#i know he puts on a front and everything but its still stupid as hell!!! at least have apollos internal thoughts show that despite klavier

[kenozumin]

okay since some people asked me to yap, i will yap !!!

a big reason why people don’t care that much about jonnaay’s character often is just because they think that what he does isn’t lore—and they aren’t wrong. cc!jonnaay doesn’t wake up and decide he is going to do some fire villainous rp today, no, he’s going onto the realm to fuck around and make people laugh, and that’s all good, i know that, it’s just the stuff he does for shits and giggles ends up fitting the plot really well—at least in my opinion.

i mean, he was one of the first four outworlders brought into the realm to fight the corruption, until all four of them were ultimately consumed by their snails because of their own weariness to let the snails feed on their memories.

when he is brought back, he wanders a little aimlessly on his own ventures until mocha tells him that he would like for him to take on his role as being the one to complete the kill quests, wherein he makes the choice to step up to the challenge and grow powerful enough to help his red faction brothers and sisters with the hope of completing the kill quests for them. and he was DEDICATED, this role was going to be his purpose, it was his greatest goal—a goal that never ultimately comes to fruition between the quests stopping and red faction essentially fading into obscurity as they left him behind.

and then—what now?

this guy’s purpose on the realm is so deeply intertwined with his faction and being this fighter. and now his faction has been reduced to nothing but a silly joke?

he was essentially the last remnants of red faction’s hostility, their anger and resentment, and there’s still nothing left for him. his faction mates hardly log on, the few that occasionally do have ditched him and faction-swapped, the remnants of red’s lands and culture have been stripped away from him with sausage leaving for yellow, and this glorious goal he was striving for, of being able to complete the kill quests, didn’t even work out.

so here comes little aimsey, on his own mission to obtain all of the shards—and he has been successful! but there’s one obstacle, and that is jonnaay, the final piece to the puzzle. but, he just doesn’t want to give it up, and why should he?

he has no idea about the corruption or the skulk and its relations with pangi and aimsey. he doesn’t know that this final shard means life or death for his friends. all he knows is that this shard belongs to him, that he fought that dragon and obtained it fair and square like everyone else, why does he have to give it up?

he doesn’t have anything else! jonnaay has joined this realm and watched everything he has be taken away from him—his memories, his human autonomy, his faction leader, his red faction members, and now they want this bloody shard too!

not even to mention how not long after, jonnaay will have to watch as faction leaders who couldn’t care less about his existence try and strip the red in his name, the only thing he has! and he doesn’t care about faction politics or fights or how red faction hardly exists, but he can’t just watch idly as his entire identity is taken from him too, because jonnaay is red!

he is pure and utterly red and he doesn’t know how to make way being anything else! so yeah, he looks stupid as hell armor-less and unserious while trying to put on the persona of a faction leader in front of the likes of people like foolish and bad, but this is all he has!

there is a reason why jonnaay goes around saying he has nothing left to lose, and the truth is that he doesn’t. not a single thing remains for him to keep, nothing with permanence, not even the red in his name.

so why would he care to stop that stupid architect, traitor pangolin, and dumb labrat from destroying his base, destroying his home, and destroying his things. he might as well help them while they are there! they can ban him off the server, they can loot his possessions out of his ender chest, erase his home until it’s as though he never existed in the first place, he doesn’t care! because he has nothing left to lose anymore.

absolutely nothing.

im more active on twt, but unfortunately on there i do not get to talk about how intriguing i find tr!jonnaay. he is so SO interesting and the implications of his actions and choices in the greater setting of the realm, especially as a red faction member, make it SO much better. it literally makes the chemicals in my brain go off just thinking about it, in a good way ofc !!

unfortunately, i dont think most people on there would care for that sort of perspective, so im forced to bite my tongue :< it doesn't stop me from thinking about him though T _ T

[akihikosanada]

will they ever let klavier snap i'm so serious

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[zayneslady]

summary: it's been a while since the last time you saw him, but you missed him so terribly.

