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brninghouse · 1 month ago

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Let me help you | Robert Reynolds

Pairing. Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Summary. A year after the events in New York City, the memories of that dreadful day come back to haunt you. Luckily, this time you have Bob with you and he will not let your pain drag you down, the same way you won’t let him blame himself for it.

Word Count. 3.8k

Tags/Warnings. Hurt to comfort, slight angst, SMUT, mention of Bob’s father and trauma, female receiving penetration, use of pet names such as honey, sweetheart and baby. Reader calls him Bobby during sex.

EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD, MUST BE 18+ TO READ, I WILL BE CHECKING. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Notes. My comeback to being a fic writer since I abandoned my writing blog back in 2023. Shoutout to Mr. Bob and his pathetically charming self for dragging me back to my writing ways. Also… I created and pushed the Inexperienced!Bob agenda in this fic. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcomed.

You could feel the darkness trying to consume you. It worked slowly, yet it felt as if it was rapidly trying to drown you, robbing the air straight out of your lungs and leaving you without any air left to breathe. It was an all-consuming feeling of dread — except this wasn't a feeling, it was a person. He had a face and a name. The exact same face of the man you would eventually come to fall in love with, but it wasn't him, not really.

It was the silhouette of the darkest parts of him. The dark side of him that wanted you to feel the exact same type of pain he was feeling. All of the abuse and suffering. He wanted you to feel it, too. He wanted every living person to feel it.

He was nothing more than a void — and he wanted you to drown in it. He wanted you to understand that there was nothing more in this world than the neverending feeling of numbness and agony.

His darkness was consuming you and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Honey, you have to wake up,” a worried sleepy voice urged you while a warm hand wiped the sweat off your forehead, carefully brushing and putting away the strands of hair that were stuck to it.

You opened your eyes so fast it felt like your heart was about to give out. Your breathing came out in quick, unsteady gasps that made it hard to figure out where you were. Your heart was beating just as hard as last year, back when the man next to you wasn’t the one he is right now.

“Bob?” you asked, trying to catch your breath and reaching out to him with a shaky hand.

“Hey, it was just a nightmare. Can you, uh.. can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked, sitting up in your shared bed and turning on the bedside lamp next to him before taking your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You didn't reply, all you could do was close your eyes and sit up next to him, bringing your free hand to your racing heart.

Your lack of an answer didn’t help soothe the worry he was feeling. “C’mon, sweetheart. Please,” Bob begged you, squeezing your hand two times.

I’m here. He’s gone.

You nodded once and opened your eyes, turning your head to the right and meeting the soft blue eyes of your boyfriend who was sitting next to you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice raspy and strained. He shook his head. “It’s okay. We can do it together,” he answered with a small smile.

Bob took a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, and then exhaled. You copied his movements, keeping your hand in his. “Again,” he said before taking another deep inhale and then letting it out, never taking his eyes away from you.

You weren’t able to count the number of times you breathed in and out with Bob, but he stayed with you through it all. Holding your hand until you were finally able to breathe normally.

You stayed silent for a while, but Bob didn’t seem to mind. All of his focus was on you, and he would wait for you for eternity if that was the time you needed to get a word out. “I’m sorry,” you croaked.

“None of that, honey,” he answered, not missing a beat. “Does it hurt to speak?” He thought of things he could do to help, rummaging through his head for any useful advice when his eyes lit up as he remembered something from his childhood.

“Do you want me to get you a glass of water?” He asked, his eyes shining as if he had finally gotten the right answer to an unsolvable paradox.

“Please,” you whispered. Bob took hold of the covers that were discarded away to the bottom of the bed and brought them up to your chest, standing up with a small groan as his feet met the cold floor and he stretched his arms above his head, giving you a clear view of his toned shirtless figure.

“I’ll be right back,” he replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to your bedroom door and walking out.

Bob didn’t take long walking to the kitchen and grabbing you a cold glass of water, yet every second he spent outside of your shared room made you remember your awful nightmare, which you wouldn’t even describe as a nightmare — it was a terrible fucking memory.

You anxiously chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at your door, impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to come back. The door eventually opened after a few minutes and Bob walked in with a glass of water in his right hand, you took notice of the metallic straw inside of it.

“It’s, uh… so it’s easier for you to drink,” he explained.

“That’s nice, thank you,” you replied before taking the glass from him and taking a small sip. The coldness that seeped through your body and the feeling of the condensation on the glass helping you ground yourself back to reality.

“Better?” He asked, climbing back onto the bed and placing a hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You hummed and leaned your body closer to him, leaning your head against his toned shoulder.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“You really need to stop apologizing, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he replied, turning his head to the left and kissing your temple.

You stayed silent for a while, taking small sips of your water. Finding comfort in each other’s presence and the sound of his steady breathing next to you. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“It was—,” you started.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But my mom used to tell me that talking about these types of things could help make you feel better,” Bob rambled, moving his free hand as he spoke to try and make his statement seem casual.

Bob had once shared with you that his mother used to help him out whenever he’d wake up terrified from nightmares about his father. She would give him a glass of water — with a straw to make it easier to drink — and comfort him through it all. He mentioned those moments were what eased his mind whenever he had one of his Low Days.

You let out a soft sigh, setting the empty glass on the bedside table next to you. “It was about last year,” you said softly.

“Oh,” Bob whispered, his shoulder going tense beneath your head. You didn’t have to look up at him to know there was a look of worry in his eyes.

You placed your hand over his on your thigh. “It’s not your fault,” you tried to comfort him, only to be quickly cut off by him.

“But it was me who did that,” he stated, his head hanging low.

“You weren’t in control, Bob. God, you didn’t even remember what happened once we got you out,” you said, slightly turning your head to press a kiss against his shoulder blade, causing Bob to let out a shaky breath.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I.. he,” Bob corrected himself, “He hurt you. He hurt every civilian in the city,”

“It wasn’t you, baby. I mean, now you're considered a hero. A goddamned Avenger, for fuck’s sake.”

“A pretty useless one. All I do is clean up after everyone and be Walker’s gym buddy,” he said, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You also helped Alexei get that Red Bull sponsor for his ugly New Avengerz merch,” you replied, trying to lighten the mood.

That caused Bob to let out a genuine smile and it was enough to make you feel like you had single-handedly caused world peace. It felt like the sun had shone straight through your heart. An infinite sunbathe.

“You’re a good person, Bob,” you lifted your head from his shoulder, sitting up to meet his gaze and bringing a hand to caress his cheek. Bob closed his eyes at the feeling, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he felt your touch on his skin. “Once you learn how to control your powers — how to control him.. you’ll be the most powerful member of this team.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the one comforting you, honey” he replied, opening his eyes and turning his head to give the palm of your hand a kiss, his eyes not leaving yours as he did it.

“Knowing you’re next to me is enough to make me feel better.”

A bright blush took over Bob’s cheeks. He wasn’t fully used to all of this, to the way you seemed to love him despite his darkest moments. Two months into your relationship he had shyly confessed to you that he had no romantic experiences due to his addiction and Low Days. That didn’t change the fact that he was eager to learn and make you feel just as loved as you made him feel.

He was about to open his mouth to say something along the lines of you being too sweet for a messed up man like him when he was distracted by the yawn that escaped you. A soft smile adorned Bob’s features.

“Oh, honey. You must be tired,” he said in the softest voice he could muster. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Is it that obvious?” You joked, another yawn leaving your lips, causing Bob’s smile to get even bigger. “Nope, not at all, sweetheart.”

Bob extended his arm to turn off your bedside lamp with a small sigh and moved to lay down facing you, you followed his movements, laying on your side and pressing your back to his strong chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and gently pressed a kiss to the back of your head.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of his beating heart against your back to lull you to sleep. It didn’t take long for you to notice that your attempt to slip back into dreamland was futile. You had no idea how long you spent trying to go back to sleep, it could’ve easily been fifteen minutes or an hour, but that didn’t matter. You just couldn’t.

