#I see it as a series but a one shot works too

[chleem]

Love Deception II

One shot: ceo!drew starkey x assistant!reader

Summary: In order to secure a business deal, you pose as Drew’s girlfriend at engagement party.

Genre: fake dating, slowburn, yearning, age gap (31 & 26), read at own caution

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work!

⋆.˚ inspired by this tweet!

♡⸝⸝ shld this be a short series? | one

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Through the glass walls of Drew’s office, he sees you eating lunch alone. 

It was a first- staffs eat at the cafeteria, not at their desk. 

He watched for a moment longer, your eyes focused on your laptop as you ate the sad, almost tasteless-looking food. 

And as if sensing someone staring, you glance up. Drew immediately looks away, his gaze darting to his laptop home screen. 

It’s weird, awkward, and Drew hates how much he wants to invite you in. 

Loosening his tie with a quick tug, he sighs, trying to shake off the tightness that’s settled in his chest. He stands up from his desk, the decision to leave his office feeling heavier than it should. 

The moment you see his office door opening, you stop eating, looking up at him with your posture straightened. It’s as if you’ve already braced yourself for some last-minute request, a surprise meeting, or some sort of crisis.

Drew pauses in the doorway, watching your reaction. For a split second, he wonders if he should just turn back, retreat into the safety of his office. But the feeling nags at him. Something about your quiet, isolated lunch doesn’t sit right.

“There’s something I need you to look over,” he forces out the lie, “in my office.”

“Yeah- sure,” you reply, standing up. You smooth over your pencil skirt, walking over to him. 

As you pass by him, Drew catches the faintest whiff of your scent—something fresh and floral. It lingers, grounding him in the moment, and for a split second, his pulse quickens.

He’s reminded of last night, the way he had been so deeply absorbed into you. 

He swallows, trying to shake off the tension. His hand lingers at the doorframe longer than it should, almost as if trying to regain his sanity. 

You stand near his desk, and in his mind, he slightly panics about what to show you, or what to say. 

This morning, during the monthly patrols around different departments, it had already been awkward enough between the two of you. At least for Drew, since last night, his desire for you grew even more. 

Picking up the blue binder, he hands it to you. Your hands touch, and for a brief moment, there’s a jolt— enough for Drew to internally panic again. He leans against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He focuses his gaze onto the floor, waiting as you flip through the pages. 

“I checked it this morning,”

you say, confusion creeping into your voice. 

There’s a pause. Drew stiffens, the muscles in his neck tightening.

“Oh wait-“ you mumble to yourself, and Drew’s gaze flickers over to you. Your eyes squint down on one of the pages, “I typed the wrong budget.”

So there was a mistake. Huh. 

“You should check the rest,” Drew says, his voice low and almost too steady. 

He sees the way your hands curl around the binder, yet the voice that replies is awfully light, “yes, Mr Starkey.”

“Do it, in here,” Drew adds, nodding toward the small couch in the corner of his office, the one he keeps for guests.

He watches as you bend over his desk, grabbing the large stack of folders there. You then turn towards the couch, sitting down with folders on your lap. 

…what now?

Drew certainly got you to stay and accompany him, now he just needs a reason to make you eat. 

Right on cue, there’s a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Drew calls out, and the door swings open to reveal one of the staff members from the floor, holding a takeout bag.

Her eyes immediately dart over to you, and she fails to hide her surprised and slightly judgmental expression. She quickly masks it with a tight smile, “sir, your food has arrived.”

He doesn’t miss the look; instead, his expression remains neutral as he nods in your direction. Understanding, she quickly places the bag on the table, and she exits, but not before stealing another glance at you. 

Even as she walks past the office, she keeps looking through the glass walls. 

Good thing those walls are paired with smart glass technology—one press of a button and the transparency fades.

Drew hits the button without a second thought, the walls quickly turning cloudy, cutting off any further curious glances from the hallway.

Too focused on the binders, you fail to notice any of the changes. 

Drew walks over, the couch dipping under his weight as he sits down beside you. He starts unpacking the takeout, and silently thanks himself for ordering an extra Bolognese. 

As if it were second nature, he hands you the food, saying, “for you,”

He then proceeds to take the folders out of your lap, your eyes widening at his actions. 

He knows that look- you wear it during meetings, business dinners, patrols- the one where you take in everything, analyzing things in your head. It’s cute, because he knows you’re going to say something smart within a minute. 

But now, that same look makes him feel a little... off-balance. He isn’t sure what you’re thinking about this particular gesture, and suddenly, he feels the pressure of waiting for your response.

“No thanks, I have my own lunch,” you politely decline, masking a fake smile. 

You reach for the folders, but before your fingertips can even touch it, Drew shoves the fork into your hands. 

You glance up at him, only to find that he’s already digging into his own food, completely unbothered.

Okay. 

From the corner of his eye, Drew notices you start to eat as well. A small smile plays at the corner of his lips, but he quickly hides it behind a bite of his own food.

Drew watches you for a few bites, his eyes lingering on the way you eat, but he can tell right away that something’s off. The way you’re picking at your food, clearly distracted. It’s enough to make him feel a little self-conscious.

He shifts in his seat, causing his knee to bump against yours. It’s a subtle touch, and when he sees that you don’t notice it, he leaves it there. 

His fingers tap on the edge of his takeout container as he clears his throat, “something wrong?”

It must’ve came out rougher than expected, because you flinch slightly, your shoulders tensing. “No- no, it’s fine, delicious,” you emphasis on the word, forcefully stuffing a meatball into your mouth. 

You smile at him while chewing, not at all convincing. 

Drew’s tongue presses against his cheek, eyes narrowing slightly as he observes you. “…I thought we promised not to lie to each other.”

He brings up one of your first conversations, the one where you both agreed on full transparency. It was partly because of the dynamic—he was your boss, and you were his assistant—but also because he’d been genuinely curious about what was on your mind. 

It turned out to be useful last night, too, when you played the role of his fake girlfriend. You had your doubts, ones you voiced aloud, and he had listened—responding with just enough assurance to make you go along with it.

Your eyes bounce between his food to yours, slowly swallowing the one in your mouth. 

After a few seconds, you say, “everyone thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

Your head is tilted down, eyes looking up at him, almost sparkling, completely at odds with the flushed tone in your voice.

Drew’s heart misses a beat at the look, his breath catching for just a moment.

“…and they look at me like I’m the enemy.”

Oh. Is that why you ate alone? 

He’s also reminded of the fact that it was one of the things you worried about before being his fake girlfriend. Of being excluded and looked at differently by your co-workers. 

Shit. Now he feels like a total dickhead. 

“But, I agreed to be your girlfriend, so it’s fine,” your voice almost too calm, as if trying to convince both him and yourself.

Just as Drew opens his mouth, ready to apologize, you cut him off with a shift in tone.

“Oh, the Harringtons contacted,” you say, completely changing the subject. Your body shifts, leaning closer to him, your knee now brushing against the side of his thigh.

Drew nods, barely pausing his chewing. But then you add a crucial detail that makes him slow down, his fork halting mid-air.

“At their new house. Just, the four of us.”

His grip on the fork tightens for a moment, and his gaze flickers from the plate to you, a mix of curiosity and something else. "Just us?" he repeats, a little too casually.

“Yeah- but I wasn’t sure if you wanted that, so I said I’d have to check-“

“No, it’s fine,” he cuts you off, hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate to play-pretend with you again. “Add it into my schedule.”

“It’s tomorrow night,” your voice dropping to a hushed tone, like it would be a secret if you said it any louder.

“You got something planned?” 

A flicker of surprise flashes on your face, before you quickly shake your head. 

He sees the pink blush painted on your cheeks, the corner of your lips curling, “no, nothing,” you murmur, your fork stabbing around the Bolognese again, “I’ll add it to your schedule.” 

Are you shy? Or just reluctant to decline his request? 

Drew isn’t sure, but the flutter in his chest is undeniable.

Despite being your boss, the professional distance he should maintain, he realizes something: his little crush on you might just be growing, maybe even flourishing. The idea of spending more time like this—pretending, playing along—only makes it worse.

He catches himself, quickly returning to his meal to cover up the sudden heat creeping up his neck. 

But his thoughts don’t wander too far from you.

——

Harrington residence, 7.05PM. 

Drew presses the doorbell, standing closely beside you on the front porch.

The dim light from the overhead fixture casts a soft glow, illuminating your features. As you step out of the dark car, he notices the light makeup you’ve carefully applied.

Drew tries not to stare, but the effect is hard to ignore. 

You’re beautiful, and it physically pains him that he can’t say that to you. 

The door opens after a couple of seconds, and it’s Mr Harrington with a bright smile on his face. 

“Starkey! Hey,” Mr Harrington pulls Drew into a hug, catching him off-guard. 

Drew stiffens for a moment, but then hugs back, his arms reluctantly wrapping around Mr Harrington in a quick, half-hearted embrace.

He pulls away just as quickly, flashing a polite smile. “Good to see you, Harrington,” Drew says, trying to brush off the awkwardness that lingers from the surprise hug. His eyes flicker over to you, curious if you're as caught off guard as he was.

You are, because you’re pulled into a half-hug too. 

“Y/n,” Mr Harrington greets, “you guys can call me James,”

First name basis with clients/partners means that this business deal is definitely happening. 

“Come in, come in,” James says, moving away from the doorway. 

Drew’s hand lingers over your waist for just a moment, guiding you through the door before following in behind you. The warmth of the house immediately surrounds him, and he takes in the cozy atmosphere—a soft blend of modern comfort and lived-in charm.

It’s not what Drew expected from a high-profile client, but then again, James and his wife always had a down-to-earth vibe. The living room is cozy, bathed in warm light and tasteful décor that feels more like a home than a showcase.

“Coats here,” James points over to the coat rack just by the door, “dinner’s almost ready, you two can wait by the living room.”

“We’d love to help,” you immediately offer, shrugging off your overcoat. 

Drew’s eyes land on your outfit, a long-sleeved turtleneck dress, that hugs your figure in all the right places. 

His gaze lingers, before he quickly averts his attention, focusing on taking his own coat off. His hands reach for your coat, hanging it up for you. A murmured ‘thanks’ leaves your lips as you await James’ answer. 

“Nonsense, you’re the guests,” James says, “living room’s that way.”

With that, he leaves to the kitchen, leaving just you and Drew. 

“Should we…?” You awkwardly ask, cocking your head over to the living room. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Drew chuckles, the sound coming out throaty. 

The two of you walk side by side, and once inside, you both sit down on the large, plush couch.

Drew leans back, spreading his legs comfortably. You, on the other hand, sit up straighter, crossing your legs at the ankle, your posture a bit more reserved.

And because it felt right, Drew casually drapes his arm over the back of the couch, his hand hovering just inches away from your shoulders. 

“You nervous?” Drew asks, his voice low, almost teasing, though his eyes stay focused on you, observing for any sign of discomfort. 

But he knows you too well; professionalism at best. You wouldn’t let tension show, even if it’s thick enough to feel. 

“Just wondering…” your eyes stay glued to the huge fireplace in the living room, “if it’s real.”

A soft laugh escapes him, finding it amusing how it’s your first thought upon entering. “What?”

“I mean, you have a fake one,” you say, before turning your head to him. 

You’ve got a small smile on your face, one that’s shy yet teasing. Drew's lips twitch, fighting a smile of his own as he catches the hint of mischief in your eyes.

“So you a fireplace enthusiastic now?”

“Yes, you see this badge right here?” You press lightly on your right boob, making Drew’s eyes land on the imaginary badge. 

You then laugh at your own lame joke, the sound light and playful, and for a moment, it fills the space between you. Drew can’t help but grin, his heart fluttering at how natural this feels, like two friends hanging out, no titles, no power dynamics—just comfortable.

He likes the feeling. 

He likes it very much.  

He likes you. 

Very much. 

Your laughter dies down, and then, you finally lean back onto the couch with Drew. You’re closer to him than expected, your knees touching his again. 

Staring at your side profile, the words leave his mouth before he even processes them: “You’re beautiful.”

Fuck. 

The words hang in the air for a moment. Drew immediately feels the heat rise in his chest, his pulse quickening. 

You’re suppose to keep that to yourself, idiot. 

Then, slowly, your eyes catches his, a flicker of surprise, then, turning into something casual, as if brushing the compliment off. 

“Thanks,” you say, your voice coming out more hushed, “tried something new with the makeup.”

It’s not the makeup; it’s you. 

This time, Drew’s able to keep that comment to himself. 

“Looks great,” he murmurs, and feeling the weight of the eye contact, he looks down at his lap. 

After a few seconds, unable to bear with the silence, you add on, “learned from my niece.”

Drew raises an eyebrow at your direction, and you say more explicitly, “my niece is fourteen, and she knows way more than me.”

“Really?” Drew asks, tone laced with amusement and curiosity. 

He knows you have a niece. And a nephew. Both twins. 

He’s not supposed to know this much about your personal life. But he remembers when you mentioned your niece and nephew once a long time ago, the way your eyes softened when you talked about them.

He knows a lot more than he should, but it's not like he’s snooping. He just… pays attention.

It’s not creepy, right?

“This winged eyeliner?” You point to your eyes, “she did this.”

“Impressive,” he nods, a small smirk on his lips. 

He gets ready to ask more, to say more, when Mrs Harrington walks in, informing that dinner was ready. 

Drew stands up, and as you rise to follow Mrs. Harrington, your body brushing past him, Drew catches that familiar scent again—the floral, fresh fragrance. 

Nothing to clench against to this time, so his hands ball into fists, fingers digging into his palms, trying to suppress the sudden wave of heat flooding his chest.

“After you,” he says, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You flash him a smile, one that’s completely innocent, like you’re unaware of the effect you’re having on him. 

He forces himself to move, following you into the dining room, but it’s harder to ignore the way his pulse races with each step closer to you.

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

word count: 2.7k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i love writing in drew's pov...bc he's just down bad for me

seriously tho...if you guys like it, i can make it into a series. anyways, hope you liked this! imo, i prefer writing slow burning angst and tension scenes, rather than smut...idk, just something about it makes me blush.

a little tmi, but my drafts currently rest with casual extra III, and not a big deal final so be patient with me! my progress is slow, but trust- i only do it to deliver the best for you.

unofficial taglist aka the ppl that supported me to write another part (ily: @ecstqzy @drewwhor @melvigaristaa @wheeniemyloove

[mumblesplash]

uh oh 👀👀👀

Z shines like an angel in the light of the burning debris falling around him. A grin on his face and a lit bomb in hand—unleashed.

S watches him fondly from the cover of a street pole

It's good to see him like this, she thinks. Even if it can't last for long.

"Back up a bit, Z!"

The voice of T-piece slices S from her reveries. She points her shotgun towards the club entrance, covering Z's retreat.

The brass grate road is scattered with the remains of a carriage and the mechanical steeds that once pulled it. Looking at the corpse of the alternate inside it—her own—S knows that Z's intervention came just in time. Even in death, the clone is fuzzy around the edges. There must've been two or three universes intersecting at that point already, and the rot was about to burst.  If the clone had been allowed to lay eyes on S-prime…well, it’s a good thing Z got there first!

In through a crack in the base of S's mind flows a steady trickle of new memories—a whole life lived under violet skies—ended in flames within the carriage before her now.  Samantha.

S dashes those memories away with a hum of her favorite showtune. It shouldn't be this easy, but she's had a lot of practice.

An L-clone crawls sobbing from the wreckage. Burnt and broken, with too many limbs and more and more eyes with each passing second—

S unloads into its center mass, stopping the reaction short. A satisfying gurgle rewards her.

This world is more spoiled than we thought, S muses.

Not that she cares all that much. It's one of those tech worlds that's killed most of its plants—S-prime couldn't even find a window-box to poach.  Useless. It's been too long since she's had something new to add to the garden—

"S, on your right!"

A rush of air as someone sweeps past S's side. The familiar smell of sweat. Bare shoulders glistening in the violet city lights.

T-piece bounds over the wreckage like a young god of war, one hand swinging a metal bat and the other wielding a set of brass knuckles edged with an outward-facing blade—a trench spike. T dives low, a practiced movement taking them just under the spread of her shotgun. S fires again into the chest of the Z-clone running out of the club. She feels more than sees T-piece taking down somone in her periphery. The crunch of impact sounds suspiciously non-fatal—so it's probably some world resident looking to make themselves a hero that he's dealing with.

Whoever you are, be thankful sweet T-piece dealt with you before you got to me.

More bodies stream out of the club’s open doors, dressed in glitter and glass and wearing faces of panic—none of them known to her.  S lets them flow around her unscathed.  A twisting pair of Z-clones emerges and S is ready to meet them.

From down the street charge a gaggle of familiar faces—but before S can more than register them out of the corner of her eye a series of muffled shots drops them one by one.

Mighty I-prime.  Efficient as always. The bastard.

A second later one of Z's bombs belatedly lands on the corpses and detonates.

"You fucking show off!" Z shouts towards I-prime's position above. "I had this!"

No reply save smug silence.   

"Of course you did, darling," S says, turning to cover the other end of the street. "You're where you're supposed to be, unlike someone."

S waits for T-piece to tell them to focus, to save it for the post-mission angry sex (which never really works out the pressure points but it does soothe them for awhile)—but this time…

He doesn't.

Strange.

S's watch blares a sudden alarm—one short blast and three longs. She has scant moments to shield her face with a forearm before J is released from the Hold.

The windows on the ground floor of the club all shatter at once. A hailstorm of knives whistles above S's head. A warm mist settles over her skin—the blood of alternates, shed from J's blades as they fly by.

S whoops from adrenaline and delight. Z answers her with a cackle, his laughter rising up like a firework ascending to beautiful destruction.  Z reaches up into the gap between the worlds and pulls down a string of firecrackers.  He races towards the club doors and the battle beyond, lighting fuses as he flies.

“Wait!” T-piece screams. “Z, stop!”

S gets it a moment later.

In the street around the club they’ve encountered alternates of I, of herself, of L and J.  Coming out of the  club, however…

It’s just been Z.

We knew most of the Z-clones would be inside, that’s why we were supposed to cover down the street, not the entrance!

S bellows Z’s name.

All those Z-clones, in a world this badly spoiled—if they see their prime, is that a chain reaction we can even stop?

Z turns his head towards their cries.  S prays for him to understand—

But before Z has a chance to stop himself, a higher power intervenes.

Emerald vines, thick as a wrist and lined with sharp prickles, burst from a fold in space beneath Z’s feet and entangle him.  Z hollers in shock and in pain—but is halted.

“What the fuck?” Z calls, thrashing against the Hold.

S rushes to him.  Fuck the fight, fuck the mission, and fuck I-piece for being in the wrong damn spot!

And T-piece doesn’t stop her.  S glimpses them as her feet fly.  T stands still and upright in the haze of blood and viscera.  Their eyes carry a blunt anger that burns even from S’s periphery.

“Hold the line!” T-piece shouts.  “I’m gonna find I.  And have a talk.”

S doesn’t turn back to respond, only raising a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

Later, that will haunt her.  That she didn’t turn to see T go.

On the bloody brass street S faces Z, furious and helpless, and embraces him.  She presses her body against his thorns and nips at the lobe of his ear.      

“I fucked up,” Z breathes into her neck.

“I know, darling.  It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Z repeats.  “I'm alright. Hold the line.”

“I know.”

One more squeeze—to make them both yelp, to intermingle the blood from fresh scratches, to remind Z that pain is nothing but together they are everything—and S returns her focus to the broken windows before her.

T-piece is right, S thinks.  Z's right. Gotta focus. We can't go losing worlds for dumb reasons.

The idle thought slips through her brain like a trout through a stream, unopposed and unquestioned. It's something S simply knows—the same way she knows what dolphins are and who Judy Garland is and how the Martian Civil War was lost and that plants need light to grow.

Wouldn't want the Boss getting angry.

alright here's the rundown. more detailed version coming soon probably. the things i do for you guys

(transcript of prologue below the cut)

It's a lavender sky this time, this world. A lavender sky deepening to aubergine over a city of neon and brass. It's beautiful in it's way, just like any other city on any other world.

I-prime hasn't bothered to learn its name.

He stands in the hotel window, watching the burnished streets below gleam with fading light. The rhythmic thrum beneath his feet signals the rousing of the club below. They're playing a song that I has never heard in his life, yet part of him remembers it all the same.

The blank-faced watch on his wrist chimes a single long tone. I-piece taps its face without taking his eyes off the path into the nightclub.

"Hello, T."

"You're not in position," T says through the speaker. Their voice betrays none of the frustration that I knows he must feel.

"I'm where I need to be," I-prime says.

"We talked about this—"

"Yes, you talked, that's what you do. I make decisions."

T-piece's response is cut off by further chimes from the watch. Short, long, short, short—then the voice of L comes through.

"There's no time," she says. "The Boss just Held onto J. It's on, it's now."

"As expected," says I.

With a snap of his fingers the air before him splits. I-prime reaches into the crack between two universes and retrieves his sniper rifle. He looks down its sights, out the window, down the gleaming street.

Someone approaches the door to the club. A tall, svelt man with a face that I-prime is so sick of seeing other people wear.

I wonder what this one's named, I-prime muses as he lines up the shot.

Izaak? Ignacius? Indigo?

As he pulls the trigger on himself from another life, I-prime knows it doesn't matter what this alternate is called.

He lost track of their names a long time ago.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 1 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy

❥ A/N: hello!! I compiled the first two drabbles of this series into one fic! Im hoping to continue the fics in the future :) feedback is always appreciated!!

