#and maybe he was walking around before they left after dinner

[no-144444]

nothing has to change- o.piastri

your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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You were the World Driver’s Champion, as of 4pm that day. Yes, that could change in the next few races, half the season was still left, but you were proud. 

And so was Oscar. 

He stood at the very front of the barricade, a bright smile on his face as you ran over, wrapping your arms around him and the rest of his family. 

“You did it,” he whispered. “You’re amazing.”

You smiled, pulling your helmet off. “I did it.”

You felt proud of yourself. Proud that you could still excel in a team that didn’t want you. Proud that you had given them the points. Proud that you had let Oscar into your life. Proud that you had proved yourself worthy of RedBull, and much more. 

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You sat beside Oscar and Nicole at the dinner, across from Lando and Zak (who had invited themselves, much to Oscar’s chagrin). You quietly chatted to Nicole as Oscar made pleasant conversation with Zak and Lando. She noticed how you weren’t really… there. You kept looking at Lando, or Zak, or another team member. You were uncomfortable, nothing like the headstrong, loud girl she’d met yesterday. You were shy, reserved, and a little on edge. 

When you left the table to go to the bathroom, she tapped her son. “Get her out of here.”

He shrugged, sighing. “She won’t want to be rude-”

“Oscar, she’ll do anything you ask her to. Go.” 

He nodded, following you with your bag and jacket in hand. Kids these days. 

“Going to fuck her?” Lando scoffed, too drunk for his own good. A lot of the table stopped and gasped. Lando had never been so… vulgar. Oscar was disgusted. Just because neither you or Oscar worshipped the ground he walked on, didn’t mean he had to make the both of you miserable.

“What is your problem?” Oscar finally couldn’t take it. It was bullshit, Lando was an asshole. 

“It’s clear you’re in love with her,” he chuckled. 

“Fuck off Lando,” he shouted. “You’re such a dick! You’re so self-absorbed you wouldn’t even recognise someone interesting if they actually slapped you in the face. You don’t understand Y/n, and for her sake I hope you never get close enough to. You are a shallow, shitty, infuriatingly untalented asshole, with an ego the size of England. Maybe I’m in love with her, but at least I don’t act like she’s not there to feed my own tiny ego.”

And he turned around to see you standing there, a shocked expression on your face. You looked slightly terrified too, but he just decided to blame the shock. 

“Y/n I-“ he started but you cut him off by grabbing your things from his hands, and turning tail. The entire room was silent for a moment. “Fuck!” Oscar groaned, running out after you. 

He couldn’t have, he didn’t. He didn’t fuck this up. Lando didn’t fuck this up for him. He didn’t. 

He better not have. 

He raced through the streets of a city he didn’t really know, pleading that he’d find you. When he did, it was from a distance. You were sitting in a park. Your head in your hands. 

Lando had fucked it up for him. Slowly, he walked closer, too cautious to startle you. 

“I’m sorry about… back there-” he whispered. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you sighed. “I just… it’s a lot, yeah? I don't exactly see myself as the poster-girl for romance.”

He looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never really done this before. And I’m awkward and weird, and I’m rude to you-” 

“I don’t mind if you’re rude to me-” 

“You should,” you told him. 

You were both quiet for a moment, and he understood that this was a fork in the road. He could either push you too far, or he’d ruin everything if you felt the same by not speaking up now. The air was charged with an uncertain electricity, and he wasn’t perfectly sure what to do. Oscar was a man of logic, but love was illogical. He liked facts and numbers and a set of rules to follow. He didn’t like feeling uncertain. 

But he was happy to feel uncertain if it meant he kept you. 

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” he told you. “If you don’t want it to, we don’t have to do anything about it. I’m happy to be your friend. I’m not expecting anything.”

You looked at him, and when he saw the unshed tears in your eyes, his heart hurt. He gently reached a hand up and cupped your cheek, carefully wiping them away. 

“I don’t want anything to change,” you admitted. “I really like having you around Oscar.” 

He smiled, though he was slightly disappointed. Rejection from the pretty girl he was in love with was going to sting either way, even if she’d just told him that she actually enjoyed his presence. “That’s fine with me,” he whispered. 

You stared at him, silently asking for reassurance, and he nodded. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be-”

“Don’t apologise,” he reminded you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I think I do,” you said, looking down again. “I just… I’m not in the headspace to be in a relationship. McLaren is really… it’s a lot for me.”

So you did like him back? He couldn’t really decipher what that meant, but he’d work on it another time. 

“That’s alright,” he smiled. 

You couldn’t be more shocked by his behaviour. Yes, Oscar was the nicest man you knew, but you assumed he’d be mad, or at least a little bit annoyed at you. But he was just the same, kind, caring, lovely Oscar that he always was. 

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After he walked you back to your hotel room, you stewed over your decision for a few hours. Maybe you did want Oscar like that. Maybe you were just self-sabotaging yourself as always. Maybe you were just being more cautious than you needed to be. 

But then you reminded yourself that this was Oscar that you were talking about. The only person in the entire world who supported you. You couldn’t let him get too close, lest he see all of you, and then you were sure he’d be gone for good.

You couldn't lose him. 

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[w2soneshots]

It’ll always be him -W2S

words: 2.3k+

warnings: light angst with a happy ending, mention of a break up, pregnancy (at the end).

summary: you and Harry were a couple during your teen years. You broke up and years later you both return to Guernsey for Christmas, sparks fly as you bump into each other and you realise that it’ll always be him.

notes: hello angels! I love this kind of trope so was excited to delve into it and as you can tell by the word count, I got extremely invested. It’s sorta giving cheesy Christmas movie vibes🙈🎄✨. I hope you enjoy!!😚 (there will also be a festive smau on Christmas Day for you all!)

Last night I landed in Guernsey to spend Christmas with my family. I'd booked a week and a half off of work so I could enjoy the holiday, and I felt the most relaxed I'd felt in a while. It was late when my mum, dad and younger sister picked me up from the airport so we spent an hour or two chatting before going up to bed.

The next morning I woke up, wrapped up warm and took my childhood dog on a walk, which proved to be extremely calming. When I got home breakfast was waiting for me. We all ate together and then spent the rest of the day laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"So... Sue Lewis mentioned that Harry's also home for the holidays," my mum chirped quietly with an eyebrow raise as we sat comfortably on the living room couch, after eating a delicious dinner. I signed, my eyes wondering to the soft glow of the Christmas tree. "It's been years. He's not my business anymore mum," I finally muttered.

Our break up wasn't toxic at all, we just wanted different things, that doesn't mean it wasn't hard. Harry was my first love and it took me a long time to fully get over him. Even now, hearing his name only reminds me of all the heartache.

That night, as I was trying to fall asleep, my mind wondered to my ex boyfriend. I tried to push the thoughts away though they lingered in my brain right up until the until the sun rose.

I left the house to clear my head and decided to do a little last minute present shopping. As I was walking through the streets of my hometown I took in how much it'd changed in just a few years.

I walked into one of the little shops and froze in my tracks. My ex boyfriend Harry Lewis stood at the checkout counter, talking to the cashier about what wrapping he'd like the gift he'd bought to be wrapped in. Fucking brilliant.

I turned around swiftly after the initial shock had worn off. "Are you okay love?" The sweet older cashier asked before I could get out of the door. Fuck, shit, fuckkk.

I turned slowly. They were now both staring at me and god did Harry look good, his hair blonder and tousled, quite tanned and buff. "I'm fine thank you," I smiled politely before walking out awkwardly.

"Excuse me, I just need to-" I heard from inside the shop before my name was called. I took a deep breath. "Keep cool," I told myself. I turned to look at him. "Uhm- hey..." he seemed to be surprised by his own forwardness. "Hi."

He cleared his throat. "How are you?" He asked. "Good good, looking forward to Christmas... you?" I replied, my heart pounding. "Great, same." The air fell silent. "Well, you should get back to-" I gestured towards the store.

"Oh yeah, yeah shit. Uhm- could we maybe go for a coffee or something, catch up?" He asked, his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck. "Sure, tomorrow good? At Ralph's?" "That's perfect, say... ten ish?" I nodded with a small smile. "Okay, great. I'll see you then. Take care." he returned the smile. "You too, bye Harry."

As I walked home I couldn't believe what'd just happened. I mean, it's a small island -we were bound to run in to each other- but I just wasn't prepared to see him. It felt so normal though, in an odd way. I was a little nervous to see him tomorrow but I felt like I needed a bit of closure. Just a few weeks after we broke up he moved to London, we haven't spoken since he left, well, up until twenty minutes ago. It was just coffee... right?

The next day I informed my mum that I was going to meet Harry as let's just say she was absolutely delighted. She loves Harry and was upset when we broke up since she was completely convinced that we were perfect for each other.

I wrapped up warm since it was freezing outside. As I was slipping on my boots my mum walked into the hallway with a specific look on her face. "What?" I asked. "I know he broke your heart but his heart was broken too. So... just give him a chance please sweetheart?"

I sighed, she was right... as always. "I will, it's- just hard, but I will... promise," I smiled reassuringly. "Good, enjoy yourself." She pulled me into a warm hug after I'd stood from my position at the bottom stairs of our staircase. "Bye and... thank you." She nodded once before I left.

When I arrived outside of Ralph's coffee shop I took a deep breath before stepping inside. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, just a few people scattered across different tables and there was Harry, a cute little smile emerging onto his face when he spotted me standing at the entrance.

I walked over and took my coat off, placing it on the back of the chair before sitting down. "Hey." "Hi." It was awkward to say the least. Harry adjusted himself in his seat. "So, what've you been up to?" He finally asked.

I quietly cleared my throat. "I live in London now actually, on the outskirts. I moved for my job," I replied. "Oh yeah, what do you do?" He leaned forward slightly. "I'm a personal shopper, it sounds stupid-" "no it doesn't. Worked for anyone cool?" That was sweet.

The conversation began to flow, the tension in the air slowly easing off. Though the weight of our past feelings still lingered. "You definitely weren't a fan of Josh," Harry said with a chuckle, referring to his brother. "I liked him, he was just a bit of a cock blocker at times." I paused. Why the fuck would I say that?! Thankfully Harry didn't seem to dwell on my comment. "He's a little less insufferable now."

After almost three hours it was time to part ways. "Well, take care of yourself," he said softly as we shared a quick hug. He still had the same comforting scent from when I first met him. "You too. Have a good Christmas Harry." We held eye contact for slightly longer than necessary then waved goodbye.

For the next week he was all I could think about. I just wanted a relaxing Christmas and for some reason I was catching feelings for my old high school boyfriend, I wasn't sure what to think. "This is torture," I groaned as I walked with my dad, on Christmas Eve morning, my hand holding our dog's leash as he happily skipped down the pavement.

"This is your last chance love. Next year he might come home with a new girlfriend, you'll regret not taking your chance," he advised kindly. "But if he doesn't want me-" "trust me darling, he wants you. Me and your mum were speaking about it last night. You loved each other so much and the sparkles still there, you just have to try."

I thought on it for the rest of the day and finally decided I was just going to risk it, what's the worst that could happen? There's actually many bad scenarios that I'd thought up as I drove to the Lewis household but I pushed them to the back of my mind and focused on how the fuck I was going to begin the conversation.

I parked a few houses down and sat in my car for a good five minutes, trying to hype myself up for potential embarrassment. When I finally got out of the car, walked up to the house and knocked on the door I was a little bit calmer.

Harry's sister Rosie opened the door with a smile. "Can I help you- wait! y/n? Oh my god. How are you, it's been years?!" She exclaimed excitedly. "I'm great thanks. Is Harry here?" She raised her eyebrows knowingly but said nothing. "He's through there, go on in." She smirked slightly as I thanked her and stepped into the house.

I took a deep breath before knocking on Harry's door. "Josh, piss off!" I heard from the other side. I breathed out a laugh. "Harry, it's y/n! Can I come in?" It went silent for a minute before I heard shuffling and then the door opened slowly.

"Uh- hey. What- what're you doing here?" He seemed a bit flustered. "I wanted to talk." "Oh- yeah, okay." He stepped aside. His room was different, they'd upgraded to a bigger house since we were together but it had all the same little trinkets.

"So... what did you want to talk about?" He asked as we sat next to each other on the end of his bed. I stared down at the floor, wanting to save myself from the look on his face. May as well just get straight into it. "I'm sure you moved on from me years ago and I thought I'd moved on from you but," I took a deep breath before continuing, "I think seeing you the other day brought up some old feelings and I'm a little confused."

"Thank fuck," he breathed out after a moment. My head whipped up to look at him in surprise. "What?" "I thought I was going crazy, I've- I guess I've not been able to stop thinking about you." The conversation was a little awkward because well... it's Harry but we were both deadly serious.

"So what exactly does this mean?" I asked, which was a very complicated question. The room fell silent for a moment. "I don't know," he finally answered. "How much longer are you staying here?" He glanced at me. "Uhm- four days. Then I'm flying back to London," he replied.

I nodded slowly. "Do you- would you want to... give us another go? No pressure or anything, just see if it could work?" My voice was quiet. "Yeah... yes." We finally looked at each other, small smiles spread across our faces.

Three years later... "ready to go?!" I shouted up the stairs of my family home. "I'm comin, I'm comin! Hang about woman!" Seconds later Harry's footsteps were heard as he raced down the stairs. I chuckled. "What?" He asked once he reached the bottom. "Nothing, just sometimes the things you come out with really do make me laugh."

He pressed an unexpected kiss to my lips as soon as I finished my sentence. "What was that for?" I asked with a smile. "I just love you and I'm still on a high from the 'present' you gave me earlier. Now come on, we're going to be late and you know how much Rosie hates when we're late."

When we arrived at the Lewis' house Harry stayed in the car for a moment longer than usual. "You okay?" I asked, placing a reassuring hand on his knee. "How long do we have to wait to tell them?" He asked quickly. "Definitely not so soon but we're not going to be down here for a while so we can tell them today if you want?" I replied calmly.

"Really, are you sure?" He was now smiling. "Of course, we can tell my parents tomorrow too." He nodded then unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Merry Christmas!" Sue announced cheerfully as she opened the door, quick to pull me into a warm hug. "Merry Christmas," I repeated with a chuckle. "Alright mum, not to hard, you'll crush her," Harry said. "You're just jealous," I quipped back as Sue pulled away. She proceeded to laugh and then hug Harry too.

When the time arrived to sit and eat Christmas dinner we were all ravenous. "This looks incredible, thank you both so much," I smiled at both of Harry's parents politely. "Our pleasure dear," his dad Adrien replied.

We all tucked in and got to chatting. "Any big news in your life recently?" Josh asked. I froze for a second. "That was specific," Harry replied quickly. Josh shrugged. "You live in London, I assumed your lives were exiting." I giggled in response.

After a moment me and Harry shared a look then I nodded. "Actually," everyone looked up at us. "There is some pretty massive news." "We'll go on then Harry! Don't make us wait," Rosie leaned forward. "y/n's pregnant."

Everyone's eyes widened. "Wait... what? Really!" Josh turned to me. I nodded, now smiling brightly. "Oh my god!" Sue jumped up from her seat.

Soon we were being congratulated, hugged and asked a plethora of questions. When the excitement eventually died down we all sat back at the table. "This is the best Christmas gift we could ever get," Sue said softly. "When did you find out?" Adrian asked.

"I found out last week and I told Harry this morning. I wrapped up the pregnancy test, his reaction was priceless." I chuckled as I thought back to the surprise on his face and the cute little smile as he wrapped me in a bear hug and told me how much he loved me.

"This morning?! Gosh," Rosie huffed. "How on earth did you keep that secret?" She continued. "With difficulty but I wanted it to be a surprise for Christmas, since it means a lot to us."

Later as me and Harry lay next to each other in the bed my mind wondered to just three years ago when we'd decided to see where our relationship could go, I would've never imagined we'd be where we are now, so happy and grateful that we bumped into each other in that little shop three years ago.

[brookediamonds]

these hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me | Axel Kovačević x fem! reader

based off this request

summary: after moving to the states from Hong Kong, you join a local dojo to pursue your love for karate and try to move on from the past you left behind. that included your ex-boyfriend that broke up with you right before you left. and little do you know, you'd come face to face with him once again.

Wc 2.k Warnings: none, fluff, angstttttt

not my gif

You had dreaded this moment. The day your dojo was invited to the Sekai Taikai, you prayed you wouldn't have to see him again. But there he was, dressed so nice in his green uniform, his captain's head band tied around his forehead you loved to kiss.