warnings: angst/comfort. Happy endings for the win *sobs* Pt. 2 of these scenarios

characters: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier x reader (separately)

a/n: I wanted to apologize. I got some comments saying that perhaps I wrote them a bit too ooc and that they wouldn't do something like this, so I was thinking maybe I should step out from writing these; I'm probably not understanding the characters very well. I'm really sorry! I had this one written already, so this is probably going to be the last post I make! Thank you for your support! In only a couple of days you guys were so amazing and loving, I'm super moved and I don't deserve you all at all ❤️

classification: scenarios

tag list: many of you asked me to tag you in the second part, I hope you guys like it! 💕

@biitchyberry @rosaryia @lcheerymotion @mo0nforme

ZAYNE ❄️

It's been four weeks since your argument with Zayne. The first days had been like hell. You had already tasted the honey of a relationship with the person you liked the most and loved the most. You wanted more of him, you needed more. You felt anxious without him, like you had become addicted to his kisses, his gentle touch, and the sweet words he whispered in your ears. You missed him more than you dared to admit.

The days passed slowly, each second seemed to last an eternity. When you got home you felt the emptiness of his presence and you felt like dying, but life continued on, and eventually you got used to being without him. The pain was still present, but more bearable as time kept its course. 

You had stopped frequenting the places you knew he liked for fear of running into him. The dessert shop, the cafe near the hospital, the night stands near the library. You even avoided getting sick so you wouldn't have to go to the hospital. Your life was limited to going to work and coming straight home, with occasional visits to buy groceries. 

You would never have thought that you would have to live a life again without Zayne and only because he didn't know how to separate his friendships from his romantic partner. So smart, but so stupid at the same time. 

You sighed, returning to the present and the food you were making; it was too late when you realized it, but unconsciously you were making one of his favorite dishes. You weren't going to waste the food, so you just carried on trying not to think much about it. 

“Now, where did I put–,” you stopped, surprised by the sudden knocking on your door. You frowned, you were not expecting anyone, but the knocking continued once more and you sighed, turned off the stove. “I'm coming.”

You regretted opening the door. Opening just a crack to see who it was, your heart fluttered in your chest as if there was a small caged bird inside it. Zayne was standing in front of you. He looked ridiculously tired, more than you'd ever seen him. The bags and dark circles under his eyes were deep, his skin did not look radiant and healthy as always and his eyes did not shine like emeralds. 

Your hands were sweating and your insides were churning. "Are you okay?" You asked with a broken voice. Zayne shook his head and he fainted, but with a gasp, you quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and tried to keep him upright. “Zayne! Hey, what's happening?” 

Zayne didn't answer you, and just leaned on you. Not knowing what to do, you dragged him inside and carefully guided him to your room. Once there, you laid him down on your bed, he looked weak. 

“Zayne? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

He mumbled your name and your heart raced. “I'm… I am sorry,” he said as he finally passed out. You gasped, but soon heard the soft snores you were so used to. 

Was he that exhausted? And what was he doing at your house? You frowned, fighting back the stinging sensation in your eyes as you tried to hold back some tears. He really always appeared to stir everything inside you. You had already accepted your life without him, but here he was. You sighed heavily, taking off Zayne's shoes and covering him with a blanket.

Your eyes couldn't help but admire him. Even though he was tired, he still looked as handsome as ever. It seemed like a dream, an illusion that would disappear at any moment. You wanted it to happen. You wanted him to disappear, but at the same time, you wanted to take him in your arms and kiss his face. But no, clearing your throat, you grabbed an extra blanket and left the room, closing the door behind you. It was better to let him rest so he could leave as soon as he got up. 

The next morning you woke up to soft steps. Sitting up and whining a little after sleeping on the couch, you saw Zayne coming out from your bedroom. His hair was messy and he was rubbing one of his eyes like a little child, something warm spread across your chest and a smile tried to spread your lips, but you stopped it. He seemed more rested, the bags under his eyes had diminished considerably and his skin looked a little more alive. 

“Zayne.”