It's when he brings you flowers for the third time that you become a little suspicious of his intentions.

"He likes you," your coworker whispers as he leaves. "When are you gonna give him the chance?"

You shrug, putting the flowers on the counter by the register, rearranging them a bit.

"I think he's just trying to be nice."

"Why in the world would he keep bringing you flowers if he wasn't interested in you?" She grabs your shoulder, pulling you to face her. "The next time he comes in, just ask him how he feels. Maybe he'll be more direct and tell you how he feels."

Two days later, he's back, carrying a red bag. He approaches the counter, opposite hand in his pocket.

"The usual?" your coworker asks, but he's not looking at her, staring at you across the room, watching you steam milk. You pour the milk in a paper cup, placing down the pitcher and finally making eye contact with him. The two of you stare at each other, your coworker glancing back and forth before approaching you.

"Let me take over," she says, taking the cup from you and putting on a lid. She leans in to whisper. "Ask him."

You glance at her before looking back at him, running your hands over your apron, approaching the register where he stands.

"The usual?" you ask, and he nods. You click on the screen, bringing up his order. "Anything else?"

"What's your favorite drink?"

You twist your lip, looking up in thought.

"It's a little complicated."

"Tell me."

You take a deep breath.

"Well, I like to get two ristretto shots over ice, add two blue sugars, sometimes I add toffeenut or white mocha, and then I add oatmilk. Or soy, if I want some protein."

He hums.

"One of those too."

You pause, tilting your head quizzically before reaching towards the register.

"What size?"

"Whatever size you get."

You squint in thought, typing in the order. You give him the total, let him insert his credit card, and grab the cups you need. You make his order quickly, placing it at the other end of the counter where he now stands. You work on the second drink, placing it in front of him a minute later. He doesn't move for either drink.

"Is... there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah." He pushes the second drink back towards you. "Drink this for me."

"I—"

"And take this." He places the red bag on the counter next to the drink.

"Uh... what is it?" He nods towards the bag.

"Open it."

You hesitate, sliding the bag towards you and glancing inside.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, you think as you reach in and take out a heavy box wrapped in plastic.

"Perfect by Marc Jacobs?" you ask in a whisper. You glance up at him and he's just staring at you, an intense look in his eye. You swallow, peeling off the plastic and opening the box. You pull out the bottle, removing the cap and sniffing.

"Smells nice." You put the cap back on and look at him again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

You both stand there silently for a moment before you put the perfume back in the box.

"Did you get this for me because I smell?"

His eyes widen, his hands raised.

"I didn't—"

He stops when you smile and laugh, tossing the plastic in the trash.

"I'm just messing with ya." You see his shoulders loosen as he lowers his arms, a smirk creeping up on his lips.

"Funny."

You move the bag behind the counter, making sure there wasn't a line before returning to him.

"Do you usually buy perfume for girls?"

"No," he replies quickly, finally taking his drink. "Just you."

You hum, grabbing the drink he bought for you.

"Why?"

He swallows his drink, staring at you the whole time.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Um... no, not really."

He scoffs, putting his cup down.

"The flowers, the perfume... what do you think it means?"

"Uh..." You glance at your coworker who's just leaning against the counter, smiling as she watches the two of you. "I, um... I thought you were just trying to be nice."

"You think buying perfume for a stranger is 'trying to be nice'?"

"I don't know," you reply defensively. "I just don't see why else you would give me stuff."

He leans his hands against the counter, bringing his eyes down to your level.

"You really can't think of any reason why someone would bring you flowers and perfume?"

You pause, then shrug, pouting at him. He sighs, hanging his head before standing up straight, grabbing his cup.

"Guess I'll have to try harder next time."

You scrunch your eyebrows as he starts walking away.

"Try what next time?" He doesn't answer, opening the front door. "Try what next time?" you yell after him, but he's already gone, taking a right and walking down the street.

You're dumbstruck. Your coworker starts squealing and jogs to you.

"Oh my god, the tension was so thick I could cut it with a knife!" She giggles and bounces. "I can't believe my work bestie is being pursued by a guy like that!"

"He's not pursuing me." She groans, throwing her head back.

"Alright, sure, keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile he'll keep bringing you flowers and then it'll be chocolate and jewelery and–"

You zone out, not paying attention. You glance at the drink he bought for you, wondering.

"He's coming!" your coworker whispers to you, bouncing for a moment before regaining her composure as he walked through the door. He approaches the counter, glancing at her before staring at you. He's carrying a bouquet of roses and a red box wrapped with a white bow.

"You're here for her, right?" she asks, pointing at you. He nods, and she turns, giving you two thumbs up as she walks past you, moving to the other side of the coffee bar. You pause, unsure, but eventually make your way to the register.

"Your usual?" you ask, but he shakes his head.

"Not today." He hands out the flowers and box. "For you."

"I..." You don't know what to say, so you just take the gifts, giving an awkward smile. "Thank you...?"

He nods towards the box.

"Open it."

You try not to show how nervous you are, putting down the roses on the counter. You peel the white ribbon from the box, taking off the red lid.

"Holy fuck?" you whisper, putting down the lid and pulling out a string of pearls. "What is this?"

"They're pearls."

"Yeah, I can see that, but why are you giving them to me?"

"Do you not like them?"

"No, I do like pearls, but–" You put the pearls back in the box, staring up at him. "Why are you giving them to me?"

"So you can wear them."

You roll your eyes.

"What? No, really? I thought I was supposed to eat them."

He smiles.

"You're funny. I like that."

You sigh, putting the lid back on the box, setting it down on the counter.

"Look, you've been really nice, but I don't think this is appropriate."

He glares.

"Why?"

"Well," you start, fiddling with your fingers, "I don't think your girlfriend would like you giving me all these things."

"I don't have a girlfriend." You blink.

"Well, I don't think your boyfriend would—"

He laughs, deep and gruff. It makes your stomach flip in the best way.

"I'm not into men."

"Then... well, why would you—"

"Look," he starts, leaning against the counter. "I want you to wear those pearls. I want you to wear the perfume I got you too. I want you to wear them to dinner with me."

Your cheeks burn. You swallow hard.

"W-Why do you want to have dinner with me?"

"You'll see." He stands up, reaching his hand out. "May I see your phone?"

You hesitate, but reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and handing it to him. He takes it gently—holy fuck his hands are big—and taps at the screen for a little while. He hands the phone back to you, smirking at you. You read the screen, seeing his phone number and contact name: Future Husband 💕.

You sputter, wondering if your face could burn any hotter as you look up at him.

"Send me your address: I'll pick you up on Friday at seven."

Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving the coffee shop. Your coworker squeals behind you.

"Oh my god, girl! I am totally living vicariously through you."

You huff, changing his phone contact to something more sensible.

Buff Guy

[flowery-mess]

uh oh

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / alcohol / protected sex / friends with benefits / let me know if anything else should be taged!

Words: 3,7k

frat boy Noah masterlist

Author's note: I fell in love with frat boy Noah while writing this, so feel free to elaborate or send thots, I'll maybe make this a 'thing', maybe series? What do you think?

Inspired by this song:

feel your eyes watchin' me, so I'm movin' on him just so you can see, told you I was gonna get you right back, oh, you don't really like that? ✨

You and Noah met at sociology class you both had to attend in junior year at college. Your majors not similar at all, his being economics and finance and your neuropsychology. You never had the same classes until now, so he was just another one of pretty school boys for you. You never paid much attention to him as you were actually interested in topics your professor talked about in classes, but you couldn’t say the same about Noah. You caught his eye the first week of when he entered the big study room and you were the first one there, working on your neurology project with headphones on. When you noticed movement around you and lifted your head, Noah only gave you a small nod and sat few rows behind you. That was your first encounter.

Your second encounter was when you were at the opening party at a frat house. You liked going out, having fun time and drinks with your friends. You usually let them pick the place or party you’re going to be attending, so you didn’t have a clue where you’d end up that night. You had pre drinks at your shared dorm with your two best friends, picking outfits and doing each other’s makeup. You ended up wearing black leather skirt that ended just above your knees, basic black top and matching leather jacket over your shoulders. That was bold outfit for you, so you decided for some natural makeup look with red lips. You felt good that night, the alcohol in your system helping your confidence.

When you entered the frat house the party was already on, music on full volume and people all over the place. You found some of your classmates and had shots with them, then settled on the big red couch in the living room to play some stupid game that involved alcohol.

After while your friends were too occupied either with kissing boys or chugging vodka down their throats, so you went to find kitchen to have some water for a change.

“Wouldn’t think of you as a party girl.” you heard deep male voice behind you, but didn’t know if he was talking to you. When you looked around and saw only few younger boys chatting in the corner about god knows what, you turned around to see the pretty tatted boy looking at you.

“Why not?” you asked.

“You look like someone who spends their Friday night studying at home. You always have book in front of you at school.” Noah answered your question with a teasing smile.

“Well, that’s so I can have fun on a Friday night instead of reading books.” you crossed your arms over your chest, not knowing where this small talk will get you.

“Smart and funny, I like that.” he said, taking small steps towards you.

“So, you’re part of the fraternity then?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You look like someone who spends their Friday night partying and having one night stands.” you shot back.

“You’re almost right. I am in this fraternity, I like partying on Friday nights,” he slowly walked in your direction, making you walk backwards until your back hit the counter and he caged you in with his arms on your sides, “but I don’t do one night stands.”

You felt his breath on your cheek, as he leaned closer to your face.

“Oh, sorry for making assumptions then.” you said just a bit louder than whisper.

You didn’t do one night stands either, but you blamed alcohol that night for ending with Noah between your legs, his tongue deep inside your pussy and your fingers in his dark hair. You had sex with him in a room you later found out wasn’t even his, he lived in an apartment 10 minutes away from the campus. The sex was great and you actually enjoyed talking with him after he got you finish for the second time that night.

Since then you said “Hi” to each other at every sociology class and at every party you both were. Leaving those parties together also became regular thing that grew into friends with benefits type of thing. You agreed on casual sex, without dates and feelings. You sometimes ordered food or watched movie, but never in a romantic way. And you liked it that way.

Until Noah started flirting with other girls at parties. You weren’t jealous, because it was always you who was screaming his name later, but you didn’t like the uneasy feeling in your tummy everytime you saw a girl touch his bicep or him to lean down to the girls ear so she could hear what he was saying.

You liked what you two had and didn’t want to lose it. So you talked to him about it one night, which lead to an argument instead of sex and orgasms. He told you that it’s just harmless flirting and if you’re jealous that means you caught feelings for him and that he doesn’t want that. You tried to tell him it’s not like that, that you just don’t want to continue this thing between you if he wants to have sex with other girls and that you would understand if he would want to end it, but he didn’t listen. You didn’t talk to each other for three weeks and he made sure you saw every single one of his flirt attempts at parties.

So you decided to do the same tonight. You went for short black dress with deep V neck that made your boobs look amazing. The dress probably made the trick as you found yourself talking with a guy from the same fraternity Noah was part of. You were leaning against the wall in their living room as he hovered over you. You didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying, you were watching Noah with red haired girl at the couch. When your eyes met you saw something in Noah’s eyes that you haven’t seen there before. Jealousy? Anger? His eyes were dark and he was staring at you.

The boy who’s name you forgot like ten seconds after he told you, started touching your hips and leaning towards you too much for you liking, so you excused yourself and went for the bathroom.

“What the hell was that?” you heard Noah’s voice when you opened the bathroom door and he was leaning against the wall opposite you.

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“What kind of show was that supposed to be?” he was angry, you could hear it in his voice.

“A show? You mean the same show you’ve been doing the past three weeks? It’s not so nice from the other side, is it?”

He didn’t want to hear another word, so he pushed you back into the tiny bathroom.

I’m yours again when you walk away, you know if you leave, I ain't gonna stay, when I'm doin' good, you get me off track, and I guess I kinda like that. ✨

“Come to my place with me?” Noah said between kisses and lifted you so you sat next to the sink.

He was jealous, but wouldn’t admit it. But you felt it in the way he was kissing you, his tongue fighting for dominance and his hands in your hair, pulling at them every once in a while.

“Say you’re sorry Noah.” you said breathlessly, leaning back from him until your back touched the cold mirror behind you.

“Sorry for what?” he had your lipstick all over his lips and chin, he looked hot like that, marked.

“Noah.” you knew he knew what you were asking from him, but he was too proud to say it.

“Come to my place with me and let me show you how sorry I am?” he asked you, already kneeling in front of you. He knew what your weakness is, so how could you say no to him when he was already pulling your panties to the side.

you make me really, really good at makin' bad decisions, all my friends know where to look every time I go missin', seven texts and two missed calls, know I can't ignore 'em all, said that I'm gonna be sleepin' at mine, i lied. ✨

You knew you should have said no, but you missed him. You missed his touch, his hands all over your body, his mouth on your skin and how good he could make you feel.

After your argument three weeks ago, your friends told you that you should stop seeing him, that what he started doing wasn’t acceptable and that you should know your worth, but he was just so addictive. So when your friends saw you two leave, you felt ashamed and tried to avoid their stare. You knew that you’ll find missed calls and unread messages on your phone in the morning, but you didn’t care at that moment. You just wanted, no, needed to feel Noah’s skin on yours again. You craved him, the satisfaction he was able to give you.

uh oh, I couldn't help myself, i'm almost at your house again, again, uh oh, I'm one foot in the door, my clothes are on your floor again, again. i get a little drunk and it's all I want, tomorrow I'll be sick, but tonight I'm numb, uh oh, now we can just pretend, we won't do it again, again, again. ✨

The drive to Noah’s place was short, the taxi driver’s music loud enough for him not to hear all the dirty things Noah whispered in your ear.

“I hated Trevor’s hands on your body, only I can touch you.”

“I miss your mouth on my dick, you’re so good.”

“I’m gonna make you scream my name baby.”

He was selfish. He hated another man’s hands on you, yet he could touched dozen of other women. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to be strong enough to not get in the taxi with him and go back to Trevor who actually looked interested in you and maybe would take you out on a proper date.

Instead you left with Noah, knowing how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna have a great sex, fall asleep in his arms, sneak out in the morning and then feel like shit. You’re gonna listen to your friends about how you’re just hurting yourself and wasting time with him, them making you promise it was the last time, only to break that promise at the next party.

roll your eyes like you do, shoulda known it's always the same with you, tryin' not to feel our connection, but, oh my god, it's kinda temptin' ✨

In the elevator you walked Noah back until his body hit the wall and went for his neck. Leaving lipstick all over his skin, licking and biting his sensitive spots. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before he closed them fully and left his mouth hanging open. Silent moans leaving his pink lips, until the elevator stopped at his floor.

you said, "Can we leave now?", i don't think we should, through the back door, that won't end good, how 'bout my place? shit, you know I would, then I'll follow you out, hope nobody looks. ✨

“Do you want a drink?” Noah asked you, really hoping your answer would be no so he could take you straight to his bed.

“Yes, wine is fine.” you said as you started taking off your coat, taking in the sight of familiar apartment you haven’t seen in weeks.

Noah took out two glasses and filled them with white wine, then handed one to you. You sipped on your drinks in quiet, you sitting at Noah’s kitchen counter and him standing next to the oven.

“Did you have sex with anyone in the last few weeks?” you managed to build the courage to ask him the question that was in the back of your mind for weeks.

“What?” he looked genuinely confused.

“You heard me.”

“No, the last time I had sex was with you.”

“Then why did you start flirting with all those girls in front of me, Noah?”

“It’s just for fun, you were the one I took home in the end.”

“It wasn’t fun for me.”

“That’s why you did the same with Trevor tonight?”

“And you didn’t like it, or did you?”

“No.”

“We said no to sleeping with other people, I just felt like you wanted to and you flirting with all those girls made me feel uncomfortable. That’s all.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again if we go back to our thing.” his apology seemed genuine, so you nodded your head.

“Okay, but you can tell me if you want to stop and date someone, I’ll be fine with that.” you finished your wine at the same time Noah did. He took the glass from your hand and put them both in the sink. When he returned, he came much closer to you and put his hands on your thighs.

“I don’t want to date anyone, I told you that.” he rubbed his nose along your jaw, then he gently kissed your neck and you tilted your head back to give him more access.

He made sure to suck on your sensitive spots, he desperately needed to hear your moans.

you make me really, really good at makin' bad decisions, all my friends know where to look every time I go missin', seven texts and two missed calls, know I can't ignore 'em all, said that I'm gonna be sleepin' at mine, i lied. ✨

“Lay down.” he helped you lay down on the cold counter and then continued kissing you more. He went for your chest, kissing the top of your breaths that were close to spilling over the edge of your lacy bra.

He palmed your nipples through the fabric of your dress, smirking at the sound that came from your mouth.

Noah rolled your dress up to your waist and kissed your tummy until he reached the lacy panties you wore, matching your bra.

“Poor Trevor, bet he would love to see those too.” Noah teased you.

“Shut up Noah.” you lifted your hips to give him sign he should talk less and touch you more.

He took the hint and gladly slid the panties down your legs.

“Fuck I missed you.” he sighed at the view in front of him. You were laying down with legs spread open just for him. Your cheeks were pink and your chest was going up and down from the excitement.

Noah kneeled down so he’d face your core and put your legs over his shoulders so he could spread you open as much as he needed to.

He took his time, licking you from you entrance to your clit, tasting you like a starved man. His tongue explored you like it was for the first time, slowly and gently moving up and down.

“Oh Noah.” you let out a breathy moan only he could hear. He felt himself grow tighter in his pants, but he wanted to give you an apology before he’d fuck you senselessly.

He sucked on your clit, teasing your pussy with his long fingers. He spread you open with them and went to slowly fuck you with his tongue. His other hand made its way to your clit, collecting your wetness so he could gently rub small circles where you wanted it the most.

“Noah, I’m-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt the start of your orgasm in your lower tummy. Noah had to put more pressure on your hips to hold you down, but continued with his moves until he felt your legs shake and your breath stop for a second. You squeezed his head with your thighs and let out the sexiest sounds out of your mouth.

After he was sure he licked you clean, he took you in his arms and started walking in the direction of his bedroom.

He laid you down in his bed and connected your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips, that alone made you want him more.

You helped him out of his clothes until he was only in his underwear and you pushed him down so he was laying under you. You straddled his lap, enjoying the view for a moment. He was looking at you with eyes full of lust, his hair messily laying around his head. He was waiting for you next move, letting you take control for now.

You took your dress and bra off at the same time and Noah immediately went to touch your boobs. He squeezed them and started playing with your nipples. Your head fell back and your hips moved involuntary.

The wetness from your core already making wet spot on Noah’s underwear, but both of you couldn’t care less.

You shifted your weight to one of your legs and shimmied Noah’s underwear down his legs. His dick fell back against his stomach, hard and swollen, waiting for you to take him.

You wrapped your fingers around his length and he gripped your hips as an reaction. You stroked him few times, collecting the pre cum and enjoyed the state Noah was in. He had his eyes closed in a bliss, gripping your hips like his life depended on it.

“Fuck me, please.” he groaned, knowing he wouldn’t last long if you’d keep stroking him.

You reached into his drawer and took a condom out. You took your time putting it on, teasing Noah along the way.

You took Noah’s dick in your hand and collected your wetness with it, then gently slid down his whole length.

You both made unnatural sounds and you sat still for a moment, enjoying the fullness and stretch he was giving you.

When you started moving your hips, Noah reached for your right hand and intertwined your fingers, giving you his hand for balance. Your eyes were closed and mouth open, as you were riding his dick in slow motions.

“That’s it, god yes!” Noah encouraged you to keep going with his words, squeezing your fingers when it felt particularly good. “Touch yourself baby.” he told you, and you did as you were told.

You didn’t pay much attention to the word baby, as it was something he went for regularly. Instead you paid attention to your fingers touching your clit, feeling another orgasm closer and closer.

Noah felt you squeeze him and he knew you were close, he wanted you to have one more orgasm before he finished, so he encouraged you with his words. “Come on, cum on my dick. That’s it, you can let go.” as if it was the last thing you needed for actually letting go, the orgasm took over you and you fell to Noah’s chest.

He hold you, whispering gentle things in your ear as you tried to even your breath.

When he knew you were okay to continue, he started kissing your neck and gently lifted you from him and you felt him slide out of you, suddenly feeling empty. He switched your positions, you were now laying under him, ready for more.

“You good?” he asked you, wanting some kind of permission to continue.

“Mhm.” was all you could get out before attacking his lips with yours, pulling him down by his neck.

He lined himself at your entrance and slowly slid in. His head fell in the crook of your neck and you enjoyed feeling him inside you again.

His movements were slow at first, his hand slid around you throat and he put a bit of pressure on it, just like you liked it.

“You feel so good around my dick, fuck!” Noah managed to say between taking deep breaths. You felt so good and so loved at the moment. You knew there were no feelings, but the way Noah knew your body and where to touch you or what to say, that made you feel loved.

He went to kiss you, but instead you both left your mouth open and moaned into each other’s open lips as both of your orgasm started to build inside your bodies.

Noah’s rhythm became irregular and you felt his hand on your clit.

“Noah, fuck!” you breathed out when you felt the orgasm build inside you for the third time, more intensive than before.

You felt the Noah’s dick twitch inside you and you knew he was cuming, he grunted next to your ear in bliss.

Hearing him reach his high with his hand still on your clit pushed you over the edge and you came seconds after him.

He collapsed on top of you, staying inside you until his dick softened.

