#Parts II and III are coming up soon

[theflyindutchwoman]

+ Bonus

| LUCY'S MOONSTONE RING™️   PART I  -  Chenford Edition   PART II  •  PART III

[eupheme]

— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happy to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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[ohproserpine]

˚୨୧₊♱ deer dolly ao3 link

♱; All characters featured in this story belong to VivziePop. This story is a deviation from the canon material. | update: taglist full :(( | my playlist!

MAINSERIES

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v. | part vi. | part vii. | part viii. | part ix. ...more coming soon!

SPIN-OFFS/ONESHOTS

patching him up + making him jealous on purpose

ART

by me! -> dolly I by @shizukaay0 -> dolly I . dolly II . see more on their acc!

ASKS

jessicarabbit drabble + voiceclaim | character inspo | deep dive into dolly's mind

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v;

word count: 8k

part ii; part iii; part iv; part v; part vi; part vii (finale)

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between Kooks and Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever. 

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, driven by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie.

Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile and stupid against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of the Cameron's. Ward Cameron, the man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. Because in his sick twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Great.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly checked your options but there weren't many. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to lose your shit. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face. 

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking. 

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit. Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch.

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he walked towards you.

You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that settled in your bones. It felt like you were being hunted.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at any given moment.

You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. You were always a litte too good for your own good.

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again. 

His laugh was bitter, like you were trying to humor him,"You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“ 

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but all you felt was fear.

The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. 

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming.

Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body burning with desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.” 

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting.

His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the way you’d felt.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had.

If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you. 

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!” 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would care. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you were a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently.

Your brother would probably assume you were dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean mocked you from beyond.

The days melded into one another, marked only by the delivery of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some clarity, some hint of what your future looked like, but his visits offered nothing but insults or complete silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention. 

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward announced, "We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. You knew he enjoyed watching people squirm around like worthless worms.

"Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The answer was very clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, that stupid frown always attached to his face.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. You were a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists. 

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you. 

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't ignore the feeling of impending doom. Were you going to die there? In between pristine beaches and swaying palm trees?

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you there was still a slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. Eventually.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, watching their prey.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman. 

“This will be your home for the time being" Ward said it like he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. A lunatic.

You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile and there was little fight left in you from how tired you'd been feeling.

“Rafe will be keeping you company."

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration.

Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a reminder of the power he had over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father. 

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face, like this was your fault and not theirs.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," You hissed, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.” 

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to.

He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You knew he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him. 

"Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

He only started at you, eyes bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again.

You had to get out. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation.

You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department. 

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit. 

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine.

Rafe's visits, Ward's passive aggressive threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward.

You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently.

Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother. 

You couldn't help but feel a little pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.  It was easy to spot the cracks in his armor if you spent enough time in the same room, the secretive moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence.

It gave you whiplash. 

You began to argue less with him, your animosity giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask. 

His eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. At this point he just sounded tired. 

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find.

"You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone. 

Again. 

The days continued to pass, but something changed. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for him too.

You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act. 

Another day began with the same oppressive humid heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had that day. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. Very healthy.

He stood with his back to you, staring out the window. 

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet. 

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, wondering if it was some kind of trick question.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him. 

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

"Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his unresolved inner conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It was heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”.

"Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

“It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.” 

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad. 

"We always have a choice," you countered, "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly.

Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was because of your last conversation or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle.

Still, every interaction seemed to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing little glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air is still, the only sound is the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You have been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house is quiet, Ward is gone and you haven’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you know how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork. 

You can it. 

This is your chance, and you can’t afford to waste it.

You move silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seems to echo in the stillness, and you hold your breath, praying you won’t get caught.

Your heart races as you slowly turn the handle of the front door, wincing at the faint click that accompanies the action. Once outside, you glance around, ensuring the coast is clear, then make your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach.

The plan is simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You keep low, moving quickly but cautiously, like a cat. The boat is within reach when a noise behind you makes your blood run cold. 

The crunch of gravel underfoot is unmistakable.

You turn sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerges from the shadows. The asshole who got you here in the first place. He’s closer than you had anticipated.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline moving through your veins as you break into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouts, his voice carrying across the trees. You don’t dare to look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You feel a searing pain in your arm, but you can’t stop. You push through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rings out, but you are too focused to notice where it lands. You reach the boat, hands trembling as you fumble with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensifies, but you force yourself to keep moving, when suddenly, a heavy hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around.

You struggle, kicking and thrashing, but he’s stronger. He pulls you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioes for backup. It feels all to familiar. You hate very second of it.

"Got her," he says into the radio, his terrible breath hot against your ear. You try to wriggle free, but his grip only tightens. Moments later, two more guards arrive, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The sting in your arm is painful reminder of your failed attempt as they pull you inside, your brief taste of freedom slipping away. You were so fucking close.

Moments feel like hours as you sit in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. They didn't even try to stop the bleeding.

The quiet murmurs of the guards outside are interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flies open, and there stands Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barks. His gaze scans the room, landing on you. 

The sight of the blood staining your arm makes his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He storms towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he all but demands.

Before you could answer, he whirls around to face the guards who re-enters the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouts, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchange nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammers out. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twists with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice drips with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who caught you tries to explain, but Rafe cuts him off.

“Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turns back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he takes in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain is making you delirious.

 “We need to get that cleaned up,” he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holsters his gun and gently takes your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards look on, unsure of what to do or say. 

Rafe shoots them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snaps. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men leave, Rafe's demeanor changes. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, making younguer, hardens back into anger. He runs a hand through his long hair, pacing the small room before finally stopping in front of you.

He looks pissed.

He sneers at you, his voice dripping with exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spats out, practically screaming in your face, "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You try to speak, to defend yourself, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His words come fast, "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

The monologue doesn't stop there.

His fists clench at his sides, "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stops himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to control his temper while he paces around th room, unable to stay put, "You're just reckless," he continues, his voice quieter but still seething, "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

What?

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you call after him, your voice trembling. You don't know if it's the pain or the weird pull in your stomach making you feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

He stops in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you,"I don't," he retorts, "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You take a step towards him, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, not buying his bullshit speech.

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," his voice is dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose.

“Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twists showcasing his wrath, and he takes a step towards you, closing the distance.

"Shut up!” he growls. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shoot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He takes another step, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching.

“I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gives you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his pretty features contorted. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts. His hands come up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hisses, like the snake he is.

"And you’re a coward.”

The next moment happens without much thinking. Without any thinking, really.

Rafe’s grip tightens, fingers didding into your skin and before you can process what is happening, his lips crash into yours with a ferocity that you never saw coming. His mouth is demanding, almost punishing, and you, like an idiot, kiss him back, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you want to push him away.

The kiss is all rough and desperate, there's only room for anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. You should know better.

And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there is a stupid spark—as if you are both too messed up to understand how much you need each other. Each fingertip of his leaves an imprint wherever he touches, a silent declaration of the strength he’s restraining. And some sick twisted part of you finds that attractive.

It’s like he’s fighting to contain this fury within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. But you want it.

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… 

All you want are his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roam slowly over your lower back, over your waist again. You breathe out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pull him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes. And while you grew up hating that particular combination, it worked on him.

He pulls away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinks down at you. You watch him lick his bottom lip, swollen, wet with both of your spits, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His blue eyes flare with renewed anger, turning almost black—something darker, more primal. Your words are like a match to gasoline. He doesn’t answer verbally; instead, he takes a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift motion, Rafe carries you to the dining table, and you barely have time to register the cool wood against your back before he’s on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matches your own. There’s no tenderness there, only raw need.

He pries your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kisses you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers grip your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation flutters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he presses flush against your center.

His hands move with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. Your hands tangle in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepens. Everything around you fades into background noise as the room spins, his body so close making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips.

You tug at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just can’t wait. He lets out a deep, sexy growl that makes a shiver run down your spine. His hands are all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they go. It feels like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way he hadn't before.

"You're impossible," he mutters against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leans down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you are amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round.

"And you’re an asshole,” your voice comes out breathless.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you reply, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back on you, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you don’t want control. You want to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you've been through and just feel. Live a little and forget about your problems.

Rafe seems to sense it, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifts you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction is exquisite, a delicious tease that leaves you wanting even more.

"Rafe," you breathe, and he almost falls to his knees at the soft whimper that leaves your lips, unable to stop the jerk of his hips forward.

He responds instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kisses you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. The table creakes under your combined weight, but neither of you care. Your hand grab his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There’s a wildness there, and for the first time in your life, you like it.

You reach up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the grown out stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, leaves a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slips from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth graze your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you pants, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tighten around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. 

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat.

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You open your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you are the one in charge, but the intention dies the moment Rafe cups you through your shorts.

A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat.

Heat blooms in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that floods your skin and leaves you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierce into yours, watching as he presses the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your pussy and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asks, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.”

He moves your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel him touch you for the first time. You can't think properly while he's doing this. Your brain feels to mushy to form a proper sentence.

“Yeah, thought so.” 

All that matters is the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whisper again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that has fueled you for so long.

But even as you say it, you know it’s was a lie. Partly.

You hate how much you need him right now, how much you crave his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’ve been locked away from society for too long. That’s the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirks, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"No, you don’t.” 

You do. At least you used to, everything is confusing now.

He teases you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that makes your heart race.

You bite back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need is so overwhelming, you nearly give in.

“Fuck you," you spit out, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes your hips buck against his hand. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

"That's right," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escapes your lips, and you arch into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers move expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that makes you breathless. Every touch, every stroke is designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you are nothing but a trembling, pleading mess. You hate that he's so good.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasp, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "P-Please, I need you."

You'd be embarrassed later.

His smirk widens, and he pulls his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He doesn’t make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he frees himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water. 

Without a word, he positions himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance.

"You ready for me?"

You nod, your eyes locking with his, "Please.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. The sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you cry out. Your back arches involuntarily, your lips parting as he enters you, filling you completely in a way you have never imagined.

He rolls his hips firmly against yours, and your head tips back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You never felt so full. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath, giving you another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm.

His movements are hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. Not that you want slow.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaks and groans beneath you, but you don’t care.

All that matters is the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering hips. His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You can feel him losing control, his need matching your own. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can pretend you aren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growls, his voice all rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really want to shut him out, you just can’t fight the crazy pull he has over you. His voice is like a force of nature. You open your eyes against your better judgment.

Seeing him above you, his face twisting with raw need and determination sends chills down your spine. His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with this unyielding intensity you never seen before and that leaves you breathless. No one had ever looked at you like that during sex.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. It makes you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck. Y-You're sucking me in so nicely, huh?"

With each thrust, he drives you closer to your orgasm, your body responding to him in ways you can’t hold back. The pleasure is overwhelming, it leaves you gasping, moaning, begging for more. You don't even know what you're doing anymore. His name slips from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answers with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world has narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

"Rafe," you whimper, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm—I can't..."

He understands.

His pace quickens even more, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commands his voice a whisper against your earlobe that sends shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words push you over the edge, and you come with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release is like nothing you ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that makes you lose it. So this was what great sex felt like?

Rafe follows you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that leaves him shaking on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rides out his orgasm, groaning as his movements slow down, until he finally stills, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there is something almost tender about him.

“Y-You—“ He sighs, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

“Rafe...“

Before you can process his words, before you can question or argue, his lips are on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle. 

Devastating almost. 

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Right. He'd fucked you good enough to forget about the pain. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporates, leaving you with the realization of your situation.

You just fucked Rafe Cameron. On a table. After being shot.

You push at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hiss through clenched teeth, “Then do something about it."

He just stands there, staring at you as if he has never seen you before. As if he’s truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hate every second of it because your heart is practically leaping out of your chest.

No one has ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shakes his head, coming closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needs to ensure that you are real, that everything’s real.

“We’re getting out.”

You want to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it’s the only thing that matters. Even if it sounds stupid. You need it, at least for now.

“Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass."｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, Bullying

Color indicator: Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

Another dull morning, you think to yourself, rolling over to turn off your alarm. You pick up your cellphone and blearily swipe your screen as you clamber out of bed. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you really didn’t notice anything was wrong until you stood up and looked in the mirror. You blink, poking at you face and staring where your reflection should be, but isn’t. You wave your hand in front of the mirror. Nothing.

You look around, only to realize that your surroundings are different, too. The room you’re in is plain, cramped, and completely devoid of character. It’s almost liminal, in a way. Eerie in its emptiness. 

You need to get out of here. 

You nervously reach for the door and twist the handle. The doornob moves with you, but the door remains fixed in place. Your phone buzzes, and you fish it out of your pocket, quickly turning it on. You’ve gotten a text, but the number is blank.

You have not chosen an avatar yet. Please choose one from the mirror before leaving your room.

Well, that woke you right up. Is someone watching you? You swerve your head around, checking the ceilings and corners for cameras. You try the door again. You go in circles, turning the whole room upside down. You try the door. Nothing. You check your phone. The same message appears as soon as you open it. You swipe it away out of habit, but it refuses to budge. Freaky. The time hasn’t changed since you woke up, either, though you’re sure you’ve been at it for more than fifteen minutes by now.

You decide to take a peek at the mirror again. You try to remove it from the wall to look behind, but your vision goes white the second you make contact with its’ surface. Your vision clears, and in front of you is a grey figure of ambiguous gender. It looks almost made of clay. Your phone buzzes.

Player avatar selection. 

Select a sex. Sex cannot be changed after starting the game.

1.) Male 2.) Female 3.) Hermaphrodite

Well, you’ve either fallen asleep or been drugged. Not knowing what else to do, you choose female, watching in horror and fascination as the figure morphs to accommodate your choice. 

>Next

Other customization options soon come up. You give the figure your ideal height, weight, and features. You change her skin tone, hair color, texture, and eye color. You watch as she slowly comes to life as your ideal. The person you’ve always wanted to be. 

Your phone buzzes just as you finish touching her up.

Set Name

You’re about to name her when the text fills itself in with your name instead.

Welcome, [First]! 1. Start Game!

You grimace, and hit play.

—————————

When you come to, it’s 07:00 again, and you’re still in that room. You glance at the mirror, only to see your avatar glancing back. You wave your arm in front of it, and she mimics your movements perfectly. You make a lewd gesture, and she does, too. Creepy. Is this really a dream? You’re startled out of your thoughts as your phone buzzes once again.

Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity!

If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. 

The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

1. Next

Your face pales as you read the text. There’s no way. You hit next, reminding yourself that you’re only in a dream, and that no one can harm you in a dream. Your phone opens to its home screen, where you see various apps, some of which are labled.

-Characteristics -Social -Traits -Journal -Stats -Feats

You open characteristics and take a look. At the very top is a color chart indicator. description of your body’s appearance and condition, underneath are familiar stats.

Purity: 7/7 You are angelic. Physique: 3/6 Your body is average. Willpower: 1/6 You are fainthearted. Awareness: 3/7 You have a normal understanding of sexuality. Promiscuity: 0/6 You are chaste and pure.  Exhibitionism: 0/6 You are coy. Deviancy: 0/6 You are squeamish.

Everything seems to be in line with the stats for the beginning of a playthrough. Everything except one.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure.

That’s…not good, if the blaring red is anything to go off of, anyway. 

You scroll down. Your skills are all ranked as F, which is actually better than the “None” stat they usually start as. That’s weird, but you aren’t complaining. Your sex skills, however…are all at C. That’s super weird! You aren’t sure what to make of it, so you choose to ignore it instead. 

Your overall school performance is terrible, with F’s all around the board. In real life, this would mean you’d picked the athlete trait, but your physique is baseline, and your athletic stat is also at F, so it can’t be that. It must just be inconsistencies from being asleep, you reason. That’s why your stats are all over the place.

Your status is normal, aside from your allure. Which is maxed out at “You look like you need to be ravaged.” You shudder.

You check traits. You have two.

Alien - You aren’t from around here! RPG like elements have been incorporated into your reality for a smoother experience.  Virgin - Your purity recovers faster. Your virginity might be worth something.

You open your journal. 

It is the 4th of September, 2022.

-It has been 0 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term starts on Monday the 5th of September.

Current quests:

Visit Bailey in his office by 20:00 tonight to recover your ID documents and gain your independence.

Failure to complete quest will result in the day restarting

You turn your phone off and look around. Everything seems normal, too normal. You read somewhere once that it’s impossible (or perhaps just very difficult) to read clearly while in a dream. Could you have been drugged? Or did you take something and then forget about it?

You pinch yourself. Ow.

Well, that’s not solid proof. People have reported cases of feeling pain in dreams before it’s just kind of really rare is all. Or, or! Maybe you’re not dreaming. Maybe you’re dying. Maybe you got into an accident somewhere, and now you’re in a coma. People hallucinate during comas, don’t they? 

You pinch yourself, again. 

It’s not real.

…You might as well see what this quest is about.

You leave your bedroom, and walk to Bailey’s office. You don’t question how you know the way there. You knock on the door and enter. 

“I know why you’re here,” he says. “You want me to release you from my protection, so you’ll be an independent citizen. I could do that. But there’s a problem. You’ve been living under my roof without giving anything in return. You owe me. Until you pay me back, I’m not letting you go.” He picks up an envelope and flips through it. Dozens of identification documents are stored within it. One of them is yours. “£100 should do. To start with. I don’t care how you get it. Knock on doors and ask for work. Rent yourself as a footstool. Steal it, even. Just have it a week from now. Or I’ll find a way to extract value from you.”

You nod and leave his office, returning to your room.

Your phone buzzes as soon as you close the door. 

Quest completed. New quest added to journal. View Now? 

Y/N

You hit yes. 

Time-Sensitive:

Bailey wants £100 on Sunday. Find a job and free yourself from his clutches. 

That’s great and all, but maybe you shouldn’t leave the orphanage today…or ever. Not until you wake up. You decide to just download some social media apps and scroll for the rest of the day instead. You scroll until midday, when you’re stopped by your stomach growling. Can you get hungry inside a dream…? You feel uneasy as you climb off the bed. Your neck hurts from the uncomfortable position you had been in, but that’s the least of your worries right now. 

You leave your bedroom and enter the main hall. A trim girl happens to be passing by your door, so you stop her and ask about when lunch is. She looks at you strangely. 

“Whenever you want…? Just go somewhere and get it. I don’t know.” 

“I meant here, can we get food here?” 

“Sure, if you’re underage. We have to provide for ourselves once we reach eighteen, though. You know that. Everyone knows that.” She leaves in a hurry. You go back to your room to watch “Gootube” videos. It’s not as pornographic as it sounds. 

You stay on your phone for the rest of the day. It never seems to run out of charge. Finally, you turn it off and climb under the covers. You don’t bother to wear pajamas. You sleep soundly, and wake up at 07:00 on Sunday, September 4th. 

Wait, what? 

You look at your journal again. 

Journal 

It is the 4th of September, 2022.

-It has been 0 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term starts on Monday the 5th of September.

Current quests:

Visit Bailey in his office by 20:00 tonight to recover your ID documents and gain your independence. Failure to complete quest will result in the day restarting

But you didn’t fail your quest! You completed it and…

It’s because you didn’t get a job yesterday, isn’t it? 

You sigh and climb out of bed. Off to visit Bailey again. 

“I know why you’re here,” he says. God, you wish you could skip dialogue in real life. Or in dreams, you guess. Bailey wraps up his speech and you leave, this time heading outside the orphanage to look for work right after. 

As expected, you bump into someone almost immediately. A voluptuous woman grabs you. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve seen all week!” She says, lunging for your clothes. You step back, but she catches you, lifting your sundress’s skirt and revealing your lace panties. You try to grab her hand and pull it away, but she’s stronger than you. She pushes you to the ground, and you land painfully on the sidewalk. You let out an involuntary yelp as your elbows scrape on the pavement. Is she really going to try and molest you out in public like this? It would appear so, as she’s currently straddling your legs with her knees, keeping them apart. You come to your senses when you feel a hand on your groin, and scream out for help. 

A taut man comes to your rescue, chasing off the woman and helping you to your feet. He treats your wounds and gives you a pepper spray charge. You thank him and go on your way. 

The dog pound is probably the best place to start with, you think to yourself while looking at the map on your phone. So you hop on a bus and wait for your stop, but not before a thin man sits next to you and rests his hand on your thigh. You shuffle away from him, and he follows you. You stand up, and he does, too. No one else is paying attention. You quickly walk to the most crowded area of the bus and sit next to a plush woman. She doesn’t look happy, but doesn’t say anything, either. The thin man watches you from his seat. You reach your destination, and he moves to follow you when you stand. Luckily, a tall man stops him, giving you a thumbs up as he blocks the thin man’s view of you. You give him a grateful nod and step off. 

Your shift at the dogpound goes on without incident. Thugh the employees tried to get handsy more than a few times, they never took it further when you moved away. You even took your lunch break at the nearby cafe! You’re surprised by how much character the place had visually, considering it comes from a text-based game.

By the time the dog pound closes, it’s nighttime. You pale at the realization. It’s nighttime, and you’re in Degrees of Lewdity. Should you risk taking the bus? Or should you risk the streets? 

If you’re on a bus, you’re there for less time, but it’s an enclosed space. If you’re outside, there’s more places to run and hide. But hiding goes both ways. 

You elect to go through the streets, sticking to the places that are the most open and well-lit. You get home without incident, though you swear you saw something in the alleys. 

You collapse into bed and sleep for ten hours. 