He seemed a bit startled as he looked at you with slightly wide eyes. “Hello… I am sorry I fell asleep.” 

You hummed, folding the blanket. “Haven't you been sleeping well?" You didn't want to sound worried, but you were. 

“I haven't… I constantly have nightmares and I've been working over time… a lot more."

“Why?”

“Because I can't stop thinking about you,” he said and despair filled his eyes. “You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I have been working nonstop so I can have my mind occupied, but you're always there, in the back of my head.” 

Don't cry. Don't cry! 

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Zayne?” You said coldly, wanting to get over with this. 

Zayne approached you and you couldn't move as he took your hands. “Please, please. Give me another chance. I swear. I swear in my life that I do not have feelings for her. I just… I was just stupid and took you for granted. Please, my love, please.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes and you cried even harder as Zayne grabbed your face. "N-No, don't touch me.”

“Please. How can I show you I truly want you? Do you want me to stop talking to her? I'll do it. I'll do it, so please. Just… please. I can't live without you.” His words sounded sincere.

His eyes were glassy and the pain on his face was evident, but your heart still hurt. How did you know that he really wouldn't leave you as a second option anymore? You couldn't even tell him to stop talking to Miss Hunter, you knew this was just Zayne's fault. 

“Zayne… Zayne you're hurting me so much.”

“I know. I know I am and I am terribly sorry for this. I love you. I truly love you.” 

You also loved him, so much. 

“... If this ever happens again, Zayne… I won't forgive you another time. Remember that.”

His green eyes shone with happiness as he pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, the tips of your fingers tingling as you felt his warmth, the tip of your nose digging into the crook of his neck, you breathed deeply, enjoying his scent. 

“You're on trial, Zayne.”

Zayne chuckled and he nodded. “Yes. You won't regret me, I promise you.”

RAFAYEL 🐠

Life was boring without him. He was the spark and the spice in your days. With him, every day seemed like a small adventure, but now that you no longer saw him, the days seemed dark and lifeless. You didn't even remember how much time had passed since that day. One week? Three days? Two months? You weren't sure and, honestly, you tried not to think about it too much because, even though you missed him, the pang of pain in your heart almost made you gasp for air every single time you recalled every moment with him. It was almost as if his bodyguard had also been there, on every date with Rafayel, for all of your conversations were about her. 

He was full of praise for her. He named each of her virtues and laughed affectionately at her defects. He didn't accept anyone claiming that they were better than her or stronger, because his precious bodyguard was the strongest and the bestest. Just thinking about it made you feel tears filling your eyes. You didn't want to remember any of it, but as you held your phone with your thumb hovering over the dial button, you couldn't stop thinking about how miserable Rafayel made you feel, even when he also made you feel like the most loved person in the world. 

When he didn't have his mouth full of his wonderful bodyguard, Rafayel showered you with affection. His kisses, his hugs, and his caresses all felt full of love and tenderness. His beautiful eyes looked at you sweetly, as if you were the most precious thing that ever existed on earth. He liked to tease you and make you laugh and he always said that you were like a muse for all his paintings: The sparkle in your eyes, the color of your hair, the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, everything was inspiration.

How could he be so cruel and loving all at the same time? Poor bodyguard, you even didn't like her although she hadn't done anything wrong, as far as you knew. 

Sighing, you finally tapped on the green button and your heart raced faster and faster at every beep coming from the other side of the line. Would he answer you? Was he… with her? Was he busy with one of his paintings? What if- 

His voice calling your name surprised you, making you jump. “I’m here! Hi!” he sounded out of breath and your cheeks blushed. “Hmm, h-how are you d-doing?” 

“Rafayel…,” you took a deep breath. “I… have some clothes at your place. Could I stop by later to get them?” 

“YES! I… I mean… yes. I'll- I'll be here all day. You can stop by at any time you want.”

“... Right. Then, see you there, Rafayel.” 

