tip him forward slightly, but not enough to hurt. It was a demand, plain and simple, one he found himself surrendering to before he even had the chance to consider resistance. His wide-eyed surprise melted almost instantly like cotton candy in water into something darker, something sharper, as his lips curled into a grin that spoke volumes about just how much he was enjoying this game.

"First, you ask to beg for my forgiveness," you continued, pulling him a little closer, and his chest tightened as though the leash around his neck extended all the way to his lungs.

Your gaze pinned him down like a blade, your lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a smile — something far more addictive.

"And then," you murmured, sweet but laced with unmistakable bite, "you start ordering me around like a brat."

A jolt of concentrated heat shot through him, not from embarrassment but from the sharp edge of thrill that ran through his veins. He let the tension in his body slacken just slightly, a calculated move that allowed him to lift from the bed a little, meeting your challenge with his own. The faint tug of the scarf against his neck only heightened the electric energy between you, and he found himself biting back a grin.

“Well," he said at last, letting his weight sink into the bed with a noncommittal shrug, the barest shift of his shoulders enough to convey his defiance. "I’m just playing my part." He tilted his head just enough to make the scarf strain, wanted to see what you’d do with the provocation. “The sleazy husband.”

“You want a reward for that?”

“Acknowledgment of how committed to the role I am would be nice.”

“Oh yes, the most infuriating actor—”

“Aaand you goofed it—”

“—impossibly—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—”

“—handsome," you went on, and his smirk faltered ever so slightly. “Disarmingly clever, annoyingly witty," you added, the sharp edge softening with each word, though the grip you kept on the scarf didn’t loosen. If anything, you pulled him closer, closing the space between you inch by inch. "—and worst of all," you finished, dropping into something softer, something so intimate, "Completely, devastatingly, undeniably competent."

“Well, aren’t you good at apologizing…” he said into himself, embarrassingly beet-red at having fallen for your trick.

“I’m still waiting for yours, you know,” you pointed out distractedly, playing with the crystal flame lilies scattered on his wine berry shirt, tracing the petals of a bloom while seemingly entranced, following the silvery droplets dangling in a chain. “But I’ll be graceful this time and keep going with mine...”

Before he had a chance to blink or register the motion — your free palm slipped underneath the thin fabric covering his heart, caressing right alongside the pulsing red mark — and squeezed with a vengeance (such a fierce boob grab!), applying enough pressure that the pads of your fingers sunk into flesh, then widened the buttonless V-cut of his shirt by yanking, no, downright ripping it open by the lapels with both hands, and Rafayel damn near felt like a virgin at how scandalous that single action was that he almost covered himself up.

But then again, he could hardly claim innocence right now, could he? He was practically a champagne bottle about to pop down there. Just from that. Who was he, the main female character getting her corset ripped in a bodice-ripper novel?

“Ohmyg—hi? What happened to hello? How are y—”

“Shut up or no head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kisses were rained along his collarbone, the length of his neck, and nipping gently at the spot behind his ear that got the hairs on his nape rise to attention. It would’ve been funny what a child’s play it was to tease him until his ears matched the scarlet blossoms on his shirt, except nothing about this particular situation bore humor — least of all, his response to it.

Which was practically none at all. Because he simply lay there, stiff as a plank from how turned on he was, and you worked him diligently as if he was an instrument and you were the virtuoso.

It was also because he was zeroed in on the cleavage peeking out from the gap in your robe as you made your way further downwards, tongue flickering along the dips and bumps of his upper abdomen — surely able to feel more than hear each inhale and exhale getting closer to moaning territory the longer you kept teasing. He even caught a nip slip here and there, getting impossibly harder in response, culminating in him twitching and tightening beneath you whenever you — purposefully! — brushed against his erection.

“Rafayel,” you sighed dreamily, and he moaned for real this time at how his name fell softly past your parted lips, pouring into a pleased hum against his navel where a trail of wetness gleamed — followed by fingertips curling gently around the hem of his pants’ band. “You’re so quiet. Not leaving it up to chance, huh?”

And the only response he gave was an impatient roll of his hips toward your head, granting you permission — eager acquiescence, even — while a loud, unabashed gasp slipped into his lungs as your hands found the zipper of his pants. With a practiced tug, you freed it from its track, and his pants slid low on his hips, just enough to reveal the waistband of his underwear. Your fingers followed immediately, hooking under both fabric barriers to ease them down until they rested tautly just below his hips. The motion tugged on his shirt as well, once secured by the overlap tucked into his waistband, and with nothing anchoring it anymore, the luxurious fabric parted effortlessly, exposing the sculpted expanse of his chest and abs in one sweeping reveal. His stiffening length, freed from its confines, ached visibly — leaping subtly toward contact, as though craving the touch it had been denied for far too long.

"See? You're being so good... why do you keep wanting to provoke me?" came your lilting reproach, spoken against the soft skin of his pelvis, lips fluttering teasingly across its planes in playful grazes of their silky plush. "

“Permission to talk?”

A sharp, in-drawn breath escaped him the moment a single finger traced along the underside of his shaft, lingering over a wildly pulsing vein — evidence of the frenetic race of his heart currently pumping pure liquid lightning straight through his veins — but he recovered quickly, allowing it to dissolve into an exhale long and drawn-out instead.

“Go ahead, handsome.”

His hips lurched instinctively in search of something tangible, of a sensation besides the torturous tickle of warm breaths dancing lightly along his arousal, "Give me my reward, then. I've waited so long for this, it's been torture."

“Doesn’t sound like you minded the wait. You left me, didn’t you?”

Ah, yes. The grudge. You were becoming like Rafayel the longer you stayed by his side.

"You know I hate waiting. Let alone like this," he said, all whiny and punctuated with a shudder — one that was met with an accompanying jolt that surged straight from the base of his erection when your lips brushed teasingly alongside it. "I didn't think you'd be this cruel..."

"Are you really asking?"

"Can you give it to me instead of wasting time talking?" came his blunt retort, brows drawn together in an impatient furrow that radiated ‘I’m being wronged,’ energy.

"Not wasting time at all, just wanted to spend more time with you. Feels nice, right? You deserve this,” you murmured comfortingly against the swell of his abs rising and falling with each heavy breath — and oh, he almost melted into a puddle at that, visibly deflating with his chest cavity just filling up all warm and fuzzy with love.

It did feel nice but — just — just — fuck — he needed to be touched or he actually was going to disintegrate into sea foam. Not joking.

A brief kiss landed on on the left side of his Apollo belt in consolation before a drag of your tongue along its path followed, transitioning into you breathing more warmth directly into his base, then placing a loving peck to his tip — eyes twinking at the tremble that surged through him. “I really love seeing you so reactive. Does it feel that good? Just breathing on you like this?”

His hips pushed upward in tiny nudges, bumping insistently against your cheek, practically begging to be held properly inside your mouth. "It doesn't feel good at all — just, come on, hurry... I keep my lube in the top drawer on the left... It's edible, you know..."

Thankfully, you didn't smirk at him. Didn't stop to tease him about his eagerness, either, wordlessly going about reaching over to rummage for a bottle in his nightstand — an act that forced you to draw away from his straining member completely, your warmth vanishing suddenly in one agonizing instant, causing him to nearly whine from the loss.

You popped open the lid to squirt some lubrication into your palm and recapped it while staring down at him with a curious gleam. "You had something like this with you the whole time—"

Your words got cut off upon him grabbing your dripping hand and directing it straight where his impatience stood angry at the delay, shuddering out a moan at how incredibly silky the glide was.

"Finally... yesss," he hissed, thrusting upwards to feel more friction — the delicious slickness spreading across your enclosed grip driving him absolutely wild. "Ahh—kkhfff... Keep going, you have to keep going, don't let go... Please. Please?”

Something in your face twisted weirdly at his breathy begging, making his heart flip at the unflinching lust in your widened gaze trained firmly onto his jerking hips.

He had your fist trapped around his swollen cock, urging you into pumping it once you settled into a steady rhythm stroking its turgid crown, twisting and curling into each new swipe upwards along his pulsing flesh; encouraging you by squeezing tighter every few strokes until you took over completely. Then, he threw his arm over his forehead haphazardly, basking in the blissful waves flowing through his veins at long last, watching you watch yourself pleasure him through fluttering lashes, breathing hard through half-parted lips.

"That's it," he sighed huskily, rocking his body into the hand rubbing and grinding against his dick's ridge with expert motions; thumb circling its glistening head and caressing alongside its slit where precome beaded out generously, smoothing over the entirety of its surface and working into the underside, swirling tantalizingly over the bulging vein there until all his thoughts melted into a haze of pure sensation, mind wiped clean of everything except the singular, simple fact that he desperately needed to come. "Like that — nnhhh, yes! That feels amazing — feels perfect — love those sweet little fingers... So close already, I can't, I can't—"

At his muttered groans, your pace stuttered noticeably before resuming its previous speed, which wasn't fast enough according to the stretching throb inside his core, his blood rushing loudly through his ears like boiling rapids. "No, faster..." he urged you, rutting into your palm even harder in a frantic effort to increase the pressure and bring him to the precipice quicker. "I can't hold on much longer — need more, I need more. Tighter. Tighter."

The corners of his vision pulsed white and Rafayel whimpered as he jumped inside your curled fist when the unexpected sensation of having your forefinger slide through his sticky fluids gathered at its tip, swirling clockwise before ascending back up in an unhurried stroke that carried a slippery coating alongside it to smooth out the glide to put pressure right into the slit — a sensation that lingered for seconds afterward with ghostly echoes, drawing a sudden choked gasp from his lips at how intensely good that single touch felt.

“Thaaaaat’s it, yeah, I love that, you have such a beautiful voice.” Your free palm swept up alongside his ribs to rub gently against their curve as though to soothe the ragged sounds ripping past his throat; traveling upward to cradle his head against yours where your cheek brushed alongside his temple, holding him still with tender care and easing some of the tremble wracking through him. "Can you feel how much I'm enjoying us being together like this — how badly I've missed you? Please let me hear those pretty sounds, I wanna hear them loud and clear. Will you be generous for me and share it all?"

His reply died in his throat in favor of a low keening sound — something raw and broken — when you squeezed tighter.

The way your nails dug ever so delicately into the sides of his cock, applying pressure just shy of pain was truly exquisite torture, making his head swim and rise up from the bed so he could crush his lips against yours, biting hungrily into your plush mouth and delving deep into its depths until oxygen became nothing but an afterthought. Every neuron of him burned alive in chain reaction as your tongue wound and slid alongside his, curling along the underside before retreating for him to suckle on your lower lip eagerly until it swelled red.

"Mmnghhfuck! Hhhaaa—keep—" Words spilled past his slackened lips like ribbons unfurling, senseless as he struggled to convey how excruciating it was to contain his euphoria within, desperate for any sort of outlet to relieve the pressure rising inside him rapidly —

— and then broke off suddenly on a low moan when he caught a flash of your unoccupied hand that was just cradling his neck having found its way between your thighs, the view out of sight because of the robe —

Then, Rafayel saw the pearly gates.

His orgasm slammed straight into him, so unexpected and yet wholly expected all the same that he gasped around it like he was in a headlock, utterly disoriented by the sudden assault on his senses, soaring impossibly higher with each jerk of his hips into your fingers' grasp and shooting thick white streaks across his stomach; leaving behind faint smears wherever it hit its mark — warm, sticky ropes landing atop his defined abs and even reaching as far as his sternum.

He knew something was wrong when it didn't stop.

Far from it, really: each pulsing contraction seemed to force more of its fluid past his cock's narrow slit, painting your pumping digits liberally with his release — even staining the lapels of your robe in messy spots. It lasted so long that Rafayel started seeing stars sparkling around the edges of his blurring vision; making everything appear fuzzy like static. "Nggh—too much—ah! Aaa—hhh! Nnhhfff... Khhffffcking hell... Can't believe—still going—"

"Don't hold back now, just ride it out, nothing wrong with it," you murmured fervently, brushing some hair back from his sweat-soaked temple and — then — kisses, so many kisses. "I know you wanted this so badly, it's okay... You deserve this. Let go for me, yeah? Can't you let go for me? All this stress will go away. Isn't that nice?"

What came out instead was an embarrassingly high moan, hoarse with overuse, entirely at odds with the self-assuredness he'd wanted to project with each thrust of his hips, spurred onwards by instinct alone in a mad dash for euphoria.

Just how pent-up was he?

He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt pleasure this acute, sharp as shrapnel beneath the layers of desire, making him so out of it that he wasn't even aware of the embarrassing mess he made like he’d just wet himself being cleaned up with a tissue by you.

And it still wasn't nearly enough.

He surged forward, wound his arm around your waist and tossed you to the side gently so your back lay flush against the sheets before following suit in a tangle of limbs that ended with you under him — where he belonged: cradled between your thighs, seated fully inside their heated clasp as he hovered above you — one elbow propped beside your shoulder while the other wandered aimlessly downwards and undid the trusty knot holding your robe together in one go.

"Rafa—"

“Sorry, I'm sorry, I can't, I'm so thirsty," he said, as he raised the lube-and-come-sodden hand of yours up to his mouth to lap at the trails trickling over your wrist; sucking on your fingertips in apology — no trace of shame coloring his cheeks as he did, far too focused on the task of cleaning them thoroughly to be distracted by something as trivial as embarrassment. He didn’t even taste himself. Just the blueberry.

So engrossed in it that he didn’t even notice you burning holes with your gaze at his lips sealing around your thumb while he ran his tongue underneath it in short, quick flicks until it was glistening once more, except this time with spit instead of lubricant.

All the while, he traced the clean strip of skin revealed by the parted folds of your robe with a searing hand, starting from the valley of your cleavage between your breasts all the way down the slight convex curve of your torso leading towards the V that marked the point where your thighs began, drawing delicate circles into your navel, slipping downward inch by tantalizing inch in search for hidden oasis.

Taking notice of how wrecked you looked through the curtains of your fingers splayed over his eyes and forehead, Rafayel rewarded you an equally debauched looked as his lips curled into a smirk against your palm.

A loud, viscous pop of your wetness echoed in the room when his fingers tenderly made contact — positively dripping for him. Your mouth flew open upon feeling him draw his forefinger's pad gently against your entrance, lingering teasingly at the seams in an excruciating crawl, tracing lightly around it as you pulsed hungrily against his fingertip.

"So thirsty," he mumbled absentmindedly to himself — mouth watering.

Rafayel pushed open your legs by the backs of your thighs to allow his head better access. If he was on a normal day, he would plant feverish kisses on the insides of your quaking knees and thighs and mark you everywhere, made it more sensual, more teasing, but he was borderline parched — not to mention more impatient than a driver stuck behind a cyclist in a one -lane road.

You yelped at his mouth diving between your legs in reckless abandon. His tongue lapped up your slick in deep, obscene flicks, then plunged inside into the warm haven awaiting him inside, devouring your sweet nectar in loud slurps, uncaring of how sloppy and unrestrained he was currently acting; far too hungry to concern himself over anything save for indulging greedily in your flavor.

"Rafayel, shit, that feels—oh my god..." He had to push your hips down by splaying his hand along the plane of your stomach as you arched helplessly, otherwise you would have simply lifted right off from his greed ravaging you without mercy or restraint. "That's so—you're so—fuck! What—what’s gotten into you? Ahh...!"

Any hope of responding to that died the second your hand tangled itself tightly into his hair and tugged to bring him impossibly closer against you, his head blanking. It felt so good when your heel planted itself onto his shoulder blade and pressed insistently there in a silent plea for more, sending ripples of heat fanning out across his nerve endings in their wake.

Without hesitation, he latched his lips around the swollen bud peaking proudly from beneath a layer of velveteen flesh and flicked upwards, suckling hard before closing around it fully — then rolled his tongue in circles around its rim with the intent to render your world spinning madly with each passing stroke. The fingers locked around your trembling thighs kneaded deeply into their skin, coaxing the delicious, involuntary spasms coursing throughout you until the only thing you knew was the blissful torment his hot mouth wrought.

"You're so delectable on my tongue, did you know? The prettiest moans come pouring out from your lovely lips when I'm between your legs like this," he said, the sentences pieced together like beads on a pearl necklace fragment by fragment between licks and sucks, sounding just short of reverence. "Your taste drives me wild, I swear it's addictive... Am I making it up to you yet? Please say yes. Tell me it's working."

"Yesyesyesyesss—" A sharp inhale cut off anything else you tried to babble further as Rafayel rewarded you with another generous helping of his enthusiasm by diving back in and running his tongue in earnest up through your center. "You feel amazing, you — feel — so — g-good—"

"—don't think that's enough, though. Didn't you call me incompetent earlier?"

"What," you choked out angrily when a puff of warm breaths skated dangerously close to where you were most sensitive. "Oh my god—"

"I hold grudges, cutie. You taught me that," he said in a sing-song reply, lighthearted in tone, nearly drowned out by the thready groans bleeding through.

"I apologized already — what more do you want? Stop teasing, Rafayel!"

A pregnant pause followed as he stared up at you from between your legs, and saw your eyes widen with realization at just what you'd requested.

"As you wish," he relented, a dark edge to his mischievous grin when he rose back up and braced his knees against the mattress better, pulling your hips tight into the cradle of his thighs until one of your legs was thrown over his shoulder. "Have it your way — and don't forget you asked for this."

The slow sink inside your wet heat was traitorously misleading: a gentle, sweet meeting at first that masked what was brewing underneath.

A dragged out whine fanned his flames as you threw your head back. “You asshole—”

"I could have made you come once, twice..." he said, in a smooth purr that dripped sinfully past his lips.

Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp; the first wave of pleasure rolling through you upon being filled suddenly in one deep plunge. Your torso twisted to allow you to hide your face into the curve of his forearm draped next to your shoulder.

"You know I love taking my time with you," he continued, pausing to bury his face into your hair to breathe you in deeply, adjusting your leg to fall from his shoulder straight onto his hip. You took advantage of Rafayel getting close, grabbing onto his back so quickly that you missed the first time and yanked his shirt down to bunch halfway down his midsection and get stuck at his elbows. "And you just had to take that from me. I don't know which one of us is greedier... "

An apology was voiced, muffled by the crook of his elbow, almost incoherent by your gasps.

He cupped your chin and made you look at him. “Are you comfortable? Not hurting you, am I?”

Your throat clicked audibly. Then you shook your head rapidly in answer to both inquiries: yes — no — everything was okay — and Rafayel breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

And then, out of nowhere your fingers started moving around the expanse of his upper back, and before he could question the non-sexual way it came across when he was literally inside you, you said, "You're sweating."

"Yeah...?" Confusion muddled his hazy mind clouded with dull pleasure begging for him to start moving again, but you looked at him with wide, eager expectation dancing behind your expectant eyes — as if you couldn't quite believe what you'd seen.

"No — your temperature. It's still high but you're sweating now," you told him excitedly. "Rafayel — that's huge! This means your body is cooling itself down!"

He huffed.

"Of course it is, I've got the hottest woman in the world under me," he said with a roll of his hips, earning an enthusiastic moan from you in the process. Your arms snaked themselves around the back of his neck tighter until both forearms crossed at their crease, palms moving upwards in an intoxicating drag through the back of his skull. "You the cure to all of this..."

His forehead dropped unceremoniously yours where it stayed, and he sucked in an uneven, shaky groan that tapered into something resembling a whine as he started rutting steadily against you, driving into that spot where you liked it the best with growing desperation with the occasional staccato grunt at the fluttering squeeze and murmured encouragement.

At some point, his mouth wandered towards your pulse, scraped his teeth against it gingerly before latching on it in an open-mouthed kiss that was hard enough to bruise.

You tilted your chin skywards with a sigh to give him better access and tangled your fingers encouragingly deeper into his hair, and something inside him sparked awake in response, a fiery need demanding him to paint every inch of your skin violet, rose and mauve so that it may glow evermore brightly for everyone to see —

"Way too beautiful for your own good... Driving me crazy... Every single day... Couldn't keep my hands off you the moment I got in here..." he hissed furiously as though he were possessed, snapping his hips harder upon finding the angle he desired, searching relentlessly for something within you both to satisfy the frenzied race to the peak taking control of him completely; searing kisses littering everywhere he could reach along the underside of your chin and neck whilst spewing senseless litanies into your skin in between them. "Can't believe I could have this forever... Right? Say I can have this forever. It'll drive me insane if you don't, I swear—"

"Forever," you echoed hoarsely, your nails digging tightly into his scalp as his pace increased once more. "Y-you can have me forever—anytime, wherever—"

Your assurances came with a startled cry of ecstasy as he sank his teeth into the juncture connecting your shoulder and collarbone in a bite that bordered on a savage instinct to ensure he was there, he'd been there, and would always be there. "You're not leaving, are you? Aren't gonna leave me anytime soon, right?

Every syllable was marked with a measured grind into you as if determined to force every word inside your head by burying it deep in your core — imprint it permanently into your brain; until the only thing filling your thoughts was him and him alone. "Not letting you — I'm not letting you. I can’t let you go, it’s too late — too late. Say it. Say it.”

"As — many times as I ne-ed to," you panted underneath him, arching upwards so beautifully for him as his grip loosened marginally to let you find that perfect angle that caused your back to bow like a perfectly tuned instrument in his hands; singing nothing but divine music. "'S not changing, ever. Won't change... Agh!"

His hips bucked in answer to your nails sinking deep into the skin of his shoulders as though clawing for dear life. "Yeah? Yeah? Promise—?"

All you could do was sob into his mouth hungrily swallowing yours — a mess of moans falling endlessly past your lips swallowed whole, accompanied with plaps and slaps of wet thrusting. There'd never be a time when he wasn't craving the taste of your flesh burning scorching white hot against his own, craving more and more until everything blurred into a haze of delirium.

"Tell me... Tell me—hah, tell me, princess. Let me hear it..." His chest rumbled deep within where yours rubbed deliciously against his bare flesh with each fervent roll of his body. Even then, it wasn't nearly enough; couldn't possibly be, not with how ravenously thirsty he was for anything and everything having to do with you: your sounds, your expressions, those intoxicating stares filled with nothing but need for him and only him. Not while his stomach twisted itself in knots tight enough to tie sails and yet remained impossibly empty at the same time, yearning for the sweet relief of gratification flowing freely and quenching his deepest thirst. "Wanna hear you, gotta hear you say it—"

"I'm right here, m'here, not going anywhere, not leaving... I'myours, just don't let go, don't let go of me—"

He heard it as though you were underwater; faint, muffled underneath the thick fog clouding his senses, so indistinct yet simultaneously loud enough to drown out anything else within reach.

Every coherent thought vanished from his mind, melting into thin ribbons streaming across an ocean of red flames, then bursting forth anew into embers scattering throughout his vision in a dizzying display, igniting behind his eyelids with blinding light every time he blinked them closed. When he opened them, new constellations blossomed instantaneously; bright orange ones with maroon tinges shining bright among the black canvas.

"M'not gonna—! Can't let go—couldn't even if I tried. They wouldn't even be able to pry you away from my cold, dead hands."