Axel Kovačević stood across from your team with the Iron Dragons, your former team. And now with seeing Tory stand with Cobra Kai, you couldn't help but feel sick to your stomach.

"You look like you're about to throw up," Miguel whispers over to you seeing your ill state.

"I might," you admit honestly.

"Maybe we can talk to her," Sam spoke up next to you.

"Yeah," you whisper knowing Tory wasn't the one consuming your thoughts.

Axel watched as the tall curly haired boy next to you reached behind you and rubbed your back comfortingly. Had you moved on? Who was this guy touching you?

After the head guy of the competition introduced all of the teams, and talked about the history of the Sekai Taikai, you're released for the day due to mingling events the sensei's have to attend and activities for the students to do.

As everyone was assigned to their designated rooms, you stood with Miguel and Sam waiting for Robby to return back to the group as he went to talk to Tory.

"Maybe I can ask my dad if we can go to one of the restaurants near here for dinner," Sam said scrolling through her phone seeing the map around the area.

"Johnny said all the student's are being treated to dinner at some restaurant nearby," Miguel interjected glumly.

"All the students?" You froze. That meant...

"(Y/n!)" You recognized her accent, the perky fake attitude hidden behind her voice.

"Why's that girl coming over?" Sam questions you.

"Well long time no see," Zara approaches you a smug look on her face. You roll your eyes, turning to face the people you least wanted to see.

"Hi, Zara," you respond curtly crossing your arms over your chest.

"Sorry Axel couldn't say hi," she dramatically pouts. "He's busy finding our room. Cause we're together."

Our room? They were together?

"Can't say I'm surprised, you always did come up second to me," you tsk'd, tilting your head.

Sam and Miguel raised their eyebrows, eyes widening at your pettiness. They knew you could hold your own, but this was a new side of you they'd never seen before. And they were all for it.

Zara shot daggers at you, scoffing at your remark.

"Watch your back," she threatened glaring at you before walking away.

"Okay, start connecting those dots," Miguel and Sam step towards you wanting clarification. You stared off thinking back to when Axel ended things between you two.

A year ago...

You stretched on the mat of your dojo, distracted by the news your parents just gave you. Your mom received a promotion at work and the new position took place in Los Angeles, California.

You loved where you had grown up, even though you're originally from the states, you had spent the last ten years here. No dojo would be able to go through the same lengths as this one.

And California sure as hell didn't have Axel Kovačević, your current boyfriend. You had fallen in love with his dedication and quiet demeanor. He was your favorite mystery.

Seeing Axel walk into the dojo, you stood up on your feet and walk up to him.

"Hey," you greet him softly wrapping your arms around his frame. Axel goes stiff making you frown.

"Everything okay?" You ask pulling back from his body.

"Yes, need to go change," he says abruptly avoiding eye contact with you. Your shoulders deflated, at his sudden distant attitude. The only time he does this is when something is on his mind.

The next few hours of practice feel extremely long, especially when your sensei is taking every opportunity to call you out on every mistake you make.

When class is over, you wait outside the building for Axel, hoping you could talk him through whatever was on his mind.

"There you are," your boyfriend says seeing your figure standing alone outside the doors.

"I was waiting for you," you give him a small smile. Axel gives you a faint smile, his eyes still not entirely meeting your own.

"Axel, what's the matter?" You ask reaching out to stroke his arm. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

"I- I think we should break up," he says hesitantly. You feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

"What?" You blink, thinking maybe you misheard him. Maybe make out?

"I do not feel we belong together, I am sorry if this hurts your feelings," he says robotically. You drop his hand making him look down at you.

"D-Did I do something?" You stutter trying to find out where you went wrong this past week.

"It's not you," he shakes his head. "I think this is for the best."

You try to hold back the tears that swell in your eyes, his words cutting deep into you. None of this had made sense.

"Axel, I don't understand-" you begin to talk but he cuts you off with an impatient sigh.

"I do not want you anymore, (Y/n)!" He raises his voice startling you.

Oh. You nodded quickly wiping away the fresh hot tears cascading down your cheeks. He didn't want you anymore, he outgrew you.

"Got it," you muttered no longer looking at the boy you adored. "I'm not enough for you anymore."

"(Y/n)," Axel attempted to reach out for you but you had taken a step back not wanting to hear his excuses.

"Don't," you warn him making him stop in his place. "You made yourself clear."

He dropped his hand, watching your face turn to stone.

"Goodbye, Axel," say coldly before walking in the opposite direction, away from him.

Little did he know it would be the last time he saw you. When he saw your empty locker the next day, he was dumbfounded, no way you left this dojo just because of him.

He then learned a few weeks later, you were gone. You left home and there was no way of getting you back.

Present

"Last I heard, Sensei Wolf had lost the dojo to gambling, but I guess he got it back," you explained to your friends.

You, Sam, Miguel, and Robby hung out in your room waiting for it to be time to go to the aquarium.

"So this Axel guy, you two used to date?" Robby asked carefully.

"Yup," you respond lowly. "Didn't last that long."

"I can't imagine how weird this must be for you," Sam empathizes with you. You've always appreciated her grace, it's something that lacked severely at your last dojo.

"Not really," you admit sheepishly. "Iron Dragons had the best fighters, but it doesn't mean we worked well as a team."

Sam gave you a look knowing that's not what she meant.

"I moved on from him, we broke up before I left town anyway," you shrug off, avoiding their gazes.

At least you think you moved on.

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Your body was on high alert everywhere you went, the boy you fell in love with still gave you the same nerves he had given you on your very first date.

And you hated it. You were supposed to hate him after he did what he did to you. He made you feel small, like you were nothing.

Miyagi-Do made sure to never let you feel that way again. They accepted you for who you were and all that you are.

"You've got be kidding me..." you mumble seeing Axel and Zara sit diagonal from you, a couple of seats down from Robby and Miguel whom directly across from you and Sam.

"What's the matter?" Sam asks filled with concern. Her eyes trail down the table, landing on the issue that was bothering you. She lets out an angry sigh.

"Do you wanna move further down?" She suggests thoughtfully.

"No, we were here first," you held your head high, adjusting the menu in your hold. Sam nods, and from the corner of your eye you see her gesture to the people to the left of Miguel and Robby making them glance that way.

"There's so much room down there, they had to pick the chairs closest to us," Robby shakes his head in annoyance.

You can't help but giggle at your friend's protective state, one thing about this friend group; they will treat you like their own family.

"What's funny?" Miguel asks trying to see the comical side of this ordeal.

"Nothing," you grin at the three confused teenagers. "I just... love you guys."

"We love you too," Sam reciprocates wrapping an arm around you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You follow suit, laying your head on top of hers.

Unbeknownst to you, Axel is watching everything that happens. He sees your beautiful smile, the one that only a few people can bring out of you, it makes his heart ache.

He hears your laughter from down the table and can't help but want to know what was so funny? Who was making you gasp for air from how hard you were laughing?

He had missed the sound of your sweet giggles, to hear them again made him crack a smile he hardly wore now that you were gone.

For a brief moment, your eyes wonder down the table and connect with a pair of dark blue irises making your heart jump. Do you smile? Wave? Look away?

Before one of you can acknowledge each other, Zara catches sight of the two of you and holds her phone up in front of her and Axel making you break eye contact.

Right, they're together.

You focus back on Robby, slightly turning your body so you didn't have to face Axel the rest of the night.

When dessert was being passed around, you excused yourself needing to use the bathroom.

After you finished your business, you walked out into the hall but stop in your place when you see the tall Croatian boy standing a few feet away from you.

"Hey," Axel greets you, his deep voice sending a flutter through your heart.

"Hi," you exhale, taking in the sight of the boy in front of you. He wore a pair of black joggers, a red t-shirt, and his black jacket you would borrow time from time.

You make your way to walk past him, when he tugs at your hand, twirling you around to pull you in close, and smashes your lips together.

Fireworks erupted through your stomach, as he ran his hand through your locks, tugging your body close to his as much as possible.

You gasped shoving the boy back, realizing what had just happened.

"Why did you do that?" You demanded, tears brimming in your eyes.

"There's something you need to know," Axel says desperately making you shake with anger.

"You broke up with me," You pointed to yourself, reminding him he was the one who wanted out. "You said you didn't want me anymore."

"Is everything okay over here?"

You turn to see Robby standing behind you, his eyes filled with concern for you.

"All good," you smile faintly at your co-captain, walking towards him wiping away your salty tears.

"(Y/n)-" Axel reaches out for you again only for Robby to step in front of you.

"Let her go, man," Robby says calmly. Axel's face fell as you avoid his gaze.

Your friend wrapped an arm around you as you crossed your arms, guiding you away from your ex-boyfriend.

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

Sleeping was inevitable. You tossed and turned unable to get comfortable. There's something you need to know?

Ripping your sheets off, you quietly get out of bed and write a note for Sam incase she wakes up wondering where you went.

You decide to head to the hotel's gym to practice your breathing work that Sensei Toguchi taught you when you're feeling overwhelmed.

As you walked into the studio, you're taken by surprise when you see someone else was borrowing the room.

"Oh," you see Axel turn to you mid-move his eyes widening.

"S-Sorry," you apologize, "I'll go."

"Wait," Axel walks towards you, stopping when you start fidgeting with your fingers knowing it was a nervous tick you had.

"I do not apologize for kissing you," he confesses. "I missed you."

You shut your eyes, groaning at his words.

"You're with Zara," you point out to him. "You can't kiss me and be with her at the same time."

"I am not with Zara," Axel furrows his eyebrows, a small frown evident on his face. There was a jump of excitement that ran through you but then you remembered how things ended.

"Fine, with her, not with her, it's all the same," you mumble. "You ended us after a few months, with no explanation."

"I did not want to," he says urgently afraid you'd leave before finally being honest with you.

You narrowed your eyes at the guilty boy across from you, confused at what he was getting at.

"Sensei Wolf said we became distraction for each other," Axel explains.

A distraction?

"I did not want to hold you back, so I followed sensei's orders," he states. "I let you go so you could continue being the best fighter you could be."

You moved to sit down near the closest bench processing what he had just informed you.

"But now that I see you here, with those other guys," his hands turn into fist, tightening at the thought of them making you smile. "It makes me angry, I made mistake breaking up with you."

Axel tests the waters and moves to stand in front of you. You glanced up at him, slowly standing up your face only meeting chest level with the lengthy boy.

"Those guys are my friends, they're my family now," you explain softly. His familiar cologne filled your senses causing tingles to run through your body. You had missed him, all of him.

A year wasn't nearly long enough to forget what you two had, you still loved every little thing about him. His adoring freckles, his calming demeanor, his hard to pull smile.

"They look like they love you," he scoffs holding back an eye roll.

"They do love me," you say matter factly. "Because we're a team, we look out for each other."

"Do they love you as much as I do?" He asks throwing you for a loop. He closed the gap between you two, moving your hair over your shoulder.

You shuddered as Axel ran the back of his pointer finger over your cheek, finding it difficult to keep holding your wants back.

"They might," you murmur raising your hand to mess with the zipper of his jacket. He leans down, hovering his lips above yours, his warm breath mixing with your own.

"Do they kiss you like I used to?" He whispers before capturing your lips with his. It's passionate but sweet, making you chase after his lips when he pulls away.

"Maybe," you respond breathlessly as he tilted your head to the side giving him access to leave soft pecks down your neck.

"Do they even know what it takes to handle a woman like you?" He spoke lowly against your skin, tugging at the back of your hair lightly to make you look up at him.

You bit your lip, eyes hazily meeting his own.

"Probably," you teased. Axel ran a thumb across your bottom lip before diving in to brush his lips against yours, this time his tongue explored your mouth, getting to know it all over again.

When you come up for air, he leans his forehead against yours, pecking the tip of your nose.

"I am afraid if I let you go again, I will never see you, kiss you, or touch you, again," he frowns, rubbing your back soothingly.

"Then, don't," you beg. "I've missed you too."

"You do?" He asks searching for an answer in your eyes. You bring your hand to stroke his cheek.

"I always do," you respond. "Everyday."

"I do not care what sensei says, I love you and I will do anything to be with you again," he states.

"Anything?" You ask raising a skeptical eyebrow. Axel laughs pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

"Anything and everything," he promises leaving a sweet kiss to the top of your hair.

Anything and everything was true, Axel and you kept in contact the next few months until you both graduated and finally flew to see one another.

Turns out the study abroad program you applied to back in September had an opening in Europe making things just a little bit easier to see the man you loved.

[delopsia]

Overheard someone muttering about flu season earlier and it really got me thinking about the differences between you and Rhett getting sick.

When Rhett is sick, you don't have the slightest clue about it until after he comes home from work. A lot of it has to do with the fact that his brain doesn't start working until he's in the truck and halfway to the ranch, and by that point, he's already out, dressed, and wide awake.

To him, it doesn't make sense to turn around and go home, so he just does what he's always done and sucks it up. Chugging through stomach aches, fevers, sinus headaches, sneezing fits, nausea. Unless he feels like the two-hour drive to the hospital is necessary, he's working through it.

You'll be lounging on the couch at the end of the day, and all of a sudden, the embodiment of death walks through the front door. Rhett doesn't get sick often, but when he does, it's bad. Eyes glazed over, nose red, voice long gone, coughing through his attempts to tell you he's fine.

If you somehow catch onto him being sick before he leaves in the morning, then getting him to stay and lay back down is a goddamn battle, but in the afternoon, he's so worn down that all it takes is one little tug of the arm.

He's snuggly as can be when he's like this, and as cute as it is, you've got to be careful because once those arms are around you, you're trapped. Especially if he's managed to rest his head against your chest or belly; nothing short of begging and bribery will set you free.

Rhett's not incompetent; he'll try to look after himself when he's sick, but he's...not very good at it. He'll scrounge up medicine from the cabinets and nibble on crackers, but there's room for improvement.

If you want to fuss over him, feed him different medicines in hopes of finding one that works, and cook him meals, then you absolutely can, but he'll never ask or pressure you into doing it. The most he usually does is ask you to play with his hair or to just lay with him for a little bit.

Weirdly, his horse even seems to know when he's sick. She starts doing this thing where she'll try directing them back to the barn, and on the days when he's particularly out of it, she's gotten him all the way there. The going theory is that it's because she knows he'll brush her and feed her treats until he feels like standing, but Rhett just thinks she's being sweet on him.

When you're sick, Rhett does his best to take care of you in the only way he knows how. If you wake up ill and insist on going to work, then he's not going to stop you unless he's genuinely concerned about you being left alone.

He doesn't force you into anything; he knows full well how aggravating that can be and that you're an adult who can make their own decisions. With the nature of his job, he's all too familiar with not being able to call out, and the last thing you'll want to hear is him fussing at you on top of you feeling horrible. But don't get surprised when he moseys up behind you and starts kissing on your cheek, asking if you're really sure.

Regardless of whether you go or stay home, if it's a weekday, then he usually can't stay and look after you (blame the cows), but he'll text, call, and pull a few favors to be home earlier than usual. Always armed with a little grocery bag full of medicines that he knows you prefer, your favorite snacks, a stuffed animal, and a can of precautionary soup.

(Read: You both got horribly sick during a blizzard and decided soup was the best option for dinner. Only for both of you to learn that there were no ingredients to make it from scratch and that the can in the back corner of the cabinet had expired two years prior.)

If you want something homemade, then...he will try his best. Rhett has better luck with eight seconds on a bull than he does in the kitchen, and fires are a commonality, but the whole ordeal usually ends in something edible. It may not be as good as when you make it, but hey, maybe it only tastes different because you're sick.

One thing Rhett's really good at, though, is distraction. One of the worst parts about being sick is being constantly aware that you feel terrible. Movies, long drives in his truck, cuddling under a dozen blankets while he traces shapes into your skin, long baths. He can always find a way to distract you, even if that means he spends half the night telling you about rodeo nights and things that have gone horribly wrong on the farm.

Regardless of who is sick, though, one thing is consistent, and that's Cecelia! One phone call is all it takes, and that's assuming she hasn't already caught wind of what's going on.

If you live close enough, she's always offering to bring homemade chicken soup, local honey, and teas. Is there anything you need her to bring? Anything she should pick up from the grocery store on her way over? She's not one to overstay her welcome, but do expect her to offer to bring over part of dinner tomorrow so that neither of you have to worry about cooking.

But if you don't live within driving distance, she's always got a few remedies or soup recipes that she can walk one of you through. For as busy as she is, one of her biggest things is being able to just be there to talk or be a comforting presence, even if you don't have anything to say.

[emjayewrites]

a king & his queen • ibou konaté oneshot

SYNOPSIS: Ibou loves his wife — period, point blank.