He moved you both so he was laying on his back and were laying on his chest, both of you still catching your breaths before you went to clean yourselves.

uh oh, I couldn't help myself, i'm almost at your house again, again, uh oh, I'm one foot in the door, my clothes are on your floor again, again. i get a little drunk and it's all I want, tomorrow I'll be sick, but tonight I'm numb, uh oh, now we can just pretend, we won't do it again, again, again. ✨

After you took shower and changed into Noah’s t-shirt, you laid in his bed waiting for him to finish washing up.

You had toothbrush, make up remover and underwear at his place. He didn’t mind, he also didn’t mind you staying the night and then leaving his place before he woke up.

You enjoyed falling asleep next to him, sometimes you would talk until 2AM about anything, sometimes you would watch movie and sometimes you would fall asleep straight away.

You watched him dry off his body with white towel through his mirror, wondering if you would go back to hooking up every weekend after tonight or if something is going to change. You knew your friends will try to talk some sense into you tomorrow, but for now you just wanted to pretend like there is no tomorrow.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tag list: @lacy1986 @chey-h

Click here to get on my tag list

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Six of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock.

Word Count: 3,583

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, domestic violence, police work, gun violence, pregnancy

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I couldn't resist--I gotta have me some Beau while writing Dean! This is a brand new story of Beau and female reader!

Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Six: Best Laid Plans

The trailer was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the wind brushing against the walls. Outside, the Montana wilderness stretched into the night, the stars scattered like diamonds across an endless sky. Beau Arlen leaned against the counter, nursing a cold beer, while Carla sat on the worn couch, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“Emily’s really loving Texas,” Carla said, her voice soft but filled with pride. “She’s got her groove. A great group of friends, professors who actually challenge her... it’s like she’s found her place.”

Beau smiled, nodding. “She’s always been a smart one. College just gave her room to spread her wings.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes. Feels like yesterday I was teachin’ her to ride a bike.”

“Now she’s navigating Austin like a pro,” Carla said, smiling. “We did good, Beau. She’s thriving because of us.”

“Mostly you,” Beau replied, tipping his beer toward her. “You kept her steady when I... well, you know.”

Carla waved him off. “That’s the past. You’ve always been there when it mattered. And she knows it.”

Beau nodded, the warmth of her words settling over him. “You think she’s okay down there, all that way from home?”

“She misses you,” Carla said, meeting his eyes. “You should go see her. You showing up would mean the world to her.”

Beau sighed, staring out the small window at the dark expanse. “I’ve been thinking about it. Just... don’t want to get in her way. She’s got her own life now.”

“Beau,” Carla said firmly. “You’re her dad. Showing up isn’t getting in her way; it’s being there for her. Big difference.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ll figure it out.”

The silence that followed was easy, punctuated by the occasional crackle of the woodstove. Carla leaned back, studying him. “So,” she began, drawing the word out, “what about you? Any big news?”

Beau hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Well... there is someone.”

Carla’s brows shot up. “Someone? Do tell.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” he said, his tone softening. “She’s incredible. Smart, funny, beautiful. And she’s got a daughter, Eliza. Sweet kid. Sweet kid.” He smiled, aware he repeated himself. “She’s like sunshine, Carla.”

Carla tilted her head, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Beau Arlen, you’re smitten.”

He chuckled, setting his beer down. “Yeah, maybe I am.” He knew better. He was absolutely in love, even though they hadn’t said it. “They’ve got me wrapped around their little fingers, and I don’t even mind.”

“How serious is it?” Carla asked, leaning forward slightly.

Beau hesitated, then looked her straight in the eyes. “Serious enough that I’ve been thinkin’ about askin’ her to marry me.”

Carla blinked, her surprise giving way to delight. “Are you kidding me? That’s amazing, Beau!”

“Yeah, well...” He rubbed the back of his neck again, a sheepish grin on his face. “It’s just... what if it’s too soon? What if she’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?”

Carla got up, crossing the small space to stand in front of him. “Beau, listen to me. You’ve been through a lot, but you’re not the kind of man who lets fear stop him. And from the way you talk about her with that look on your face, I’d bet my last dollar she feels the same way about you.”

“You really think so?” he asked, his voice quieter now. God, he wanted to believe it. He’d spent so much time with Y/N, almost nightly now, and his life was so much the better for it. Their lives were merging in an incredible way and it felt so immensely peaceful for him.

“I do,” she said, resting a hand on his arm. “Look, second chances don’t come around often. If you’ve found something this good, don’t let it slip away. Go for it, Beau. You deserve to be happy.”

He nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. “Thanks, Carla. Means a lot, comin’ from you.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I just want you to be happy. And I think you’ve found someone who can do that.”

The wind picked up outside, rattling the trailer slightly. Beau glanced out the window, the stars bright against the deep black of the Montana sky. For the first time in a long time, he felt a quiet certainty settling in his chest.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice steady. “It’s time I stop overthinkin’ it.” God, he was going to ask Y/N to marry him. He even had a ring in mind, one he hoped she’d love.

“Good,” Carla said, her smile widening. “Now, go get the girl.”

Beau chuckled, reaching for his beer again. As they sat together in the small, cozy space, the future felt a little clearer, the path ahead illuminated by more than just the stars.

The next night:

The hum of the lights overhead mixed with the occasional ring of the phone and the chatter of deputies as Beau sat at his desk, his boots propped up on the corner. His cellphone rested in his hand, the screen glowing faintly as he typed out a message.

Hey, Y/N. Was thinking about you. Any chance you’d want to grab dinner this week? Just us.

He stared at the message, debating whether to hit send. It wasn’t that he doubted she’d say yes—things had been going well between them, better than he’d dared to hope. But something about putting himself out there, asking for something so normal, felt... big. Because it wasn’t going to be just a dinner date—it was going to be so much more.

Before he could overthink it further, he tapped send. A faint buzz confirmed the message was delivered.

“Sheriff,” Deputy Morales called, poking his head into the office. “Anything you need before I head out?”

Beau shook his head. “Nope. Go home, Morales. Get some rest.”

The deputy nodded and disappeared down the hall, leaving Beau alone. He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him, and glanced at his phone again, hoping for a quick reply from Y/N. Instead, the device buzzed with an incoming call from dispatch.

“This is Sheriff Arlen,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting to business.

“Sheriff, we’ve got a report of a domestic disturbance at 341 Maple Road,” the dispatcher said. “Caller says there’s a gun involved. Sounds volatile.”

Beau sat up, his boots hitting the floor with a thud. “Any injuries reported?”

“Not yet, but the line went dead before we could get more details.”

“Understood. Send backup. I’m on my way,” Beau said, already grabbing his jacket and hat.

The weight of the situation settled over him as he strode out of the office. Domestic calls were always unpredictable, and the mention of a firearm added a layer of urgency. He climbed into his truck, the engine roaring to life as he flipped on the lights and siren.

As he sped toward Maple Road, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat. He glanced at it briefly, catching Y/N’s name on the screen.

Dinner sounds great. How about Friday?

A smile flickered across his face, brief but warm, before he forced his focus back on the road. “Friday it is,” he murmured to himself, gripping the wheel tighter.

By the time he arrived at the house, two patrol cars were already parked outside, their lights casting a red and blue glow over the quiet street. Beau stepped out of his truck, his hand instinctively resting on the butt of his holstered gun as he approached the scene.

Deputy Poppernak was standing near the porch, his face tense. “Sheriff. The caller’s inside. Husband’s armed, yelling at the wife. Neighbors said they heard shouting and what sounded like a gunshot earlier.”

Beau nodded, his jaw tightening. “Where’s the wife?”

“Inside with him. She hasn’t come out.”

Beau glanced at the house, the front window lit but curtains drawn. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “All right, let’s keep this calm. No sudden moves. You and Jenkins stay here and cover the exits. I’ll try to talk to him.”

Poppernak hesitated. “You sure, Sheriff? He’s got a gun—”

“I’m sure,” Beau said firmly. “If we escalate, someone’s goin’ to get hurt.”

With that, he approached the door, his steps measured. He knocked firmly, his voice steady but commanding. “My name is Beau Arlen. I’m the sheriff of Big Sky. I’m here to talk.”

There was silence, followed by a muffled shout from inside. “Go away!”

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Beau called back. “I just want to make sure everyone’s all right.”

The seconds stretched, each one taut with tension, before the door creaked open just a crack. A man’s face appeared, angry and lined with frustration. “I said, go away.”

“Look, I get it. Things can get heated. But I need to make sure no one’s hurt in there. Can I come in and talk?”

The man hesitated, his grip tightening on something just out of sight. Beau’s gaze didn’t waver, his tone calm but firm. “You don’t want this to get worse, do you? Let’s just talk. That’s all.”

The man seemed to consider it, his eyes darting nervously toward the living room. Beau caught a glimpse of the woman inside, her face pale and tear-streaked. She had a split lip and it looked like she had a black eye. Beau fought to keep his temper in place.

“Alright,” the man muttered finally, opening the door wider. “But no funny business.”

Beau stepped inside slowly, his hands visible. “No funny business. Just a conversation.”

As the door closed behind him, the weight of the situation deepened. But Beau had been here before—walking into chaos and trying to bring calm. He just hoped this time, his words would be enough.

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store buzzed faintly, casting a clinical glow over the neatly stocked shelves. Y/N pushed her cart slowly, her mind half-focused on her task and half on Eliza, who had been unusually fussy all day. She hated seeing her little girl under the weather, and the image of her curled up in the shopping cart clutching her rabbit plushy tugged at her heart. For once, the little wolf-child was uncharacteristically quiet and subdue.

She stopped in the pharmacy section, scanning the shelves for something to help. Children’s fever reducer, cough syrup, throat lozenges—her eyes darted over the options. Grabbing a small bottle of grape-flavored medicine, she placed it in the cart. It would do for now.

As she turned to leave the aisle, something caught her eye. A small display of pregnancy tests. She paused, her steps faltering. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen them, but this time, something nagged at her—a faint worry that she’d been ignoring.

Her breath hitched as realization struck. Her period was late. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before, but now, standing in front of the shelves, she couldn’t shake the sudden clarity. It wasn’t just a couple of days. It was more than several weeks.

Y/N felt her pulse quicken as her gaze settled on the colorful boxes. The idea seemed impossible, even absurd. Her life had just started to feel steady, normal—whatever that meant anymore. But as much as she wanted to dismiss the thought, the faint possibility hung in the air like a weight she couldn’t ignore.

She glanced around, almost embarrassed, though no one else was paying attention. With a shaky hand, she grabbed one of the tests and dropped it into the seat of her cart, quickly covering it with a loaf of bread and a bag of apples. Her cheeks burned, but the panic she felt was sharper than the embarrassment.

“Okay,” she muttered under her breath, trying to calm herself. “It’s probably nothing. Yeah. Just… a weird reaction to the birth control. Oh God,” she whispered some more to herself. “We were using birth control. How could this happen?”

But the knot in her stomach said otherwise. As she wheeled her cart toward the checkout, her thoughts raced. If the test confirmed what she suspected, everything would change. Her life. Eliza’s. And Beau’s.

Beau. The thought of him sent a fresh wave of emotions crashing over her. She’d been falling for him, harder and faster than she’d expected. He’d been nothing but kind and steady, a man who cared for her and Eliza like they were his own. But would he be ready for this? For another child? Especially when he had a child college-bound? He was probably done with kids… what if…

She tried to shake the thoughts as she paid for her groceries, offering the cashier a distracted smile. The drive home was a blur, her mind a storm of questions and fears. As she pulled into the driveway and glanced toward the backseat, she saw Eliza asleep in the car seat. That tiny moment of sweetness eased the tension in Y/N’s chest, even if just for a second.

Once the groceries were put away, Eliza settled in her crib for a nap, she found herself in the bathroom, the small box in her hands. Her heart pounded as she stared at it, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

“Just do it,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath. Whatever happened, she’d face it. For Eliza. For herself. And maybe, just maybe, for Beau.

The house was stifling, the air thick with tension. Beau stood in the small, cluttered living room, his hands raised slightly, palms out in a gesture of calm. Across from him, the man—tall, wiry, and shaking with anger—clutched a handgun. His knuckles were white, his breathing ragged.

“All right, buddy,” Beau said, his voice steady and low. “Let’s take a step back. Nobody here wants this to end badly.”

The man’s gaze darted between Beau and the woman sitting on the couch, her face streaked with tears. She looked terrified but hadn’t moved, as if afraid any sudden action might set him off.

“She doesn’t listen!” the man shouted, his grip on the gun tightening. “She doesn’t respect me!”

“I hear you,” Beau said, nodding slowly. “Sounds like you’re feelin’ ignored, maybe disrespected. That’s a tough place to be. But this?” He motioned subtly toward the gun. “This ain’t gonna fix it.”

The man’s lip curled, but his posture softened slightly, his shoulders sagging as doubt began to creep into his expression. Beau pressed on, his tone calm but insistent.

“You’ve got a choice here,” he said. “You can put the gun down, and we can talk this through. Find a way to make things better. Or…” He paused, letting the alternative hang heavy in the air. “Or things get worse, for everyone.”

The man blinked, his jaw working as if he were chewing over Beau’s words. Beau could see the cracks forming, the anger beginning to crumble under the weight of guilt and exhaustion.

“Come on,” Beau urged gently. “Let’s make this right.”

For a moment, it seemed like the man might listen. His grip on the gun loosened, and his arm lowered slightly. Beau took a cautious step forward, his hands still raised. “That’s it. You’re doin’ the right thing.”

Then, outside, the faint crunch of boots on gravel broke the fragile quiet. Through the corner of his eye, Beau caught the movement of deputies circling the house, their shapes silhouetted against the windows.

The man’s head snapped up, his face twisting in fury. “You lied to me!” he bellowed, raising the gun again. “You brought them here!”

“No, no!” Beau said quickly, his hands raised higher. “They’re just here to make sure everyone’s safe. This is still just you and me, all right? Look at me. Focus on me.”

But the man wasn’t listening anymore. His breathing turned erratic, and his finger twitched on the trigger. Beau moved without thinking, lunging forward to grab the weapon. They collided, the gun clattering against the floor as the two men grappled.

“Let it go!” Beau growled, his voice straining as he fought to wrest control of the weapon.

The man twisted violently, his elbow catching Beau in the ribs. They stumbled into the coffee table, sending a lamp crashing to the ground. Beau pinned the man’s wrist, but the fight was chaotic, and the gun remained too close.

“Deputies, hold your position!” Beau yelled, his voice breaking through the scuffle.

The struggle came to a head in a split second of chaos. The man’s hand wrenched free, and as Beau reached for the gun again, a deafening bang shattered the air.

Beau staggered back, his hand instinctively flying to his stomach. The pain was sharp and immediate, stealing the breath from his lungs. He looked down, his hand coming away slick with blood. The room swayed around him as the gun fell to the floor and the man froze, his face pale with shock.

“Sheriff!” Poppernak’s voice boomed from outside as the door burst open, deputies swarming in.

Beau sank to his knees, the edges of his vision blurring. The deputies subdued the man as Poppernak rushed to his side, pressing a hand against the wound to stem the bleeding.

“Stay with me, Sheriff,” Poppernak said, his voice shaking. “Ambulance is on the way.”

Beau tried to respond, but his head felt heavy, his thoughts slipping away like sand through his fingers. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was the faint glow of his phone on the floor, Y/N’s message still lighting the screen.

The bathroom was silent except for the faint drip of the faucet. Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub, her hands gripping the counter where the small plastic test lay face down. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach twisting into knots.

“Just a few more minutes,” she whispered to herself, though the seconds felt endless. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind racing with every possible outcome. She hadn’t even let herself think it could be real—not until now.

When the timer on her phone buzzed, she jumped, the sharp sound cutting through the tense quiet. Taking a shaky breath, she reached for the test. Her hand trembled as she flipped it over.

Two lines.

Y/N stared at it, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes.

Positive.

She was pregnant.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to contain the sob that threatened to escape. Her mind reeled. She wasn’t ready for this—not now, not when her relationship with Beau was still so new. Only a few months. What would he think? What would he say? Would he even want this?

She hugged her knees to her chest, tears spilling over as the panic rose. Eliza was already a handful; how could she manage another baby? And Beau—he’d been amazing, but would this scare him away? Her chest tightened at the thought of losing him.

As she sat there, overwhelmed and struggling to breathe, her phone buzzed on the counter. At first, she ignored it, too caught up in her spiral. But it buzzed again, and something about the persistent vibration made her reach for it.

Unknown number. She almost didn’t answer it. But something inside her told her to answer.

Frowning, she swiped to answer. “Hello?” she managed, her voice shaky.

“Y/N, my name is Jenny Hoyt. I’m one of the deputies of Big Sky,” Jenny’s voice came through, tense and clipped. “It’s Beau.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. “What happened?” she whispered, fear clawing at her throat.

“He’s been shot,” Jenny said, her words heavy. “Domestic call turned bad. He’s at the hospital now. It’s serious.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the world tilting around her. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is he… is he okay?”

“They’ve got him in surgery,” Jenny said, her voice softening. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“I—I’ll be there,” Y/N stammered, already standing. She wiped at her face, trying to pull herself together as her thoughts scrambled. “Which hospital?”

“Big Sky General,” Jenny said. “Take your time, but… you should come soon.”

Y/N nodded, even though Jenny couldn’t see her. “Thank you,” she whispered before hanging up.

Her legs felt like jelly as she grabbed her daughter, blatantly disturbing the little girl’s sleep, her keys, the diaper bag, and her purse, her mind a whirlwind of fear and worry. She made an urgent phone call to her parents’ in Billings, begging her mother for help. It’d be several hours, but better several hours than keeping a fussy, potentially sickly child in the hospital for God knows who how long.

Thankfully, her mother was more than understanding and would be there as soon as she could. Y/N stifled a sob as she drove the way to Big Sky General.

The pregnancy test lay forgotten on the counter, its stark lines a reminder of the new life growing inside her—a life she hadn’t even begun to process.

As she drove to the hospital, her hands gripping the wheel tightly, one thought kept repeating in her mind: Beau had to be okay. For Eliza, for her. For the future she hadn’t dared to dream of until now.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Come check out my master Tag List and sign up! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 7

AN: The long awaited part 7. Before anyone fears, no this isn't the end of the series don't you worry. I don't have many ideas for the next few parts, but I'm sure I'll think of something or one of you can help!

Also how do we feel about giving Reader a tail? /gen I have a few ideas I've been toying with with reader having a tail, but I don't want to cross the line between too self indulgent and reflecting of my character, rather than trying to be as inclusive as possible.

-> Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2

Warnings: Depictions of past trauma/ injury, past depictions of being turned into a Twisted/ seeing a loved one as a twisted/ recovering from being a Twisted, mentions of vomit, past depictions of losing a lost one, talk of scars (In a positive light, but just in case!)

☁ The first few nights were hard. So, so incredibly hard. Not by any fault of your own, oh absolutely not, but that didn't make the nights any less taxing or offer them anymore rest.

☁ There were a few times you offered tearfully to sleep in your old room so they could hopefully get some rest, each one shot down with a stern No'. The mere thought of having you out of their line of sight was more than their nerves could take, especially somewhere where they couldn't reach immediately? Hard Pass.

☁ The first night was by far the worst. Cosmo can't say he really remembers recovering from being a twisted, but there was one thing that stuck out for him during the entire process. And that was you. You were there the entire time, gently pressing cool cloths to his forehead, helping him sip water, even keeping saltine crackers on hand in case his temporarily fickle stomach decided that food was somewhat acceptable.

☁ You were the same with Astro and Sprout as well, ensuring the recovery, as awful as it was, was still as seamless as you could make it. If there was one thing he did remember about healing from being a twisted, is that he would never wish it upon another being. Much less you.

☁ The first night you're returned, you're rushed to med-bay as a flurry of commotion happens. Those left behind are eager to see if you've been returned, especially poor Toodles who took your turning hard. She's holding Blu when they rush past, tears in her large eyes, but Rodger is quick to turn her away.

☁ Sprout is already barking orders with Ginger meeting them halfway, first aid kit in hand. They had given you minimal attention in the ride up, but they didn't have the time, space or resources necessary to give you proper medical attention.

☁ It's a flurry of action that follows right after. Astro stays up by your head, wiping the ichor that stained your mouth and clumped your fur. His cheeks are shiny as he does it, shaking his head every now and then before continuing his actions.

☁ Cosmo barely remembers all he did that night, there was so much that needed done. That wound you had received from-...From when you turned into a twisted had never closed, the excess ichor from being a twisted keeping you alive. It was an awful, horrid thought, but not one they could ignore as Cosmo hurriedly worked alongside his cousin to close it. Sprout busied himself with working on the claw marks across your face you had made in your confused state. Every bit he seemed to do made his grimace deepen. He wasn't sure what the other was seeing, but currently wasn't certain he wanted to know during this moment.

☁ Your teeth still remained sharp as you groaned in pain throughout the process, hands reaching back up to swat at the insistent burden yanking on your wounds, only for them to be caught by Shelly, who had followed to offer her help.

☁ She had felt awful about the entire situation, regardless if you would've done it either way. Vee as well, though she stayed further back to avoid getting in the way. Shelly's tougher skin made her more resistant to your claws and slashes, so she was a welcome helper, even if it made the working space a bit more cramped.