—————————

It’s 07:03 when you wake up. You have school today, so you look through your wardrobe for your uniform. You find it, but…why is it so skimpy? Sheer tights, short plaid skirt, tight shirt, platform mary janes and loose socks. You put it on, but the shirt is so tight it won’t button all the way, leaving a sizable amount of your cleavage and lace bra visible. 

Speaking of which, aren’t you only supposed to start with plain underwear? Why is all of yours lace? And why does it clasp at the front? You spend twenty minutes looking for a jacket, different shirt, or other way to cover yourself, but find nothing. Bailey bangs on the doors around the orphanage to wake the orphans up. You sigh and put your clothes back into your wardrobe before leaving.

You bump into Robin on your way out. Literally. He nearly runs you over.

“Hey!” He says running towards you. He doesn’t slow down in time and plows right into you. You help him up. “Thanks,” he says, looking a bit bashful. “I didn’t see you yesterday. Remember, you can visit me in my room anytime you want. I have something to show you. I’m so excited!” He runs off, and you realize you’ve forgotten your backpack, so you head back in and find it. It takes you another ten minutes to realize you’d put it behind the door. By the time you’re ready, it’s already half an hour past seven. You decide to see if Robin is still in his room. 

You knock, and hear some crashing. Before you can ask if something’s wrong, Robin opens the door and hugs you. “Look,” he says, pulling you inside. Your eyes immediately land on the shiny new game console in the corner of the room. “I’ve been saving up,” he says. “What are you waiting for?” He pats the bed beside him and you hop on. You watch him play for a few minutes, and the two of you walk to school together. 

Though it’s literally your first time meeting him, you feel safer around Robin. Though you know he can’t fight to protect you, having someone by your side does a lot to ease the mind. Plus, he’s one of the only decent people in the game. You’re glad, but at the same time, you’re uneasy. You wonder if he notices you’re not his childhood friend. That you look like her, sound like her, but you aren’t her. You wonder if he’d hate you, should he find out.

“Is something wrong, [First]?” You snap to attention. 

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. I’m okay,” you say. “I was just kind of busy yesterday, came home exhausted but couldn’t sleep, you know how it is.” You wave your hand dismissively at him as you pass the school gates. “Where are you heading? I’d like to go with you, if that’s alright. Since I didn’t see you yesterday, and all.” Really, you just don’t want to be alone here. But there’s no need to say that. 

Robin smiles, and the two of you hang out in the rear courtyard. It’s nice, but you can feel him glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking. It makes you uncomfortable. Has he caught on? You excuse yourself and head to the library. Maybe you should acquaint yourself with the other non-crazy person on campus. At least you won’t have to lie about your identity to Sydney. 

You walk over to the counter near the back of the library. A tall boy with a strawberry blonde ponytail and glasses is stamping books behind it. You smile as you approach him. “Good morning…” He says, yawning. “First time at the rental counter? You can rent out one book at a ti-” Sydney yawns.. “Time. You can also buy school-approved clothes here. Headmaster Leighton’s marked the prices way up, though. Students with a good record get special discounts.” He seems excited, though you can’t place why. 

“Books can be rented out for two weeks at a time. You can renew your rental at any time…” He looks down. You look down. Sydney has stamped his hand. You smile.”...Let’s call that a demonstration of what happens if you return a late or damaged book. My name’s Sydney, by the way! Pleased to meet you.” 

“I’m [First],” you respond. You and Sydney spend some time chatting. You notice that he’s oddly red. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask, raising a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up! Let’s get you to the infirmary!” 

“W-what? No, I’m okay…” 

“No, you’re not,” you say, pulling him up by the forearm. You drag him to the infirmary, and he has to bend down to allow it. No one pays you much mind, though you’re sure you look a little silly, holding onto the forearm of someone much taller than you. You reach the nurse, who informs you that Sydney is perfectly healthy, though tells him to take a rest on one of the beds upon seeing the bags under his eyes.

“See?” He says, smiling. “I didn’t realize you were such a worrier.” You flush, embarrassed. Is pure Sydney supposed to tease people? His face softens. “Thanks…for worrying about me, though” he says, then checks the time. “You should probably get to class.” Right, you’d nearly forgotten you were at school. You thank Sydney for reminding you and leave as he waves you off.

You go to your science lesson. Despite your grade being at F, the lesson is actually pretty easy to follow, some of this you remember from your own highschool lessons. The bell rings and you leave the classroom, only to get shoved into a locker immediately. A boy with blonde hair covering one eye looms over you. You recognize him immediately. 

“Don’t get in my way again,” Whitney says, pressing his knee against your crotch. “Or I’ll put you in your place.” He releases you, but you know that won’t be the end of it. You hurry to math class, hoping Whitney will skip today. You’re tense for the first twenty minutes of class, but slowly begin to relax upon realizing Whitney probably isn’t going to show up. Nearly half an hour into class, the teacher River steps out for a moment. And with the kind of timing you’d only see in movies, Whitney waltzes in, his jacket thrown over his shoulder. You try to look away, but it’s too late. Whitney makes eye contact with you and grins. He walks over to the mousy girl sitting next to you. 

“Move,” he says. She does. You turn away from him, but he grabs your hair, forcing you to look at him.

This is unfair, you think to yourself. Whitney isn’t supposed to sit next to you unless you’re dating. Why now?

“Watcha lookin at, slut?”

This sucks. You want to go home. When is this dream supposed to end? 

Whitney tugs at your hair even harder. “I asked you a question, slut.”

How did you even get here in the first place? Did you really die? Were you in a coma? Whitney yanks your hair back so hard your body goes with it, creating an awful screeching sound as your chair lurches back. River walks in just in time to see you fall on your back. Whitney is sent out. He turns to make a penetration sign with his hands at you as he leaves. 

Math ends, and you head to English. There’s a crowd of students blocking your path. You peer over shoulders and heads to see the source of the commotion, and see a dark haired student on the ground, with two bullies standing over him. Your first instinct is Kylar, but you must be wrong. Kylar’s event shouldn’t happen until a week from now. 

You could try to help, but that would probably get you assaulted. Even if you didn’t, your fellow students would think less of you, leading you to getting picked on later, and potentially assaulted more and–

Fuck it, you can’t ignore this. You’re already shoving past students and blocking the bullies’ view of the student. “Leave him alone,” you say. “I won’t stand for this.” One of the bullies, a thin girl, shoves you down. 

“Sit, then!” She says, the audience laughs. You pick yourself up and ram into the thin girl and her friend. You knock her off-balance and she falls to the floor, screaming as soon as she lands. “You stupid bitch! You broke my tailbone!” The audience is laughing at her, now. Her friend is helping her up. “I’ll get you for this! Mark my fucking words!” You shiver. Hopefully no one notices. You turn to check on the boy they were harassing, only to nearly bump heads with him. You jump back, and the boy smiles apologetically. There’s something else in his expression, but before you can figure out what it was, you make eye contact with him, and the whole world goes dark.

Tousled black hair, short stature, sickly pale skin and the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. It’s Kylar. It has to be. “T-thanks,” he says. “I-I’m Kylar.” Your face drops, but you aren’t sure if he saw it before running off. The tips of his ears are red, you notice. You step towards the crowd, which is already dispersing. The remaining onlookers make way for you, though you feel a hand grope your butt as you leave. You turn, but no one’s there. 

You head into English class, already exhausted. Kylar watches you from the back. You ignore him. The plump boy sitting behind you sniffs your hair during the entirety of the lesson, so it’s hard to focus. You look down at your notes. It’s an unintelligible mess. Is this what it means to have a grade F in English, you wonder?

Finally, it’s lunch time. You head to the cafeteria, passing by the headmaster on your way there. You swear you saw him checking you out. You shudder and speed up. Upon reaching the canteen, you are presented with three options.

Robin is talking with some students at his table, they seem to be arguing.

Sydney is sitting alone, several piles of books surrounding him. 

Kylar is also alone, stabbing at his food with more violence than seems neccesary.  

Despite your self preservation instincts, you walk towards Robin to see what the commotion is. The lean boy is accusing Robin of ‘looking at him with disrespect’. Arguing with him would be pointless. So you do the next best thing and smile as you spit in his face. 

As expected, he doesn’t take it well, and pounces on you immediately. He tears open your shirt, leaving you only marginally more exposed than you already were. You scream loudly, and Leighton rushes in. You suppress a smirk.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” He shouts, pushing past students to find you exposed on the ground, the lean boy holding you down. He scrambles off of you, and you fix your uniform. The lean boy tries to explain, but Leighton cuts him off and sends him out. Robin helps you up. 

“Are you okay?! Why did you do that?” 

“I saw Leighton on the way over here. I figured if we caused a scene, he’d be the one to get in trouble for it.”

“Don’t do something like that again! That was really dangerous!” You nod, though you don’t really mean it. 

Kylar watches from across the canteen. +Jealousy

The rest of lunch passes without incident and you go to History with Robin. The two of you chat about his game before class starts. You learn some interesting things about the history of the town. Nothing happens during history, and you leave feeling refreshed. You navigate the halls to your swimming lesson and change. You keep your eyes down, but swear you feel the stares of your classmates. You think you hear a camera go off, but when you turn, no one’s looking at you. 

A taut boy follows you around the pool, and doesn’t stop trailing until the lesson is over. He keeps his distance, but it still makes you feel uneasy. The bell rings, and you don’t see him again. 

You meet up with Robin in the courtyard, but hesitate walking home when you see Whitney hanging out by the gate.

“Can we go out through the back?”

“The back? Why?” You nod your head towards Whitney and his friends, and Robin makes an ‘O’ with his mouth. “I don’t mind, but how will we get out?” You’re about to answer when a realization hits you. Right. You haven’t unlocked the tunnel outside yet, which means you can’t leave unless you climb the fence. 

“...Nevermind,” you say. “Maybe they won’t notice us.” You and Robin try to blend in with the crowd, but a hand on your shoulder quickly yanks you into the open.

“Hold it, slut.” Shit. “You didn’t pay the toll.”

You grit your teeth. “What’s the toll?” Whatever, you have twenty quid to spare.

“Flash us your tits.” There’s a crowd circling around you. You notice people pulling out their phones. 

“[First]...” 

“It’s fine, Robin.” You give him a strained smile as you unbutton your blouse. “Happy?” You ask, turning back to Whitney. 

“Not quite,” he says, grabbing the front of your bra and unclasping the hook. Your breasts flop out. “There. That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” You turn and quickly fix your bra, wishing it clasped at the back instead of the front like a normal bra. You and Robin speed away, then find a secluded ally to fix your shirt.

Finally home, you decide to check out some of the apps you didn’t bother with yesterday.

Social              

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

Primary relationships: 

Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.           Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40%

You smile. It’s little different than the starting relationship in the actual game, but you’re slowly getting used to the inconsistencies. You’re about to look at the next box when your eyes are drawn back up to the pink text. Wait a minute, doesn’t that mean bad? You check the color chart to make sure.

But, why? Why is that bad? Isn’t it good? Or, is it because his confidence is low? Maybe the key word here is “wants”. Still, wouldn’t that count more as poor than bad? Whatever, no need to nitpick. You’ll check back in on it later. You move on.

…You almost move on. Why is his love so high? And his lust, too?! It’s gotta be a glitch, right? Right?

Right. You restart your phone and boot it back up. Nothing’s changed. You put that aside for now.

Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100%

Another different one. Also bad. Terrible, even. You aren’t even sure what to make of it. You just met him, and his lust is already maxed out. His love is also surprisingly high, though only half as much as Robin’s is. You make a mental note to sit in view of the teacher during math going forward.

Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90%

Another case of inexplicably high stats right off the bat, though you aren’t surprised with Kylar. You move on.

Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66%

Okay, you’re pretty sure those are all just angel numbers. Or, supposed to be angel numbers. It’s kind of hard to do that with only two numbers. Though 666 is actually more of a demonic number, it still fits the theme. Aside from the strange percentages, you’re also concerned by the question mark next to ‘faithful’, not to mention the fact that his purity is already so low he’s conflicted. You haven’t even flirted with him yet!

You glance at the other named NPC’s. They’re all unremarkable, full of “has no strong opinion of you” aside from two.

Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99%

Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85%

Your stomach lurches. Gross. You are absolutely repressing that shit.

You check your reputation next.

-The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. -The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. -You are considered a normal student by teachers. -Your fellow students desire you.

You grimace at the last one. You make a mental note to buy a more concealing uniform.

Finally, you have your fame. This one should be normal, right? You’ve only just gotten here.

Sex: Unknown Prostitution: Unknown Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown Exhibitionism: Unknown Pregnancy: Unknown Combat: Obscure Kindness: Obscure Business: Unknown Socialite: Unknown Overall: Famous

What?! Famous?! How does that— Ugh, forget it. You keep reading.

The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

…?

What…what does that mean?

—————————

Next>

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part III)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: 18+, smut, canon typical violence, cursing, drinking  

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood face the consequences of Benjicot’s decision. 

word count: 4.7k 

author note: I’m having so much fun writing this little series. I’ve decided that there will be four or five parts in total, so look out for the next part soon. Happy reading!

part I can be found here. part II can be found here. part iv can be found here.

You were going to kill Benjicot Blackwood. 

That was the first thought you had after waking in an unfamiliar room with a splitting headache. You could forgive him for knocking you unconscious the first time. But for a second? Absolutely not.

The room you had been left in was uncomfortably warm. The dying fire in the hearth indicated that you had likely been here for hours. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the bed you had been tucked into. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, and a quick brush of your fingers through your hair revealed knots and tangles. 

Oh yes, you were going to kill that Blackwood heir as soon as you got your hands on him. 

Making your way to the wall of windows on the right side of the room, your stomach sank. Dusk was settling in. You had been gone from Stone Hedge all day, and there no chance your absence had gone unnoticed. Your father would be furious.  

Glancing around the courtyard beneath the windows, you were not entirely shocked to find yourself at Raventree Hall. You had never visited the keep in person, but you had heard tales of the ancient stone walls adorned with climbing moss. From your vantage point, you could just make out the top of the colossal, dead weirwood tree in the godswood. Already ravens were gathering to roost for the night. 

You had to find Benjicot. Had to find him and ask him what in the Seven Hells possessed him to bring you here of all places. A Bracken behind enemy lines. 

You heard the lock at the door unlatch. Unsure if friend or foe approached, you glanced to your left and right but found no weapon. The best you could find was a candleholder. Grabbing it, you pressed yourself against the wall furthest from the door. Raising the makeshift weapon, you readied yourself to throw. 

A tall woman with long, dark hair and an archer’s bow attached to her back entered. When she spotted you, candleholder raised to strike, she lifted her eyebrows and huffed out a laugh.

“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.” 

There was no doubt in who she could be. 

Alysanne Blackwood. Sister to Lord Samwell Blackwood. Aunt to Benjicot Blackwood. And Black Aly to all those who would dare cross her bow. 

With shaking hands, you returned the candleholder to its proper place. Dipping into a small curtsy, you said, “Lady Blackwood, I am—”

“I know who you are.” Alysanne said, cutting you off. She paused to look at you, eyes glancing up and down, taking in your soiled dress and tangled hair. You tried desperately not to fidget under her scrutiny. 

But then her face broke into a smile. You could see the family resemblance easily enough. Although not nearly as feral, Alysanne’s smile had the same vicious edge as Benjicot’s. “So, you are the Bracken who has stolen my dear nephew’s heart.”

You did not know how to respond. Any thought you might have had left your head under Alysanne’s gaze and her accusation. Seeing the panicked look on your face, she laughed again and gestured to the seats before the fire. “Come now, little Bracken. Sit with me. We women folk have much to discuss.”

You left the comfort of the wall and did as she bid. You had no idea what Alysanne wanted to discuss. Her mood seemed relatively pleasant, all things considered. But the Blackwoods were notorious for their quick tempers and could switch at a moment’s notice. 

Alysanne took the bow off her back, leaning it against the hearth but still within her reach. You tried to calm your racing heart, but your palms were starting to sweat. You did not believe that Alysanne would harm you, at least not physically. But Benjicot’s absence, even if only temporary, set you on high alert. 

You could not help but ask,“Where is Benji—I mean, where is Lord Blackwood?”

Alysanne seemed amused by your question. Leaning back in her chair, she regarded you before answering, “My nephew has been otherwise detained.”

Her tone and mocking smile struck a nerve. You could feel your own temper begin to flare. And you could tell that Alysanne was taking pleasure in your apparent discomfort, watching you try to get a grip on your emotions. You should not have been surprised. Nothing brought a Blackwood more joy than torturing a Bracken. 

You tried for diplomacy. “Lady Blackwood, please—”

“Call me Aly, little Bracken.” She said, waving her hand at your formalities. “I think we need wine for this conversation.” 

What conversation? You were not sure your stomach could handle alcohol, but you were not stupid enough to refuse. 

With a full glass in hand, you watched Alysanne—Aly—take a deep drink. Setting the goblet down, she turned to you, a serious look in her eyes, and asked, “So, tell me, has my nephew fucked you yet?”

You choked on your wine.

Laughing, Aly gave you a thump on the back to help clear your airway. “You know, I’ve never met a Bracken with such delightful expressions.”

Finding your voice, you managed, “I’m happy I could be such a source of entertainment for you.” 

Aly picked up her wine again and smiled. Her gaze softening as she said, “I can see why he likes you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise. You were desperate to know what Benjicot said about you to his family, but you had a feeling that Aly would not betray his confidence. The two might be aunt and nephew, but they were only a handful of years apart in age. Closer to a sister and brother. 

Taking another sip of wine, Aly’s face grew serious once again.“My question may have been crude, but I did not ask it to embarrass you. I need to know before I can advise my brother on how to proceed.” 

You swallowed down the wine that threatened to return back up. “How to proceed?”

Running a hand through her dark curls, Aly took a beat before responding. “Earlier today, a host of Bracken men showed up to Raventree Hall under a white flag and claimed that the Blackwoods had taken Lord Amos Bracken’s only daughter. My brother laughed in their faces and sent them away.” 

Aly took another deep drink of wine before continuing. “Not two hours later, Benjicot turns up with you in his arms, spinning a tale about finding you in the woods out cold, and seeing as how Raventree Hall was closer, decided to bring you here to see our maester.”

Wine forgotten, Aly leveled a hard look at you. “Of course, the maester did not find anything to explain your condition, except for a peculiar bump on the back of your head. If I didn’t know better, the bump looked like it came from the hilt of a sword or dagger. Most curious.”

You could not look at Aly, for you knew that your face would reveal too much. Would reveal that Benjicot lied. 

“And then there are, of course, the injuries on your neck.”

Your hand lifted to touch your neck, almost as if it was detached from the rest of your body. Your throat felt parched as you asked, “Other injuries?”

Aly smirked and leaned closer to you. “Oh yes. You seem to have some bruising on the sides of your neck. Almost looks like bite marks.” 

You felt yourself pale, the wine definitely threatening to make a reappearance. You wanted to sink into your chair, make yourself as small as possible. 

Aly knew that she had you. “So, I ask again, did my nephew fuck you? Did he take advantage—”

“No!” The denial was out of your mouth before you could think. No matter how angry you were with him, you refused to let anyone believe the worst about Benjicot. You would suffer any consequences, go to any lengths, to protect him and his honor. 

Stealing yourself as best you could to hold Aly’s eyes, you vowed, “I remain a maiden.” 

Aly held your gaze for a long moment, searching your eyes for any hint of deception. Waiting to see if you would crack under pressure. Finally, she nodded and let loose a deep sigh. “I did not think Benjicot capable of forcing a woman, but I had to ask. As to whether your maidenhead remains intact, I shall believe you, little Bracken. For now.”

You slumped back into the chair, suddenly exhausted. You felt as if you had just survived a great battle. And maybe you had. Black Aly was almost as notorious as her nephew. To do battle against them, whether by wit or sword, was to take your fate into your own hands.

But the war was not yet won. 

You hesitated to ask but you had to know, “How will you advise Lord Samwell?” 

Aly’s attention had turned to the dying fire, sipping her wine in thought. “Because you remain a maiden, the easy solution is to return you to Stone Hedge at first light before wind gets back to Bracken that you’re here.”

Your heart sank at her words. The moment you returned to Stone Hedge would be the moment you lost what little freedom your father had granted you. No longer would you be allowed to wander the grounds unaccompanied. No longer would you be able to steal away onto Blackwood lands in the hopes of seeing Benjicot. 

Worse still, you were of marriageable age and had been for some time. You were fortunate that your father had not betrothed you as soon as your courses started. But with war on the horizon, you knew your father would not hesitate to betroth you now should the right opportunity present itself.

Sighing again, Aly leaned back in her chair to match your relaxed posture. “But I have a strong feeling that my nephew, in all of his infinite wisdom, will oppose such a plan.” Glancing at you, she said, “He can be quite stubborn when he wants to be.”

You smiled to yourself, picturing the look on Benjicot’s face when he did not immediately get his way. “Yes, he is.”

Without warning, Aly stood up from her chair, causing you to scramble to your feet in response. “I’ll have dinner brought to you soon.” 

Straightening to your full height, spine locked, you asked, “Am I to be a prisoner, Aly?”

You watched Aly quickly mask the look of surprise on her face at your boldness. If you did not know any better, you would say she almost looked impressed. 

Turning her back to you and walking toward the door, she called out, “Not a prisoner yet, little Bracken. But best stay here for your own protection. Not all Blackwoods will treat you as kindly as my nephew.” 

With that, Black Aly opened the door and left. You sank back into your chair when you heard the lock latch close. 