You let out a long sigh after hanging up. You had forgotten how wonderful his voice was and the way he pronounced your name. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were going to see him, you were really going to come again, but you shouldn't be excited. What if he and his bodyguard were dating? The thought made your stomach twist and you decided it was best to leave immediately. The quicker you finish this, the better. 

As always, the door was open, but you didn't immediately enter, your hands were shaking and your heart was racing against your ribcage. You didn't want to see him.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pushed the door open and you were greeted with that aroma that you had missed so much. The smell of acrylic paint, the sea and Rafayel's scent. You couldn't help but take a long breath- this exquisite smell felt like home. Your eyes watered a little, but you tried to stay calm as you walked deeper into the spacious house.

“R-Rafayel? Are you here? "You heard a gasp from the room and in a second, Rafayel appeared in front of you. Ah, he looked as wonderful and beautiful as always. His gorgeous eyes were wide, looking you up and down as his mouth stretched into a shy smile. You wanted to hug him. “The door… was open so I just- I'm sorry.”

“No! That's okay! I… I left it open for you!” 

You nodded. “I see… do you mind if I just…”

“No, go ahead, please.” You excuse yourself as you made your way to his room, as you passed by him you felt your legs tremble and you gasped in surprise when he suddenly took your hand.

“Rafayel, what-

“Please, forgive me,” he begged, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful expression. “I was absolutely wrong, you were so right. I was stupid and careless and hurt you so badly.”

“Rafayel… I just came for my clothing, let me g-

“Please!” He hugged you and you went stiff. “Please, please,” he sobbed in your ear. 

“Are you crying?” 

He nodded. “I can't live another second without you. I can't paint anymore. I feel like a piece of me has been taken away, I live half and barely. I really, really do not have feelings for my bodyguard. You're the only one I can think about.”

“Then why- 

“I just… I was just stupid, I didn't mean anything to hurt you, I swear! When I said I missed her, what I wanted to say is that I wanted to train with her, I would never make you train, that's too dangerous,” he started to explain in a rush. “When I told you about the candies, it's because she gave me some amazing chocolate I wanted to gift you and then-

“Rafayel-

“Please. Just this once, I swear,” he said, finally showing his reddened face, tears streaming down his face. You gulped, reaching up to clean his tears away and he whined. “I wasn't there to wipe your tears, I am so sorry.” 

That made you burst into tears. That's right, you really wanted him to wipe your tears. He gently cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching all of those tears falling from your pretty eyes. 

“You can break up with me if I do something like that again! But please… just this once. I love you so much. I really do.” 

You looked at him, His eyes were still wet and some tears were still falling down his cheeks. Maybe…

“Just this once, Rafayel… I won't forgive anything like this ever again.” He beamed and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, but you covered his mouth, frowning slightly. “I'm still mad at you.”

He blinked and gently smiled behind your hand before taking it in his. “Of course, I'll prove myself to you, beautiful creation.” 

XAVIER ⭐

You couldn't sleep. It's been two weeks since you last slept properly. Two weeks ago you were in Xavier's arms and he held you lovingly, whispering words of comfort in your ears. You weren't sure why, but being around Xavier always made you feel relaxed, a little sleepy, but never bored. You loved spending lazy times with him, taking naps and frolicking in bed, giggling like fools and giving each other soft, tender kisses. 

With his warmth and love it was not difficult to fall asleep at night, he always wanted to sleep so that tranquility that emanated from him was enough to relax you and make you sleep throughout the whole night. In the mornings you felt rejuvenated and full of life and seeing his sleepy smile was like living in a dream. 

You felt your bottom lip quiver into a pout. You missed him too much. You never thought he would behave that way. Had you never really been important to him? If he wanted to be with his partner so much, why had he even agreed to go out with you in the first place? 

“Agh! I hate you Xavier!” You cried, banging your fists against the table in your kitchen. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?” Maybe you really had gone crazy, talking to the table like that. 

There was no time for this. It was almost dark and you still needed to go buy some groceries for your dinner. You struggled out of your house, so tired and dragging your feet. You wanted to sleep... with Xavier. You wanted to feel his warmth. But... what if he now wrapped his partner in his arms? Your cheeks turned red and, trying to avoid thinking about it, you hurried to catch the bus. 