WARNINGS: cursing, sex scene, mentons of religion, rude/judgmental parents - 18+

TAGLIST: @kj77, @ibouchouchou, @saturnville, @lev-1-1, @irishmanwhore, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @f1-football-fiend @peyiswriting

Ibou worshipped his wife.

Some called him whipped, however. Down bad even.

The comments on his Instagram always got him laughing. Twitter buzzed with playful memes about how he turned to putty around his wife. "Biggest simp in the Prem," they'd joke, posting clips of him gazing at Saniya during post-match interviews or adjusting her coat as they left Anfield. He'd even dropped a heart emoji in response to every tweet or comment.

Ibou wore their teasing like a badge of honor—let them talk.

But see, that was the thing about finding your person at twenty-four. You didn't care what anyone else thought.

"Babe, you sure you packed your earphones?" Saniya was triple-checking their carry-ons in the Liverpool Airport lounge, her curls falling into her face as she dug through her designer backpack. "You know how your ears get on long flights."

"In my pocket." Ibou patted his hoodie, then reached over to tuck that stubborn curl behind her ear. "And I packed your anxiety meds, your favorite snacks, and that lavender roll-on thing you like."

She looked up at him with those eyes – part Southeast Asian from her mum, part Nigerian from her dad – and his heart did that thing it always did. Like someone had pressed pause on the whole world.

"What would I do without you?" she asked, leaning into his side.

"Good thing you'll never have to find out." He dropped a kiss on her forehead, gentle and quick. Even after one year together, these little moments still felt like stealing something precious.

The flight attendant called for business class boarding, and Ibou felt Saniya tense slightly. Flying wasn't her thing, never had been. That's why he'd booked the morning flight – she did better with daylight travel, one of those little details he'd filed away in his heart like other men memorized stats.

"Je suis là," he murmured as they walked through the jet bridge, his hand finding its home in the small of her back. "Right here, always."

Their seats were everything he'd hoped for when he'd spent hours picking the perfect ones – by the window because Saniya liked watching the clouds, but not too far back where the turbulence hit harder. He helped her settle in, pulling the blanket from its plastic wrap before she even asked.

"You're doing too much," she said, but her smile said different.

"Doing exactly enough for my wife." He loved saying that. Wife. Six months married and it still tasted like honey on his tongue.

The plane started its taxi, and Saniya's hand found his, their fingers interlacing like they'd been practicing this dance forever. Maybe they had been. Maybe that's why everything clicked that first night they met, when his teammate's wife had invited them both to dinner in London.

He remembered how she'd worn this blue dress that brought out the bronze hues in her skin, how she'd asked him about football but really wanted to know about the person behind the jersey. Most girls he met were already following him on Instagram, had their minds made up about who Ibou Konaté was supposed to be. But Saniya? She'd looked right through all that noise and seen him – just him.

Their love story wasn't conventional by any means: the Muslim footballer and the demisexual psychology graduate who didn't share his faith but understood his soul. Saniya's demisexuality meant emotional intimacy came first, long FaceTime conversations that stretched into dawn, shared silences that said more than words had built their connection slowly, beautifully. By the time they first kissed, four months into dating, he felt like he'd known her in a past life. And then he proposed two months later because why wait when you knew for certain she was the one?

"Remember when you tried to impress me with your French?" he teased now, watching her get comfortable under the blanket.

"Shut up," she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. "I still say 'croissant' better than you say 'innit.'"

"That's because you're from London and I'm—"

"A proper French boy who thinks he's too cool for slang?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Mr. 'I Only Wear Designer But Still Steal My Wife's Hoodies'?"

"They're comfortable!" He defended himself with a grin. "And you steal my shirts all the time."

"That's different." She yawned, already getting drowsy as the plane climbed through the clouds. "I'm your wife. I have rights."

Rights. Like she needed any official permission to take whatever she wanted from him. His shirts, his heart, his whole world – it was all hers anyway. His teammates never let him live down about how soft he got around her, but that was their problem. They hadn't figured out yet that being strong meant knowing when to be gentle.

The plane leveled out somewhere over Europe, and Ibou watched Saniya drift in and out of sleep against his shoulder. She'd been nervous about this trip, not just because of the flying thing. "What if you need physio while we're there?" she'd asked last week, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "What if the injury—"

"The injury's fine," he'd promised, pulling her into his lap right there in their kitchen. "I'm fine. And you know why? Because I've got the best care in the world right here."

Now, watching her breathe softly beside him, he thought about how lucky he was. Two injuries this season had knocked him sideways, yet she'd been his constant. Running him bath salts after rehab. Making sure he ate properly. Never once making him feel less than whole when the press speculated about his future.

"Stop staring at me," she mumbled without opening her eyes.

"Can't help it." He brushed his lips against her temple. "You're too beautiful."

"You're too much." But she snuggled closer, and his heart did that expanding thing again, like it couldn't quite contain everything he felt for her.

The flight attendant appeared with their lunch service, and Saniya stirred properly awake. Ibou had made sure to pre-order halal for himself and that salmon dish she loved. Little things. Always the little things.

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?" He asked as they ate, his voice low enough to stay private in the cabin.

"Only about a hundred times." She rolled her eyes fondly. "But go on then."

"You were wearing that blue dress..."

"You and this dress!"

"It was a beautiful dress, mon cœur. And you were sitting there at Mo's dinner party, talking about your psychology thesis like it was the most fascinating thing in the world."

"It was fascinating," she protested, but her eyes were soft with memory. "A study on athletic performance anxiety and cultural pressure in first-generation immigrants."

"See? Even now, you light up talking about it." He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I remember thinking, 'This girl has no idea who I am, and it's perfect.'"

She laughed quietly. "I knew exactly who you were, babe. I just didn't care."

"Exactly." The word came out like a prayer. "You saw me. Just me."

Some turbulence hit then, making Saniya grip his hand tighter. Ibou switched seamlessly into comfort mode, pulling her closer, murmuring sweet nothings in French until her breathing steadied again.

"Tell me about the villa again," she said, clearly wanting the distraction. "What's the first thing we're going to do when we get there?"

"First? Get you settled. There's this massive bathtub with a view of the Gulf…" He painted the picture for her, watching her eyes light up at each detail. "Private beach access, infinity pool that looks like it melts into the ocean. No cameras, no schedules. Just us."

"Sounds perfect." She yawned again, the gentle hum of the engines lulling her. "Wake me when we're landing?"

"Always."

That was their thing, really. Always. Not just the big moments like wedding vows or injury recoveries. But the small ones too. Always checking her tea was the right temperature. Always knowing when she needed space to read or cuddles to decompress.

The flight tracker showed they were somewhere over Turkey when Saniya stirred again. "Been thinking," she mumbled.

"Dangerous, that."

She pinched his side playfully. "Been thinking about what my mum said. About us being too young for marriage."

Ibou tensed slightly, but her next words melted him.

"She was wrong, wasn't she? Because this – us – it feels like the most grown-up thing I've ever done. The most real thing."

______________________________________________

Dubai appeared below them like a jewel box spilled across the desert, all glittering towers and impossibly blue water. The captain's voice crackled over the speakers announcing their descent, and Ibou squeezed Saniya's hand.

"Almost there, baby."

Landing was smooth, thank Allah, and Saniya's relief was visible as they stepped into the terminal's cool air. Their driver was waiting in arrivals, holding a discrete sign reading simply "KONATÉ."

"Assalamualaikum," the driver smiled warmly, reaching for their bags.

"Walaikum assalam," Ibou responded, while Saniya echoed the greeting with practiced ease.

"I am Hassan. Welcome to Dubai." He led them to a sleek black Mercedes, the AC already running against the afternoon heat. "The villa is ready for you, and the weather is perfect for swimming today."

The drive from the airport was like watching a movie of impossible architecture, each building more striking than the last. Saniya pressed close to the window, phone forgotten in her lap.

"Mad, isn't it?" she whispered to Ibou. The city stretched endlessly around them, a mix of ultra-modern and ancient that somehow made perfect sense.

Hassan proved to be the perfect guide, pointing out landmarks with quiet pride as they made their way to Palm Jumeirah. "Your villa has the best sunset view on the beach," he mentioned, catching Ibou's eye in the rearview mirror. "Very private, very peaceful."

The front gates opened to reveal their home for the next week, and even Hassan's description hadn't done it justice. The villa rose from its private beach like a modern dream with all clean lines, wooden accents, and endless glass.

"Ibou, this is..." Saniya breathed, stepping out of the car.

But words failed her, and that was okay. Some moments didn't need them.

Hassan helped them with their bags, leading them through massive glass doors that slid open silently. The entrance opened into a space that seemed to float between sky and sea, the late afternoon light painting everything gold.

"The kitchen is fully stocked," Hassan explained, setting down their bags. "Your private chef will arrive at seven, unless you prefer a different time?"

Ibou glanced at Saniya, who was still taking everything in. "Seven is perfect, shukran."

"The pool controls are here," Hassan demonstrated on a sleek panel. "And this button calls the concierge. Anything else you need?"

"We're good," Ibou smiled. "Thank you, brother."

After Hassan left, Saniya kicked off her shoes and padded across the cool marble floors. "This is actually ridiculous," she laughed, spinning slowly. "How did you even find this place?"

"Did my research, didn't I?" He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. The wall of windows in front of them framed the Gulf like a painting. "Had to make sure it was perfect."

"You spoil me."

"That's the plan."

She turned in his arms, reaching up to touch his face. "Shower first or explore?"

"Shower. Definitely shower." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "Then I want to see that smile when you discover the rooftop garden."

"There's a rooftop garden?!"

Their laughter echoed through the villa as they grabbed their bags and headed upstairs. The master bathroom was bigger than her first flat, with a freestanding tub positioned to face the sunset.

"Oh my days," Saniya whispered, running her hand along the marble counter. "We're never leaving."

"Fine by me." Ibou was already unpacking their toiletries, setting out her favorite products exactly how she liked them. "Though I think the gaffer might have something to say about that."

The shower was all steam and quiet giggles and Saniya using Ibou as a wall to lean against while she washed her hair. These were the moments no one saw – just them, just peace, just love without cameras or commentary.

Wrapped in fluffy robes later, they wandered onto their private terrace. The sun was starting its descent, turning the water to liquid gold.

"I can hear you thinking," Ibou murmured, pulling her close.

"Just happy," she said simply. "Just really, really happy."

The call to prayer floated over the water, and Saniya squeezed his hand. "Go on. I'll finish unpacking."

But before he could move, she pulled him down for a proper kiss. Slow, sweet, familiar. A thank you, a promise.

While Ibou prayed, Saniya unpacked with the methodical care she brought to everything. His favorite sweatpants folded just so. Her books stacked on the bedside table. Little pieces of home scattered across this dream villa.

They dressed quickly and their chef arrived precisely at seven, a warm-faced woman named Lailah who spoke English with a soft Lebanese accent. "I've prepared a special menu for your stay," she explained, moving through the kitchen with practiced ease. "All halal, of course, and I remembered your note about seafood being a favorite?"

Saniya's eyes lit up. "You're an angel."

The scent of grilled fish and aromatic rice soon filled the villa. Ibou set up their dinner on the terrace, arranging cushions on the outdoor sofa. The sun was almost gone now, painting the sky in impossible purples.

"This is mad," Saniya said for probably the hundredth time, curled up against him as they ate. "Like, actually mad."

"Good mad though, yeah?"

"The best mad." She popped another grape in her mouth. "Though the group chat is going mental. Mads keeps demanding photos."

"Let them wait." He pulled her closer. "This is just for us right now."

The evening settled around them like a warm blanket. They could hear the gentle lap of waves below, the distant hum of boats, the soft whisper of palm fronds in the breeze. Saniya had changed into one of his t-shirts, drowning in the fabric but looking so right it made his chest ache.

"What?" she asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing." He smiled. "Everything."

After dinner, they explored the rooftop garden. Fairy lights twinkled between potted palms, and a swinging daybed beckoned them. Saniya immediately claimed it, pulling Ibou down beside her.

"Remember our first proper date?" she asked, playing with his fingers. "When you tried to be all smooth and sophisticated?"

"Tried? I was smooth!"

"Babe, you knocked over an entire bottle of water trying to pour it."

"That was tactical," he protested. "Made you laugh, didn't it?"

"Everything about you made me laugh." She looked up at him, her face soft in the fairy lights. "Still does."

The night air was perfect, just cool enough for her to snuggle closer. Below them, Dubai sparkled like scattered stars, but Ibou wasn't looking at the view. How could he, when she was right there?

"We should probably sleep soon," Saniya yawned. "Get over this jet lag."

"Probably," he agreed, making no move to get up. "Or we can just stay out here....all night."

"All night?" Saniya scoffed in mock disapproval. "You're crazy."

"Crazy about you, Mrs. Konaté," he quipped automatically, giving her a wink. Ibou’s grin softened as he reached for her, his touch was warm, grounding her in a way that felt both familiar and electric. He brought one hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against her knuckles before meeting her gaze again.

"Saniya," he murmured, his deep voice laced with something that made her heart skip a beat.

She tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Mr. Konaté?"

Instead of answering, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them. The moment their lips touched, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. His full lips slanted against hers, soft yet insistent, drawing a soft gasp from her.

Ibou took his time, savoring her taste—hints of the mint tea they had shared earlier and something uniquely her. His hands, large and gentle, cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as though memorizing every inch of her skin. Her soft moan melted into the kiss, and he responded by deepening it, his mouth moving with hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left her breathless.

Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Gently, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment before rising and pulling her to her feet.

"Come," he said softly, his voice laced with tenderness as he led her downstairs, their fingers intertwined.

The journey to their bedroom felt suspended in time, each step heightening the anticipation between them. When they reached the room, the moonlight streaming through the curtains cast a silver glow across the bed.

Ibou turned to her, his dark eyes filled with an adoration that made her chest tighten. "You’re beautiful," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her face before pressing another kiss to her lips.

This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, as though he was savoring every second. He eased her onto the bed, hovering above her, his weight carefully balanced as his hands framed her face once more. "Tell me if it’s too much," he murmured, his voice low and reverent.

Saniya’s breath hitched, but she nodded. He pressed a line of kisses along her jaw, his stubble grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver. His mouth traveled to the hollow beneath her ear, then down the smooth column of her neck. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, floral intoxicated him.

She leaned into him, her fingers threading through the tight curls at the back of his head as his lips traced the line of her collarbone. Slowly, deliberately, he eased the t-shirt over her head, revealing more of her.

"Beautiful." His hands followed the path of his gaze, calloused fingers trailing over her arms, down her sides, lingering at her hips. He kissed her again, this time on her shoulder, then lower, his lips finding the curve of her breast. His hands mapped her body with care, as though learning her anew.

"Ibou…" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes soft but intent. "I’ve got you," he said simply, his deep voice steady and soothing.

His mouth continued its journey, kissing the plane of her stomach, the curve of her hip. He was thorough, unhurried, savoring her every reaction—the way her breath hitched, the soft sighs that escaped her lips, the way her fingers curled into the sheets.

When he finally moved back up to kiss her lips once more, his hand slipped lower passed her underwear, finding her with a precision that made her gasp. He didn’t rush, didn’t press too hard. Instead, he focused on her entirely, his deft fingers pleasuring her, his eyes watching her closely as he brought her to the edge and then over it, her body trembling beneath him.

He smiled faintly as she came down, her breath ragged. "Always you first," he murmured, his voice a mix of devotion and pride.

When he finally removed the remainder of both their clothing, he entered her fully, and it was with the same care and intention—his movements slow and deliberate. Each thrust was measured, his lips brushing against hers or finding the curve of her shoulder, the soft line of her neck.

He couldn’t believe this was his life—her warmth, her trust, the quiet intimacy they shared. It overwhelmed him sometimes, how deeply he felt for her, how much she meant to him.

Saniya’s nails dug lightly into his back, her moans soft and breathy in his ear, and it only spurred him on. He shifted slightly, adjusting their angle until he felt her tighten around him, her cries growing louder, her body arching beneath his.

"That’s it," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and encouraging. "Let go for me, Saniya."

And when she did, shuddering against him, her head falling back against the pillows, he followed soon after, his release quiet but no less profound.

He collapsed beside her, immediately pulling her into his arms. Their breaths mingled, still heavy, and he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead.

"You okay?" he asked softly, brushing a curl from her face.

She nodded, her lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smile. "Perfect."

Ibou chuckled, the sound low and content. "Good." He kissed her once more, lingering, before resting his forehead against hers. "Because you are. Perfect."