Despite Aly’s assurances, you had never felt more trapped in your life. Dinner had come and gone, and there was still no word from Benjicot. You could feel your frustration and fear rise with each passing hour. 

You wanted to know what was happening. Were the Blackwoods sending word to your father? Were you going to be returned home? Were the Blackwoods going to forbid Benjicot from ever seeing you again? Would a war be fought over this? The Blackwoods and Brackens had fought each other over much less. 

All you could do was sit and think and dwell on the unknowns. You had explored every inch of the chambers, finding no books or papers to keep your mind occupied. Every second you spent in this godsdamn room drove you closer to a breaking point. 

When you heard the lock at the door begin to unlatch again, you sprung into action. You could not be alone in this room for a moment longer. Hiding on the other side of the door, you waited until the person entered your chambers, determined to fight your way out if necessary. 

You did not pause to consider whether this was a wise choice. You had no weapons nor training, but you did not care. You were a Bracken with your back against the wall. And your instinct was telling you to fight. 

So, when the door finally opened and a man entered your chambers, you acted. Leaping onto his back, you let out a scream, punching and kicking and clawing at anything you could get your hands on. The man cursed and tried to get a grip on you, but you squirmed out of his reach. 

Only when you broke skin and felt blood beneath your fingernails did you pause long enough to notice whom you had attacked. Dark, messy hair. A strong, powerful build. A familiar scent. 

Grasping your arms and removing them from his neck, Benjicot Blackwood turned to face you. And even though his face and hands were decorated with blood from your scratches, he looked at you like you were the most wonderful creature in all of Westeros. 

“Have you had your fill yet, my lady?” 

You did not know whether to kiss him or kill him. Perhaps both. And maybe in that order. 

Launching yourself into his arms, you kissed Benjicot with everything you had. His lips were full and warm, molding against yours instantly. With one hand splayed on your back and the other gripping your waist, he pulled you against him, flushing your bodies together until you could not tell where one of you began and the other ended. 

And when you tugged at his hair, he moaned into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation. His bite was not hard enough to draw blood, but you felt your core tighten in response. You whimpered, deepening the kiss as you slid your tongue against his. But when he moved his hand to your breast, gliding his touch over your pebbled nipple, you pulled back. 

Panting heavily, you detached yourself from his arms and put space in between you. Benjicot’s cheeks were flushed and his breathing was as uneven as yours. You could see a question begin to form in his gaze, but he does not ask it, waiting instead for you to proceed. 

As soon as you got your breathing under control, you said, “We need to talk."

Benjicot nodded in agreement, moving to the chairs that you and Aly had occupied earlier. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” 

When you settled across from him, you could feel the tension returning to your body. You did not know where the two of you stood, not really. You had shared kisses and pleasure, spoken words of love and devotion, but Benjicot had left you alone and in the dark—literally and metaphorically. You did not know what conversations had taken place or decisions made while you were confined to these chambers. And that thought—that he had not cared enough to even leave note—was enough to have your anger returning in full force. 

“What in the Seven Hells were you thinking bringing me here?” You snapped. 

Benjicot raised a brow at your harsh words, but responded evenly, “I recognized the voices we heard in the woods as Blackwood men. There was no explanation we could provide to them that would make sense and preserve your honor. Better for them to believe that I happened upon an unconscious, injured Bracken.” 

“Did you have to knock me unconscious? I could have pretended to have sprained my ankle!”

Shooting you a look of disbelief, Benjicot said, not unkindly, “My lady, you are many things. But a good liar is not one of them.”

You were going to strangle him. 

Benjicot smirked at your expression. “I love when you get that violent look on your face.” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his declaration. And when you did not otherwise respond, Benjicot relented, expression growing serious. “I did not mean to leave you alone all day. When we returned, and I found out that your father was looking for you, I had to explain everything to my father and aunt.”

You shot him a look of horror. “Everything?”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, my lady, I told them everything. Told them how warm and wet your cunt felt against my—”

“Benjicot Blackwood!” You shrieked, shoving into his chest. “Have you lost your mind?”

He could not help but laugh. “If I have lost my mind, it is only because you occupy all my thoughts.” 

You felt a sliver of your anger melt away at his sweet words. “Fine, I am a terrible liar. That still does not explain why you decided to bring me here. You could have returned me to Stone Hedge.”

Benjicot’s expression, which had been light and open, shuddered closed. You watched him get a far off look on his face. You tried to catch his eyes, but he avoided your gaze. “Do you wish for that? To return to Stone Hedge?”

Your heart squeezed at his questions. For you knew that if you said yes, he would return you to your home. He may be Bloody Ben to the world, ruthless fighter who took no prisoners, but to you, he was kind and loving and protective. He would respect your wishes, even if that meant being away from him. 

Grabbing his hand, you traced his fingers, lingering your touch over the marks you had left behind. “I wish to be wherever you are.”

Benjicot took your hand in his, pulled you up from your chair, and settled you on his lap. Your face warmed at the intimacy, but you relaxed in his arms. Leaning your head against his chest, you let a feeling of peace wash over you, even if only for the moment.

You did not know how long the two of you sat in silence, content to just hold one another. But you knew that you could not stay like this forever. There were too many words left unspoken. Too many decisions to be made. 

Benjicot broke the silence first. “I brought you to Stone Hedge because I never wish to part from you. The thought of leaving you on Bracken land again gutted me.” He paused, throat working as he tried to gather his thoughts. Closing his eyes, Benjicot looked like he was bracing himself. “I knew that if I brought you here, brought you to my father and Aly, we could force the issue of us being together.”

Pulling away from his chest, you adjusted your legs to straddle his thighs. Benjicot’s hands gripped your waist to steady you. You clasped his face in your hands, demanding his gaze on yours. “We should have made that decision together. This is my life too, my future. I refuse to be under your thumb, Blackwood.” 

Lowering your face to his, you whispered against his mouth, “If you ever do something like that again, I will end you.” 

You did not know who kissed whom. But it did not matter. Benjicot’s mouth was on yours, devouring and claiming. Lifting you into his arms, and without breaking the kiss, he moved the two of you from the chairs to the bed. 

Your back hit the pillows. When you did not feel Benjicot’s weight on you, you opened your eyes to see him at the foot of the bed. Watching you. The look in eyes was pure hunger. His entire being seemed focused on you. On your body. The rise and fall of your breasts. The clenching of your thighs. 

“Benjicot.” There was a note of pleading in your voice.

His name on your lips broke whatever spell he was under. His lips returned to yours as if he were starving for your kiss. 

You spread your legs for him, letting his body fall into the cradle of your thighs. You flushed at the hardness you felt against your core. And when he drove his hips into yours, pressing that hardness against you, you moaned, legs trembling as you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter. 

Benjicot moved his kiss from your mouth down to your neck, biting and licking and marking for all the world to see. He wanted to brand you. Wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him. That you were his and he was yours.

He slid one hand up your leg, bringing your dress with him until it pooled at your waist, revealing your lower half to him, with only your small clothes in between.

You could not stop your hips from bucking when he dragged his hand over your covered cunt. You had never felt anything like this before. Your attempts at pleasuring yourself were nothing compared to what Benjicot did to you. You felt warm and achy and empty and completely out of control.  

“Will you let me see more of you, my lady?” Benjicot asked, not taking his eyes away from where his hand touched your heat. 

You were on a precipice. There was no turning back from this. No turning back from whatever ruin lay ahead of you. 

Letting out a breath, you whispered, “Yes.” 

No sooner had the word left your mouth were your small clothes ripped from your body. You did not have even a moment to protest, for the second your cunt was exposed to the air, Benjicot was bringing his hand between your folds. 

“Fuck.” Benjicot groaned. Slipping one finger into you, he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. “You’re so wet, my lady.”

You whined at his words and the feeling of his hand working you. With every touch and circle of his fingers, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to that release you craved. 

But release evaded you. You rocked yourself against Benjicot’s hand, trying to force his movements to switch from slow and careful to forceful and demanding. 

“Benjicot, please—” 

“Please what, my lady?” His voice teasing, as he began to slow his movements. 

You groaned in frustration. You did not have the words. Did not know what to ask for. “I need something.” 

Benjicot stopped moving his hand entirely, and you could have cried. And when he removed his hand completely, you considered killing him all over again. 

“I swear on the old gods and the new—”

The look Benjicot shot you silenced the curse on your tongue. “No gods will hear you here, my lady.”

Glaring at him, you asked, “Do you wish for me to beg, Blackwood?” 

Benjicot hummed at the question. “A Bracken begging for a Blackwood to bring her pleasure? That does hold some appeal.” 

Before you could respond, Benjicot slid down your body, bracing both hands on your thighs to keep you open and spread wide. Your stomach clenched, as he brought his face to hover over your slick cunt. 

Benjicot glanced back up at you, waiting for a signal that you understood what he intended. Your breaths were uneven and rapid. The thought of his mouth on the most intimate part of you was beyond your comprehension. 

And when you nodded, Benjicot gave you that feral, wicked smile. The one that never failed to make your heart thud against your chest. He lowered his head, until all you could see was his dark, messy hair between your thighs. 

The first drag of his tongue against your center fractured your world. You felt undone and made whole again. You thought your heard Benjicot curse against your wetness, but you were too far lost in pleasure to be sure. 

He licked and licked and licked. Each swipe of his tongue brought a moan to your lips. He lingered on your clit, sucking and nipping until it was almost too much. You arched against him, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips against his face.  

Benjicot pressed a hand to your stomach, stilling you, as he slid his tongue straight into your cunt. You could not think, could not do anything except submit to the feelings he brought out in you. 

“You taste,” Benjicot moaned against you, “even better than I imagined, my lady.” 

You were sure you were crying. At the sight of your tears, Benjicot laughed and sunk two fingers into you, dragging another moan from the depths of your throat. 

Release was almost in your reach, just beyond your grasp. “Please, please, please.” You chanted, shaking your head back and forth against the pillow. 

Benjicot drove his fingers deeper and deeper, working his teeth and tongue against you, and with one final flick of his tongue to your clit, your back bowed off the bed, your release crashing into you. 

Even when you clenched down on his fingers and pulled at his hair, Benjicot did not stop moving against you. Fingers pumping. Tongue and lips feasting. He devoured whatever pleasure you gifted him. Only when you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air and reeling at the aftershocks, did he finally stop.

Your mind and body existed on different planes. You were not even sure you remembered your own name, so thoroughly had Benjicot upended your world. 

As you tried to put yourself back together, you noticed Benjicot adjusting himself in his breaches. You had never seen a cock before. But suddenly you found yourself desperate to see his. 

Sitting up, you placed your hand atop his, staying his movements. Benjicot glanced at you sharply, his breath catching in his throat. 

You met his stare. You did not know what you were doing. All you knew was that you wanted to give him even a fracture of the pleasure he had given you. 

Swallowing your insecurities, you asked, “Will you show me what to do?”

For once, Benjicot seemed to be at a loss for words. But he helped you undo the laces and unfasten his breaches. The muscles in his thighs shifted as he pulled himself free. 

Benjicot’s cock was enormous. Although you had nothing to compare it to, you were sure he had to be on the larger side. Enormous and hard and leaking from the slit at the top. Your mouth felt parched at the sight. 

You looked up at Benjicot, only to find his eyes focused wholly on you and your reaction. You did not want to disappoint him. 

“How do I please you, my lord?” Benjicot groaned at your words, taking himself in hand. Up and down, he stroked his length with a force that surprised you. 

Benjicot watched as your eyes widened at his actions. Watched the way you licked your lips. Watched the way you rubbed your thighs together. You enjoyed seeing him this way. 

“Have you ever touched a cock, my lady?” He knew the answer but wanted your confirmation. 

Shaking your head, you reached out to run your finger over the leaking slit. Benjicot grabbed your and placed it on his cock, trembling when you wrapped your hand around his length. 

And what a feeling that was. The ruthless, cruel Bloody Ben trembling from the pleasure you gave him. The idea of him being wholly at your mercy was intoxicating. 

Your own hand shook a little as you stroked him. The skin was softer than you had imagined, but he felt hard as steel beneath. You felt him shudder against you as you worked your hand up and down. 

“That’s it, my lady.” Benjicot murmured, lost in the feeling of your hand against him. “Just a little harder. You won’t break me.” You followed Benjicot’s direction, squeezing his cock and pumping as fast as you had seen him do before. 

And when he felt your nails graze the sensitive underside of his cock, he arched off the bed, chest heaving.

“You handle my cock so well.” You flushed at the praise, your own breaths coming out quicker and quicker the more you touched and explored. 

With one final hard twist, Benjicot exploded in your hand, moaning your name as he came. 

How many times had he imagined this? How many times had he thought of you while touching himself? And now you were here, in his home, and he never wanted you to leave. 

Benjicot surged forward, kissing you with all of his pent up feelings. He refused to live without you. Refused to give you up because of an ancient feud and a looming war. 

So, even though you were both half dressed, slick with sweat and spit and gods know what else, Benjicot asked, “My lady, would you do me the honor of marrying me? Tonight?” 

final author note: I hope you liked it! I think I updated my taglist to reflect everyone who asked to be added, but please let me know if I missed you or if you would like to be added for future updates.

taglist:

@painted-flag @majoso12

@strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

@rebeccawinters @alifeinspiredd

@klutzylaena @poppyflower-22

@iliterallyhavenoideawhattowrite @justannadahfanfictor

@aaaaslaaaan @hobis-hope95

@username199945 @daddyslittlevillain

@flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @prettykinkysoul

[msfantasy-anime]

Sorry, I’m … married!

Monkey. D Luffy x Reader

Summary: An overly zealous marine by the name of Shimoi Zappa is enraptured by your beauty and just will not take no for an answer. Your final rejection comes in the form of a blow to his face which earns you a bounty and DoA wanted poster.

A/n: not my best, but I’m setting up the story to pushing Y/n into the straw hat crew for future adventures.

Part I • Part II • Part III •

It’s been long since you parted ways with your ‘husband’ and the straw hat pirates on the docks that day.

Despite his incessant pleas, to join the crew. You were adamant on having a your own adventure. You weren’t quite ready to give up your freedom to serve in a wanted pirate crew, the world government chasing you until you are caught.

Piracy was always a dream of Sabo, Luffy and Aces, but yours was just to explore the world.

Despite all your reasonings, the tearful parting left you feeling unsure if you made the right decision. The New World is far more dangerous than the redline ever could be, maybe joining a strong and rambunctious pirate crew would’ve actually led to even greater adventures.

You continued to contemplate, your eyes glazed off into the distance sunset horizons as the merchants ship that granted you passage is offloading supplies onto a marine base island.

The captain of the merchants ship encouraged you to explore the island, but the marines on an isolated training island is begging for trouble. All of the officers are hyped up on self-importance, they’re all itching to prove their self worth by dominate any and all around them regardless if it was warranted enough. You’ve traveled enough to know that there are just as many corrupt marines as there are good marines. But you have truely had your fill for a life time and avoid them where possible.

It’s better to just stay nice and close to the ship and leave as soon as humanly possible.

Unfortunately, your train of thought comes to a crashing holt when you feel the intense sensation of being watched.

Springing from your seat, you turn around quickly, to see the creeping figure of a marine, slinking up behind you.

“Oh dear, oh my, what a sight you are.” The tall creepy marine exclaims, his cheeks blushing. “I knew you’d look pretty considering how gorgeous you look with just your back turned! My name is Shimoi Zappa. May I have your name miss?” The marine swoons. His flirtations make your stomach sink.

“Errrrrrm… it’s Y/n.”

“Y/n?! What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He swoons yet again, making you wildly uncomfortable.

“Gee, thanks.” You dead pan, looking towards the merchants ship, begging silently for help escaping this weird encounter.

“Please Miss, my heart has never yearned for another like it has for you. Please do me the honour of becoming my wife!” With one knee to the ground, he snatches your hand and places a weirdly wet kiss along your knuckles.

“UGH! No, thanks anyway.” You try to add politely on the end, whipping the back of your hand.

Falling completely onto his hands and knees, he begins to sob hysterically into the ground. “No?! Why?!” He sobs once again, grabbing your hips pushing his teary eyes into your abdomen, making your squirm in discomfort.

“Sorry, you see I’m…” Your mind reels in search of the perfect answer that won’t offend the creep whilst also strongly reaffirming your unavailability. “Im married!”

“This cannot be, this can’t be! Where is this husband of yours.” He asks, looking around, as if a man would pop into immediate view. Your jaw clenches in irritation, why couldn’t he just believe your words?

“Well, he’s off exploring the world-“

“Without you?! What kind of husband abandons his wife like this?! He mustn’t be a good husband if he leaves you alone out in this world full of creeps.”

“Right…”

“Please reconsider leaving that useless husband of yours and marry me instead.” He begs once again, grabbing your hand once again and giving it a pleading squeeze.

“Listen buddie, shut up about my husband. He’s a great man. Someone as vile as you will never understand.” Your usual amicable nature goes flying out the window. The overbearing flirting was one thing, but no one will ever disrespect Luffy to your face and live to tell the tale.

All commonsense goes flying out the window as you hand a devastating heavy hit to his face, knocking him out instantly.

“Hey Luffy! Come and look! There’s a new pirate bounty out.” Brook exclaims excitedly.

Luffy launches himself with bountiful energy, keen to see his new bounty. Only to be faced with the non other than your bounty.

Monkey. Y/n 100,000,000 berries. Dead or Alive.

“Hahaha! She said she didn’t want to join because having a bounty would make it hard to travel- but the dumby went and got a bounty anyway! Hahaha!” Luffy cackles. “Huh? Hey, did you guys notice that Y/n has my last name? That’s weird- I wonder why they did that.” Luffy questions scratching his head.

“100,000,000 million berries! What did Y/n do?!” Nami asks Brook in horror.

“The article says that Y/n was visiting the marine training island on a merchants ship when she punched a marine after talking poorly of her husband Monkey. D Luffy.” Luffy’s cackle continues until it comes to an abrupt halt.

“What island was she on again? Let’s go pick her up on the way to Big Moms.” He announce with a wide toothy smile.

“Great, maybe we can also steal some food while we are at it.” Nami agrees, returning back to the helm.

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon IV — Escape

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] Part IV — You are here]

After four hundred years, the chance for escape finally presents itself—what will you choose?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, brief mentions of NSFW thoughts and past events, feral dragon Neuvillette

Your opportunity for escape came on a gray and dismal day.

The past week had been particularly grueling for the Chief Justice—or so he had panted into your ear while he pinned you to the bed, skin slick with sweat and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

You’d initially took it as a thinly veiled excuse for the dragon to lash out, for him to lay claim to you once again, but you soon noticed his focus actually wavering. Just enough for it to slip his mind to tell your Melusine guards (or guides, as Neuvillette would insist) not to bring you to his office for your regular afternoon tea with him. Furina had insisted on his last-minute presence at the meeting between her and certain Snezhnayan diplomats, and his unwavering sense of responsibility to Fontaine prevented him from rejecting the order.

That was how you found yourself sitting alone in his office.

You were quite confused. Neuvillette never skipped tea with you. In fact, as the busiest man in Fontaine, he insisted on it. It was a new development, one he thought might bring the two of you closer and outside of a purely domestic setting.

You’d be grateful for the change of scenery if you didn’t end up bent over his desk half the time.

In the beginning you had fought him on it, but as time in his captivity stretched on you soon realized this was one of the only chances allotted to you beyond your shared abode, especially now that the Opera was off limits. You even got to chat with the Melusines who acted as your sweet, naive guards. They reminded you of Carole and your previous life, a bittersweet memory that you held onto like a fleeting dream.

Now, you couldn’t help but start to fidget in your seat. When one minute became two, and two became five, and five became ten, you couldn’t help the anxious tapping of your nails against his desk. Where was he? Had something happened to him? You knew the Chief Justice would never commit a crime, but the notion of him imprisoned forever in the Fortress or Meropide was one that brought you comfort during your unrequited relationship.

Particularly on nights he would remind you of whose sentence you were under, whose wife and mate you were.

Pushing both hands against the desk, you rose to your feet and stormed towards the door. You wouldn’t sit idly to stew in your own thoughts. You raised a fist, preparing to knock harshly to alert any Melusine or the Iudex himself whose inhuman perspectives misinterpreted this as some sort of sick joke—

Except the slightest force sent the door ajar, presenting you with an empty hallway.

It was unlocked.

You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate. It invaded your senses, your hearing, your feeling, until it drowned out all of your thoughts but one.

You could leave.

The absence of any other individual was unheard of. Logically, it didn’t make sense; there should have been a guard if Neuvillette expected to be late, or others working in the main office if they hadn’t been dismissed for break as usual (though you knew it was only to spare them of any ungentlemanly sounds that might be coming from his office after you entered).

It was then you realized: Neuvillette had made a mistake.

You didn’t spare a single glance back as you strode out the doors of the Palais Mermonia and onto the streets of Fontaine.

Navigating your way out of the Court was easier than expected. Although there was no mistaking who you were when Neuvillette dragged you out in public—whom else’s waist would he retain an iron grip on throughout an entire opera if not his loving partner—without him by your side, you appeared like any other resident.

Obtaining Mora for the ferry ride to Sumeru was also a breeze. You had no moral objections to pocketing a few coins from unsuspecting citizens along the docks. Why would you, when you had been serving a lifetime sentence of imprisonment anyway?

The ship wasn’t anything fancy and was mostly filled with traveling salesmen and local fishermen, but after centuries of being doted on and monitored constantly, you savored the feeling of being normal, of feigning the role of a traveling merchant. You truly never thought that pretending to be an average worker would feel so freeing.