You were so fucking exhausted, your body knew that but your brain wasn’t cooperating. You couldn’t fall back asleep. You tried to switch positions and move around, but it was useless. Nothing was working. Maybe your nightmare shook you up more than you thought.

“You okay over there?” You heard Bob’s tired voice behind you.

“Yeah… No. I don’t know why I can’t fall back asleep,” you answered, frustration lacing your tone.

Bob’s right arm that was gently wrapped around your waist moved down as his warm hand traveled beneath the sleeping shirt you were wearing — his sleeping shirt to be exact. His hand rubbed slow circles on your skin.

He used his free hand to move away the hair that was covering your neck and began to trail sweet kisses up your throat, moving slowly until he reached your jaw. “Is this alright?” He asked. You hummed and closed your eyes as he continued scattering soft wet kisses against your jawline until reaching your earlobe, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Let me help you, honey,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath and wandering hand under your shirt causing a heat to build up in your core. A whimper escaped your lips as your hips involuntarily pressed back against his. The feeling of his hardening member against your ass and his toned, strong chest right behind your back making you feel dizzy.

“Bobby,” you gasped, slightly turning your head to meet his eyes. “Tell me what you need,” he replied, licking his lips and pulling his hand away from under your shirt to use it to lift himself up and hover above you. You weren’t able to get any words out so you did what your body was begging you to do.

You pressed your lips against his and kissed him. Bob eagerly kissed you back, using his free hand to hold your face and lift it up towards him, a small moan leaving his lips. You two had been in this position several times, yet it always felt like the first time for him, because due to his inexperience: every feeling was new to him. Moans and whimpers would always escape him whenever he found himself making out with you.

His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pressing himself closer to you. The kiss was heated but still soft — still so Bob. He pulled away to take a breather before saying, “Wait, I, uh.. I think I know of something that could help.”

He shifted his position to lay on his back, spreading his legs and manhandling your body, moving you to sit between his thighs. “Is this.. Is this alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you answered, letting out a sigh of comfort as you laid your head on his chest, your back pressed against his shirtless figure, his head above yours and his legs keeping you in place, spread next to yours.

“You tell me if you want me to stop.. or if it’s too much,” he rambled “Oh! And also if I do something wrong—“

“It’s fine, Bobby,” you replied with a small smile. “You’re pretty good at what you do, don’t worry too much about it.”

Your statement brought a bright blush to his cheeks, the second of the night — which wasn’t strange because he always got shy whenever you praised him during your intimate moments. He still wasn’t used to being praised, especially not on times like this.

He lets out a nervous laugh as he uses his left arm to hold your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and his right hand smoothes over your covered abdomen, the tips of his warm fingers making you shiver and internally beg for more.

“Can I.. Is it okay if I take this off?” he asks, slightly pulling your shirt up, your eyes close as you feel his lips against your ear.

“Please,” you exhale. Bob slowly pulls your shirt over your figure, causing the cold air of your shared room to hit the soft skin of your bare chest, making your nipples harden. Leaving you almost completely naked, the only thing covering your body being your panties that were getting wetter by the second.

“Jesus,” Bob whispers, bringing his hand up to softly trace the outline of your right breast. Taking his time as he trails the tips of his fingers through its underside, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He slowly brings his fingers up to play with your hardened nipple, pinching it slightly before using his whole hand to grope your breast.

“Stop teasing.”

“I wasn’t trying to tease,” he replies. You didn’t have to see his face to know there was a huge smile adorning it. “I’m just admiring my beautiful girlfriend.”

You try to move closer to him, wanting to feel something — anything that could help ease the burning in between your legs. You dropped your hand over his left arm that held your waist in place and pushed your hips back against his, a moan escaping you as you grind your ass against his hard cock.

Bob’s self-esteem boosted at the sweet sound you let out, giving your breast a last squeeze before trailing his fingers downwards to where you wanted it the most.

“Please, Bobby,” you pathetically whimpered, your hips involuntarily jutting upwards towards his hand as your body begged for more of his touch.

“Shh, I know, honey,” he hushed your pleas. He trailed his fingers through the plush of your thighs before letting them linger along the hem of your drenched panties. He slowly brings his hand down to cup your covered pussy over the fabric of your underwear, causing another moan to escape you.

You threw your head back against him, your breathing coming out in unsteady pants. You could feel and hear his heavy breathing, too. Feel him getting worked up over the sight of your begging body. He slowly pressed his fingertips down to touch you through the drenched fabric of your underwear, the pressure of his fingers against your covered folds feeling just right.

“God, look at that,” Bob panted. Quickly taking his hand off of your needy core to stare at his fingers, watching them glisten with your slick wetness. “Can’t believe all of this is because of me, sweetheart.” You whimpered at the loss of his hot touch, your hips bucking towards him in a desperate way of trying to get closer.

“Only for you, Bob. Fuck.”

Bob’s chest swelled with pride at your reaction. “Lift your hips, honey,” he ordered, his breath fanning against your cheek as you swiftly lifted your hips and watched him slowly bring your underwear down, finally letting you completely spread your legs as your naked pussy met the cold air of the room.

Bob’s entire world stopped spinning the second he saw your bare body laying against him. He could see your wet pussy glisten with arousal due to the dim light that entered your room through the small crack underneath the door. He had seen you naked a bunch of times already, but it still felt new to him to see a woman’s body be this needy for his touch. It still surprised him that he could be the cause of the wetness that dripped on your bedsheets. He was nothing more than a recovered addict with a shit ton of mental issues and yet… he could cause this. He could somehow make you trust and love him completely.

“Touch me, Bobby,” you begged.

Your boyfriend happily obliged, swiping his long middle finger in between your folds and spreading your wetness through your pleading pussy. “Bob,” you warned.

He let out a shaky laugh, “Sorry, I got you.”

He slowly eased his middle finger in you, feeling the way your walls clenched against it, begging for more. Both of you moaned at the sensation. “You’re so warm, honey,” he moaned.

“More, please.”

Bob used his thumb to press your clit and give it slow circles, feeling the way it pulsated under his finger. Making his blood flow straight to his hard member. You mewled at the feeling of his middle finger pumping in and out of you as his thumb worked on your clit. Your wetness covering his hand.

He took his time pumping into you in an easy rhythm, waiting for your begging body to be ready for him to add a second one. Remembering everything you taught him about pleasing your body. Bob’s free hand came up to grope your tits as he began to drop wet kisses on your neck, sucking on your skin, forgetting that you’d wake up in a few hours to a purple bruise sitting there.

“So good, Bobby,” you whimpered, closing your eyes and letting the pleasure he was causing you take all over your body. His strong hand groping your breasts and his other one working on your pussy making you feel drunk on him. The length of his finger pumping against your soft walls made your body melt against him.

Bob slowly entered his thick ring finger inside your wet heat, causing a moan of his name to escape you. He began to push it in and out, matching the rhythm he had created with his middle finger. Your body shook against him. He added more pressure to his thumb on your clit, circling it faster as he felt your breathing hitch and saw a blissful expression take over your face.

“Just like that, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for me, you always do,” he praised.

Your body kept shaking and your breathing came out in short gasps. “Relax, honey. Breathe,” Bob reminded you, but it was useless. You could feel him all over your body. Only him. Not The Void. Not your suffering. Only Bob and the love he felt for you.

You could smell your arousal and hear the lewd sounds of his fingers moving in and out your pussy, it all felt too much and too right. The fire you felt in your belly got bigger, causing your hips to buck against Bob’s fingers, wanting more. “I think I’m gonna—” you exhaled.