☁ Seeing you hurt like that was an awful feeling. Cosmo remembers feeling the bile burn at the back of his throat that night, increasing in every little noise or whimper of pain you made. Even when the worst was handled, he had to step back for a moment, hiding in Astro's chest as Sprout continued wiping away what was left. The same grimace was on his features, one much more intense than what was usually there when he was in doctor mode.

☁ He didn't speak more on it until far after Shelly had taken her leave with a tearful well wishes. Even then, the berry had only dragged a chair closer, hiding his face in his hands. Neither Astro nor himself knew where to go from there, and that just made them feel all the more worse as you seemed to fall into a fitful unconsciousness.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure if it counted as sleep, honestly, not with how you still shook.

☁ "They have so many scars." Sprout finally spoke up, voice wavering before it cracked as he smoothed back his leaves, letting them fall back into place. "They hide them under their fur. How did-..." Sprout swallowed tightly at this before looking up at them with teary eyes. "How did we miss that?"

☁ Neither waited for a moment further before rounding around the medical bed to wrap their arms around the berry. He was tricky when it came to emotions, especially since this entire thing began, flickering between anger and denial like a coin, to see him break down like that was rare.

☁ "It's easy to miss." Cosmo nearly choked on the words, tears welling in his eyes as he flickered between watching your chest rise and fall to the floor. There was a crack in one of the tiles. You'd want that fixed, so no one tripped. He'd make not of it later. "Their fur covers it-"

☁ "Is that really an excuse?" Sprout cuts back in, his own eyes watching you in the same clinical way Cosmo found himself doing it. "For the others maybe. But us?"

☁ Cosmo couldn't find any rebuttal, swallowing tightly. He knows he himself has spent countless hours with his fingers running along your fur, playing with the stands and drawing shapes against the grain of it. He just never really focused on the skin beneath because he truthfully didn't think too. Looking back, maybe that was on him. He should've done better, done something more-

☁ "I don't think anyone's at fault." Astro's comment cut through the sudden silence. He had been dreadfully silent since getting back from the run so to hear him sound so exhausted was...jarring. He always had a sleepy, tired lilt to his voice, but to hear it like that made Cosmo's tail curl tighter against his back.

☁ Silence fell again before Astro was continuing. "I think, to a degree, it would be...more questionable if they didn't have any. They've been doing this far longer than you, me or even Cosmo's been in the picture. We can't stop them, but we can support them however possible as we have been." Astro swallows for a moment, using a star shard to bring a box of tissues closer. He takes one, wiping under his eye before setting it to the side. "They will always be like this. They'll be our self-sacrificing idiot who doesn't know when to stop, but that's why we fell in love with them. We can't change them and I hope none of us would try. Their scars are part of who they are. We-...I love every part of them, even the parts they may not love as much. Those parts we just have to love a little extra."

☁ The words stand, nearly tangible in the air for a long while. He's right. There are very few times when Astro isn't, but it's a jarring notion to understand what you truly went through. Even Cosmo himself hadn't known how long you and Poppy and Boxten had been doing it since he wasn't even the first returned. No, by the time he had been recovered, Finn, Shrimpo and Rodger had been well acquainted parts of the group and you had become comfortable in your role as a distractor.

☁ He wonders just how much of the burden you've carried silently with you. He's terrified of the answer you'd give if he asked.

☁ "I do...I do love them." Sprout choked, as if that was ever being brought into question. "I just- What if they hurt? What if every time we ask them to distract they're just a constant reminder of every past failure to them? They've done so much for all of us. Who are we to ask anything more?"

☁ "Like Astro said, it's who they are. I think if they truly didn't want to distract, they wouldn't. And I hope they would feel safe enough to come to us if the scars were causing them pain." The first tear falls down Cosmo's cheek, which is quickly wiped with a star shard covered in a tissue. "I mean, for heaven's sake, they turned into a twisted to save Vee on a run to save Shelly. If that's not the most selfless thing I've seen, I don't know what is."

☁ "Truthfully, I think I rather would've dealt with Vee's Twisted then theirs." Astro deadpans only to immediately flush a navy blue as Sprout cackles, Cosmo hiding his own laughs behind a hand. Astro practically swallows his tongue as he's quick to try and amend it with, "Not that I would wish that on any of us!"

☁ Sprout shakes his head as he finally leans back, his own cheeks shiny- which the star shard tries to wipe at only to get swatted at, making Astro pout. Both of Sprout's arms reach around to hook around both Cosmo and Astro as he takes a final deep breath. "We'll talk with them. Maybe now they'll see reason. Because yeah. I'm not dealing with that again."

☁ "They were so scary!" Cosmo whines, leaning on Sprout's shoulder. "But also-...Hear me out-"

☁ "Stoooop." Sprout groans, tipping his head back as Astro nods solemnly. "I'm hearing."

☁ Cosmo laughs at this before you're suddenly jumping up, cheeks puffed and they already know what that entails. Cosmo grabs the nearest trash can while Astro gently pulls back anything that could get in the way while Sprout makes for the nearest medication cabinet.

☁ Cosmo holds the trash can for you as you purge the excess ichor in your body, watching your heaves with a heartbroken glance while Astro rubs your back, even if he himself looks nauseous at the sight and sounds. He's quick to switch with Sprout when he returns, measuring out the stomach medication the berry had grabbed. It had aided the rest of them when it came to rejecting the ichor and they hoped it would with you too.

☁ In the very least, as awful as it was, it was a good sight to see as it meant you were recovering in the very least. Even if your heaves sounded painful and tears tracked down your cheeks. It would a pattern that would continue throughout the night unfortunately, which they would need to stay up to assist you with, but it was a chore they were more than happy to do. You had been the one to sit with each of them throughout the night, making sure they had all the comfort you could offer at the time.

☁ So even as the minutes ticked like hours, they knew it was all worth it. Every trip to empty the trash cash, every startled awakening at the sound of your gags, every wince as you pleaded for mercy. Anything to get you back.

☁ The following days are better. The next morning, right before it could be qualified as noon, you were cognizant enough to recognize where you were, eyes unfocused as you swayed, trying to sit up only for that to be one of the worst ideas you've ever had.

☁ The boyfriend on duty is quick to come to your side, with a hand on your back as soft whispers buzzed in your ear. You curled in on yourself, eyes scrunching shut before a deep breath had you finally stabilizing enough you could blink your eyes. Sprout was right there, offering you a gentle smile as he tried to figure out what exactly you were seeing.

☁ You practically threw yourself at him, pulling him close as tears burned your eyes. You cried into his scarf as his hands slowly curled back around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest as his own shoulders shook. "Oh. bud, I've missed you."

☁ "I'm sorry." You blab. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You cry, squeezing him tighter when it almost seems like he's going to pull away. You don't remember much about your time as a twisted except for spotting Sprout and smelling the ichor of a non-twisted toon being spilt. You prayed it wasn't you to cause that wound, that there was no wound at all, but subtly looking at his arm quickly dashes that hope.

☁ "No, no, bud you did nothing wrong." This time you allow him to pull away, only for his hands to cup your cheeks. "You're just as perfect as you always are." His green eyes shine with unshed tears, which quickly rectify that by trailing down his freckled cheeks. You sob at the sight, your own hands- with nails longer than you normally keep them- cupping his cheeks.

☁ Sprout crashed his lips against yours in a show of desperation, tears making the kiss taste salty as your shoulders fall in relief. IF he was okay, the others had to be okay, right? They had to be? You didn't hurt them too, did you? You prayed not.

☁ Pulling away, you angled his chin every which way, scanning his face as he gave you a few watery chuckles. "You're okay? All leaves, limbs and seeds?"

☁ Sprout caught your hands, pulling them down so he could look at you, nothing but sweet, adoring love in his eyes. "Leaves, limbs and seeds all attached." He coos, laying his forehead on yours as his shoulders heave with a long heavy sigh. "Oh, bud. You're okay."

☁ "You're not." You frown, feeling the tears threaten to burst out all over again. "I'm-"

☁ "It wasn't you." Sprout interrupts, making you blink. "No, a twisted flutter got me, but you? Even a twisted, you've proven you'll still protect us." His smile is sad, but relieved as you feel your stomach finally settle.

☁ You get a few moments more before the door is being slammed open, but not by another toon. No, it must've been ajar, because who else is waiting there but Blu herself, looking as grumpy as the day she accidentally fell into the snow in Bobette's shop, mewing in long, interrupted yowls as she trotted to the medical bed, jumping up and immediately crawling all over you.

☁ Sprout tried to grab her, but you waved him off, scooping up the baby and letting her place her paw on your cheek. You cooed at her, nuzzling your nose against her cold, wet one. She mewled once more before it delved into a purr, making you snicker. "I know, tell me all about how unfair your dads are."

☁ "Oi!" Sprout immediately called, looking only mildly offended before footsteps had you both looking over at the doorway once more. Cosmo was there, already panting as he leaned his head against the doorway. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she was sleeping and then suddenly just took off and-" He looked up at that point, only for his mouth to gape open. He stilled for a second as Astro popped his head in, looking at the pastry. "Did you find-"

☁ He too was left slack-jawed before Cosmo was moving and he was following, both wrapping you in tight hugs and a flurry of kisses. It was comforting and perfect, and enough to make you forget about how awful your stomach felt.

☁ They were quick to fill you in on everything that had happened in your absence and, honestly? Hearing Astro talk about having his best friend back made your heart thrum and how happy he seemed, moreso now that he had everyone in his little family back at long last.

☁ While your side still hurt and your muscles still sung from the strain put on them. being wrapped between them felt safe. Safer than you've felt since the moment of pure terror that wracked your entire nervous system the second you knew only one of you would make it to the elevator.

☁ Still, you knew there was something on the horizon. A discussion that needed to be had and it made whatever was left in your gut churn and rot further than it already had.

☁ It didn't come until later that night when you were finally back in your room, eating something soft and easy to digest (My personal fav is oatmeal but I know now everyone can eat that so y'all get to choose <3), chatting with Cosmo when a knock at the door made you look up.

☁ Astro had popped his head in, scanning for your form before immediately relaxing when he spotted you. "Are you okay with a few visitors? Absolutely feel free to say no."

☁ You honestly hadn't expected anyone to visit you, really. Goob and Scraps had both had their own tearful reunions with you, Goob especially, and Poppy and Boxten had visited as well. You weren't overly close with anyone else, but while confused, you nodded.

☁ Astro scanned you for a second, as if to see if you were lying, but when he found nothing he stepped more fully inside. Sprout followed, immediately wounding to your side and pressing a peck to your lips. You smiled at him before looking back over, eyes widening at the two toons standing there.

☁ Shelly looked nervous, but waved even as her smile wavered, her tail giving a small, short little wag. Vee looked miserable if you were honest. You had never seen the main so...upset, making you frown. Was she upset with you? You know you probably shouldn't have pushed her, but you had no other option at the time!

☁ Astro took his own spot beside, across from where Sprout had moved to sit beside Cosmo.

☁ "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Shelly begins, tapping her fingers together before meeting your eye. "I wanted to thank you personally. And apologize. It was me you were retrieving and-"

☁ "And it wouldn't have happened if I had just picked up the pace." Vee cuts in. She makes it a point not to look at you, making you frown, fingers curling around your blanket. Vee let out a sigh, antennae giving a little spark as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm...So, so so-"

☁ "You have nothing to apologize for." You hold up a hand, scrunching your features. "I made my choice. You had nothing to do with what i decided. I promise. i never would've done something if it wasn't something I was sure about doing. There was never a moment I was upset with you, either of you." You're quick to reassure, sending them both a smile. Shelly returns it quickly, but Vee only gives you a glance and you frown.

☁ That was Sprout's best friend. You knew you didn't have to get along with everyone, but you wanted to get along with these two especially.

☁ Shelly seemed relieved at least, which made Astro relax at least a bit, but that wasn't enough for you. "I promise, Vee. If anything I owe you all an apology." You wilted a bit, even if Vee finally looked at you. "My twisted is...not the best, even I could admit that and I should've planned with the twisteds better rather than risk putting you guys in that situation. So for that, I apologize." You continue, continuing even if Vee looks like she's going to cut in. "It's happened, and it's fixed already. We can just blame whoever started the Ichor operation rather than try to keep playing this 'who can blame themself the most' game."

☁ Vee gapes and you smile at her softly, opening your arms. "Hug it out with me? Therefore all is forgiven and we can't blame ourselves anymore." The television looks at you, then at Shelly, then Sprout before her shoulders fall and she's slumping forward. You wrap your arms around her, feeling the chill of her metal plates. Looking over, you make eye contact with Shelly, who smiles sadly at the action. You open one of your arms and the fossil is immediately burrowing into the hug as well with her tail whapping about.

☁ When you separate, they take their leave not soon after, seemingly much lighter than when they came in. But then you're left with the other three. Astro's who's already sitting beside you, but the other two crawl onto the bed so you're all sitting in a circle of types.

☁ Your eyes dart from one to the next to the next before falling to where your knuckles are white around the blanket, having returned to clutching the fabric. You have to actively uncurl your fingers.

☁ You know there's probably tons to discuss, but you don't even know where to start.

☁ So Sprout does. He's never one to beat around the bush, especially looking back to before you all were together, and it's something you greatly admire about the berry.

☁ "We saw the scars." Is all he says, his own eyes remaining downcast as he plays with his scarf. You swallow, debating your options before breathing out, letting down the walls you normally kept up around everyone else.

☁ "Most of them are front the beginning." You admit. "I wasn't a good distractor then. I wasn't even really okay. I did it when we absolutely needed one. We had none of the trinkets we do now and didn't even think about them at the time. So I was an extractor and Cosmo knows that me extracting is like teaching a fish to fly." You spill immediately, thinking back to the lacerations that once marred your skin. "I'm sorry if they bothered you. I tried to keep them as covered up as possible. in case they...upset you all"

☁ "It's not the fact that their there, starlight. Well, I mean, that's kind of part of it, but...Why didn't you tell us?" Astro prods, laying a hand on you knee as another gentle rubs your shoulder. You bristle at the question, rolling your shoulders for a second before responding.

☁ "They aren't number one on my list of discussion topics. I'd rather forget about them personally." Simple as that.

☁ There's silence for a second before Cosmo is raising his hand, pointing to a white line that circles around his forearm. "This is from my time as a twisted. You'd remember best, but my hand was all sorts of messed up, right?"

☁ You nod at this and he points to his eye, with a matching line circling around it, so faint if he wasn't pulling attention to it, most wouldn't notice. "Half my face too, right?"

☁ You nod once more and he mimics the action. "Are you ashamed of my scars?"

☁ "No!" You're quick to bark, immediately ready to quell any worries he has, but Cosmo isn't done, pointing to Sprout- who blinks at the finger like it personally offended him. "What about Sprout? He has his own scars. You ashamed of those?"

☁ "No, Cosmo that's not-"

☁ "Then what about Astro? He's got his fair share too." The pastry points to one of the hands on your knees, which indeed had it's own smattering of scars from his time as a twisted.

☁ "No." You stare him down, gaze hard as he meets your own just as challenging. "Then why does that change for you?" You don't have an immediate answer, and Cosmo pounces on that. "What makes your scars different from ours? Why would we ever be ashamed of your scars, of your journey, when you would never dream of even thinking about that of ours?"

☁ You gape at him, trying to find some sort of defense, but you can't. He seems satisfied at that, but it's not for long as you're speaking once more.

☁ "Mine were self-inflicted." You avoid looking at them, even as your heart practically chokes you. "You never signed up to be a twisted. I willingly trained and worked to become a distractor. These come with the territory."

☁ There's silence for a second before Sprout is speaking once more. "Do they hurt?"

☁ You frown at the question, but shake your head. "No. They don't."

☁ Sprout exhales in relief at this before leaning back on his palms. "This isn't meant to make you feel any type of way about them, bud. They're yours and we understand better than most that scars can bring...complicated feelings. There's just...so many. We just want you to care a little more about yourself."

☁ "Seeing you in danger all the time is hard on his heart." Astro gently jokes, even if he gets a light kick in return for the jab. The celestial takes a breath before leaning on your shoulder, one of his hands reaching to hold your own. "We just want you safe, starlight, above all else. The bed's too big for three of us."

☁ You take a breath that quivered in your lungs before nodding slowly. You had expressed to Astro before how terrified you were of your own twisted and never wished to expose it to them, but did so anyway.

☁ You could only imagine the fear they were feeling the entire time, especially on the retrieval.

☁ "I'm sorry. Not for doing what I did, I don't regret and never will." You began, finally looking back up at them. "But I agree. I've been a bit careless. It's a distractor's job to keep the twisteds occupied, but not by being a dumbass. I don't want to give up distracting though." By the end you're practically pleading.

☁ "And we would never ask you too." Sprout gives you a soft smile. "Even if you stress me the fuck out, you enjoy it. Just...maybe keep the distance between you and the twisteds a bit bigger. And keep an escape route open whenever possible. And a bandage on hand. And a can of pop. And-"

☁ You laugh, wiping your tears as you shake your head. "I get it. I'm sorry I scared you all."

☁ "Just remind us to never piss you off." Cosmo shakes his head. "You're scary when angry. Although, watching you protect Sprout like that-"

☁ "We are not having this conversation again!" Sprout immediately shuts down, hitting the pastry in the face with a pillow, quickly getting a swift hit in retaliation. The two tussle for a second, making you give a wet laugh as Astro nuzzles into you. Your finger taps on the back of his hand, silently asking for an explanation.

☁ He hums in acknowledgement at the unasked question, moving to kiss your shoulder. "You're hot in all forms. Cosmo especially likes your protective side."

☁ This makes you bark out a laugh, calling the attention of the other two back to you.

☁ "What are you laughing at?" Sprout grinned, straddling Cosmo who was squirming under the hand on his forehead keeping him pinned down.

☁ "You're all such dorks." You snicker, grinning before holding your hands out to them. "Hugs?"

☁ You're only able to let out a yelp at Sprout turns instead pull you into his chest, the other two also wrapped in the absolute bear hug. It makes your heart thrum happily, especially when Blu manages to pop her head up in a crevice and mew her greetings happily.

☁ So even while the first few nights were hard, as you lay there, wrapped in the embrace of your boys and feeling their laughter once more, you know that tonight won't be nearly as so.

☁ And if absolutely nothing else, that was what made it all worth it.

AN: Guys, remember how I made that joke (It wasn't a joke) about hating that Rodger and taking it out on their Bobette? GUESS WHO'S NOW A MARKETABLE PLUSH >:) Huge huge huge shoutout to @belifbel

RAHH LOOK AT THEM

[lightseoul]

— BAKUGOU KATSUKI.

arranged from latest to oldest per category!

型 : ONE-SHOTS

casual casualties (18+) ˖⁺‧₊

what was meant to be an innocent trip down to the bridge becomes a national sensation when you get outed as #15 pro-hero dynamight’s soulmate on live tv. inconvenient, yes, very much so—but it’s not like you have to do something about it. but then the bakugou katsuki himself seeks you out, and you find yourself getting into a whole lot of trouble.

christmas tree ˖⁺‧₊

bakugou catches you assembling the agency's top floor's christmas tree. (post-chapter 431)

and if we do (this thing) (18+) ˖⁺‧₊

you come up with a novel proposition during dinner one night with your dominant brute of a boyfriend. he accepts, although something tells you he doesn’t fully know what he’s getting himself into.

revenge (keep us together) ˖⁺‧₊

you wake up in a hospital and see an unfortunate, familiar sight.

hold me close (hold me tight) ˖⁺‧₊

masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.

maybe? definitely ˖⁺‧₊

bakugou realizes he wants to marry you.

in the dark ˖⁺‧₊

you're struggling to pick out an outfit that works for a reunion with class 1a later in the evening. bakugou comes in to try to help you, but you end up having a difficult conversation. (cw. mentions of body image issues, major weight gain).

call me your favorite, call me the worst ˖⁺‧₊

bakugou visits your studio unit for the first time. let's just say he ends up seeing something he wasn't supposed to see. a short story based on my first-ever self ship art.

you're losing me ˖⁺‧₊

bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.

endearment ˖⁺‧₊

first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.

changes ˖⁺‧₊

you miss your ex, bakugou katsuki.

asymptōtos ˖⁺‧₊

you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

all too much (i'm sorry) ˖⁺‧₊

the last person you want to see is Bakugou Katsuki. the one person you need to see is Bakugou Katsuki.

型 : SERIES / MULTI-CHAPTERED

all out of luck ˖⁺‧₊

you had the biggest, fattest crush on bakugou katsuki in high school, which granted you weird looks and judgment from those who found out, because why, when you could fawn over prince-like todoroki or manly kirishima instead? fast forward to 10 years later, though, and now the joke’s on them, because #2 pro-hero dynamight just got dubbed the hottest bachelor of the year. but that doesn’t matter, because you’re over him now. you’ve been over him, ever since that butchered attempt at confessing where he dismissed you as a gen ed extra before you could even get the words out. so why, all of a sudden—and an entire decade later—do you have to work with him on a top-secret mission?

the wonderful mess that we made ˖⁺‧₊

you’re invited to the wedding of the ex who unceremoniously dumped you over the phone while you were on your way to meet your boss. that boss, who just happens to be #2 pro-hero dynamight, finds out and comes up with a diabolical proposition. madness��affectionate or derogatory, you don’t know—inevitably ensues.

tell me sober ˖⁺‧₊

sober — based on this tiktok

i wish you would

admit it: the trilogy ˖⁺‧₊

admit it — loving him from afar was enough. at least, it should’ve been enough. until it wasn’t. (or, in which you subtly take care of your ex, bakugou katsuki, who also happens to be the namesake of the agency you’re working at)

still do — bakugou katsuki finally confronts you. you have a difficult conversation

prove it — bakugou katsuki starts acting differently after your last conversation. you finally arrive at an agreement.

you and me? ˖⁺‧₊

you and me? really? — mina and kirishima invite you to a night out. they conveniently forget to tell you it was a double date.

you and me, both — mina and kirishima invite you to a night out. ‘it won’t be like last time!’ they said. you begrudgingly go.