Suddenly, the skin of your arm began to crawl, feeling like a thousand pinpricks were digging their claws under your skin. You hissed at the sharp pain, gasping at the brief flash of your draconic tattoo, and then…nothing. You could almost always feel it, but it seems that upon crossing a certain distance the leviathan decided to lie dormant. You thanked Barbados for your luck; in your certainty of escaping, you hadn’t even thought of the physical tie between you and Neuvillette.

As the boat pulled out of the dock, relief washed over you like the serenity after a storm. After months of the Iudex, the supposed upholder of Justice, violating every rule against you, you were finally free.

As you watched Fontaine’s massive cliffs fade into the waves, you briefly mourned your choice to leave your Hydro Vision behind; however, you reasoned that the risk in going back for it and wasting precious time was too great. Not to mention the fact that you were sure you’d never get away with slipping it out of Neuvillette’s grasp, and you certainly didn’t want to squander this chance by running back into his arms. Although you knew the rumors of what happened to bearers who lost their Visions, you were willing to take your chances if it meant securing your freedom.

A sudden splash against your cheek jerked you from your thoughts. Upon looking up, you found the previously azure sky to have darkened. Rain began steadily falling, soon fully soaking your frilly dress (another insistence of Neuvillette’s, that you always wear dresses for teatime…never again!). Thunder rolled across the waters, bringing a taste of pain, anger, and betrayal with it.

Ah, so he’s realized your absence. Good—let him rage. Let him experience the heartbreak of losing what you hold most dear.

Maybe that will serve as his atonement for his sins against you.

You noticed then that, like your draconic captor, you too were crying. Though not of sadness—no, yours were tears of joy.

~*~

Although you had originally planned to journey back to your homeland in the City of Wind—not that you had anyone left there to return to, it was more for your own comfort—you found Sumeru to be to your liking. It was Fontaine’s foil—hot, dry, intellectually driven yet full of untamed wilderness. Full of real, thriving flora and fauna that cold, inorganic meka could never match.

The presence of the Akademiya and Port Ormos even offered you a line to continue your photography and research. Due to the dark room Neuvillette had installed in the library, your skills with a camera hadn’t grown too rusty over the centuries. Now, you finally were able to photograph your true passions again—nature, the water, the animals around you. Their harmony and beauty together, their freedom.

It may seem as if you hadn’t gotten far, but with how vast the Nation of Wisdom was, you felt safe to start anew. For the first time in four hundred years, you felt at home.

Three months had passed since your escape, with no indication that the Iudex was on your trail. After enrolling in the Akademiya (which had required you to change your name, since posing as a four hundred year old would probably not go over well), you even found a group of fellow students that you worked and resided with in the city. You were still careful, of course—you never traveled alone, avoided looking flashy in public, and even altered your look by cutting your hair to suit the arid climate.

That is, until you weren’t.

Your advisor appointed you to join an exclusive research project on the wildlife transition along the Sumeru/Fontaine border. Having experience with Fontaine’s biology, you were the clear candidate. Your initial trepidation almost won out, but you finally conceded at the encouragement of your peers. You’d even be traveling with your advisor and two of your roommates, so you chalked your nerves up to not having set foot in the direction of Fontaine in months. After all, you’d been meaning to explore the desert and its ecology—you just needed to take the plunge and face your fears.

Water was a rarity in the desert, after all.

Which is why, as your party was ascending the final dunes of the Desert of Hadramaveth, you believed the tall, blue-adorned figure approaching was a mirage. A result of dehydration after days of travel in these harsh conditions, a trick of the mind—

“Of all the places you could have escaped to, was it necessary to choose such a dry and barren place as this?” The last part was mumbled under his breath, his tone taking on a low growl, “I cannot help but feel that you bringing me here is some form of an assassination attempt…”

At the sound of his voice, just as deep and commanding as you remembered, your entire being came to a standstill. You despised how you had been conditioned for that tone to send a pangs of trepidation to your core.

Yet despite the Chief Justice’s presence right before you, a part of your brain refused to process it. He was the Hydro dragon, for Archon’s sake. What in all of Teyvat could drag him to the farthest place from the sea?

You, apparently.

At your silence, Neuvillette’s lips tightened. His expression was near unreadable, but you recognized the tumultuous mix of anger and longing storming under that stoic facade.

The other members of your group appeared confused and uneasy. Apparently Neuvillette’s reputation preceded him, even outside of Fontaine, for the common mumbling you picked up on was speculations of his role here.

“Is that the Chief Justice of Fontaine?” a professor whispered to your advisor nervously. “What is he doing here? Surely none of us have offended the court…” Her eyes flickered to you briefly. Due to the nature of the research, it was common knowledge among the group that you were the one with connections to Fontaine.

Said Justice took a step towards you, spurring you to take a larger step back. You knew running wasn’t an option, but you reasoned that he couldn’t just take you clawing and spitting for all your colleagues to witness. No, he would have to convince them of your guilt before he could act.

Well, two could play at that game; you lived with Neuvillette long enough to learn some of his ticks and tells, especially when it came to you. This would be a game of negotiation, a chess match of wits. Neuvillette’s intellect was near unmatched, but if you played your cards right, you could win.

The tide that is Fontaine’s Iudex may one day sweep you under his control, but it is not this day.

“Madame (L/n), by the authority of the Court of Fontaine and the Nation of Justice, I hereby place you under my custody for immediate detainment.”

Or not.

A few of the researchers around you gasped, tittering about your supposed false identity. The professor from earlier backed away from you with a sneer. Looking around, you noted that even your friends were eyeing you warily like some stranger.

All logic left you at the dragon’s announcement. The terror gripping your heart was replaced by blinding, bubbling rage. You would not concede to the man who took everything from you and would take it all again, washing away the life you had built again like a house of sand.

You practically hissed in response. Now this was familiar. “Under what charges?”

Lifting his cane, Neuvillette summoned a levitating tome from which he read, “Multiple accounts of theft, use of a fraudulent identity, desertion in court to be tried for said charges, and emotional damages to the residents of Fontaine affected by your careless and selfish actions.”

You scoffed, your lip curling in a snarl. “And I suppose that last ‘charge’ applies specifically to you?”

The draconic man merely narrowed his piercing purple eyes. Unlike your own, Neuvillette’s demeanor did not falter. He wanted you to lash out, to validate the accusations against you in front of the Sumerian researchers. His objective was solely to retrieve you—quelling your anger would come later.

The day you left Fontaine, Neuvillette had felt a piece of his soul shatter.

He could feel the very moment you crossed the border, when the draconic bond between mates and lovers was severed. It was a guillotine to his head, a rope around his neck, a bullet to his temple. Pain, raw and agonizing, enveloped his very being. The dragon beneath his skin raged, begging Neuvillette to fly to you and sink his claws so deep you could never leave again. The all-consuming panic over your loss, over your safety now that you were outside of his sight, had threatened to rise up and smother him, to drown him and sweep the fractured pieces away until he was nothing.

It had rained for weeks straight, so much so that the citizens of Fontaine brought back the old adage—Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.

As much as he wanted, needed to find you, the Chief Justice could not simply abandon his post and his people. Going against his very nature, he quelled the dragon and settled on deploying Gardemeks to Sumeru and Liyue to search for you. It had been easy enough to program them with your photo and statement of your status as a fugitive. Surely you couldn’t have gotten any farther than the regions bordering Fontaine, and if so, the mekas would signal your location to him in no time.

So, after weeks on end of the Garde failing to locate you, Neuvillette’s anxiety swelled from a shower to a tempest, a storm of violent wind and flurrying emotion. He found himself in the library he had built you, clawed fingers clutching his face with labored breaths. Black danced across his vision.

Was he not enough for you? Had he not given you anything and everything you could desire? Had he not kept his mate safe?

Why did you abandon me, (Y/n)?

When he had come to, the room was in tatters, the carpet shredded with claw marks and the walls smoldering with blue energy.

Neuvillette decided then that he could not wait any longer.

Tracking you only fueled the dragon. It could sense you, the pull of your tattoo awakening with each step Neuvillette took to close the gap. It was one mate beckoning another, like the pull of the moon on the tide. Your light guided him straight into your path.

And when Neuvillette finally saw your figure, illuminated by the hottest desert sun, he had nearly fallen to his knees and wept in relief. You were so beautiful, yet the look of terror on your face ripped his soul apart all over again. Even now, even here, you wanted to reject him. Could you not see how far he would travel for you, how long his reach would extend just to keep you safe?

In that moment, the dragon roared, and Neuvillette listened.

After seemingly endless hours, days, and months to think about the reasons you left him, he realized that he must have been too lenient with you. He practically was the law in Fontaine, yet he had dismissed your transgressions time and time again, thinking your outbursts were simply a temporary response to your new life with him. Yes, the transition had been sudden and the charges against you quite ridiculous, but he truly believed you would fall for him as he did you.

He would tolerate your backlash no more. No longer would he spoil you with gifts, hoping, praying to every member of the Seven just for you to smile at him. Never again would he sigh in defeat when you spurned his touch, leaving him to fuck his hand to the mere idea of you initiating physical intimacy.

No, just like any other criminal in Fontaine, you would have to be imprisoned until you learned your place—in your case, by his side. And he would be lying if he said the idea of punishing you for your offenses, for leaving him, didn’t cause his cock to twitch in anticipation.

The dragon demanded to be satisfied, and it would have its fill.

“We have numerous reports of you stealing Mora from unsuspecting individuals, as well as the testimony from the ship’s captain that you claimed to be a merchant immigrating to Sumeru. Then, of course, comes the addition consequences for violating the authority of the court by leaving Fontaine. The latter makes you a fugitive.”

“That’s insane! I only had to commit those so-called ‘crimes’ because you—”

“Ah, so you plead guilty.”

You blanched. No, not this again. He was riling you up, making you fumble with your argument like a child, just like your initial confrontation with him in the Opera Epiclese. But that was how he viewed you, wasn’t it? His centuries of experience would always trump your own.

“You know that’s not what I meant—

The sound of your advisor clearing his throat momentarily saved you. “Sir, with all due respect, we do not know whomever this Miss (L/n) you are referring to. This young lady here is Miss (Fake name), and she is one of my finest students. I highly doubt she is the one to have committed these acts.”

Neuvillete’s eyes flashed dangerously towards the researcher. He loomed over your advisor, casting them in shadow. “Shall I arrest you as well for conspiring with a criminal?”

You never thought silence could be so deafening.

The Iudex released a huff. “I didn’t think so.” With a flick of his hand, your wrists became bound together with bands of pure hydro. Your protestations did nothing to deter him as he motioned forward, causing you to be forcibly dragged forwards by an invisible force. You were no stranger to this procedure; Neuvillette had used his powers on you more than once in bed. Now that he had his hydro around you, he held all the authority.

Without the ability to control your movements, you tumbled into Neuvillette’s broad chest. To the others it appeared as if he were securing your bindings, but you shivered as he buried his nose in your hair. Softly, in a voice only meant for you, he sighed, “Oh, how I dreamed of this moment, my darling (Y/n). A valiant effort, to be sure, though your pursuit was always in vain. There is nowhere in all of Teyvat I won’t find you.” His hand ran down the length of your arm, where you knew your draconic tattoo was once more glowing under your tunic. “You are marked as mine, my wife. My mate.”

You jerked your head away despite his scent invading your being. “I will never stop running from you, husband,” you growled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dissolving into the Primordial Sea is preferable to lifetime with you.”

To your surprise, a low chuckle escaped the Chief Justice’s lips. “I think you’ll soon find that I can be quite persuasive.” He stood to his full height, face reverting to his usually stoicism. “I shall be taking my leave with the prisoner, then. If any of you wish to object to this ruling, you may submit a false claim report to the Court, and I will attend to it personally.”

Glancing around at your peers, those you believed to be your friends and colleagues, you knew that none of them would fight for you. News of your detainment would be spread through the Akademiya, forever tarnishing your reputation. It was over, and Neuvillette had emerged victorious once again.

The Iudex motioned you forward with a tip of his cane and an ominous spark in his eyes. “Come, my beloved. Let us return home.”

[firestorm09890]

there's a part of canto vi I've been thinking about since it came out, and it doesn't actually have anything to do with Heathcliff.

this

She is bitter as fuck and as time goes on she's getting worse at keeping it down. Sinclair's the one who started it, by talking about how sad it is that they'd never get to see color, and Rodya starts to get a little irritated over it (yeah, sure, pity the Backstreets folk and their poor miserable little lives, privileged nest boy), but she's obviously trying not to straight up call Sinclair a privileged nest boy because she doesn't want to. But then Yi Sang and Ishmael join in on talking about how sad this place is with no color and she just can't keep her opinion down.

But that makes the atmosphere tense, and she hates a tense atmosphere, so she changes the subject and her tone, not giving a damn about how obvious it is. also, haha, ice and cold references.

And actually, this doesn't really have much evidence to support it, but I wonder if she holds a higher level of resentment for Sinclair in particular.

Canto II had some discussion about how Rodya wishes she was special (and while I think what Sonya said about her killing the tax collector just to feel special is absolute bullshit, I do also think there is some truth to her wanting to feel special), and introduced us to the concept of The Sign in a way that was vague and more like foreshadowing than actually introducing it. Then Canto III was all about The Sign, and how special Sinclair is, and since then we've had people talking about signs and stars and a new birth of the world and it's all stuff Rodya doesn't get to be part of.

I don't think she wants to hold resentment for Sinclair, and she especially never wants him to know, but going back after all this time and rereading this one interaction with him in Canto II felt pretty jarring.

the more important part of this is the way it feels like she's making a joke at Heathcliff's expense, for being poor, like even though she's also from the Backstreets she feels she's "above" it.

She absolutely does not feel this way.

On my way to find the first passage, I reread some other interesting stuff:

Once again, there's the harsh juxtaposition between casual, fun-loving Rodya, and tired, poor man's advocate Rodya. Almost everyone on the team speaks through the lens of a Nest dweller (I have to wonder if learning that Heathcliff was apparently raised in a mansion made her even more bitter), and the way she's so short with her mention of the Sweepers makes me think she's thinking about how painfully obvious it would have been to any other Backstreets dweller. And then, right after, dropping back into her casual voice, and Sinclair revealing that Rodya used the fucked up Backstreets creature to tease him...

Other obvious moments of Rodya being bitter as hell about rich people include this part of S.E.A.

and this part of her observation logs on Spiral of Contempt (actually, nearly everything in that log that isn't about the physical abnormality has to do with how much she hates how rich people look down upon the poor)

Hong Lu's canto comes after Don's, and then after his is Ryōshū's, who, based on her source material, probably served one of the most awful, contemptuous rich people the sinners have access to, and I really hope at some point here Rodya gets to snap in a big way

...hey so I wrote this entire post at 1 in the morning and then saved it to drafts because I didn't want to post something at 1 in the morning. the Timekilling Time trailer came out about two hours later, featuring both Rodya... and the long-awaited return of the Yurodiviye. so now it's past 3 in the morning for me but I'm posting it now anyway because ohohoho seeing the Yurodiviye again has given me SO much energy

I have a feeling all this is going to be very relevant extremely soon

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 1

Snap Out Of It 

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 1/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,684 masterlist

Currently playing: Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black does not care. He doesn't care about who you date or hang out with. He does not care that when you smile the corner of your eyes crinkle or that he made you laugh so hard once you actually cried. Sirius does not care that the pink hair clips Remus got you for your birthday matched your lip gloss, as well as the underwear you wore on his birthday. He doesn’t care that you don’t protest when he doesn’t want you spending the night. He doesn’t care that you risked the wrath of Walburga Black by sneaking into the Black household during the summer, just to help heal his wounds as they were so extensive he could not do it alone. He doesn’t care that you always wink at him before your quidditch matches. He doesn’t care that you ditched him to hang out with a no-name blond from-

Sirius didn't want to remember what house he was in, much less his name.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and fairly empty. While the marauders never wasted an opportunity to run around Hogsmeade for a couple of hours, it had been the collective decision, dictated by the foulness of Sirius’s mood, that the lot would stay in the castle today. At least for the first part of the day. It was now 5 in the afternoon.

Remus slapped his book closed, nothing short of exasperated. Although sitting crisscross on the large plush armchair and reading had helped negate the hostile vibrations Sirius had been emitting the past hour, enough was enough.

“If you’re going to pout all day about Y/N’s absence, invite her to Hogsmeade yourself instead next time,”

“Is that where she is? Hadn’t noticed,”

“You are a terrible liar Pads please spare us,” James groaned from the ground, his back against the bottom half of the armchair Remus sat on.

“I don’t know why you think I give a rat’s ass where she is or who she’s with right now,” Sirius knew he was really stretching it now, his tone hadn’t exactly come across as calm and nonchalant. Quite the opposite, his brows had furrowed his face into a scowl and Remus had taken this as his sign to leave, getting up from his chair, James sluggishly crawling into the now empty spot.

“Y/N is not yours Sirius,” Peter frowned at the boy. Sirius’s clenched jaw and hard stare did nothing but spur Peter into rolling his eyes. “You don’t get to be upset when you insist there is nothing between the two of you and then expect her to be at your beck and call,” Peter swiftly got up after, not wanting to even hear what Sirius had to say. They were best mates, but that didn’t mean that any of the marauders wouldn’t tell Sirius Black when he was being an asshole. Peter grabbed his coat from the back of the couch, as he and Remus made a beeline to the common room door, no doubt to make their way to Hogsmeade, enough of the day had been wasted. The fat lady's singing, as she so often fancied doing, perforated the room briefly as the boys opened and closed the door.

“Seriously mate,” James shook his head. ‘You need to snap out of it”. Sirius looked up from his spot on the couch, his legs could now stretch with Peter’s absence and he took the cushion Peter had been hugging to put between his back and the arm of the couch. He couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. James started speaking mindlessly about anything, really, the new prank they wanted to try out, if he should ask Lily Evans on a second date or if it was too soon? I reckon she enjoyed it though. James knew quite well Sirius hadn't been truly listening, but he didn't mind. Not really anyway. He knew his friend quite well, he knew the feelings the boy was trying to repress were bound to bubble up sometime. He had caught Sirius staring at you the entire time you had been at Hogwarts. His eyes trailed after you since you were 11. Since you met on the train.

It wasn't like James didn't know what had been happening recently either. You had been attached at the hip since the ripe age of 5. He was your closest confidant, you joked you were actually cousins. Siblings. He had known about the spirals of conflicted feelings you had fallen on during your fifth year. Much to your own dismay, you liked Sirius Black.

James had a low-key way of encouraging it, even knowing the casanova tendencies Sirius had started to display. The way you bounced off of each other, the jokes, the irony, the stolen glances. The way Sirius's touch always seemed to drift towards you, small pushes after jokes, sweeping you off the ground as you landed, snitch still in your grip. You'd have to be blind to not see the chemistry the two of you had.

Maybe Sirius needed glasses.

James did, however, regret encouraging you. Since April of your fifth year til now, February of your sixth, you had been tangled in Sirius's bed sheets. But not his heart. He wouldn't allow it. And you acted like you didn't either. James held you a good couple of times, as the sobs broke your chest and endless tears poured from your eyes. It isn't his fault Jamie, promise me you won't be mad at him. He couldn't exactly bring himself to let your heartbreak roll off his back, but he didn't want to expose your feelings. So he kept his mouth shut and went to crazy lengths to make sure Sirius wasn't seeing anyone else. Pulling Sirius into crazy unprompted schemes, setting up the girl of the week with someone else, and putting all sorts of spells to lock their door during parties. This one had left them locked out and sleeping in the common room quite a few times. Remus hadn't been happy.

James had tried his best.

Sirius continued to stare up, eyes glazed over as he tried to count the cracks in the ceiling of the common room. He wondered if you were having fun. If the unnamed blond made you laugh. Had you laughed to the point of tears? He doubted it, he looked a bit dull.

Sirius Black did not care that when he asked you if you were going on a date, you blushed, waving off his statement like it was a cloud of smoke.

-

You didn’t want to piss off Sirius. That actually wasn’t the goal at all, because who the bloody hell cares what he thinks? Yet you couldn’t help but think of him while you sat in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

He'd hate this place.

The tea shop was a cute place, it frankly was. It was a rather twee location, filled to the brim with bows and frills. You stared holes into the lacy napkins and sugar bowls. You didn't particularly dislike it. It was cute and you had grown to cherish the pinks and bows, that came with what some defined as femininity. But you enjoyed such things in moderation. And in secret. A lacy napkin stuck out slightly from your small handbag pushed down in a hurry. It would be nice for your scrapbook.

It was the date spot for the hopeless romantics. Or the pushy ones too. You didn’t peg Mr. Jacob Brown as one to frequent such places, but you wouldn’t say no to a free meal with a handsome man.

You weren't usually into blondes though.

You shared the same table as him for Potions. Slytherin and Gryffindor were mixed in this class and you had a feeling Slughorn was regretting this fact as the term trudged along. Jacob was not what you expected. He was one of the more quiet ones, if you squinted he reminded you a bit of Peter. Demeanor wise at least. Jacob's kind eyes found it hard to look straight at yours as he caught you after class, you wouldn't have heard him calling you if he hadn't been in front of you. You could feel Sirius's eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he wanted at the classroom's door while you talked with the tall boy. You opted to ignore him as you listened to Jacob stutter out how he'd be delighted if you would be up for going to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday. You didn't need to say yes though,

You did.