He held her against his chest, their breaths mingling as they lay tangled together. His fingers lazily traced patterns on her back as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Sleep now, Mrs. Konaté," he whispered, his voice soft and steady.

But she only smiled, her fingers trailing over his chest. "Not without you, Mr. Konaté."

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling against her cheek. "I’m not going anywhere."

Dawn painted their bedroom in gentle pastels when Ibou stirred awake. Saniya was still deep in sleep, her curls wild against the pillow. The sheets held the memory of last night's slow, tender intimacy.

He slipped quietly from bed for his morning ablutions, a familiar ritual grounding him in the new space. The bathroom tiles were cool under his feet as he performed wudu, each motion a meditation. Through the vast windows, he could see the first rays of the sun turning the Gulf to molten gold.

Back in the bedroom, Saniya had shifted into the warm space he'd left behind. She always did that, seeking him even in sleep. The sight made his heart swell. Last night had been perfect, the way she'd whispered "I love you" against his skin, the way they'd moved together like waves meeting the shore.

The call to Fajr drifted through the villa. Ibou pressed a feather-light kiss to Saniya's temple before heading to pray, his heart full of gratitude. For her. For them. For mornings like this.

When he returned, she was sitting up in bed, his shirt slipping off one shoulder, scrolling through her phone.

"Morning, baby," she smiled, voice still husky with sleep. Her skin glowed in the early light, marked here and there with evidence of his devotion from the night before.

"Admiring your handiwork?" Saniya teased as Ibou slid back into bed, his fingers tracing a constellation of marks along her collarbone.

"Mhm." He pressed gentle kisses to each one. "Had to make sure everyone knows you're taken."

"Everyone who? The seagulls on our private beach?" But she tilted her head, giving him better access. "You were a man on a mission last night."

"Always am when it comes to you." His voice softened, lips finding that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Speaking of missions…"

She knew what he meant. They'd been letting nature take its course lately – no planning, no pressure. What Allah willed would happen. The thought of a little one with her eyes and his smile… but they weren't stressing about it. Just loving each other, living life, seeing what happened.

"Stop thinking so loud," she poked his chest. "I'm starving. Feed me?"

The kitchen was a chef's dream, but Ibou kept it simple – fresh fruit, pastries from the bakery Hassan had recommended, eggs done just how Saniya liked them. She perched on the counter watching him cook, stealing berries and planning their day.

"So beach first? Then that art gallery you mentioned?"

"Sounds perfect." He slid a plate toward her. "Then I got us reservations at Cavalli for dinner. There's this whole show with dancers and everything."

"Ooh, fancy." She swiped a bit of egg with toast. "Good thing I packed that new dress."

"The red one?"

"Maybe." Her grin was wicked. "Guess you'll find out."

The beach was exactly what they needed. Private, peaceful, just them and the endless blue. Saniya looked gorgeous in her burgundy swimsuit, curls wild from the salt air. They splashed in the waves like kids, Ibou chasing her through the surf until she shrieked with laughter.

"Put me down!" she demanded when he caught her, lifting her easily.

"Make me," he challenged, right before she kissed him quiet.

The art gallery was a modern marvel of glass and steel. They wandered hand in hand through exhibitions, making up stories about abstract pieces, Saniya's psychology training giving her unique perspectives on each artist's mindset.

"This one's clearly about maternal longing," she declared about a swirl of blues and golds.

"Pretty sure it's just a fish, belle."

"Everyone's a critic."

Dinner at Cavalli was something else entirely. Saniya had worn the red dress – a flowing thing that made Ibou forget how to breathe for a second. Their table overlooked the whole restaurant, giving them a perfect view of the show.

"This is insane," she whispered as acrobats spun overhead, music pulsing through the space. The lights caught the gold flecks in her eyes, and Ibou found himself watching her more than the performance.

"You're staring again," she murmured during dessert.

"Can't help it." He reached across the table, thumb brushing her knuckles. "You're the best show in here."

Later, walking along the marina under stars that seemed close enough to touch, Saniya tucked into his side. "Thank you for this. All of it."

"Thank you for being here to share it with."

Because that was the thing about love like theirs. Every moment – from breakfast kisses to beach chases to fancy dinners – was better because they were in it together. No pressure, no expectations. Just them, writing their story one day at a time.

The call came during their third morning in Dubai. They were lounging by the infinity pool, Saniya reading one of her psychology journals while Ibou dozed nearby, when her phone buzzed. The moment he saw her face fall, he knew who it was.

"Hi, Mum," she answered, her voice already smaller. Ibou watched his confident, brilliant wife shrink under her mother's words, and something in his chest tightened.

"No, we're not being irresponsible... Yes, I know the season's not over... No, his injuries are fine..." Each response came quieter than the last.

He could hear Mrs. Okafor's voice through the phone, sharp with disapproval. Something about "gallivanting around Dubai" when they should be "settling down properly." About how "mixed marriages never work" and how "that footballer lifestyle" wasn't sustainable.

Saniya's hand trembled slightly as she ended the call. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at nothing.

"Come here," Ibou said softly, opening his arms.

She curled into him like she was trying to disappear. "I don't know why I let her get to me."

"Because she's your mum." He stroked her hair, choosing his words carefully. "Even when she's wrong."

And she was wrong. So wrong. The woman had never given him a real chance, viewing their relationship through a lens of prejudice and fear. She'd been cold at their wedding, barely hiding her disappointment that her daughter had chosen a Muslim footballer instead of the nice Christian banker she'd picked out.

"She thinks we're rushing everything," Saniya mumbled against his chest. "Says we're too young to know what we want."

"And what do you think?"

"I think..." She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. "I think she doesn't understand that some people just know. Like how I knew, that first night, that you were different. Special."

"Tell me again," he encouraged, wanting to draw her out of that dark place her mother's words had pushed her into. "Tell me about that night."

A small smile touched her lips. "You were wearing that ridiculous designer tracksuit..."

"Excuse you, that tracksuit was fresh!"

"It was awful," she laughed, the sound still a bit watery but real. "But then you started talking about your family in Paris, and your eyes got all soft, and I just... knew."

Ibou pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Want to know what I remember?"

"What?"

"How you put salt in your tea by accident because you were so busy arguing about cognitive behavioral therapy. And when I pointed it out, instead of being embarrassed, you just said 'new recipe, don't knock it till you try it.'"

That got a proper laugh out of her. "I was trying to play it cool!"

"You were perfect." He tilted her face up to his. "Still are. No matter what anyone says."

They spent the rest of the morning just being together. Ibou ordered her favorite foods for lunch, then suggested they skip their planned desert safari in favor of a couples massage at the villa's spa. Sometimes healing meant just being still, being held.

"I love you," she whispered later, as they watched the sunset paint the sky in colors no painter could capture. "Even when my family makes things hard."

"Especially then," he replied, because that's what love was. Being there for the hard moments, the quiet tears, the healing laughs.

On their last night in Dubai, they skipped the fancy restaurants and elaborate shows. Instead, they ordered room service and sat on their private beach, feet buried in sand still warm from the day's sun. The stars seemed bigger here, braver, like they were putting on a private show just for them.

Saniya wore his Liverpool training jacket over her sundress, curls wild from a week of sea air and happiness. She was using his chest as a backrest, both of them stretched out on a huge beach blanket, watching waves catch the moonlight.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in the coconut scent of her shampoo. "We've built something beautiful, haven't we?"

"And we're just getting started."

She was right. Whatever Allah had planned for them – babies, more trophies, challenges, victories – they'd face it together. A team. Partners. A king and his queen, like those fairy tales his little sister loved, but better because it was real.

The call to Isha prayer floated over the water, and Saniya squeezed his hand. Their signal, their rhythm, their dance. But before he moved, she turned in his arms.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For seeing me. All of me. For loving me exactly as I am."

Ibou cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "That's the easiest thing I've ever done."

Because that was the truth of them. Beyond the football, beyond the headlines, beyond family drama and cultural differences and everything else the world threw at them. They saw each other. They chose each other. Every day.

And if the boys at training still teased him for being sprung, if Twitter still called him the biggest simp in the Premier League, if her mum still hoped she'd "come to her senses" – well, that was their problem.

Because Ibou worshipped his wife. Simple as that. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[shidousprincess]

Second chances? They arent always for everyone are they ? Part 1 ( A Oliverxreader endgame sae x reader )

AN~ Hii everyone this is going to hopefully be a 4 part series if I can keep my creativity flowing :)) anyway this is a fic I decided to start writing because a really good friend gave me the idea (you know who you are :33) and i started ranting on the idea draft lol so this is the outcome of it so here we go !!

Warnings:Swearing,cheating,Oliver just being him ig ? ,maybe ooc Sae ? Not sure if I missed anything lmk if I did !!

Word count:1,126

Without further ado enjoy !!

Today, December 20th, the day you’ve been waiting on all year, you and Oliver’s 2-year anniversary, you couldn’t believe it. 2 years with the man you loved the most, you excitedly got out of your bed, putting your slippers on, and walking to your closet, you grabbed your outfit you had picked out over 2 weeks ago whenever you and your friend went to the mall.

Looking at it, you smile, thinking of Oliver’s reaction when he sees you in it. You clutch it to your chest and go back into your bedroom to grab the rest of your clothes, and you head to the shower to ready yourself for later.

As the warm water is cascading down your back, you can’t help but think back on all the fun things you’ve done with Oliver over the years. As you step out of the shower, you grab the skincare/makeup basket Sae had gifted you for your birthday and quickly walk to your bed, and you quickly put some romantic songs on that reminded you of Oliver and your relationship.

You took the utmost time to make sure your makeup was the best you’ve put on in a while while singing along to the music playing. After you’d showered and done your skincare and makeup routine, you put on the outfit and walked over to the mirror, where you admired yourself for a few minutes before looking over at the clock.

It was almost time to head on over to Oliver’s, where you both could go out and have dinner to celebrate. You grabbed your phone and opened the message

from Daddy with underlashes:Hey Y/N, happy anniversary to you and Oliver, 2 years? That’s a long time! Anyway, you’re going to his house to celebrate if I’m not wrong?

Y/N- Hey Sae, thank you, and yes, 2 wonderful years with the love of my life, and to answer your question, yes, I’m going to his house for our date. He’s supposed to be taking me out to dinner. Oh, also look at the outfit I bought a lil while back [Attachment 1 photo of you].

daddy with underlashes You look wonderful, Y/N. I hope you enjoy your time with him!

And with that, Sae left you be, but he couldn’t help but have a feeling today wouldn’t end well, so he got prepared to go to Oliver’s house. So after you got done reading Sae’s text, you left out the door, heading to hop on the bus to Oliver’s house. The ride over to his house went pretty smoothly, a little too smoothly.

Usually the bus would have been packed by the time you hopped on, but it wasn’t, except for 4 people. But you thought not much about it and went on with your day because Oliver was waiting on you. So by the time you reach his front door, you knock, waiting on him to come and greet you like he used to... a few seconds passed, and you tried to knock again, but this time the door slipped open... Hmm, the door is never open; why now? You went inside, peering around; he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

That’s weird, you thought, until you got closer to his room and you heard what sounded like moans. You bust open his door, calling his name, and you were met with a sight you wish you’d never seen: both of them. naked, a girl bouncing on his lap, him below her, hickeys all over his neck with lipstick marks on his lips, you honestly couldn’t believe it. Aiku shoved the girl off him and pulled his pants and boxers back on. “Y/n, this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

You had no words at the moment, choosing to look down at the floor and turn back around to head back out. “Y/n, please don’t leave. “He grabbed your shoulder, trying his best to stop you. “Get your fucking disgusting hands off me, you cheating manwhore.””We can talk about this, Y/N; this was a mistake. You know I love you and you only.” ”No, you don’t stop telling yourself that you don’t fucking love me. If you would’ve, you wouldn’t be whoring around behind my back. My question is, how long has this been going on?”

…”Two months” ...”Two months, eh? Wow, and I’m finding out on our 2-year anniversary of OUR RELATIONSHIP DON'T YOU THINK THAT'S IRONIC? HOW YOU LEAD ME ON INTO BELIEVING EVERYTHING WAS FINE… JUST TO FIND YOU FUCKING SOME WHORE BEHIND MY BACK? YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU AND YOUR STUPID SHIT, YOUR STUPID FUCKING COMPLIMENTS. JUST FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU... I’m done...”

Oliver had no words; all he knew was to let you go.

Your tears wouldn’t stop falling down your face, ruining your beautiful makeup you worked so hard to perfect. As you’re almost to the door, you hear a knock. You rush to open it, not giving a shit who or what it was. You fling it open. It’s Sae. When did he get here? You honestly didn’t give a care in the world at the moment; all you knew was you were kind of glad he showed up when he did.

You flew past him and to the passenger side of his car... Aiku strolls on up to the door, not a single sliver of sadness on his face as he looks at Sae. “So I take it my superstition was correct? ””Yep“." ”How long? ...”"2 months, Aiku said with a sigh... ”Why? Why would you do something like this to someone as wonderful as Y/N? ?“…” As I’ve said before, she wouldn’t let me hit until she was ready, and waiting got to me. You know a man has to do what he has to do. I had needs, and she wouldn’t help satiate them. “… ”That’s fucking horrible to do that to someone.”

“I hope you look back on this day with utter sorrow for yourself and the things you’ve said and done to her… You stooped so low this time, Aiku, and I don’t believe you’ll ever get her back, even if there are such things as second chances“.

Sae then turned on his heel and stormed to his car, where he found you asleep in his passenger seat with one of his hoodies on, tear streaks down your beautiful face…

How could someone do the things Aiku did to someone as beautiful, kind, and caring as you were? He couldn’t and probably wouldn’t ever be able to wrap his head around it, so he did what he thought was best and headed to his house.

Tag: @shrii-kk , @fishii28 , @the-lazyyy-artist +open tag just lmk if you want to be added !!

[bellarkeandclintashaandsuch]

When I saw the preview for ep 6 part 4, I thought the convo on the balcony happened after the kiss. But i'm glad it happened before, and I loved the whole scene. It's adorable when Kawi's like, this place is amaaaazing! And Pisaeng making an official sugar daddy offer was so funny. The way he framed it. I'll take you in, like a stray cat.

I might be reading into it. But I like how Kawi says he still likes Pear. Not, I like Pear, full stop. I still like her. Right now, I like her. I like her for now. But maybe not forever?

And then Kawi doesn't shut Pisaeng down when he says he's patient and he'll wait. He doesn't tell Pisaeng not to wait. He doesn't say he won't change his mind. Pisaeng smiles, and Kawi laughs and says yeah in a way that reads more like, oh okay, just another thing you're good at. But he doesn't dissuade Pisaeng from the notion that waiting might help. I don't think Kawi was intentionally leaving that avenue open, but I think he did. And I'm very happy that happened before the kiss.

[jojikawa]

Beauty and the Beast

An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.

Art by ilameys

Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

Word Count: 5.7k

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.

I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsome…it was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.

You had hoped that eventually, he’d notice you and finally take you on a date!

But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake…?

Well, you didn’t have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.

“Good Morning.”

Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.

“Oh, good morning…” He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.

“How are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.” You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He then yawned before saying “What’s wrong? Are you looking for another?”

You blinked. “Huh?” Your eyes then darted down to your hands. “O-Oh…sure.” You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. “You’re only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.” He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.

“Th-Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!

Thunk!

You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.

You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasn’t busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. You’d be a good wife to him.

On the first day of the job, you didn’t receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didn’t pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day. 

“I hope work is treating you well.” You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. “Any days off soon? I’d like to see you outside of your uniform.” You winked at him and he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day you’d think you would be free?” 

You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said “I don’t really know. I think I’m busy but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. “Oh, no worries.” You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a ‘thank you’ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasn’t something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.

It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didn’t want to seem like a bother. But…then you saw him again.

“Francis?” You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.

“I-ID…?” You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. “Don’t have it on me.” It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled “ID.”

“W-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone who’s already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.” You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.

You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D. 

The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before they’d arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didn’t You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with. 

In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.

“E-Excuse me, but you need to—!”

“Let me in.”

Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too. 

You shook your head. “N-No! I’m not letting a monster in.” You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.

“But I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? I’d love to t-tear it off of you.” The creature’s neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldn’t have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.

“Come on, Darling, I know you’re not about to call those bastards again. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone else.” The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.

3312…

You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.

“Hello?”

“P-Please send help!” You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.

You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. “I just want to taste you…”

The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.

You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didn’t see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”

His grip around your throat was so tight that you weren’t able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you weren’t able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.