“I know. I got you,” Bob whispered in your ear. Bob put more pressure on your clit the moment he felt your walls clench and shake against his fingers. You closed your eyes and let the pleasure you were feeling wash all over you.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” you whined. A hot feeling taking all over you as Bob continued to ease his fingers in you, helping you ride your orgasm. Seconds later, you come all over his fingers, your wet and hot fluids soaking his hand and spilling over your sheets. It was all so hot, Bob couldn’t help but moan at the sight.

Your body shuddered and your legs shook as you kept your eyes closed and came down from your high. Trying to catch your breath and focus on the whispered praises you were getting from Bob that seemed light-years away.

“Are you with me?” Bob asked. You hummed and buried your head on his chest, making him chuckle. Bob slowly pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the overstimulation you were feeling. “I’m sorry, honey,” he apologized before raising his soaked fingers to his lips and groaning as he tasted your hot juices.

You could feel a wave of exhaustion lulling you to sleep. “It’s okay if you fall asleep, I’ll just run to the bathroom real quick for a towel to clean you up. I’ll be right back,” he spoke softly, remembering how you taught him about the importance of aftercare.

Just as he was about to leave for the bathroom you said, “Hey, Bob?” stopping him on his tracks.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you. I’m thankful that Valentina almost killing me brought us together,” you replied in your sleepy state.

“I love you, too. You have no idea,” and you really didn’t. Because he would never let the darkness consume you. He wasn’t going to let you drown in it, the same way you wouldn’t let him drown either.

Bob admired your naked body for a bit more before walking to the bathroom for a towel. He wondered if life had always been this beautiful.

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marvelstoriesepic · 1 month ago

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Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

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agentark · 3 months ago

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(tags from @kdelarenta @agentnatesewell @wayhavenots @itsmistyeyedbi)

can you imagine being Rebecca on the routes where the detective realizes Ostin is acting weird *and* brings it up to UB

I would've crucified them before my child had even left the room

#these were killing me #get 'em!!!#A is taking a million points of psychic damage right now #sorry for memorializing your typo nat i didn't even notice it until you said something lmao #i hope this haunts ub for LIFE

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ringtaileds · 1 year ago

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Mother, oh mother how I miss you.

The discipline you taught your dear daughter still resides. It keeps her safe and well behaved.

The caution you bestowed in her thoughts and actions has prevented quite a lot of a trouble.

Mom? Where are you? Mom? I need you.

Your daughter carries your sadness with her, did you know? She cherishes it.

All that loyalty you had shown a man who didn't deserve it has instead manifested into one girl. She promises to keep you with her to the end, like you promised her.

Ma, I hope you're happy, I love you.

Your siblings see your daughter as a sister with how alike you two are. They called you her sister by accident so much it's funny! She lightens rooms, she fills them with joy the way you used to.

I don't remember much as a child, but what I do was always with you.

Do you remember the whales mom? The water? Can you still smell the chlorine and squint at the thought of the lights?

Everyone says my mommy has a wonderful voice, I know it's true too.

Unfortunately your daughter was shot down before she could be a songbird.

Instead she uses the blood that blooms from her chest to draw.

Yet... Slowly she's finding a tune now.

Maybe one day sudden noises won't silence her anymore.

#my idiocy #written memories #this is oldish but technically most recent #its both tbh #ive only known 1 type of love everything else was fleeting or silly wasnt it #im sorry mom im sorry i hope this guilt stops haunting me for your special day next month

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witchhaunts · 1 year ago

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Tag drop ft. general

i. ( ooc ) : backstreet's back alright

i. ( psa ) : memory is another name for ghosts &. their awful hunger

i. ( crack ) : fey's guide to troubled bird

i. ( meme ) : death : brilliant ; clever ; cruel

i. ( open ) : something tender anyway ; but tender like a bruise

i. ( ask ) : things the birds tell me

i. ( wish ) : burning like a sun in your mortal heart

i. ( edit ) : what happens to anything beautiful

i. ( give ) : death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit

i. ( promo ) : if the moon smiled she would resemble you

i. ( interaction call ) : forgive a girl for being lonely

i. ( saved ) : hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul

i. ( sp ) : we create ghosts ; we haunt ourselves

i. ( q ) : &. i am out with the lanterns looking for myself

i. ( dash comm ) : it is night inside you so crawl towards the light

#i. ( ooc ) : backstreet's back alright #i. ( psa ) : memory is another name for ghosts &. their awful hunger #i. ( crack ) : fey's guide to troubled bird #i. ( meme ) : death : brilliant ; clever ; cruel #i. ( open ) : something tender anyway ; but tender like a bruise #i. ( ask ) : things the birds tell me #i. ( wish ) : burning like a sun in your mortal heart #i. ( edit ) : what happens to anything beautiful #i. ( give ) : death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit #i. ( promo ) : if the moon smiled she would resemble you #i. ( interaction call ) : forgive a girl for being lonely #i. ( saved ) : hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul #i. ( sp ) : we create ghosts ; we haunt ourselves #i. ( q ) : &. i am out with the lanterns looking for myself #i. ( dash comm ) : it is night inside you so crawl towards the light

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falesten-iw · 7 months ago

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Nothing can truly show you the reality of what's happening in Gaza, not a picture, not a video, and not even words. The truth is far worse than anything an image can capture. Families are not just enduring genocide, they’re being erased. Their history, their homes, their existence, wiped away like they were never there.

What’s left behind? Bits and pieces. Fragments. A scrap of fabric here, a shattered memory there. People are still trapped beneath the rubble. Some are alive, their voices weak but desperate, pleading for help that will never come. There’s no rescue equipment. No teams to save them. And anyone brave enough to try is met with drones, striking down anyone who gets close.

Those who’ve managed to survive aren’t just hungry, they’re freezing. Imagine huddling in a makeshift tent, shaking not just from fear but from the biting cold that seeps into your bones. The wind tears through everything, ripping apart whatever tiny bit of warmth you’ve managed to cling to. Inside the tent, there’s no comfort. Only the sound of bodies rustling as they try to stay warm, muffled cries of grief, and the haunting sound of people buried beneath the rubble, their faint cries for help echoing in the dark.

The cold doesn’t care. It doesn’t spare anyone—not children, not parents, not the elderly. It sinks into everyone, leaving them numb, both physically and emotionally. Hunger takes what little strength they have left, and the cold takes their hope. This isn’t some tragic story from the past—it’s happening right now. These are my people. This is my family.

A single line can hold the weight of an entire story, and a single choice can save a life. What if you skipped that extra coffee, brush pack, or subscription and put that money toward rescuing lives in Gaza ? One small sacrifice from you could provide food, warmth, or even survival to my family who’ve lost everything.

You might wonder, “Does it really matter? Can I make a difference?” The answer is yes. Every dollar you give is a line of hope, a stand against the darkness. Don’t let this story fade. Don’t let Gaza disappear into silence.

Please help us and donate now if you can, and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Donate on GoFundMe: Link

Donate on Paypal: Link

Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 250 SEK is equivalent to 25 dollars, and 506 SEK equals 50 dollars and so on. Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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mohammedziara · 8 months ago

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Help Us Survive This Winter: A Father’s Plea ❤️‍🩹

My name is Mohammed, and I never imagined that one day I would have to write these words, asking for help to simply keep my family alive. I used to work as a painter and decorator, taking pride in providing for my family and raising my two boys, Arafa and Mohammed, with love and security. But everything changed overnight.

Our home, the place where we built memories, was destroyed in a bombing. The car I depended on to make a living was reduced to ashes. We were left with nothing. Now, my family—my wife, my parents, my brother Ahmed, and my boys—are crammed into a school near the Port of Gaza, a shelter that is no longer a place of learning, but a refuge for the displaced.