His tall stature, golden blond hair, and tanned skin quite contrasted not only your dear friend Peter but a certain boy you were trying painfully hard not to think about. Jacob was quiet and kind, with a knack for exploding whatever was brewing in his cauldron often. But when you met up with him at Hogsmeade, the frigid February air bitting your cheeks, it was like he had come loose, his usually tense demeanor relaxed and warm. He complimented your outfit quite thoughtfully too.

You wondered if Sirius would like it too.

"Did you hear me Y/N?" You blinked, fuck.

"Merlin no, I'm sorry Jacob I got distracted," he lightly chuckled at the apologetic twist in your face "The frills y'know?" you said with a circular motion of your hand. The boy couldn't help but laugh.

"I was just asking if you liked your dessert, you've barely touched it" his lips spread into a small smile as you glanced at the abandoned oversugared pastry sitting in front of you. It wasn't bad, but much like this place, the cloying taste was sticking to your gums.

"No, I did! But maybe we should've shared it I feel like I'm going to go into a diabetic coma," you let out a laugh, standing up, prompting him to do the same. "Do you want to maybe go for a walk?"

His lips split into a wide smile as he dropped the change of galleons onto the table.

"You're a blessing, let's go,"

Maybe this would go better than you had thought.

-

"So?" James wiggled his eyebrows, throwing a look over his shoulder briefly, catching a certain Slytherin staring from the other side of the hall. Jacob turned as red as the Gryffindor table runner. "How was your date with the shy lad over there?"

James could feel Sirius glaring at him from his spot next to you. He hadn't left your side since you came back, an easy smile on your face much to his dismay. You had come just in time for dinner, meeting the boys as they came down.

"it was really good," a smile broke on your face, your hand still felt warm with the ghost of Jacob's. You couldn't help but contrast this new boy and Sirius. The way he asked to hold your hand, Sirius only ever threw his arm around your shoulders, the way he seemed sincere and upfront with his intentions, the way he complimented you at every turn. Genuinely too, his big brown eyes showing nothing but pure kindness.

You struggled to find a time Sirius had genuinely complimented you. One that wasn't from in between his sheets.

"Well don't just spill it all at once," You couldn't help but roll your eyes at James. Impatient fellow wasn't he?

"Well, he took me to Madam Puddifoot's" a collective groan came out of all the boys' mouths.

"So cheesy-" Peter laughed at the thought,

"He's a bloody wanker if you ask me, reject him while we're ahead," Sirius mumbled as he popped a grape into his mouth, regaining his failing appetite. You shook your head, cheeks tinted red. Of course, Sirius would say that. You couldn't even imagine him in that tea shop, much less even considering that you may have liked it. You couldn't help but frown. Although you had a good time, you secretly wished you were out with Sirius instead. You wished he'd compliment you, you wished he'd open the door for you and ask you your favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor bean. You wished he'd hold your hand, you wished he'd kiss your cheek as you said goodbyes. You wished he liked you enough to be bashful at the thought of asking you out.

You wished Sirius would just ask you out.

"Well, I'll have you know I quite enjoyed it," Sirius suddenly didn't feel hungry again, pushing his plate away. "after the abusively sweet dessert caught up with me, we went for a walk," Remus couldn't help but push the plate of food back in front of Sirius, giving him a pointed look.

"We talked a whole lot, he asked me stuff I don't think anyone has ever asked about me before like really detailed stuff," you couldn't help but pause as you thought about it, his interest in the things you liked, your favorite quidditch team, what you thought of your divination class.

"He asked to hold my hand-"

"Who the hell does that?" you failed to notice the kick James sent into Sirius's shins. He kicked back.

"I just haven't had a good time like that in a while, he was so genuine" James and Peter smiled widely, Remus slowly breaking into a smile as well as they all stared at your face. It was obvious you were happy, the way you hadn't stopped repressing a smile, the small bite of your lip as you thought about it more.

James wasn't going to let Sirius ruin it. As Sirius opened his mouth to speak James stepped on his foot as hard as he could.

"We are all very happy it went well," Sirius let out through the pain, and immediately James took back his foot.

"Thanks, Black," you hadn't called him that in ages. Sirius felt his heart clench, as well as his throat. He'd prefer if James stepped on him again.

You didn't last much longer at the Great Hall, waving them goodbye as you went up with Lily and Mary, spilling all the details to them as well.

"You're the bloody wanker Padfoot," James hissed, Sirius rolled his eyes as he pushed his plate of food away. Remus rolled his eyes too. It was like they were taking care of a child at this point.

Sirius stayed quiet, as he rested his cheek on his hand. Eyes looking for the blond on the far side of the Great Hall. He still didn't know which house to look in.

"Don't do anything to the poor boy" Remus frowned, Sirius always had something to bite back with. Always some quip, some remark. But he stayed silent.

Sirius stared blankly at Remus. He didn't know why. But the truth was that he wanted to beat the boy to a pulp. He didn't have a reason. You weren't his, he made sure of that. The kilometer-long distance he put between you and his heart. He didn't have any reason to be jealous, it wasn't his place. There had to be something wrong with the guy.

When he broke your heart you'd run back to Sirius.

-

Sirius didn't care. He didn't care that he could hear your giggles from the other side of the potions classroom as you helped the blond boy. He didn't care that you had disappeared the last two weekends to hang out with him. He heard from Remus you were trying to teach him how to fly. Imbecile.

He didn't care that he hadn't kissed you in two and a half weeks. Not since the day the boy had asked you out. Sirius Black was perfectly fine and did not at all care that you ran to hug Jacob after your latest victory. The boy had been waiting for you at the changing room's door even if it had been a win against his own house. Leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the pitch, being dragged inside by James. Sirius didn't care that you were missing from the victory party thrown later that night. He saw your names floating together on the map, they mocked him as he tried to swallow the knot at his throat. The rest of the night felt like a blur, like the entire world flew around him and he remained still.

In the two weeks since the date, you had drifted so far from his grasp. He missed the smell of your hair, you always smelled vaguely of vanilla. It was spicy and intoxicating and he could never get enough of it. He missed your laughter when he made some stupid joke. He missed having you in his arms. He missed how soft and supple your skin was. He missed the way your lips would curl up in a smirk when he said something vaguely snarky, or when they roped you into some scheme that would definitely land the lot of you in detention. The way you rambled on about constellations and everything else that crossed your mind when you sat at the top of the astronomy tower. The way you would rip away the occasional cigarette from his mouth, talking about these not being the muggle habits he should be picking up, you'd always take a quick drag before putting it out.

He didn't care that he felt a pit at the bottom of his stomach for two weeks.

"Do you think he'll ask me to be his girlfriend?" you felt juvenile even asking, your words had been barely a whisper, they hung heavy in the common room as Lily, Alice, and Frank as well as the marauders all lounged around. It was fairly late, so the place lay otherwise empty. Your arms hugged your legs as you sat in the far corner of the couch, staring directly into the fire not wanting to see anyone's face. You usually were overjoyed at spending time like this, with all of your friends. Alice and Frank's relationship had brought the girls closer to the marauders as Frank was already a close friend. You no longer had to divide your time between your friends and James got to be around Lily.

James was delighted, of course, patting Frank's back with an I knew we were friends for a reason Frankie dear, the first time the girls stuck around to hang out.

But you had felt a tension lately, even with Lily and the rest of the girls. Like they were hesitant about your blooming relationship. Like they all knew something you didn't. Like they were waiting for some other shoe to drop. The smiles Lily shot your way as you talked about the boy and how well he treated you, were the same type of smile she used to give Marlene when she was delusional about some girl last term and didn't have the heart to tell her. James looked at you like you might break any minute, nervous to speak about your romantic affair. Sirius was completely avoiding you. You were scared you were reading too much into the compliments, into the attention you were receiving.

The tension came to a close when James spoke, his body was taking up 90% of the couch you were on, and he lay on his side. You knew his eyes stared into Lily's curled form. His foot poked yours as he spoke lowly,

"What makes you think he wouldn't?"

"Well-"

"None of that," Alice spoke up from Frank's arms on the opposite couch. He slowly fed jellybeans into her mouth as she spoke, the varying flavors making her face scrunch up every so often. "you're so lovely, and if he can't see that and commit then I'll blast him to hell myself," Lily hummed in agreement from her spot on one of the armchairs, sleep tugging at her eyelids.

"Cheers to that," Sirius spoke from his spot on the carpet, spread like a starfish in front of the fire. James wanted to kick his head in the fire. Sirius would probably welcome it at this point. He felt a knot form in his throat at your words.

Peter snored from the armchair next to Lily's.

"There's no reason to think he won't Y/N," Remus said softly from his spot also on the floor, his back resting on the front of the sofa seat, directly in front of you. You carded your fingers through his hair, and he shot you a small smile. You felt pathetic. You stared into the fire.

It wasn't as if Jacob hadn't been clear. He was really into you, and every second that he was free he'd find an excuse to be around you. Even when his housemates looked at him like he was mad. You felt a swirl of emotions clawing at your throat, almost to the point that you couldn't breathe. You wondered what Sirius thought. You hadn't talked in so long.

You almost felt bad at taking every ounce of attention Jacob gave you, you felt terrible. Like you were using him. Godric were you using him?

Were you using this poor boy to get over Sirius?

No! you liked him, he was kind and he never smirked nor got under your skin. He didn't laugh at you or drive you up the wall with his winks and smirks. He was nice and kind. He was kind yes. Probably what you liked best, one of his best qualities. And let's not forget how agreeable his face was, his strong features and dirty blond hair. And his parents were Americans! You didn't hear that often…

You thought back to December. When Sirius read to you in French, with your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The grounds had been covered in white, cold seeping in through the windows. The words on the page, although foreign to you, rolled off his tongue with ease. Sirius had joked that this would be your Christmas present. He chuckled as you covered your face when he took out a little red box from his bedside table.

You fiddled with the thin golden bracelet he gave you that Christmas.

You felt like you were fighting back tears.

-

"Thought you'd be in love and giggling on some corner of the castle," Your feet dangled from the top of the astronomy tower, and although the security of the metal bars made sure you weren't going to fall, the lack of ground under your feet made you feel at the mercy of the air. Your fingerless gloves did little to stop the biting cold and your fingertips looked pale but you moved them nevertheless, taking the lit cigarette out of your mouth. Your large jacket and the sweater you had stolen from their dorm helped a bit, but you had sat unmoving for a good thirty minutes. You briefly thought of a professor finding you frozen in place the next morning. "I also remember you saying we shouldn't be picking these habits up hm?"

Sirius sat on the floor next to you, feet also dangling through the metal bars. His own jacket was zipped up to the top and the black leather material shone under the light of the moon. This was a different jacket from the one he used when he rode around on his stupid muggle motorbike. It was big and the leather looked soft and worn. His pajama bottoms couldn't be providing him with enough heat though… That wasn't really your problem, was it?

He took the cigarette from your fingers taking a drag.

"Not like you ever listen to me Black,"

"I hate it when you call me that," Sirius passed it back to you, his voice low. The cloud emanating from your lips turned and mixed with Sirius's in front of you. The crescent moon highlighted the swirls of smoke dancing in the air.

"And I hate smoking-"

"Then why are we here?" He hummed as he took the cigarette from you, taking another drag and putting it out on the side of the tower.

"Why are you here?" for the first time since he had arrived you turned to look at him. He did not turn to look back. His side profile was enviable. His defined nose, the plump lips, the way his pearly pale skin contrasted against his coal black hair. It was shorter than usual. His mom had maimed his hair during the two days he passed in his household during Christmas. He was trying desperately to grow it out again. The moon seemed to make him almost black and white. It was like watching a monochromatic film, and you were hooked on it.

You thought of the brown tinge his hair had during the summer months.

"Get bored of the blond yet?" you scoffed, taking out the pack of Player's No 6 cigarettes from your jacket pocket.

"He has a name, not that it matters to you" The ribs of the wheel on the lighter scratched at your thumb as you flicked it quickly, but the flickering warmth made your thumb feel like it was finally shedding a layer of ice. You lit your second cigarette of the night.

You really did hate smoking. You didn't answer his question.

Sirius moved his hand to take the cigarette from your mouth, as you let out the smoke. You moved his hand away, offering the pack instead.

He took the container in his hand and chucked it through the air. You watched with wide eyes as it disappeared through the air, the shadow of night covering whatever hint of where they may have landed. He took the cigarette from your lips and took a drag.

"What is up your ass Black?" you snarled at him, you felt your lips quiver as he finally looked at you one of his insufferable smirks on his face.

"You shouldn't be smoking love, it ain't good for ya," he took another drag and offered you the cigarette once again.

You felt like you were going to blow a fuse. You brought your legs back from the brink, tucking them in and using the bars as leverage to swing yourself up. Your fingers clutched the lighter in your pocket tightly. Sirius stared at the spot you had been sitting at.

"You're such a prick Sirius Black," he finally turned to look at you "You can never let me be happy, you won't even let me have my cigarettes,"

"come on love-" you scoffed, you could feel the hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"Dont 'love' me, you're so selfish" You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising as he took a deep breath in surprise. "go find yourself someone else to satisfy your needs, you will not keep me in this vicious loop any longer,"

You made to leave but turned back "His name is Jacob by the way, and I am not in love with him but he doesn't make me cry Sirius," he could see the trail of tears down your cheeks, the glow of the moon reflecting off of them. It was like you were crying starlight. He had never hated his name falling from your lips more than he did this moment.

"And that's all you do," he felt the bile crawling up his throat,

"You make me cry."

[katstarry]

no one noticed | take our time

eddie munson x reader

part ii

masterlist ☆

part i | part iii

summary: you and eddie grow closer when eddie invites you to hangout outside of school.

warnings: fluff, pining, the upside down doesn’t exist here! a slow burn apparently, reader is introverted kinda

a/n: my obsession with him comes and goes but whenever it comes back IT COMES BACK HARDD 😭 it’s been a week of it consuming me again, i need more content of eddie! (robin & reader are very birds of a feather coded in my head)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

you rush over to where robin is seated, not bothering to get in line for food. you’ll go later.

“i’m going crazy.” is what you say as soon as you reach her, interrupting what she was about to say, her mouth agape.

an amused expression covers her features, “oh? and why exactly, are you going crazy?” she leans closer to you, a knowing look in her eye.

you take a seat beside her, your back to eddie’s table.

“we got paired up for a project in history class.” is all you say as you steal a cold french fry from her tray.

“hey!” she swats your hand away, but she’s too late, “paired up, huh? i bet you’re thrilled!” she smiles over at you.

you groan and put your face in your hands.

“it wasn’t so bad, honestly. it was pretty fun. i didn’t make a fool of myself.” your words were muffled in between your hands, “…at least i hope not.” you say, facing your friend once again.

she laughs at your distress, “oh c’mon! you should be happy that you finally have an excuse to talk to him!”

“it’s not funny, robin! how am i going to survive this? oh my god, robin.” you look at her smiling, you know that you’re being dramatic. but besides your nerves, you are pretty excited to finally be talking to eddie.

“what?” she raises her eyebrows at you, eating her fries.

“he’s so dreamy.”

robin gags, “gross.”

you nudge her shoulder laughing, “oh please! maybe you’re right. i should just be happy about this. he was pretty nice.” you look at her and sigh dramatically, “it was pretty nice.”

“you’re hopeless.”

“you’re supposed to be hyping me up right now! i finally talked to my crush.”

“yeah, and i still can’t believe it only took you being partners for it to happen. by force.” she laughs when you pout.

“okay, okay! yes, of course i’ll hype you up. he’ll totally ask you out, though. i bet he’s thinking of you right now, planning how to do it. actually, he’s planning your marriage as we speak.”

“okay. let’s not get too crazy now.” you laugh, moving to stand to finally get in line for some food, but blushing at the thought nonetheless.

robin rolls your eyes at you, “you are too far gone.”

you steal one last fry from her before leaving, hearing a faint “oh c’mon!” behind you.

standing in line, you see the same girl from your history class in front of you, elizabeth? you think her name is?

she turns around, “oh, hey!”

“hey, elizabeth, right?”

“yes! you’re y/n? right?”

you smile, “yeah, we have history together.”

“right! i hope this project is over with quickly, i got stuck with byers,” she glanced at a table, “but it can’t be as bad as munson.”

you were taken aback, you knew what other people thought of him, but being outright rude is crazy.

“oh! eddie’s a great partner, honestly… we spent the class coming up with ideas. jonathan’s really nice too, i’ve helped him take some photos before for the yearbook.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, “hm. hopefully he won’t bring your grade down.”

you feel uneasy now, what’s her problem? do these people even give eddie a chance and actually talk to him?

“i doubt it, he seemed pretty excited.”

she laughs, “that’s because a girl is finally giving him some attention.”

“no, it’s because we’re working on a project together. and i dunno, i don’t talk trash about him?” you state, plainly, giving her an unamused look, not interested in continuing the conversation.

“wow, didn’t know you could even talk that much. that’s the most i’ve ever heard you speak!” she tilts her head at you mockingly, clearly you’ve upset her.

you don’t answer her, “could you move up? the lines moving.” avoiding her taunting gaze.

you see her roll her eyes from your peripheral, and she finally turns back around.

letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, you finally make it to the food. mood ruined. why are people so mean. you’re starving. at least they’re serving your favorite today, chicken nuggets and fries. such an amazing meal, the best school food gets.

walking back to robin you catch a glimpse of eddie, he’s making another dramatic display. you don’t catch what he’s saying, since he stops his rant as you’re about to walk by, where he happens to be walking.

he bows dramatically, giving you room to walk around him, “my apologies, madame.” he smiles at you.

you shake your head laughing, “thank you, sir.”

you sit beside robin once again.

“finally! you’re back. it’s been too long! we’re finally reunited.” robin gives you a dramatic side hug.

“i know, sorry! i was held up by a troll. asked me to solve a riddle, couldn’t figure it out.”

she laughs, “oh yeah? how’d you make your away around it?”

“i ate it.” you deadpan, opening your pack of ketchup.

you finally turn to look over at her, both of you burst out laughing.

as you eat, you explain to robin your conversation with elizabeth.

“what an asshole.” she says as you both stand to throw away your trash and put away your trays.

“i know right!” you shake your head, putting your tray away.

“i just don’t understand why it bothers people so much if people don’t talk. like, hello! maybe they just don’t want to talk to you?” she says, “or- or, like why it bothers people so much that people are different from them, in general? the times i’ve occasionally spoken with eddie, he seemed pretty chill.” she raises her hands in exasperation.

“right? i don’t get it either.” you sigh.

walking out the cafeteria you join robin by her locker, before going to your own, where she accompanies you as well, and grab what you need.

“see you at dismissal?” you say.

“yup! i don’t have practice today, steve’s gonna pick me up. i got a shift after school today.” she gives you a fist bump before going on her way to class.

it’s finally the end of the day.

you can finally take that nap.

you make your way to your locker, leaving your books.

by the door on your way out you see robin, “we’re free!” she exclaims.

she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “let’s get outta here.” you say.

“what do you plan to do? while i’m away at family video, locked inside there, along with an annoying dingus, with no other choice but to do work?” she lets out an exasperated breath, looking over to you.

“i was planning on taking a nap.”

“fun!” she says, with fake enthusiasm. “was kinda hoping for a, ‘i’ll come by and see you, of course! you’re my bestest friend! i won’t let you suffer alone!’ but i see now how much you truly care about me.”

you laugh, “i’ll come by to see you, robs.” making your way to your car, steve isn’t here yet, so robin walks with you.

“really?” she says hopefully.

“yeah, after i take my nap.” you say, looking straight ahead.

“oh c’mon! your naps always last, like, forever!” she whines.

“it won’t be that long this time!” you look at her, and she looks at you.

“okay maybe it will be.”

she shakes her head as you reach your car, leaning onto it.

“you and your fucked sleep schedule.”

“it’s me and my crap sleep schedule against the world.”

“hey, i thought it was you and me against the world!”

you were too busy bantering with robin that you didn’t realize eddie walking up behind you.

he was looking for you in the hallways, even stopped by your locker. he was working up his courage all throughout lunchtime, and his last classes.

“y/n! wait!” he calls out your name, jogging to reach you.

you stop what you were about to say, staring at robin.

seeing her light up, a smirk appearing on her face.

turning your head, you’re met with eddie, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“eddie?”

“yeah, hey. it’s me. givemeasec.” he breathes out, before standing upright again.

“hello.” he turns to robin, “and hello.” he nods his head to her.

“hey.” she looks behind him and looks back at you, “oh would you look at that? my rides here! i’ll call you later y/n! bye!” she leaves before you can even respond. you look at the direction she ran, steve’s not even here yet.

eddie turns back to face you, also looking confused by robin’s sudden disappearance.

“s’that usually happen?” he has an amused look on his face.

you shake your head, “no.”

“ah well- uh anyway. i wanna ask you something.”

oh? okay. cool. he wants to ask you something.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he looks at you.

“okay.. you can ask me anything, eddie.”

“right! shit, uh. i was wondering, are you doing anything? later?” he sees your panicked look, he backtracks, “i mean to, y’know, work on the project.” nice save.

ah. you hide your disappointment, “oh, yeah sure. i’m not doing anything today.” oh robin’s gonna be pissed that you canceled your nap for this and not see her at work.

“okay, cool. uhh where do you wanna meet? i mean, we could go to my place? or if not that’s cool too we could go to the library or something. dunno.” he kicks a loose pebble in the parking lot, messing with his rings. cute.