You found a seat near the door and next to a young man, there weren't as many people as you imagined and as the bus started to go you felt your eyes heavy. Maybe... you could sleep for a few minutes? The store wasn't far away, so just a few minutes... just a couple of minutes… 

You heard your name being called between clouds. From far away. Over and over and over. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

“Hmm?” You opened your eyes and gasped, How long had it been?! Where were you? And... why was your head...? Had you fallen asleep on someone's shoulder?! "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" You said, raising your head only to find that the young man next to you... "Xavier?!" 

The hunter blinked, his eyes avoided yours for a second before looking directly at you and nodding a small greeting. Had he been there next to you the whole time? You could barely notice what was happening around you with how tired you were, but, strangely, you felt very good. It seemed like he really was the cure for all your ills. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. Xavier looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side like a little bird. 

“I'm sorry, Xavier. I didn't know you were there,” you jumped, “but wait, where are we?!” Checking outside the window, you could tell you were far away from the store now. 

“We're almost at my place,” he said gently and the alarms in your head set off. His partner... didn't she live in the apartment below?! Oh no. Before, you had no problem staying at Xavier's house, but... if they were really in a relationship…

“I gotta go,” you said, seeing the next bus station. It was already dark outside.

“Where are you going?” Xavier asked and you frowned.

“What do you mean? Back home. I only wanted to go to the store, but I fell asleep as you could see… Now it's even dark. Thankfully it's not raining,” you were babbling to yourself as you waited to arrive at the next stop, when you finally did, you got up. “Sorry about that, Xavier. Goodnight.” 

"Now... The next bus…," you mumbled checking the bus's schedule. "10 minutes? Lucky~"

“I'll go with you.” 

You couldn't help but squeal and jump when you heard his voice right behind you. Turning around, you saw him standing there, as tall as he was and as bright as the stars. 

“I'll take you home. It's dark. Something could happen.”

You rolled your eyes. "What could happen, I'm only going home.” 

“Some witnesses have seen wanderers in the area. I can't let you go alone." 

You sat on the bench, arms crossed, Xavier sitting next to you. "Ah, that's true. I'm not strong like your... Forget it." Your cheeks turned red. Very well! Keep opening your big mouth! Xavier didn't say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you and the blush on your cheeks traveled to the tips of your ears. 

Silence reigned between you. You could feel him, his warmth, he was so close to you, you could reach out and touch his knee. Your eyes felt heavy, you wanted to hug him. 

“I am sorry,” he suddenly said and you thought you imagined it but then he repeated it. “I am sorry for what I said the other day.” You turned to look at him and flinched when he saw his bright eyes looking sad and red. “I don't know what I was thinking. Talking like that in front of my girlfriend. Acting like I didn't want to have been there with you, but you're the only person I want close to me. I don't like nor have feelings for my coworker, I only want and need you.” 

He gently wiped a tear from your rosy cheek, his touch was electrifying. 

“You haven't been sleeping well.” You didn't answer, but he continued. “I haven't been able to sleep either. I keep recalling that day and seeing your crying face, I can't stand it… please forgive me.” 

He took your hands and you finally looked up at him, your eyes widening as you saw a small tear fall down his cheek. 

“I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I still beg you, I beg you to give me another chance. I promise I'll do better. Something like this will never happen again. I was an idiot." 

You frowned, “you were an idiot. Do you have any idea how you made me feel? It's hard to believe you love me.” 

He nodded, listening to you carefully. “I know it's hard to believe, but please let me prove it to you, let me show you how much I love you, please. I can't be without you anymore, my star. I need you, otherwise I'll go crazy. Please.” 

You sobbed and Xavier gently pulled you close to him. Wrapping you between his warm arms. You tried to pull away, but he didn't let you and soon you melted in his embrace, crying into his work clothes. 

“Please, give me another chance.” 