The constant sound of gunfire and bombs haunt us day and night. Each explosion shakes the ground beneath us and tears at our spirits. My children, Arafa and Mohammed, once so full of life, now cower in fear. They have nightmares and cry in their sleep. The trauma they are enduring has stolen their childhood. My heart breaks every time I see the fear in their eyes, knowing that I can’t make it go away.

We are living in survival mode. There is no money for food. No fuel to stay warm as winter creeps closer. No medicine to treat the constant sicknesses that come with our living conditions. And no warm clothing to protect my children from the freezing nights that are just around the corner. I watch them shiver, hungry and cold, and I feel utterly powerless as a father.

We’ve lost everything, and I have no means to provide for my family. We’ve reached a point where we cannot survive without help. I never thought I’d be in this position—having to rely on the generosity of strangers to keep my family alive. But I am here, pleading with you, because the alternative is unthinkable.

Please, if you can spare anything at all, it could mean the difference between life and death for us. Your donation, no matter how small, can help us buy food so my children won’t go to bed hungry. It can help us find fuel to keep warm in the brutal winter months ahead. It can provide medicine for my boys and warm clothing to protect them from the cold.

I know the world is full of need right now, but I hope you can find it in your heart to help my family. We are just one of many who have lost everything, but to us, your kindness could change our world. It could give my children a chance to feel safe again, to heal from the trauma they are carrying, and to survive the months ahead.

Thank you for reading, for caring, and for anything you can do to help. Your generosity will not only provide us with the necessities we need to survive but also restore a bit of hope in a time when it feels like all hope has been lost.

With all my heart, thank you.

#free gaza

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dawnwriterimagines · 11 months ago

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The Verdict Due

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1)

Innocents Among You (Part 2)

The Guilty Plea (Part 3)

Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: You head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

Simon's steps are slow, lacking energy or purpose. Releasing the buckles strapping his vest down to him, he finally arrives to his door, lifting the camo from himself.

His forehead pressing into the wooden door, he finds it harder and harder to open everyday, seeing reminders of you every moment of everyday, when he closes his eyes, when he lays down in bed. Hell when he opens the door. He hated this room now.

Outside of the place that you both had made your home away from war, from battle, from the base, this was where the two of you had once spent most of your time.

He raised his head off the door, before bringing it back down on it, then doing it again, this time hard enough to hurt. "Fuck," he cursed, cursing himself, his stupid decisions, the times he'd never get back, the mistakes he'll never be able to erase. Huffing out bitterly, squeezing his eyes shut, he's still for a moment, before banging his fist against the wall. "Fuck!" There's a crackle along the wall, a clatter of dust and dried paint hitting his feet.

A shuddered breath leaves him, swallowing down his grief, his anger at himself. But, he can't help it. He's ruined everything.

Simon's head stays there against the doorway, he doesn't want to go in.

His head turns a bit, seeing a figure down the hallway, straightening up, dark eyes squinting. "Johnny?"

Quiet and Still. The Scotsman's mouth is set in a hard line, he runs a hand down his face, smearing the mess he'd made of himself. "I..." he breathes deeply. "I saw her today."

"You what?" Simon perks up, eyes wide. He looks past his comrade, seeing the open doorway of your room, "She's here," he speaks, voice alight and hopeful. Making his way past Johnny, "She's here?" he asks this time, bracing himself at her doorway.

But, the room is a mess and void of you. He'd nearly forgotten how the soldiers had left it, the day it happened he could watch it, it would've been too finalizing of what he thought was your betrayal. Today was meant to be the day they'd clean it all up, due to plaguing themselves with missions and ops that required long weeks, long hours. No one wanted to think about what they'd done.

But, now they'd only made another mistake in waiting too long. And now you had to be greeted by this mess.

"I didn't know it was--" Johnny couldn't turn back to the room, back to Simon, as he spoke. "I didn't know we did so much to her. I thought--how long--how could I--" he shakily began. "--how could you?" Simon's eyes flicker to his friend, dark circles and sunken cheeks seem to worsen. "She was so...she couldn't even look at me, Si. Like I'd make her sick, like I'd--hurt her again...I've never--" his fingers claw at his chest, hoping to rip away the ache in his heart, eyes haunted to tears and staring into the dark of his memory as he thought back. "I'd never--" he can't finish.

"She was here?" Simon asked again.

Johnny's clouded eyes look to Simon, opening his mouth before opting for nodding. Clearing his throat, finally seeming to get a handle on himself, "Just left."

"She what?" Simon bolts out towards the stairs, pushing through the doorway and jumping down the first flight to rush through the rest.

As he gets to the lobby floor, he shoves through the door, revealing the hallway to him, running down the long stretch before ramming into the side wall to catch himself at the corner. He continues down the way, running as fast as he's able, before bursting through the side doors of the front lobby.

He sees you immediately, beyond the glass doorways.

"(Y/n)..."

He's running before he can think to get his legs moving.

---

Leaving the dormitories, finally leaving behind the spare hospital wear that you had swapped for your own clothes, you waved down the first vehicle you'd seen.

The driver letting you into the truck, the two of you unaware as he begins to drive off, Simon shoving his way through the residential doors and coming to a stop in the middle of the street as you drive away.

You, having hopped a ride with one of the soldiers making his rounds, the Jeep shakes with the changing terrain, providing more conversation than the trooper that was much too quiet. Shifting his shoulders, adjusting his fingers around the leather, glancing one too many times through the mirror.

It was getting weird. But, you were a familiar face on the base, unfortunately now, it used to be because you were good at your job, the best sniper they had on the force. But now, it was because you were the first proclaimed traitor of the force in decades and the first to be wrong about.

So, the new attention is nothing to be pleased about.

"Find something interesting to look at, soldier?"

Back straightening, body stiffening and eyes facing the road, the trooper swallows thickly at having been caught eyeing you. "No, ma'am!"

"Then I suggest you keep your eyes on the road."

"Yes, ma'am!" clearing his throat. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't mean to stare."

Arms crossed, head turned to watch the smaller buildings go by, your jaw clenched. "It's fine..." you breathe, before relaxing a bit more as the drive goes farther and farther away from the residential areas. Eyes flickering over to the still tense trooper, you mutter. "Ease."

His shoulders drop, head turning, flustered. "Sorry, ma'am."

It was always strange to be called 'Ma'am' by fellow soldiers, usually you were only a year or so apart, others you had been younger by ten years or older by five. But, this trooper was new to the force, young, clearly still jumpy, you had been the same after your first missions on the Task Force.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the trooper then speaks, shakily.

"You don't have to keep--"

"About what happened to you," he continued. "I'm not sure if you heard that yet, but it's--that sounds--I can't imagine. I'm sorry that happened to you."

For a moment too long you're quiet, holding your breath, staring at the scenery as it whistled on past, the wind whipping through your hair. Your nails tearing into your skin as you rake them over your scars, smearing the line of blood left after ripping out your IV line, abandoning it as you found a ride.

"Get any cool scars out of it, at least?" he jokes, lightheartedly.

Your eyes snap his way, his eyes widening before he looks back to the road, back to stiff.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. You're just angry, too angry to find the words. But, you don't want to take it out on him, he was just attempting to alleviate whatever burden he imagined to be on your shoulders. But, all it was was a reminder, this was all anyone could think of anymore, when it came to you, this ordeal.

The apologies, the reminders, the quiet looks, the whispers, the fucking gnawing pain still splintered through your spine, you were tired of it.

The car pulls up to the largest administrative building on the base camp, hopefully you were right and this was where Laswell was posted up.