“your place is fine. i could just follow right behind you,” you jiggle your keys in-front of you, “i gotta call my mom first though, let her know.” you flush, “uh, where is your place?” you ask, knowing your mom would want to know.

“it’s uh the forest hills trailer park.” he continues to fiddle with his rings, looking at you now.

“right, i know where that is. let me just ring her real quick, yeah? i’ll be right back!” you head towards the telephones outside the school, call your mom and assure her it’s just for a project and that you won’t take that long.

you head back to your car, seeing eddie still standing nearby.

“all good?” he says, smiling.

“yeah, let’s go.” you smile back.

on your drive there you realize what exactly you’re doing.

your going to eddie’s place.

you’re freaking out.

it’s okay, that’s cool. it’s just for the project. you have your notebook in your book bag still. you have your notes.

entering the trailer park and parking beside his van, you mentally prepare yourself. oh god, you’re going into his home.

breathe! you still can’t even believe your mom let you come over in the first place, to a boys place.

seeing eddie get out his van, you get out your car with your bag and stand awkwardly as you wait for him.

“this way, madame.” he says, walking ahead of you and up to the trailer. grabbing his keys from his pocket, he opens the door and lets you in first.

“welcome to my paradise.” he walks in after you, shutting the door behind him.

you look around the small living room. it’s cozy, comfortable, it feels homey. you gently place your bag on the couch.

“it’s a nice place eddie.”

he laughs and turns away, heading to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to lie.”

“i’m not lying.” you say, genuinely. “i used to live in a trailer too.”

he looks up, grabbing two cups. “really?”

you nod, “best years of my life, honestly. we moved to our current house when i was about,” you look up in thought, “7? 8? maybe?” you head over to where eddie stood.

he hums in acknowledgment. “didn’t know that.”

you shrug, “never really talked about it, not a big deal really.”

looking at you, he asks “would you like some water? soda? you can take a seat y’know.” he smiles over at you as he heads to the fridge.

taking a seat at one of the chairs at the table you answer, “hmm, what soda do you have?”

“uhh.. let me see.” he moves things around, “got some pepsi, sprite, coke..”

“i’ll take some coke, please.”

“comin’ right up, sweetheart.”

your brain nearly explodes.

oh you’re definitely calling robin after this.

he comes back to you with two cans of coke for the both of you.

“thank you. what a wonderful host.” you smile at him as he pulls out the chair beside yours and sits in it.

“you’re welcome.” he laughs.

“right.. so..” you open your can, “the project?”

a brief look of confusion crosses eddie’s face. right. the project.

he clears his throat, “yeah, the project. um, i’ll be getting the stuff tomorrow.” he stepped out during lunch for a bit to sell and earn some more cash, thankfully he got enough for the materials for the poster board, they’re pretty affordable anyway.

“alright, cool! thank you for that, by the way. i wouldn’t of had minded buying it.”

he shakes his head, drinking from his can. “no, no. it’s fine. i don’t mind.”

you’re about to say something when he gives you a look, “fine.” you huff in defeat.

“good.” he smiles, knowing he won.

“let me grab my notebook from my bag.” you get up and grab your book bag from the couch, unzipping it and looking for your notebook.

huh.

you look through it again, pulling out the ones you do have, double checking.

you can’t believe it. you literally have all your notebooks, except your history one. you sigh frustratedly, zipping your bag back up and heading back towards the kitchen, empty handed.

“couldn’t find it?”

“couldn’t find it.” you continue to stand, “sorry.”

“nah, it’s fine. uh.” he looks at his watch, “hasn’t been that long, if you, maybe wanna stay for a bit longer?” he taps on his can, please say yes.

you keep your excitement at bay, trying to remain cool.

“yeah, that’d be cool.” nice. super cool.

“cool.”

you sit back down, “so..” you smile, looking down at your can of coke.

“soo….” he mimicks.

“i wanted to let you know, about me calling my mom, it isn’t because i don’t trust you, i swear. she just likes knowing where i am, she worries.” you look at him.

“it’s all good. don’t worry ‘bout it.” though he does look as though he feels more comfortable now, “you get used to it.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

he shrugs, changing the subject, “nice that your mom’s protective of you though.”

you laugh, “not as much as my dad though.”

“really? what’s he like?” he tilts his head at you, asking in genuine curiosity.

“well.. i’m the only girl. so you could imagine how protective he can be. he’s not like, controlling, but he’s just a bit strict. curfews and stuff like that.”

“hmm. you have siblings, then? brothers?”

“yeah,” you smile, “three actually. 2 older brothers and one younger. my older brothers moved out already though, but they visit frequently.. do you have any?”

“me? nah, no, i don’t. only son.”

you nod your head.

“live here with my uncle wayne, actually.” he moves his gaze back down to the table, “he works at the factory most days, ‘s why he’s not here right now.”

“oh cool, my dad used to work there too.”

“what’s he work in now?”

“construction. he’s out of the city on the weekdays, comes home on weekends. though sometimes he doesn’t come for a few weeks if the job is too far away.”

this is the most you’ve told someone about yourself, other than robin, in just a day.

you’re really going crazy.

“that’s cool-” he tries to find a way to lighten the mood after seeing your expression, but accidentally lets out a loud burp.

you laugh and he smiles.

“‘scuse me.” he laughs, covering his mouth.

“i lived with my brothers, trust me, you’re all good.” still laughing.

“what’s your uncle like?”

he goes on to talk about his uncle wayne, the conversation goes smoothly. you feel at ease with eddie’s jokes and banter, it’s an automatic click. a rare thing for you to come by, you hope this is the first of many hangouts. you realize that your closest friends are the complete opposite of you—robin, who can somehow make a conversation not boring, always including you with her other friends and makes you be apart of the conversation. it’s the same with eddie, how do they do it? it must be a superpower, or something.

you finish laughing after a story he had been telling you involving his friends from hellfire when you speak up, “could you tell me the time?”

he looks down at his watch, “uhh, it’s about to be 7 o’clock,” looking at you through his bangs, “tryna ditch me, sweetheart?”

dramatically grabbing at his chest, he says “i’m wounded.” and nearly falls out his chair.

“definitely. yeah, i can’t wait to get outta here.” you reply sarcastically, “i do have to go though.” you sigh.

“i had a lot of fun.”

he crosses his arms and smiles. “as did i.”

you get up from the chair, eddie does too and walks to the couch, grabbing your bag and handing it to you once you reach him. “thanks.”

he opens the door for you and walks you to your car, “we should uh, do this again sometime. hangout..” he scratches his neck, looking around before looking at you once again.

“i’d love to!” you twirl your keys in your hand.

“cool! can’t wait.” he clears his throat. “see you tomorrow? at school?”

“see you, eddie.” you smile over at him when you open your car door, getting in and closing it.

you can’t stop smiling on your drive home, you just hung out with your crush. you’re friends with your crush now.

right as you get home and talk to your mom, you immediately call robin spending another few hours talking to her.

you go to sleep that night feeling happy, and you can’t wait for the next day to come.

[mssalo]

safety - Part: IV

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of war and combat-related trauma, Emotional manipulation, Power dynamics, Noncon/dubcon elements, Unstable mental state, Reader feeling conflicted, Explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, oral (both giving and receiving), rough sex, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, Dom/sub dynamics, Joel’s possessiveness, Breeding kink, refusal to pull out, Overstimulation. Joel shall get therapy soon.

11k, Smut.

Enjoy!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of his house, the engine cutting out abruptly. His grip on the steering wheel remained tight, knuckles white with tension.

His eyes scanned the perimeter, darting from the treeline to the empty yard, searching for any sign of danger.

They were still out there.

They had to be. He’d seen them—felt them lurking, waiting.

“They’re here for you,” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky.

His mind raced, replaying every shadow, every phantom figure he’d seen darting between the trees back at camp. The thought made his chest tighten, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t let them take you.

Not now. Not ever.

“Joel,” your soft voice broke through the fog, but it didn’t ground him like it normally would.

He turned to you, eyes wide and wild, still scanning the darkness around them. He was sure they were close.

Too close.

“We need to get inside,” he rasped, gripping your arm a little too tightly. “They’re still out there.”

Without waiting for your reply, he stepped out of the truck and moved to your side, yanking the door open and pulling you out with a desperate grip.

His hand never left your arm as he ushered you up the steps and into the house, his eyes still flicking over his shoulder, double-checking that you're aren't being followed.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut and bolted it, his chest heaving as he stood there, back pressed against the door like it was the only thing holding him upright.

“Joel…” you began, your voice gentle, as if speaking too loudly might set him off. “There’s no one out there.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes still wide and searching, scanning the dark corners of the room, still expecting the worst.

His breath came out in heavy, uneven bursts, his body still coiled tight with fear.

“I’m okay,” you said again, this time placing your hand gently on his chest, trying to pull him back to you.

“You saved me, Joel. You got me out. I’m safe now.”

But he couldn’t hear you. His mind was still trapped in the nightmare, the vivid images of shadows lurking, of something coming for you.

It was like he was back in the thick of it—in the chaos, where he couldn’t control anything.

“They’ll come back,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “They always come back.”

You shook your head, moving closer to him, your hand still pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath.

“No one’s coming for me, Joel. It’s just us. We’re safe now.”

He turned to you, finally meeting your eyes, but his face was still tight with panic. “You don’t know that,” he said, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand… what’s out there.”

His grip on your arm tightened again, his fear morphing into something darker, something possessive.

He pulled you closer, his hand slipping to the small of your back, holding you against him as if the proximity alone could keep you safe.

“I’m not letting them take you,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

Your heart ached at the desperation in his voice, at the raw terror he was fighting to keep at bay. He wasn’t just afraid for you—he was afraid of failing you, of losing you to something he couldn’t stop.

His trauma had wrapped itself around him, choking him, blinding him to the fact that you were alone. That there was no danger but the one inside his mind.

“I’m okay,” you repeated softly, your arms slowly wrapping around him in return. “You did it, Joel. You saved me. We’re safe.”

He was trembling now, his body pressed against yours in a way that felt more desperate than protective. He buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, like he was trying to hold back a flood of emotion.

He tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of your body against his to believe that you were still there, that you were real. “I wasn’t fast enough… last time.”

You stroked the back of his neck gently, your own heart pounding, trying to steady him, to bring him back to you. “You were fast enough this time. You got me out. You saved me.”

Joel’s breathing was uneven as he held you close, his face buried against the crook of your neck.

The scent of you—soft and sweet—seeped into his senses, grounding him in a way that nothing else had in years.

His chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, but the panic slowly started to ebb, replaced by something darker, something far more possessive. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent fill his lungs, chasing away the chaos in his mind.

You murmured softly, your voice a gentle lull in the storm. “You got me out. You saved me.”

Your words washed over him like a balm, but they weren’t enough. Not this time. He needed more than words. He needed to feel you—to hold onto something real, something tangible that would keep him from slipping back into the dark.

His lips brushed against your neck, a desperate, aching need driving him. "I need to feel something real."

You stiffened slightly in his arms, your breath catching as his mouth moved along your skin, soft at first but growing more insistent. Your heart pounded, torn between fear and something you couldn't quite place.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips continued to travel down your neck, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

He pressed harder, kissing your neck with a hunger that bordered on desperation. His teeth grazed your skin, and a shiver ran through you, a strange mix of fear and guilt knotting in your stomach.

"Joel…" you whispered, your voice trembling. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure how to stop him without setting him off again.

But he didn’t stop.

His hands roamed over your back, gripping you tighter, as if he was terrified you would slip away.

"I need this," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I need you."

Your pulse quickened, the tension between you thick and suffocating.

You should pull away, you knew that.

Something about this didn’t feel right. But you didn’t move. You stayed there, your breath shaky as his lips continued to trace over your neck, his hands pressing you closer still.

You felt bad for wanting to pull away. He was hurting, and you could feel it in the way he clung to you. He needed something from you—something real to hold onto. But the weight of his desire was overwhelming, pressing down on you, making your heart race with something that wasn’t entirely fear… but wasn’t entirely comfort, either.

“Joel, I—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he silenced you with a soft growl, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice dark, heavy with emotion. "Don't say anything. Just… let me feel you."

His breath was hot against your skin, and you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted, a shiver running down your spine. Part of you was scared—scared of how far this might go, scared of how much control he was losing. But part of you felt something else.

Something that made you stay rooted to the spot, letting him take what he needed, even though you weren’t sure you should.

And Joel… Joel wasn’t letting go. He needed you more than ever now, and that desperate, consuming need was spiraling out of control.

A shiver ran through you, and you couldn’t help the way your body tensed under his hold. You had liked him before—all those glances, those quiet moments between you in the store. But this?

This was different. This wasn’t the Joel you’d seen before. He was someone else now, lost in whatever darkness had taken over.

"Joel," you whispered, trying to ground him, trying to bring him back. "… I’m okay."

But as the words left your mouth, you knew he wasn’t fully hearing you. Maybe this was what he needed to calm down, to feel like he was back in control.

Joel held you tight, his mind a tangled mess of emotions. You were speaking softly, trying to soothe him, telling him that you were okay, that he’d saved you. But the words barely made it through the fog in his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed you—that somehow, the danger wasn’t over yet.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered against your skin, his voice raw and broken. “You don’t understand how close I came to losing you. How close they were.”

You were the only thing that kept the demons at bay, and he needed you to stay. Needed you to hold onto him, to tell him he wasn’t losing his grip.

“Joel,” you whispered again, your voice trembling. “I’m okay. You don’t have to—”

But his grip only tightened, his breath coming out in heavy, ragged bursts. “Just let me touch you,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

He wasn’t going to stop.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want him to.

His hands roamed your back, sliding up under your shirt, his touch possessive, desperate. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, his breath hot and uneven as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“You’re mine to protect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Mine to keep safe.”

Your mind raced, torn between the fear of his intensity and the way your body responded to his touch.

You knew he wasn’t himself, that the trauma was pulling him under, but the heat of his body, the roughness of his hands, made it hard to think.

“I couldn’t save them,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his hands roamed over your body. “But I’ll save you. I swear it.”

He needed this—needed you—like you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

His grip was firm, almost desperate, as though he was afraid that if he let you go, you would vanish into the dark corners of his mind, swallowed by the dangers he imagined lurking just out of sight.

Then you tilted your chin up, your lips brushing lightly against his, and that soft contact undid him.

The second he kissed you, he felt the world steady beneath his feet. Your lips were soft, pliant, and the warmth of your mouth was a balm to the cold storm that raged inside him.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring everything into the kiss—the fear, the hunger, the overwhelming need to protect you, to claim you, to keep you close. His hands slid up, cradling your face gently as though you might slip away if he didn’t hold you just right.

The softness of your skin under his fingertips made him feel more human, more in control. His thumb brushed over the curve of your jaw, savoring how delicate you felt against his roughness.

You tasted like something familiar, something he didn’t realize he’d craved until now, and each press of your lips seemed to bring him closer to you, tethering him to something real, something that wasn’t his own spiraling thoughts.

He kissed you again, deeper, more insistent, needing to feel your softness against him, needing to lose himself in the comfort you provided. His mind raced, caught between the desire to protect and the hunger to possess, but as your lips moved with his, it all blurred together.

Protect. Keep. Claim. It didn’t matter.

You were soft, pliant, and here. You were real. And that, more than anything, made him feel like he could breathe again.

His breath grew ragged as his hands continued their journey over your body, each soft curve beneath his palms pulling him deeper into his need for you. You were everything he craved.

His lips pressed harder against yours, his mind clouded by the hunger building inside him.

He groaned softly as your body shifted against him, your hips brushing his, and he felt his cock throb, hard and insistent, pressed against you. The sensation sent a rush of heat through him, overwhelming the last of his restraint.

His grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

His hand slipped to the small of your back, pressing you against his hard cock growing between you.

His hands trembled slightly as he began to undo the buttons of your shirt, his breath uneven as his lips hovered close to yours. Joel’s fingers were rough against the soft fabric, but every movement was slow, deliberate.

Each button he undid revealed more of your skin, more of the warmth that anchored him. His hands moved to your shoulders, slipping the fabric of your shirt down your arms, exposing more of you to him.

His eyes darkened with hunger, but also with a fear that hadn’t quite faded.

“I need to see you,” he murmured, his voice thick, hoarse.

His lips found your collarbone, kissing the bare skin as his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans.

You exhaled softly, your hand moving to his chest as if to steady him, trying to reach him through the haze of his obsession.

His fingers fumbled with the button of your jeans, his need overwhelming his coordination, but you didn’t stop him.

He couldn’t stop himself.

His cock throbbed as he worked the fabric down your hips, revealing more of your softness, more of the body he needed to feel, to protect, to claim.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl as he pulled you closer, pressing your bare skin against him.

Joel’s lips found yours again, demanding, needy, while his hands roamed your body. His desire remained, cock throbbing with each touch, a reminder of how much he needed you—how much he needed to make sure you were his.

As Joel stepped back just enough to take you in, his breath caught in his throat.

You stood before him in nothing but your underwear, and it was like you’d stepped out of one of his dreams, a vision so perfect it almost didn’t seem real.

Your body—every curve, every soft line—drew his eyes with an almost painful intensity. Your breasts, full and round, strained against the lace of your bra, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring, his mouth dry at the sight.

The way your waist dipped beneath the fabric only accentuated the fullness of your hips, your ass curved and firm, begging to be touched. You were the embodiment of everything he’d ever desired, every fantasy he’d ever had, standing there, soft and vulnerable, but so utterly tempting it made his chest tighten with need.

You were both angelic and sensual, an impossible combination of sweet and sinful. Everything about you pulled at him—your softness, your curves, the way you seemed to fit so perfectly against him.

And as he looked at you, standing there in your delicate underwear, all he could think was how much he wanted you, needed you.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out any remaining slivers of rational thought. You were right there—so soft, so perfect, standing before him like you were made just for him.

And for the first time in so long, he felt the rush of control, the heady sense of finally being able to hold something real, something that wouldn’t slip away or explode in chaos like everything else in his life.

In the war, everything had been chaos, spiraling out of control no matter how much he fought it.

The blood, the noise, the way every second could change in an instant.But this moment, with you in front of him, was something he could hold onto, something he could control.

Without a word, his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your soft gasp against his neck sent a shockwave through his body as he held you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

The feel of you, warm and pliant against him, made the tension in his chest ease just enough to remind him how much he craved this—how much he needed this.

With you in his arms, he carried you toward the bedroom, his steps steady but filled with urgency.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your soft breaths hot against his ear, and every sound you made, every movement, only drove him closer to the edge.

The door to the bedroom came too slowly, his body buzzing with a need so intense he could barely think.

No one else. No chaos, no uncertainty—just you.

With a gentle but insistent movement, he laid you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You looked up at him, soft and breathless, and he felt the rush of power, of control, surge through him. Joel’s breath caught as he hovered over you, his hands roaming your body with reverence, as if he couldn’t believe you were really there beneath him, all softness and warmth.

He kissed your shoulder first, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger on your skin before trailing down to the curve of your collarbone. The taste of you, the way your body reacted to each kiss, was intoxicating.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. His breath was hot against your skin, and you felt every word like a promise.

He pressed his lips to your neck, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his mouth, the heat rising between you. “You have no idea, do you? What you do to me…”

He kissed you again, lower this time, letting his mouth explore the hollow of your throat, his hands tracing the curves of your hips. You let out a soft gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets as you arched slightly under his touch.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, his voice a little more hoarse. “I wanna hear you. Let me hear every damn sound you make.”

Your reaction only made him crave more, made him want to pull you further into this, to hear every gasp, every moan.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing lower, skimming the swell of your breasts, his hands sliding up your sides, feeling every inch of you. “Every part of you, just… perfect.”

You blushed deeply, the color rising in your cheeks, and Joel felt his chest tighten at the sight. That blush—it reminded him of the first time he saw you, when you’d looked at him with those big eyes, your cheeks flushing the same way. You’d been nervous then, shy and unsure. But now? Now, you were his, and that blush only made him want you more.

He loved how the pink in your cheeks spread down your neck, how you couldn’t hide your reactions from him. You turned your head slightly, trying to hide the embarrassment that came with his compliments, but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled softly, his fingers tipping your chin back toward him, forcing you to look at him. “I wanna see every damn reaction.”

He kissed your lips gently, then moved back to your skin, his breath heavy as he pressed his mouth to your throat. “So beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. To have you. All of you.”

His mouth continued its slow exploration, pressing kisses to your hips, your thighs, every part of you that he could reach. Your body responded to every touch, every kiss, your breath coming quicker, your fingers tightening in the sheets as you bit your lip.

“I can feel how much you want this,” he whispered, his voice dark and full of intent. “Don’t hold back. I want it all, I need it all.”

You let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering closed, and he couldn’t help but grin at your reaction.

“That’s it, baby… let go. Let me take care of you.”

His hand slid back up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin, that familiar blush that he loved so much.

Your breath hitched as Joel’s lips continued their slow journey down your body, each kiss more deliberate than the last. Your mind was spinning, and you knew you had to say something, even though your body responded instinctively to every touch, every kiss.

“Joel… maybe we should stop,” you murmured, your voice soft and uncertain, though your hands stayed tangled in his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to find the words as his kisses trailed lower, along your stomach, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’ve just… you’ve been stuck in an episode.”

Joel paused for a moment, his lips resting against your skin just above the waistband of your panties. His hands gripped your thighs gently, but firmly, holding you in place. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and the way he looked at you sent a wave of heat rushing through you.