The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.

Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didn’t let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance

“P-Please.”

You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.

It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if you’d be a good enough meal for it.

“He-ey, beautiful. It's… okay…” 

The doppelgänger’s speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thing…like it was learning in real time.

Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.

You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.

When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside but…

…you remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.

“Allow me.” The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.

The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. “I see the way you look at him.” Its voice was laced with venom—anger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.

“But you’d never look at me that way…”

The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldn’t run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.

“I-I don’t know what you’re—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong. 

You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.

“Tell me you don’t like it ‘n I’ll stop.” It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. It’s warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.

It’s soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. “Mmm.” It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.

It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain but…it didn’t. You felt the heated bulge beneath it’s bloodied white trousers. It throbbed. 

That’s when it finally clicked for you. It wasn’t playing with you like you were food. It wasn’t trying to taste you and pick it’s teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.

“I—ah~♡!” You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.

It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet you’d become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.

At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it was….soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.

It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. “So…gorgeous.” It pulled you forward. “When I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“Y-You did…?” You squeaked. It’s touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. “Two years I’ve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.”

Piece of meat?

“I don’t know who you mean.” You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it mean…

“F-Francis?” You knitted your eyes together in confusion.

“Yes—HIM!” The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. “…I could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then I’d see the way you look at him.” Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. “So, I became him…but better.”

You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. You’d need to use both hands to hold it.

There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big “man” picked you up by your hair.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. You’ve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.

“I’m gonna split you in half with this cock.” He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.

“I said…open your mouth.”

He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. “Open.” He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull. 

You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slow…or maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat. 

You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. “Good girl.” He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.

“You struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.” You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.

“Keep sucking.” He fucked into your throat and gentle too. “I’m close.”

 Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.

The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. “Hey.” He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. “Swallow.”

You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.

You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. “Bend over.”

You didn’t really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head. 

You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.

He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.

You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You weren’t too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.

“Uah!” You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!

You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. “Mmm.” You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It must’ve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.

With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didn’t stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.

“I-Is that it? Is that what you want…?” You asked, but you were only ignored.

“Pick a hole.”

“Wh-wha—“

“Pick a hole, or I will.”

Pick…a hole…?

His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.

“Um…I—“ 

“Both it is!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep they’d leave marks. 

“W-Wait, you have to go slow!” You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. “I am.” He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didn’t decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didn’t matter how wet you were. He was too big.

It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.

The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasn’t much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.

“P-Please…I can’t take it!” You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldn’t even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy. 

“Beg for it then. Say you love me.” His breath hitched. “Say you want me and I’ll let you go.”

“I—“ Slap! 

You tried to speak. “I wa—“ Slap!

It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, he’d remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldn’t help but smile.

The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldn’t resist you once you were sitting at that desk.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, his deep voice going soft. “My dick isn’t in your mouth anymore…so what’s the issue?” He chuckled. “Beg.”

“I want you!” You blurted out.

“You…want me? Say there’s no one else. Say you love me!” It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.

“I…I love you—“

“FUCK!”

Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.

“I love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagine—“ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. “Here they come.” He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.

You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. “Who’s coming…? What are you talking about…?”

The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all. 

It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. “I found her, she's in here!” Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.

Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.

What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.

After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didn’t sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of you…so now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy. 

You hadn’t seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didn’t. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that it’s been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.

You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didn’t bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.

“Man, I thought you’d never come back.”

You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.

“What are you doing here? What do you—“

“Shh, princess.” He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.

You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that he…it, was attractive? 

“Why didn’t you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?” You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. “Because I love you.” He replied flatly. 

“I don’t know what that means…” 

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door. 

“I’ll get it.” The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn into…you. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.

“No!” You blurted out. “Don’t do that.”

The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.

It was Francis!

“It’s him!” You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.

“Francis? What brings you here?” You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I heard what happened. ‘m so glad you’re okay.” Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked “F-Francis…?”

“I felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.” Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?

Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldn’t help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. “W-Well, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. “I know you are.” He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.

It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that he’s actually had feelings for you all this time, so he’d save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “Stay safe. I’ll check on you again later.”

For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didn’t feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesn’t see you as more than just a neighbor.

Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.

But then….

“You look awfully happy.”

The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didn’t bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.

You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. “I saw everything so don’t even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I would’ve…”

“Don’t hurt him!” You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didn’t budge. “Why not?!”

“Because…I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but you’d do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.

“Shit.” The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemed…conflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.

“You don’t want him. You just wanna marry a guy. I’ll marry you.” 

You shook your head. “No. Y-You can’t. You’re not him.”

“Of course I am.” His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. “You can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.” 

You felt your stomach do a flip!

“No! I’m not calling you that. Even though you look just like him…wh-what do I call you anyway…?” You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.

“Francis.”

“Stop! I’m never using that name for you.” You got angry enough to shove him but he didn’t move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldn’t push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you. 

“Mmm….” You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. “Wh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for you…?”

Franz, huh?

“Perfect.”

Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2

[rambling-at-midnight]

Please Come Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.

Word count: 3.3k

TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults

Your spare key is missing.

Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?

When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.

When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?

You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?

Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.

At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.

You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.

In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?

I think I lost it.

I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?

Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.

I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.

I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you

I love you, too.

A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.

That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.

You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.

It lulls you into a false sense of security.

You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.

With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.

You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.

The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.

Your phone isn’t on the counter.

You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.

Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?

It’s not.

You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.

Still no response from Jason.

You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.

The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.

The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.

And now they’re gone.

Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?

He doesn’t respond right away.

Jay, this isn’t funny.

Still nothing.

Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.

Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.

You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.

You go straight to voicemail.

You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”

His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.

You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.

You chew on your thumbnail.

Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.

He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?

You call Jason again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.

Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.

No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.

Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.

Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.

Empty.

You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.

You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.

Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.

You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”

“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”

“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”

“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”

A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.

You scream.

Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.

He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…

Right into a stranger’s chest.

There are two of them?

An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”

You stab him in the stomach.

Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.

“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.

The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.

“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”

Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.

Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.

The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.

Where is Jason?

You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.

The man’s ugly face explodes.

You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.

More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?

It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.

Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.

Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.

You know those gloves.

Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.

Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.

You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.

You wipe it away.

Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.

You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.

Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.

You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.

Oh, God. Your best friend.

You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.

Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.

She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.

Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.

“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.

“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”

“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”

"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.

He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."

"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."

You nod numbly.

Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.

He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"

As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.

Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.

They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.

He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"

You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.

"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.

Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."

You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.

When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"

As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.

True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.

You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.

"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.

He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.

When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."

"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."

"I could feel that something was wrong."

Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"

"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."

Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.

Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."

Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.

Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.

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[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[pseudowho]

It was in the corridors of Jujutsu High, that Nanami Kento first learned that one of the First Years had gone missing.

Whispers of varying voice rose and fell along the wood-panelled walls as Kento walked with a growing unease. Rumours rose on both sides around him, as if in some uncanny valley.

"...off the rails..."

"...not answering calls apparently..."

"...unauthorised? Gojo's not here..."

"...gone rogue. Sukuna's vessel?"

Kento paused, outwardly unreadable as his blood ran cold, with his hand upon the doorknob. Balanced on a knife edge, he moved again, slow and considered, stepping out before closing the door behind him. His feet paddled madly beneath still water, and Kento pulled out his phone, typing fast.

His phone to his ear. A pause.

"Hi, Fushiguro-kun? Do you know where Itadori-kun is?" A pause. A single flat command. "Tell me, immediately."

Another pause; a nod, a pen and paper not required.

Kento waited until he was completely out of the line of sight, to begin running beneath Jujutsu High's tree-lined torii gates.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Scum.

Yuuji's red boots skid, bloodslick, and he stumbled around a corridor with his breath loud in his ears.

--execute him already--

He wasn't experienced enough for this; but he knew that when he came, hoping to earn his own goodness as proof, to those who determined his worth based on the monster he contained.

--better off dead--

And maybe I am, Yuuji thought, slammed by flailing bestial limbs into concrete, that crumpled like wet paper beneath his body. Slumping down against the wall, Yuuji accepted that the only dignity he could afford himself, would be to choose a good death for himself, as the boy he was, fighting to save lives, instead of the beast within, fighting to take them.

"Itadori-kun. Move behind me. I'll take it from here."

Yuuji looked up from the floor, slow and stunned. Kento stood before him, stony-faced as he bound his spotted tie around his fist, alight with swathes of blue fire.

"...Nanamin...I--"

"I'll scold you after. Behind me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Yuuji's eyes were downcast, and chunks of rubble shook from his hair to his thighs, when Kento slammed his car door. As Kento stepped into his own seat, Yuuji caught the tail end of a conversation.

"...coming home to ours. Gojo knows. He's got it handled with the school. Yes. Alright. We won't be long."

The car rumbled to life. Yuuji's fists clenched in his lap, his face twisted with pain, guilt, the crushing weight of failure and embarrassment. Kento allowed him this, for a few minutes, driving seamlessly through the Tokyo evening traffic.

"Are you going to explain what you were doing, Itadori-kun?"

Yuuji was silent, gagged by the sheer volumes he could speak, all fighting for precedence. He heard the faintest sigh from Kento.

"Yuuji?"

Still, nothing. Kento's hands gripped the wheel a little tighter.

"I see. We shall talk after dinner."

"...you can just drop me back to the school--"

"We shall talk after dinner."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Your hands worried the baggy sleeves of your cardigan before you heard the front door unlock. You stopped, plastering on a smile, and walking over to greet Yuuji as the door clicked open, Kento guiding Yuuji in and shutting the door behind him.

Yuuji's eyes never left the floor to accept your smile. He was thoroughly reduced, hidden behind cloud. Your eyes flicked to Kento, sensing his fixed cool anger, and you redoubled your efforts for Yuuji.

"Busy day, huh? You hungry? I've made lots...come on."

You sat together, tense in silence. Kento ate, robotic and clipped. Yuuji pushed the food around his plate, utterly silent. Kento pressed a napkin to his mouth, lowering it and clearing his throat. He repeated himself.

'Yuuji. Are you going to explain what you were doing?"

Silence. You placed your knife and fork down, your throat thickening with impending confrontation. Yuuji squirmed in his seat as frost formed beneath Kento.

"...I just...just wanted to be useful."

"Useful?"

"...just...wanted to be better than they say I am."

"They?"

You felt Yuuji's stress climbing, racking exponentially with Kento's insistent dig for clarity. You opened your mouth to try to soften Kento's blows before Yuuji blurted.

"Anyone who matters at Jujutsu High thinks I'm scum. Thinks I'm--I'm-- no better than--than him." Yuuji snapped, gesturing to the slits of Sukuna's other eyes on his face, and shoving his plate away with a clatter. Kento bristled, the frost thickening.

"Control your temper, Yuuji--"

"Oh yeah? And why should I? I could have died a good death there-- trying to help people, if you hadn't--"

Kento slapped his napkin down on the table, moving to stand, and you felt yourself shut down beneath the gravity of his rage, knowing it was all concern, but terrifying nonetheless, and you felt the escalation as Yuuji stood, too, facing Kento with combatant teenage fury--

"And who, exactly, were you helping, Yuuji? Were you helping the sorcerers who would have come to rescue you, if I hadn't? You call that a good death, giving the higher ups exactly what they want--"

"--well they can fucking have what they want, then, can't they, nobody gives a shit about me anyway--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

"--nobody fucking cares--"

"I care."

Yuuji's face crumpled, his anger burning out hot and fast. Transitioning from man to boy again, his sleeves rubbed the rage tumbling out as tears.

Kento's chest heaved with the fever-pitch of battle. He turned on the spot, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as he stared up at the ceiling, calming himself. He turned to Yuuji again.

"I care. And I need you safe. And while I cannot fathom the stress you are under, I am so disappointed with you, that you view yourself with the same ill-regard as those with such pithy, ignorant understanding."

Yuuji's hands hung limp at his sides, now, the tears falling freely. Kento rubbed one hand down over his own face, appraising Yuuji with ruffled impassivity.

"...finish your dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

A sigh, weary. "Then go and get cleaned up, and go to your room."

"I...dont have a room, here."

"You do. Third door on the left."

A heavy pause. Slow footsteps carried Yuuji away. Your head rested on steepled fingertips, your dinner churning in your stomach as you bit back nausea.

You thought of all of the words you could say to Kento, but dismissed them as soon as they came into your head; all too visceral, none of them helpful, and maturity held your tongue.

"...you get cleaned up, too. I'll tidy away dinner."

"No, no. You cooked. I'll tidy--"

"Nanami Kento. Do as you are told."

Kento was silent, stewing. Eventually, he stood, walking away down the corridor. You heard two showers, running. You left spare pyjamas in Yuuji's bedroom.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A gentle three knock-knock-knocks sounded at Yuuji's bedroom door, and he sat up fast in his borrowed pyjamas, wide eyes tired in a tearstained face. He sniffled.

"Y-yeah, uh...come in."

You peeked your head around the door, smiling. Yuuji offered a watery smile in return.

"Alright, kiddo?"

Yuuji swallowed thickly, nodding, resting his chin on drawn-up knees. You sat at the end of his bed, pressing a mug of hot chocolate into his hands, and he felt it balm his soul before he had even drunk it; the act of receiving it, so much more significant than its imbibement. You let him warm in the gesture for a moment.

"...he cares about you, Yuuji. A lot. You know that, right?"

Yuuji's mouth puckered, and he shrugged his rejection, churlish. You raised one eyebrow at him, a gentle, chastising challenge, and Yuuji blushed.

"...yeah, I guess. I mean...I...I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

You smirked, eyes twinkling. "What gave it away? Was it the running to save you in battle? Or the bringing you home for dinner?"

Yuuji's mouth was obscured, buried in his knees. He paused. You didn't manage to hear the words muffled by his legs, and you tilted your head to one side.

"...sorry?"

"It was--...was when he said he was...disappointed with me."

[dark-fics-4-you]

In the Night

dark!Ghostface!stepbro!Rafe x f!Reader w a side of JJ x Reader

READ ENTIRE WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING

Warnings: noncon (rape), incest (step siblings), murder, major character death, p in v smut, lowkey yandere themes, knife kink, blood kink, unprotected sex, creampie, Rafe is very obsessed with his little step sister (everyone is 18+)

You cowered behind the car, trying to quiet your shivering sobs. Your mind was racing, barely able to hold onto any thought other than the ghastly scene you had just been forced into.

For months, a masked killer had been terrorizing Kildare and tonight you came face to face with him.

Only to realize that you had been living with him for half of your life.

For the most part, it had been a night like any other, JJ had taken you out on a little dinner date before bringing you back to his house.

You had been dating for several months at this point, a fact that your stepfather, Ward, begrudgingly accepted, but your stepbrother seemed to harbor more resentment towards him than any of the other Pogues.

Just before you had left, Rafe had gotten into yet another argument with you about him, although he had never been so aggressive with you about it before.

“He’s not good enough for you, Y/N! You know he’s just going to get you into trouble.” Your older step brother scolded you.

“Maybe he’d stay out of trouble if you and your gang didn’t bring it to him all the time,” you sniped back, pushing past him to get to the door.

You were interrupted when his hand clamped down hard around your arm just above your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you seriously trying to walk away from me right now?” Rafe growled as he turned to you, his hold still tight on your arm.

“Yeah, I am, JJ is out front waiting for me. Now let go of me, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, a familiar yet unrecognizable glint in his blue eyes. He scanned your face for a moment, tension heavy in the air, before finally reluctantly releasing your arm with a huff.

“Just uh… stay safe, okay, Y/N? You know how dangerous it’s been recently.” You could have sworn you saw a small smirk on his face before you turned to exit.

When you and JJ got back to his place after dinner, the two of you had just gotten out of the car when you heard him yell.

You turned to see a large figure wearing the same ghost face mask you had seen all over the news holding your boyfriend at knifepoint, the blade pressed into his throat.

JJ struggled against him for a moment, but he flinched when the man dug the sharp metal in just a bit.

“Stop fighting, or she dies next.” The man hissed, his familiar voice stopping you in your tracks as you raced around the car to them.

You were several feet away from them but too petrified to move.

“Stop!” You cried out, tears burning at your eyes. You felt terrified and helpless, unable to take your gaze off of your boyfriend.

The masked man ignored you, continuing to speak to JJ, “you don’t deserve Y/N, you know? She’s too good to be with a filthy Pogue like you.”

His words washed over you like a bucket of cold water as you finally recognized his voice and you wanted to be sick.

Your lips parted to beg with him, don't do this, please, don't hurt him don't hurt him!