More vivid blotches appeared before him at random intervals, painting his desert landscape in abstract patterns shifting so erratically they threatened to form fractals at any moment, jagged shapes overlapping and warping themselves until they resembled colorful stains splattered across walls in chaotic messes; or perhaps simply the shadows of clouds skirting the edges of his sight drifting past without a care — all blending together and merging seamlessly as though water droplets bleeding into fine lines until none could tell where one ended and the others began.

"Gonna be... gonna be stuck with me for life," Rafayel said, sounding entirely half out of his mind with the way he was babbling endearments (something about a bride) in-between little laps that trailed upwards along your quivering sternum toward your heaving chest; kissing you so fervently as though possessed, driven wholly by base instincts demanding he give in to whatever compulsion overtook him. "Always been mine. Always. Always—can't ever leave, yeah? I won't forgive you—won't forgive you this time—"

"Rafayel, I'm gonna come, please..." you whispered hoarsely against the crown of his head nestled between your breasts, your hands grasping onto his shoulders helplessly in an attempt at anchoring yourself. "I can't keep going, I'll fall apart. Please, don’t stop, don’t stop—"

One of his fingers slid down to repeatedly flick through your swollen folds, teasing and circling around your clit while his tongue swirled around a nipple; pulling and sucking hungrily with fervent desire, giving a pointed twist once he'd latched on.

"Come for me, then, do it, c'mon, cream all around me, let me have it, let me have this — you can do it, I’ll help you along.” His lower body lifted suddenly, pulling back until only his cockhead remained caught inside; followed by a quiet pop indicating his lips breaking contact from where they were buried in your chest. "I need you so bad I can hardly stand it anymore... Wanna feel you — feel all of you — need all of you..."

All it took was one sudden shift after a steady build-up of rhythm of shallow, quick thrusts: the smallest rotation of his pelvis and thrust straightwards, hips knocking against yours in a violent shove of flesh meeting slick flesh for you to fly apart spectacularly when he buried himself into that specific area right below your cervix.

With a shuddering breath that dissolved instantly into a shrill cry tearing through your throat, your thighs locked tight around his waist — holding him prisoner while your nails sank fiercely into his scratched back as your entire body trembled uncontrollably through the aftermath.

“Yeah, there you go, cutie.” A comforting, grounding caress landed on your forehead, tracing the arc of its curve towards the back of your ear; then repeating itself multiple times in slow, unhurried strokes — to remind you he wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon. “There you are, that was beautiful. You got me seeing stars.”

"It's... It's snowing outside... In the desert," you said faintly, eyelids slow in their blinking, and Rafayel thought how utterly gorgeous you looked, all worn down and exhausted and so drunk in your post-orgasmic euphoria to talk nonsensically about what was happening outside.

"Yeah," he agreed, equally hushed as he peppered a trail of soft kisses across the bridge of your nose. You closed your teary lashes instinctively against the ticklish sensation. "It's so soft... and beautiful..."

You were the snow in his desert. Though, too blissed out to pick up on what he was implying.

Too busy stiffening up when you felt his cock jump inside you.

"You... you're still hard?"

“I didn’t come in the first place, whoops. Busy being too competent, I guess,” he said breezily, tilting his hips so that he pressed deep inside, directly into the tender spot inside you where pleasure flared to life unbidden.

"Let me... Let me rest, fuck, give me a minute..." Your hands scrambled for purchase against his scarred back; anchoring yourself by clawing surface level trenches down along its expanse and dragging red tracks as he continued his grinding in torturously slow and shallow rolls. "Need — I need to catch my breath, you're gonna make me pass out, shit, hold on — !"

Rafayel had you for three more times after that.

The first was the short prologue to what was coming, picked up from where he’d left off in the same position — head buried in your neck, making you tightly embrace him like he’d fly off the earth if he wasn’t held. No sooner did his hips start bucking roughly against yours before he spent himself inside in long pulses that coated you inside in heated spurts, sending sparks rippling out into your limbs from where you clenched weakly around him through your own release that hadn’t yet run its full course.

The prettiest sounds in the whole entire world spilled from him as he pulled out with a schlick, dripping his neglect-thickened seed onto the sheets, and you were naive as to think this was it. You both had indulged yourselves enough for the night, fucked through the absence-abstaining makes the heart fonder phenomenon, it had been fantastic to witness him get so serious. Surely now would be a good time to cool off and step into the bath together now that you’d been able to make him sweat and the sex-heavy humidity clinging thickly to your body was getting more comfortable the more you became aware of it. The room was absolutely boiling, stuffier than a sauna like he’d projected all the heat trapped inside his body everywhere. Perhaps opening up a window wouldn’t hurt…

“That was one,” he said then, staring down at his flushed erection straining proudly between his legs like a compass needle pointed north — the faint strand of semen connecting his tip and stomach swaying and snapping apart. “This isn’t anywhere near enough.”

To your shock, Rafayel got off the bed, hauled you in by your legs until your bottom half was dangling from the bed, and folded you completely in half with no warning. Your legs were pushed against your chest and were hooked over his shoulders, and the speed of with which all of it happened punched out a wheeze from you.

"Can I? Are you okay?" he asked urgently, patting your thigh rapidly twice, pausing — then adding another firm slap there before you nodded hurriedly in confirmation rather than a verbal response, because fuck, his weight holding you down felt absolutely incredible like this.

Your ankles started bobbing in sync with his hip thrusts as he drove deep inside your heat, the sink easy, smooth and soft and the mess you both made between your legs pouring out and splattering everywhere as he kept mumbling, “I can’t stop, I’m sorry, I can’t stop, can’t stop—”

This round lasted longer, though it was the worst frenzy you’d seen Rafayel in. Nothing was slow about it, he was mercilessly pistoning himself into you and unpredictably switching between shallow and deep that had your clit being scraped against and A-spot drilled into. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open from how intense pleasure was kneading you violently like a dough. If it wasn’t for his mouth gluing itself onto yours, the entire floor and the poor downstairs guests probably would have heard what was happening with how loud his moaning became — because he was downright voluntarily overstimulating himself.

With one particularly desperate sob, Rafayel finally buried himself to the hilt within you — throbbing — in harsh jets of liquid fire with jerking, abrupt twitches of his hips, milking himself into your body as he found yet another release that was as intense and concentrated as the previous. You cried brokenly, shuddering as that final thrust abused your clit over the edge of orgasm number two, involuntarily flinching and trying to get away when he pushed all the accumulated, positively flowing stringy mess right back into your puffy cunt with a strange, entranced look on his face. You had to slap his hand away and kick his weight off you, powerless and exhausted and fully feeling like your vagina was gaping and would never close back up.

A soft kiss on your cheek brought you back to earth.

“Still alive?” he croaked, gently maneuvering you higher up the bed and laying you back comfortably. You had to avoid the giant, wet and shining spot that had to be dripping down on the floor at the edge of the bed, face burning as Rafayel’s sweat-drenched forehead leaned against yours. “I’m not going easy on you… I have to say I’m impressed how good you’re taking it.”

You realized, once more with feeling, that he was rock-hard against your hip despite having already come three separate times — two of which had filled you to the point of pouring out of you — and had no sign of calming down any time soon.

He was beyond insatiable.

Though the third and final time was far sweeter, the pace much slower and drawn out as though he’d suddenly regained some sense and clarity. By that time, you were growing deliriously tired, the earlier carnal fucking accommodated itself to you by morphing into tender lovemaking. Rafayel had you on your side, comfortably able to hug pillows and anchor yourself, while straddling your thigh and hooking your other calf over his waist and held it there firmly, out from your space to let you breathe with his back straight. Just looking down at you with obvious, sensual longing to lean down for kisses the entire time and looking so fucked out had been enough to rekindle your desire.

He was driving himself languidly into you, either eyes closed and head thrown back, or focused dead-on at the spot between where he was slipping in and out of you — watching your cunt eagerly swallow his white-coated cock and attempt to suck him right back in each time he pulled out until only his tip remained buried. Over and over.

And eventually, his shaky breaths and sweet sighs started turning into fast-paced, restrained moans. You saw him hanging on the precipice of wanting to go fast again, the tension his body pulled taut like a bowstring about to snap.

At one point, your robe and his shirt had found themselves slingshotted into the far, opposite corners of the room at some point but he still had his pants and was positively drenched in sweat like he’d just taken a bath and shining under the dim lighting.

"Drained all of my stamina, I'm empty, completely dry... I’m gonna need an IV drip. I can’t believe it. This is crazy, you know... I could die happy like this... But I wanna come. I wan—nnah come inside you so bad again, wanna fill you up—make you full with me—"

He went completely motionless and stayed burrowed in you when your palms cupped his face gently, forcing him to look down at you with his shiny eyes. "You've got to calm down first."

“I don’t think I can,” he murmured, panting, “I really can’t. You feel so—”

Your thumbs stroked the outer corners of his eyes with aching tenderness. “We’ll stop and try to calm you down a bit continuing then, okay? Try for me. No need to rush when we have time to ourselves. No one’s going anywhere.”

He stumbled and nearly fell to his elbows on top of you. “Tell me to,” he said, in a begging voice. “You can just tell me to calm down. Anything you want, anything. You know I’ll listen.”

All these months of living with the revelation about the bond and it still came as a shock to you, but you figured if it was for his own good...

So you ordered him: "Calm down and relax, Rafayel. Everything’s fine, you’re okay."

And god, did he listen well.

You were shocked, as you always were each time, to see just how willingly compliant he was. Seeing his body literally change its chemistry to conform itself to your desires and let go of all tension was unbelievable. You immediately felt bad that you’d forced it on him somehow like some admitted, invasive tranquilizer, because you could have made him relax naturally, with your own labor, a glass of water and massage, maybe, gradually work him through it—

“There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t think about it too much. Just focus on me, yeah?” A quiet command that lacked any real intent to order accompanied an equally soft kiss planted softly against the corner of your mouth, and all thoughts went flying out of the window when you saw how mellowly at peace he was, gazing dreamily at you without the slightest care in the world.

After that, everything became a blur once again. But a pleasant one. Slow, like molasses trickling lazily throughout your bloodstream at room temperature — soothing all aches into pleasure-flavored coziness at being joined, no rampant race towards a climax involved. There was no concept of time whatsoever: just the two of you together.

After your pillow talk about what he believed inspired him — what he wanted would, you internally filled in the blanks — and how he was running out of reserves exclusively saved up for the purposes of his art, you had to make it clear to him that there would be no pain involved in your relationship.

You didn’t know if he expected to be hurt by you in the future or implied he had no problem with that happening, but you couldn’t even tolerate him saying those things for the sake of love, or whatever it was. Him being intimately familiar and nonchalant with the concept bothered you down to the bones.

Not only were you trying to work around the huge rock he’d just dropped on top of your heart with the revelation that Aridum had to represent pure suffering to him as a Lemurian, you were also slightly upset he’d wanted to subject himself to it because he was lost more beautiful things in life had made their way into his life to inspire him as well. His paintings, all of them, had taken a new context and an additional layer of tragedy with that revelation, despite the fact that he’d basically said you made him draw from a different fountain and clogged up the other one.

It was a bittersweet happiness to hear Rafayel wanting to explore brighter, happier sides of life together when the sketch he showed you he was working on while you were sleeping depicted a man drowning in the sea and a figure beckoning him from above, close to the surface. Something still very painful.

“That’s one bleak drawing.”

“Depends on what you see.”

“I see a dying man hallucinating. Maybe that’s someone close to him and his brain is comforting him with a vision. I don’t know.”

“Interesting take. Maybe it’s not just a man at all. Maybe it’s a reunion. It looks peaceful, doesn’t it?”

Now you looked again, it did look peaceful. Just like Rafayel was right now, next to you on the bed with his forehead almost touching yours.

"I'd like to think he isn't drowning, then."

Rafayel just smiled.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel smut #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #rafayel #intertidal zone #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds

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pinayelf · 2 days ago

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Stuff I Adore about Davrin ❤️

Positions himself as no-nonsense but actually has a soft heart, the little boy who sang to Halla never left

When Mila asks for payment for saving them at Weisshaupt he plays along and asks if Griffon kisses count 🥺

Cares about Rook's well-being regardless of romance, we joke about touching grass, but touching grass actually helps lol

"The road less traveled. That's how I found you."

Is understanding about Emmrich's lichdom (if you take that route) because he sees how much it means to Emmrich, even if he doesn't really understand that stuff

His big brown eyes when he goes 🥺

So so CHARMING. AND FOR WHAT 😭❤️

Skilled craftsman, like genuinely. He makes such detailed figures

Knight in shining armor hero type oughhh

Is going to write his own monster manual because he thinks no one else will do it right lmao "Fine I'll do it myself"

The most beautiful elf ever tbh

Is a sword and board warrior. I'm weak for that I fear

Customized his own armor to be able to represent him being a Warden and so it's utilitarian for his being a hunter

Will always consider himself Dalish no matter what

His friendship with Bellara, telling her she's got him

Acts stoic at first, but is actually a goofball

Non-chalantly telling Taash about the secrets of the Joining LMFAOOOO

Genuinely the bisexual boyfriend of my dreams (canon)

"From here on out it's pretty simple: wherever you are, there I am."

#davrin #davrin dragon age #veilguard #datv #character: davrin #game: dav #i tried to put things that is more abt him and less abt him and assan

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evie-sturns · 2 days ago

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nerve - Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt has the worst attitude all day, and when you two finally get home he has the nerve to ask you to touch him which you obviously deny, making him get himself off infront of you.

contains: sub!matt, male masturbation, slighttt humiliation, teasing, matt with an attitude, pathetic!matt, swearing, fluff.

------------------------------------------------------------

7:32pm

matt sits beside me in bed, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as i scroll through my phone. i'm wearing nothing but a small brandy melville pyjama set. matts favourite.

on a quiet night alone with matt like tonight, we'd usually be pouncing on eachother the first chance we get, but were not.

matt knows he's been acting up all day, with the snarky comments, stubborn demeanour and the most bratty attitude.

matt lets out a small whine, he clears his throat slightly as he rolls over closer to me.

"'m hard.." he mumbles, his lap pressed firmly against my thigh,

"i can tell." i whisper back, putting down my phone and looking over at him.

he buries his flushed face into my shoulder, another strangled noise leaving his lips.

"what is it matt?" i sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"it hurts.." he groans himself, looking up at me

"well how about you sort yourself out in the bathroom yeah?" i speak, staring into his big round eyes,

"h-help myself? but-" he glances down at the tent in his lap, "but youre here and i cant-"

"what am i gonna do about that matt?' i ask, earning another loud whine from him as he desperetly palms himself through the thick fabric of his sweatpants. "i dont think you deserve my tocuh after how much of a brat you've been today?" i follow up.

"but- but i do..." matt protests, "i really- please let me.." he speaks as his face falls with disapointment

"im not rewarding your behaviour matt, so im gonna give you some options yeah?" i whisper, trying to ignore the needy look in his eyes.

"fine!" he groans.

"you can help yourself here, in the bathroom, or just not cum at all yeah? but im not touching you." i speak,

"no!" he tries to protest,

"you dont wanna finish? thats fine by me, your choice baby." i speak,

"but- i do- ugh! fine okay!" he babbles before tugging down his sweatpants,

my eyes widen, not expecting him to actually do something about his situation.

he pants heavily as he tugs down his boxers to his mid thighs,

"dont- dont laugh," he croaks out,

"'not gonna laugh at you hon." i assure him, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth,

his pale skin flushes beet red, he looks completley and utterly humiliated.

"okay- okay- just- right.. okay." he rambles,

his brunette hair falls infront of his eyes as he looks down at his lap, gently moving his hand towards his erection.

"okay- just- yeah.. okay shut up.." he whispers,

"im not saying anything!" i giggle,

"yeah- but youre thinkin' it!" he bites back playfully,

he suddenly wraps his long, pale fingers around his girth. his tip is a raw pink, oozing precum.

he purses his lips tight, being sure to not let any noises slip, after all, he didnt wanna look more pathetic, did he?

i see his eyes flutter shut as he squeezes himself once, before gently moving his hand over his tip.

i see his leg twitch slightly,

i stare intensley, causing matt to get even more worked up.

"s-stop- stop lookin' at me-" he croaks out, his voice high pitched and whiny.

"shh," i whispers, pressing a finger to his plump red lips.

he moves his hand under my mouth, "can you please- spit-" he asks, i shake my head,

"told you, 'm not doing anything for you after this big attitude you've built up." i remind him,

his eyebrows knit together with frustration, "you're bein' so mean!" he mutters,

"what was that?" i ask,

"nothing."

i see him spit in his palm, gently running the same hand down his length, one of his fingers tracing the long vein on the side of his cock.

"feels- feels so good." he whimpers,

he gently starts to pump himself, his hand sliding over his tip.

he gnaws on his bottom lip before looking up at me through his eyelashes, i continue to sit on the bed to his side as he lays down against the large pile of silky pillows.

hes dead silent, desperately trying to hold back his noises.

"you're allowed to make noises you know, 'm not judging you,"

"yeah- but its so- embarrassing. i dont want to- i dont know let go like that." he grunts, his eyes fluttering closed.

"its just me hon, ive heard everything before." i assure, him, gently running my long acrylic nales over the soft skin of his lower tummy.

"i- i dont want anyone to hear!" he says, his resolve rapidly crumbling,

“i’m the only one here baby, everyone else is out,” i assure him,

suddenly a loud moan rips out of him, his back arching off the bed.

“there we go, good boy.” i coo, keeping my hand on his lower stomach.

he keeps his fist firmly around his shaft, moving his hand up and down rapidly as his eyebrows pinch together.

“oh fuck-“ he whines, his movements getting faster.

i see him look up at me through narrow eyes, his cheeks completely red.

“so fuckin’ pathetic.” i laugh, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“stop- ‘m not! you said you wouldn’t la-laugh!” he whimpers, desperately tugging at his sensitive skin.

“why do you think i’d do what you want matt? you’ve been so bitchy all day.” i sigh,

“mm! i haven’t!” he protests,

i drag my thumb over his swollen tip, before instantly pulling my hand back.

a loud moan escapes his lips, “ah- ahh.. please do that again!”

i shake my head,

“i need to cum- s-so bad- but- but can’t!” his voice his so high it’s almost amusing, he is just so pathetic.

“mm? can’t cum without my help?” i ask, a teasing tone clear in my voice.

“i- i can! i- i-“ matt’s thighs trembles as he throws his head back.

“just- just say anything!- please- please oh fuck-“ he follows up, his hand reaching out and grabbing my thigh

he digs his fingertips into my thigh as his raw tip dribbles with precum, the clear liquid running down his tip onto his hand.

“anything?” i whisper,

“cum- cum!” he squeals, my one word tipping him over.

strings of white spurt out of him, landing directly on his tummy, which is rising and falling rapidly with his panting.

he stops his movements with his hand, which is now coated in his own release.

“there he is, so so good.” i coo, pressing a kiss to his tip.

a small gasp exits his mouth,

i kitten lick the head of his cock once more, his salty taste present on my tongue before pulling my head away. he groans from overstimulation as his fingers dig into the soft plush skin of my thigh

he’s fully hard again.

“please, please- i’m hard again- you’re gonna touch me this time?”

i shake my head with a small grin, running my hand through his silky hair.

“but-!” he starts but i cut him off.

“no buts, you’ve been such a brat all day,” i start,

“now cmon, pull up your sweats, you’re not cumming again today.” i instruct him, earning a frustrated whine from him as he follows my instructions.

@jayz4dayz4 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour r @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya a @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmelbaesunpostre @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise e @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos s @downbad4reid

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt stuniolo fanfic

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rafesweetie · 1 day ago

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‎♡‧₊˚ boat days with rafe are always prissy!readers favourite days.

you loved them because it felt like the one moment rafe’s mind wasn’t elsewhere. usually he was a stressed, impatient man, but when he’d find the time to take the yacht out far and just park it there and soak in the sun with you, he was always happy.

rafe was doing his morning workout while you soaked in the sun that reflected from the water, a shirley temple in hand that rafe made you at the bar. peacefully content, your stomach rested on the longue chair as your back tanned, glowing from the tanning oil that rafe had applied for you while complaining about how oily it felt and how he was gonna have to wash his hands.

with a sigh when you realize your drink is empty, you call rafe’s name to get you another one — not in a bratty way, you just knew rafe was always glad to keep you content, so he would make you another, even if he did mutter ‘i’m not your fuckin’ servant’ every time.

he comes over, pausing his workout. “yeah, baby?”

“can i have another drink?” you ask, turning over to lie on your back so you can face him.

“yeah, i got you,” he takes the empty glass and makes you another shirley temple, then brings it back to you. “need anything else?”

“umm..” you try to think, biting on your inner cheek. “dunno if i really want tan lines, can you help me untie my bikini top?”

“this isn’t france, baby, can’t sit outside with your tits out,”

“do you see anyone around? we’re in the middle of the ocean,” you ask. “didn’t know you were such a prude, just wanna tan my chest,”

“m’not a prude. fine, sit up. c’mon,” he relents, and you sit up.

his big hands fidget with the little bow on your triangle bikini, untying both knots. “there you go,” he pats your shoulder. “gotta go back to working out, you good here for like, fifteen minutes? not bored?”

“i’m fine. thank you rafe,” you smile up at him, pecking his lips while he’s still crouched down.

he nods, giving you one last look with his pretty baby blues before turning to go to the back of the boat to finish his workout.

you spend a bit of time on your phone while you’re still sat up, taking photos of the water, and topless selfies to absolutely send to rafe next time he’s at the office, and take sips of your shirley temple. then you apply some tanning oil on your front and tan that side for a little while, putting in an earbud to listen to some lana del rey.

after a while, you’re overheatting, even with your drink. but thankfully, rafe is feeling the exact same way. he finishes his workout and comes back to you all sweaty.

“hey,” he breathes out, taking the earbud out of your ear and stealing a sip of your drink so he can get his breath back.

“rafe!” you whine, swiping your drink back.

“usually when people say hey, you say hi back,” he says sarcastically, teasing you. “anyway, c’mon, we’re going swimming, i’m hot as fuck and you’re coming with me,”

you nod and he helps you up. he takes you to the edge of the boat. “we’re gonna jump, you good with that?”

“nervous,” you admit, staring off the yacht and into the blue water.

“you’ll be all good. i’ll hold your hand,” he assures, grabbing your manicured hand. “on three,”

he counts down, squeezing your hand each time. when he gets to three, he jumps and pulls you with him.

the water feels cold and refreshing against your warm body. you can’t help but think that your blowout is ruined from the water, but rafe will pay for another one if it upsets you. giggling, you resurface, looping your arms around rafe’s neck, topless chest pressed against his. “that was fun!”

“yeah?” he can’t help the little smile that appears at your happiness. “c’mon, let’s go again,”

with an eager nod, he helps you onto the ladder at the back of the boat, and you grab his hand when he walks you to the edge again. he counts down again, and you jump. it continues like that for 7 minutes until you get chilly.

rafe gets you a towel embroidered with his name (of course), and leaves you to warm up in the sun.

at the end of the day, you’ve changed into a spare sundress kept below deck, because rafe is cooking dinner in the mini kitchen on the yacht. you watch him cook, drying your hair off with a towel, then recurling your eyelashes and putting your lipgloss back on that wiped away.

you sit down back outside, both of you eating your dinner as the sky turns into this gorgeous swirl of pink, orange, and yellow while the sun dips down.

with the golden hour highlighting every feature on your boyfriends face, the feeling of your wet hair soaking the back of the dress, and putting the most delicious food in your mouth, you’re absolutely sure you’ll never get sick of this.