型 : DRABBLES

threadbare pajamas

if this is it now

something blue

flying (cockroach)

casual future

2k milestone drabble event based on any of the given 30 prompts, i write a drabble/scenario!

emotional constipation

you're binging a show. sadly bakugou needs some attention

bakugou keeps on teasing you. you choose to bite back

happy 4th anniversary

flighty y/n gets confessed to

bakugou checks out your boobs. you tease him

trial by fire first-time boyfriend katsuki finds himself having to deal with a menstruating partner

*drabbles in response to asks are tagged #bkg

© lightseoul 2025. do not plagiarize, repost, or feed to ai any of my works.

[zombiecowboy65]

I know we've all been discussing about when and where JereJean get together in terms of captain-player dynamic

But tbh if I were Jeremy and about to start my last year (5th year for players, so he's about to be 23 iirc) I just could NOT imagine dating a 19yo. No matter how attractive, if it ends in TEEN for me that's a kid. Even 20 would be pushing it, even if they were in my same year

I'm 22 now and I see 18/19yos as kids lol

As a survivor of CSA, the way most of this fandom discusses a teenager makes my skin crawl 🙃 he's not a "hot piece of meat" and yes, a 3-4 years age gap does matter, when he's a teen, has been abused his whole life, has a warped view of what humans are like

I know Nora sees no issues with age gaps (Andrew was a minor, 17 hooking up with 22/23yo Roland according to Nora's tweet, and no one in the books ever comments on it), but it's just weird to me

Like 3 years ago Jean was 16 and joined the Ravens to be raped, tortured, brutalized, and on top of that he was also completely isolated from "normal" society throughout his childhood

His situation is even worse than Neil's, because Neil at least had someone fighting with him and for him before she was killed

Hell even Andrew had a more normal (albeit tragic) upbringing. Foster homes and abuse but he still knows how to function in society when he has to (he just refuses to most of the time)

Meanwhile Jean is extremely codependent and needs a designated partner to function

There's a difference between growing up abused (Neil, Andrew) and growing up in a CULT and abused (Jean, Kevin to an extent, although he was not property and incredibly privileged compared to Jean)

I'm not saying Jean is defenseless. He's a fighter. He WILL stand up for himself, I'm 100% sure of it. And won't just let others fight his fights.

But he also grew up completely removed from normal human interactions and still has to learn how to be his own person rather than just an "ex Raven" (and he still can't fully accept that)

(Kevin too; he became an alcoholic to cope)

His past of sexual abuse + young age make his situation even more delicate when it comes to romantic and/or sexual relationships

I wish the fandom would see that. This goes beyond the captain-player dynamic issue.

I would love nothing more but for Jeremy to remember that throughout the series (as he's already realized it) and put his attraction aside

I fully support JereJean in the future, when they've both graduated and Jean has gone pro (idk what Jeremy will do, I can't remember if Nora ever said). When Jean can breathe a little easier knowing that he's made it and the Moriyamas are getting his money. When he's learned to live and work alone. When he's learned that his friends love him unconditionally

But right now? He needs a break. Just let the guy live 😩

... or rather, learn to live

And that's what bothers me the most: Jean still needs to LEARN HOW TO LIVE. He's a complicated, traumatized, fierce character fighting tooth and nail to learn how to live a normal life, how to be a person rather than property, an asset, a Raven

But most of the fandom just sees him as part of a ship.

That's where all the OOC fanfiction comes from, people either brushing his trauma aside or hyper focusing on just one aspect of it, all in service of their ship (same as with Andreil)

Sometimes the stuff I see is sooo OOC the only thing it has in common with aftg is the character names

I agree with you completely!!!!

The age gaps in this series bother me quite a bit. The Andrew / Roland thing was seriously messed up even if Andrew was the one calling the shots. Kevin and Thea is another one. Renee and Jean is even worse now that we know his age (24 vs 19?!?!?!??? What on earth????). Jeremy is a little closer in age, but it is still the better part of three years ahead.

Now, I do want to say when I was in college I did date someone two years older, but he was in my grade. With Jeremy I understand Jean is technically only a grade below, and that he’s 2.75 years younger, but it does make a difference. Jeremy honestly has a better grip on Jean’s trauma and the situation than this fandom tbh.

I was honestly very surprised when Nora told us Jean was 19 ESPECIALLY because Jeremy has to be at least 22. And idk if ppl forget that he’s older on top of the dynamic they have going but adding being older to his captaincy AND to the fact that he’s been in normal society where Jean has not… he does have power where Jean doesn’t.

And I’m not saying Jean can’t be in a relationship, I think jean can function way better than most people give him credit for or he literally would not be able to go day to day, but I do think it’s important for him to grow a bit before he gets into it with Jeremy. (I am not saying it has to be post college per se, just that the guy needs to heal a bit first). A lot of this fandom puts TOO much pressure on Jeremy to show him how to function, and while I think Jeremy can help I definitely do not think he should be labeled with this caretaker/savior thing the fandom has going on.

ESPECIALLY with sex. And now I’m not an NSFW blog but I need to address it. I’ve seen takes where Jean cannot even talk about sex but he and Jeremy are deep into a sexual relationship. If Jean cannot talk about sex he should not be having it. That’s like sex 101. It also really weirds me out when they make Jeremy show him the ropes of sex or call the shots or have Jean ask him to call the shots, but that’s just my personal opinion. This man had 0 autonomy in that nest. I do not think he should or would be handing that autonomy to Jeremy the minute he gets some. (Also he’s currently NINETEEN. Why is Jeremy DOMMING HIM half the time??????????)

I also agree about the OOC fics. There are a select few that do not (and I’ve said this so many times so I’m sorry if you’re sick of me) turn Jean into a submissive little woman (woman as in society’s idea of what a woman should be, not an actual woman) and Jeremy into this big bad alpha male type that needs to direct Jean’s every move.

Not only are those takes OOC, but it’s super weird.

Idk, it all just rubs me the wrong way.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

MOST WANTED III (Mafia Boss!Toji x Spy!Self-Insert!Reader x Gangster!Sukuna 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

*IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK CONTAINS R*PE & NONCON SEXUAL ACTS. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND READ LIGHTLY.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Self-Insert!Reader x Sukuna Ryomen (Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You are spiraling six months after your "encounter" and failed mission with Sukuna. You've quit your job as a spy/hit-woman for your agency and you are trying to live a normal life despite the hauntings and hot dreams of two certain criminals. But when a chance reunion happens at a bar with Toji Fushiguro, you realize that you have a chance to make things right for yourself and finally get the fucking your body desperately needs.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Reader is Fem, Black & Plus-Sized; (Poorly Written lol) Action Sequence; Kidnapping; Threesome; Dubcon/R*pe; Bondage/Handcuffs; Blindfolding; Sensory Play; Knife Play; Facefuck; Cunnilingus w/ Vibrator; Edge Play; MDom!Toji & Sukuna x fsub!Reader; Mating Press; Doggystyle; Rough Sex; Reader Cums 3x; Facials; Creampies; No Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

READ PART I WITH MAFIA BOSS!TOJI HERE!

Read Part II WITH GANGSTER!SUKUNA HERE!

Writer’s Note: WE ARE HERE AT THE END!! Thank you all so much for reading this little series from the mind of @switchkitty143! I had so much fun writing this series & delving into the dark, kinky world of sex with Toji & Sukuna's evil asses lmaoo. I may continue this series or make a spinoff at some point, but my brain has too many fucking ideas already. Enjoy! -Jazz

*************

Another night spent in a martini glass. ‘What a Friday night,’ you somberly think as you sip on the last morsels of your dirty martini. 

When you flag the bartender down, he nods and is already getting you another glass. Despite the fact that he can probably tell that you are drunk as a skunk and don’t need another glass, you also tip like a motherfucker and you’ve been here many times before, getting drunk and being responsible by taking an Uber home instead of driving.

You have been frequenting your local bar way more often now in between your shifts at your new remote job as a data analyst. It is a good job, pays the bills, and allows you to continue to live your life as a nomad which you have become accustomed to for the past six months…not your choice, but it is necessary. 

As soon as the bartender lowers down your glass, you snatch it and take another sip of the medicine. You stare at the two empty glasses in front of you, your vision slightly blurry. Your head has become fuzzy, causing the sounds, sights, and tastes around you to be sharper than normal. You can feel eyes on you, rolling over the nylon stockings and burgundy top you paired with your leather jacket despite the bitter cold. 

You are drunk and you don’t care. That is why you came tonight, right? To get drunk, meet some hot guy, and forget the fact that you’re a total failure, a nomad, and you gave up a career that used to be your entire life? 

It has been six months since you quit your job as a hitwoman at C.O.D.E and since your encounter with Sukuna. The events of that night compiled onto the ones with that damn Toji Fushigiro until you had no choice but to quit. Having two of your targets fuck you out of your mind and get away doesn’t exactly look good on your performance report. So you took one for the team and “extracted” yourself from the situation yourself. 

It was hard. God, was it hard. You’ve been working at C.O.D.E. for a long while and it became your life. But more than walking away from a job you have come to love and cherish, you couldn’t stand to see the look in your boss’s eyes when you handed over your badge, gun, and resignation letter. You saw pity. You hated his pity. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, when you walked out of the agency’s doors, you could hear whispers and feel eyes staring at you. The entire floor was silent except for the few hushed voices trying to keep their conversations down. It didn’t work. The entire walk from work to the parking lot felt like you were doing the walk of shame.

You knew people found out about you fucking Toji and Sukuna. You knew people were talking about how slutty and stupid you were. You couldn’t stand the thought of continuing on with the rest of your days trying to ignore the whispers down the lane before your boss fired you (aka took you out back and put you out of your misery), so maybe quitting was the best decision. 

And although you keep that in your head, the past six months have been nothing short of a self-loathing hell, mindlessly wandering through each day wasting away in your apartment, shoveling down ice cream and wine, having meaningless sex, and attempting to not cry every morning and night. If you aren’t doing that, you’re working your remote job or going to the bar to get smashed only to repeat the same hellish, depressing cycle. 

There is no change and you don’t even know what “change” would look like to you. You feel like you have no future. No excitement. No purpose. No nothing. 

At least until you happen to turn your head slightly to the left to look down the bar. You don’t know what makes you look. Maybe the lights were getting brighter. Maybe you heard someone laugh a little too loud. Or maybe you just sensed a certain presence that caught your attention. You realize that it may be the third option when you see one of the men who have been haunting you for months sitting at the bar with a shot of expensive whiskey. 

It is impossible to not recognize him. Not with the way he fills out his leather jacket and jeans, how big he is, and the scar at the corner of his lip. You know those cool, gray eyes anywhere. They have haunted you for months, bringing both nightmares and hot dreams that leave you sweating in the night. He is completely unaware that you are staring or that you are even here, just a short walk away down at the bar. 

You know you should look away, but you can’t. Your attention is completely drawn to him like a month to a flame…or like a scorned woman to revenge. And that is what you are: a scorned woman. A woman who is angry and broken and in need of getting even. All of that rage comes rushing back the moment you lay eyes on Toji Fushiguro who has the nerve to be in here of all places. Not in prison. Still living his life while yours is crashing down. 

All you see is red as you watch Toji pick up his shot glass and drain the amber liquid in it, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his thick neck. You briefly think about snatching the glass from him and smashing it against his head. The violent image is quickly wiped away when he suddenly checks his watch and slips the bartender a crisp $50 bill before rising from his stool and abruptly leaving. 

You watch him still, your eyes glued to his moving back as he heads to the side exit leading out into the alleyway. Suddenly, you grab your martini and drain the rest of it before sliding the bartender $20. “Put it all on my tab,” you call to him before you rise from your seat. And then you’re following the criminal in his footsteps, moving as quickly as you can despite your unsteadiness and the risk of tripping in your boots. 

But you don’t care. You have a one-track mind now hellbent on seeing Toji face to face and…and what? What will you do? Will you hurt him? Will you confront him? Will you kiss him? Your mind is a muddled, jumbled, drunk mess, jumping from emotion to emotion. 

When you finally stumble outside, the cold air is like a shock to your system. You suddenly hear a click and turn to see Toji standing in the alley, his back to you. The orange glow of a lighter flicks, illuminating his clothes and his black hair, against the cold, dark shadows of the alleyway dumpsters. He holds the tiny, flickering flame of the lighter to his lips where a cigarette stick protrudes, lighting the butt until it turns red. 

You quietly watch him for a few seconds, shivering. From the cold, yes, but also from how nervous you feel. He truly is an intimidating man. He has made that very clear to you. But you aren’t afraid of him. You can’t be. ‘Fear is weakness,’ you think. So you clear your throat and open your mouth: “Hey,” you call, flinching at the sound of your voice. “Toji, right?” 

You see Toji’s shoulders tense at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turns, his big frame blocking off the other end of the alley from you. “Who’s askin’?” he demands, squinting at you in the dark. You step a little closer but still keep a good distance from him in case he tries something. “You don’t remember me.” You lift your head to show him all of your face. Every feature. Every line and curve. 

Toji continues to squint, his brows narrow in confusion. He takes a drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke out between his O-shaped lips, creating a cloud between you. “Should I?” he asks, a slight chuckle in his voice. Then, suddenly, a light of recognition appears over his face.

“Wait…V, right?” he questions. Your body buzzes at the sound of your name escaping his lips. 

Toji scoffs like he can’t believe it is really you. Like you’re old friends or something and not the woman he took advantage of and ruined the life of. “Shit…I do remember you. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been, sweetheart?” He gives you a toothy smile that angers you and gives you butterflies. 

“Horrible,” you growl. “And it’s all because of you.” All of the venom you have been feeling has laced your tongue and escaped your mouth, embedded in your voice.

Toji’s smile falters an inch, taken aback by your answer. “Uh, sorry?” he chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “I think you’ve got it wrong, sweetheart. I don’t even know what’s goin’ on.” 

He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke, squinting at you through the thick, gray rings. You scoff to yourself, adrenaline pumping through you. “Of course, you don’t because people like you only think about themselves and not about the harm you cause other people, you selfish dickhead.” You watch his smile slip and his eyes flash with irritation from the insult. 

“I lost my job because of you,” you hiss, taking a step toward him. “My career. My entire identity.”

Shockingly, he steps back. “Whoa, wait, wait, wait.” Toji puts his hands up as if calming a crazed wild animal, holding his cig between his thick fore and index fingers. “Look, m’sorry and all, but I didn’t do shit to make that happen. I didn’t sit behind your boss’s desk and fire you, did I?” 

His expression is sharp and narrow, his jaw set. You can’t care if you’re playing with fire here. You don’t care what happens. Your anger is too strong, pushing you forward with each thud of your boot. “I should kill you,” you hiss, venom lacing your voice. “I should take you out right now like I should’ve done that night I met you.” 

Your hand inches for your back pocket and Toji follows it, not moving but rigid as a board. When you pull your gun out and cock it–click–, he barely even flinches. He is used to this. Perhaps he was even anticipating it. Has he been expecting you at some point, you wonder? “V,” he says, his voice deep and on the hint of a warning. “You need to back up right now and take that gun away from me. You don’t want none of this.” 

He drops his cigarette and lets it die out on the payment. Unlike your anger, it snuffs out like a light and the smoke wisps through the air like ghosts. Though your hand shakes, you keep it aimed at his face. The same face that has followed you and taunted you for months now. “Yes, I do,” you growl. “I want it all, you evil motherfucker.” 

Crash! 

Something attracts your attention from behind just for a second. It sounds like a glass breaking inside the bar or someone falling outside. Either way, it is enough time for Toji to make his attack. As soon as you turn back around, he grabs your wrist and twists it. With a grunt of pain, you are forced to drop the gun. Hopelessly, you watch it clatter to the pavement before Toji kicks it away to somewhere behind a dumpster. 

With a growl of anger and determination, you use your knee to nail him right in the balls. His face twists in pain and his hold slips, allowing you to break free and nail him in the jaw with a right hook. His head flies back from the impact and your knuckles flare from them hitting solid bone. It is a sweet ache. You go to punch him again, but he stops you with one hand blocking your fist. 

With a grunt, he twirls you around and shoves you into a nearby wall, your front pressing up against the bricks while his front presses into your back. You grunt in desperation, trying to wriggle free, but he presses harder. “Y’know, I don’t hit girls,” he sighs, “but I do fight bitches.” 

Bitch? 

Thinking quick, you open your mouth and sink your teeth into Toji’s arm that is pinning your hand to the wall. He grunts in pain before you snatch your hand free and elbow him in the stomach. When you turn around, he is absolutely furious, staring you down with a look that would make a man shake in his boots. “Let’s see what you’ve got then, dickhead,” you hiss, putting your fists up and assuming the position for a brawl. 

Toji smirks at you, a quiet deviousness in his eyes. He sizes you up for a moment before he lunges at you. You jump back against the wall and quickly move out of the way, causing him to nearly crash into the wall. Using that as an opening, you pounce on him and lock your arms around his neck, attempting to strangle him. He grunts, gripping your hands as he tightens his neck, making it thicker. He then stands on unsteady knees and tries to throw you off, but you’re not letting go. 

Toji laughs, his voice raspier now with his throat constricted. “Not bad,” he grunts. “Maybe losin’ your job at that whack-ass agency was what you needed. Now let me go.”

But you don’t. You hold on tighter, squeezing his neck with your elbow. Toji grunts again, this time in pain, and falls back onto his knees. You are almost fully on top of him now, nearly strangling him. “C’mon, V, lay off,” he huffs. “That hurts.” 

It should hurt. You want him in pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your gun glistening underneath a dumpster just a foot away. You could reach it with your foot and kick it over to you. 

You could kill this fucker right here. Take him out and show your boss that you got at least one criminal that you were tasked to get. You can complete your mission. 

But Toji’s big, veiny, calloused hands stop you short. Not yet. Unfortunately for you, you’ve still got unfinished business with him and that business includes curing your horniness for him for good. 

“Not until you give me the answer I’m looking for,” you whisper in his ear.“I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately and I remember that you told me if we ever cross paths again, you’d let me join your side.” 

You loosen your grip on his neck, allowing him to take a proper breath. “Well, I’ve decided that I’ll do it: I want to be your hitwoman.” 

Finally, you release him and step back, allowing him to do what he wishes at this moment to you. All he does is turn to face you and then slowly stands, using the brick wall for support. You stifle a laugh as you watch him. You like seeing him struggle. His gray eyes roll up and down your body, sizing you up as he rubs his throat. “What’s the catch?” he asks, suspicious. 

As he should be. You can’t exactly blame the guy since you almost strangled him to death. You shake your head, offering him a smirk that is probably slightly off-putting. You kind of like intimidating him. “No catch. I just figured since I’m as close to you as anyone at my agency, I can help you and you can help me by letting me use my skills again.” 

Toji stares at you in utter disbelief, still rubbing his neck. “For evil?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Isn’t that, like, totally against everything you used to work for?” You huff to yourself, rolling your eyes. “What else am I gonna do, Toji?” you rhetorically ask. “Even if I get another job at an agency, we’d probably cross paths again because you’re on every government agency’s radar.” 

The man stops short of his next smart-ass remark and looks as if he is finally taking in what you are saying. To make him trust you at least an inch more, you back away from your gun, leaving it lying where it is. You raise your hands in defense, letting the cool air slip between your fingers. “I have no attacks left. No games. No weapons. Nothing. Just give me a chance.” 

This can either go one of two ways: he either walks away from you now and leaves you totally humiliated or he takes that gun and shoots you dead. You are prepared for both at this point. There is no way that he will– 

“Fine,” he agrees. You gape at him, shocked, but nothing in his face reads that he is playing around here. Nothing about Toji Fushiguro says “playing around” as long as you’ve known him. “But if you want to prove yourself to me, you’ll have to do it my way…and prove it to someone else.” 

“Who?” you demand, blinking at him. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your body is buzzing, kicking your fight or flight into gear. He suddenly begins sauntering up to you, the scarred corner of his mouth lifted up in a slight smirk. You back away the more he gets closer until your back collides with the brick wall behind you. Toji looms over you like a damn villain, his face shrouded in darkness. “You’ll see. Sorry for this.” Suddenly, in a flash, his hand is gripping your hair and slamming the side of your head into the wall. Pain explodes in your skull and your vision blurs as you lose your footing and collapse onto the pavement. 

Faintly, you sense Toji kneel beside you and smell the mint gum and whiskey on his breath as he leans in toward you. “Nighty-night, mama,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your cheek. Then everything is dark. 

************ 

The next time you wake up, you are in a soft bed that isn’t your own.

You don’t jolt awake and shoot up out of bed. It is a slow awakening….and you coming to consciousness. The last thing you remember is blackness.

But now, all of that is replaced with a luxurious king-sized bed and a soft, wine-colored duvet that you’re currently underneath. Your clothes are also gone, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and thong panties that you got from Soma. You had worn them to the bar in an effort to be “prepared” for a possible hookup. 