Quickly pulling the car handle as the trooper steps out of the vehicle to assist you, you hurriedly speak as he reaches to touch you. "I've got it," you hiss out, harsher then you meant. Stepping down and off the platform, onto the sidewalk, you forget you don't have your IV pole to at least stabilize you. So, when you stumble, he grabs your arm, his other resting on your shoulder.

"Woah!" his grip lacks gentleness, though not bruising, it's enough to set you off.

Your arm goes back and over his arm, shrugging him off, roughly. "I said I got it!" Your palm pushing into his shoulder and sending him back and off of you, he shifts back and nearly off his feet, catching himself.

"Alright, jeez!"

You're stumbling back into the light pole luckily a few steps behind you, leaning yourself against the cemented metal, you balance yourself. Shaking off the buzz in your ears and rubbing away the tension built along your skin, taking a few shuttered breaths, turned away from the soldier.

The trooper takes a few steps away from you, expression lifted to frustration and annoyance, rolling his eyes, brows furrowed and back pedaling to the Jeep. "Fucking crazy," he mutters to himself, adjusting his gear and stepping up back to the vehicle.

But, he doesn't make it very far until you're on him.

"What the fu--!"

Taking the opening of his kevlar and yanking him out of the vehicle, unable to catch himself fast enough to get to his feet. You hold a steel grip on the collar of his uniform, literally holding him up by his straps, pulling his entire bodyweight off the ground, leaning down so you're face to face with him. "Say it again," you snapped, eyes dark and boring into his skull. "I wanna have a good excuse for what I'm about to do to you."

He was taller, probably stronger, but looking up at you, he could see the years of mayhem and chaos that's burned itself into your irises, made you the lieutenant he'd tripped up on properly respecting. "I didn't--I didn't say anything! I'm sorry, ma'am, it won't--it won't happen again!"

Nostrils flared, eyes flickering between his wide, fearful ones, your hands loosen around his gear. He falls forwards, landing on his forearms with a groan, releasing a relieved breath.

He looks up, watching as you turn and make your trek into the building. You had seemed so fragile before, with a limp in your walk, scars head to toe and those braces along your legs, he assumed you had no fight in you. He couldn't have imagined, five minutes, he'd be wrong.

---

"Laswell."

The Station Chief turns, manila folder files in hand, brows raised at the intrusion before her eyes widen at the sight of your tired figure.

"Gray..."

You don't wait to be invited inside, instead pulling up a chair as you let the door close behind you. Not fully out of a lack of respect but your legs were killing you and surely if you wait a second longer you'll literally tear a muscle. "You free?"

"Never. But, I can make time," she answers. "Is something wrong?"

You bite down on your tongue. What isn't wrong.

"I put in a request for council in resignation, ma'am. I'm just here to know if it went through."

"I did...receive your request," The woman is still quite surprised to see you, a bit off put at your presence, hearing about your scars was one thing, seeing them was another. "Of course. Though, I expected you to wait for my call before deciding to come to me."

"I'm sure," you feigned a slight chuckle that faded as soon as it started. You say nothing else but stare.

Laswell sighs, tossing down the folder she'd been holding. "Look, Lieutenant Gray--"

"Just (L/N)," you gritted out. "Please." You couldn't stand your codename at the moment, you didn't want to carry a single thing this team had given you.

"Lieutenant..." Laswell pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the long table, facing you, "You've accomplished much on the force, saved lives, eliminated threats that had the potential to level the united nations, your honors and distinctions. At the very least, here, your guidance is a treasure..."

"I'd like my resignation to be approved, Chief--"

Laswell continues. "I need you to careful think about what you're doing here, Gray--(L/n). I don't want you to be motivated by what's happened to you, you still have a place on the force, it doesn't have to be beside your team. Don't waste your talents in the field because of this experience."

"Experience," You scoffed at the word, nose cringing up in disgust at the downplay. "I didn't go on a rollercoaster at Disney World, god--I was tortured by my team for weeks while my fiancé threatened to kill me afterwards..." you were about to lose your mind. "What makes any of you think I'd want to stay here? Why can't any of you just respect my decision to leave? I'm resigning."

Laswell settles back into her chair, lips pressing together, she makes a hum of a sound. "I can arrange a transfer," she compromised. "But, my authorization goes through only after informing Price, he also needs to sign off on this."

Your jaw clenches, your fingers tightening around your clasped hands. "Then how about that favor you owe me?"

Station Chief straightens, brow lifting and arms crossed. "Excuse me, soldier?"

Sighing, reaching a hand into your bag, you bring out a folder of your own, some documents signed off. "I had to wonder who the evidence was sent to, given it was right after our mission and Price doesn't even look at his reports to sign off on something in under 24 hours, it wasn't him," watching as Laswell opened the folder, revealing her own name signing off on the interrogation, just a few of the photos that'd declared you guilty. "Thanks for ruining my career, Laswell."

She spreads out the evidence, her own signature on the papers, she breathes out. "And what are you trying to do here, Gray?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Trying to threaten me with what exactly--?"

"Nothing," you answered. "I'm asking for a favor, from someone I thought was my friend," you find it harder to say, Laswell's jaw clicks and she shifts in her chair. "You owe me that much."

"It's the job, (L/n). I was protecting our own, our resources were very promising."

"Until they weren't, huh?" you sarcastically gritted out.

"Yes..." Laswell sighs. "I do apologize, (L/n), but--"

"Just do this for me," you interrupted, pleading this time. "Please. I can't go to him, I can't even look at Simon, let alone Price. Forget about being in the same room with them. I just--I can't be here, this isn't where I belong anymore," looking down at your hands, the scars that circled your wrists. This was a final decision. "I'm resigning with or without you."

Rising from your seat, Laswell stands as you do, "You resign without clearance, they'll take everything from you. Your pension, your insurance, retirement, everything, you'll be dishonorably discharged, you understand that?"

"'Course, I do," you admit. "Honestly, I thought I'd be dead on a mission somewhere before I saw any of that, I don't expect anything out of this. Nothing's...worth any of this."

As you turn the handle to leave, Laswell speaks once more. "I just wanted to enlighten you on what I'm risking for you, signing off on this."

At that, you glance back to her, watching as the older woman sighs heavily, picking up a pen, opening up the manila folder she'd been holding onto previously. Opening it up to reveal your resignation papers.

"If I do this, when I call on you, Gray," Laswell says. "I expect you to be there."

As she wrote her signature down on the dotted line, you swallowed down the ache that's plagued you for weeks, "I swear."

As the station chief continues down the packet, turning to the next page and signing once again, you slowly slide back into your chair, sitting silently as you watch her sign off on your leave from military service.

You bring your hand up fast as a tear runs down your face, wiping it away before Laswell can see, sniffing quietly.

---

Walking slowly down the side hallway of the admin building, you stare out into space, your eyes glistening as you hold the signed resignation packet to your chest, pressing it to yourself tightly.

Passing the front desk, the security posted up at the elevators, you enter the main hall and come to a stop. Your grip on your documents tightening as you watch rain pour out onto the outer glass of the windows.

Watching the downpour outside, you can't seem to get your feet moving to just leave this place. That's all you need to do, just...walk right through it, into a car, past the gates, onto the highway. Just...go home.

As you flinch at the pitter patter of the rain hitting the building, a short burst of thunder, you try to inch your way closer to the doors but the closer you get, the more you can remember. The more you can feel.

The rain gets louder, and louder. It's cold, although you recall it being 90 degrees and in the middle of the desert. It must just be you.

Putting your folder away and into your bag, the automatic doors open for you, but it's too hard to step through. Staring out into the open landscape, the dividing border of the desert land and the gates surrounding the base. The dry ground now turning muddy, trucks driving by and the mud swelling up at the change in pressure, soldiers rushing through the rain, kicking up mud, flicking up umbrellas.