At the flinch of his wrist, it was too late. You knew it. The blade glinted as it slid across JJ's neck, and you finally found your voice as a cascade of crimson followed its arc and JJ fell to ground.

You screamed as you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You wanted to collapse, and you probably would have if not for the sound of the killer’s horribly recognizable laughter drawing closer.

In the darkness, you turned, stumbling to the ground painfully before picking yourself up again and running before crouching behind the car JJ had been fixing up.

The chilly autumn air made you shiver and your vision was blurred by your tears.

You still hadn’t gotten over your shock when you heard your name being called.

“Y/N,” he taunted, voice getting closer with each step.

Your heart was thundering in your ears so loudly you were scared he could hear it.

“Just come out now and I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He was on the other side of the car now and you felt your stomach clench in terror.

Your eyes widened when he walked around the car, easily spotting you crouched near the back door.

When he ran towards you, you opened the back car door, blocking him momentarily as you climbed in, planning to slide across and run out the other side.

Your fingertips reached for the door handle, but large hand gripped your legs, pulling you back towards him. Flipping onto your back, you tried to kick him off, desperately scratching at his arms with your your nails at the same time.

The man pinned you beneath him, cackling at your pathetic attempts to fight back. In your panic, you grabbed at his face, pulling his mask off at the same moment his bloodied knife came to your throat.

You froze beneath him, staring up into your step brother’s eyes in shock and horror.

“Rafe?” You whispered, tears spilling past your lashes. “Why?”

A sickening grin spread across his lips as he leered above you. “Didn’t I always tell you, sweetheart? JJ isn’t good enough for you. He didn’t know you like I do.”

His free hand came to your cheek, stroking it lovingly and accidentally smearing JJ’s blood across your skin.

“Stop it!” You whimpered, nausea bubbling up in your gut as the coppery scent hit your nostrils. “You’re insane!”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at that, anger darkening his eyes. He drew so close you could feel his breath against your skin, “I’m just trying to protect you-”

“Protect me?!” You hissed, tears streaming down your cheeks now.

Rafe’s nose twitched, frustration written all over his face.

“You don’t get it,” he mumbled, eyes leaving your face and trailing down your chest. “But I’ll show you.”

Rafe removed the large blade from your throat, grabbing the bottom of your shirt before slicing it down the middle.

You whimpered beneath him, trying to cover yourself up, but his knife found your throat again, pressing down slightly.

“Don’t make me hurt you too,” he threatened, his low voice making your stomach twist.

His pupils were blown wide as he took you in.

“No bra?” He grinned wickedly, “guess my lil sis is more of a slut than I expected.”

“Rafe,” you pleaded, voice breaking through your tears as you looked up at him. “Please, I’m scared.”

He groaned at that, pressing closer and you shuddered at the feel of him growing harder against you. You squirmed when his large hand cupped over your tit, squeezing your nipple between two fingers and drawing a whine from your throat.

His lips smothered yours, hungrily tasting you and taking your breath away. With the cold metal at your throat, there was nowhere to turn to get away from him. Nausea churned inside you when he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away finally and put the knife down on the floor to unbuckle his belt, fumbling with his button and zipper before freeing his erect cock from his boxers, not even bothering to push his pants down.

At the sight of your step brother stroking his hard dick above you, your tears started flowing again, disgust and horror mixing with a third emotion you were too ashamed to identify.

Rafe forced your thighs apart, pushing your skirt up to reveal your pink panties.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, pressing his thumb to your covered clit. You squirmed in his grasp, biting your lip to stop your whimpers from escaping.

“Can’t wait anymore,” he breathed through gritted teeth, grabbing your panties and sliding them to the side before lining his tip up with your slick entrance.

“Stop, Rafe-!” your protest was cut off when your step brother pushed himself inside you, stretching your unprepared cunt around him.

You whined loudly, heart skipping a beat when his hand wrapped around your throat, smearing the blood from the knife across your tender skin.

He stilled above you for a moment, taking a shaky breath as he basked in the feeling of your snug walls squeezing around him, tighter than he could have imagined. He inched himself deeper until his tip kissed your cervix.

Rafe leaned closer to you, his lips covering your before he began slowly thrusting into you, increasing his pace with each push of his cock.

You mewled against his lips, confused and disgusted with yourself when you could feel yourself growing wetter around him.

He broke the kiss and you gasped for breath, only for his grip to tighten around your throat.

There was nowhere to go, and Rafe easily caged you in on top of the leather seats of car. You felt claustrophobic, overstimulated by the feel of him rutting into you in the cramped backseat.

The lewd sound of his cock plunging into your slick cunt taunted you, and you couldn’t control the pornographic moans that he was forcing out of you.

His thrusts were brutal, bordering on punishing at this point, and his fingers were squeezing around your neck so tight your vision was becoming fuzzy at the edges.

“Rafe-!” You choked, hot tears burning at your eyes.

The world was spinning around you, the pressure building between your legs. You grabbed onto Rafe, clinging to him tightly in your confusion.

“Tell me you love me,” he groaned, not slowing his pace at all as his thumb found your clit, messily rolling over it.

Your skin crawled at his words, stomach flipping as you nervously shook your head no, but you couldn’t bite back your moan as he teased your tender bud.

You knew that only pissed him off more though, and his grip on your throat tightened in warning.

“Tell your big brother you love him, dumb fucking slut.” He hissed, hitting a spot that made you see stars.

“I-” you whimpered before whispering. “I love you.”

He kissed you hard, growling as he pulled away and resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Tell me again, baby.”

His hips tilted to meet yours, pushing himself deep inside you with each thrust. His thumb lazily traced your clit, pulling you to the brink.

“I love you,” you moaned, primal desires overcoming your thoughts of resisting.

“Again.”

“I love you, fuck, Rafe!” you whimpered as you were pushed over the edge.

Blinding white light exploded behind your closed eyes as you came undone around him. Sinful pleasure tingled between your legs as he fucked you even harder, and he cursed as you squeezed around him.

You couldn’t think straight, much less control your mouth, and the endless string of “I love you Rafe”’s that rolled off your tongue was the reason it wasn’t long before your step brother was painting your walls with his sticky seed.

[gamesetart]

sweet 'n easy

Art thought dating you would be enough. He's content to have your heart, wait until marriage to have your body, too. But it's proving really difficult when you look like that.

tags: art donaldson x fem! reader, open relationship, guided masterbation, reader's kind of messy in this one (corruption), religious themes/corruption of religious themes. nsfw. minors DNI.

a/n: this is part of what im referring to as the open relationship au and im more than expecting to write more about this dynamic! im also very open to suggestions about it

Art Donaldson is a Good Christian Boy. He's a good, smart young man. He wears his thin silver purity ring on his left ring finger. He wears a delicate silver cross on a chain around his neck. He used to sing in the church choir, and now he spends his Sundays volunteering with the children's sector and frequenting church picnics. If it wasn't for tennis, he'd probably be a priest.

You're not right for him, and he knows it. Guys like him aren't made to marry girls like you - girls with low-cut tops that show off the top hem of your lacy electric purple bra. Girls who wear low, low-cut jeans with your matching purple thong hanging out the back. Girls with butterfly-shaped tattoos hovering on your lower back. Girls who spend weekends drinking and clubbing and dancing with absolutely no room for Jesus.

But there's just something about you. Maybe it's your attitude, the way your hand flies up in class whenever you know the answer to a question, the way you speak, with such clarity, such conviction. Maybe it's the way you walk with your friends across campus, beautiful and assertive, a pack of wild hounds. You're terrifying to him. A force of nature, a thunderstorm. Art's managed to get caught up in your jet stream, but it doesn't mean he's any less scared of falling out. You and all your hot, brash, party-girl friends. You and the 'bitch pack', as some of his friends have taken to calling you and yours. The sorority girl, frat party, dim clubs, bitch pack. Girls like you don't give guys like him the time of day: you're too pretty, too powerful, far too high up on an entirely different social ladder.

But you're different. You're sweet. He's watched you stop to pet stray kittens. He's seen you volunteering to donate blood at the campus blood drives. He's seen you stop to help a girl pick up her books even though you were already late to class. He's seen your notes in his biology lecture, your cute, bubbled handwriting and your array of gel pens. He's seen you buy an extra coffee at the campus cafe for a friend. People contain multitudes, or whatever, right?

So maybe it's no surprise when you end up paired up on an assignment and you bring him back to your dorm room. Maybe he shouldn't have been so stunned by the boy band posters and the stacks of fantasy novels and the stuffed bear sitting on your bed. Maybe he shouldn't have been thrown off by your framed pictures - family, friends - and your collection of Beatles CDs. Just a girl. A normal, nice girl. Who lays out all her notes for him, glances up with a sweet smile, and asks,

"Where d'you wanna start?"

He didn't mean for it to go any further than that. For the study visits to start happening at night, after dinner. For you to start blowing off club nights to curl up on your plush blue shag carpet next to art, pointing out lines of text and highlighting things with a bright pink marker. For you to start eating with him at lunch, talking about your lecture, laughing over some stupid thing your professor said or did. For him to start seeing you, really seeing you, and liking that you saw him, too. It happened before he even registered it. Somewhere, somehow, Art Donaldson fell in love.

It's different than how he felt with Tashi. This isn't that painful, all-consuming desire to please, to have her notice him, the obsession with the idea of her and her tennis. This feels sweeter, kinder. This feels like what he used to read about: fireworks in his heartbeat, butterflies in his stomach, the giddy thrill of First Love. A slower, ennobling sort of love.

If he had it his way, he'd date you. Flowers. Expensive dinners by candlelight. Picnics. The works. Court you for the four years you were at Stanford together, then propose once you graduated. Spend a few years engaged so he could do his tennis, make a good amount of his own money. Save until he could plan a dream wedding. Honeymoon somewhere pretty and exotic, like Bali or Punta Cana. Then the country house and the kids, the white picket fence. Except, Art doesn't really ever get things his way, does he?

"I... I don't know," you say slowly, digging your heels into your carpet. You can't meet his sad blue eyes. You can't bear to. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It feels alien, even in your head.

He stares at you, crestfallen. Your heart plummets and you race for an explanation, for some way to explain this without blaming him. Because it's not Art at fault, it's his Faith.

"It's not that I don't like you!" you scramble. "I do, really, Art, I do. I just... a girl has... needs, you know? There are things I'd want that I can't ask you to give me. Things I can't take from you."

You both know what it is. You'd never ask him to give up on or waver in his faith for you. Never. You like Art how he is. But you know you'd be wanting. You know you can't wait until your wedding night.

"I... I'm just not the dating type, Art," you explain mournfully. "And you don't want to date a girl like me, anyway, trust me. You deserve someone nice."

"But... you are nice," Art says, and he really does look like you've just torn his heart out and stomped on it. It's horrible. It's awful. And you feel like a monster for doing it, but what can you do?

He doesn't have a solution until a full week later. He pretends (to you, and himself) that he came up with it all on his own, when in reality it was Patrick's idea. Patrick's suggestion, murmured over the phone in cloying low tones, luring him in like sailor to siren, bee to honey, moth to flame. Art, for all his cleverness, for all his ability to read Patrick like a book, could not see it. He trusted Patrick. He should have, he's sent Patrick some of your pictures, talked about you endlessly. But Patrick was on tour, far, far away, where he could do no harm. And Patrick was taken, as he was so keen to remind Art all the time.

"She doesn't have to fuck you, man," Patrick muses. "Date her. Be her good boy, be her fuckin' sweetheart. She can get dicked down with someone else."

"You're suggesting my girlfriend cheat on me?" Art laughs, and even saying it, my girlfriend, even in hypothetical, makes his heart do a flip.

He can practically picture Patrick's face, screwed up with a mixture of pity and disdain. Poor Art. "Nah, man. I'm suggesting an open relationship, you know? Let her fuck who she wants, she's gonna come home to you."

The conviction in Patrick's voice makes Art's heart somersault. Because there's something about that idea that makes his pulse quicken. Patrick's right. You'll come home to him, your heart - the thing that really matters - will be his. He doesn't like the possessive thing that curls up in his chest and purrs at the idea. But he doesn't fight it.

"What if you didn't have to wait with me?" Art asks.

He's twirling a highlighter over his fingers. Cross-legged on your plush duvet, working at a piece of spearmint chewing gum. Gum you'd offered him, gum that you now kept a small stash of in your desk drawer for evenings just like this. The project you'd been paired up on was long over, the proud 96% sitting in your Stanford grading inbox. Now you're just regular homework buddies. Art sought you out for homework he missed because he was at practice and lecture notes he didn't get. You don't mind. You enjoy it, actually. You just wish you could give him more. Hate that you couldn't be what he deserved. It almost feels like leading him on, when he sits with you until the wee hours, sharing diagrams and passing your textbook back and forth. When he brings you your morning coffee before class, or you bring sandwiches and Gatorade to his practices.

Except now, apparently, he has a solution.

"What?" you ask, blinking at him. "What d'you mean?"

Art flushes. Soft pink. Mostly around the ears, you've noticed, red against the gentle gold of his curls. Evening rose.

"I mean, what if..." he looks away. "You know. You went out with me. Dated me. But you could... 'hook up' with other people when you needed to."

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. Art Donaldson. Is sitting on your bed, asking you for an open relationship? Are you dreaming? Has the world suddenly gone mad? Did you go to bed last night and wake up in an alternate dimesion?

"You... are you suggesting... what I think you're suggesting?" you ask faintly.

He nods, ears burning a truly impressive shade of crimson. You suppose you should be flattered, really, the lengths he's going to date you. Most guys would have given up by now, egos bruised, feelings hurt, hearts shattered. And with most guys, you would have been firmer, clearer, colder. Meaner. But Art isn't most guys. Art is sweet.

"I-- shit, Art, wouldn't you rather just date some other girl like you?" you say helplessly.

"I don't want another girl, I want you," he replies plainly. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there's no other answer.

And that's all it takes for you to agree. It's impossible to say no to those baby doll eyes. The two of you set ground rules - you don't tell him who or where or how, just that it happened. He doesn't ask you any questions. No one leaves you any marks. Immediate friends, such as Art's tennis circle and his church friends, are off limits. And that's that. He's your boyfriend now.

Art thought it would suffice. He likes being with you. Holding your hand while you walk to class. Seeing you in the stands when he plays a match. Chaste little pecks here and there. But you're like a pit of quicksand, a hurricane. You draw him in quicker than he thought possible, and now he can't breathe, can't think, can't move. The corruption is slow, certain, and inescapable.

He starts to find himself wanting more.

A kiss in his dorm room that deepens instead of stops, one hand cupping your jaw, the other floating to rest on the small of your back, above the waist of your low jeans, on the warm, bare skin there. A glance that feels more than affectionate, his eyes roving over your collarbone, the glint of your skin in the sun, the line of your bra beneath your sheer, tight shirt. He sees you smile at another guy and a hot flash of jealousy surges through him as he wonders if this is one of the guys you're fucking, if that guy, that random piece of shit, gets to touch you, see you, feel you. He tamps it down, and it feels too little, too late.

You'd be a fool not to notice. Stupid, not to feel the press of his hard-on when he hugs you from behind. Not to sense the shift in the way he kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips, hands sliding down further than they usually do. He plays it off, always. An accident. The heat of the moment. But you know. And because you're weak, because you're a terrible person, because ruining Art Donaldson is the most beautiful thing to ever happen to you, you let him.

"Art, do you ever touch yourself?"

He falls off his chair in his hurry to spin around and look at you. From the floor of your dorm, he stares with wide blue eyes and pink cheeks. "Wha--"

You shrug. "You know. Do you ever..." you make a crude gesture with your hand, and he buries his face up to his nose in his collar.

"No," he says, muffled into his tee shirt. "It's sinful."

It takes every fibre of your being not to laugh. He's so precious, so pure, sometimes you wonder why a guy like him could ever be interested in you at all. Your looks are one thing - you know you're hot. But Art likes you. He likes you even when he can't fuck you. He liked you even when you told him you wouldn't date him. He likes you because you're you. Which makes you feel a little shitty about what you do next, but you can't help it.

"So, what, when you're hard, what do you do?" you press casually. "Send up a Hail Mary and wait?"

Art's ears, which peek out over his shirt collar, are so red they could have been on fire. He shakes his head, a little frantically. He flushes easily, you notice, blood flowing quickly whenever he's even mildly embarrassed. It conjures images of his cock, whatever it might look like, red and aching with need. And you feel a lot less bad, the mental image of Art's dick fuelling the way you lean over, sliding off your chair to join him on the floor. You kneel, hands resting on your knees, and you know he's getting an eyeful of your tits. You keep your eyes on his face.