“i think the water is gonna tarnish my necklace,” you tell rafe gently as you help him wash the plates after. your hand subconsciously fiddles with said necklace, the one that has his initial on it. rafe’s very proud of that necklace.

“well we can’t have that, yeah?” rafe smiles, putting his hands on your waist. “we’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, hm? real gold this time, no cheaping out,”

you smile and nod, and he kisses you in a way that’s gonna screw you up forever. being with him is like paradise.

#౨ৎ isa writes #so who caught the taylor lyric #sorry this is bad && not proofread #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine

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suiana · 3 days ago

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fellas, have you ever wondered if a man could ever be as adorable and cute as a baby kitten? well now you can experience and love on in real life! suiana presents to you innocent! yandere and smitten reader ❤️

your very own innocent boy who doesn't even know what NNN or OF means. his instagram feed is full of baking and and clothing ideas, he goes out to help stray animals, and he goes on daily walks to the park to reconnect with nature. he has no idea what a skibidi toilet is, brain completely nourished with the books he borrows from the library. yeah, this guy smells like bread and cookies too btw, he does lots of baking. and cooking. have i mentioned he's completely skilled in the kitchen? yeah, he is.

by some stroke of luck, you meet him one day and... look, he's just the cutest thing ever! i mean, he's fashionable, smells good, and was even defending a stray dog from being bullied by some kids. so you ask him out on a date, but the second you ask him the question you swear you could just die on the spot... because tell me why his entire face is red and he's genuinely so happy??? all smiley faced and blushing like a tomato???

oh it's his first time getting asked out and he's flustered??? he's never been approached by anyone before??? he thinks you're really attractive and he would like to go out on a date too??? oh my god guys, he's even asking if you're comfortable with him rambling like this and not trying to get too close without your consent😭

anyway the two of you go out on a date and you think you just might marry him on the spot with how much of a gentleman he's being??? INSISTING on paying for your meal, respecting your distance and being genuinely curious about you on a deeper level. no mention of hooking up, being casual fwb or anything like that. he's... actually looking for a serious relationship unlike your previous partners? holy shit? so you asked him his thoughts on cheating and some other stuff...

"so what are your thoughts on cheating?"

"cheating?"

"yeah, like when you get with someone else when you're dating."

"isn't that illegal?"

HELLO??? he thinks cheating is ILLEGAL??? you had to spend the rest of your date trying not to cry or hug him because he ended up finding out some devastating news.

"yes... cheating is illegal unfortunately."

"I don't know why. it should be illegal, that is a very bad thing to do 😦 do people actually cheat? really? no way."

UGRHGRGR you two end up dating and he's the sweetest guy you've been with. cute date nights, reassurance that you're perfect and enough, handmade gifts and deep talks into the night that deepen your bond together... the only problem is just that maybe he's a little too sweet.

he's constantly buying you gifts, telling you how much he appreciates you and just... being the perfect boyfriend? the perfect clingy boyfriend.

at first you found it cute. but...

why is he so in love with you? why is he so nice? you don't know what to do with a man as sweet as him and can only give into his seemingly harmful actions. you used to think that he had an ulterior motive but... you don't know whether you're being deceived or not. why would you? he's not being manipulative. how could he ever be manipulative? he's just a sweet and nice green flag!

asking you to always be with him? that's just a romantic thing everyone else says. chasing away any people who shows the slightest bit of interest, even if it's not confirmed to be romantic? what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't do that? asking for your location if you ever try to go out without him? silly lover, why would you worry him like that?

no no, he's not being possessive. okay, maybe he is. it's just a tiny bit though! surely you're fine with that. after all, he's still treating you like the royalty that you are. he should be allowed some grace for his unwillingness to share.

you're not sure whether or not he's truly innocent or not. was he even innocent to begin with? maybe, maybe not. perhaps it was all just an act...

but you shouldn't think that. why would you think badly of your boyfriend who's only ever been sweet to you? even during fights, he doesn't raise his voice and actively listens to you, trying to resolve the issue. he could never want to hurt you.

after all, he's your innocent boyfriend that you're smitten with, right?

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #innocent yandere #innocent yandere x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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ivyues · 2 days ago

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Anxious Introductions: Stray Kids’ reactions to their S/O being nervous to meet the members

Bang Chan

Chris had been trying to bring up the subject of you meeting his members for weeks, but you always seemed to shy away whenever he mentioned it.

"Hey, they’re just as nervous to meet you as you are to meet them," he says softly.

You nod, taking a deep breath. "I just know how much they mean to you, and I want it to go well."

His smile grows warm, and he leans in to hug you. "You mean so much to me too. They’ll see how amazing you are."

The day you finally meet them, he keeps an arm around your waist, introducing you like it’s the proudest moment of his life. The members greet you with wide smiles, Chris whispering, "See? Told you they'd love you."

Lee Know

As you fix your hair nervously for the third time, your boyfriend smirks from his spot on the couch. "You’re this anxious to meet them? I should be offended" he teases, his tone light. "You're going to be fine. You already survived Han Jisung."

What you don’t know is that Lee Know had already had a talk with the other members earlier. He had casually, but firmly, told them, Don’t scare her off. It wasn’t a full-on threat, but the members knew better than to push their luck.

When you walked into the dorm, you’re surprised by how calm everyone seems. They greet you warmly, none of the overwhelming antics Han had warned you about.

"See? Nothing to worry about," Lee Know whispers smugly, his shoulder warm against yours. Though, over the course of your next visits, the true nature of their antics slowly revealed itself to you.

Changbin

Changbin glances over at you in the car and notices you biting your nails, a telltale sign of your nerves. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches over to gently take your hand away from your mouth.

"Hey, don’t do that," he says softly, intertwining your fingers with his. "You’re way too amazing to be this nervous."

You give him a small, shy smile, but he’s not done. "Seriously, you’re smart, funny, beautiful, and my mom likes you already – and she hasn’t even met you. The members don’t stand a chance; they’re going to love you."

When you arrive at the dorm, he keeps his hand on the small of your back as he opens the door.

"Guys!" he calls dramatically, a wide grin on his face. "Meet my amazing girlfriend!"

The sudden loud introduction makes you shrink back slightly, your cheeks flushing as you glance at the group of curious but welcoming faces looking your way.

Hyunjin

As you nervously bite your lip, your mind races about what to expect from meeting Hyunjin's members. The more you think about it, the more anxious you become. Hyunjin notices, his eyes softening. He gently takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey, it's okay," he says in a soothing voice, guiding you toward the door. "They’re really excited to meet you, and they’re not as scary as you think." He smiles, his voice low and comforting.

You glance at him, managing a nervous smile. "I just don’t want to make a bad first impression," you admit softly.

He squeezes your hand again. "You’re going to be fine," he reassures you. "Just be yourself."

When you walk inside, the members greet you enthusiastically, but the nervous energy is still radiating off of you. Hyunjin stands close to you, subtly nudges you and, with a playful glint in his eye, whispers, “See? They’re just like me – except a little louder.”

Throughout the evening, he stays by your side, always checking in to make sure you're okay. As the members warm up to you, you start to feel more comfortable, smiling at their funny tendencies.

Han

Han’s excitement is contagious. He’s practically dragging you towards the dorm, rambling about how cool his members are and how cool you are.

"They’re going to love you!"

When you hesitate at the door, he grins mischievously. "Honestly, I’ve already told them everything about you. They probably know you better than I do at this point."

When you give him an awkward smile, he grins. "That means they are propably going to tease me, not you."

The moment you walk in, the members indeed start to playfully tease him. "Finally, we meet the famous girlfriend Han won’t shut up about!" Hyunjin laughs.

You find yourself laughing, making your nerves disappear, as Han dramatically protests, "I didn’t talk that much… okay, maybe I did. But you would too if you had an girlfriend that amazing!"

Felix

Felix notices the way you’re nervously smoothing out your clothes. He gives you a warm hug, his voice soft and soothing. "I know you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. You’re everything to me, and they’ll see that too."

You glance at him, biting your lip. "I just... I know they’re protective of you, and I get it. You’re so kind, and I don’t want them to get the wrong impression."

He gives you a warm smile. "They’ll love you. How could they not? But if it helps, just focus on me, okay?"

When the door opens and the members’ boisterous voices echo through the hallway, you freeze slightly, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Felix squeezes your hand reassuringly and gently tugs you forward.

"Guys, this is my girlfriend," he says with quiet pride, his voice cutting through the chatter.

Despite your nerves, the members’ smiles and welcoming energy slowly ease the tension. Felix stays close, occasionally brushing your hand with his or sneaking you a small grin.

Seungmin

Seungmin doesn’t say much about your nerves but quietly prepares for it. On the way, he shares a bunch of embarrassing stories about the members to make you laugh.

"Just remember – they’re the weird ones, not you," he says with a small smirk.

When you meet the members, his calm presence feels grounding, like an anchor amidst the unfamiliar chaos. The members immediately start asking you questions and trying to make conversation – partly because they’re genuinely curious about you and partly to tease Seungmin.

He’s surprisingly talkative, steering the conversation to keep things flowing smoothly. Every now and then, he looks over at you with a reassuring smile, silently letting you know he’s there for you. You find yourself relaxing, thanks to his steady presence and subtle encouragement.

I.N

I.N notices your silence as you both approach the dorm, your hands nervously clasped together. He gives your hand a squeeze and flashes you a boyish grin.

"Don’t worry, they’re just a bunch of big kids – except for me, obviously," he says with a teasing tone.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "You being their baby doesn’t help. If anything, it makes it worse."

He laughs, the sound light and teasing. "Okay, fair. But if I’m their baby, that just means it's a bigger thing that I'm bringing you over. You? You’ll be safe."

He grabs your hand and confidently introduces you, showering you with compliments in front of the members. "See? My girlfriend is amazing!" You can’t help but smile at his infectious energy.

masterlist

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dc-comics-enjoyer · 2 days ago

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Superman turns into a total idiot around Batman - not because he’s scared of him, but because, well... the guy’s terrifyingly hot. Like, Bruce just needs to stand there brooding in the shadows, and Clark’s brain goes straight to static.

At the very start of their collaboration, Batman is extra worried. The fact that the most powerful being on Earth trips over his words, laughs at jokes that aren’t even jokes, and forgets basic Kryptonian science mid-conversation is worrying.

To Batman, the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is an idiot is worrying.

Clark’s completely fine though, he's an actual genius. It’s just that Batman is unfairly attractive, and it’s hard to think straight when someone that competent, that sharp, and that ridiculously gorgeous is glaring at you from beneath a cowl.

#dc #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #superbat #my post #hc #headcanons #comics #headcanon #superman x batman

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muniimyg · 3 days ago

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*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

friday night.

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god.

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is?

you’re coming over.

you.

st4rg1rlyni3.

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment.

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly.

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink.

seeing it on you?

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing.

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense.

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you.

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing.

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now.

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream.

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind is filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast.

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful.

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious.

to everyone.

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in.

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps.

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod.

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool.

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter.

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there.

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this.

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different.

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded.

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late.

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again.

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now.

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile.

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine.

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive.

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable.

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying.

almost.

#bts smau #jungkook fic #jungkook scenario #jk meet cute

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 days ago

Text

Protector (NSFW)

AN: This is long so be prepared 🫣

Synopsis: You and Joe had been infatuated with each other since you were both fourteen years old. Something happens in your senior year, causing you to have to break up with him and also making you have to hold onto a secret; giving birth to his firstborn child that he never knew existed.

Pairing: Ex-boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The sun visor in your car came down with the swift movement of your hand so you could gaze in the mirror at your appearance. After applying another layer of lip gloss, you straightened out your necklace that contained his initial which was gifted to you from him on your sixteenth birthdays.

First it was meant for him, Joseph.

Now it was also meant for the little one you two made who wasn't quite so little anymore, Julian.

And after more than ten years, you still had it.

The only time it ever left its rightful place was when you had to clean it.

You still remember the conversation that you had when the two of you were just fifteen about the future that you planned to share with one another.

The two of you were laying down in Joe's backyard on one of the many blankets that your grandmother had knitted staring up at the night sky. It was one of your favorite past times between the both of you.

“So, what are we naming our kids when we have them?” Joe asked as he looked down to see you pick up your head from his chest to look at him.

“Hmm, never thought about it until just now.”

“After we're married of course. I'll be playing in the NFL and you'll be an aerospace engineer at NASA.”

“I don't know if I'm smart enough for all that.” You replied and Joe instantly frowned from your response.

“You are smart enough. Stop talking about yourself like that and selling yourself short.”

“Fine, I'm going to be an aerospace engineer at NASA.”

“That's better and I just thought of a name.”

“Tell me. But we need a name for a boy and a name for a girl so whichever one comes first we'll be ready.”

“I like Julian for a boy. His name will start with a J like mine.”

“You don't want him to be named after you?”

“No, I want for him to be able to have his own identity.”

“Good point and I like Julian too. Now for a girl.” You said as you adjusted to make yourself more comfortable.

“Juliet since you like Romeo and Juliet so much and I have no idea why.”

“Um, correction! I like the movie with Leonardo Dicaprio, there's a difference. Because truth be told they were both stupid as hell. How can you love someone after you've known them for like 2 hours?”

“Are you going to leave him for me?” Joe playfully asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Joseph, don't be stupid. It's us until the end of time, you know that and he is way too old for me.”

As you closed the mirror, you turned around to look in the backseat to see your son looking down playing his game and you called his name to get his attention.

“Julian.”

“Yes, mom?”

He looked up at you with those same blue eyes that his father had and you quickly sighed.

“Let’s make this quick so we can get in and out. Did you still want spaghetti for dinner?” You planned on staying the night at your sister's apartment before making the two hour drive to Cincinnati to your new house. You told her that you would cook dinner since she told you she couldn't even boil a pot of water.

Just like it was when she was 14.

“I guess.” He told you as he shrugged.

“What's that look for, bubs?”

When he was quiet, you immediately knew.

“I know you're nervous about us moving and starting at a new school, but you'll be fine. And besides, you have football camp in a few weeks to look forward to, that your aunt was nice enough to sign you up for.” You told him and he sighed but nodded his head nonetheless.

After you had gotten pregnant your senior year in high school, your mom was the first one to find out and within a week, you were in Texas with your grandmother and refusing to have an abortion like both of your parents wanted.

You had been there ever since.

After finishing high school with literally a month left, you went off to go to Texas A&M University on a full scholarship and then onto Harvard online to do your masters. From that time, you stopped talking to your parents and in turn they didn't allow you to talk to your siblings, Sabrina and Ryan.

You were one of the top engineers at your job in Texas and they recently opened a new facility in Cincinnati and asked you if you would be willing to transfer to get it off the ground.

It took you three months to finally make a decision.

The final thought as to why you were willing to do it had everything to do with Julian.

He was getting older and just about every week he was asking about his father.

His father, who was in fact Joe Burrow the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals.

Who also happened to be his favorite player who he was obsessed with.

He didn't know about Joe and Joe didn't know about him.

But that wasn't by choice.

It all boiled down to your parents as well as his, but mainly his mother.

Your younger sister had begged you to come and see her once she messaged you after she found your account on social media once you told her you were moving back to Ohio. However, you made her promise not to tell your parents. If she uttered a word, you would have no problem cutting her off because protecting yourself as well as your son was your main priority.

“Can we make brownies too?”

“With vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce on top.” You replied as you stuck your pinky finger out for him to wrap his around yours.

–

Robin did a double take as she noticed you in the aisle comparing two brands of pasta and could feel the color drain from her face.

She knew it was you, there was no denying it. You looked the same, but more mature.

She wanted to leave the aisle as soon as possible, but it didn’t quite work out that way since she also needed a box of noodles for dinner.

Hoping you wouldn't take too much notice of her, she made her way over and picked up the brand that she had always bought when you suddenly turned around and she caught your eye.

The expression that flashed across your face was unreadable as you were analyzing her. You were staring at one of the four people that had ripped your future away from underneath you.

The future that you and your boyfriend had planned in high school.

She was the first to speak and you were surprised she was even speaking to you at all. Considering what she had done.

And how much she didn't like you.

“Y/N?”

“Mrs. Burrow.” You flatly said as you threw the box of pasta in your basket.

“I… it's nice to see you.”

“Hmm.” You told her and quickly noticed that you had lost sight of Julian, but more than likely he was somewhere in the candy aisle. But to your surprise you heard his voice from behind you.

“Mom!? Can I get fruit loops!?”

When Robin set her eyes on who she assumed was her grandson, there was absolutely no denying it.

He looked similar to her youngest son except for the fact that he had curly hair which she assumed he got from you. Everything else was Joe up and down.

“You can get the small box.” You replied as you smiled at him go back down the aisle and turned back to Joe's mother.

“Does Joe know you're here?” She said in a soft voice and you were confused on why she even cared.

“What difference would it make if he did?”

“Is he…?” She asked assuming she was talking about Julian and wanted confirmation.

“He's nine and will be ten in December so you do the math and I know you see the resemblance. But for now I'm going to go so I can feed my child. Don't worry, everything is all still going according to your plan. But it's getting kind of hard to keep this a secret, right? I mean paying off your son's girlfriend's parents to keep them and her quiet about the pregnancy so that his future wouldn't get derailed.”

“Who told you that? And I did it for the both of you.”

“Bullshit. You never liked me to begin with and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out and it doesn't matter who told me. You always had it in your mind that I wasn't good enough for him. All I know is that my son is going to know his father one way or another and there is nothing you'll be able to do about it. Good luck begging him for forgiveness. I hope you have a good night.”

Without another word you walked away from her and found Julian in the next aisle holding his box of cereal and browsing the candy aisle just as you suspected.

“We're making brownies, King Julian. So, no candy.” You said as he turned around to look at you.

“But I also need a snack before dinner and who was that lady you were talking to?”

“Stop trying to change the subject and no you don't.”

“Yes I do and I noticed she kept staring at me.”

“She wasn't anyone that you need to worry about because she isn't important and you can get one other thing. Now come on, your Aunt Sabrina is waiting for us.”

“Is she younger or older than you?” Julian asked as he grabbed a Snickers bar.

Just like his father.

“Younger and how old do you think I am?”

“Well I know you're old enough to have wine so you have to at least be 21. How old is she?”

“25.”

“Oh, never mind then.”

–

“I just can't get over how big he is and how much he looks like Joe.” Sabrina told you as the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table and her gaze was on Julian in the living room watching Netflix.

“The older he gets, the more and more he looks like him. Guess who I ran into at the store before coming here?”

“Who?”

“His mother. She saw me first.”

“Oh shit. And what did she say!? I know for a fact she never liked you. Anyone could see that.” Sabrina asked as her eyes went wide.

“First she was like it's good to see you and then asked if he knew I was here and I asked her what difference would it make if he did? And I basically told her to get out my face. And you’re right, she never liked me and I know for a fact that she thought I wasn't good enough for him or dare I say it the right ‘fit’”.

“I still can't believe how everything went down and how they never told him. Like that's their grandson. You two were supposed to be end game.”

“I know and I just… I hope when I gather the courage and strength to tell him that he wants to be in his life. Julian keeps asking about him and all he talks about is how he's his favorite player. I also hope that Julian won't despise me for not telling him.”

Little did you know that Sabrina had signed Julian up on purpose for the football camp. Not only because you told her how he loved to play but because she knew that Joe was hosting it along with Ja’Marr and Tee. She was going to make sure Joe knew sooner rather than later about how his ex-girlfriend fell off the face of the earth with his kid.

This had gone on long enough and wanted to see her big sister get her redemption story.

“From what I've seen, I think Julian will ultimately be relieved. It wasn't your fault to begin with and it's not like you hid it from him on purpose. And our parents were dead fucking wrong with how they treated the entire situation and I'm sorry that happened. I know I'm not responsible, but I also lost my big sister in all of that. And I'll never forgive them for it. It was like you disappeared off the face of the earth. And I never stopped asking about you.”

“I figured that out of everyone that you would. So when you messaged me, I got excited, not going to lie.” You said being completely honest.

“I only talk to them if it's absolutely necessary. The entire dynamic changed when you left. Do you ever think you'll talk to them? Can't blame you if you decide not to.”

“Probably not the best idea to talk to the people who wanted you to abort your kid.”

“Hmm, I guess not and you make a good point. But enough about that, what have you been up to? Do you really work for NASA?”

“Yes, as an aerospace engineer.”

“Like you always wanted. You were always smart as hell and could run circles around all of us. Only thing I know how to do is hair and make up. The parents were very mad when I dropped out and went to cosmetology school.”

“At least you figured out what you wanted to do and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. There are still people who are 45 years old and don't know.”

“Good point.” You told her as she got up to get the brownies out of the oven that all three of you had taken part in making earlier.

“Oh and the day of football camp is my orientation so I won't be able to take him. Do you think you'll be able to?” You asked and Sabrina tried not to show the disappointment on her face.

“Yeah, sure.”

“But I should be there by lunch time. So I can see him play for the second half of the day. He's really excited to go.”

“Perfect! And I'm really excited too since I have never seen him play before.”

The wheels immediately started to turn in Sabrina's head and she just hoped and prayed that everything was going to work out exactly how she wanted it to.

The day of football camp, Julian had been bouncing off the walls from the moment he woke up. As promised, Sabrina stayed over the night before so that she wouldn't have a long morning in rush hour traffic trying to get to your house and then eventually the stadium on time.

To her surprise, when she got there and signed Julian in, Joe was nowhere in sight but she was still holding out hope as she looked over at Julian in his black jersey with his rightful last name across the back of it.

She learned last night that he had a jersey in every color, which had been your doing of course.

You had explained to her that every day was a battle on if the day finally arrived that you were going to tell him the truth. I mean what possible harm could it do at this point? When you were younger, you had been terrified of your parents, but not anymore and you were done keeping your son a secret.

When you finally gave birth to him on December 10th which also happened to be your birthday along with Joe's, you were instructed to not even give him the Burrow last name which was a part of the deal that was made between both sets of parents.

A deal that neither you nor Joe was a part of.

And none of them showed an ounce of remorse for what they had done.

About two hours or so into the day, Joe made his way to Paycor stadium since Ja'Marr had asked him and Tee to participate in a football camp with him for kids ages 5 to 17.

Tee had sent a text to let him know where they were and after parking his car and walking into the stadium he made his way over and was immediately greeted by the both of them.

“Joe, we think we found your long lost son.”

Ja'Marr joked with him as he gave him an eye roll in return.

“What in the world are you talking about? It is too early for your nonsense and Tee is no better for going along with you.” Joe told him and Tee held his hands up in defense.

“Now what did I do!?” Tee exclaimed while looking at him.

“An entire list so don't get me started now what kid are you talking about?” Joe asked and he followed Ja'Marr’s gaze to see.

“That one and look at that, he plays quarterback.”

“He is literally you with curly hair and freckles.” Tee added as he would glance at Julian and then glance back at Joe comparing the two.