Breathing deeply, you scuff your shoes forwards, feeling the first drop hit your skin, it's warm, but it's no comfort. Gasping at the feeling, you stumble back into the building, the automatic doors closing.

Short gasps of breath quietly leave you, your nails burrow into the skin of your forearm, you stare at the rain as it pelts at the ground, flooding pot holes and falling into storm drains.

The automatic door opens again, you back up, shifting to the side, as an officer gives you a strange look as he walks past and into the rain.

Your hesitance to proceed into the rain was noticed by a few in the main lobby. Like Kyle, who still stood in his mission uniform, dropping off his reports to the main desk, getting off the elevator to see you staring up at the cloudy sky.

His eyes widening in shock, he's lost in his own world when he begins to take steps towards you, lips parting in disbelief, voice cracking as he breathes out to say, to beg or plead for forgiveness.

The automatic door opens again as you shuffle forwards to try to step outside, he doesn't fully notice your fear of the weather when he speaks.

"(Y/n)..."

You turn at the sound of your name and his eyes flicker to the large scar along your cheek, the red of your eye still, that had changed the color of your iris, maybe permanently. The way you hold your bag tight in your hands as if to shield it from the rain before yourself.

You don't say anything, he hadn't expected you to. You stare at him, surprised to see him, then the expression changes to terror, brows pulling inward and hands sinking into your bag to bring it closer. His heart aching at your reaction to him, his lips pressing together, he doesn't know if she should say another thing. Just let you go.

"(Y/n), I..." he can't help himself as he continues, breathlessly.

You back away from him, out of the building and into the rain. The moment it hits your back, soaking through your shirt, rain hitting the top of your head, down your back, you tense up and spin around.

Kyle's brows furrow, before worriedly witnessing as you curl into yourself instantly, crying out in terror, your hands coming up and over your head. "(Y/n)!"

Realizing what you'd done, your back hits the glass doorway, too late for the doorway to register you wanting to come back inside. You stumble to the corner of the building, just next to the doorway and under the too small gutter to find any shelter from the pelting water at your skin.

A loud sob leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut, you can feel the torture starting again, the unbearable freeze of your limbs, the force of crashing pounds of water along your spine. The screams they would pull from you...

Your torment lasts only a few seconds, suddenly the rain stops, but the sound continues around you. A coat settling around your shoulders and over your head, Kyle's hands on your shoulders, he's yelling over the thunder. "Come on, let's get you out of this. Come on, (Y/n)," he takes your arms. "Let me help you, please!"

"You did this," you cried. "I told you. I told you it wasn't me. But, you kept turning it back on! And then you'd leave it like that and it drove me fucking insane. I'll never be ok again, I can't--" hyperventilating. "Don't touch me, Kyle."

Kyle swallows thickly, head hanging low, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before leaning down to you. "I can't leave you here like this, please, love," he hauls you up to your feet. You shove him back, pressing yourself further into the corner, shaking, "(Y/n)--"

"Don't put your fucking hands on me. What don't you get, huh?" you spat. Pulling off the jacket he'd placed over you, tensing at ever drop of rain that fell over you after, but you toss it back at him. "I don't want anything from you. Never again."

"I'm sorry," Kyle clutches the jacket. "I'm so bloody sorry. I'm sorry for every damn thing I'd ever done to you. I'm sorry we didn't listen. I should've never done that to you. I didn't want to, I just--I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us," his voice breaks and he cries under the rain as his little sister, his family, hatefully stares him down. "I thought you'd give in, that it'd be over as quick as it started! I'm sorry I couldn't trust that you were telling the truth all that time."

"I don't want your apology!" you yell. "Cause you'll never know the same feeling. You'll never understand what you've taken from me. What you've done to me--" hiccupping painfully.

Kyle looks away from you, inhaling with a shudder, reddening eyes are covered as he raises his hands to run over his face.

"Your apologies. Your wishes for forgiveness," you seethe. " You should keep them. They mean nothing to me."

With that, you shove on past him, re-entering the building and rushing down the hallway, you turn the corner away from Kyle. Leaving the distraught man out in the rain, the automatic door sliding closed as he looks on after you.

Part 5 OUT NOW!

#call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst x reader #ghost angst #cod x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #cod angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley angst

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rafayelxsylusho · 2 months ago

Text

How do the LADS men react when they catch you reading smut. 🫣 Part 5

TW: Smut

Part 1 (Xavier)

Part 2 (Caleb)

Part 3 (Sylus)

Part 4 (Zayne)

You were sitting curled up on your couch, having resorted to losing yourself in the pages of romance novels over the last couple of weeks. Rafayel had been away on a work trip, leaving you with an emptiness that you tried to fill with the printed words and the promise of happily ever afters.

The book was just the kind you always liked, romance with some smut. Every time you stumbled across an oral sex scene, your fingers would linger, tracing the words and marking the page with a dog eared corner. It was a habit born out of a desperate need to overwrite the bitter memory of your past lover's words.

You could still hear his voice echoing in your mind, feel the cold sting of his criticism. The first time he had gone down on you, his nose had wrinkled in disgust. "I don't like the smell," he had muttered, pulling away and leaving you craving his touch. The taste, he had said with a grimace, was even worse. Those words had haunted you, making you question your own desire, your own worth.

You sighed softly, your fingers stilling on the page as you lost yourself in thought, remembering the few times Rafayel had tried to worship you with his mouth. Each time, you had pulled him up, stopping him mid motion, a flush of embarrassment painting your cheeks. You could never bring yourself to give him a reason why, too ashamed to admit the truth.

Rafayel had never pushed, always respecting your boundaries even as confusion clouded his eyes. He probably thought you simply didn't enjoy the act, that the idea of his head between your thighs left you cold. If only he knew the truth, that it was the exact opposite. The thought of his tongue exploring your folds, his lips sealing around your aching clit, made your core clench with need.

You shifted on the couch, your body growing warm as arousal began to course through your veins. The book forgotten as your mind drifted to fantasies of Rafayel's mouth on you, his hands gripping your hips as he feasted on your dripping sex. You wanted to fist your hands in his purple hair, wanted to grind your pussy against his face until you found your release.

A soft whimper escaped your lips at the thought, your thighs clenching together as you felt your panties growing damp. You were embarrassed by your own desire, ashamed of how much you craved the feeling of Rafayel's mouth on you.

Unable to focus on the words on the page any longer, you snapped the book shut, the spine creaking softly as you closed it. Rising from the couch, you placed the book on the small wooden table beside the lamp and made your way to the bathroom to shower, footsteps echoing in the empty apartment. Rafayel would be home in a few hours, and already your body was singing with anticipation, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

The water ran over your skin, washing away the lingering traces of your desire. But even as the heat soaked into your muscles, you couldn't shake the ache between your thighs, the constant hunger that only Rafayel could satisfy.

You tilted your head back, eyes fluttering closed. You bit your lower lip, a soft moan escaping you as you imagined him carrying you out of the bathroom, your naked body on full display as he brought you to the bedroom. You could almost feel his mouth on your breasts, his tongue swirling around the hardened peaks until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

Suddenly you jumped slightly at the sound of Rafayel's voice, a thrill running down your spine at the realization that he was home. You hadn't expected him to be back so soon, figuring you still had a bit more time before his return.

"Just a moment, I'm finishing up in the shower!" you called out, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. Inside, your heart was racing, your body already responding to the mere sound of his voice.

You quickly finished rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the scent of vanilla and honey filling the steamy air. Turning off the taps, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around your body.

Back in your room you picked a simple sundress, the soft fabric falling to just above your knees. It was a dress you knew he liked, one that made his gaze linger on the way it hugged your curves.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you stepped out of your room, your bare feet sinking into the plush carpet of the hallway. You could hear Rafayel moving around in the living room, the soft clink of glass on glass telling you he was likely pouring himself a drink.