You finally sit up and hiss at the ache at the side of your head. Your brain feels like a sledgehammer is knocking against it. You go to rub it, only for your fingers to caress a quarter-sized lump at the base of your scalp. ‘What the hell?’ you think. Where did that come from? Did you run into something while talking with Toji in the bar’s alleyway? 

In an attempt to jumpstart your memory, you look around at your new surroundings, noticing the large window overlooking the late-night sky of Tokyo displayed in front of you. You have no idea what time it is, but you know it has to be somewhere in the AM hours. On your right-hand side is a lounge area with burgundy and black armchairs and a couch staring at a flat-screen mounted on the wall.

To your left is a polished kitchen, mini-bar, and the door. Are you in a hotel suite? A penthouse? “Where am I?” you ask aloud. 

“Don’t worry about it,” a rasped, deep voice answers you. You gasp, turning back to face the lounge area and squinting into the darkness to try and make out a face. A limb. A body. You see absolutely nothing until a light flickers on. Sitting in an armchair with his ringed finger wrapped in the chain of the lamp at his side is someone no short of the Devil himself. “Just be glad we have ya luxury. You coulda woke up in a warehouse.” 

Your body tenses and your heartbeat increases dramatically at the sight of the spiked, pink-haired, tattooed gangster clad in a black tank top, jeans, and a gold chain necklace that hangs down to his tatted pectorals peeking from underneath his top. Sukuna. You thought for sure that you would never see this man again. “You,” you exhale.

Sukuna smirks at you, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. “Me.”

He sits back in his chair and watches you over the rim of his glass, his crimson eyes hunting you despite you already being present. You grip the duve to your chest, hiding yourself from him. “What are you doing here?” you hiss. “Where are my clothes? Where’s Toji?” 

Like clockwork (or being summoned like the demon he is), Toji comes waltzing out of the door behind you on your left, scaring the hell out of you. He is laughing as he does, dressed in black sweats, polo socks, and a white tank top that is way too tight on him and defines every single muscle of his upper torso. “Whoa, whoa, little V,” he chuckles. “One question at a time. You’ll give yourself a damn heart attack….or make that head throb even more.” 

He stops at your bedside, peering down to look at you. He looks almost apologetic as he stares at your face. “Sorry ‘bout that bump, by the way. If it’s any consolation, you still look damn gorgeous.” He gives you a smirk and a glass of water that you didn’t notice he was holding. You hesitantly take it and take a tiny, suspicious lick of the cool liquid before you slowly sip it. 

Sukuna rises from his seat, making an irritated grunt. “Cut the sweet talk, Fushiguro. We ain’t here to woo the bitch.” His eyes, just as menacing and devious as the night you met him at the masquerade ball, bore into yours, gluing you to your spot on the bed. You snap your head around to glare at Toji. “What’s going on?” you demand. “Why is he here?” 

Toji’s brows raise in surprise at you, unswayed by your scornful expression and steely tone. “Oh, you ain’t know? We’re in business together—have been for a couple of months now. I thought your agency was aware.” He gives you a toothy grin that pisses you off even more. Sukuna chuckles, sauntering over to you in his boots. “Shit, me too. You people have been keepin’ tabs on us for a while now, pissin’ me off…” 

He holds a toothpick in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and soft lips. The bottom lip is pierced now and you just see the slight glint of another piercing in his tongue. He regards you with a less-than-sympathetic expression though his lips twitch into a smirk. “So you quit, huh? What’s up with that?” 

He stands on your right while Toji looms over you on your right, the both of them trapping you in the bed. You feel like a prisoner. “I needed a change,” you quietly lie, clutching the duvet closer to your chest. “I’m sure he already told you.” Toji chuckles, liking your bite. “Oh, he did,” Sukuna replies, flicking his toothpick away to somewhere across the room. “I just can’t help but think you’re up to somethin’ if you’re so adamant to be under our wing.” 

He too sizes you up, reading between your lines like you’re an open book. You roll your eyes, threw with their suspicions. “What the fuck do I have to lose?” you ask, exasperated. “I’m not even in law enforcement anymore! I have nothing!” You spread your hands towards them, flipped up and open-palmed. Empty. 

You watch the two gangsters look at each other, silently conversing with one another until they come to a joint decision. Toji’s smirk widens while Sukuna only wears a tight-lipped expression that makes you feel nervous about what is to come. What could they possibly do to you? 

“You really wanna prove yourself to us?” he asks. 

You aren’t sure if you should even answer. But what else can you do? And more importantly…what will they do to you if you don’t answer? Swallowing roughly, you nod. 

“Then kneel.” You blink, not expecting those two threatening words to come from Sukuna’s mouth. You stare at him and then at Toji, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. This is really happening. And you can’t stop it. 

Biting your tongue and swallowing back your fear, you slowly position yourself to kneel on the bed, but Sukuna’s angered expression stops you short. “No,” he barks. “On the floor.” Biting your lip, you slide off of the bed and onto the floor, obediently sitting with your palms placed facedown in your lap. You sit at the feet of the two sexy, dangerous men, staring down at the floor and regretting your life choices. “There you go,” Toji coos. “That’s a good girl.” 

He places a hand on your head, gently petting your hair. A shiver runs through you at the unexpected praise and he notices. “Yeah?” he teases. “You like bein’ called a good girl?” 

To subtract the pleasure, Sukuna takes lockful of your hair and yanks it, bringing his mouth to your ear. “You’d better answer right,” he growls. “I don’t have the patience for bratty bitches.” 

The sting mixes with Toji’s gentle strokes, creating a confusing cocktail of pain and pleasure. “Y-Yes, sirs,” you stammer. A hand grips your chin and forces you to stare up into two sets of intense, lustful eyes. “And you’re gonna do whatever we say, right?” Toji adds, his voice silky and smooth. “Because you wanna prove that you can be good and follow instructions, right?” 

“Yes, sirs,” you repeat. Sukuna releases his harsh hold on your hair, flicking the strands. “Then you’re gonna sit there and let us tie you up, blindfold you, and then do whatever the fuck we want with you,” he sternly says. “And you’re not gonna complain or bitch or moan. You’re gonna let us use you as much as we want to because that’s what you signed up for.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire from the inside. Your entire being buzzes to run. To fight. To be away from them….but at the same time, you’re tempted to stay. “Now be a good slut and close those eyes,” Toji demands. You do as you’re told, doing your best to not shake, even as you hear sudden noises. Even as you feel your wrists being forced behind your back and bound along with your ankles. Even as you feel a blindfold fall onto your eyes, darkening your vision. Even as you feel the cold blade of a knife slice off your bra, leaving your breasts exposed.

You are completely naked, blind, bound, and at the mercy of the two men in the room. “Comfortable?” Sukuna asks. 

“No,” you answer, your wrists already aching from being restricted.  

“Good,” he deadpans. “Now lean forward and hike that ass in the air.”

Slowly, you tilt yourself forward in an effort to not crash into the floor, but Toji helps you, keeping a hand on your back. You hear the two audibly groan at the sight of your plump ass in their faces when you’ve assumed the desired position, your cheek squished against the floor. There is no warning to the several harsh slaps that the two men give you, open-palmed and without mercy. The burning sensation you feel on both cheeks is intense, the loud sounds of their hands colliding with your butt evidence of how hard they are hitting you. 

SPANK! 

SPANK! 

SPANK! 

“Ow!” you exclaim, flinching at the harsh spank. Sukuna gives your asscheek a scrape with his teeth, making you flinch. “Shut up,” he demands. “You knew what you were in for when you decided to pursue him outside the bar. Just who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” 

“Aw, I like hearin’ her sing,” Toji cackles. “She’s so adorable like this.” His big hand cascades down your stinging ass, soothing the fiery sensation. Sukuna is less gentle, instead opting to give your pussy a couple of smacks over your panties. “As soon as he hit me up, I shot over here just to get the chance to use you again.” 

Snip-snip. The knife cuts through your panties with ease, leaving your cunt exposed to the cool air and the two men. You do your best to not shake. “And you’re goin’ to enjoy it: because that’s what sluts like. And you’ll really like this shit.” You hear a buzzing sound and already know what they are planning for you. 

You can’t run or hide or squirm when Sukuna presses the vibe against your clit as he begins eating your pussy, his soft lips and tongue caressing your slit. You moan into the floor at each long lick that he gives you, start with your slit and prying your lips open to slurp you straight from the source. The buzzing sensations from the vibe are too intense, each vibration rocking you to your core and quickly making you soaked. “Ah!” you gasp. “W-Wait, it’s too much!” 

“That’s ‘cause it’s on the highest setting, baby girl,” Toji chuckles, watching Sukuna lick you down. “Don’t squirm or even think about grindin’ that pussy against that toy. You won’t like what we’ll do next if you do.” 

Click-click. 

Your body freezes at the familiar sound of a gun cocking. Of course, they would have a fun. Sukuna stops his eating and his hand suddenly grips your hair, forcing you to sit up. Your new position causes the vibe to settle between your thighs underneath you, pushing itself right up against your pussy. The cool barrel of the gun presses against your wobbly lips. “Suck on it, babes,” Toji coos. “C’mon, you’ve done it before. You know exactly how to put those lips to work.” 

With no choice in the matter, you open your mouth and allow Toji to slowly insert the gun into your mouth. And you suck. No matter how afraid or how much your body is fighting against it, you bob your head up and down as if you’re sucking a cock, hollowing your cheeks along the cold metal barrel. “Aaaatta girl,” Toji teasingly drawls out. “Open that throat for us.” 

You whimper around the gun as the toy continues to buzz against your cunt, making you sobbing wet. You feel that it is against your will…is it? Is anyone of this? The lines are becoming blurry now. “Enough of this shit,” Sukuna growls. “She needs to suck on somethin’ else now. That’s why she’s here.” 

Toji huffs, but fortunately takes the gun out of your mouth now slick with spit. “So impatient. Whatever happened to foreplay?” You hear the rustle of clothes and you already know what is coming next. Minty breath fans over your face and soft lips kiss the shell of your ear. “Want somethin’ else in that mouth, mama?” he whispers. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer…and neither does Sukuna judging by the very real, very warm, and very hard cocks suddenly lightly tapping your face. “Instead of one big cock, you get two! Aren’t you a lucky slut!” You make a noise between a whimper and a grunt as one cock pushes past your lips and settles on your tongue. 

“God, I’ve been fuckin’ waitin’ for this,” Toji sighs, already moving his cock past the threshold of your soft, wet mouth to intrude your throat. You gag, not quite ready for him yet, but you open your throat in an attempt to yawn as he begins fucking it like he would a toy. Spit begins to drip from your mouth as he fucks your face, allowing him to do so more easily. “Not bad, baby doll,” he grunts. “You’re better cocksucker than a fighter honestly.” 

Sukuna chuckles, the sound rumbly and deep. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He grabs the back of your neck and forces you to take him now, shoving his cock deep down your throat until his balls touch your chin. “That’s it,” he groans, rolling his hips against your face. “Take me. Just like you need.” He is more ferrous in his fucking than Toji is, gripping the back of your head to pull you back and forth onto his dick. 

Toji hums pleasantly as he watches you–the beautiful little slut blindfolded and bound–get face-fucked like there is no tomorrow by a grunting and groaning Sukuna, his face as flushed as his pink hair. “Slow your roll, Ryomen,” he chuckles. “Don’t forget that I’m here too.” You feel his hard cock slap against your cheek, his sticky head dripping with pre. 

They take turns using your mouth like this, grabbing your hair to push you back and forth between them, forcefully fucking your face. You have no choice but to go along with it, relaxing your jaw as much as possible despite how much it aches. They are too fucking big! How the hell did you do this before? 

But no matter how rough they are fucking your mouth, the fact that it turns you on remains. The toy buzzing against your sloppy, sobbing wet cunt knows it–it slides against your lips and continues to send those intense, merciless, damn pleasurable vibrations throughout your needy little button, making it almost impossible for you not to cum. It just happens. While Toji is fucking your face, complimenting you on your “goddamn beautiful mouth”, you moan around his cock as your pussy unravels on the toy. 

The men notice. Of course, they do. “Stop,” Sukuna orders Toji, glaring down at your whimpering, quivering lips. He tuts at you as if you’re no more than a bug. “Cumming without permission, huh?” he sighs. “‘Dumb slut just doesn’t know when to quit. Guess it can’t be helped.” 

Once Toji has got his dick out of your mouth, Sukuna roughly bends you over and replaces the toy with his mouth. “Let’s see how you’ll do this time around,” he hisses before his tongue is invading your pussy, making your quivering walls and each muscle even more tender and sensitive from his relentless tongue-fucking. “S-Sukuna, wait!” you wail, desperately panting and wailing from his mouth. 

“But nothin’,” Toji growls, his cock sinking back into your mouth. “Nothin’ but you takin’ the rest of this dick. C’mon, pretty girl…don’t you wanna please your new boss?” His chuckle is almost evil as he fucks your mouth once more, his hands indulging in your soft tummy and ass, smacking the beautiful globes as Sukuna greedily laps at your cunt. You thought that the vibrator was intense? Sukuna’s mouth tops that by far. His soft lips and long tongue caress every single part of your pussy and clit, alternating between slurping at both, drinking you in like a starved man. 

It doesn’t take you long for another orgasm to rise to the surface, forcefully so. Sukuna can feel it in the way your pussy tightens around his moving, swirling tongue as Toji groans, plap-plap-plapping away at your mouth. “Hold it,” the pink-haired gangster growls, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. “Tell us you’re ours and you can cum. Don’t you dare fuckin’ disobey me.” 

Gasps and moans leave your lips, your fingers and toes curling at the pleasurable sensations and the sheer willpower it takes for you not to cum. “Tell us, mama,” Toji moans, tapping your chin with his fingers. “Tell us that this body is ours and we’ll make you cum as many times as you need to.” 

And you do. Goddammit, you do. You’ll do anything it takes to just cum. It is too much for your body to hold on and not release. “I’m yours!” you sob. “I promise I’m yours!” Your beautiful voice crying out for them both is enough to make both men stick their cocks in you and rail you until they fill you up. Finally, finally, you are allowed to cum after you commit the ultimate sin and sign of disrespect to yourself. “Do it,” Sukuna growls into your pussy. “Cum for me. Don’t deny me, V.” 

It takes a while to build, but once it does, it comes crashing down like a house of cards, washing over you. As your pussy cums into Sukuna’s waiting mouth, the gangster quickly tears himself away from you and slides his cock inside of you without warning. You let out a high-pitched yelp at the sudden stretch just as you are in the throes of your second orgasm. 

Sukuna leans down to nibble on your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe. “Gotcha,” he whispers. He grabs your hips, digging his nails in, and proceeds to slowly rock into you, giving you both a chance to get used to each other. Unfortunately for you, he feels good. Horribly, sinfully, disgustingly good. The way he stretches out the velvety, wet walls of your pussy and creates sloppy, squelching sounds whenever he thrusts add to the tingles of pleasure in your core that grow with every passing second. 

Sukuna grunts in your ear, overcome by how tight and wet you are. You grip him like a vice, tempting him to get closer by gripping your ass with one greedy hand while the other toys with one of your juicy, dripping tits. Toji watches on, pumping his cock with one fist in your face by your blindfolded eyes. “How’s she feel, man?” he asks, his tone husky and low. Sukuna’s hooded gaze briefly meets his before falling back down to your jiggling ass. “Fuckin’....fuck,” he groans. 

Toji tosses his head back and laughs as if that was the funniest shit he has ever heard. “I knew it was a good idea to stalk your pretty ass!” he guffaws, giving your ass a hard smack. Your brows narrow, confused by his statement. “What, you really thought us meetin’ at the same bar was a friendly coincidence?” he chuckles. “I’ve been after your ass ever since that night at the strip club.” 

Oh, no. OH, NO. 

“And when we started workin’ together, I knew it’d only be a matter of time till we met again,” Sukuna adds, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Ad now here we are.” He squeezes, causing you to let out a wheezed gasp as he sinks his cock in deeper, his balls slapping against your clit. “C’mon, fuck me back. You don’t get to just enjoy this shit. You’ve gotta work for it.” 

You do your best to rock yourself back, only causing him to fuck you harder. The sounds of his balls slapping your clit and your ass colliding with his thighs echoes throughout the hotel room along with your moans and his deep, guttural grunts. You’ve never been fucked like this before–so rough and ferocious. No man could ever fuck you and make you feel such a way or take you out of yourself. “Oh, my God!” you bellow, losing all composure. 

Sukuna chuckles, massaging your throat as he continues to plow your pussy just right, nailing that spot that makes you see stars over and over again. “Thanks, but not quite, baby,” he sniggers. “Guess the dick has got that brain goin’ stupid, huh?” 

Toji cackles, massaging his cock head against your soft, juicy lips. “Stupid is a nice look on her,” he comments, chuckling. “You look so pretty takin’ cock, sugar. Now isn’t this better than fightin’ in a dark alleyway?” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. The act of talking has completely left your brain as the man behind you fucks your pussy off of its hinges, rutting into you and grabbing your ass for leverage. His fingers dig into the flesh of your buttocks, the sting of it mixing with the pleasurable sting you feel from his cock repeatedly plunging in and out of you. 

You can tell that he is close when his moans start increasing, getting louder, and his cock starts swelling inside of you. “Take it,” he hisses into your ear. “Take this shit. Just like a good girl should.” And without warning, he finally blows his load inside of you with a loud moan that nearly triggers your own orgasm. You gasp as you feel a warm shot of his cum enter you, filling you up. 

Sukuna purrs–no shit, he actually purrs–as he nuzzles his face into your ear, nipping at your cheek with his teeth. “That’s a good girl,” he whispers, still softly groaning as the rest of his spunk escapes him and enters you.

Once exhaustion and post-nut clarity kick in, he slowly slides out of you, emitting a weak moan from both of you. His cum drips from your pussy and down your thighs, making them slick. Toji smiles at you, looking proud of your ‘accomplishment’.

“Not bad, baby,” he chuckles. “I was sure he fucked you out of your mind.” 

And he did. You are so dizzy, dazed, and disoriented that it feels like your head has been dunked underwater. Your eardrums are throbbing. You’re in need of air despite your lungs filling with it every time you inhale to catch your breath.

“Uncuff her,” Toji orders. “I wanna lay her down.” There is a pause, obviously because Sukuna is giving him a WTF look. “She’s not gonna go nowhere,” Toji scoffs. “The girl can’t even breathe!” 

And you can’t. The exhaustion is too intense to even think about an escape route. That is why you let Sukuna uncuff your aching wrists and ankles. And you let Toji lie you down on the floor on your back. You feel him on top of you, hovering over you. “Hey.” Tap-tap. You feel his hand lightly smack your cheek. “You good, baby?” he asks. “Talk to me.” 

Somehow, you find the willpower and energy to speak: “Y-Yes,” you stammer. The criminal is pleased. “Good. I need you alive and lookin’ at me when I fuck you.” Without another word, he snatches your blindfold off to allow you to see his face twist in ecstasy as he slides his hard cock inside of you. Your eyes squeeze shut as he fills you just as Sukuna had, stretching out your wet walls and tenderizing your cunt. You can’t take it. It’s too much. Your pussy is about to burst!

Toji grips your chin hard, damn near imprinting his fingerprints into your chin. “Look at me,” he demands, his handsome face flushed, black strands of his hair falling in his face. “You look at nothin’ but me while I fuck this pussy, got it?” You don’t answer. You can’t–not while he is slowly and deeply filling your pussy with his cock, plunging in and out of you, drawing weak moans and sobs out of your tired, aching body. 

Suddenly, Sukuna’s cock head is pressed against your lips as his hand wraps tightly around the base, pumping himself in your face. “Sorry, baby doll,” he chuckles. “Couldn’t help myself. Lucky for you, all you gotta do is lie there and take it.” He hovers above your head, his balls hanging down to lightly brush against your nose as he strokes himself away to the sight of Toji fucking you dumb in mating press. 

They use you. Take you. Break you. With every thrust of Toji’s hard, throbbing, pulsing cock, you know that you will never be the same. Toji digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass, fully mounted on you and drilling his cock into you. “Keep this shit up and you’ll make a very nice hitwoman for us,” he chuckles. “Maybe even our personal fucktoy. Wouldn’t that be a job!” 

Wouldn’t it? No responsibilities. No missions. You would just get paid to suck and fuck these two mobsters. You would just lie on your back, hike your legs in the air, and let them use your holes as much as they want to, day or night, rain or shine. Your job would just to be a slut for them. 

And so far, you’re doing a good job at that when you watch Toji’s face. His eyes roll to the back of his head, showing the whites of his eyeballs, as his thrusts become harder and fast paced.

“M’close,” he warns. “‘Bout to fill this pussy up. Make me cum, baby V.” You grip his forearms and hold onto him as he rails you harder, faster, making your tits and tummy jiggle with the force of his fucking. 

Finally, with a moan louder than Sukuna’s, Toji explodes inside of you, releasing rope after rope of cum inside of your pussy. You can’t help it: you cum too. Sparks of electric pleasure shock you from the inside out as your pussy tightens and flexes around the hard cock inside of you, drawing your third orgasm out of you. Seconds later, Sukuna gives a guttural groan and busts another load onto your lips, coating them in his spunk. 

“Taste me,” he demands. You open your mouth, allowing him to slip the head in and gently fuck your mouth, letting his cum settle onto your tastebuds. Meanwhile, Toji is pushing the rest of his load inside of you, soft grunts leaving his lips, quite possibly knocking you up…or maybe Sukuna did too? You don’t know. You can’t find it in you to care right now. 