“What's his name?” Joe curiously asked as he was watching him do drills.

It was almost as if he was looking in a mirror.

“Mm, Julian I think.”

Hearing the name out loud made a wave of emotions come rushing back towards Joe and he was trying to do his best and not be upset about it.

That was the name you two decided that you were going to name your baby boy whenever it happened.

Because Joe had been dead set on marrying you and he didn't want anyone else.

He still thought about you every day and knew that deep down he would probably never get over not knowing what happened to you and what made you suddenly break up with him for no reason.

It didn't make sense then and it still didn't make sense now and no matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around it, he just couldn't.

He tried to move on multiple times, but he found himself always comparing his girlfriends to you no matter how hard he tried not to.

You meant absolutely everything to him and you were one of the very few people who believed that he would go on to do amazing things in college and eventually the NFL. From day one, your nickname for him was superstar or MVP.

“Wait…..” Joe started to say, but his focus was now solely on Julian.

“What?”

"Me and my ex-girlfriend picked out the name Julian for our son when we were in high school.” He said nonchalantly as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Uh? You didn't get her pregnant did you?”

“No, she definitely would have told me. But it was weird because one day we were planning our future together and the next she was breaking up with me. The entire thing never made sense. I literally haven't seen or heard from her since we were 17. What's his last name?”

“Deveraux.”

At that very moment as soon as the name left Tee’s mouth, Joe thought that he was going to throw up.

Ja'Marr and Tee both looked at him confused.

“Uh? You okay over there?”

“No. That's her last name.” Joe quietly said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I… well maybe it's a coincidence.”

“How!?! That isn't a common last name!”

“And you having a mini meltdown isn’t helping the situation either. We’ll figure it out later when camp is over. For now we need to break them off into groups based on their age and get them ready to play against each other.”

The camp was only supposed to last from 9 am until 3 pm and as promised, you were actually allowed to leave early and looked down at your phone to see that Sabrina sent you the address to where it was held. Once you put it into your GPS since you were still learning your way around Cincinnati, the Paycor stadium popped up on your phone and you did a double take.

No.

Absolutely not.

But you also thought, it was still the off season and training camp wouldn’t start for a few more weeks. The likelihood of you actually running into him was slim to none. So that way you still had time to process and run through what you were going to say to him when you actually saw him.

Because it was bound to happen one way or the other.

All because his mom saw you and will more than likely tell him but fail to mention the child that you two share.

Once you got there, you spotted Sabrina’s car and quickly backed in next to her before making your way to one of the many gates that surrounded it to make your way inside. Once you told them you were here for your son, one of them was nice enough to walk you over to the field where all the parents were gathered. You quickly spotted Sabrina and she waved you over.

“Sabrina….”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you mention that the camp was going to be held here and hosted by several Bengals players?”

“Oh, that? Um, I didn’t realize until we got here.”

“You were always bad at lying so I suggest you change your answer.” You told her as you crossed your arms and looked out towards the field and spotted Julian.

“Okay fine. I figured the sooner that Joe knew about Julian, the better. As soon as I saw that they were doing a camp before they started training camp in a few weeks, I immediately signed him up. And this was right after you told me that you were moving back here.” She whispered to you and you let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet. He probably still hates me for what I did to him.”

“But that wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that. Like you didn’t see the look on his face when I broke up with him. He looked so confused and hurt and I couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to. I was doing it because both sets of parents made me. Have you even seen him yet?”

“Yes and he cut off all of his hair and dyed it blonde…. Again.”

“I remember when I dyed it blonde for him our senior year.”

“And got it all over our bathroom. Good times.”

“But, take a deep breath. He probably misses you more than you know.” Sabrina told you as she tried giving you words of encouragement but all you were doing was trying not to have a panic attack.

“He’s probably moved on and honestly when I think about it, it’s probably for the best. Hopefully it’s someone that his parents approve of.”

“Will you stop talking down about yourself? You were his first love and I’m sorry, that doesn’t go away overnight, it just doesn’t. The two of you were attached at the hip and I know for a fact that the two of you can get back to that and raise Julian together. Also, I want to be a bridesmaid when the time comes.”

“SABRINA!”

“What?!?! I’m just being honest. “

“A lot has to occur for that to even happen.”

“How much do you want to bet he has a ring picked out for you? And I see you’re still wearing the necklace he gave you on your 16th birthday with his initial. So, I rest my case.”

Sabrina knew for a fact that he had a ring for you since the day after you left because she had seen it, he immediately cornered her in a hallway at school to see what happened. At that time, she didn’t know, but all she did know was that your room was empty and that she was missing her big sister.

As Joe had finished helping the kids in his group put on the flags to get ready to start the game, he jogged to the sideline and as soon as he looked to his left, his jaw hit the floor and he started hitting Ja’Marr’s arm.

“OW! What is going on?!”

“That’s her and her sister Sabrina. Fuck that’s her, it’s really her.”

Ja’Marr followed his gaze and saw you talking to who he assumed was your sister and his eyes went wide.

“I… wait a minute…. Y/N is black?!”

“Uh yeah why is that important?” Joe asked him as Tee had come to stand next to them.

“It’s not…. I just wasn’t expecting her to look like THAT. I thought you said Athens only had like 2 black people? Damn, she’s pretty, how did you pull that?”

“Seriously?” Joe asked and Ja’Marr held his hands up in defense.

“I should have known the way you were eating that fried chicken you had been around some seasoning before in your life."

“Wait…. THAT’S HER?!” Tee asked and they both nodded.

Tee took a moment to look at Julian, you, and then Joe and simply nodded his head.

“You the baby daddy, alright.”

“Joe, stop trying to hide behind me, YOU’RE TALLER THAN ME. And did you forget you just dyed your hair? Y/N can probably spot you from a mile away.”

“I don’t know what to do! Should I go and talk to her?”

“For one of your nicknames to be Joe Cool, that is definitely the opposite of what is happening right now. Yes! Go and talk to her when we’re done or when the kids eat lunch.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?” He asked and they both just looked at him.

“Are you a hormone raging teenage boy again? I highly doubt that she wouldn’t want to talk to you.”

Meanwhile, you looked over to where Joe was standing next to Tee and Ja’Marr, and the butterflies in your stomach instantly hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Sabrina, he’s right there.” You told her as you tugged on her arm.

“And I hear wedding bells.”

“Seriously?! Now is not the time.”

“It’s the perfect time actually.”

“What do I say if he comes up to me?”

“Uh? Hi? Have you suddenly lost all of your brain cells? For you to be an aerospace engineer, I wouldn’t actually be able to tell.”

“That’s different!”

“The kids are about to have lunch anyway so just go up to him then. You actually should have worn less clothing to be honest so he can see what he’s been missing.”

“Uh no, for one there are children around and two, I just came from my new job so that’s a definite no.”

“Changing the subject for a minute, but Julian is actually really good.” Sabrina said as he watched him run down the field for a touchdown.

“Well, look at who his dad is.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Did he always want to play quarterback?”

“Mm hmm, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What do you think his reaction will be when you tell him?”

“I honestly don’t know. I know my baby like the back of my hand, but that I’m not quite sure about.”

“The baby who is almost taller than you by the way.”

“If he’s only nine now, I can’t imagine how tall he’s going to be when he stops growing.”

“How tall is Joe?”

“6’4.”

“Oh, so we have a little ways to go.”

When the first game had come to an end, Julian spotted you and ran straight into your arms.

“Hi bubs, are you having fun?”

“Yes! Thank you Aunt Sabrina for bringing me!”Julian said as he was still holding onto you but turned towards your sister.

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

“Mom, before we leave do you think Joe will sign my jersey for me?”

“I'm sure he will if you ask him.”

Sabrina got a small smile on her face as she saw Joe walking up behind you.

“Julian, look. There he is, go and ask him.”

As soon as she said that, the butterflies that had been in your stomach the first time you saw them were there once more.

As you turned around, you were met with the sight of your ex boyfriend that you hadn't laid eyes on in person in close to ten years.

“Um, hi Mr. Burrow, could you sign my jersey for me?” He shyly asked as he held up the orange Bengals jersey with Joe's number on the back of it. He made sure to wear the black one, bring the orange one, and the white one was hanging up in his room on the wall while the other white one was hanging up in his closet.

“Of course I can. What's your name?” Joe asked Julian as he handed him the jersey along with a marker.

“Julian and I play quarterback just like you do. You're my favorite player and I've watched you ever since you played at LSU.” He proudly told him and Joe had to laugh to himself.

Julian had literally been watching him since he was 4 turning 5 and had been intrigued ever since.

“Really? Wow, that's a long time ago.”

“I want to play in the NFL one day like you and thank you for signing it.” He confessed as Joe handed him back his signed jersey and squatted down to his level.

“You're welcome and if you practice and work really hard, there is no reason why you can't make that happen. And listening to your mom is also going to help.” Joe told him as he glanced up at you and winked.

Okay so maybe he wasn't mad like you thought he was going to be.

Julian eagerly nodded as Sabrina grabbed his hand and started to pull him in the other direction.

“Now come on and let’s get in line for some food. Your mom has something that she needs to take care of.” Sabrina said and you looked at her confused.

“Wait, what?”

She grabbed Julian’s hand and mouthed to you ‘talk to him’. Once they were both out of earshot, you heard his voice.

“It’s really you.” He quietly said and you simply nodded.

“And it’s really you.” You replied as your necklace caught Joe’s eye.

“You still have it…” He said more as a statement then as a question as he reached up to play with the charm.

“I'm wearing it for two people now. Joseph Lee and Julian Oliver. Only time I take it off is to get it cleaned and then it goes right back on.”

Joe nodded his head and looked in the direction of where Julian was standing next to Sabrina, you followed his gaze and sighed.

“Yes.” You quietly said and you immediately got a guilty look on your face.

“I…”

“There is so much that I have to tell you and cannot do it in a span of five minutes. But yes. You keep looking at him so I answered your question for you because I know what you're thinking.”

“He looks just like me. How old is he?”

“He’ll be ten on December 10th.”

“The same day as ours.” Joe replied and you slowly nodded your head.

“I know we don’t have a lot of time right now, but please understand that I didn’t break up with you because I wanted to, I did it because I was told to and being a scared teenager doesn’t leave you with a lot of options. Just wanted you to know that.”

Joe slowly nodded his head and you couldn't quite read the expression on his face.

“After the kids are done, can we go somewhere and talk? Just us?”

“Of course, I’ll see if my sister can take Julian.”

“And he has no idea does he?” He asked, referring to Julian and you shook your head no.

“So, all this time?”

“You can be mad at me because I would be too, but I moved back because I was done hiding him. He deserves better than that. I wanted for him to know you and for you to know him because that is ultimately who ended up being hurt by all this.”

“He seems like a great kid. And I expect nothing less if he came from you.”

“He is and he is exactly how I imagined that he would be. Just about everything he does reminds me of you.”

—

Sabrina took Julian without a second thought to give you and Joe time to talk when you had asked her. The two of you decided on one of Joe’s favorite restaurants in the city and made sure that the two of you got a booth in a corner away from everyone else so the goal was no one would bother him.

You were looking over the drink menu, when you could feel Joe staring at you.

“I see some things haven’t changed. Joey, it's not nice to stare.” You told him as you laughed and felt your cheeks heat up and all he did was smile in response.

“Can’t help it if you’re so pretty. Gorgeous now actually. Always been that way.”

“Smooth talker Joe Burrow definitely hasn’t changed.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as both of you were once again scanning the menu when you blurted it out.

“I took a pregnancy test on April 1st because I felt off and before I could tell you, my mom found it.”

“And then what happened?”

“She talked to my dad and in turn both of them talked to your parents...” Joe immediately cut you off.

“Wait, they knew?” He asked and you gave him a slow nod.

“I was told to break up with you and that I had to move in with my grandmother in Texas while your parents paid mine off not to say anything. I only found out about that part last year.”

Joe stayed quiet so you continued.

“So, the day I broke up with you once again, obviously not my choice, a few days later I was on a plane to Texas. My parents said the only way that I would be allowed back in their house was if I got an abortion and I was not allowed to say anything to anyone about it. Of course by now you can see what my answer had been. I haven’t talked to my parents since and I don’t plan to. Looking back on it, I would have done things a little differently.”

“What would you have done differently?”

“Made sure that I told you because that wasn’t fair. You have been thinking for almost ten years that I didn’t want to be with you anymore and that was the furthest thing from the truth and you missed out on knowing your son. We can do a DNA test too to confirm. The last thing that I want anyone to say is that I’m lying.”

When Joe remained quiet, you reached your hand across the table to take his.

“I’m really sorry and I should have told you sooner and…”

“Stop. Y/N just stop.” He told you as he used the other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I know you’re mad….”

“I am mad, but pissed off is more like it but it’s not towards you.”

“Oh.”

“You had to go through that all by yourself when I could have been there. My son doesn’t even know who I am. I mean technically he does, but not in the capacity that I want him to.”

You slowly nodded as you allowed him to let all of his feelings about the situation be known.

“My parents knew I had a kid and did everything they could in order to keep me away from him.”

“And I missed out on nine years… almost ten.”

It almost looked as if Joe was about to cry, but did his best to compose himself.

“And you named him Julian Oliver, just like we both wanted.”

“I did, but I was told that I couldn’t give him your last name since they took the money or whatever.”

“And here I was thinking that I would never see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual, except on the tv when I watch you play of course. I knew from the beginning how good you were and that you playing in the NFL was bound to happen.” You said as you smiled at the thought of you two sneaking out and going to the park near both of your houses and laying down in the grass to look up at the night sky.

“You did and told me from day one even if I didn’t believe it myself.”

“I know this is a lot to take in but…”

“Just tell me everything, it’s just better to get everything all out in the open once and for all.”

“I mean that's the majority of what happened. I lived in Texas, graduated, went to Harvard. Got a job at NASA…” You started to say as Joe cut you off.

“Wait…. Back up, you actually did it?”

“Yes, you are looking at one of the top aerospace engineers at NASA. I moved back because they opened up a new facility here in Cincinnati.”

“I'm proud of you. I always knew you would end up working for NASA.”

“Thank you and this is the first time I've seen Sabrina too. Because I told my parents I wouldn't get an abortion, I couldn't talk to my siblings anymore. They didn't come to my graduation. I mean, I moved when there was literally a month of school left. I didn't go to prom because if I didn't go with you, it wasn't happening. My grandmother was my only saving grace. I didn't want to leave her and come up here, but she told me that would probably be the best thing for Julian. When my mom or dad would call to talk to her, they never asked about me. That was when my grandmother told me that she cheated on my dad and got pregnant with me and she felt that their relationship would go back to the way it was before it happened if they just got rid of me in a sense. They don't know that I know that. So my mother literally hates me and I don’t know who my actual dad is.”

Joe looked at you in disbelief and every time he opened his mouth to say something, he immediately closed it.

“I'm sorry you had to find out that way and sorry that it even happened at all.”

Before answering, you shrugged your shoulders and waved him off.

“It is what it is.”

“Y/N, no it isn't. That is some heavy shit you've been carrying around for ten years. Have you talked to anyone about that?”

“No and I don't want to. What good will it do?”

“You know better. Priorities can include Julian, but also includes yourself.”

“I guess, but not now. It's just… it's hard trying to wrap your mind around the fact that just about everyone in your life hates you and you were essentially a mistake.”

“You've always talked down on yourself and I see some things never change.”

“Sabrina said the same thing.”

“So that obviously means that we're telling the truth. You have always been the smartest and prettiest one in the room and it's still true now.”

“Even if I am, I'll probably never see it that way.”

After the two of you spent at least 2 more hours with each other, you exchanged numbers and it would be decided when and how the two of you would tell Julian.

The thought was exciting, but Joe was also dreading it. What if Julian despised him for not being there for him as well as you?

But for now, the day ended with a lot for Joe to think about.

Seeing you for the first time in ten years

Oh and the biggest one with you and him sharing a child that you were essentially bribed and threatened in a way to stay quiet about.

Knowing that his parents knew the entire time made Joe sick to his stomach.

He also had a feeling that both Ja’Marr and Tee would have their phones in their hands waiting for an update on what had happened. Before he could send the message that he had just typed, Tee beat him to it.

Tee- 👀👀👀

Uno- Spill the damn tea and stop leaving us in suspense

Joe- He's mine

Tee- I KNEW IT

Uno- Soooo I need details on why you didn't know about this….

Joe- My parents paid hers off not to tell me and made her move to Texas to live with her grandmother. And apparently she would only be allowed to move back if she got an abortion and of course as we can all see, she didn’t

Tee- YOUR PARENTS KNEW!?

Uno- This is some Tyler Perry movie shit 😫

Joe- They knew and pissed off doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I missed out on damn near ten years of my son's life. He has no idea who I am

Tee- Technically he does know who you are

Uno- But still that shit is CRAZY. So are the two of you going to tell Julian?

Joe- Yeah, but I'm getting a DNA test first because Y/N won't take no for an answer and I get it. I know he's mine and she does too obviously but that way no one will be able to say anything about it. We have to decide when we're going to tell him. I don't know how he's going to take it.

Uno- Whatever you need from us, we got you

Tee- Ditto

Joe- Appreciate it. First thing I need to do is confront my parents and ask them why they kept this from me

About a week or so passed and Joe had been ignoring the calls from his parents. He would talk to them a few times a week, but ever since he found out they knew about Julian, he really didn't know what to say to them.

However, he did promise to have Sunday dinner with them and he planned on confronting them and getting this out in the open once and for all.

There Joe was sitting at the dinner table with his parents and pushing his food around on his plate. Both Jimmy and Robin noticed and they exchanged a glance with one another before Jimmy asked if he was okay.

“Joe, you okay over there? It's one of your favorite meals and you've barely even touched it.”

“You know what, dad? No, I'm not okay.” He replied as he set his fork down and looked at him.

“Why? Did something happen?” Robin asked and he was doing his best in order not to roll his eyes.

“Something did happen and I don’t like being lied to.”

“Who lied about something?”

“Apparently the two people who have the title of being my parents tried to hide the fact that I have a child who is damn near ten years old. So, no one was going to say anything?”

Joe looked at both his parents in anticipation as the question he asked them lingered in the air.

When both of them were quiet, he spoke up again.

“Oh, so no one has anything to say?”

“Joseph, we did it to protect you as well as your future.” Jimmy finally spoke up as Robin remained quiet.

“Protect me from what exactly? Because that literally makes no fucking sense and you know it.”

“I don't care how old you are, watch your mouth when you talk to us.” Robin said as she crossed her arms and finally looked at him.

“I can't believe you two, but especially you. When Y/N broke up with me which I learned was your doing all along I came and confided in you not knowing what you had actually done. And let me ask, were you ever going to say anything?”

“I….”

“Never mind because whatever excuse you're about to pull out of your ass isn't worth it.”

“JOSEPH LEE BURROW!”

“NO, I GET TO BE PISSED OFF NOT YOU TWO. I GOT TO MISS OUT ON THE FIRST NINE YEARS OF MY SON'S LIFE BECAUSE YOU TWO PAID HER PARENTS NOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT AND MADE HER DISAPPEAR FROM MY LIFE. I PLANNED ON MARRYING HER AND I WOULD HAVE DONE IT IF SHE HAD GOTTEN PREGNANT OR NOT.” Joe had been seeing red from the moment he stepped into his parents house and did not plan on backing down.

“We get you're upset, but let's calm down so we can talk.”

“You should have talked to me almost ten years ago. For now, I'm done. But answer this, forget about me for a minute. How could you do that to your own grandchild?”

“We never wanted to hurt you.”

“Hmm, funny. Because the people who did end up getting hurt were me, Y/N, and Julian. That's his name in case either of you wanted to know.”

“I saw Y/N with him about a month ago when I went to the grocery store.” Robin quietly said and Joe just shook his head at her.

“And you didn't say anything!?”

“When I saw him…. He is literally you up and down. There's no denying it. I know that us saying sorry is not going to cut it but….”

“You're right, it's not. Nothing you say is going to cut it or make me forgive you two for what you did. Y/N had NO ONE. She went through that by herself. Her parents shipped her off to Texas because she refused to get an abortion. I don't care what I would have had to do, she meant everything to me and I would have done anything to make sure that they were both okay. Now when we finally do tell him, he's going to wonder why I wasn't there.” Joe stated as he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.

“Joseph…”

“I'm done. I don't want to talk to either of you right now.”

Once Joe was settled in his car, he immediately called you on facetime so that he would have you to keep him company on the long drive home that he had. When he pulled out of his parents driveway, you finally answered.

When Joe's face came into view, you could tell that he was upset and that something had happened.

“Joey? Is everything okay? What's going on?” You asked as you got up to head into your bedroom to be able to talk to him without Julian overhearing.

“I just left my parents house.”

“Okay? What is that look on your face for?”

“I asked them why they lied to me for almost ten years and of course no one had a good answer as to why they did it.” Joe breathed out as he pulled onto the highway.

“Oh and my mom mentioned seeing you about a month ago and failed to tell me anything. They're trying to apologize now but for what? Why even do it at this point? You knew what you were doing from the beginning.”

“I don't want to come in between you and your parents. I know how close you are with them.”

“It doesn't even matter. What's right is right and what's wrong is wrong and in this case they're dead wrong. And they also knew how I felt about you and how important you are to me.”

“Joey… hear me out for a second.”

“I'm listening.”

“Your feelings are completely valid and I'm not downplaying how you feel at all. But instead of focusing on being pissed at them, focus on finally being able to be a part of Julian’s life. He deserves you and you deserve him. I need you to be in the right and the best headspace. Do not come around him with that hanging over your head.”

“I… get it. I'm just… I can't believe that they would do that to me.”

“I know, but good news…”

“What is it?”

“DNA results are back and it's confirmed that you're my baby daddy even though we already knew.” You told him and saw a small smile form on his face.

“Now we just have to decide when we're going to tell him.” Joe told you as he sighed.

“Who knows? It might actually go better than we think it will.” Deep down you were not only trying to convince Joe, but convince yourself.

“But what if it doesn't?”

“Then we'll figure out a plan if it comes down to it. Do you want to wait until after training camp?”

“I was thinking the same thing. And maybe you two can come to the first home game of the season? And then we can go from there.” Joe's heart started to beat faster and he wasn't quite sure if it was nervousness or excitement.

“I like that idea.”

As promised, Joe made sure the two of you had tickets to the first home game of the season and the two of you were going to be directly behind the Bengals bench. Joe wanted you to be in his suite, but you told him that Julian had never been to an NFL game and needed to get the full experience.

Joe had sent you a text earlier saying that he couldn't wait to see the both of you and that the two of you should tell Julian after the game.

There Julian was next to you sitting there in awe and munching on his hot dog as he anxiously waited for the game to start. He dragged you as soon as the gates opened so he wouldn't miss anything. That was when you spotted Joe and a few other players come out the tunnel to come and warm up.

“Julian, look up.” You told him and his eyes immediately went to Joe.

“Mom! He's right there and there's Ja’Marr, Tee, and Andrei.”

“I see and look who's walking over here?” You replied as Joe began walking towards the two of you.

“I don't have anything for him to sign!”

“He signed your jersey already!”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Julian said as he slumped down in his chair and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“Hey Julian.”