You paused for a moment, gathering your courage before stepping into the living room. Rafayel stood with his back to you, pouring a measure of amber liquid into a tumbler. He was dressed in a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of dark slacks that hugged his sculpted ass.

"Welcome," you said softly, stepping further into the room. "I'm glad you're back early." You couldn't help the way your voice wavered slightly.

The moment Rafayel turned to face you, his striking blue and pink eyes locked onto yours, they immediately darkened with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat and in an instant, he was across the room, his long strides eating up the distance between you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his firm chest. His eyes raked over your face, taking in every detail, the flush on your cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly as if in invitation. They drifted lower, lingering on the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric of your sundress. You could feel the heat of his gaze like a physical caress, your skin tingling in its wake.

"God, I've missed you," he breathed, before lowering his head and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent up longing and desire of the time you've spent apart, a kiss that spoke of a hunger that could only be sated by the feel of your body against his.

His lips moved over yours, his tongue delving into the warmth of your mouth to tangle with your own. You could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the smoky flavor mingling with the sweetness of his own unique taste.

His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The other hand on your waist tightened, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body until you could feel every inch of him, from his sculpted chest to the growing bulge in his pants. He kissed you until you were breathless, until your head was spinning and your knees felt weak. He kissed you until you were clinging to him, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself against the storm of sensation he was unleashing.

"We can't... not right now, cutie," he said, his tone laced with regret . "Finish getting ready. I'm taking you back to my house, I have something I want to show you."

You nodded, your body still tingling from Rafayel's intense kiss and touch. With a soft sigh, you stepped back and made your way to your room to finish getting ready. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, trailing over your curves, lingering on the sway of your hips as you moved.

In your room, you quickly finished what you had started, brushing out your damp hair until it fell in soft waves around your shoulders. You slipped on a pair of cute, strappy sandals that showed off the delicate arches of your feet and painted nails. A quick swipe of mascara, a dab of gloss on your lips, and you were ready.

You took a deep breath before stepping back out into the living room, finding Rafayel exactly where you had left him, seated on the couch, one long leg crossed over the other as he sipped his drink.

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the book was no longer on the side table where you had left it, but instead resting on the couch cushion next to Rafayel. A wave of embarrassment washed over you a deep blush spreading across your face

You hoped with every fiber of your being that Rafayel hadn't flipped through the pages, hadn't seen the dog eared corners marking the scenes you found particularly...stimulating. The thought of him reading them, perhaps even catching a glimpse of the words describing the intimate acts you secretly longed to experience with him, made your core clench and your heart race.

Trying to play it cool, you casually made your way over to the couch, stopping a respectable distance away from where Rafayel was seated. "Ready to go?" you asked.

"I'm more than ready," Rafayel murmured, his voice smooth like velvet. In one fluid motion, he downed the last of his drink, the glass clinking softly as he set it back down on the table. Rising to his feet, he towered over you, his tall body casting a shadow that made you feel small and feminine in comparison.

Without warning, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a teasing kiss. It was a mere brush of his mouth against yours and before you could even react, he was pulling away, his hand slipping down to the small of your back as he guided you out of the apartment.

🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡

As you stepped through the doorway of Rafayel's house, suddenly finding yourself swept up into his arms, you let out a surprised gasp that quickly turned into a fit of giggles. "Rafayel!" you squealed, instinctively looping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. "Put me down! I can walk just fine on my own."

Despite your protests, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement course through you at being held so effortlessly in Rafayel's muscular arms. He carried you bridal style, your dress riding up slightly to reveal a peek of your smooth, bare thighs.

Rafayel grinned at your laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your heart flutter. "But I want to carry you," he insisted playfully, giving you a little squeeze as he held you close to his chest. "Buuuuuut, don't ever expect me to give you a piggyback ride, it will only make me look like a sea turtle" he teased, making you laugh even harder.

As Rafayel carried you into the living room, your laughter faded, replaced by a sudden gasp of surprise as you took in the romantic scene before you. The table was set for a fancy dinner, complete with a crisp white tablecloth, gleaming china, and a vase of fresh roses as a centerpiece.

But what caught your eye and made your cheeks flush a deep, telling pink was the painting hung on the wall behind the table. It was a stunning portrait of yourself, captured in a moment of unguarded joy and laughter. Your eyes sparkled, your lips were curved in a radiant smile, and your hair danced around your face as if caught in a soft breeze. The painting was breathtaking, his skills evident in every brushstroke.

"Rafayel..." you breathed, a mix of emotions clogging your throat. "When did you... how did you...?" You were at a loss for words, deeply touched that he had not only thought to create such a romantic setting for your dinner but had also painted your portrait and displayed it so prominently in his home.

Your heart raced as you met Rafayel's gaze, seeing the love and adoration shining in his eyes. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. "It's... it's wonderful," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Rafayel.

"Puh-lease, you deserve much more than this" He said as he carried you closer to the table, letting you take in the romantic scene. "But I wanted to start by showing you, in my own way, how much you mean to me"

He set you down gently on your feet, keeping his arms around your waist as he looked into your eyes. The portrait loomed behind him, the painted version of you smiling down at the two of you, a silent witness to this intimate moment.

"Please, have a seat," he said softly, pulling the chair out for you like a true gentleman.

As you settled into the plush seat, he pushed the chair in, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head before stepping around to take his own seat across from you.

As you both savored the delicious meal, Rafayel talked about his trip, painting a vivid picture of the places he'd seen and the people he'd met. He spoke of the beautiful landscapes, the fascinating art he'd admired, and the new techniques he'd learned, all while his eyes never left yours.

As the plates were cleaned and the wine glasses drained, Rafayel set down his napkin and rose from his seat. "It's time for dessert," he announced with a playful grin, turning to head towards the kitchen.

As he walked back to the table, he stumbled slightly, his hands both occupied with holding two small, beautifully decorated cakes.

Instinctively, you jumped up to help, not wanting him to struggle alone. "Let me help you," you offered, hurrying over to where he stood, trying to regain his balance. As you approached, Rafayel lost his grip on one of the cakes, watching in horror as it tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.

"Oh, damn it," he cursed under his breath, his brow furrowing in frustration. But before he could bend down to clean up the mess, you were already on your knees, carefully gathering the pieces and setting them aside.

"Hand me that napkin..."

Suddenly you felt Rafayel's hands slip under your armpits. Before you could react, he was lifting you effortlessly to your feet, his fingers splaying across your back.

Startled, you let out a soft gasp as Rafayel began to walk you backwards to the table, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made your skin prickle.

With a gentle push of his hand, he swept the empty plates and cutlery aside, clearing a space on the table in front of where he stood. Your heart raced as you realized his intention, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the thought of what he had in mind. "Rafayel," you whispered, surprise and anticipation coloring your voice. But any further protests were silenced as he sat you on the edge of the table.

He stepped between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, his fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh. There was a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I have a different kind of dessert in mind," His hands slid slowly up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your sundress higher and higher until the cool air kissed the bare skin beneath. "And trust me, cutie... Im going to love every single bite."

Rafayel sat back down in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly spread your legs apart, revealing more of your smooth skin.

As he leaned in closer, his face was hovering inches from your knee when you suddenly clenched your thighs together.

Rafayel paused, his hands still in between your thighs as he tilted his head to the side, his expression a mix of curiosity "Wait," he said softly, "How is it that you have no problem reading such...delicious filthy things in your books, but when I want to make them a reality for you, you suddenly get all shy?"

He leaned back slightly, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he studied your face, trying to understand the contradiction in your behavior.

You took a deep, shaky breath, your cheeks burning with a fierce blush as you tried to find the right words. The truth hung heavily on your tongue, but you knew you could no longer hide from Rafayel, not when he was looking at you like that.