"Show me," you murmur. "I won't touch you. I won't even touch myself. I just wanna see."

He stares at you like you've asked him for his social security number and all his credit card info. Which, honestly, he probably would have given up a little easier. And you're an awful person, because you know the effect you've had on him, especially these days, you know that Art will probably do anything you ask of him, just for the pleasure of pleasing you.

"Please?" you wheedle, cocking your head to one side lightly, staring up at him through your lashes.

And, really, how could he say no to that?

"I-- okay," he says, and he tries to pretend like he's relenting a lot more than he actually is. Pretends like he's doing you a huge favour, as if his cock isn't straining at the mere idea.

Art doesn't jerk off often. He's only ever used his hand once - the single time Patrick showed him. After that, he'd cried in the bathroom and washed his hands so many times he got a contact allergy. But he's figured out an alternative. One that doesn't involve him touching himself at all. So he slides off his sweats, all too aware of your steady eyes on him. You look at him like you've never seen legs before, as if you haven't seen him at a thousand practices. You look at him like you want to eat him.

He tries to tell himself that's not what's making his cock throb in his boxers. He keeps those on, more for his sake than yours.

"You can lie on my bed," you offer innocently.

Art almost moans. Because it's your bed. Because it's yours, and when he lies down it's almost like lying with you. When he buries his face in the pillow, he can smell you, your vanilla and roses body wash, and, beneath it, the gentle smell of you. It's your sheets he starts to cant into, hips rolling in a familiar motion as he starts to work away the desperate pressure in his cock. It's your pillow he bites in a futile attempt to muffle his moans. And when he looks up, eyes half-lidded, he can see you watching him. You're biting your lip, looking flustered, and it's the cutest he's ever seen you, and he moans your name without meaning you.

You keep your promise, hands folded neatly in you lap as you watch Art rut into your bed like a wild animal, like he's in fucking heat, like your sheets are a person and he's fucking it. Like your sheets are you, you realise, as his eyes meet yours and he whines your name. He's pretending he's fucking you. It's hard not to give up and shove one hand into your panties, but for his sake, you try. Art's moans are almost musical, and with a sharp slap of embarrassment, you're reminded of the sounds he makes when he hits the ball at practice. The same whining grunts of exertion, except now they're fuelled by pleasure, spurred on by the desperate grind of his hips into your sheets, not a fucking tennis ball.

"Oh, oh, fuck," Art's voice gets a little higher. "Oh, fuck, it's so good--"

You can feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you shift slightly. His movements grow a little more erratic, hands balling up into white-knuckled fists into the soft fabric of your sheets. You drink it all in while you can - his ears are red, his cheeks are pink. You follow the curve of his ass in his boxers. You stare at the muscles in his thighs. The bones of his hips.

Art gets breathy when he's about to cum. Breathy, very whiny, almost crying if you're being honest. You file that information away for later.

"Please, please, can I?" he gasps, staring up at you with pupils blown wide with lust. "Can I cum, please, fuck, need it, need it-- you-- fuck, please?"

It's surprising he can even string together a full sentence. "Of course, baby," you murmur, already resolved to not changing your sheets until after you've cum in them too.

Another nugget of information: Art favours a deep grind when he cums, like he's looking for a place to put it, to bury it, looking to breed, to mark, to keep. The sight of him pushing his hips as far into your mattress as he can before he cums, a cry of your name and a shuddering breath slipping from his lips, will probably fuel your nighttime ventures for the next few weeks. You'll use it when you find your next hook up, it'll probably send you right over the edge.

You don't know when you started thinking of Art while you fucked other guys. You just know that now, it's tricky to get off without it. It's hard enough biting your tongue so you avoid saying his name. Now, you'll have the image of his face when he cums locked in your brain forever.

"Shit," Art curses, still breathless, sitting up to examine the sticky mess soaking from the front of his gingham boxers, all the way into your sheets. "Sorry."

You just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. That was... really hot. That's actually how you get yourself off?"

He nods, embarrassed. When he shuffles off to shower, borrowing your shower caddy and a towel, you wait until your door click, and then you practically rip open your nightstand. It takes less than ten minutes with a vibrator and the memory of Art's voice moaning your name for you to add your cum to his. You imagine his hips fucking into you, not your sheets. You imagine pulling his stupid fucking purity ring off and wearing it like some fucked-up engagement ring. His hands are so big, you'd probably have to wear it on your thumb. His hands. You imagine them grabbing you, holding you, sliding up your skin. You wonder what it would be like to have him revere you, not his God. Worship you. You want him to, you think. The idea of him shattering every promise he's ever made, just to be inside you? It sends you over the edge with a muffled cry of his name.

It's that feeling, that messy need for him, that drives you to that frat party. You told him, obviously, and while he seemed sort of put-off when you mentioned you were probably going to sleep with someone, he told you it was okay. Told you to be safe.

You wish you could tell him, but you're worried it'll scare him off. Don't worry, Art, every guy I fuck, I pretend he's you. And now I'll have the knowledge of exactly what you look and sound like when you cum to help me out! Not exactly girlfriend material.

Still, you're thinking of Art when your eyes land on a boy playing beer pong. He's tall, all messy black curls and tanned skin. Handsome, too, if you're being honest, in a messy, frat boy-y kind of way. Hook up hot. You're thinking of Art when he waves you over, holding up a beer like it's a peace offering. You're thinking of Art when you give him your name and ask for his.

"Patrick," he tells you easily. "Patrick Zweig."

[tra1nchi]

Fucking the cute kindergarten teacher that your son so adores🫣

Him just trying to keep quiet as you fuck him into the backseat of his own car!!

🌷anon

Its crazy cuz i never went to kindergarten,,preschool supremacy MINORS DNI!! Top male reader,, dilf reader,,car sex,,forced to be quiet:((

Him being your sons cute little teacher,,He got on so well with his students!! He's so gentle and kind with them that they barely act out!!

Your son practically comes home a different boy,, giggling excitedly as he talks about his day in your lap,, talking with admiration about the best teacher in the world!! According to his six year old mind,,

You really needed to know who was trying to take your spot as a father,,you weren't petty or anything like that but,,he was your son after all,,no harm in being cautious!!

Arriving at the small school for the annual parents teacher meeting,,arriving in your work suit to try to see if you could intimate your sons teacher,, you felt immediate guilt when you walked in,,

"Hello! Please take a seat" His voice was joyfull as he motioned to the seat infront of his desk,,his appearance and clothing were soft like a warm hug,,his classroom decorated,,filled with things anything a child would enjoy!!

Speaking with him about your son through the first half but you couldn't help but notice how his eyes wandered,,a slight blush on his cheeks as he informed you,, you were the last parent he was meeting and maybe,,

"Have you had dinner? I can cook for you." His lips were curled into a gentle smile as he stands up,,taking his jacket as you follow behind him to his car,,trying to keep your focus away from his ass,,>□<

Your sons teacher glances around the parking lot before he grabs your tie,,pulling you in for a kiss as he drags you into his car,,giggling softly as he bkushed in embarrassment!!

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself" His hands reaching down to pull his jumper over his head,,his shirtless body on full display for you!! "Seeing you pick up your little boy everyday..I think I may have a crush on you.." he admits shyly glancing away!!

Something snapped in you when he said that,,shoving him down against his car seat as he squeals,, holding his legs up once you roughly pulled his jeans off,,shoving yourself inside of him with no preparation!!

Moaning like a slut in his car,,his head thrown back as you trusted into him,,you were so fast as the car practically bounced with your movements!! His eyes almsot rolling to the back of his head when he feels your hand covering his mouth!!

His whoreish moans being blocked by your palm,,feeling his spit wet your skin as his hips meet back with your cock!! His hand quickly and desperately jerking himself off with your pace,,tears welling up in his pretty eyes!!

Choked moans left his mouth as you encouraged him to be quiet,, lifting your hand away from his mouth to better grip his hips as you pounded into him,, his teeth bite his lips roughly,, not wanting to be caught in his own car!!

[harryspet]

Fic or Drabble whichever you wanna do.

Dark bsf Rafe taking advantage of vulnerable pregnant reader. Maybe her parents kicked her out? Or her baby daddy left her. Or whatever u see fit.

(Sorry if that sucks I just love ur work sm 🩷)

homestead | r. cameron [p.1]

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.6k

In which you reach rock bottom after JJ gets arrested and your first love returns to save the day.

main masterlist

A boy. 

You looked down at your eighteen-week ultrasound picture and smiled weekly. You and JJ were having a baby boy, and you’d found out completely by yourself. Pope had offered a million times to attend one of your appointments, practically begging a few times because he didn’t want you to go alone. You always rejected him, as the idea of going with someone else never felt right. 

The Heyward’s had already done so much for you by letting you live in their spare bedroom for, basically, your entire pregnancy. No matter how much Pope tried to tell you that they didn’t mind at all, you saw in their eyes that the last person they wanted their son to be friends with was JJ Maybank’s baby mama. You promised them you’d be able to save enough money to get your own place by the end of your pregnancy. 

So far, your day job at a retail clothing store and the late shift you worked as a waitress at The Wreck made you enough to keep you afloat. Pregnancy check-ups and ultrasounds were an expense you weren’t initially expecting and you hated that you were contemplating skipping the next few visits to save money. Besides that, appointments meant you couldn’t work and you needed all the hours you could get. 

The picture reminded you of how much hard work was left, but the feelings were bittersweet. You were so excited to meet your little boy, no matter how small he was at the moment. If JJ’s case would move a little bit faster through the system, he could be there for the big day too. Everyone in Kildare was biased against him, knowing his father too well, and you knew the system would be biased against him as well.  

You were grateful for Pope and for knowing someone else loved JJ as much as you did. JJ wasn’t hard to love, but he was a complicated person, and your relationship seemed to bring out the darkest parts of him. Pope saw his dark side, but …he wasn’t there the night he got arrested. 

You didn’t know someone could yell so loud or be so angry. The two of you were living with his Dad, and the first few months were relatively peaceful, mostly because Luke would usually go out at night, get wasted, and crash on some other part of the island. You and JJ usually played house, taking turns making dinner for each other and sleeping together side by side. 

A week before you realized you were pregnant, Luke came around asking JJ for money that JJ “owed” him, and of course, JJ refused him. You knew he’d been saving for months to take you off the island for your birthday, and he wasn’t giving that up. The fight escalated, with both sides verbally tearing each other down. As soon as Luke mentioned JJ’s mother, there was no stopping JJ. 

The fight had already moved from the bedroom to the kitchen to the porch, and then the men wrestled in the yard. JJ would’ve killed Luke if the police hadn’t come. When he got taken away in cuffs, he was a bloody, swollen mess that you didn’t even recognize. 

It became even messier when Luke decided to press charges against his own son even though they’d both been arrested. You then decided that Luke Maybank was heartless and wouldn’t ever see what you saw in his son. 

It was the weekend, your one day off, and you’d chosen to spend most of it walking to the nearby department store after your trip to the clinic. The Heyward’s wanted to spend the day out on the water but rides on the boat were starting to make you extremely sick. Besides that, you hated fishing and It was one of the hotter days of summer but you’d chosen a lightweight t-shirt dress. Well, dresses were starting to be the only thing that you fit correctly with your growing stomach. 

You tucked the picture you were holding into your purse as you made your way inside. For the past month, you’d been working up the courage to go down the baby aisles. Yet another thing that felt completely wrong doing without JJ. Cara had also offered to help buy you things but you told her every time that you were waiting until you were closer to your due date. You’d hold off from nesting until you were sure that JJ wasn’t getting out. 

Slowly, you looked over every item. Cribs, diapers, breast pumps, baby formula, bottle warmers, and bibs. It was all so overwhelming and you knew getting everything would be expensive but the price tag didn’t quite register to you until now. You had no idea how you were going to pay rent one day and afford all of the things your baby needed. 

You picked up the cutest crib mobile decorated with rocket ships, stars, and planets, and your heart skipped when you realized it was over a hundred dollars. You’d have to work an entire shift to earn that. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned towards the deep voice and the mobile tumbled from your hands, “Shit,” You cursed as you went down with it, hoping you hadn’t broken it because you couldn’t afford to buy it. Rafe Cameron pushed his cart to the side and hurried to help you, “I got it,” You said quickly as you turned away, handing it back on its display. 

Then you really looked at him. The boy you’d been so obsessed with in highschool was not a boy. His light brown hair was longer than you remembered but was tamed by a baseball cap. His white t-shirt and jeans didn’t match the version of him you had in your head, but, honestly, he looked better than you remembered. 

He smiled, rubbing the stubble on his face, as he seemed to take you in. If Rafe looked ten times better, you probably looked ten times worse than you used to. You felt huge although people just started taking note of your bump a couple weeks ago and your hair was messily gathered away from your face. Your dress was not name brand, in fact, you remembered buying it from the exact store you were standing in and you wore boots that used to belong to JJ now that your feet were starting to swell. 

“Hey,” He said.

You breathed out, “Hi.”

“Congratulations,” Rafe glanced at your belly and you wanted to crawl inside your own skin, “I guess?”

“Thanks,” You nodded, “It’s . . . complicated.”

The sad part about being pregnant, unmarried, with your child’s father sitting in jail was that people had no idea what to say to you. 

“How are you?” He asked after you went silent.

“I’m good,” You forced a smile, “How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve ran into you,” His smirk was the exact same as you remembered, “You shopping for the little one?”

“Browsing,” You said, “Didn’t quite realize how expensive all this stuff is.”

You looked at him for understanding before you remembered you were talking to – Kildare’s richest bad boy, “You still keep all your little friends around?”

“Yeah, we’re all a bit spread out now, though. I’m staying with the Heyward’s right now.”

You weren’t quite sure why you were exposing your life to him, but part of you wanted him to know that you were fine, that you had made the right decision choosing JJ over him, and that you were still figuring out life, but you’d be happy. 

“Oh, so it’s Pope’s baby?” The smug look on his face made you realize he was teasing you. 

“You know exactly whose baby it is, Rafe,” You shot back, your eyes rolling back.

You turned to walk away but he grabbed you by your arm, “Y/N, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’m sorry, Honey.”

You quickly pulled your arm away from him, folding your arms in front of your chest. You looked over his cart, seeing it was filled with miscellaneous things, but the only thing you could recognize was a massive back of dog food, “You got a dog?”

 “A few,” he said, placing his hands in his back pockets, “I use ‘em for animal herding. Wrangler, Sadie, and a few puppies.”

“Animal herding?”

“Yeah, I got this place on the mainland. I just came through to see Wheezie. I promised she could have one of the puppies before I sold the others.”

“You got a place on the mainland?” Your eyebrows raised, and you tried to keep your mouth from gaping, “Puppies?”

He nodded, laughing lightly, “Had to get my shit together after I got out of rehab and living with my Dad and Rose, it was just never good for me. Still working for him, but I’m just better on my own, you know?”

“I didn’t know you went to rehab,” You said quietly, still trying to process the information he was relaying. 

“A few times to be honest but I’ve been clean for a year,” He admitted while looking a bit closer at you, “Is there anything you need right now? I can help.”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that,” You shook your head quickly, “I’m fine.”

“You never like to accept help, do you?”

“I don’t need anything right now,” You assured him. 

“Hmm,” Rafe huffed, “Can I at least give you a ride, Y/N?”

“How do you know I don’t have one?” 

He gave you a knowing look that made you want to punch him. He was new and improved Rafe, but he was still an asshole, “Well, I also came to look for a new living room rug, and I could use a woman’s perspective. Help me, and I’ll give you a ride back to the Heyward’s.” 

“Whatever,” You shrugged before you began walking, “Fine.”

In his eyes, you could tell he thought he’d won. 

This was so wrong. So, so wrong. JJ would kill you. JJ would kill him. This wasn’t high school anymore, and you weren’t the insecure girl vying for the rich bad boy’s attention. Besides that, you’d always been an option for Rafe. JJ always chose you despite where you came from; now you might have a real chance of having a family. 

You blamed the way your body heated up when he spoke your name on your racing hormones and on the fact that you’d been separated from JJ for months. 

Rafe said he only came to main island to visit Wheezie, but as the weeks passed, you realized he’d found a new reason to visit. At least two times a week, he came in to the Wreck to order food and talk to you. Not only that, he practically texted you daily checking in on you. 

“Why the sudden change?” You asked him one night when closing time was closely approaching and you’d served all your tables, “I mean, I know you hated JJ but I didn’t think it would get in the way of, you know, us.”