“You remember my name?” He asked as his eyes went wide and Joe nodded his head as Julian stood up to stand against the railing.

“Of course I do. And your mom told me that this is your first NFL game in person.” He said as he turned to look at you and wink, making a smile form on your face.

“It is. I usually just watch it at home with my mom.”

“I hope I'm able to see you a lot more this season.”

“Well, you have to talk to my mom, she's the boss.” Julian said and you stifled a laugh.

“I definitely think that I'm going to be able to convince her.”

Julian smiled at Joe as he went back to eating his hot dog and Joe motioned for you to come closer to him.

“Hmm, I knew you would look good in my jersey, but I didn’t expect you to look this good.”

“I figured that you would like it.”

“That’s putting it lightly. So we still on for later?”

“Yeah, I'm cooking so just come by when you're done here and we can go from there. Since it's going to be after the game, I plan on making you a cheat meal. I already texted you the address.”

“I most definitely have missed your cooking so no complaints here.”

“Well ten years have passed and I've gotten a lot better.”

“That isn't all that's gotten a lot better.” Joe told you as he looked you up and down and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Joey, go finish warming up and behave yourself.”

“I am behaving! Just calling it like I see it.”

“I beg to differ.”

Even though the Bengals didn't come away with a win, Julian was still excited nonetheless to be able to go in person. You were now standing in front of the stove while Julian was sitting at the kitchen table and playing on his iPad that you had recently gotten him when the doorbell rang and you knew it was Joe since you could see him on the security camera.

“Bubs, can you go see who's at the door for me?”

“Yes, mom.”

Julian basically sprinted towards the door and when he opened it, his mouth hit the floor.

“Hey Julian, your mom invited me for dinner.”

“I… Uh…” He started to stutter and you suddenly appeared next to him.

“Julian, don't leave our guest waiting outside. Invite him in already.” You said as you smiled at him and he immediately moved to the side so that he could come in.

He had a bouquet of flowers in his hands and quickly gave it to you while also hugging you.

If it was left up to you, you would have stayed in that hug forever.

“Pink roses still your favorite?” He asked and you quickly nodded.

“Yes, still my favorite, but now peonies are high up on my list too.”

“I'll keep that in mind for next time. It smells good in here, what are you making?” He asked as he was now following your lead into the kitchen.

“Tacos. Always a good cheat meal and still one of your favorites?”

“Still one of my favorites.”

Watching both Julian and Joe stuff their faces with tacos was comical. It was the fact that they both fixed their tacos the exact same way and you noticed right away. Being that you were so nervous about how Julian was going to react, you didn't have much of an appetite. When Joe finished, he looked up and made eye contact with you as you then took a deep sigh.

It was now or never so let's get this over with.

“Julian, I have something that I need to tell you.”

“Okay, what is it? Are we still going to the aquarium?”

“Yes, we're still going and it's something else. Something that you have been steadily asking me about for a while.”

“A puppy?!”

“Uh no. Not exactly. Julian, Joe is your dad.” You finally said and he looked confused as he glanced back and forth between the both of you.

“Hold on, I don't get it.”

“It’s taken….” You started to say and he immediately cut you off.

“You knew this the entire time and kept him from me?” Julian asked and you knew that shit had officially hit the fan.

“It wasn't that simple, Julian.” Joe immediately spoke up as he looked at him.

“How is it not? I thought you didn't want me but you've been here the entire time.”

“The difference was that I didn't know about you, it wasn’t the fact that I didn’t want you.”

“Julian, just listen for a minute.” You said but he made a face at you.

“Why should I? What else are you lying to me about?”

“I…”

Without another word, Julian pushed himself away from the table and ran upstairs to his room leaving both you and Joe at the table looking at one another.

“Deep down I knew this was going to happen.” You quietly said as you started to play with the ends of your braids.

“I'll go and talk to him, it'll be fine.” Joe told you as he grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze before standing up and going to talk to Julian.

Joe took the steps two at a time and there was no denying which room was his, seeing as his walls were covered in any and everything Bengals related.

“Julian, can I come in?” Joe asked him as he stood in the hallway in front of his bedroom door.

He nodded as he angrily wiped tears away from his face.

Joe walked in and sat down next to him and sighed.

“I know you're upset, but don't take it out on your mom.”

“But she lied to me.”

“She didn't necessarily lie, she was just trying to protect you. None of this has been easy for her. And I can imagine that it hasn't been easy for you either.” Joe explained to him and Julian quickly nodded letting him know that he agreed.

“She has done an amazing job taking care of you and I'm very thankful to her for it. But now you also have me. If I would have known from the beginning, things would have been a lot different. But we can't do anything about the past. We just have to focus on the future and move forward. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Good now can I get a hug and you go back downstairs and apologize to your mom? I don't think what you said made her feel all that good. And we don't want to hurt her feelings, right? Because you don't like when people hurt your feelings right?”

“No, I don't like it.”

“Now come on so we can get some of the cake your mom made.”

“Okay.” Julian said as he quickly hugged Joe's side and nodded his head.

“I'm glad you're my dad and not Patrick Mahomes. I don't like the Chiefs and I wouldn't be able to fake it either.” Julian added and Joe had to stifle a laugh.

About a month and a half went by and Joe would spend as much time as he could with Julian on his off days seeing as though it was the middle of the season.

It was almost as if no time had passed and Joe quickly fell into the role of being a father. He made sure to call Julian every night before he went to sleep and also used that opportunity to talk to you. Your current thought process was not being sure if rekindling the relationship between the two of you was in the cards. Truth be told, that would definitely be the icing on the cake, but you weren't exactly quite sure what Joe wanted and he didn't mention it to you either. But the most important thing was him having a relationship with Julian.

And for now, you were content with that.

You were currently working from home and it was the early afternoon when your phone started ringing. Glancing down, you saw it was Joe and a wave of butterflies had hit your stomach and quickly answered.

“Yes, Joseph?

“Don't do that. Am I in trouble? You only did that when I was in trouble.” He asked and you laughed as you shook your head.

“Hmm, depends. Have you done something that would warrant you to be in trouble?’

“I don't think so, so let's go with that.”

“Everything okay?” You asked as you plugged in your laptop to prevent it from dying.

“Yeah, it's fine….” Joe started to say and then trailed off and he would always do this if he knew he was about to say or do something that you weren't completely on board with.

“I can still read you like a book. Spit it out.”

“Okay, just…. Keep an open mind with what I'm about to ask.”

“Okay, go ahead. I'm listening.”

“I want Julian to meet my parents.”

It was quiet for a few seconds and even though he couldn't see you, you were shaking your head.

“No.”

“Y/N, just hear me out. Julian has literally only been around you and your grandmother since he was born, right? For the most part?”

“And that wasn't my choice. It was decided for me.”

“He should have the opportunity to know who his grandparents are.”

“The grandparents who wanted NOTHING to do with him? Do I have that right?”

“I know, but they apologized multiple times for what they did. They know how I feel about it. I literally didn't talk to them for almost a month.”

“So, that makes it okay?”

“No, not at all and I told them that. But they are making an effort because they genuinely want to get to know him.”

“They didn't even allow me to give him the Burrow last name and all of a sudden they want to get to know him? Joey, let's be serious for a second. They probably would have NEVER told you that he even existed if it wasn't for me.”

“Y/N, I know this may be difficult for you but we can't change what happened. All we can do is move forward.”

“Your mother fucking HATES me and she always has.”

“No she doesn't! Neither of my parents hate you.”

“He's just getting to know you, give him some time to adjust.”

“Well we wouldn't be going through this if you would have told me.” Joe shot back at you and immediately regretted it once the words left his mouth.

“We wouldn't be going through this if it wasn't for YOUR MOTHER WHO FUCKING HATES ME like I said before!”

“Where did you even get that from?”

“Joseph, don't be dumb. So I'm going to open the door for her also to hate my child that she wanted no connection to from the beginning? No fucking thank you. If I don't talk to my parents what makes you think I want to be around yours when they are just as guilty? And I feel like you're downplaying what they did to me! Did to us! How can you not see that?” You asked as you felt a few tears slip out.

You should have known that it would eventually come down to this. You just didn't think it would be so soon.

As in Joe's parents wanting to be in Julian's life too.

“I'm not trying to make you upset. I just…”

“Too late because you already have. I have work to do, so bye.”

Without another word, you hung up the phone and threw it onto the couch behind you while you were doing your best not to cry even harder.

After you had hung up the phone on him, Joe was at a loss. He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair before sighing and attempting to call you back.

When you didn't answer, he came up with what he thought was the perfect idea to get you to talk to him.

A little over twenty four hours later, your doorbell rang and you checked the camera to see that it was Joe and rolled your eyes.

“Go away, Joseph.”

“Y/N, let me in so we can talk.”

“No.”

“We aren't 17 anymore stop giving me the silent treatment. I know how to bribe you.” He told you as he held up the pizza which you assumed was pepperoni in the camera.

"You're right we're not 17. Which means, I don't give in to your bribes anymore. So there's that.”

"Stop acting like you don't want this pizza and open the door. I also threw in a new telescope for good measure.”

“Wait, you got me a telescope?” You asked as you slowly cracked open the door and peeked your head out.

“You aren't getting it unless you let me in.”

“And what kind of pizza is that?” You asked as you were pointing. You already had a feeling that you knew what it was, but you needed confirmation.

“Your favorite.”

“What's my favorite?”

“What is this? 20 questions? Come on Y/N, let me in already.”

“Then tell me what's in the box!”

“Pepperoni and I got extra ranch on the side now open.the.door.”

“Hmph, fine. But hand over the pizza first.”

“No, not a chance. You're going to take it and slam the door shut. I still know you like the back of my hand.”

You sighed and finally rolled your eyes as you fully opened the door so he could step inside.

Once Joe was fully inside the house, he made his way into the kitchen and set the pizza on the table and went on the hunt to look for plates not knowing if he should take out two or three.

“Where’s Julian?”

“With my sister, so l'm by myself.” You answered as he then took down two plates and brought them over to the table. Opening the box, he slid two pieces on one of them and slid it over to you while also setting the ranch down in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The two of you were eating in silence when Joe finally broke it.

“You know that I never liked fighting with you.”

“I know.” You quietly answered as you picked a piece of pepperoni off your second slice of pizza and popped it in your mouth.

“So can we come up with some type of compromise?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded your head before pushing your plate into the center of the table and giving him your undivided attention.

“I know what they did to us and Julian wasn't fair and I'm not trying to downplay it at all. When I finally did answer the phone and talk to them, I explained how I felt and said that they betrayed my trust which I never thought was going to happen since they're my parents. Your hesitation is valid because mine was too when they had first asked. But the more I think about it, he does need to know who his family is.”

“I get that. It's just…. The main thing in the back of my mind is him getting hurt on the same level that we did.”

“They know that if they did that, that they would never see him again and I made that very clear. Because at first when they asked, I had the same reaction as you did and I said no.”

“Okay, I will do it for Julian and I promise to play nice. When did you want him to meet them?”

“You busy Sunday? All of you can be in my suite at the stadium for the game.”

“I’m not and that sounds like a plan. The last thing I said to your mom when I saw her in Athens was ‘good luck begging your son for forgiveness’ and I also told her something along the lines of her not liking me so this should be interesting.”

“You want me to have security at the stadium on standby?” Joe jokingly asked and you smiled at him while shaking your head.

“No need. Julian is my main priority and that will always be the case. As long as he’s happy and taken care of, I’m more than content with that.”

“That reminds me. It’s going to get cold soon so I wanted to take him shopping for some winter clothes. Has he ever even seen snow before?”

“He’d like that and no he actually hasn’t and I have a feeling that he is not going to like it, but he may surprise me so let’s see.”

“I can do it on my next off day. I’ll pick him up from school so you don’t have to worry about doing it.”

You nodded your head as you were deep in thought and Joe grabbed your hand breaking you out of your trance.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just stop to think sometimes on how our lives might have been different if you had known from the beginning.” You quietly answered as Joe nodded his head.

“I do the same thing. I’m just happy that you finally decided that enough was enough and told me.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know how you were going to take it and I was scared out of my mind. I also thought you still hated me after I broke up with you out of nowhere.”

“I could never hate you, no matter what the circumstances had been. And you didn’t know how I was going to take it? He literally looks like the perfect mix of both of us. I couldn’t deny him even if I wanted to. It’s funny that Ja’Marr and Tee actually noticed first. When they told me his name and I saw you, I started connecting the dots.”

“He’s starting to look like you more and more everyday.”

“I have another question for you and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer it.”

“Go ahead.”

“Would you ever talk to your parents again? Or at least try to find out who your actual dad is?”

“It’s not on the top of my priority list and they knew where I was the entire time. If they really honestly did care about me, none of this would have even happened. Sabrina doesn’t even really talk to them and as for my other siblings, I have no idea. Who knows what lies they told them about me. I honestly think that the only people who care about me are you, Julian, and Sabrina. And I’ve always felt like that.”

“And you know I’ll never stop caring about you.” Joe told you as he kissed the back of your hand before massaging it in small circles.

“I know.” You said with a shy smile.

“But enough about that, it’s finally dark outside and I’ll get the telescope out of my car since you did hold up your end of the deal with letting me in the house and it’s evident that my bribes do still work.”

“Burrow, don’t start.” You said as you pointed to him as he stood up from the kitchen table. He held his hands up in defense before smiling at you.

“Just calling it like I see it.”

–

“Joey! That piece doesn’t go there, it goes over here!”

“That’s not what the picture says!”

“Are you looking at the picture or reading the actual directions?”

“Umm, kinda both.”

“Hand it over to the actual aerospace engineer please.” Joe did as he was told but not before he rolled his eyes and pinched your cheek making you laugh.

“I am so fucking proud of you for making it happen. I always knew that you were going to do it.”

“Thank you, Joey. I can give you credit for telling me to go for it and not sell myself short. Julian was also my motivation. I had to be able to make enough money to take care of both of us.” You told him.

“And now you don't have to worry about doing it all by yourself anymore.”

Once you finished putting the telescope together, the two of you spent some time looking through it until you grabbed one of your fluffy blankets to lay on the deck in your backyard allowing the two of you to lay on it.

It was an usually warm night in October and you figured that you better enjoy it before the winter air kicked in. The two of you were simply gazing up at the night sky which you both did often when you were younger when Joe wrapped his arms around you and you moved to lay your head on his chest.

“I can’t even tell you how much I’ve missed this.” He whispered in your ear as you nodded in agreement.

“Me too.”

“I figured that you would have been married by now and forgot all about me.”

“How could I forget about you when people were saying your name everywhere I turned? And besides, I kept up with what you were doing. I was very excited when you entered the transfer portal and went to LSU. Being a backup quarterback didn’t fit you very well since I knew how amazing you were. And I honestly thought you would have been married by now.”

“You never let me forget it either. And I wasn’t marrying anyone who would be in your rightful place. Only person that I was ever going to make my wife was you. What I told you when we were seventeen hasn’t changed.”

“Just patiently waiting for you to win MVP and I know that it’s coming. And I know Julian would want nothing more than for all of us to be under one roof.”

“I want this with you. We get to do it right this time and no one can tell us no.”

Nodding your head in agreement, Joe turned your head to face him as he leaned over to kiss you. You eagerly kissed him back as both of your hands were exploring each other’s bodies. As Joe took the bottom of your shirt in his hands, he broke the kiss and searched your eyes for permission before he proceeded. When you nodded your head, your shirt was then peeled off of your body and thrown to the side as he comfortably moved you to the side so that he could hover above you.

At this moment, you were thankful for your fenced in backyard and the fact that your house wasn’t very close to anyone else’s. So the likelihood of the two of you getting caught was slim to none.

The next piece of clothing to come off of your body was your bra as Joe started to place several feather-like kisses all over starting from your neck as he worked his way down. His tongue lightly grazed one of your nipples before taking it fully in his mouth and slowly beginning to suck on it making a quiet moan slip from your mouth. He soon switched sides before you tugged on his shirt telling him to take it off. Once he did, he added it to your pile of clothes to the left of you before moving downward and slipping off your leggings that you were currently wearing with nothing underneath.

He quickly spread your legs and settled himself in between them as his mouth finally made contact with your core.

Joe continued to pleasure you as he heard your soft whimpers and inserted one of his fingers as he started pumping it in and out of you. Your hands quickly made a way into his hair as you tried to pull him as close as possible to you.

“Shiiit.” You quietly said as Joe wasted no time adding another finger while his focus was now solely on your clit.

“Mm, Joey.”

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Joe asked as his mouth left your clit for a quick second before going right back to it.

Not being able to utter another word because of how much pleasure you were in, you simply nodded your head.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but before you could tell Joe that you were close, You quickly squirted all over his face, However, he didn’t move a muscle as he tightly held onto your legs and still gave you as much pleasure as possible.

“Baby… mmm… Joey, I can’t….” You told him as you were doing your best to attempt to move away from him so you could somewhat recover from the constant feeling of you hitting your peak over and over again, but he obviously wasn’t letting that happen.

Being as bold as he was, he held eye contact with you the entire time, making you shake your head at him. When he finally came up for air, he placed several kisses all along your thighs before moving back up your body to place a kiss on your lips, which you gladly accepted and gave him several more.

“You are such an ass.” You whispered against his lips and all he did was laugh at you.

“Now, is that how we treat someone who just made you cum not once, but multiple times?”

“Hmm, yes because I know that you aren’t going to do anything else about it, but make me cum more and make me beg for mercy like you just did.”

“Good girl.”

“I see not much has changed.”

“But I see something on you has.” He replied as he began to play with your nipple piercings before leaning down and sucking on them.

“I figured that you would like that.”

“But I know that I’m going to love being inside you more. You ready for me?” He asked as he slipped another finger back into you. He took it back out and eagerly began sucking on it as he peered down at you.

Nodding your head, Joe slipped off his sweatpants along with his boxers and lined himself with your entrance.

“I know that you don’t have a lot of neighbors, but we still need to be quiet. Think you can do that for me, baby girl?”

“Yes.”

“You promise not to make a sound?” Joe asked you as he inserted himself in you at the same time making you gasp.

“Hmm, that wasn’t quiet. Don’t let it happen again.” He whispered in your ear as he began pounding into you.

Your arms had now wrapped around his neck as his head was resting on your shoulder. It was taking everything in you not to make a sound and you knew that as hard as you were biting down on your lip that blood had probably trickled out of it.

A small moan slipped out and Joe immediately stopped his movements and picked his head up to look at you.

“I thought I said not a sound, baby girl? And you were doing so well.” He told you as he pulled all the way out before slamming his hips all the way back in making you gasp.

Joe reached down to sloppily kiss you as he continued to move in and out of you with you trying not to make a sound. Your hands went back around his neck as he movements became sloppier indicating that he was close.

“Joey…. I’m close.”

“Hold it until I tell you to.”

“But…” You quickly protested, but all Joe did was shake his head, indicating that he didn’t want to hear it and that you had better listen to him.

It was taking everything in you to not let go right then and there as he was still going, but when you finally heard his voice, you wasted no time.

“Now you can.” He whispered against your lips as both of you came at the same time. Joe made sure not to finish inside you and his cum was covering the lower half of your stomach before you sat up and caught him off guard with you taking him in your mouth.

“Oh shit, babe.”

He made sure to move your hair out of the way as you continued to pleasure him as you also kept eye contact with him the entire time. The use of your hands also helped when your jaw was quickly becoming tired.

It didn’t take long for you to taste his cum at the back of your throat once he released in your mouth and milked him until the very last drop. Once you were finished, you laid back down on the blanket as Joe laid down next to you before pulling you on top of him and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll give you ten minutes and I think we need to go inside for the second round because I know for a fact that I’m going to have you screaming.” Joe told you as he smirked and leaned over to kiss you.

It was now Sunday and as promised, it was the day that Julian was going to meet his grandparents. You were nervous to say the least, but at this point in time, it is what it is. You and Joe both compromised and you were going to uphold your end of the deal.

Julian actually didn't know that he would be meeting them. All he knew was that he was going to get a chance to sit up in his dad's suite and watch the game.

You and Julian would be wearing matching jerseys, along with jeans and your pandas to top it off.

As you were laying out your clothes to wear later, you got a facetime call from Joe and quickly answered.

“Good morning, Joey.”

“Good morning, my love. You ready for later?” Joe asked as you could see him moving around in his bedroom.

“I should be the one asking you that.” You replied as you sat down on your bed next to your outfit.

“I'm good. About to leave the house in a few. Excited to see you as always. And my baby boy of course.”

“And your baby boy is excited to see you play as always. Wouldn’t stop talking about it from the time that I told him.”

“Where is he? I want to talk to him before I leave.”

“Hold on. Julian! Come here for a second.”

“Coming mom!”

Once he came into your room, he was all smiles as he hugged you before sitting next to you on your bed.

“Someone wants to talk to you.”

“Is it dad!?” He excitedly asked as you handed him your phone.

“See for yourself.”

Once Julian saw his father on the screen staring back at him, his smile got even wider if that was possible.

“Dad!”

“Hey King Julian, I'm excited to see you later.”

“Me too! Me and mom are wearing the white jerseys with our pandas so we can match you!”

“Definitely take a picture once you two get dressed and send it to me. And Julian?”

“Yes?”

“You have to promise me to be on your best behavior today. I know you usually are, but I just needed to remind you. I have some special people coming to the game to meet you.” Joe told him and Julian nodded in agreement.

“I will, I promise.”

“And what's my one other rule?”

“Besides being on my best behavior? Listening and protecting mom.”

“Perfect. I'll see you later, little man.”

“Oh! Can we get ice cream after the game?”

“Yes, as long as mom approves.” Joe answered and Julian immediately turned to you and gave you puppy dog eyes.

“I… how can I say no to a face like that? Of course we can.”

“I want rocky road or no…. Maybe bubble gum…”

“Well there's no rush, you have a few more hours to decide.” Joe replied as you noticed that he was now outside walking to his car.

“Okay Julian, let dad go to work and you need to go downstairs and finish your breakfast.”

“But mom, I want a chili cheese dog.”

“I… Not for breakfast you aren't! I will get you one later, promise.”

“But…”

“Julian, what did your mother say?” Joe asked him as he was now driving.

“To wait until later.”

“So we need to be patient, right?”

“Yes. I'll go finish my food.” Julian said with a slight attitude which Joe quickly caught onto and shut down.

“Lose the attitude this instant or we aren't getting ice cream. Didn't we just have an entire discussion about you listening to your mom?”

He let out a deep sigh before nodding his head in agreement.

“Go ahead and do what she told you to do.”

“Okay.”

Julian handed you back your phone before heading back downstairs and you were once again left with Joe.

“He gets his attitude from you.” You said without hesitation and Joe immediately snorted.

“That is one thing that I can actually agree with. Even though your attitude is just as bad.”

“I… it is not!”

“I will never tell you a lie, babe.”

“I'm ignoring you. But good luck today and as always either way it goes, I'm still proud of you.” You told him and he gave you a small smile in return.

“So if I win, victory kisses and if we lose sympathy kisses?”

Once you had arrived at the stadium with Julian and had gotten settled in Joe's suite, the two of you were there by yourselves for about twenty minutes before his parents made their presence known.