Finally, Toji slows his thrusts and pulls his cock out of you, causing his cum to leak from your cunt and mix with Sukuna’s. He leans back onto his haunches, his toned body dripping in perspiration. “Consider yourself hired,” he pants. “You’ve convinced us well.” He gives you a smirk, a playful glint in his grey eyes. Sukuna chuckles, slipping his now-flaccid cock out of your mouth. 

You feel tired. Sticky. Achy. Used. You should ask where your clothes are and get out of here as fast as you can to avoid what will happen next. But the only thing in your head is how you need to be clean. “Can I use your shower please?” you rasp out. They are the first words that you’ve actually spoken in an hour since the sex began. 

The two gangsters give you a curious look, still kneeling before you, naked and coated in sweat. “Can ya walk?” Toji asks, raising an eyebrow. You slowly nod, standing on your own despite how unsteady and wobbly you feel. They watch you as you find your clothes and take them with you to the bathroom. You can feel their eyes burning into you as you go. Even when you close the door, you feel them staring. 

After digging into your jacket for your phone and setting it on the sink, you leave your clothes discarded on the floor and turn the shower on. The showerhead is the kind that has jets that remind you of rainforest waterfalls, steamy and fresh. You immediately step in and sigh, the hot water taking everything away–the sweat, the spunk, the exhaustion. All of what you just did gets swept down the drain. 

As you begin washing yourself with the lemongrass soap left on the inside, you hear your phone ding and you smile. Your smile only deepens as each second passes and you hear Toji and Sukuna talk among themselves outside the door. They have no idea. Not yet. 

And then you hear it. 

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! 

You don’t flinch or jump or drop the tiny bottle of body wash. You know they are here. You were counting on it. “Who the fuck is that?!” Sukuna barks over the rushing water in your ears. 

“Police!” a loud, booming voice bellows from behind the hotel door. “Open up now or we’re kicking the door down!” 

The sound of running footsteps as the two criminals lose their shit makes you giggle as you continue to peacefully wash away. “Shhhhit!” Toji hisses. “Who the fuck called the fuckin’ cops?!” 

“I told you we couldn’t trust that bitch!” Sukuna angrily hollers. 

And then you hear a crash and splintering wood as the door comes crashing down. There is loud shouting. Booming footsteps. The cocking of guns. Thudding against the wall from possible fighting. “Toji Fusiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, you are under arrest,” one of the officers announces. 

With a smile, you shut off the running water and finally strut out of the bathroom, fresh and clean. You grab your phone and snatch up a rope left hanging on the hooks beside the shower, sighing at the soft fabric as it hits your skin and falls to your ankles. When you open the door, you are greeted by an officer in full gear already standing at the bathroom door, prepared to kick it down. “Are you V L/N?” he questions. 

You nod, calm and collected. “I am.” Even as the sight before you isn’t calm or collected: Sukuna and Toji are pressed to the floor on their stomachs, luckily semi-clothed…and very angry. Two officers are sitting on their legs, pinning them down as they handcuff them. Among the officers, you see C.O.D.E. agents checking out the scene, plastic gloves on their hands to avoid contaminating evidence.

When you and your boss lock eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude and like everything is going to be okay. “V!” he yells, immediately moving towards you. “Are you alright? How long were you here for? We lost track of you at some point.” 

You give him a smile, shaking your head. You are fine. You are more than fine. 

Slowly, you turn towards the two men who have been haunting and destroying your life for months lying helpless on the floor, cuffed and restricted. You kneel down in front of them and they follow your every move like you’re a crazed animal.

“You think you two were the only ones doin’ some stalking?” you ask, your voice cool and quiet. “I’ve been stalking you two for weeks now, using everything C.O.D.E. provided on you.” 

You watch as a light of realization flickers in Sukuna and Toji’s eyes. They had no idea and you were counting on it. When you left your agency that first day, you made sure to stop by the file room and snatch Toji’s file after keeping Sukuna’s with you. You studied them for weeks, including their locations, before you started doing your own research. 

And then started talking to guys who knew guys who knew other guys who knew Toji and Sukuna. You paid them, of course, for their time, and began following your targets. To different cities. Hotels. Restaurants. Clubs. Sitting in your unmarked car with the windows tinted. Pressed against buildings, straining to ear conversations. Sitting close enough to hear but not be so obvious or suspicious. Your skills as a hitwoman came in mighty useful hand. 

And then finally, when Toji ended up on your side of town, you knew the time to act was now. So you texted your boss your plan that very night and told him to keep track of you by your bugged phone. You kept the C.O.D.E. tracker on your phone for just this reason: to finally bag these two fuckers the way you should’ve months before. It has all come together. 

You stare each of them in the eye, willing them to see the finality of their situation in them. “You two are sloppy criminals,” you growl. “If you’re going to fuck a hit-woman, you should make sure that her phone isn’t bugged.” 

Toji blankly stares at you, giving you the impression that he may not have clearly heard you…but then he smiles. Really smiles, all of his pearly teeth shining at you. It is unnerving yet beautiful. As he is hauled up by two officers, he gives you a once-over, his grey eyes roaming over your body. “Not bad, babe,” he comments. “Not bad at all.” 

But Sukuna is way less appraisal or accepting. As the officers hike him up in his boxers, keeping hold on him because of how much he fights, he gives you a glare that is full of a thousand scalding fires that are painful and rageful. Not at all lustful or passionate. “You may have won this now, but it’s short-lived,” he hisses. “It’s only a matter of time until I get out and when I do, I’m comin’ straight for you. That’s a fuckin’ promise.” He practically spits the word at you, staring at you like you’re the enemy. 

You know you are. You knew that despite all of what they just did to you, you would be seen as nothing more than the villain in their story after all of this went down. So you play the part. With a small smirk, your shoulders back, and an unwavering, determined look as you stare into his crimson eyes, you answer him: “Don’t worry, Sukuna–I’ll be waiting.” 

The officers don’t wait for you to see Sukuna’s reaction. They haunt him and Toji off by their cuffed arms while four others keep their guns aimed at the two criminals in case they try something. You stand there in your robe, watching them as they are dragged away out of the hotel suite. 

Your boss lays a comforting hand on your shoulder, firmly squeezing it. “V, are you okay?” he worriedly asks. 

You turn to him and it feels as if for the first time in months, a weight has been lifted off of you. No more nightmares. No more urges. No more hauntings. You feel nothing but peace. Finally.

“I’ve never felt better, sir.”

THE END.  

[lizard-zombie]

Had an idea and im too lazy to write it and i don’t know enough about the tlou universe so here’s a word vomit instead

—

So you and Joel are a thing. Y’all met at QZ and after a year or two, you and Joel became a couple. Maybe you are besties with Tess or maybe you are just friends/acquaintances. Up to you. Regardless of your relationship with Tess, you three work and most likely live together.

You understand that Tess and Joel are good friends and great partners. You weren’t jealous of Tess. The green eyed monster never made an appearance since you got together with Joel.

He reminded you of your talents, your little quirks, those tiny habits that had him falling in love with you and only you. He quelled your fears and insecurities until an unshakable trust was solidified in your heart and your mind. Now you two are almost four years strong in your relationship. Once you found peace, you were able to admire Tess without feeling any doubt. Strong, independent, smart, she was someone you strived to be.

Your feelings about her didn’t change even when you found out that she harbored feelings for your lover. Tess admitted it to you one late night. It was just the two of you and some bottles of shitty beer. She respected you and respected Joel. She was glad to step back for the two of you. Joel was happy and that was all she cared about. Even if Tess felt the desire to rip him away from you, she was sure Joel’s heart would always be with you. She bet her favorite two guns on it. You two became a lot closer after that.

Now Tess was dead. Joel was different after her death. Anyone would be after having someone close to you sacrifice themselves for your safety. You did your best to comfort him and support him as you both grieved. But as the days went by, your relationship with him felt off. Most times, he’d pull you in and hold you in his strong arms. It was familiar and you happily snuggled into his chest. Sometimes, he would shut you out, refusing to talk, refusing to touch.

You don’t know when it began but that “sometimes” became “most times”. Eventually, he not only shut you out, but he seemed to actively push you away. His gruff voice turned cold, his attitude harsher than usual. There were nights when the Joel you knew resurfaced. Sweet, soft, understanding. He’d apologize for being a dick and you accepted him with open arms. This bliss would only last for a few days and the jaded Joel would nestle in again.

You’d gotten used to this new hot and cold pattern and learned the best ways to deal with these flips. One of the ways to help relive him of whatever had be stressing him was to fuck you. Naturally, you didn’t mind. Depending on his mood, he’d pound into you with no remorse, a monster drilling you into whatever you were against. A tree, a table, the disgusting forest floor. You didn’t care. Joel was take care of you. All you wanted was him and his cock and to help him feel better. While you loved the wild and rough sex, you adored the long, passionate nights where both of you were drunk on each other, love pouring out of every molecule in your bodies.

You thought things would be okay. You thought wrong. It was some odd hour the morning, the embers of the fire hardly even glowing. You and Joel were basking in post-orgasmic bliss, floating in the feelings of being partially awake and mostly asleep. You were relishing in the feeling of him giving sloppy neck kisses when something slipped from his mouth. A name slipped from his mouth. And it wasn’t yours. In his hazy mind, you weren’t here with him.

Tess was.

The sun finally rose and unlike your companions, you hadn’t got a wink of sleep. Suddenly, Joel’s attitude made sense. Everything, his actions, his words, his feelings, it all made sense. Some time when he was mourning, he stopped seeing you and started seeing the ghost of Tess. He loved her. He fucking loved her. And he didn’t even know it.

Tess was dead and had seemed to have taken Joel along with her.

That left you, confused and broken and alone in the land of the living. You didn’t say anything about it and neither did he but you were pretty sure that was because he didn’t even remember saying it. A few days went by and you did your best to distance yourself from your lover.

Lover.

You wanted to keep calling him your lover, but you kept hearing whispers to add the prefix. An ex-lover. It made you sick to your stomach.

It was almost funny. You were never jealous of Tess when she was alive, but now that she was dead, you found it squeezing you by the throat. Guilt and shame coursed through you every time you caught yourself growing angry. It felt disrespectful to the dead even if you weren’t blaming her.

You let out a pitiful chuckle as you stared at the night sky. Tess lost the bet. She owes you her two favorite guns.

—

Anyway but yah something like that.

OMG OMG wait ok so train of thought part two lol

—

Y’all got together after Joel and Tess meet Bill and Frank and you just never really interacted with them. Joel and Tess are private people so they don’t bring up others in conversation even if they are friends with our favorite gays. So the boys don’t know you. You are not included in Bill’s letter to Joel. It’s only Tess.

It didn’t bug you at the time because the thought that Joel wasn’t yours hadn’t crossed your mind. But now you know. And now you think about it. And it breaks you more and more every time.

You get closer to Ellie. You busy yourself with her, allowing yourself to get lost in maternal instinct.

—

This is where my brain splits.

—

On one hand, I am living for the angst and think they shouldn’t get together in the end. Even if he tried to come back to you, you refuse and everyone proceeds to be unhappy and hurt. Well not everyone. Like Ellie is happy to have a father and mother figure. But she’s not too happy because said mother and father figure are at serious odds and have an irreparable relationship.

—

On the other hand, we could continue and Joel works his shit out kind of and realizes that you are acting differently. After brooding mulling over it, he approaches you and brings it up. Naturally, it doesn’t go well and you explode, tell him every. single. thing.

Does he take it well? No. Why would you think otherwise. Probably yells back at you, things escalated and now you two aren’t even looking at each other. You can’t even stand being two feet of him. Ellie is tired of your bullshit but is glad you aren’t taking it out on her.

Eventually we get to see Joel twist and turn and crack and break as he explores himself. Bro is fucked up and he knows this but now he is forced to try to untangle part of his fucked up-ness if he want to repair things with you.

Yay Joel Miller character development <3

While Joel is struggling and suffering, Ellie is trying to talk to you about your relationship. Ellie is a smart and attentive kid. She sees that Joel is trying his best with the whole people thing. She also sees that Joel really cares for you. He does love you.

You tell her that he loved Tess.

Ellie just shrugged. Yeah he loved Tess, but he loves you more. Her death is bringing more things out of him, making him realize his feelings, but that’s part of the mourning process. He’ll return to you. Okay so Ellie is kinda pulling some shit out of her ass but based on some romance novels she managed to snatch, so there had to be some truth to it.

Idk something something but you think about it and eventually become less hostile towards Joel and he more attentive to you. Y’all end up talking and relaxing in each other’s presence. Idk what happens in the game except for a few stuff but ig they get to wherever they are going and you relearn how to trust him again and Joel becomes a softer and more open man. This is a really really long process lol

By the time Joel reunites with his brother, you two are at a point where Joel introduces you as his girlfriend. It’s still fragile but y’all really trying.

It ends with you looking back up at the night sky and whisper that Tess can keep her guns. The bet was not lost after all.

—

Oh and on the side, y’all eventually get married before Joel…well yk…

-

unleSS WE CHANGE IT AND EVERYONE LIVES HAPPILY EVER AFTER YAY

[scarletiswailing347]

something i hate about being used to small/dead fandoms is that the more active somethings fandom is the more overwhelmed i get which sucks cause i do wanna participate but oh my god theres way too many ppl here

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

[simpforboys]

nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

[winxanity-ii]

DAMNED DEVOTION [3/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( m. receiving oral/handjob; fem. receiving oral; p in v; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; breeding kink; degradation/praise kink; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 5.4k a/n: ahhh, i can't believe i finally finished the final part to this little 'devotion' piece. to thank you all for following along with this series i may have gone a little filthy 😅 also, don't know if you guys care to know, but it's my twin (@k-nayee) and i's 20th birthday today, wheeewwww 🎉🥳! i'll see you all in the next update, and don't be afraid to shoot an ask/request or check out my other works! this is a continuation of my previous one-shotS, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍' and '𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read those yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ ���‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

It was a bright afternoon, the sun hanging high in the sky, its rays filtering through the branches of the old oak tree that stood at the edge of the courtyard. The air smelled fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant murmur of conversation.

A group of young nuns-in-training, dressed in their modest habits, sat on the grass, their voices soft with laughter. You were among them, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, your Bible open in your lap, a pencil in your hand as you made notes from the earlier service.

The warmth of the sun on your skin made you feel content, almost peaceful, and you were momentarily lost in thought, the words on the page blurring slightly as your mind wandered.

"Sister ____!" a voice called, breaking through your concentration.

You looked up, startled, to see one of the younger nuns smiling at you, her eyes bright with curiosity. She had a round face, still clinging to the softness of her youth, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Her name was Sister Olive, and she was always one of the more talkative ones, her energy infectious among the group.

"Yes?" you replied, giving her a gentle smile. The group of nuns-in-training giggled amongst themselves, their eyes flickering between you and something—or rather someone—further down the courtyard path.

You followed their gaze and saw Father Charlie walking alongside another priest, his expression focused, his hands clasped behind his back.

The sun seemed to catch on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the soft waves of his hair. He looked every bit the holy man, yet there was an undeniable handsomeness to him, something that drew eyes wherever he went.

Sister Olive leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sister ____, does Father Charlie have a wife?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, confused by the question. "Pardon?" you asked, blinking as you looked back at her.

The group broke into another fit of giggles, Sister Olive glancing towards Father Charlie again before continuing. "I heard that priests can be married if they were married before being ordained..." she trailed off, her tone curious, her gaze turning back to you. "I just wondered if Father Charlie was ever married. He seems like he could be, doesn't he?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, Sister Olive, he isn't married," you answered, your tone soft but firm.

The young nuns exchanged glances, and another wave of giggles spread through the group, their laughter light and full of the innocence of youth.

Sister Olive sighed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, I thought so. He's too serious to have a wife, don't you think? But still... he's quite handsome."

You swallowed, glancing back towards Father Charlie, who was now nearing the edge of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for something—or someone.

You quickly looked away, your heart fluttering in your chest, a strange mixture of emotions churning within you. You knew you shouldn't think of him in that way, shouldn't let the words of the younger nuns affect you, but it was impossible not to.

The memory of his touch, his voice, the way he had looked at you in the confessional—it all came rushing back, making your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly as you closed your Bible.

A second later, a shadow fell over the group; the young nuns quickly quieted, their giggles turning into soft murmurs. Looking up, you saw Father Charlie standing before you, a small, knowing grin on his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your breath catch. He gave a short, polite bow of his head. "Good morning, Sister ____," he said, his voice smooth, almost gentle, before his gaze shifted to the rest of the group. "Good morning, sisters."

The young nuns responded in unison, their voices a mix of giggles and greetings. You looked down at your Bible, mumbling a quiet, "Good morning, Father Charlie," along with the others, your face heating up under his watchful eyes.

You thought that was the end of it, that he would move on and let you be, but then he spoke again, his voice calling your name.

"Sister ____," he said, his tone still polite, but there was something in it that made your heart skip a beat. "I was hoping I could have your assistance with preparing for next week's sermon. I need some help organizing the notes and scriptures. Would you be able to spare a moment?"

You felt your heart race, already knowing that this was a lie, that his request had little to do with the sermon and everything to do with the tension that lingered between you.

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, nodding as you closed your Bible and rose to your feet. "Of course, Father," you replied, turning to the young nuns. "I'll see you all later."

They nodded, their eyes wide with curiosity as they watched you walk away with Father Charlie. He led you across the courtyard, his pace measured, his hands clasped behind his back.

You followed him in silence, your heart pounding, your mind racing with a mix of anticipation and fear.

He brought you to the sacristy—a room in the church where sacred objects and vestments were kept and prepared for use during rituals.

The room was medium-sized, its thick concrete walls lined with shelves that held ornate chalices, gilded candlesticks, and other sacred items. A large wooden table stood in the center, covered with cloth and a few open books, the sunlight streaming through the small window, casting a warm glow over the space.

The air smelled faintly of incense, the scent comforting yet heavy, reminding you of the solemnity of the church.

You turned around just in time to see Father Charlie shut the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as he turned back to you, his eyes dark, filled with something you couldn't quite name—something that made your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly at your sides.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, and turned back around, your eyes roaming over the various sacred objects lining the shelves. You busied yourself by adjusting the cloth on the table, pretending to study the items, anything to keep yourself distracted from the tension filling the room.

You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, the air thick with something unspoken.

A shudder ran through you as you felt his hands on your shoulders, his fingers rubbing gently against the fabric of your habit, caressing your shoulders with a slow, deliberate touch. You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tremble that ran through your body, your breath catching in your throat.

"F-Father Charlie..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, he spun you around, his hands firm on your shoulders. His eyes were intense, dark, filled with a hunger that made your knees weak. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the way his pupils were blown wide; his lips parted slightly as he looked at you.

"Shhh," he murmured, one of his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but there was an intensity behind it that made your heart race. His gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were caught, trapped in the depth of his eyes, unable to look away.

You took a shaky step back, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white as you spoke, your voice trembling. "Father, I... I find myself at war. What we... what we have, it's wrong. It's against everything we believe in, everything we stand for. I can't... we can't keep doing this."

You heard him let out a soft, frustrated sigh, and a second later, his hands were on you again, spinning you around to face him. There was a tension in his jaw; his eyes narrowed slightly, frustration evident in the way he looked at you.

"No," he said, his voice firm, his gaze intense as he held you in place. "No, Sister. You're wrong. This... what we have, it's not wrong. It's not some sin that we need to be ashamed of." His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you think the love between Jesus and Mary Magdalene was wrong? Do you think He loved her any less because of who she was? Love is not something to be condemned, not when it's real... not when it consumes you the way this consumes me."

His voice dropped lower, almost a groan, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours. "You have no idea what you do to me. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you speak—it's made me delirious. I can't think of anything else but you; I can't focus on anything but this need, this hunger for you. You've taken hold of me, body and soul, and I can't... I can't let you go."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his gaze, the raw need in his voice. You could feel your resolve crumbling, the conflict within you fading beneath the weight of his confession, the depth of his longing.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, a desperate edge to his words. "Please, just let me have you, one last time. If you're sure—if you really mean it, I'll let you go. But please... just one more time."

A soft, almost mousy, "Okay," left your lips before you could stop yourself, the word barely audible, but it was all he needed.

In an instant, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands pulling you close, his fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you with a hunger that took your breath away.

Your steps staggered back, your body unsteady as he moved with you, following you, his lips never leaving yours. Your back hit the edge of the table, and he pressed against you, his body warm, his touch insistent, his kiss deepening as his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he guided you onto the table, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the intensity of his need, the way his body pressed against yours, his hands exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His fingers were frantic as they pushed up your habit, his touch rough, almost desperate. His lips never left your skin, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, across your chest.

You could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, his need evident in every hurried movement, every touch. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing your soft moans as his hands moved beneath the fabric, lifting it higher, his touch hot against your bare skin.

You gasped when he dropped to his knees before you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, his hands holding your legs apart. Just as he was about to continue, you panicked slightly, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. "W-Wait," you stuttered, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie looked up at you, his gaze questioning, his breath hot against your thighs. His eyes were dark, filled with desire, and his lips were parted, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously as you avoided his gaze, your fingers still gripping his shoulders. "I... you always... I mean, you always... please me with your mouth," you stammered, your face growing hot, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I was wondering if... if I could... return the favor?"