You nodded softly. Just one more chance. “There's not gonna be a second time,” you warned between sobs and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. 

“I won't need them. I will treasure you as the most valuable thing that you are. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 11

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10

Steve waits until everyone’s gone home to open the letter. Chrissy had ribbed him over not sharing but, no matter how supportive she is, she just doesn’t get it—she can’t. No matter what she’s shared, her and Jeff are clearly dating. And even if they hadn’t been, Jeff likes girls. The worst thing that would’ve happened is him turning her down.

With Eddie? The worst thing that could happen is total annihilation.

And Steve’s never been good at holding himself back. He cares fast, and he cares hard, and he can never quite stop, no matter what changes, or how much distance he puts between himself and the other person. Look at Nancy, and Tommy, and Carol, and his parents, and every single relationship he’s had where he’s all in, and the other person never meets him. He doesn’t even need halfway, hell, he’d take a quarter.

But even that’s never how it works out. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steve Harrington is too much, always.

So, if his fingers shake as he opens the letter, who can blame him?

But, inside is everything he could have ever asked for—Because you’re it, baby. He caresses the words, fingers trembling, heart shuddering in his chest to a beat that sounds a lot like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

He knows it’s stupid. This letter isn’t for Steve, not really. It’s Chrissy’s face Eddie pictured when he wrote it, Chrissy’s lips he imagined kissing, Chrissy’s hand he imagined holding. But, it’s hard to remember, when there’s such longing on the page in front of him.

He doesn’t know what to say, thoughts running too fast to pick them out and write them down. He tries, pen stuttering over the page in half-formed sentences, until he’s left with:

  Eddie —

  You don’t want to know what I

  Someone has loved you. I love

  I’ll take anything you

  Fuck

Hee crumples the letter up into a ball, and tosses it across the room toward the trash bin. He shoots, he misses, he lays down with all the lights still on.

Steve stares down at Eddie’s letter, helpless in the face of the bubbling hope, unwilling to squash it. He folds the letter back up and puts it under his pillow, hoping for dreams, just like Eddie had said.

He doesn’t.

Steve’s tired the next morning, zoning out during class, and shuffling through the halls like a zombie. Chrissy keeps sending him worried looks, and even Robin asks if he’s okay in Mrs. Click’s class, which she was right, they do share.

Steve tells her he’s just tired, and she drops it, but there’s a sad, knowing smile on her face.

It happens at lunch. Eddie jumps up on his lunch table, boots thudding loudly against its metal surface, drawing all eyes in the room toward him. Everyone looks away, familiar with his tabletop rants by now, but Steve can’t look away.

Eddie’s magnetic when he’s like this, a black hole swirling everything up in its path. Steve doesn’t want to miss a thing, barely blinks as Eddie begins the familiar walk across the Hellfire table.

“Forced conformity, folks—it’s what’s killing the kids!” he cries, clapping fast to punctuate the sentence. Across Steve’s own table, Tommy boos, gaining momentum when the people around him laugh and join in. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty, Hagan, you’re the worst of all.”

He’s grinning, but it’s not the dimpled one. He’s just baring his teeth, a predator scenting blood. “You’re all so focused on shooting balls in laundry baskets, like that’s all there is, but guess what? You’re going to be a washed-up has-been before you’re even out of this school.”

He takes a few steps forward, eyes straying from Tommy farther up the table, making it clear he’s talking to all of them. “You don’t realize that daddy’s money’s gonna dry up, and you’ll be left with a wife and three kids you don’t even like, reliving the old glory days like they were even worth remembering.”

“Come say that to my face, Munson!” Tommy cries, standing up from the table as the rest of them egg him on.

Eddie makes a little rock and roll symbol and smirks, like that’s exactly what he wanted Tommy to say. “And you know what? That’s all you’ll deserve for the shit you’ve pulled. A sad lonely life with your sad flaccid dick.”

And suddenly, he’s looking right at Steve, gaze piercing straight through Steve and into his soft, squishy underbelly. There’s blood in the water, and by Eddie’s laugh, he can taste it. “You’ve earned it,” he says, not even blinking, his eyes so intense Steve can’t breath with it. “After all, once a jock, always a jock.”