“Hi, Y/N.” Joe's dad was the first to speak and you gave him a small smile. Robin was next to him, but you couldn’t quite read her facial expression.

“Hi, Julian, these are the special and important people that your dad wanted you to meet.” You told him and he turned around in his seat to smile at the both of them.

“This is your grandma and grandpa. Your dad's parents.”

“Wait, dad has parents?”

“Everyone has parents, silly!” You explained to him as both Jim and Robin made themselves comfortable.

Robin finally spoke and pulled you to the side to be able to talk to you.

“Y/N, can we talk?” She asked and you looked to see that Jim was explaining something that was happening in the game to Julian and nodded your head.

“Sure.”

Once the two of you were outside the suite in the hallway, she took a deep breath before saying anything.

“I… first off thank you for agreeing for us to meet and get to know Julian. Because Joe’s original answer was no and I can imagine that yours was the same thing.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I want us to be able to put all of this behind us and move forward. Looking back on what I did, it wasn’t right in the slightest despite me wanting to protect my son. You have always been there for him and I knew that you cared about him. I knew once he knew that you were back in Ohio that it would be the same thing. I don’t think telling you sorry is enough and it will probably never be enough. Joe didn’t even talk to us for like a month and a half when he confronted us about it. Even after all this time, when Joe talks about you he lights up. And he does it even more now that he knows about Julian. I hope that you can forgive us for what we did. I know that it won’t happen overnight and that it will take time, but there is no rush. We want to be a part of Julian’s life and a part of yours.”

Clearly taken aback from what Robin had just confessed to you, all you could do at the moment was nod your head.

“Thank you for telling me that. I always thought you hated me when we were in high school so that was your entire reasoning behind doing what you did. But Joe swears up and down that you don’t.”

“No, I didn’t hate you and I still don’t. All I wanted to do was protect his future and was willing to go to extreme measures to do so. I know we hurt the both of you tremendously. I still think about the night Joe came to me in tears because you had broken up with him because we had told you to.”

“I still remember the look on his face, but he told me that he doesn’t hold it against me and knew for a fact that something wasn’t right about the whole thing. One day we were planning our future with each other and the next, I was breaking up with him.”

“That was definitely a dark time for him and that didn’t help when it spilled over to him going to Ohio State as a backup quarterback.”

“I can imagine.”

“But I just wanted to pull you to the side to talk to you. Now let’s go back in and enjoy the game.” She told you as she leaned in to hug you which you quickly returned.

Once you took your rightful spot next to Julian, he turned to you and asked a question.

“Where are your parents, mom?”

“Not really all that important right now, babe.” You replied and you were actually dreading the day that he found out the entire truth as to why he only had you in his life for so long and no one else.

As the game was quickly underway, the Bengals won the toss, but deferred it to get the ball at the start of the second half. Jim and Robin were both making conversation with Julian and you had to smile at how excited he was to meet them despite your protests. But what you weren't expecting was your actual parents to walk through the door.

“Hi everyone!”

Hearing her voice was like nails on a chalkboard and your flight or fight instincts immediately kicked in. You turned around to see both of your parents staring back at you and wasted no time questioning them.

“Why the hell are either of you here?”

“Now, Y/N is that any way to talk to your parents?” The person who calls himself your father asked.

“You aren’t even my real father, so you can pipe the fuck down.”

“OKAY! WHOA! Y/N, we just reached out to them to see if they wanted to come and watch the game with us since we knew that you were bringing Julian with you.” Jim stepped in to say as he put a hand on your shoulder. Meanwhile, Julian was looking at you confused.

“No. They need to leave immediately.”

“Y/N, why are you so upset? We just wanted to meet our grandson too.” Your mother softly said, making you instantly roll your eyes.

“Neither of you have talked to me since I was seventeen when I first got pregnant with him so what in the world makes you think that you have a right to just show up out of nowhere and talk to him? I don’t even want to have anything to do with either of you and I know for a FACT, my son is not going to be around you either.”

“That was a difficult time for all of us.”

“Difficult for who? You made me break up with my boyfriend at the damn near end of my senior year when I had a MONTH LEFT and move all the way across the country to live with my grandmother. Neither of you came to my graduation or checked up on me to see how I was doing and every time you called to talk to her, she would ask if you wanted to talk to me and the answer was always no. I was literally in the hospital in labor BY MYSELF because grandma was out of town on a business trip. A FUCKING NURSE HELD MY HAND INSTEAD OF IT BEING MY BOYFRIEND OR MY MOTHER. DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME ABOUT IT BEING A DIFFICULT TIME FOR YOU.”

“Okay, Y/N, baby girl I get that you’re upset…”

“No, you don’t know ANYTHING and you need to….. Where’s Julian?” You asked no one in particular and everyone looked around the room dumbfounded and confused just as you were.

“He was just sitting right there. I… maybe the bathroom?”

“He never leaves without telling me because he knows better. SHIT.”

Meanwhile, Julian was wandering the hallways of the stadium by himself when all of a sudden he was spotted by Mama Tee who he met when he also met Ja’Marr and Tee after one of the Bengals home games. She spotted him too and immediately went up to him and was looking around for you.

“Julian? What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s your mom? You look upset?”

“We were in the suite and I met my dad’s parents, but my mom’s parents also came and she got really upset. They started arguing and I wanted to leave. I really want my dad right now.” He told her as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

“I… okay. Well you can’t go to him right this second since he’s playing in the game, but I need to get you back to your mom because she is probably losing her mind. Julian, baby, you can’t walk away and not tell anyone.” She told him as she grabbed his hand and was leading him back towards the suite.

“Dad told me to always protect my mom, but I also know not to interrupt adults when they’re talking so I just left. I don’t want them here and I’ve never seen her like that. I don’t want to be around anyone who has hurt my mom.”

“Okay, how about this? Let’s dial her number so I can tell her that you’re okay and we can go from there.”

Julian nodded his head as she handed him her phone and quickly dialed your number. You answered on the first ring and he could tell that you were upset, not only about your parents, but about him also walking away from you.

“Hello?!”

“Mom!”

“JULIAN OLIVER! Where are you?! You need to get back here NOW.”

“I’m with Mama Tee. She’s walking me back right now.”

“Once you get back here, you are not leaving my sight until you turn eighteen, you understand?” You told him and he nodded although you couldn’t see him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Julian quickly handed Mama Tee her phone back and she could hear your quiet sobs.

“It’s okay, Y/N, he’s fine. Not a scratch on him. He just got upset because you were upset and he wanted to leave. Of course he told me that he wanted his dad, but I told him that he has to be patient and wait until after the game.”

“I never want to argue or deal with confrontation in front of him but all I saw was red when my parents showed up.”

“He also told me that because they made you upset that he doesn’t want to be around them and that they need to leave.”

“Well lucky for him, his wish has been granted because they literally just left. They offered to help look for him, but I said absolutely not.”

“Well, we’re outside the suite now, you can come and get him.” She told you as you quickly hung up the phone before practically running towards the door and opening it to see Julian looking at you with Mama Tee standing behind him.

Julian quickly hugged you and you were squeezing him for dear life.

“Listen to me, do not EVER do that again.” You told him as you grabbed his face for him to look up at you and he nodded.

“I don’t like seeing you upset or seeing you cry. They made you cry.”

“I… well they won’t be a problem anymore, okay? Promise.” You explained as you wiped a few tears that had fallen on Julian’s cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“Okay.”

“Now, get back in there and watch the game with your grandparents. They were worried about you too.”

As Julian went inside the suite to sit back down, you turned back to Mama Tee and smiled.

“I can’t thank you enough for spotting him and bringing him back.”

“Of course, I know he’s a good kid, and his main concern was protecting you but he also told me he knows not to interrupt when adults are talking. He got upset, so he left.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my baby. I swear that I couldn’t have asked for a better first born.”

“You and Joe definitely have one amazing kid.”

It was now close to eleven at night and Joe had tucked Julian in before coming into your bedroom and falling face first onto your bed with you laughing at him.

“Is someone tired?”

“Definitely, but not tired enough not to spend any time with you.” He replied as he moved to lay his head on your chest as you wrapped your arms around him.

“How did your talk with your baby boy go?” You asked because you immediately wasted no time in telling what had happened during the game when you saw him in the tunnel before his presser.

“He knows now that if he becomes upset, he has to tell one of us before simply walking away. He was upset and I get it, because I definitely told him to look out for you which he was doing. It shouldn’t be a problem again. But, my parents were okay?”

“Yes and they apologized about everything and also apologized about my parents because they didn’t even know the full story. They actually gave me hugs and your theory was confirmed.”

“What theory? And I’m sorry that they basically ambushed you. But you know that you have me and Julian to protect you.”

“Your mom told me straight up that she never hated me and yes my two favorite boys.”

“I told you and you didn’t want to believe me.”

“And she wants to not only be a part of Julian’s life but mine too but she knows that this all isn’t going to happen overnight.” You explained to Joe as he began to play with your necklace.

“I’m going to get you a new one.”

“What’s wrong with this one?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just figured I could add a few diamonds to it to give it a little upgrade.”

“Fine, not going to argue about that, but I want it in rose gold.”

“Anything you ask for, if I have the ability to get, consider it yours.”

One year later

“Julian, you want to hold her?” Joe asked as he was cuddling your newborn baby girl, Juliet against his chest and he eagerly nodded.

“Go sit down over there and I’ll hand her to you.”

As he sat down in the corner of your hospital room, he was all smiles as he looked at his dad in front of him as he anticipated holding his baby sister for the first time. From the moment you told Julian that he was going to be a big brother, he stepped into his role and took it very seriously.

“You ready? You have to make sure you support her head.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Joe gently placed her in Julian’s arms and he was in absolute awe.

“She’s so little. Hi Juliet, I’m your big brother, Julian and I love you so much already.” He told her as she cooed and looked up at him with her brown eyes.

Joe recorded the entire interaction on his phone and when he was finished, placed a kiss on top of your head.

“We really did it.” He whispered in your ear as you looked at him confused.

“Did what, babe?”

“We finally got our happy ending. We’re together, married, and have our Julian and Juliet.”

“And it only took maybe ten years.”

“Doesn’t even matter how long it took, we made it happen. Still can’t believe that everyone in the house has the exact same birthday. Now what are the odds?”

“I know like that is literally insane. Now we have four birthdays to celebrate on December 10th.”

“Now, does my wife want sushi since I know these nine months have driven you up the wall with not being able to have any.:

“Yes, please, oh my gosh. I couldn’t get her out of me fast enough. I forgot how much I actually loved it until I couldn’t have any.” You told him and he laughed as he shook his head at you.

“Mom!”

“Yes, Julian?”

“Can I request a little brother, next?” He asked and your eyes went wide as you looked at Joe.

“Um, let’s just try to focus on being a good big brother to Juliet first and then we can see.” He told him as he adjusted the flower headband that was on Juliet, a gift from her grandparents.

“JOSEPH!”

“I… what?! You know it’s hard for me to tell him no!”

“If that’s the case, I’m going to need a lot more than sushi.”

“That’s fine, how about a Birkin?”

Liked by lahjay_10, cincinattibengals, sabrinaaa, teehiggins and 2,472,097 others

joeyb_9: Finally got our happy ending. Welcome to the world, Juliet Maeve Burrow. Julian is so excited to be your big brother ❤️

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#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut #joey burrow #joey b #nfl imagine #nfl #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow bengals

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 3 days ago

Text

SOMEONE TO STAY

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: when rafe’s girlfriend doesn’t show up to his safe house during a hurricane he fears the worst, and wonders if he’ll get to tell her that he loves her.

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you wanted anon :) i wasn’t sure if you meant pogue!reader or actually meant pogue!rafe so i kept this open as to not interpret it incorrectly !!

A/N: my drew starkey & characters masterlist is here !!

WARNINGS: cursing, hurricane, fear of loved ones dying, crying, panic attack, arguments, angsty love confession, angst to fluff !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SECOND PERSON +

The storm came fast and without mercy. What had started as a mild tropical storm rapidly intensified into a Category 4 hurricane barrelling toward the Outer Banks. Mandatory evacuation orders were issued for the Pogues and parts of the Cut, but for the Kooks in Figure Eight, the luxury of reinforced homes and private shelters meant hunkering down. The air felt thick with panic and pressure as everyone prepared for the worst.

Rafe had been at his father's old office on the more secure side of the island, trying to sort out some financial mess left behind by Ward, when the weather reports turned grim. His phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls from people checking in or offering refuge. But Rafe didn't care about any of them.

He cared about one person.

"Y/N, just listen to me for once!" Rafe snapped, pacing the office as the storm began to howl outside. His voice was sharp, desperate even, as he tried to reason with his girlfriend. "Don't try to be a hero. Don't stop for anything. Just get in your car and come straight to the safe house. I'll meet you there."

"Rafe, I'll be fine," you said over the phone, your voice calm but firm. "I'm already on my way."

"You're sure? I can come get you. I should come get you," he pressed, running a hand through his hair. "This storm's getting worse by the second. I don't want you driving in this."

"I've got it under control," you reassured him, a smile in your tone even though he couldn't see it. "I'll see you soon."

But the second the line went dead, unease settled deep in Rafe's chest. He tried to tell himself you were capable, smart, and resourceful—qualities he loved about you. Still, that didn't stop the gnawing anxiety that clawed at him as he headed toward the safe house.

—

The drive was hellish. Rain lashed against your windshield, the wipers barely able to keep up. Floodwaters licked at the sides of the road as you maneuvered carefully toward Figure Eight. It wasn't long before you lost signal entirely, your phone cutting off mid-text to Rafe. You cursed under your breath but pressed on.

You'd been almost to the safe house when a thought struck you like lightning. Earlier that week, Rafe had been pouring over some old financial records and papers that he needed for his next move with the family business. He'd spent hours meticulously going through them, and you knew they were stored in his father's house.

Your chest tightened. If the storm destroyed everything, Rafe would lose all that work. Against better judgment, you turned onto the road leading to Tannyhill. You told yourself it wouldn't take long—just in and out.

By the time you made it to the safe house, it was well past dark, and the storm had intensified. The wind howled like a living thing, rattling the reinforced windows and slamming against the door as you stumbled in, soaked to the bone.

"Rafe?" you called, setting the plastic bag containing the saved papers down on a table. "I'm here."

It took less than ten seconds for him to appear. His hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from hours of pacing. The moment his eyes landed on you, relief flickered across his face—but it was quickly replaced by something far darker.

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouted, storming toward you. His voice was a mix of anger and panic, his chest heaving as he stopped in front of you. "I've been calling you for hours! Do you have any idea—" His voice broke, and he ran a hand down his face. "I thought something happened to you."

"Rafe, I'm fine," you said, trying to placate him. "I—"

"You're not fine!" he snapped, his voice rising again. "You think this is fine? Driving through a hurricane, ignoring my calls—what were you even doing?" His eyes darted to the bag on the table, and something clicked. "You stopped for papers?"

"Rafe, I know how important they are to you—"

"Papers?" he interrupted, his voice incredulous. "You risked your life for some stupid papers?"

"They're not stupid!" you fired back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You've been working so hard on this, and I didn't want you to lose it all."

"I don't care about the damn papers!" he yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "Don't you get it? I don't care about any of that fucking shit if it means losing you!"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his breathing growing erratic. His hands trembled as he backed away, pressing his palms to his temples. "I can't—God, I can't do this," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you were dead, Y/N. I thought I lost you out there.”

"Rafe—"

"You're all I have," he said, his voice breaking completely as tears streamed down his face. "You're all I have, and I can't lose you. I won't survive it."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the raw vulnerability in his voice leaving you momentarily stunned. You stepped toward him cautiously, reaching out to touch his arm. "Rafe, I'm here. I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm right here."

But he didn't seem to hear you, his breathing growing more rapid as he sank onto the couch. His chest heaved, and his hands gripped the edge of the cushion like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You knelt in front of him, your heart aching at the sight of him falling apart. "Rafe, look at me," you said firmly, taking his hands in yours. They were cold and clammy, shaking like leaves in the storm outside. "Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."

He tried to match your breaths, but his body refused to cooperate. Desperation clawed at him, his gaze wild and unfocused. "I can't—I can't—"

"Yes, you can," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. You guided one of his hands to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heartbeat. "Feel that? I'm still breathing. I'm still alive. I'm here, Rafe."

Something shifted in his eyes as he focused on the steady rhythm beneath his hand. He gripped your shirt like a lifeline, his breathing slowly evening out. "You're here," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "You're here."

"That's right," you said, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The storm raged on outside, but inside, the only sound was the quiet rise and fall of your breaths. Finally, Rafe pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair. "I'm sorry for yelling. I was just so scared."

"I know," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "I'm sorry, too. I should've just come straight here."

He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his blue eyes searching yours. "I don't say this enough—or at all—but you mean everything to me, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you. You’re my whole world. Not work, not money, not anything; you. I love you, so fucking much.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they were from something far warmer than fear. "I love you, too," you said, leaning into his touch.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms as the storm began to lose its fury. Whatever chaos the hurricane had brought, it couldn't touch the calm you found in each other.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this is what you wanted anon !! this was such a cute one to write and i love me some angst to fluff😫

pls request some more angst guys !! i absolutely LOVE writing it :) and as always, likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey #rafe cameron #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#outer banks #fluff #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron fanfiction

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willyoubemycherryy · 3 days ago

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Intimacy Cues (C. Kent)

Summary: Who better to teach you how to talk body when you never learned the language?

Contains: smut AND plot so it’s long,depressing past, the college au you all secretly needed, struggles with physical touch, struggles with any form of intimacy, one mild panic attack, Clark is understanding but hot, dumb ideas, hugging, bonding, kissing, making out, it starts off shaky then soft but quickly snowballs into horn-e central, size kink, slight dumbification, strength kink, first kisses, virginity kept but not for long just give me till the second part, Clark is a little infatuated, they’re so nasty about each other my word, grinding, kissing (no forreal), prayer bc we all need it

A/N- my stomach is fine, it wasn’t a tumor but a blockage because of something I ate that never digested, causing my tummy to bloat and swell but they fixed me up so I’m back😈

. .* ੈ✩‧₊•

“Nononono- no, stop!!”

This might be the worst decision of your entire life.

Clark pulls away again, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in concern but also exasperation because-

“Hey! It’s okay- you’re okay. Remember…you were the one who asked for my help.” He didn’t say the obvious “but we’re not getting any farther” part out loud but it echoes through your head all the same and you breathe out a deep sigh; regretting it with the depths of your very being but, yes. You did ask him for his help.

Help with what? The answer would’ve ended your social life if anyone who wasn’t Clark had found out.

You needed his help with…closeness- intimacy.

Growing up you were always awkward. Not in a charming way or even unconventional, you just simply didn’t make the cut based by society’s standards. You were always too gangly, too weird, too timid; so imagine the surprise come middle of highschool to now college where you’ve finally grown into yourself.

You know how you like to dress and which clothes look hottest on you, you know what hairstyle suits best for your face shape, you’re still weird but you’re also sarcastic which somehow equals charm to people and you’ve also managed to come out of your shell a bit. Becoming more confident from people naturally gravitating towards you after your blooming stage and even more after letting your friends convince you to join your college’s cheerleading team. You’d become everything you wanted to always try.

Pretty, popular, and fun. The problem?

Thanks to how much of a late bloomer you were, you never got the chance to get comfortable with others intimately during your formative years. Nobody liked you in that way and you were terrified of embarrassing yourself so there was nothing. No first kiss, no first dance with a boy, hell- even now you still get uneasy when others stare at you too long. Hiding behind your image as a college sweetheart made everything you were still to unsettled to try easier. Don’t misunderstand; it wasn’t that you never wanted those things, it’s that you’re not used to others suddenly picking you for those kinds of things after being invisible and missing out on them for almost all your life to the point where you don’t know how to deal with it when those moments do happen.

Still, you acted like everything was fine.

Playing the role of pretty cheerleader- the flirty tease that was favored by many even though that favor was shallow as a tear on a hot day. You pretended. And it was working, nobody knew…or so you believed.

Cue to one of the football teams parties where you’d been flirting with a guy, coy smile painted on your face as you giggled softly whenever he spoke, batting your pretty eyes at him in your little mini skirt. It had been going well until he suddenly leaned closer, focusing solely on you and when you felt the heat of his skin from how close he was- it felt as if the color had drained from your face, leaving you frozen as you became so uncomfortable it was visible; nerves screaming at you to flee until you listened. Spinning on your heels and bolting, trying to calm your breathing enough to will the cotton out of your ears.

You didn’t realize it then but a certain pair of blue eyes had been watching the whole thing. He’s always seen you. Which is funny because you almost always actively avoid him. In fact, he’s seen you enough to know that this isn’t the first time you’ve had that reaction and one day after a particularly rough week of endless pondering over you; he decides to just ask you after practice is over. Clark waits until his and your friends leave, it being only you and him on the field when he starts to walk over to you. The sound of incoming footsteps make you look up and when you see him, he can hear the very second your heart stops; skipping a beat before it quickly begins to thrum out of rhythm.

Honestly, there genuinely are not enough words to describe how attractive Clark Kent was. He was so incomprehensibly beautiful that you avoided Clark altogether just to avoid getting a headache from staring at him for too long especially since the real suffering started when he’d smile. Seemingly perfect pearly white straight teeth but when his grin broadened, his sharp canines would show, leaving you breathless every time. The type of good looking that was flat out overwhelming. Besides being apart of adjacent stereotypes, you two didn’t go together but there was no animosity.

Clark stops and you have to look up at him because of his hulking size. At almost 6’4 he nearly dwarfed you and his proportions matched. Thick, beefy everything- everywhere and you swallow before forcing a smile on your face. While you preferred to avoid him for the sake of keeping yourself out of the psych ward from how crazy he could drive you; you were still curious as to why he came to talk to you. He takes a moment to just look at you, cerulean eyes almost glowing but he doesn’t realize how intense his stare is until you start to shuffle on your feet- dainty hands twitching nervously at your side and that’s when he speaks.

“Hey…I know we don’t usually talk or anything but are you okay?” Even his voice is dreamy but confusion draws on your face because you felt fine; nervous, like you were around any guy you thought was cute, but fine. Clark elaborates at your expression,

“Y’know because of what happened at the party last-”, that seems to jog your memory enough to snap you out of it, eyebrows shooting up as dread overtakes over your face. You whip your head around, making sure there’s no witnesses when you grab him by his sweaty shirt, dragging him all the way behind the bleachers as you slam him against the metal. Clark is caught so off guard that he just lets it happen; lets the pretty thing half his size drag him as you pleased. Your eyes shift as you glare up at him.

You’re positive he’s talking about your little freak out with close proximity guy, the one that made you leave the party completely; walking so fast you nearly burned a trail in the carpet. Heart pounding, you start to spiral.

He wasn’t supposed to see that. He like everyone else- was supposed to be too drunk to notice anything.

Your nose scrunches, full lips curling in a snarl. “I swear if you say anything to anyone-!” You’re threatening him so fast, Clark falters, raising his hands in defense, debilitating blue eyes widening as he starts to plead his case.