Your words were awkward, your innocence clear in the way you spoke, the way your eyes flickered everywhere but at him. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your voice going quiet. "I mean... if you want, Father..." You finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, nervous, and hopeful.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension. You began to worry that you had said something wrong, that you had crossed some line, but then Charlie let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your thighs, his head dropping against them. He muttered something, his voice muffled, and you barely caught the words, "Are you truly an angel, or a devil sent to test me?"

He stood slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs as he rose, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached you, he cupped your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, his tongue teasing, tasting, and when he finally pulled away, he left a soft peck against your lips. His eyes were softer now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip, his touch tender.

Then, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening, a low, commanding tone entering his voice as he spoke. "Get on your knees," he said, his voice almost a growl.

You felt a shiver run through you, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You stared up at him, your heart pounding, your pulse quickening as you saw the way his eyes had darkened, the hunger there almost overwhelming. His breathing was shallow, his gaze so intense it made your knees weak.

Slowly, you moved, slipping off the table, your feet touching the ground as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. You didn't break eye contact as you descended, your gaze locked on his, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

There was something electric in the air, something that made your skin tingle, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

Father Charlie's eyes were dark, his gaze fixed on you, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling as he watched you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you almost unbearable.

You knelt there, looking up at him, your hands resting on your thighs, waiting, anticipating.

Slowly, Charlie's hands moved beneath his robes, the rustling of fabric almost deafening in the silence of the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him, expecting him to pull his robes up and over his waist, but instead, he began slipping off the entire robe, his movements slow, deliberate.

Your gaze was drawn to his chest as the robe slid off his shoulders, revealing smooth, tanned skin, the muscles beneath rippling with each movement. He pulled the robe over his head, his arms flexing, the fabric falling to the floor behind him.

Your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every inch of him—the broadness of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell, the dark hair that started at his navel and led downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his unbuckled trousers.

There was a dark line of hair, a happy trail that made your breathing stutter, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Charlie's eyes never left yours as he reached down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch gentle, almost affectionate. His thumb caressed the bottom of your face before his hand shifted, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered slightly. His eyes darkened, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Pull it out," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He dropped his hand away, his gaze heavy as he watched you.

With shaking hands, you reached up, your fingers trembling as they found the button of his trousers. You fumbled for a moment, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers brushing against the zipper, pulling it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. You tugged the fabric down his hips, the trousers falling to his ankles.

Your eyes widened as you saw the large bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers, the outline of him clear, the sight making your breath hitch. Slowly, you reached forward, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, your gaze fixed on him.

His length sprang free, bobbing slightly before settling against his thigh. You couldn't help but stare, taking him in. The veins along his length stood out, thick and prominent, the head flushed a deep pink, glistening slightly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the reality of it sinking in. He was bigger than you remembered, the sheer size of him making your breath catch, your heart pounding even harder.

That... that was inside me...

Your cheeks flushed at the memory, the thought of it making your thighs press together, heat pooling in your belly.

"Sister," Charlie's voice broke through your thoughts, his tone soft but commanding. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze, his dark eyes watching you intently. There was something in his expression, a mixture of desire and tenderness that made your breath catch. "Give me your hand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for only a moment before you extended your hand to him, your fingers trembling slightly. He took it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and you watched as his other hand moved down his chest, his fingers gliding over his smooth skin, tracing the lines of his muscles before finally wrapping around his length.

He let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he began to stroke himself, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction, his lips parted as he sucked in a breath, a shudder running through his body.

The sight made your mouth go dry, your eyes widening as you watched him, unable to look away. After a few seconds, he shuddered your name, his voice rough, needy. "Touch me," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze filled with desire.

You allowed him to guide your hand, wrapping your fingers around him, his own hand covering yours, his grip firm. A low, broken moan left his lips at the contact, his head tilting back slightly, his eyes closing for a moment.

You could feel the warmth of him, the way he twitched in your hand, the weight of him almost overwhelming.

Sitting up on your knees, you moved closer, your other hand resting on his strong thigh to steady yourself. Your thumb unconsciously brushed against his leg, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you focused on holding him in your hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes questioning, unsure of what to do next. Charlie's gaze dropped to meet yours, his thumb reaching out to pull down your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he dipped it into your mouth for a brief moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice almost a whisper. "Open wider," he instructed, his eyes fixed on you. "Drop your tongue, just like you're about to eat a popsicle."

You followed his instructions, your jaw dropping open, your tongue hanging out slightly, your eyes still locked on his. He hummed in approval, guiding your hand up, moving his length towards your awaiting tongue.

The tip of him brushed against your tongue, the taste salty, musky, as he rubbed the head across the surface, letting out an appreciative hum. He did this for a few seconds, his eyes watching every reaction you made, his lips curling into a small smile.

Slowly, he pushed himself further into your mouth, just an inch or two, his breath hitching as he watched you. "Close your lips around it," he murmured, his voice strained. "Suck."

You closed your mouth around him, your lips sealing around the head of his length, your tongue pressing against the underside. He let out a deep groan, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you in place. "Just like that," he whispered, his voice thick hoarse. "That's it... good girl."

You began to suck gently, your cheeks hollowing as you moved your head slightly, taking him in just a bit more. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

His hips jerked slightly, a low moan escaping his lips as he watched you, his eyes dark, filled with lust. He guided you slowly, his hand on the back of your head setting the pace, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment.

"Use your tongue," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Swirl it around the tip... yes, just like that." You did as he instructed, your tongue moving over the sensitive head, and he shuddered, his grip on your hair tightening, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he muttered, his voice strained, his eyes locked on yours.

You continued to move, your hand stroking the base of him as you sucked, your other hand still resting on his thigh, your thumb brushing against his skin in a soothing motion.

His breaths came in short gasps, his chest heaving as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted. He whispered your name, his voice filled with need, his hips rocking slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"You're perfect," he groaned, his head tilting back, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the sensation. "So good... just like that. Don't stop." His words were slurred, his voice thick with pleasure, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him growing stronger as he neared his peak.

His hips began to move more, his breathing turning into short, desperate gasps, his hand guiding you, holding you in place as he chased his release. He muttered your name, his voice breaking, a mixture of moans and whispered praises filling the room as he lost himself to the pleasure.

When he finally came, the taste of him filled your mouth, his hips jerking, a deep groan escaping his lips as he held you there, his fingers tangled in your hair. He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at you, his eyes dark, filled with something raw, something possessive.

Charlie reached down, his hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you up from your knees with a strength that left you breathless. He yanked you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He groaned against your lips, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his kiss deep, consuming. His tongue moved against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled back slightly, licking across your lips before placing a softer, lingering kiss there.

He pulled away, his eyes locking onto yours, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. Without a word, he lifted you, settling you back onto the table, his hands pushing up your habit, his gaze dropping between your legs as he knelt before you once again. "I need to prep you," he murmured, his voice husky, his hands sliding up your thighs.

His fingers reached between your legs, expecting to find the fabric of your underwear, but instead, they came in contact with your soaked folds. He let out a surprised sound, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, a brow raised in question. You released a huff, your cheeks flushing as you looked away, muttering, "It's laundry day..."

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his lips curling into an amused smile. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your knee before his hands moved to push your thighs further apart, the stretch making your muscles burn slightly, the sensation both uncomfortable and thrilling. He held your legs open, his eyes fixed on you, watching your every reaction.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive flesh, a silent gasp falling from your lips, your eyes closing, your head falling back as your back arched off the table.

The feeling of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, made your thighs tremble in his hold, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue moving with purpose, teasing your entrance, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently.

One of his hands moved up, his fingers brushing against your entrance before slowly pushing inside, stretching you, his mouth never stopping, never hesitating. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, every flick of his tongue, every gentle thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm built slowly, a steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Charlie seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss, how to move his fingers to bring you to the brink, his name falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body trembling, your thighs shaking around his head.

But just as you were about to fall over the edge, just as the pleasure was about to consume you, he pulled away.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your eyes opening, a mixture of confusion and need in your gaze as you looked down at him. He stood slowly, his eyes dark, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body aching for release.

Charlie licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached up, his fingers tilting your head back, exposing the line of your neck to him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. His other hand moved to wrap one of your legs around his waist, his fingers digging into your thigh as he held you against him, his body pressed tightly to yours.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Don't worry, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll fill you back up and give you what you need." The words sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching at the promise, a whimper escaping your lips.

Charlie reached between your bodies, his hand wrapping around his length, positioning himself. He rubbed the tip against your clit, the sensation making your body jerk, a gasp falling from your lips.

He moved slowly, dragging the head of his length up and down your slit, teasing you, your body trembling in his arms, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he pushed forward, bullying his way into you, the stretch almost unbearable.

You arched further into his arms, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your body struggling to accommodate him. He let out a deep groan, his fingers tightening on your thigh, his other hand moving to grip your hip, holding you in place as he filled you completely.

His pace was brutal, each stroke long and deep, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, his hips slamming against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low, rough, filled with need. "You... You feel so good... so tight around me," he panted, his words broken by soft moans. "I'm going to fuck you, fill you up until you can't think of anything else."

His hips snapped against yours, his movements rough, desperate, his body pressing you down against the table, his weight holding you in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Imagine it, Sister," he whispered, his voice dark, almost a growl. "A secret child... a product of our sin, of our blasphemy against the church." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your core clenching around him, your body reacting to the forbidden promise, the thought of it pushing you closer to the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing, your back arching as the pleasure consumed you, a silent scream on your lips. You could feel Charlie shudder above you, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in short gasps as he chased his own release.

After a few more brutal strokes, he let out a deep groan, his hips pressing against yours as he came, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin.

He stayed there, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. You could feel his heart pounding against your own, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

You shivered as he began to pull back, the movement making you wince slightly, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure.

His softening length slipped out of you, the feeling making you gasp softly, a mix of relief and emptiness settling in your chest. You felt the warm, sticky sensation as globs of his cum poured out, slowly dripping down your inner thighs.

You began to close your legs, thinking he was done, that he would put his clothes back on, but his hand stopped you, his fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, keeping you open.

Charlie lowered himself to his knees once again, his eyes fixed on you, a dark hunger still present in his gaze. Before you could understand what was happening, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive folds.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue, warm and wet, sliding through your slickness, lapping up the mixture of your release and his own. His groans were sinful, vibrating against you, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the taste.

Your brain raced, unsure of what to do or what to say, your body twitching beneath his touch, your legs instinctively trying to close, still overly sensitive from your previous climax. But Charlie's hands were strong, his grip firm as he held your thighs apart, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you open for him.

He was relentless, his tongue moving with purpose, his lips closing around your swollen clit, sucking gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You could feel the pleasure building again, a slow, steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

You couldn't hold back the soft whimpers and moans that spilled from your lips, your head falling back, your eyes closing as the pleasure consumed you.

When you came, it hit you like a final, blinding wave, your body arching off the table, your thighs trembling in Charlie's hold. A broken cry escaped your lips, your back arching, your eyes squeezed shut.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Your mind was clouded as the pleasure consumed you, the feeling like the flames of damnation licking at your skin. For I am burned by the fire of desire, a sinner in the eyes of heaven.

And you weren't sure if you minded at all.

A/N: ya know, i think my smut has gotten better, what do you guys think??? and to answer the upcoming question(s) i know will be asked: yes, this is the final part, i won't be continuing the 'Devotion' series/making it into a book 😔 i know, i know. i promise i want too, but knowing me, i tend to bounce around/start new projects out of nowhere, so if i didn't spend weeks planning before hand, it'll grow cold eventually, and i don't wanna put you guys through that 😩 but never fret, i will continue writing for father charlie 😝, he's just too versatile not to. see you guys soon ❤️❤️❤️.

[golden-redhead]

You see, the biggest problem with this is that Five HAD a love story all along.

His love for his family has been THE very foundation of the show and what kickstarted the entire chain of events.

He spent 45 years in the apocalyptic wasteland because he loved them too much to give up.

He found them in every possible timeline.

He reversed time for them.

He became an assassin to get a shot, however small, at coming back to them.

He’s been through countless timelines, doing his best to save and protect them in every single one of them.

No matter how dire the situation, he always pushed to find a way to save his family. His devotion was stronger than anything and there was no line he wouldn’t cross for his siblings. No matter how self-destructive the cost, he sacrificed himself again and again just for a chance at reuniting with them and saving the world so they could live.

It was a destructive kind of love, yes, but also inspiring. I think it resonated with many people because love can be intense, we love and want to be loved with this kind of intensity and dedication.

So, to throw it all away for a romantic subplot that no one asked for is not only a huge disservice to Five’s character but also goes against everything he represents. We already knew he’s capable of love and that he loves deeply.

I don’t understand how the showrunner who worked on the series for 5+ years can say that Five had to have an arc like this. It doesn’t make sense. He already had a love story. Arguably, the most beautiful and deepest of them all. He didn’t need more, what he needed was to have it returned and to finally settle down after multiple lifetimes of putting his life on the line to keep his loved ones safe.

To say otherwise means that the writers fundamentally misunderstood what made Five a great character and what fans loved most about the show. It feels like a betrayal, because it is one. It proves that the creators not only misunderstood the core character of the show but also never paid attention to the fandom and its preferences.

There’s a difference between catering to the audience and what they ended up doing, which is a character assassination at its worst. And it’s not just the character who was ruined but also the entire premise of the show, the reason why fans loved it in the first place. There’s no coming back from something like this.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ candy paint, l. norris. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: lando norris is a lot of things: 100% honest is not one of them. good thing you're around to make sure he owns his weaknesses.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lando fic everyone cheer!! finding my footing writing lando's personality (dry asf) but I'll get there lmao day three of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends with benefits, the max mentioned is fewtrell not verstappen, oral (male receiving)protected sex, neither reader nor lando can shut the fuck up.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lando norris x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2k.

"You're kidding, right?" you said into the phone, your voice laced with a hint of skepticism. The rain pattered against the window of your apartment, matching the rhythm of your thoughts. You had just returned from a week-long work trip and were looking forward to a quiet evening in.

Lando's voice was as persistent as the rain outside. "Come on, mate. It's been too long. You know I can't wait." His tone was a blend of playful and demanding, the kind that usually made your heart flutter. But this time, you had to draw a line.

"Lando, seriously," you said, a smirk playing on your lips. "What about your little bet with Max?" The mention of Max's name brought a mischievous glint to your eye. You knew how much he hated losing, especially to his friends.

Lando chuckled, the sound echoing through the line. "I wasn't sticking to the bet anyway. I've got to see you." His voice grew husky with desire, the kind of voice that made your knees wobble and your resolve waver. "I'll come to you."

You hesitated, your eyes narrowing as you considered his plea. The thought of seeing Lando sent a warm shiver down your spine. You could almost feel his strong hands gripping your hips, his breath hot on your neck. "Fine," you relented. "But if you want to come over, I'm telling Max you caved."

"You wouldn't," Lando said with mock horror, and you could almost hear his grin.

"Oh, I absolutely would," you replied, the challenge in your voice unmistakable. "You're the one begging to see me, remember?"

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Lando sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, whatever. I'll be there in twenty."

Twenty minutes later, the sound of the door opening and closing was like music to your ears. You felt the heat of Lando's presence before you even saw him. He was soaking wet from the rain outside, his white t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him. "You look like a drowned rat," you said, standing up from the couch where you had been scrolling through your phone.

"Charming," Lando shot back with a smirk, shaking his wet hair like a dog and spraying droplets across the floor. He stepped closer to you, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the freshness of rain. "But it's worth it if it means I get to see this gorgeous face." He leaned in to kiss you, but you playfully pushed him away. "What, no greeting for the man who braved the storm to see you?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Take off your clothes before you drench the whole place," you said, stepping aside. You watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the defined abdomen and muscular arms that had your knees growing weaker by the second. You made no effort to hide your eyes sweeping over his form as you bit your bottom lip.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving a puddle by the door. "Better?" he asked, a glint in his eye as he moved closer.

"Marginally," you replied, trying to keep your cool. But when Lando's hands reached for your waist, pulling you into his warm embrace, you melted against him. His touch was like a warm blanket on a cold night, comforting and revitalizing all at once.

You kissed with an intensity that spoke of weeks of pent-up longing, your tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, and you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. "You're going to be the end of me," he murmured against your lips.

You pulled away just enough to whisper, "You're the one who couldn't wait." You stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. With a swift motion, you straddled him, your cotton shorts riding up your thighs. Lando's hands roamed up your legs, his thumbs teasing the hem, hinting at what was to come.

Your round brown eyes searched his emerald ones, a silent question lingering between you two. "You sure you're ready to lose?" you asked, your voice low and sultry. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant patter of rain.

Lando's grin was all the answer you needed. "Love, I'd do anything to taste you right now." His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts, and with a quick pull, they were around your ankles. He groaned as he felt the heat of your bare skin against his.

You giggled, a sound that was music to his ears, and leaned back, placing your hands on his shoulders. "Well, you're in luck," you said, your voice dripping with seduction. "Because I'm feeling quite generous."

Without breaking eye contact, Lando reached for the waistband of his sweats pulling it down with a slow, deliberate movement. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but gasp. He was always so beautifully aroused, so ready for you. You slid your hand over it, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

He groaned, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open again. "Don't tease me," he warned, his voice strained.

"Who's teasing?" you said, your smile wicked. You kneeled off the couch, your soft dark curls brushing against his chest, and took him in your mouth. Lando's grip tightened on the couch cushions, his body arching off the cushions with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe," he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Your mouth was warm and wet, moving over him with the kind of expertise that only came from knowing someone's body intimately. You took him deep, your tongue swirling around the head before pulling back to tease the sensitive underside. You knew every inch of him, every spot that made him squirm, and every spot that made him beg.

You felt a rush of power, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you watched Lando's reaction. You loved the way he lost control around you, the way his cocky exterior crumbled to reveal the desperate need beneath. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper each time, until you felt his thighs tense and his hips jerk upwards.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding your movements. "I can't wait anymore." He pulled you off him, his eyes dark with need. "Get on top," he said, his voice a gruff command.

Your heart raced as you straddled him, your own desire matching his. You watched as he reached into the pocket of his sweats, retrieving a condom he casually slid over his length. Then you felt him at your entrance, his fingers eagerly pushing your panties to the side, and with a little wiggle, you sank down, enveloping him in your warmth. Lando's eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, a sweet ache that you had missed.

You found your rhythm quickly, your bodies moving together as if you had been practicing this dance your whole life. Lando's hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips as you rode him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons of pressure as you rose and fell. Each time you took him in, you felt like you were claiming a piece of him, a piece that was yours and yours alone.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a testament to your passion. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against Lando's chest, and whispered, "Couldn't even go two weeks, could you?" Your voice was teasing, but it held an underlying satisfaction. You knew you had the power to make him break his bet.

"Fuck the bet," Lando groaned, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "You're all I need." His words were punctuated by his hips bucking upwards, pushing into you with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. The room grew hotter, the scent of your desire mixing with the dampness from the rain outside.

Your movements grew more frantic, their breaths mingling in the air. The couch creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion. You felt yourself getting closer, your inner muscles tightening around him. Lando's grip on your hips grew firmer, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Come for me," he urged, his eyes burning into yours. "Let go, baby."

You threw your head back, your dark curls bouncing off your shoulders as you picked up your pace. The sensations grew more intense, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Lando's hands moved from your hips to your breasts, his hands squeezing at the bouncing flesh before leaning down to bring his mouth to the peaks. You gasped, the pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"Yes, just like that," you moaned, your voice a little raspy. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar coil tightening in your belly. You leaned into him, your movements becoming erratic as you chased the feeling.

Lando could feel you tightening around him, your breath coming in short gasps. He knew you were close, and it was his undoing. He thrust upwards, his own release building. "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes meeting yours, silently pleading for you to let go.

With a cry, you did. Your orgasm washed over you, making your body convulse. You felt him swell inside you, his own climax following closely behind. You held onto each other tightly, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony until the waves of pleasure subsided.

For a moment, you stayed just like that, panting and sweaty, your hearts hammering in your chests. Then, Lando leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips that spoke of affection and satisfaction. He pulled out of you with a soft groan, and you felt a twinge of loss. But the warmth of his body remained, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low rumble that made your skin prickle. You leaned into the embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. This was your thing, your little slice of heaven, left uncomplicated despite your close friendship.

You lay there for a while, your bodies entwined and your breaths slowing. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, lulling you into a state of post-coital bliss. It was moments like these that made the world seem to stop spinning, where the only thing that mattered was the warmth of each other's skin and the sound of your hearts beating in unison.

You leaned back and looked into his green eyes, the corners of your mouth curling up in a knowing smile. "So," you began, "Are you going to man up and text Max now, or should I?"

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the couch cushion. "You're enjoying this way too much," he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

"I like seeing you squirm," you replied, your voice light and playful. You reached for your phone on the coffee table, your eyes gleaming with mischief. You knew Lando was competitive to a fault and losing was not something he took kindly to, especially not when it came to something as serious as a bet with Max.

Lando's eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you type away, his arms still around your waist. "Don't be too detailed," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly.

You glanced up at him, your smile widening. "Oh, I won't," you said sweetly, sending the text. "But he's going to know you didn't last five minutes."

Lando's eyes shot open. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did," you said with a laugh, the sound like a melody in the quiet room. "And you know what?"

He tugged on your hair gently, bringing you closer. "What?"

"It was worth it," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "Every single second."

You kissed him softly, your tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. Lando's eyes closed, savoring the moment, his arms tightening around you. He knew you were right, that the thrill of being with you was worth any bet.