“It’s my biggest regret after getting to know you again,” He admitted and the look in his eyes made your heart sink, “But I didn’t really know what I was doing when I was younger. I was so stupid, all I cared about was getting my Dad’s approval and I spiraled when that inevitably didn’t happen.” 

He had a way of making you question all of your own decisions. 

“Ward definitely wouldn’t approve of me now.”

“I told you I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Or what the entirety of Figure 8 will think?”

“Not at all,” He said.

“I care what my friends think.”

“You’re different than them now,” Rafe reached across the table to grab ahold of your hand as his blue eyes stared deeply into your eyes, “You have a great responsibility on your shoulders now. You have to do what’s best for you and the baby. That’s it, fuck what they think.”

“They do want the best for me,” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“They want JJ for you. And he’s sitting in jail right now.”

You pulled your hand away, looking out the onto the dock and dark water. 

“You don’t even know how you should be treated,” Rafe said mostly to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means–” He stopped himself, but his skin was flushed with red and you sensed he was calming himself down, “I just think you deserve better.”

“And you’re going to walk into my life after all these years and save me? I can do this by myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Rafe leaned in, “JJ’s going to get out but things aren’t going to get better.”

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s true, he’s a fuckup. He won’t get a good job and there’s a good chance he’ll go right back,” That tipped you over the edge and your chair scraped loudy on the ground as you stood up, ‘“I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry. I can drive you home.”

“Pope is coming to get me.”

You didn’t spare him a second look as you walked to the back of the kitchen. Until now, he’d refrained from putting all the weight of his judgement on you but you knew all a long he thought you were making a mistake. He’d been through a lot but he’d never struggled like you and JJ had. At the end of the day, he’d always had Ward’s money to fall back on. 

He just hated JJ and he was doing his best to get in between the two of you. 

Two weeks later, you were standing outside the Kildare County Jail, not because you were visiting JJ but because he was being released. Luke dropped the charges against him, and they released lower offenders due to overcrowding. You watched a few reunifications and waited on a cold bench in the lobby; blue hydrangeas in a small bouquet sat neatly in your lap. Your dress was also blue and printed with daisies. He had no idea the two of you were having a boy, and it was your sweet idea of telling him. 

You’d blocked Rafe’s number just that morning after ignoring his messages and calls. He was wrong. Even if he was calling to tell you that, you didn’t want to hear it. They never specified how long it would take to process him but you started to doze off after waiting for two hours. An officer in beige uniform tapped your shoulder lightly to wake you.

You were still hopeful and you expected to see JJ right behind him, “Hello, ma’am. Unfortunately JJ Maybank cannot be released today.”

“What?” Your eyes widened, “Uhm, why?”

“I was informed that additional charges have been filed against him.”

“What do you mean additional charges?” You asked, concern raising in your tone, “Who can I talk to?”

You when through every channel of communication possible, searching for answers. They couldn’t possibly expect you to leave like nothing happened. You found out from another officer, after heavy begging, that they filed another battery charge against him involving another inmate. Somehow, in the two days that he knew he was getting out he managed to catch another charge. 

“Could I at least visit him?” You’d asked and they told you he was in a segregated unit now and not allowed visits. 

You felt your heart physically break. When it fully started to sink in, you left to get fresh air. You walked for a long while until you started to panic. You sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and through teary eyes you tried to search for Pope’s number. What would you do now? Go back to the Heywards and continue to accept their charity? You were kidding yourself thinking you could do this alone. 

It felt like a rejection. You’d never had a real family. JJ knew that and yet he’d left you all alone again. 

You let your phone fall to the side, deciding you wanted to be miserable by yourself and you didn’t want to burden his family any longer. You threw the flowers into the street before your head fell in your hands and you finally let yourself cry for the first time since JJ had gone away. 

The bouquet you’d carefully put together lay discarded in the street and you had no care about the mud that was probably staining your dress now. Just as your chest started to tighten unbearably, you heard the low rumble of car engine and a shadow seemed to drape itself over you. You heard someone calling you, telling you to breathe, but your body wouldn’t obey the instructions. 

Your baby needs you to take a breath, you told yourself but the thought of your baby only made your guilt worsen, “I’ve got you,” You heard that familiar voice say. Being in his arms was far from familiar but your body didnt protest when it felt itself lifted in the air and placed on soft leather. 

The next time you looked up, you felt the car moving, and you saw the sun setting through the window. You felt a hand on your thigh rubbing soothing circles but you felt more paralyze than anything, “Try to take deep breaths,”  You heard him say but your body wasn’t yours to control, “Everything’s gonna be okay now. I’m going to take care of the two of you.” 

You were not in the squeaky twin bed at the Heyward’s house when your eyes peeled open the next morning and you realized that quickly. You saw wooden beams overhead and walls painted a soft cream color. You turned your head to see sunlight coming through lace-curtained windows. As fast as you could move with the extra weight, you pushed the comforter off of you and moved over to the window. It offered a view of rolling fields and distant trees, the greenery stretching as far as your eyes could see.

Looking back around the room, you saw a sturdy, antique bed with wooden nightstands on either side. A handmade quilt with vibrant patches of red and blue sat on top of the bed. Plush pillows piled at the head of the bed. On top of one nightstand was a well-worn book and a framed photo of younger Rafe with a blonde woman beside him. 

On the other nightstand was a vase of freshly picked wildflowers. You remembered your blue hydrangeas, and yesterday’s events came flooding back to you, “Fuck,” You cursed, and your eyes found the bedroom door. Before thinking about walking towards the door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the large mirror, sitting on top of a wooden dresser. You were dressed in a white silk pajama top and bottoms, a tiny sliver of your belly poked out the bottom of the shirt, but otherwise, they fit you perfectly. All you could do was curse, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You moved quickly towards the door, but it opened before you grabbed the handle. You covered your mouth as a shriek left your lips.

Despite your startled appearance, Rafe appeared calm. His hair looked like it had just woken him up, and he wore a simple T-shirt and gym shorts. He closed the door behind him, acting as another barrier to your escape, “What the fuck, Rafe?”

He shushed you, “You need to stay calm,” He warned you, “There’s no point in getting riled up.”

“I was having a panic attack and . . . and you–”

“You needed to get away,” He raised his hands as if to show he wouldn’t cause you harm, “I took you home with me.”

“You took me home with you?” You spoke back to him, “I have a home. Why didn’t you take me back to the Heyward’s?”

“That’s not your home, Honey, and you know that.” 

You shook your head, “You don’t get to decide that. Where’s my phone?”

“It’s wherever you left it,” Rafe shrugged, “You know, when you were having a panic attack on the side of the road. Alone and pregnant with absolutely no one looking out for you. Imagine if it wasn’t me who found you.” 

Rafe looked annoyed like it was you who was crazy in this scenario. You tried to ignore the thought of him undressing you and putting you in these new clothes. The idea of that became harder as you watched his eyes trail from your feet, higher and higher, “Jesus Christ, you don’t even know how precious you are,” He came closer until you were stumbling back onto the bed, “I want you to stay here with me.”

“And if I don’t want the same?” You looked up at him. 

“I’ll let you think it over. Give it some time,” He nodded to himself, “Are you hungry?”

You didn’t answer, only stared back, “I’ll make you something. I’ll be right back.”

He turned on his heel, and as you realized what he was doing, you hurried after him. He closed the door, and as you furiously turned the knob, you realized he’d locked it, “Rafe!” You screamed as you pounded on the door, “Rafe, please don’t do this!”

You felt your tough exterior melt away. This was serious. He was completely serious about keeping you here. 

You rushed over to the windows next, throwing open the curtains, and found that they didn’t budge even as you pushed at them. You kept yourself from another panic attack, knowing that Pope would be looking for you right now. You never told him about Rafe … you were so concerned about him judging you that you next rold him. But if someone found your phone, they would know … but you had no idea what really happened to it.

As you started to pace, you suddenly felt a fluttering sensation. You stopped as you felt a tiny kick inside of you, an unmistakable movement that echoed throughout your whole body. Gently, you caressed your stomach. “I hear you,” you said through heavy breaths as your eyes moved around the room. It’s okay. I’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

[fallin2pieces]

let's get in the back of your cop car, officer (charlie swan x coquette!reader)

heavily inspired by playing dangerous by lana del rey <33

cw: MDNI age gap (reader is a freshman in college and charlie is in his 40s), dubcon, p in v, dry humping, blowjob, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it..), cunnilingus, choking

authors note: this is my first ever fic! also sorry for the inconsistencies, english isn't my first language :( also lmao this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away 😭

- your parents were away for a business trip which left you home alone during break. you always had the nasty habit of smoking, and being home alone it was an opportunity to smoke inside your house.

- as you were cooking dinner, you were smoking in your kitchen, using your stove top to light a cigarette.

- you lazily dragged the cigarette across your lips, inhaling the smoke as you sat on your kitchen countertop.

- as the night progressed, you washed the dishes and got ready for bed

- little did you know, you've accidentally left the stove on.

- 4:38am. “fuck.” you woke up disheveled in your pink silky night gown, coughing as smoke covered your walls, filling your lungs.

- crying as you run down your stairs, you’ve realized what you’ve done.

- shakily, you reach for the family phone by your paisley printed couch and started to dial the police department as guilt engulfs you.

- “forks police department!” an older man on the other side of the phone responds. you knew it was wrong. you knew it was insensitive. maybe you were just a girl but something about the rasp and the timbre in the policeman’s voice made your insides turn.

- later on, you were sitting on your porch, the cold washington rain dampening the steps you sit on, your hair wet, lips and eyes puffy as you cry from guilt.

- a car pulls up in your driveway as a tall dark figure approaches you

- “ma'am you called, are you okay?” the same hoarse voice from the phone asks.

- you just start sobbing. you were guilty. you’ve already damaged your parents’ house.

- as the older man approaches you, he sits down at the porch with you to comfort you.

- as he sits down the smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume engulfs your senses.

- you look up at the police officer, he was even more attractive (and mature) than you imagined.

- this is wrong. you thought this isn’t the right situation to whore around.

- “i-i didn’t mean to do that officer..” you croak out, you started sobbing and he puts his arm around you

- “my name is chief swan. would you wanna sit in the car as i question you?” he asks.

- you nod rapidly as you got up and walked towards the backseat of the car. "this is the right opportunity" your mind lingered.

- “so what caused the fire?” his voice reverberating inside the empty police car as he closes the car door.

- you admit what you’ve done, stuttering and stuttering through tears.

- he just looks at you "oh poor you so alone and fragile." he thought after all you were just a girl and you didn’t mean any of this

- “officer is there anyway that you wouldn’t press charges?” you looked at him with hungry and intent eyes.

- you felt pretty bare right now. in your light pink nighties. the way he was taller, bigger and had more authority than you do… oh you felt so weak, like a bunny waiting for its predator to attack.

- as messed up as it sounds, this made you feel very warm and fuzzy, his presence made you warm and fuzzy. the way his mustache sits on his face and how his messy brown hair stands up, he looks a little sleep deprived and tired, probably from his police job. he’s just a little older than your parents. just perfect, you thought to yourself.

- you’ve never been attracted to a man his age but something about him being an authority figure made you insides turn in excitement, which made you yearn for more.

- “please officer..” you plead as you get on your knees, very intent to seduce the older man.

- he groans at the sight of you. “no no, sweetie we can’t-” he breathes out as he adjusts himself to try to hide the obvious tent in his pants.

- “officer i’ll be good i promise… just don’t press any charges on me…” you mumbled. it’s working you thought as your manicured hands fumble with his silver belt buckle

- “oh my sweet sweet girl.” he groans as he cups your sweet face as his thumb plays with your pink plush lips as he inserts his digits in your mouth making you moan around his fingers.

- “i shouldn’t be doing this.” charlie thought to himself

- you adjust yourself from kneeling, the roughness of the police car’s floormat bruising and ever so slightly scraping your delicate knees

- you use your teeth to unzip his pants as your eyes never leaved his, his hands cupping your face as he tucks your hair away.

- as you palm him through his boxers, wetness pools in your floral underwear.

- eager for some friction, you decided to use your fingers to press on your clothed cunt.

- as you fumble on his waistband, his cock still soft you whimper at the sight of his size.

- oh poor man.. you thought he was probably so pent up, no one probably took care of his sexual needs :(

- you start kissing on his cock sweetly as you look up at him..

- oh the way he stares down at you makes you feel inferior, you moan at the thought.

- slowly, you put his cock in your mouth.

- starting slow… going deeper and deeper you grow desperate for pleasure of your own

- he groans at the sight of you… so cockdrunk.. so needy for him.. it’s been years since someone wanted him this bad.

- “you’re such a good girl for me.” charlie manages to groan out, he holds you by your throat forcing you to look up

- picking up the pace, you moan and gag around his length sending him over the edge.

- he notices you yearn for attention down there :( so he signals you to stop and he instructs you to straddle him.

- with his cock out, you straddle him, kissing him hungrily as your clothed cunt pressed against his bare girth.

- as you took in his tongue, the taste of gas station coffee and cigarettes intertwined with your saliva.

- he eventually starts creeping his calloused hands to your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he rides your nightie up making you whimper and soften into his touch.

- as he finds his rough hands up and down your body, he fondles with your breasts, nipples erect from the cold washington breeze, the straps of your nightgown falling to the side as he takes your tits out to look at them.

- oh they were so perky and so soft. he made his way down with his mouth, lapping at your soft skin, eventually finding his tongue wrapped around your sensitive nipple.

- you throw your head back moaning at the pleasure he gave you, rocking back and forth slowly finding some friction as your baby pink painted nails dug crescents into his shoulder.

- he reaches down, to lift the skirt of your nightie, reaching down to your panty clad cunt, taking his thumb and firmly tracing circles on your clit.

- you elicit a moan and collapse into him, his big strong arms supporting you as you reach your high.

- suddenly you felt brave, you pull your panties to the side and you sink down to him.

- “n-no sweetie we can’t-” he whimpers out as you lower into him, as he throws his head back.

- “please officer let me be good.. let me be a good girl..” you cry out in desperation for some relief.

- you just sat there, letting your tight cunt adjust around his big cock your as he wraps his big strong arms around you.

- “baby.. your cunt is so tight.. fuck—” he pants out while looking at your beautiful face.

- you weren’t that experienced per se… only being a freshman in college, having one night stands with guys your age that you barely even know who treat you with only lust no love, but with chief swan, it felt intimate and romantic. the way he holds you and kisses you made you melt into his arms. it made you feel like you were cared for.

- slowly but surely you went up and down, savoring his length, you’ve never had someone this.. big and girthy (and mature).

- charlie being on the older side, didn’t have enough stamina, so you were using him like a dildo over bouncing up and down his cock as you looked at how his face was painted with pleasure.

- he looks at you with so much lust and love in his eyes, he haven’t had someone take care of him like this for years.

- he pressed his calloused thumb on your clit rubbing circles making you see stars.

- this was the most pleasure you’ve received from a man.

- “such a good girl for me, taking my cock like this, don’t worry i won’t give you charges princess, no one has to know. ” he looks at you firmly.

- you shake uncontrollably. poor girl can’t take all that cock inside of her :(

- you were making his pants all wet from your juices, all the mixed sensations of him nipping at your soft skin, his thumb pressed to your clit and his cock in you was enough to send you over the edge.

- “fuckfuckfuck-” you whimper out as you come undone on him, your cunt fluttering around his fat cock.

- “you’re doing so good for me.” he says as he carries your waist up as he thrusts inside you and spills his cum inside of you.

- he quickly pulls out, pushing you to lay down on the car seat.

- chief swan got on his knees, pulls you panties to the side and started lapping at your freshly fucked cunt, his mustache tickling your clit as his mouth worked on you.

- you squeezed your legs together, pinning his head steady between your legs as he overstimulated you, as you squirm and pull on his hair.

- he suddenly knelt up, slapping his cock on your clothed cunt, rubbing it up and down your slit.

- your eyes roll back so far back it felt like you could see the back of your skull.

- “officer please-” you moaned out, chest heaving. everything about him was intoxicating. you fucking in a police car only added to the thrill, the scent of sex and his cheap cologne filled your lungs.

- “please what? use your words sweetheart.” he said between groans, as he held your chin with one hand so you could make eye contact with him.

- his thrusts became more erratic and his hips stuttered.

- “please cum on my face officer..” you said embarrassed. you couldn’t believe this filth was coming out your mouth.

- he knelt up, rapidly stroking his length as his seed painted your delicate face.

- meeting chief swan was definitely an experience.

happy father’s day to all my dilfs out there