“No no-! I didn’t! I-“, He stutters at your harsh gaze, the feel of your hands soaking through his shirt, warming his chest. He needs to hurry up and explain himself before you start disliking him. “I was just worried! Whenever I see you and a guy, even if you act interested-“, he rushes out, panting as he talks even faster, “the second they get too close you look like you’ll vomit!” Your hostility melts into shock and even more confusion and you let go of his shirt, stepping back as you study him, his words stuck in your mind.

“How..? Are you- you’ve been paying that close attention to me? When do you even see me?” You’re at such a loss for words that it’s hard to string them together to properly question him.

“…I”, he swallows harshly, “I always see you.” It’s pure adrenaline that motors his mouth- he thought he was over the time when lovely faced girls made him nervous but you were unexpectedly feisty. It lit something tingly in him. Your eyes search his face and he spills. “I see how you flirt but you’re sarcastic too. Everyone is so taken by your pretty that they don’t even notice, they just call it ‘wit”, he manages to catch his breath enough to sound less panicked now that you look like you won’t kill him, “I see how even though you’re a flyer, you hate heights-”

“H-how-?”

“Your right leg shakes when they lift you, no matter how stable your base is.” Your mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out, heart racing when his voice goes soft,

“But what I’m saying is- so what that you’re not really what you give off? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. ‘Jus curious why you think it is…”, he blinks those long lashes at you and you find yourself explaining the tale of your sordid social past.

By the end of it he’s stunned speechless.

You? Just how bad was your awkward phase for nobody to be interested in you? Wait so that also probably meant that-

“You’re a virgin?!”

You slap your hands over his mouth with a speed equal to his own, face flushed as you shush him, hissing in a low whisper.

“Jesus Chri- shut up! Are you trying to tell the entire campus?!!” You let out another heavy sigh.

“…yes, I am”. You let your hands fall to the side, refusing to look at him while he’s trying to process; silence filling the space between you. You’ve accepted that your ego will never recover from the most gorgeous being on the planet knowing about all your…truths. That you looked and acted the part of a vixen just to hide that you secretly weren’t.

“…so you’ve never done anyt-”,

“No.”

Well then.

You can’t take another long drag of awkward silence, turning to face the boy who knew you probably more than anyone else did.

“Look- I would’ve loved to remedy this but I-”

“Can’t stomach whenever a guy gets too close due to previous deep rooted societal wrought insecurities…” Bingo.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he gives you one of his disarming grins and a flush creeps up your neck; warming your ears, “I think you’re doing fine now.” You snap your head down to see that you two are standing fairly close or at least closer than you normally allow and you don’t have that itch to get him as far away from you as possible. That’s when you get the idea that- “Oh my god! You can help me get over my thing! This is perfect!”! You’re practically vibrating with glee, excited to finally have all your firsts without that looming of touch related dread haunting you. Clark however is swarmed with various images of him “helping” you and can’t keep his ears from reddening at all the different scenarios where he’d be required to be close to you and begins to stutter.

“W-well, I wa- not that I-! I don’t think that’s a good idea, I mean w-we-”, you cut him off before he can weasel out of it, eyebrows creasing in frustration. You unconsciously step closer, your sweet smell bathes his senses as he stares you down, trying not to gulp too hard. “Please, Clark?”, you start and he swallows harshly at how his name sounds in that whiny tone from your lips.

“It can’t be anyone else because you’re the only one who knows! We’re not close now but we could be-“, and the double meaning makes him tune out completely as he only watches your plump lips move; not even registering the sound coming from them. He was thankful you didn’t ask him why he watched you so closely because the answer was one he wasn’t ready to even admit to himself.

Your lips stop moving after a while and them paired with your begging doe eyes make him cave, Clark nodding in hopeless defeat. He was supposed to be over the influence of pretty girls.

“S’okay, I’ll help you out. Your secret’s safe with me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided smile that was somehow both attractive but made you feel safe and you smile shyly back. You were nervous but you know Clark is a good guy- reckless as hell with his charms- but a good guy. What could go wrong?

•

Standing in the middle of your dorm room with your arms wound tight around yourself is when you find out that alot can go wrong.

Clark came over and you two came up with a starting plan that seemed the easiest: talk and slowly close the distance between you two until he was touching and looking at you without you getting uncomfortable or pushing him away. It sounded simple enough at first only…. you severely underestimated how you’d react to Clark. The way his deep mellow voice sounded in your ears, how he always held such steady eye contact as he moved towards you, that heavenly jawline tilting when he’d think too long. Already, Clark was big from afar but up close he was even bigger. Strong arms and broad shoulders; chest so thick it was noticeable through his shirt. You were used to others falling at your feet but Clark stood fine and it affected you in ways you didn’t prepare to deal with, so you tried to do what you always did- ignore it.

Matching Clark’s light conversation as you two eventually get more comfortable, gradually gravitating towards each other with slow short steps. The air shifts when you exhale and the breath tickles his chest. This is when you normally get squeamish but you merely hesitate for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself by letting him keep his distance.

His hand twitch and he shuffles a bit closer, biceps flexing as he reaches out, resting his hands on your shoulders; your conversation quiets as he stares at you with perfectly blue lidded eyes and then you feel the stirrings of restlessness under your skin. That impeding urge to get away. Despite the way you feel, the slow atmosphere helps you tremendously to not pull away but your pulse spikes all the same. His hands felt nice. You take another deep breath as you try to come to terms with what you were feeling.

Clark was a guy.

A guy who was standing in your bubble, touching you- looking at you.

A million emotions fly across your face at record speed and Clark doesn’t move any more for the next couple minutes. No, he waits for you; large rough palms warm on your bare shoulders while his pinky idly messes with the thin strap of your top. Your skin was soft. The heavy rise and fall of your chest has him focusing on you more intensely, trying to get a read on how you felt until you break the silence with a shaky exhale.

“We can keep going- you can keep touching me.” He knows you don’t mean it that way but his ears burn anyways as he nods. Taking a second to think before taking his hands off you to take yours, ignoring your big eyes look as he places your hands around his waist- inevitably moving closer and his voice softens like he’ll frighten you away if he were to speak any louder.

“You can touch me too. Promise I don’t mind…this is for you after all.” You suppress a whine because being so close was already hard with you fighting every instinct yelling at you to get gone and go somewhere where nobody could comprehend you but now with Clark staring at you like that, it was even harder. Your eyes flick about the room as you flatten your palms more against his back, mentally rolling your eyes back at how his muscles feel. You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip but Clark does, instantly alert the second he felt your small hands nervously press against him, his eyes zeroed in on the swollen skin dipping under the pressure of your teeth. He feels bad because while he was supposed to be helping you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you were being so shy but hardheaded enough to build up the grit to go for what scared you because you wanted it.

Without taking his eyes off your face, he rubs his hands up to your neck, making you squeak before smoothing them back down your shoulders; repeating the motions with a gentle hum.

The room feels hot- you felt hot and jittery but it’s too much. Unable to keep the waves at bay, goosebumps trickle over your skin and your eyes scrunch in panic as your breathing picks up. He was close. Close and touching you. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes because you know when you do, you’ll be naked for all to see and you scream.

“Stop!”

Nobody can see you-nobody’s supposed to be seeing you, the girl who was never even chose last as you were overlooked entirely no matter how badly you wanted to reach out. Maybe that’s what started your fear. Maybe you were scared of losing experiences because of rejection.

Clark doesn’t move away but he isn’t touching you anymore and you aren’t touching him as your hands fly to the sides of your head, trying to calm yourself down and guilt pours over him. He wants to hug you; comfort you but he knows that pulling you against him in a hug will only worsen things right now so he waits. Closing his eyes to help you feel at ease, listening closely to the beat of your heart until your breaths quiet and he hears it fluctuate back to normal. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels your small trembling hands slide back around him and instead of putting his hands on your shoulders, he moves his arms around them; resting them against your back but not pulling you in yet. It’s quiet besides the hushed sounds of him cooing at you and your breathing. The air now has an underlying current and you shift in his heavy arms, inhaling deeply as you finally look up at his face. Shyly, you cut the silence; voice soft as how you feel.

“…you can open your eyes now..” Clark feels his own heart speed up before he responds, low tone matching yours and electricity hits you when it clicks. This is intimate.

“Are you okay? We can stop and try again some other time; I don’t wanna upset-,”

“I want you to look at me.”

His eyes pop open at your command, peering down at you in such a way that your breath catches; anxiousness rising up you again but you stay right where you are. Willing yourself to embrace the exposed way he makes you feel.

Under the heat of his stare it’s like he’s seeing everything you’ve ever hid or been but his hold is steady enough to let you know he’s there with you and he’s not going anywhere. You still feel naked but more than that, you feel safe. Comfortable enough to not shy away from his warmth, you take another breath; looking up at him through your lashes- making his head fuzzy.

His eyes shift from their usual blue to the shade of the sea after a storm and you’re swept away, logic going with you as you slowly glide your hands up his sides to his where his arms hold you. Feeling every dip and curve of his strong build until you reach his hands, repositioning them around your lower back. You move closer but because you two were already standing so close- your chests touch and Clark stops breathing. The soft swell of your breasts move against his body with your every inhale and he finds his senses filled with you.

Your gaze is torn away when you turn your head, looking down as you drop against his chest. Arms looping around him making his own instinctively curl around you, holding you tight to the firm but soft muscle of his chest. You both pause for a few minutes- waiting for the urgent panic but it never comes. Instead, you melt into him with a relieved sigh, warm breath bleeding into his shirt. You two were officially hugging.

And you were in heaven.

You never knew close contact with the opposite gender could be so delightful. Clark was just so big and warm and smelled so good, you bury your face into the meat of his pec almost deliriously, sighing happily. Fuck, you really had been missing out. His arms are firm and heavy against your back, effectively locking you against him. The endorphin rush hitting you has you practically purring; the sounds of your bliss vibrating Clark’s chest and he smiles, letting you get your fix as he enjoys the way you fit into his arms.

Unsurprisingly, you two stay like that for a while. Fitted against each other in the silence of your cozy bedroom. He sees the top of your head move and he’s suddenly looking into your eyes, pupils blown so wide that your eyes are black. Clark has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how cute you look. Your eyes flit down to his mouth to see the peek of his fangs that always show, letting out a small breathy ‘oh’ when you do. You’re still reeling in all the best ways as you rest your chin against his chest, unabashedly looking at his handsome face.

Clark raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the phantom hearts in your eyes and the way your small feet are standing on top of his larger ones while you make no attempt to separate your bodies, completely content with his proximity. He likes you so he likes your closeness and he’s even more elated that you seem to like him being so close too. Speaking lowly so he doesn’t disturb you, he checks if you’re still on the planet with him.

“This okay, sweetheart? Y’enjoying yourself?” The petname slips out but you don’t move or rush to correct him as your blood simmers, a numbingly pleasant heat washing over you so strong it’s hard to think. Running your hands in a slow caress up his back, you feel the muscles flex as his arm twitches and a smile grows on your face as you blink dumbly- brain currently taking a break, you mumble sweetly,

“Mmhm, yeah never better.”

And it’s true. You’ve never felt this safe, this free with anyone that wasn’t immediate family or your best girl friends. He was touching you and seeing you but you didn’t care because you knew whatever he was seeing and touching, was safe as it would ever be with him.

Clark huffs out a laugh at your belated response, moving one of his hands in a warm caress up your back, feeling you shiver and he bites his lip again. You were so alluring without even having to try and he breathes to reign himself in since he was currently the first and only to have you melting like this from a hug alone. If a hug got you like this he could only imagine how beautifully you’d respond to-

“Um, C-Clark?” Your soft voice brings him back as he hums, flicking his eyes down lazily at you.

“Yeah, baby?” Your sweet little gasp makes him realize that he just called you another nickname but you don’t seem to mind, flustering prettily in his arms. He leans down closer to your face, only to hear you better, eyes patient as he stares at you.

“I know this is supposed to be about me but how do you feel? You’ve been so good with me..I just wanna make sure you’re okay too.” Clark smiles, moved that you’re worrying about him even with all his experience.

“Yeah I feel good but how about you? Want me to let go or we can try something different?” He would’ve asked if you wanted to stop but he was going off your body language and it was telling him distance was the last thing you wanted and he was right as you shook your head before resting your chin back into his chest, looking up at him with those pupil eclipsed doe eyes.

“I feel great but…”, your voice gets smaller as it takes on an almost needy tone before stopping altogether. You snap your face back into his chest and he’s even more curious to get it out of you but you just can’t say it.

“You really don’t need to be embarrassed. Clothed or naked, we all start somewhere”, he whispers against the top of your head, stroking your back soothingly as you try to talk yourself into asking him before you chicken out, “with me you can start wherever you want and you know I’ll never tell. Or make fun of you..”,

His voice is tender with warmness and it turns your reservations to raindrops as you look back into his eyes. Steeling your nerve, you ground yourself with the way you feel in another persons arms for the first time in your life- his arms and decide to go for it.

“You said- we can try something different?” Your heart begins to race again as Clark’s starts to pound. He can’t keep the heat out of eyes as he returns your stare, nodding.

“Yeah. We can do whatever you want.” His breath wafts across your face, forehead resting against yours and the rate at which you find yourself needing him- scares you. You’ve been depraved of this kind of contact to the point of fear since forever but now…

“Then…can we-“, you blink rapidly, not wanting to verbalize it but not wanting to go without even more.

“Can we kiss please?”

Clark has to shut his eyes. You looked so sweet, felt so soft and even though you couldn’t keep the neediness from seeping into your words, you still asked so politely. Blood rushes through his ears as he feels a familiar stirring in his groin, taking a deep breath because it wouldn’t do for him to lose control now, his voice is heady with pure want when he answers,

“F’course. I’d love to kiss, baby.”

Large hands settle around your waist as you get pulled completely flush to him, legs almost intertwining while your pelvises touch; bodies glued together. The languid heat of arousal thrums through you, making your head spin.

Your lips part when Clark presses his forehead more firmly against yours, lighting you from the inside out when he dips his neck to slot his open mouth over yours.

Immediately your chest burns, heart feeling like each pump is gasoline, fueling the fire hes started in you. Clark’s full lips slide against yours, alternating between suckling at your top lip then bottom lip slowly, coaxing you to follow his lead, groaning his approval and the sound turns you up as you press yourself harder against his body. You feel so good you’re thrumming- heat steadily pulsing through you.

Your heads move from how hard you’re kissing, slick sounds coming from your mouths intensifying as you get rougher, delicious shivers all up your spine. Clark presses his lips fully against yours, moving them open wider with his own, hot breaths mingling as he licks hotly against the opening of your mouth. A bolt of pleasure hits you so hard that you gasp, wrenching your mouth off his as you moan- the needy little thing so whiny it makes his cock fatten in his pants as you pant against each others lips. Fuck. He can smell how wet you are. The sweet, heady smell makes his mouth water with him tossing shame clean out the window.

“Can I put my tongue in your mouth? Please, pretty girl?” You move your arms around his neck to get as close as possible, nodding desperately.

“God, yes-!” His mouth is back to consuming yours before you finish. Opening your lips with the force of his swollen ones, he sucks your bottom lip before lapping his tongue into your mouth. You twitch in his hold, even more turned on when he doesn’t have to move to keep your squirming in place, casual show of strength making you lightheaded as he swallows your moans. Wet smacks fill the air, your grip on him tightening when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. You get wetter and he can tell, growling in pleasure as he suddenly lifts you; your legs locking around his waist as he uses his hold on yours to grind you against him. The result is instantaneous. You melt like cotton candy, chest shaking against his from your pleasured moans as your shared spit wets your lips. Still aware of the fact that you need to breathe, Clark pulls away with a suck of your lips- staring at you hungrily with dark eyes.

He can’t even remember when he picked you up but the tiny undulations of your hips let him know it was a welcome decision. You looked so good. Lips puffy n slick, doe eyes teary and blown out, wet as fuck with your hard nipples poking through your top…you could ask him for every one of Saturns rings and he’d get them for you.

Clark takes a deep lungful of your tantalizing scent before he checks on you again.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’first kiss right?” You nod, cupping his face. You can’t help the way you smooch more pecks onto his pink lips, aching as you answer.

“It was so good”, you drag your nose down his jaw; kissing his ear as you whisper into it, “you feel so good, Clark..”. You have him completely hard at this point, thick and fat as his tip oozes pre when you start to whine. He almost feels bad that you’ve waited so long, being so pent up wasn’t good and you deserved to feel good everyday.

“What’s wrong baby?” The low timbre of his voice makes your pulse skyrocket, causing you to absolutely dissolve against him, hips twitching as he helped you rub yourself on him.

“I-I need..-“, you let out a soft cry and he quickly soothes you. Kissing you deeply before pulling away, licking his lips of your taste as he verbalizes exactly what you need.

“Need to cum?”

The heat in your chest blooms up to your face as you nod, suddenly growing shy but still comfortable. You purr as Clark presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, looking at you with pretty lidded eyes.

“Would it be okay if I made you cum princess?”

The utterly wrecked moan that comes out of your mouth has goosebumps scattering up his arms, holding you tighter as you nod vigorously.

“I need words baby”, he whispers. Giving you another kiss to tempt you and it works. He was too irresistible and he knew it.

“Yeah, you can make me cum Clark.” And with that he carries you over to your bed, laying you on the plushness as he takes over your mouth again with a hungry groan, your hands touching everywhere until he pulls away- fangs on display as he smiles making fire sweep through your veins.

Massaging your legs, he rises on his knees- taking off his shirt as your mind checks out from how hot he is, shifting restlessly as the ache in your pussy throbs with the best pain. Whining his name, Clark cooes at you; big hands moving to pull your clothes off. Your nerves are going haywire but you need this- need him to make you feel things, lifting your hips to help him slide your shorts and underwear off, spreading your legs as you let him get a good look at your messy wet hole twitching in need.

Clark swears, hooking his hands under your knees and bending them towards your chest. Exposing you more as he licks his lips, keeping his eyes glued to your cunt.

“Atta girl, jus�� lay there nice n pretty and I’ll give you what you need..”

#smallville #Tom welling #smallville x reader #smallville fanfic #clark kent smallville x reader #clark kent smallville #tom welling x reader #tom welling smut #tom welling smallville #smallville smut #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader

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anto-pops · 3 days ago

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Envy's Grip - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: There was no field guide on how to handle your best friend coming back to life. But in hindsight, maybe keeping it from your crime lord boyfriend wasn’t the best course of action.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, miscommunication (kind of), a sprinkle of jealous Sylus (or as jealous as he can be, he knows he's fine)

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3

Sylus was perceptive.

It wasn’t a new trait, by any means. He had always been annoyingly aware of everything. Sometimes it seemed like he knew your own thoughts before you voiced them– though he insisted you were just easy to read and that it had nothing to do with him using his Evol to his advantage. Now was one of those times where you could tell he was scrutinizing you from afar, having picked up on the influx of emotions that overwhelmed your mind and left your body tense.

Caleb was alive.

The revelation had left you breathless– utterly at a loss for words as you had stared at him standing before you whole and well. Well, almost whole. The mechanical arm had thrown you for a loop, but it was his eyes that had broken down the wall of doubt between the two of you. Those bright, violet irises silently conveyed a lifetime of emotion that told you then and there that somehow, someway, your childhood friend was back from the dead.

How the hell were you supposed to go about your day after discovering something like that?

When Sylus had asked you the day after what had you looking so dreary, you had waved off his concern with a lie. “There’s a mandatory work meeting next weekend. All my plans with Tara are ruined.”

He had furrowed his brow at that statement, evidently confused as to why he hadn’t heard anything about your weekend plans up until that moment. You were terrible at lying, and it felt awful to do it– especially with Sylus. You had just prayed that he would overlook your nervous behavior and let you get away with it.

That same day, Sylus’ eyes had narrowed during lunch while you’d chewed your own nails off in favor of the roast he had cooked for the two of you, but you had done your best to play off the anxious habit as something else work related. Then you had jumped– actually jumped– when he’d walked into the living room while you’d zoned out staring at a wall, his sudden presence jerking you back to the present with your heart hammering and your eyes wide.

“You need to wear a bell,” was all you had said when he’d asked why you were so jumpy. His lips had pursed while he’d worked a muscle in his jaw, opting to keep his innermost thoughts to himself.

Then there was right now; your form was sloppy, and your shoulder was aching from the lack of control you threw your punches with. The boxing bag hanging from the ceiling of Sylus’ home gym swayed towards you listlessly, the lack of power in your attacks barely causing the chain to rattle the way it normally would. Using your gloved hand, you halted the bag’s momentum, your chest heaving as you drew in deep, steadying breaths to ground yourself. The sweat that dripped down your temples chilled your otherwise heated skin, and you hastily wiped the moisture away using the back of your forearm before swallowing thickly.

You were a mess.

As you turned to make your way to the edge of the ring for your water bottle, Sylus tracked your movements with predatory-like precision. He didn’t blink, didn’t shift from his spot against the wall. It hardly looked like he was even breathing. The floor to ceiling mirrors that lined the entirety of the gym clued you in on the dark expression that crossed his face the second you turned your back to him, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the air vent overhead snaked its way down your spine.

“How do I put this nicely…” Sylus’ deep, throaty timbre reverberated off the walls, and you did your best to ignore him as you brought your bottle to your lips. “The way you’re performing now, you’re on par to fight a toddler.”

Prick. Water dribbled down your chin as you tightened the water cap and set the container down. “That’s what the practice ring is for. Practice. I’m not trying to show out.”

“No, clearly you’re not. You’re trying to distract yourself.”

Ever the discerning crime lord. “I’m working out, Sylus. Since when does that require perfect form?” Placing your hands on your hips, you glared at his reflection in the mirror. “More importantly, why are you just standing there watching? It’s weird.”

He feigned disinterest by looking at his nails, a move that infuriated you as much as it intrigued you. Sylus always looked so effortlessly handsome. The sight of him posted up against the wall with his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest almost distracted you from the rampant thoughts about Caleb that had plagued your brain for the last two days. Almost. “You might be ‘practicing’, but you’re doing yourself a disservice by not utilizing your full potential. That stance is pathetic, and your punches couldn’t hurt a fly. To add insult to injury, you already know all of this.”

“And I really don’t care. Go find Kieran or Luke if you want to criticize someone, I’m not in the mood.”

Sylus went quiet behind you as you began unstrapping your gloves, and a few beats of silence passed before you lifted your gaze back to the mirror. He was staring at you intently, ruby red eyes flickering darkly and narrowing. It wasn’t exactly the expression he wore when he was angry– not when it still hid a sliver of possessive longing within his dark pupils. But even so, it was enough. You felt arousal curling hot in your gut at the sight, and Sylus’ eyes flicked up to your damp hair clinging to your forehead as a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Then what are you in the mood for?” Sylus purred the question, pushing off the wall to stalk over to the boxing platform. He shrugged off his jacket as he walked, tossing it haphazardly over the rope barrier before effortlessly hoisting himself up and stepping into the ring. “Want me to leave you alone? Completely? Back off and let you think about your long lost friend in peace?”

Oh, shit.

Your mouth fell open at the realization that he knew. How? When had he found out? Your mind whirred with the possibilities and your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your skin and imbuing you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. It had never been like that with Caleb, but did Sylus know that? Did he think the worst? How much of the impromptu reunion was he aware of?