“I ain’t stuck,” he said softly, his voice husky and full of need. “This ain’t an episode. I know exactly what I’m doin’.”

His lips pressed another kiss, lower now, right at the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the fabric, teasing you. “And I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this for too long to stop now.”

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as your hips instinctively shifted toward him, despite the doubt swirling in your mind. “Joel…”

But he was already moving, his lips brushing softly over your clothed pussy, the sensation both maddening and electrifying.

“I can see how much you want this too,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy as he pressed another kiss. “Don’t try to hide it.”

His breath was hot against you, and you could feel the gentle pressure as he kissed you through the thin fabric of your panties, a slow, deliberate motion that made you gasp.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his voice a low, possessive rumble as he pressed his mouth to you again, lingering a little longer this time. “You don’t need to say anything. Just let me make you feel good.”

“I need this… I need you.” His tongue flicked out, barely a hint, tracing the edge of you through the lace, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you arch slightly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your hands tightening in the sheets now as you tried to fight the pull of his touch. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

“Joel… maybe—” you started again, but your words trailed off as he kissed you again, more firmly this time, his tongue pressing slowly against the damp fabric, teasing you, tasting you.

His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he whispered against you, his voice dark with need. “Not when you taste this good. Not when I’ve been waitin’ this long.”

His tongue dragged over you again, slow and purposeful, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he tasted you.

“Been wantin’ this for so long… you have no idea.”

Every kiss, every lick made you forget the hesitation, made you want more. The way his mouth moved against you, the way he talked, his words low and rough with hunger, made your mind clouded with need.

“You’re all I need,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, his tongue flicking out again as he licked you through the panties, savoring the taste of you. “Let me take care of you. Just you and me, baby.”

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as Joel continued his slow, deliberate attention on your body. Every kiss, every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, making you tremble beneath his touch.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that kept slipping out, but the way he worked his mouth against your panties, teasing you relentlessly, made it impossible to stay quiet.

“Joel…” you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in the sheets, your body arching toward him as if you couldn’t stop yourself. “Oh god…”

Your hips bucked slightly as he applied more pressure, his mouth hot and persistent, licking you slowly through the lace, savoring every reaction you gave him.

The fabric was soaked now, your body betraying your desire, and you whimpered, the sound low and breathy, unable to stop the way you responded to him.

Then, suddenly, Joel pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering right over your heat.

For a moment, you thought he was going to stop, your body left aching for more, but instead, you felt him press his face against you, inhaling deeply, groaning as he took in your scent.

The sound he made was primal, raw, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck,” he growled against you, his voice thick with need and satisfaction. “Just like I remember.”

Your mind was still clouded by the intense pleasure, your breath coming in short bursts when his words broke through.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze, and managed a weak, breathless, “Huh?”

Joel’s lips curled into a dark grin as he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and intent.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a soft moan as he pressed his face into you again, groaning against you as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your body responded instinctively, your legs trembling, your hips pushing up toward him as your mind spun with a mix of pleasure and confusion.

“Joel…” you whimpered again, your voice barely a whisper, your body betraying you as it gave in completely to the sensations he was pulling from you.

Joel’s fingers moved with a slow, deliberate pace as he hooked them into the sides of your panties, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath caught, your body trembling beneath him, anticipation and uncertainty warring in your gaze.

But you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t.

Joel's breath grew heavier as his fingers slowly slid beneath the waistband of your panties, his touch deliberate, savoring every moment. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips as he tugged them down, his eyes dark and hungry as he peeled the fabric away from your skin, inch by inch.

His lips followed the motion, kissing your thighs as he uncovered you, groaning deep in his throat when the lace finally slipped past your knees.

He paused for a moment, taking you in, his eyes raking over you - seeing you for the first time.

His breath was shaky, his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, holding you open for him. A deep, guttural sound escaped him, full of desire and need.

"Goddamn," he growled, his voice thick with hunger. "Look at you. So fuckin' beautiful. So perfect."

His eyes were glued to you, dark and primal, like he couldn’t get enough.

He leaned down, his breath warm against you as he inhaled deeply, groaning with satisfaction, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Fuckin’ heaven,” he muttered, the sound low and filled with filthy need. “You’re mine now, and I’m never lettin’ go.”

Then he dove in, his mouth pressing firmly against you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made you gasp out loud, your hips bucking toward him instinctively.

He groaned against you, the sound muffled by the way his tongue worked, feasting on you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

He didn’t hold back, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face deeper, his tongue circling and tasting you with relentless hunger.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned between breaths, his voice vibrating through your core. “Been waitin’ for this, darlin’, waitin’ to taste every inch of you.”

Your moans filled the room as his tongue worked you over, his lips sucking and licking with desperate need. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your hands gripping his hair as you arched against him, lost in the sensation of his mouth on you.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, devouring you with an intensity that made your toes curl, every filthy word he muttered against you sending you spiraling higher.

"You're mine," he rasped, his voice barely audible between licks, but the possessive tone was clear. "Only mine."

“Please…,” you whimpered, barely able to form the words between your gasps, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Joel’s hunger for you only seemed to grow the longer he tasted you, his need for you overwhelming any shred of restraint he had left.

Joel growled low in his throat as he pulled back for a moment, his breath ragged. He took a long look at you, lips glistening with your wetness, his eyes filled with a raw hunger that bordered on madness.

He couldn’t tear himself away from the sight of you, couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. You were too perfect, too soft, too sweet for him to ever get enough.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, his drawl thicker now, rough with need. His fingers slid between your soft pussy lips, spreading you open even wider. “Look at this pretty pussy… so fuckin’ perfect. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“So pretty, darlin’. Tastes so fuckin’ sweet.”

He lowered his head again, his mouth hovering just above you before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you slowly.

His groan was deep, guttural, vibrating through you as he buried his face between your legs once more.

“You taste so damn good,” he muttered between licks, his breath hot against your slick skin. “Sweetest thing I ever had.”

His lips found your clit, and he teased it with his tongue, swirling slow and deliberate, savoring your reactions. Then, without warning, he gently bit down, just enough to make you jolt.

You gasped loudly, your back arching, but the sharp sensation sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, mixing with the heat already burning between your legs.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t ya?” he growled, his voice rougher now, his breath heavy as he pulled your hips closer, holding you tightly against his mouth. “This pussy is mine… ain’t nobody ever gonna have you like this. I’ll make sure of it.”

He groaned again, licking you harder now, his tongue working over you with a maddening precision.

Every taste of you drove him wilder, his obsession growing as he lost himself completely in you. He licked you slowly, almost reverently, savoring every second before spitting on you again, watching it glisten on your wet folds.

“So wet, so ready. This pussy’s made for me. Tastes so good, darlin’, I can’t fuckin’ stop.” He leaned in again, his tongue dragging over you in long, slow strokes before diving deeper, licking you with a desperate hunger.

His mouth was relentless, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he feasted on you like a man starved. Joel groaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, and your moans filled the room as you writhed beneath him.

“You taste like heaven,” he muttered between kisses, dripping with lust. He flicked his tongue over your clit again, biting it gently, making you gasp and tremble under his touch. “Ain’t never tasted anything this good.”

His eyes were dark, fixed on the place where his mouth had been, like he couldn’t get enough. He spread your legs wider, admiring you, completely obsessed with every inch of your body laid out before him.

“Look at this pretty cunt,” he growled, his voice thick with that southern twang, filled with raw desire. “Goddamn, darlin’, you’re perfect down here. Prettiest little pussy I ever laid eyes on.”

He spat on your clit with a roughness that made you gasp, the slick wetness mixing with what was already there. His fingers followed, spreading the spit over your folds, rubbing it with slow, deliberate strokes.

Every movement was slow and teasing, designed to drive you insane, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers sliding over you, feeling how wet you were. “This pretty little clit, all swollen for me… You like it when I bite it, don’t ya? When I suck on this sweet clit?”

He groaned, the sound vibrating against you as his lips found your clit again.

This time, he sucked on it hard, his teeth grazing it just enough to send jolts of pleasure and pain through you. “Mm, yeah,” he grunted against you, his voice rough with lust. “This cunt tastes so goddamn good, baby“

He flicked his tongue over your clit, then bit down gently, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hips bucked up toward his mouth, your body responding to the way his tongue moved against you with relentless precision.

“That’s right, baby,” he drawled, his accent dripping through every word. “Let me taste all of ya. I wanna hear those pretty little moans while I eat this sweet cunt.”

He spat on you again, his hand rubbing it into your folds, his fingers working you while his mouth stayed focused on your clit.

He licked you from the bottom up, then focused on your clit again, sucking it hard, biting just enough to make you moan louder, your body trembling under his touch.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his breath hot against you as he looked up briefly, his eyes glazed with hunger. “Ain’t nothin’ in this world better than this pretty cunt.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, your voice shaking. “I’m close… I’m so close.”

At your words, he growled against you, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through you. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips wet and glistening as he flashed you a wicked grin.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasped, “Cum on my tongue, baby. I wanna taste all of it.”

Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit, sucking hard, his mouth working with a brutal rhythm.

His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh again and again, while his nose pressed against you, creating a delicious pressure that had your body trembling beneath him.

He could feel you tensing, your thighs shaking as your moans grew louder, more desperate.

“Come on, baby,” he growled, his voice muffled as he sucked harder, his lips locked around your clit. “Give it to me. Let me taste you.”

You cried out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

Your entire body shuddered, your hips grinding against his mouth as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you.

Joel didn’t let up for a second—his mouth stayed on you, sucking and licking, his tongue flicking over your clit even as you writhed beneath him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned against you, his voice dark and raw with hunger. “That’s it, darlin’. Cum for me. Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

He kept going, his mouth relentless as he devoured you, sucking every last bit of your release, not giving you a moment to catch your breath.

His tongue was rough, greedy, lapping up everything you gave him. His fingers gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to his mouth as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Gonna eat this pussy all night,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive, his mouth still working your overstimulated clit. “Ain’t no one else gets to taste you like this. Just me.”

Your legs trembled violently as another wave of pleasure surged through you, and your moans turned into soft, breathless whimpers.

But Joel didn’t stop. He was lost in you, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, the way you tasted, the way you shook and gasped beneath his touch.

He licked you again, slow and deliberate this time, savoring you as he pressed his face even deeper between your legs, his nose rubbing your sensitive clit with every movement.

“Can’t get enough of this pretty little cunt,” he murmured against you, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger. “You taste like heaven, baby. Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation becoming too much, every nerve ending in your body still buzzing from the intensity of your orgasm.

You gasped, your fingers clutching at his hair, trying to pull him away as his mouth continued its relentless assault on your sensitive flesh.

“Joel, please,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and shaky. “I can’t… it’s too much.”

But he didn’t stop. His lips pressed against you again, his tongue still moving, though slower now, savoring every inch of you.

He growled softly, his hands tightening around your hips as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go, his grip possessive and firm.

“You’re safe,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and filled with an intense need. “I’ll keep you safe… forever.”

His words came out in a low rasp, his lips brushing against your overstimulated clit as he spoke. It wasn’t just about pleasure for him anymore—it was about control, about grounding himself in the only thing that made sense to him now.

You were his safety, the only thing that kept the chaos in his mind at bay.

Your body flinched at the continued stimulation, but there was something in his voice, in the way he spoke to you, that made you pause. And despite the intensity, despite how overwhelmed you felt, you softened, your fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face gently.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you looked down at him. “I’m safe. You’ve got me, Joel.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark but filled with something deeper—something vulnerable. His grip on you loosened just a little, and he leaned up, pressing his forehead to your thigh as he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. I can’t… not after everything.”

You nodded, your body still sensitive, still trembling beneath him, but you understood. You knew what he was fighting, what he was trying to hold onto.

Your hands slid through his hair, soothing him, and for a moment, the intensity between you softened into something more gentle, something more real.

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible. “I’m yours, Joel. You’re keeping me safe.”

And with that, the tension in his body seemed to ease, just a little, as he pressed one last kiss to your thigh before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

He let his hands move to the clasp of your bra, fingers fumbling just a little as he unhooked it, and with slow, deliberate care, he slid the straps down your shoulders. His eyes were dark, full of hunger again, as the fabric finally slipped away, revealing you fully to him.

“Gotta have every inch of you,” he rasped, his voice heavy with desire. “You’re too fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.”

His words slurring with the weight of his obsession as he dropped the bra to the floor.

Joel’s gaze locked onto your breasts, and a deep, guttural groan escaped him, his hands moving immediately to cup them, his rough, calloused fingers brushing over your soft skin like he was savoring every inch.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with lust. “Look at these…”

His grip tightened slightly, his hands kneading your flesh as if testing the weight, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, already hard from his touch. His gaze darkened as he stared, completely mesmerized by the sight of you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, dipping his head down, lips brushing softly at first over your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts. He lingered there, his breath warm, and just when you thought he might hold back, he latched onto you, mouth hot and eager, sucking hard, his tongue swirling over your sensitive nipple.

Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest toward him, a gasp slipping from your lips. The way his mouth worked on you, the wet, sucking sound mixed with his groans, sent a rush of heat through you.

His other hand moved to squeeze your other breast, fingers teasing and pinching at your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“You like that, don’t ya?” Joel growled, his voice rough and gravelly against your skin. He sucked noisily on your breast, pulling more moans from you as his teeth grazed your nipple. “These perfect fuckin’ tits… they’re mine. All mine.”

His mouth moved from one nipple to the other, just as eager, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your flushed skin. He sucked hard, tugging gently with his teeth before biting down enough to send a sharp, pleasurable pain radiating through you. Your body jerked beneath him, but the way his lips wrapped around you, the way he sucked and licked—made it impossible to want him to stop.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly, his voice drunk with lust. “You taste so fuckin’ good. So soft… everything about you.”

His mouth didn’t leave your skin, trailing lower with a messy trail of kisses, but he stayed focused on your breasts, alternating between the two like he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered between kisses, his voice almost desperate now. “After everything… all that shit. I just need you. Nothing else.”

Your moans grew louder, your body trembling under his relentless attention. Every flick of his tongue, every bite of his teeth sent your mind spinning, your skin burning with the intensity of his need.

Joel’s breath hitched, the sound rough and needy as his hands roamed over your body, almost frantic now as if he couldn’t touch enough of you at once. His fingers trailed down, brushing over the curve of your hips, gripping tightly.

“I’m going to explode,” he growled, his voice strained with raw desire. “Can’t wait any longer. I need you now.”

His hands were rough, urgent, as they skimmed down your sides, over your hips, feeling every curve of your body. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t slow down, and it was driving him mad.

“Pull down my pants,” he ordered, his voice a low rasp, thick with need. His eyes burned into yours, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down your spine. “Do it, baby. Now.”

Your hands shook as you reached for his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, but you could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath heavy as he waited, every second sending his body into a deeper need.

You slid his jeans down slowly, the anticipation thick between you. As his boxers followed, his cock sprang free—hard, throbbing, already dripping with precum, the tip flushed and leaking. It was thick, veins running along its length, the sheer size of him making your breath catch.

Joel stood above you, completely exposed, his chest heaving, his cock twitching with the intensity of his need.

“You’re gonna thank me,” he said, his voice dark, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. “Thankful I saved you. Now show me.”

He took your hand, guiding it to his throbbing cock, his fingers curling around yours, urging you to touch him. As your hand wrapped around him, his breath hitched, his hips jerking slightly at the contact. The heat of him was overwhelming, his skin smooth but pulsing beneath your grip.

“Give it a kiss, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Show me how thankful you are. I saved you, didn’t I? You owe me that.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his, but the hunger in his gaze—his need—was too strong to resist. Slowly, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against the swollen tip of his cock. The taste of precum lingered on your tongue as a soft groan escaped Joel’s throat, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, dripping with lust. “That’s a good girl. Kiss it, baby. Show me how fuckin’ grateful you are.”

Your lips pressed soft kisses against him, working slowly along his length, and every touch made him groan deeper, his hips twitching as he craved more. The sight of you, your lips on him, drove him wild.

Joel’s grip tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with raw hunger as he gazed down at you.

“You’re thankful, aren’t you?” he rasped, his words rough and possessive. “I saved you… now make me feel it.”

Without hesitation, you let your tongue flick out, tracing the length of him, savoring the way his body reacted to every stroke, every touch. Joel’s head tipped back, his jaw clenched as a guttural groan escaped him.

“Fuck, yeah… that’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that, baby. Take your time.”

You worked him slowly, your tongue swirling over his length, feeling the heat of him pulsing beneath you. His body tensed, his grip in your hair tightening as he guided you, each movement pulling another growl from his chest.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble. “You know how to take care of me, don’t ya?”

His hips shifted, pushing slightly toward you as your mouth worked over him, your tongue teasing the underside of his cock, sending jolts of pleasure through him. The roughness of his words, the filthy way he talked, only made you want to take him deeper, to make him come undone.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with need. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this… makin’ me lose my goddamn mind.”

Your lips moved lower, teasing his balls with soft kisses, and the second your tongue flicked over them, Joel’s body tensed, his breath catching in his throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the reaction immediate, his body trembling. “Goddamn, darlin’…”

You worked slowly, your tongue exploring, teasing him with soft, wet licks, savoring the way his cock twitched above you, the precum leaking steadily now. The sight of him—hard, throbbing, desperate—only fueled your desire to take him further.

Your mouth moved over his balls, sucking them gently, your tongue swirling around them, coating them with warm, slick spit. Joel could barely contain himself, his hips jerking slightly, his cock pulsing.

“you’re so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, his voice strained, thick with lust. “Look at you, takin’ care of me like this…”

The wet sounds of your mouth sent shivers down his spine as you sucked harder, teasing him with your tongue.

“You’re gonna make me lose it,” Joel groaned, his breath ragged, his hand threading through your hair again. “So fuckin’ perfect…”

As you moved your mouth back up to his cock, trailing kisses along the length of him, he nearly lost it. His cock throbbed harder now, aching for more. You took the tip into your mouth, sucking softly, your lips stretching around him as you slowly took him deeper.

“Fuck, yes,” Joel growled, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Just like that… fuckin’ perfect.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening in your hair as he guided you, his body trembling with need.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Takin’ me so perfectly… fuck, you feel so good.”

Every stroke of your mouth, every flick of your tongue over him, sent his body spiraling, the pleasure building inside him, ready to explode.

“God, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he groaned, his voice almost desperate now. “Fuck… you’re so good, baby.”

Just before he could come, he pulled you off him, his chest heaving, his body trembling with the intensity of his need.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you back onto the bed. His eyes were dark with hunger, and the second your body hit the mattress, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was desperate, teeth grazing against your lips, his breath heavy with need.

He hovered above you, his body tense, every movement deliberate, as if he was grounding himself in the feel of you. His lips broke from yours to trail down your jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as he whispered against your skin.

“You’re safe… You’re here… You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw emotion, laced with an edge of desperation. “I’ve got you, baby. Not letting go.”

His body pressed into yours, his hard cock sliding between your slick folds, the heat of him teasing you with every slow rock of his hips. He groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt your wetness coat him, the sensation driving him to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck, his hips moving deliberately as he teased you, his length sliding against you, the head of his cock brushing your entrance but never fully entering.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his hips rocked slowly, teasing both of you.

“I need you… I need to fuckin’ feel you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with the strain of holding back. “You’re everything, baby. All I’ve got.”

He pressed the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, inching forward, the slow stretch making you both gasp. He pushed inside you, inch by inch, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep control, his body trembling with the effort.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his breath ragged as he filled you completely. “You’re mine, darlin’. All mine.”

Joel’s breath came out in heavy, uneven gasps as he moved over you, each slow thrust deliberate, his hips rocking into you with a controlled intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, watching your every reaction, your soft moans and gasps only fueling the fire inside him.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growled, his voice low, barely able to hold himself together. His hands slid up your sides, fingers grazing over your breasts, which bounced with every thrust. “So perfect… no one else gets this. No one but me.”

Your body responded to him instinctively, arching into him, matching his rhythm as the heat between you grew. His lips trailed down your neck, tasting your skin, sucking gently before biting down, just hard enough to make you gasp.

His hips began to pick up the pace, each thrust more forceful than the last, pushing deeper inside you. His eyes never left your body, watching the way your breasts bounced with every movement, the way your back arched, the way your fingers clutched at the sheets.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice deep, primal. "Look at you… takin’ me so good. This pussy was made for me."

His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them roughly as he drove into you harder, his fingers teasing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he groaned with pleasure.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he muttered, his voice slurred with lust, his breath hot against your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

His movements became more urgent, more desperate, each thrust harder than the last. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies colliding only driving him wilder.

His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him with every thrust, burying himself deeper inside you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he rasped, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. “This cunt… it’s mine. All mine.”

Your moans grew louder, each sound spilling from your lips driving him closer to the edge. His hips slammed into yours with brutal intensity, the force of his movements making your body tremble beneath him.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he growled, his voice rough, the filthy words dripping from his lips as he pounded into you. “You like when I fuck you like this… When I own every inch of you.”

His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them tightly as he spread your legs wider, giving him deeper access as he thrust harder, faster. His body was slick with sweat, his muscles straining as he gave you everything he had.

“Take it,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust, his eyes dark as he watched you. “Take every fuckin’ inch.”

Your body arched off the bed, your nails digging into his back as the pressure built inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Joel’s eyes never left yours, watching you come apart beneath him, his movements relentless as he drove you higher and higher.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he groaned, his voice barely audible between breaths. “Look at you, takin’ me so well. This fuckin’ body was made for me.”