"Rafayel, I... I don't taste good down there," you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Embarrassed, you turned your face away from him, unable to meet his gaze as you confessed your insecurity. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't want you to think that I'm not appreciative of what you want to do. It's just..."

Before you could finish your confession, Rafayel's deep, rumbling voice cut through the air, "How do you know that?" he asked, his thumbs pausing their gentle circles on your thighs as he waited for your answer.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to bring up an ex-boyfriend while in the midst of this intimate moment with Rafayel. But seeing no alternative, you took a deep breath and replied softly, "A guy I was seeing before you... he told me that."

Rafayel let out a soft laugh at your words "Oh, so it was one of those boys, huh?" he mused, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

At the sound of his laughter, you found yourself turning back to face him, your curiosity piqued. As your gaze met his, you were struck by the sudden intensity of his eyes, they blazed with a mix of amusement, affection, and a hint of something else.

Rafayel's hand slid slowly up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You know, y/n ," he murmured "I want to do absolutely filthy things to you, especially to this cute little cunt of yours."

As he spoke those dirty words, his hand reached the hem of your dress, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to brush against the damp lace of your panties. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, could sense the way your body responded to his touch, even through the thin barrier of your underwear.

"But only if you let me," Rafayel purred, as he gazed deeply into your eyes. At the same time, he gently tugged your panties to the side and sank a single finger inside you, feeling your walls clench around the sudden intrusion. He groaned softly at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savored the feeling of your heat around his finger.

"And if you like what I'm about to do..." Rafayel said, his finger slowly pumping in and out of your tight cunt, "I won't be able to stop at just once. I'll need to taste you again and again until you are dripping down my chin.

He slowly pulled his glistening finger from your pussy, a low groan escaping his lips as he took in the sight of your arousal coating it and without a word, he brought his hand up to your mouth, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Open your mouth cutie ," he commanded softly, the tip of his finger brushing against your lower lip, smearing your arousal there. "Taste yourself on me. Taste how sweet and delicious you are."

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks burning with embarrassment at the thought of tasting your own arousal. But the hunger in his eyes was impossible to ignore, his intense gaze daring you to comply with his command.

With a shaky breath, you parted your lips, allowing his finger to slip into your mouth. The moment it touched your tongue, you could taste the evidence of your desire, the faintly sweet and slightly musky flavor exploding across your taste buds. It was a new and intense experience, one that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine as you swirled your tongue around his finger.

Unable to hold back any longer, Rafayel acted on his primal instincts and in one swift motion, he bunched up the hem of your dress and brought the fabric to your lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "Here, hold this for me," his voice was thick with lust. "Bite down on it."

You reluctantly clamped your teeth onto the fabric, the action exposed your covered cunt to his hungry eyes, the damp lace clinging to you like a second skin.

He grabbed your hips, his strong hands gripping you possessively as he gently pulled you to the edge of the table. You gasped softly as he suddenly bent your right leg, exposing you even further to his greedy eyes. A shiver ran through you when he leaned in, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

He didn't dive in immediately, teasing you with a trail of soft kisses. His lips suckled at the delicate skin near your knee, his tongue darting out to taste you, to leave a path of fire in its wake. Slowly, torturously, he worked his way up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center.

"Rafayel..." you whimpered around the fabric stuffed in your mouth, your hips writhing with anticipation.

Rafayel continued sucking dark hickeys into the soft skin of your inner thigh, marking you as his. Each one sent jolts of electricity zipping through your nervous system, making you squirm and gasp.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to bear the intensity of the sensations, Rafayel lifted his head and a breathy moan escaped your lips as you felt the ghost of his breath skating across your cunt. Instinctively, you tried to clamp your thighs together, but Rafayel was too quick, his hands gripped your knees, holding them firmly apart as he gazed at your glistening folds, barely concealed by the damp lace of your panties. "Don't hide from me, my cute miss bodyguard, I want to see all of you, taste all of you."

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against the damp fabric as he inhaled deeply, taking in your intoxicating scent. "Fuck, you smell divine," he groaned.

You felt Rafayel hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties, the damp lace clinging to your sensitive flesh. With a sharp tug, he yanked them down your legs, the scrap of fabric sliding over your skin and baring your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze.

"Look at you," Rafayel growled "So fucking wet and ready for me. I've barely touched you and you're already dripping."

Instead of immediately giving in to the urge to devour you whole, Rafayel paused. He trailed his fingers lightly through your folds, feeling the hot, silky evidence of your arousal coating his digits. Slowly, teasingly, he circled your entrance with the pad of his thumb, applying a delicious pressure that made your walls clench and flutter eagerly.

You let out a soft whimper, your body aching for more of his touch. Rafayel looked up at you "Patience my petite artiste," he murmured as the rough pad of his thumb pressed against the swollen nub, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. At the same time, he slipped two long, thick fingers deep inside you, curling them just so to brush against that special spot that made you see stars.

You gasped and writhed beneath his touch, your body overwhelmed with the intense sensations. An arm flung over your eyes as you surrendered to the feeling, your breath coming in sharp, quick pants. Soft mewls and whimpers escaping as Rafayel worked you over with skilled fingers. Drool was beginning to soak the fabric you had been biting down on.

You could feel the heat of his breath puffing against your dripping folds, could sense how close his handsome face was to your core. The knowledge that he wasn't repulsed, that he wanted to taste you, to consume you, only heightened your arousal. Your juices flowed freely, coating his fingers and dripping down onto the table beneath you.

As you felt your climax building, your body tensing and coiling like a spring ready to snap, Rafayel changed his tactic. Just as you were on the edge of ecstasy, he dragged his tongue along your slit. The sensation was electric, sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He started at your entrance, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal that coated them. He groaned at the taste of you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh and pushing you even closer.

You cried out, your voice echoing through the room as Rafayel's lips closed around your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as you clung to it for dear life. The fabric you had been biting down on fell from your lips, leaving Rafayel under the skirt of your dress.

"Oh god—" you gasped, your words dissolving into a strangled moan as he sucked even harder on your clit, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.

Your hips jerked and bucked, trying to grind against his face, desperate for more of that exquisite friction. The feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit, suckling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, combined with the thrust of his fingers pumping in and out of you was pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

"Oh fuck—" you panted, pulling your dress back, hands tangling in his hair as you held him against you, not wanting him to stop. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his fingers, growing tighter and tighter as your climax rapidly approached.

Rafayel!" you screamed, your voice breaking as the first waves of your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shuddered, juices gushing from your spasming cunt to flood his mouth and chin. Your hands gripped his hair harder, simultaneously pulling him closer and pushing him away as you rode out the crest of your climax.

A final moan tore from your throat as the last waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you feeling boneless. When your eyes fluttered open, you found Rafayel looking at you, his face glistening with your juices. He wore a smug, satisfied smirk as he took in the sight of you, wrecked by the force of your orgasm.

"Well?" he asked before he licked his lips, savoring your taste.

Suddenly, tears began to stream down your cheeks, your emotions running high from the intense experience. Rafayel's expression immediately shifted to one of concern as he took in your sudden distress. He gently removed his fingers from your core and brushed the tears from your face with his thumb, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Cutie, what's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. "Did I hurt you somehow? I'm so sorry if I did..."

He trailed off as he noticed the way your shoulders shook with silent sobs, confusion etched across his face. Just then, a small hiccup escaped your lips, followed by a choked laugh.

"I can't believe I've been missing out on this all this time. Why did I wait so long to let you do that?"

Rafayel blinked in surprise at your words, then let out a deep, rumbling laugh. He shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Oh, cutie," he chuckled, his thumb brushing away another stray tear. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you never have to go without again."

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