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” He goaded you further, prowling towards you without an ounce of hesitation. You held up your palms towards him as though to stop him, but he captured your smaller hands in his larger ones and threaded your fingers together, pulling you against his chest with a throaty chuckle devoid of any humor. “Did you really think I didn’t know why you’ve been so out of it lately?”

“Sylus, I–” you stopped yourself, indignant anger taking root as you realized he had somehow invaded your privacy. “Did you follow me? You ass! How do you even know about that?”

He ignored your pointed line of questioning and pressed on with his brows furrowed. “Were you ever planning on telling me? Or would you have kept quiet and silently debated on whether or not rushing back to his side is a good plan?”

“What? Don’t you dare turn this back on me, you spied on me!”

“I was in the city on business. Nothing special, but I wanted to stop by to see you once I was done. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the park with him on the way to my meeting.”

You tsk’d in annoyance, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “Business. It’s always business with you. Why does it matter that I didn’t immediately run to you to fess up about my friend not being dead?”

“Because you lied to me.” The way he growled the blatant fact made your retort die in your throat. The anger that had burned hot in your veins cooled instantly, and you blanched as Sylus continued icily. “Taking your time to process it? That I can understand. But you looked me right in my eyes and came up with some half-assed excuse about work. You didn’t trust me with this, even though we agreed we would always be honest with one another.”

You stammered, “Sylus, wait– I wasn’t–”

He let go of one of your hands to capture your chin in his firm grip, forcing your eyes to meet his as he stared down at you. His hold wasn’t painful, but it was unrelenting, and the angle left you wholly at his mercy as he slipped his other hand around your back to hold you flush to him. “You weren’t what? Keeping secrets? Giving me unwarranted attitude?”

“None of this is your business!” You jerked your head out of his hold and wedged your hands between the two of you, shoving him away so abruptly that the tiniest grunt escaped his lips. Your eyes were frantic as you exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have left– I just– dammit! Just give me a minute here!”

He gave you ten seconds of uninterrupted silence. The tense kind that set your teeth on edge and made your skin crawl. Then you looked back at him, shocked to discover an icy cool expression painted across his sharp features. The unyielding wall that had existed between you both when you’d first met had been reconstructed in record time, the lack of warmth in his eyes speaking volumes of how he really felt.

“Take all the time you need, Miss Hunter.”

When he turned his back to you and started towards the ropes, your heart nearly gave out as your stomach plummeted into your feet. He couldn’t walk away from this– not after he had implied the worst without letting you explain. You had no clue how he even knew about Caleb, but clearly Sylus assumed your relationship with him was something more, and it scared you to think that your lover doubted you. Worse, that he doubted himself.

Your body acted of its own accord, carrying you forward fast enough that you were able to coil your fingers around Sylus’ thick wrist. He stopped dead in his tracks, but he didn’t turn to look at you. On instinct, you darted around him so you were standing before him, then rose up onto the tips of your toes so you could crush your lips to his.

Sylus’ reaction was slow; he inhaled sharply before his hands slowly came to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as an animalistic growl resonated from deep within his chest. He stepped closer to you, blindly leading you towards the edge of the ring until you felt your back press against the ropes, and Sylus used the newfound barrier to his advantage and rolled his hips against yours while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth. It was equal parts suffocating and exhilarating. Your every sense was overtaken by him– his heady scent, the muscular feeling of him, the guttural sounds he made as he devoured you.

Sylus’ lips trailed away from yours to mouth wetly at your jaw, and your head fell back as a raspy moan escaped you when he ground his hips into you. The hard length of him was tangible through his dress pants, and the thin pair of leggings you wore did little to deter the feeling. Your hands drifted down his toned biceps and along his taut stomach before your fingers curled tellingly over his belt buckle. The tug you gave the leather material was ardent, your desires taking over your better judgement. Rational thinking had suggested you talk things out with Sylus like adults. To speak to him about loyalty and remind him that he had nothing to worry about as far as Caleb was concerned.

But bringing up Caleb right now was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Fucking like adults might also do the trick.

An airy whimper sounded from you as Sylus roughly brushed your hands away from his belt, taking control of the situation and yanking your sweat-soaked t-shirt over your head. Your sports-bra went next, and the peaks of your breasts pebbled in response to the cold air surrounding you. When you blinked up at the man through hazy eyes, his own orbs were dark and hooded, and the way he licked his lips made you want to kiss him again badly. You weren’t far gone enough to think you deserved it yet, though– not even when Sylus leaned forward to start mouthing down your throat, his tongue trailing against your sweat-slick skin as he descended lower and lower.

Just when you thought Sylus would end up on his knees in front of you, he was back to his full height. He wasted little time taking you by the hips and assertively guiding you down to the floor of the boxing ring. Dazed, you blinked up at the white haired man, staring at him long enough to catch sight of the strained expression he hid behind his calm facade. It almost looked like he was pained. It confused you, but questioning it wasn’t possible once Sylus shuffled down to settle between your legs.

You felt his blunt nails scrape against your hip bones as he tugged your panties and leggings away, tossing both of them aside before laying flat between your bent knees. He wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t talking with you the way he normally would when the two of you were intimate. In fact, there wasn’t anything that was intimate about this aside from you being fully exposed to him. There he was, fully clothed between your legs and inches away from your womanhood, and yet not a lick of warmth emanated from him.

Suddenly, your morose thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Sylus licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, your breath catching as the man took care to add a sinful amount of pressure to your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you managed to wheeze, your hands flying to Sylus’ soft locs as he wrapped his lips around your clit, then sucked hard enough that your back arched off the floor. Another rough moan escaped you as Sylus splayed his fingers against the underside of your thigh and dug his nails into the tender flesh there. He did the same with your other leg, and the bruising strength he held your legs apart with was something that enticed you as much as it confused you.

Make no mistake: rough sex with Sylus was always phenomenal, and it was most definitely something you enjoyed partaking in. But there was a missing puzzle piece here– something irregular that had your heart weighing heavy in your chest as you gazed breathlessly to the ceiling.

You wished Sylus would say something. He hadn’t since you had grabbed for him just minutes prior, nor had he let you undress him like you’d wanted to. The disappointing memory of him crudely swatting your hands away from his belt returned to you then and imbued you with a lingering sense of remorse. Shit, you would settle for him just looking at you by this point. Anything other than the cold, rigid version of your lover before you now.

Unbeknownst to your internal turmoil, Sylus sat back on his haunches and slid his hands to your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach and allowing for him to manhandle your legs apart. Part of you wanted to protest against the position, but then you felt your lover begin to mouth hotly down your spine and press chaste kisses to your warm skin, and your inhibitions started to melt. It was the first real show of Sylus’ softer side. The gentle press of his index finger against your entrance further derailed your train of thought, and as Sylus slowly breached your fluttering walls with the digit, you couldn’t help but breathe out a soft moan.

The tenderness left you shaking– trembling– for more.

As Sylus started to pump his finger slowly, he took care to remain incredibly attentive to the way you wriggled and keened for more, your face half-buried in the crook of your arm. His free hand came to rub soothing circles against your hip as he gingerly added a second finger to join the first, and the tantalizing stretch had you gasping and squeezing your eyes shut. “F-Fuck, Sylus,” you mumbled, the words muffled slightly by your own arm pressed against your lips.

You felt Sylus lean forward, his warm breath fanning across your ear as he asked, “Does it feel good?”

You rocked your hips back onto the fingers easing you open, nodding and gasping breathlessly as the crime lord pressed against your inner walls incessantly in search of that one spot he knew would reduce you to a babbling mess. It didn’t take long for him to find it. Before long, Sylus slid his fingers deeper and curled them up, and the sudden jolt of pleasure that ran through you caused you to mewl your lover's name loudly.

Taking your reactions as his cue, Sylus proceeded to work you with his fingers faster, brushing the pads of his digits over that magical spot within you every time without fail. The overwhelming sensations left your body quaking as fiery hot arousal coursed through your veins, the beginnings of your climax festering in your gut. As blissful as it was, you had no desire to end things like this; on your knees and with your back to Sylus while he used his damn hands to undo you.

Blearily, you pushed yourself up with your arms, craning your head around to stare at the man through your lashes. “C-Come on, Sylus,” you implored him weakly. “Please?”

Sylus met your gaze for the briefest of moments, his eyes dancing away before you could get a good look at him. He mercifully withdrew his fingers, trailing the appendages against your inner thighs and inducing a wave of goosebumps along your skin, then sat back to begin removing his clothing. It was methodical– swift, even. All you could do was watch in the reflection of the mirror as Sylus stripped himself bare without your aid, tossing his clothes off to the side of the boxing ring before returning to his kneeled position behind you.

Sighing, you ran your hand through your hair dejectedly, accepting that Sylus’ colder nature was your own fault. How could you blame him? Beyond keeping the truth about Caleb from him, you had pushed him away when he’d tried to get close to you. It didn’t look good for you, and you found yourself lowering yourself back to the ground with your face buried in the crook of your arm. Whether you were hiding from Sylus or your own embarrassment, you didn’t know.

As Sylus lined himself up with your wet entrance, the tiniest sigh escaped him when the blunt head of his cock rubbed softly against you. His firm, warm hands settled on your hips as he asked, “Ready?”

You could sass him, or rush him along, or just generally be an ass to him in response to him being so closed off, but you didn’t. The air between the two of you was different than it was before, even though Sylus was keeping all his sweetness to himself. You told yourself that you didn’t deserve it anyways and nodded shakily.

At your confirmation, Sylus sighed and squeezed your hips, then began to sink his thick, perfect cock deep inside of you with slow, gentle thrusts. You gasped and hid your face in your arms, rocking back onto the larger man as you muffled needy little noises against your skin. When Sylus bottomed out, he moaned and ran his hands up your sides, over your ribs, so gentle and so fucking nice that you kind of wished he would just rail you through the floor of the ring. How amazingly soft he was being while distancing himself was making your chest ache.

It didn’t last long, thankfully. When Sylus gave an experimental roll of his hips and found you more than a little eager for his cock, he groaned and pulled back farther before ramming his dick into you, and the way you cried out for it covered the throaty moan that had escaped his lips. The crime lord set the pace just like that; hard and fast, impaling you and wringing gasping cries out of you easily. The arch of your back let Sylus’ cock slide along your sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the feeling had your eyes fucking crossing.

It was too good. Your thoughts were crashing, noisy moans sounding from you freely. You were entirely sure you were drooling all over the padding of the ring’s floor, but you didn’t really care when Sylus was fucking you so thoroughly. The fingers digging into your hips pulled you back hard even as Sylus pounded his cock into your wet, tight heat, leaving you completely and utterly helpless for it.

You didn’t know if Sylus had a cruel streak or a merciful one, because eventually he peeled one hand off of your hip and wound it immediately into your hair, and then you knew you were fucked. So very fucked. And not just by the cock driving you crazy.

Sylus yanked your hair– just a little on the side of painful– and you couldn’t help the way you fucking wailed Sylus’ name, your thighs shaking and your hips slamming back into his fast thrusts. When he pulled again, you obediently scrambled up onto your weak hands, your shoulders trembling and your stomach churning with wanton pleasure. Sylus leaned down and moaned in your ear, his grip on your hair unrelenting as he urged, “Say my name, say my name for me, come on…”

You didn’t even have to think about it. You leaned your head back against Sylus’ shoulder and gasped his name over and over, your voice pitched high and desperate from the way his cock owned you so perfectly. Sylus’ soft sounds were driving you mad for him, eager to hear his voice again, to hear the white haired man tell you how good you were. The hand pulling at your hair made it impossible to form words, though, save for the increasingly needy cries of Sylus’ name and shaky iterations of please, please, please.

The floor of the boxing ring creaked as Sylus pressed the two of you back down against its surface to speed up, his hips slapping against your ass so aggressively that you couldn’t help but scream for him, the pleas coming in shaking sobs.

Even though Sylus was so thoroughly possessing you and fucking his cock straight into your cervix, something was still keeping you from getting close. It felt so good, absolutely amazing, but you couldn’t finish like this. Not when Sylus was biting his lip against his own noisy moans. Not when Sylus hadn’t said your name once this entire time. Not when Sylus had yet to look you in the eyes.

Whining, you turned your head forward so you could look at him in the reflection of the mirror straight ahead. The muscles of his back rippled with effort as he continued pumping his hips, and his own forehead was pressed into your shoulder so he didn’t have to look at you. The change in your breathy sounds caught his attention, however, and Sylus slowed his hips to a rough grind to give the two of you a damn break. He finally lifted his dark, fucked-out gaze to yours, and proceeded to finally made eye contact with you in the mirror. Even hazy with lust, you could still pick out the hurt in Sylus’ eyes.

You had put that there.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimpered and spread your fingers out against the padded floor, an unspoken invitation. After a long moment of consideration, Sylus mouthed at your sweat-slick shoulder and carefully unwound his fingers from your tangled hair to twine them together with yours. You gripped his hand tight and shivered for him, rocking back into now-gentle thrusts with a soft moan of his name.

“I’m s-sorry,” you breathed, looking back at Sylus from over your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sylus.”

He stilled then, his free hand moving to tenderly brush your sweaty bangs out of your eyes. He didn’t respond yet, though, instead pulling out entirely to ease you over onto your back.

Winding your violently trembling legs loosely around his waist, you wiggled as Sylus leaned back over you and aligned himself with your throbbing center once again. When he slid home, it was slow and easy, leaving the two of you gasping. To make things even better, Sylus reached over to grab both of your hands before lacing your fingers together again, balancing easily on his elbows so his chest was nearly flush to yours. It was so close, so damn intimate, and so much better than you deserved that you couldn’t even begin to hope for anything more.

Sylus was so kind, though. He was thoughtful and courteous and so damn sweet, and he nudged your nose with his own before he finally kissed you again, thank god. You whimpered pitifully, squeezing his hands while he slid his tongue easily between your lips, deepening the kiss and drawing a keening moan from your sore throat.

This time, Sylus’ thrusts were steady and slow, following an even tempo that left you sputtering against his lips.

It was a world apart from earlier. Before, Sylus had been fucking you, marking you like you were his territory, holding back even as he let loose some wild, animalistic part of himself brought on by you pushing him away.

Now, by some grace from god or by virtue of Sylus’ incredible capacity for dealing with your shit, it was like he was making love to you, his cock continuing to fill you up so good but just slow enough that you had time to understand how amazing he made you feel. Sort of. As much as you could understand when you were whispering Sylus’ name against his lips, your voice still rough from screaming and hitching audibly when he thrusted into you.

You swallowed thickly to coat your dry throat, then opened your eyes to stare up at him again.

Sylus had pulled back enough that he could see the faces you were making perfectly, how flushed your cheeks were, and how watery your eyes were. Being watched so intimately caused you to flush darker, and you closed your eyes again and arched your back with a broken groan when Sylus’ cock slid over your sweet spot once again.

“Sylus,” you moaned, sliding your thighs further up his sides and spreading them wider. “Sylus, you’re so good…”

You felt as Sylus bumped your noses together again, squeezing your hands with a contented sigh. You were more than okay with the pace things were moving at, especially once your lover brushed his lips against your cheeks so incredibly tenderly and thrust deeper into you. Spine rounding again, you let loose a shuddering gasp before your mouth fell open with an airy whisper of Sylus’ name.

“You look so good like this,” Sylus purred, the sound of his voice sending you reeling once again. It was beyond unfair how Sylus had you wrapped around his finger. You instinctively tightened around his cock, and the lecherous moan the action pulled from him made your stomach flip. He chuckled softly shortly thereafter and squeezed your hands again, “So pretty, you know that, kitten? And you take me so well, with the prettiest little noises. God, the noises you make…”

You were losing your fucking mind. You rolled your head to the side with a bitten-back whimper, your body rocking perfectly into Sylus’ thrusts. There was no way you could have known that the way Sylus whispered to you would set you so on edge, but you had missed it so badly in the seemingly endless period of time you’d had to go without it. Sylus’ praises made you so hot, so damn brainless that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, and the bastard knew it. When Sylus sped up, you were still helpless– still unable to do anything other than gasp your lover’s name into the humid air between you both.

Even as he smiled down at you and chuckled at the way you fell apart, Sylus’ own voice was growing breathier, his moans louder. Apparently you weren’t the only one so deeply affected.

“I can feel you getting close, kitten,” Sylus moaned against you, his hips moving in deep, quick thrusts that filled you up easily. You licked your lips and cracked open your bleary eyes to watch as Sylus’ brows pinched together in response to your walls clamping down on his cock harder. With a stammered moan of your name, Sylus’ head drooped between his shoulders as he murmured, “You feel incredible. You’re so good for me.”

That was what you needed more than anything. Sylus moaning your name while his thrusts picked up with more force, his teeth worrying his lip as he fought against his bone-deep urge to finish. Your name spoken by Sylus would forever be your favorite sound, and hearing it now was driving you straight to the edge and building your orgasm up quickly in your gut. Your moans spiked into breathy cries, your muscles tensing and twitching in earnest. Unable to stop yourself, you started to beg, “S-Sylus, Sylus, I’m almost– I’m– please, Sylus–”

Sylus obliged your senseless word babble. He untangled your fingers from his so he could sit up on his heels, looping his arms under your back to bring you with him. With you balanced easily in his lap, Sylus kept one arm around your midsection while the other came to grip your hip before he started thrusting again, his cock angling up and hitting you so deep and so perfect that you were certain you were seeing stars. Your hands flew frantically to Sylus’ toned shoulders, your nails digging in for purchase as that telltale sensation in the pit of your stomach grew stronger and more potent.

Once Sylus breathed your name again, his voice trailing off into a raspy, rumbling moan, it was more than enough to carry you over the edge.

Your breasts pressed into Sylus’ chest as your spine arched, your climax crashing over you violently and rendering your brain useless. Sylus groaned long and loud as you clenched impossibly further around his cock, and as you clung desperately to him and buried your face into the crook of his neck, he managed to thrust once, then twice, before he came with a shuddering groan.

Sylus curled around you possessively and ground against you mindlessly, his large hands gripping you so tightly that you were certain they would leave bruises in their wake. He continued to mumble your name breathlessly into your ear as the two of you came down together, and eventually you were able to think through the pleasured fog that still tinged your vision.

You continued to breathe heavily, your limbs shaking and twitching as you clenched your eyes shut and continued to hide your looming shame in the crook of Sylus’ neck. The only thing that pulled you out of your makeshift cocoon was the feeling of the larger man’s lips pressing against the top of your head, and you jolted almost violently at the attention.

“Damn, sweetie,” Sylus said roughly, his hand trailing up your bare back to hold the nape of your neck. “You’re still shaking an awful lot. Are you alright?”

You were silent for a long time, trying and failing to get your breathing under control again while Sylus simply cradled you. There was nothing you wanted more than to keep holding him, to keep him from leaving you and walking away, but as the dust settled around the two of you, you remembered how bad you had actually fucked up. So you waited for Sylus to release you, to stop mumbling sweet nothings into the top of your head, to banish you from his home entirely and send you back to Linkon City.

But he didn’t do any of those things. He surprised you by lowering his own head so it was right beside yours, using his chin to gently nudge you out of your hiding spot in his shoulder so he could look at you. “I’m going to need an answer, sweetie, because I’m becoming increasingly worried that I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, Sylus,” you mumbled, avoiding meeting his gaze in favor of directing your words to his chest. Your voice was meek and pitiful, and your lower lip trembled as you tried and failed to fight the influx of tears that welled in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

At first, Sylus was quiet. You felt his arms slide away from your back, and for a split second you were convinced that he was going to shove you away and end things with you then and there. But then his hands reappeared between the two of you, tentatively cupping your jaw to angle your face up at him. He looked at you curiously, sweeping his thumb under your eyes to catch the stray tears that slipped down your cheeks. His voice was calm and gentle when he finally asked, “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

“For lying to you. For saying those hurtful things. I know I was overwhelmed by Caleb just… showing up the way he did, but that was no excuse for being so cruel to you.” You swallowed, your brow furrowing as you stared up at the literal love of your life and became overtaken by a fresh dose of remorse. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want Caleb. I don’t want you to think that you’ve been some replacement for him this entire time because I never had feelings like that for him. I should have been honest from the jump instead of getting so defensive. I’m really, really sorry, Sylus.”

Sylus seemed to mull your confession over– always so careful about picking his words. It was a trait that you could certainly stand to learn from, if only you could manage to stop talking out of your ass for five seconds.

“I didn’t exactly broach the subject with you delicately,” he admonished with a grimace. “I didn’t stop to consider that your childhood friend was back from the dead. I just assumed the worst and jumped head first into the conversation with that thought driving me. So for that, I’m sorry.”

A watery smile stretched across your face, and you wrapped your arms around Sylus’ waist with your ear pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing your previously frayed nerves. “So does this mean you forgive me?”

To your mild surprise, Sylus laughed. Softly, and far from the mean-spirited kind. He returned your embrace eagerly, tracing small circles against your back with his fingers as he shook his head to himself. “There’s hardly that much to forgive. You’ve said worse things to me in the past, remember?”

“Don’t make me beg. Just answer the question.”

“Yes, kitten. I forgive you.”

Sighing contentedly, you felt Sylus press a quick kiss to your forehead before holding you tighter to him, then he rose swiftly and easily, not at all slowed down by hoisting you up along with him. You yelped a little in alarm and wrapped your legs around his waist, entirely at his mercy as he somehow managed to duck under the ropes of the boxing ring with you coiled around him like a baby monkey. “Where are we going?”

“To shower. I have every intention of making the most of your apologetic mood. And I think I might like to see you beg a little.”

You sat upright in his firm hold, placing your hand on his chest to put a modicum of space between the two of you. “But you said you forgave me! What about Luke and Kieran?! Your room is on the other side of the house– Sylus, we’re naked!”

Undeterred, Sylus flashed you his trademark smirk– the one that never failed to lower your inhibitions. “Oh, I forgive you. But since I have heard worse things from you before, the way I see it is you can go ahead and earn some more forgiveness while you’re at it.”

Anxious beyond belief at the prospect of the twins seeing you in the nude, you shoved at Sylus more and scrambled to get out of his hold. He was having none of it, however, and swiftly readjusted his grip so he could toss you over his shoulder, your rear on full display in the event anyone crossed paths with the two of you. When you frantically started kicking your legs and hitting his back, he returned the motion with a playful slap to your ass that pulled a loud yelp from your lips.

You loved the man with all your heart. You truly couldn’t fathom yourself ever leaving him, nor could you imagine your life without him. He brought a certain excitement to your otherwise dull day-to-day that you treasured and valued endlessly.

But be that as it may, you were so, so going to kill him for this.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #lads sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lads fanfic #love and deepspace fanfic #lads fanfiction #sylus smut #love and deepspace oneshot #my writing #coincidentally the other sylus fic I was working on once upon a time also features them fucking in the boxing ring so that's next #I only wrote this because I was curious about Caleb for .47 seconds and then remembered I am LOYAL #sorry Caleb but Sylus is pookie for life get back in the ground #he's too close to brother status and it would just be weird #but his resurrection means there is now RIPE material for angsty jealous possessive tropes HAHAHAHAH

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