His control was slipping, his thrusts becoming erratic, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He could feel you tightening around him, your body shaking as you approached the edge, and it only pushed him harder, faster.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a mix of filthy promises and raw need. “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

With a final, deep thrust, you shattered around him, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm tore through you. Your entire body trembled, your legs shaking as you came hard, clenching around him.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice raw and desperate. “I’m gonna cum… inside you.”

Your breath hitched, and through the haze of pleasure, you gasped out, “No… not inside, Joel.”

But his grip on your hips tightened, his pace only increasing as he leaned down, his mouth brushing your ear. His breath was ragged, filled with need, and his voice darkened with that raw, possessive tone that always drove you wild.

“Oh, I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled, his words thick with lust. “Gonna shoot it deep inside, baby. Feel it? Gonna pump you full of me.”

Your protest was swallowed by the intensity of his thrusts, his body moving with a relentless, animalistic rhythm as he chased his release. Every movement was deliberate, driven by the need to claim you fully, to push you past the edge where you had no control left.

“You’re mine,” he whispered harshly, his grip bruising as his hips slammed into yours with brutal force. “This pussy is mine to fill. I’ll fuckin’ shoot every drop deep inside and watch it drip out of you.”

The heat between you both was unbearable, and his cock throbbed inside you, your body wrapped around him perfectly. His breath came out in ragged bursts as he buried himself deep, holding you tight, no intention of pulling out.

His voice lowered, dark and dirty. “You’ll feel me leaking out of you for hours, baby… that’s what I do. I fuckin’ claim you from the inside out.”

And with a guttural groan, Joel lost control, his hips slamming into you one last time as he came hard, spilling into you with a force that left him trembling. His body shuddered against yours, the heat of his release filling you as his cock pulsed, shooting wave after wave of hot cum deep inside.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, grinding his hips against yours, making sure you felt every last drop. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me. I fill you up, make sure you feel me long after we’re done.”

He collapsed onto you, his breath still ragged, his body trembling as the last waves of pleasure washed over him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, holding you tight like he was never going to let you go.

“Every bit of you,” he murmured into your skin, his voice softer now, but still heavy with satisfaction. “You take all of me.”

· · ───

He didn't speak right away, but he slipped out of bed, disappearing briefly before returning with a warm towel. His movements were careful, almost methodical, as he gently cleaned you, parting your legs with slow, tender strokes.

You watched him, your heart heavy with the way he moved, so soft and deliberate, so different from the intense, possessive man from earlier. The shift unsettled you, though there was something undeniably intimate about the way he took care of you now, as if he was clinging to this moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, breaking the silence, his voice low and vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the growls and raw need he’d shown earlier.

He kissed your leg gently before setting the towel aside, pulling the covers up over both of you. "You okay?" His voice wavered, like he was afraid of your answer.

You nodded, but the weight of everything lingered between you. You like him, but the intensity of his need for you, the way he held onto control so fiercely, left you with a knot in your chest. The silence stretched on, and you knew you had to say it.

"I'm okay," you whispered, your voice soft, hesitant. But then the truth spilled out, delicate but firm. "But I… I'll need the morning-after pill. Tomorrow."

The air in the room shifted instantly. Joel froze, his hand still resting lightly on your hip, but his grip loosened. His eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them—disappointment, maybe even hurt.

His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, and though he nodded, the gesture felt slow, almost reluctant. "Yeah… whatever you need," he said quietly, his voice rougher now, carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll take care of it.”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your heart twisted. You could see it—the subtle shift in him, the way he was trying so hard to keep it together, to be the one who could protect you from everything. But his need for control, for certainty, left him lost.

“I’ll get you some water,” he muttered, almost distracted, as if he needed something to do. He slipped out of bed again, the sound of his footsteps faint as he moved to the kitchen. You could hear the quiet clinking of glass, the faucet running, but all you could think about was the tension in his voice.

When he returned, he handed you the water, waiting for you to take a sip before placing it on the nightstand. His hand rested on your back, rubbing slow circles, but there was something off in the way he touched you—his need to care for you had become almost frantic, as if he was trying to prove something, trying to fix something he couldn’t control.

"Do you need anything else?" His voice was soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for another request, something else he could take care of. “More water? Food? Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”

You shook your head gently, but guilt gnawed at you. You hadn’t meant to unsettle him, hadn’t wanted him to feel like he wasn’t enough. You could see it in his eyes—the storm of emotions he was barely holding back, his desperate need to be there for you in every way.

“I’m good, Joel,” you whispered, offering him a small smile, but the weight of it all hung between you, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Joel’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard, struggling to keep it together. His hand lingered on your hip, his breath uneven. "I just want you safe. I’ll make sure you have what you need."

The look in his eyes tugged at something deep inside you—a mix of guilt and tenderness. You hadn’t meant to make him feel like this, hadn’t wanted to push him further into the spiral you could see in his eyes.

You reached for him, your fingers brushing his cheek gently, and before he could say anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched, his body stiff for a moment, but the tension in his shoulders began to ease under your touch.

“Come here,” you whispered softly against his lips, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “Lay down with me.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he didn’t know what to say. But then, with a quiet sigh, he slipped back into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as though he was afraid you might slip away.

His embrace was warm, comforting, but you could feel the vulnerability in the way he held you—the desperate need to protect you, to be everything for you, even when he was still fighting his own battles.

You kissed him again, softer this time, your lips lingering as you whispered, "I'm right here."

His breath came out in a shaky exhale, his arms tightening around you, holding you close as though it was the only way to ground himself. “I’ll always keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with emotion. “I promise.”

And though you knew there were things you couldn’t fix for him, though you couldn’t be the solution to all his pain, you let him hold you in that moment, let him believe that he could keep the chaos at bay.

Tomorrow, you’d have to face the hard conversations, the reality of what he needed. But tonight, you could be his anchor.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

whew....

Another chapter will come, comment if u want me to remind you!! (also just really love comments, they make me so motivated)

xoxo

[animehideout]

Masterlist Update.

⚠️ A/N: For those who are interested in Wattpad kpop / Anime Long Stories, You can check my Wattpad " narae_99 " . Complete Mafia Au ( Bangchan x Reader) , Enemies to Lovers Au (Leeknow x Reader)

Jujutsu Kaisen

♡⁠˖Headcanons & Reactions˖⁠♡

• JJK Men Green and Red flags ↓

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV

• JJK Men And Their Fav Place To Do It 🔞

• JJK Men Turn-ons.

• JJK Men Kinks.

• JJK Men And Their Types Of Hugs.

• JJK Men When They Want Your Attention.

• How Would JJK Men Dress Up For Your Date

• JJK Men Pet Names For You.

• JJK Men Pick Up Lines.

• JJK Men And How They Act When They're In The Mood 🔞

• JJK Men Fav Positions 🔞

• JJK Men Soft Moments With You 🤍

• JJK Men When You Kiss Them Unexpectedly In Public 🩷

• What Songs Would JJK Men Play In BG While Doing It

• JJK Men And Things They Would Say 🔞

• Jobs JJK Men Would Have In Real Life (imo) → Part I Part II

• Types Of Kisses.

• JJK Men As Types Of Love

• Love Troops Suitable For JJK Men → Part 1 Part 2

• Teasing Toji Fushiguro

• JJK Men x Plus Size Fem¡ reader.{Requested}

• Gamer Gf Ignores JJK Men . {Requested}

• JJK X HAIKYUU MEN X READER Locked In A Room ( fluff 🍭)

• Insecure Reader X JJK Men Finding Out { Requested }

• Your MBTI, Your Relationship With JJK Characters 🆕 ALL PARTS

• JJK Men X Male¡ Reader First Kiss

• JJK Men And Types Of Women They'd Be Attracted To {Requested}

• JJK Men Perfect First Date → PART 1 PART2 PART3( coming soon..) 🆕💙

• JJK Men Period Comfort 🌸 {Requested}

• SFW Alphabets For Gojo Satoru {Requested}

• Comfort Letters From JJK Men→ Gojo.Ver

• JJK Men Proposing With A Ringpop {Requested}

• JJK Men Comforting Their S/O Who's Doubting Themselves {Requested} fluff 🍰

• JJK Men Turn-Offs {Requested}

• JJK Men Reaction To Y/N With A Tongue Piercing {Requested}

• Toji Fushiguro x INTJ { Requested }

• NSFW alphabets Gojo Satoru 🔞 {Requested}

♡⁠˖Series & Oneshots˖⁠♡

Gojo Satoru:

• Birthday Oneshot

• Love Is The Most Twisted Curse Of All [Arranged Marriage ff]: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8

• My one and only [ Requested]

• Gojo Satoru X Dumb But Kind Reader {Requested}

• Gojo Satoru X ENTP f!reader {Requested}

Ryomen Sukuna :

• A Deal Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 Part 6 🔞⚠️

• Somnophilia [Requested] 🔞

• For Eternity (Sukuna x fem! sorcerer reader, reincarnated ver) [Requested]

Geto Suguru:

• Insecure Reader X Suguru Geto ( Angst with happy ending)

Choso Kamo:

• Battle with Choso, Fluff {Requested}

Tokyo Revengers

♡⁠˖Headcanons & Oneshots˖⁠♡

• How They Tease You For Fun.

• When You're On Your Period.

• Yandere Mikey + Yandere Kazutora ( Requested).

• When You Have A Nightmare.

• Their Fav Place To Kiss You.

• Taking Care Of Sick S/O ( Requested).

• Soft Moments With You.

• Jealous Baji Keisuke With Naive s/o ( Requested )

• First Date Part I

• First Date Part II

• When Someone Flirts With Shy S/O ( Requested).

• Reaction To S/O Similar To Nezuko ( Requested ).

• Tokyo Revengers Men Jealousy.

♡⁠˖Series & Oneshots˖⁠♡

Baji Keisuke:

My Reason ( s/o stops Baji from killing himself [Requested] )

Draken:

Toman's Little Fighter ( Fluff - Angst - Happy Ending )

Takemichi :

( Discovering S/O is a gang leader [Requested]).

Haikyuu:

♡⁠˖Headcanons & Reactions˖⁠♡

• Green And Red Flags ↓

Part I / Part II / Part III

• How They Show Affection.

• When They Realize They Have Feelings For You.

• How Would Haikyuu Men Dress Up For Your Date.

• Haikyuu Boys x fem! volleyball player 🆕✨

My Hero Academia:

♡⁠˖Headcanons & Reactions˖⁠♡

• Types Of Kisses.

• Reader Wants Cuddles.

• Night Routine With BNHA Men.

• First Kiss With BNHA men.

• Finding Out They're Gonna Have A Baby ( requested ).

• Shinso Hitoshi ( falling asleep together [Requested]).

• Asking About Tampons ( Requested ).

♡⁠˖Series & Oneshots˖⁠♡

Cursed Touch { Bakugo Katsuki x Dabi x Reader} ↓

• Whole story + Angst Ending

• Happy Ending.

Attack On Titan

Relationship Headcanonsﾉ⁠♡

Eren

Levi

[andypantsx3]

READY OR KNOT : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... TAGS/WARNINGS: pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni! NOTES: Why yes this is a full-length fic inspired by my Shouto is too pretty to be an alpha except whoops he is drabble from a while back. It sort of grew its own legs and an unexpected case fic angle, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! LENGTH: est. 24k+, STATUS: ONGOING

CHAPTERS:

part i

part ii

part iii (coming soon)

part iv (coming soon)

part v (coming soon)

part vi (coming soon)

part vii (coming soon)

READ ON AO3

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (but it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

Revisit rule: "Don't Show Fear"?

Your whole day soured at the notion of you not being able to get the book as soon as you had hoped. Your mind raced at the possibilities that would happen if it was gone for good, but you had to think of happy thoughts as patrons began to ask you if you were feeling alright on the job. You hadn’t expected your emotions to show so openly on your face. 

Uraume did not interfere with your work at all. If you had made a wincing sound loud enough for them to hear, their head would dart to your attention, silently asking if you needed their assistance. You would shake your head to assure them you were doing just fine, and then Uraume would stick their nose back in their book. They seemed to be earnestly reading, absorbing the information from one non fiction novel to the next in astonishing speed. You think they must have finished at least two books by the third hour of your shift. 

The only time you lost sight of Uraume was when Kento made a surprise comeback to the front desk. 

“Mr. Nanami? Don’t tell me you finished all those books already?” 

He gave you a weary smile. Yuuji was no longer on his hip, but instead holding his hand with an apologetic frown. 

“I left my favorite jacket here. We had to come back to get it,” Yuuji mumbled. 

“Oh that’s not a problem. I’m sure it’s in the kid section right where you left it. There hasn’t been that many people today,” you assured them. To make the boy feel better, you led him to the last place you saw him, holding out your own hand for him to take. That’s when Nanami saw your foot and tried to make you stay back. 

“Trust me, I want to move around. I’ve been stuck up there pretty much all day,” you waved Nanami off. 

Just as you expected, Yuuji’s beloved jacket was crumbled up on one of the colorful beanbags in the reading zone. He dropped your hand to dash towards it. Once Yuuji collected his belongings he ran back to you with a running hug that almost knocked you off of your feet. 

“Thank you!” He gushed. 

“Yuuji, be careful!” He peeled the young boy with the strength of two men off of your body. “I’m sorry about that. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Kento, I’m fine. Now go have fun at the beach for me,” you smiled. 

You waved them off for the second time. On your trip back to your desk is when you noticed that Uraume was nowhere to be found. They weren’t sitting at the desk that they have been reading at, or skimming through the shelves when you did a quick look around. 

As you plopped back to the front desk, Jess popped up from the office space behind you. 

“You wanna work back here for now? I’ll take the front. You’re moving around too much for my liking.”

She practically wheeled you to the back before you could agree, but you knew it would be better for you. 

“Have you seen that one person with white hair?”

“Not in a while. Why, you think they're sketchy?”

“No no, I was just curious.” The last thing you needed was attention on Uraume, because more attention on them would lead to Sukuna. Since they found their way to the library, you had no doubt that they would get home safely. 

Now in the back, or the Book Nursery as your library liked to call it, you scanned the stack of new novels that you have not seen before. 

“When did this delivery come in?” 

“I just picked it up from the donation box,” Jess explained. Your shoulders dropped at her words and she gave you a concerned look. “Do you want to go home? You don’t live too far. I can drop you off and have somebody cover me for twenty minutes while I come back.”

“I can’t make you do that,” you shook your head. You got comfortable in your chair and picked the first book in the stack. It was a children’s book that had the plastic covering torn to shreds and a few loose pages. All it needed was a little TLC and it would be as good as new. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. I’ll be okay back here.” 

“If you say so,” she said, unconvinced. “Holla if you need me.” 

Being away from the needs of the public was exactly what you needed. With quiet music playing in your headphones, you were in the groove of putting books back together until your shift was over. You had gotten through half of the stack and most of them were salvageable. When Jess rapped on the door to tell you that it was time to leave, your mood was noticeably lifted. 

Right before Jess dropped you off at your house, she gently held your hand. 

“If your new man does anything— and I mean anything— that breaks your heart…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you promised. 

“Good. Call me if you need anything!” 

Once inside, you were greeted to the sounds sourcing from the kitchen and the living room. Your TV was on with a show that you didn’t recognize at first until you saw the familiar opening sequence of none other than Hannibal. You smirked at the screen, passing it to see what Sukuna could possibly up to in the kitchen, especially when you had listed that place as off limits. 

“My lord, you can no longer use that knife. She doesn’t like meat or residue from meat in her meals. We will have to wash them or retrieve new utensils,” Uruame softly reminded.

“Some meat would do her good,” Sukuna grumbled. Still, he grabbed a new knife like Uraume said and began to chop the vegetables in front of him. He squinted at the cookbook propped up at the corner of the countertop before giving up and telling Uraume to read it outloud. 

You could barely hold in your laugh. Both heads popped up to see you standing in the corner. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled. 

“Preparing dinner, ma’am,” Uraume bowed. “Welcome home.” 

“I’m glad that you made it back safely,” you said. Sukuna washed off his hands before greeting you with a bear hug with all four of his arms. 

“You’ve reduced me to be the one at home waiting at home for you to return.” 

“I think being a housewife suits you,” you squeezed out. His hold was tight, genuinely missing your presence and now he didn’t want to let you go. 

“I’ll leave that to Uraume for the time being. There is something we need to do.” 

There is nothing more that Sukuna loves doing than picking you up so that he can move faster, and that’s exactly what he did to walk you to the living room and placed you on the couch. You looked at him bewilderedly as he unstrapped. When you swung your foot off the couch to stand up limply, he gave you an unimpressed glare. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you didn’t explain anything! What are you gonna do?”

“I am going to heal you if you can stop moving around,” Sukuna growled. He grabbed your wrist, attempting to have you fall into his lap but you stumbled back. 

“Heal me? How? Why?” The rapid fire questions thinned Sukuna’s patience. He held out one of his hands for you to take but you were stubborn in your stillness. 

“You and your questions. How? Why?” He repeated mockingly. He slowly rose from the bed, taking slow, predatory steps towards you until there was no more space for you. You bumped into a wall and couldn’t hide from his gaze. “Do you think I am incapable?”

“N-no.”

“Do you think I have ill intentions?”

“I don’t think so?” You squeaked.

“Then settle down. Concern yourself with matters you can control.” 

You were practically plastered on the wall when Sukuna sank down to one knee, taking it upon himself to remove your boot to look at your toe himself. He muttered something that you couldn’t make out, a language that you have yet to learn, and the dull pain in your toe you felt since you broke it disappeared. You gasped squatting down to look at your foot and saw that the bruising around it had faded away. You poked at your toe, expecting to wince at the touch but was greeted with… nothing. 

Sukuna watched you carefully as you inspected your body. You flexed your muscles, wiggled it, stomped on it with hawk eye attention. 

“It’s really healed,” you muttered to yourself. “How did you do that?” You demanded. 

“It’s a simple spell for a minor injury locked away in the book that I’m bound to. It was easy enough to learn,” Sukuna said. 

“You learned it just now? From the book? You never had to use it on yourself?” “The need was not there before. I never got hurt in battle.” 

You concluded that Uraume was at the library on multiple orders, one being to watch for you, but once they were sure you were alright, Uraume must have grabbed the journal when you were no longer watching. Sukuna scooped you up in his arms despite your new ability to walk on your own to take you to your room. Before he could sit you down on your bed, you tighten your arms around his neck, signaling that you didn’t want to be placed down just yet. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something. 

You placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking him by surprise. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I’m sure I would’ve gotten better all on my own, but this was very kind of you.” 

While his face remained unchanged, Sukuna’s ears turned scarlet. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms, unsure if you had done the right thing. Usually Sukuna was pretty expressive even if he wasn’t saying anything. This time, all you got was a deep stare into your soul that left nothing to hide. 

“I told you that I wouldn’t have to beg for your kiss,” he smirked. 

Heat rushed to your face. “I’ll never give you another one!”

“Never? Why lie to yourself?” He crooned in your ear, making your embarrassment rise. You pushed away his face only to get your finger caught in his mouth. It sent a shock right down to the apex of your thighs, leading you to hiss loudly. Sukuna knew exactly the effect he had on you, and his teeth grazed across your finger length. 

“Eating me because of a kiss is a bit much, no?” You nervously laughed. 

You had no idea how Sukuna could devour you if you allowed him. You slowly took your hand out of his mouth, opting to tenderly cup the side of his face. You could hear your heart pounding, the blood rushing in your veins as your face drifted closer to his. Sukuna’s parted lips waited for yours, allowing you to take the lead. When you finally tasted his mouth you sighed in relief. The attraction between you and Sukuna has always been palatable, even if you willingly chose to ignore it, but now there was no denying it. He stirred something deep within your stomach that you could no longer ignore. You wanted to be dragged down deeper, to have his hands all over your body. 

Sukuna gently lowered you into your bedding, his mouth still locked on yours. His tongue pushed yours with assertion. Everything he did was meaningful, and all you felt was possession. There was barely enough space for him to fit between your legs but still you tried. You were clawing at his back to place his whole weight on your body when you heard soft rapping at the door. You barely had enough self control to actually check who it was. With one eye open you saw your poor cat trying to leave the room before you got freaky with a demon. 

“Sukuna– wait–” 

You had to deal with him biting and sucking your neck, almost dragging you back down in bed with him but you will was stronger. 

“I’m not going anywhere, give me a second!” 

Sukuna held himself over your body. Two hands planted at your head, the other two creeping up your shirt. 

“Cleo cannot be in here if we’re about to do anything. Let me take our child out.” You held his face in your hands and shook him gently. Your words finally reached his brain and he rolled over, petulantly crossing his arms over his chest while staring at the ceiling. 

You petted Cleo’s ears while apologizing to her. 

“Sorry honey. I almost let you see something R-rated,” you chuckled. At the front of your open door stood Uraume waiting patiently who made you jump back. They bowed as an apology, still speaking with their head down. 

“Your dinner is ready to be served.”

“Leave us, Uraume," Sukuna ordered from behind. 

“Yes, my L–”

“No, we’ll eat now,” you stepped in. Cleo ran down the hall for her own meal with loud meows after purring around Uraume’s feet. You could feel Sukuna’s growing scowls from behind boring into your head. 

“As you wish,” Uraume bowed again. 

You turned to a very annoyed demon who rolled his eyes when you pecked another kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t look so down. I gave you another kiss despite my words earlier. That’s gotta count for something.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes on you. “Eat well. Once you are fed, I will not let you go.” 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

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