Chrissy links their fingers and squeezes his hand beneath the table. Steve blinks, spell broken as he squeezes her back in thanks. He looks down at his remaining chicken nuggets, appetite gone.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks, barely audible with all the continued heckling.

Steve glances up just in time to watch Eddie jump down from the table and plop his ass down like none of it happened at all. He’s laughing as Jeff and Gareth pat his back, but he looks deflated, like the whole spectacle took everything out of him.

“I will be,” Steve replies, pushing his lunch tray away.

If nothing else, he has something to write now.

*** 

Eddie can’t get the look on Harrington’s face out of his mind. He’d been at the top of his game, riling the jocks up enough that Hagan had jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. But, then he’d looked at Harrington, and it’d all gone wrong.

The guy was drooping into himself, mouth down-turned, eyes like a kicked puppy. Eddie stuttered, got caught up in him, something unnameable stuck in his throat. Eddies doesn’t even know what he’d said after that, couldn’t hear himself think much less speak, until Harrington finally looked down at the tabletop and their eye contact broke. 

Now he’s stumbling over his words, trying not to even look Harrington’s way as he finishes off his speech. It lacks the usual oomph, but Eddie doesn’t care; he just wants the whole thing to end.

Eddie stumbles down into his chair, shuddering through his smile as Gareth and Doug elbow him in the side, ribbing him good-naturedly. He chokes out a laugh, and doesn’t look at the jock’s table for the rest of lunch.

The next time he sees Harrington, there’s another complication to contend with in the form of Robin Buckley, best known for her proficiency on the trumpet and quirky outfits. And now? She’s best known for attaching herself like a barnacle to Harrington’s side.

Except, if she was a barnacle, Harrington might at least try to shake her off. But, no. He just smiles at her, and whispers with her, as she inserts herself between Chrissy and Harrington like she belongs there.

Chrissy, for her part, seems to like the girl as well.

Eddie doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend what the hell’s happening, and it makes something squirmy and viscous sink into his stomach every time Buckley inserts herself between the pair, every time they smile at her.

But, they still stop to talk to him in between classes, so Eddie tries to drop it.

“It just doesn’t make sense!” Eddie cries, phone clutched to his ear, not even letting Gareth get a word out before he’s continuing the conversation Jeff had rudely interrupted by showing up to lunch. “What the hell is Harrington’s deal?”

“Dude, you’re like, obsessed,” Gareth replies, clearly talking around a mouthful of whatever after-school snack he’d chosen this time.

“Is he trying to date every girl in school at the same time?” he whines, yanking on his hair hard enough that his scalp tingles.

“You’re just jealous,” he replies, and that same squirmy feeling makes Eddie wriggle his whole body, like there’s a chill in the air.

Is the heater on the fritz again?

“Of who?” Eddie screeches before quieting down, peeking into the living room to make sure Uncle Wayne hasn’t stirred. He hasn’t, but Eddie still keeps his voice lowered as he continues hissing into the receiver. “Of Harrington? Don’t be absurd.”

Gareth laughs, “I don’t know, man, but this whole thing is just getting weird.”

“I know, right? What are they up to?” Eddie asks, ignoring Gareth’s muttered “not what I meant,” like he hadn’t said anything at all.

He never figures it out because Buckley never comes around—not to band practice, or Hellfire, or any of the other times Chrissy and Eddie (and Harrington) are in the same place. Eddie should be relieved. He’s not.

Everything is spiraling out of his control.

But, the letters keep coming, and Eddie keeps devouring them

  Eddie —

  I really liked your tabletop speech this week, even though you made fun of the jocks. Some of them definitely deserve it. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

  You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’. I love your laugh, I thought about it all day. Kind of like when your favorite song gets stuck in your head.

  I know I’ve said it before, but I do really like you. But, if you knew me, I don’t think you’d like me. It’s okay, though. I’m stupid like that—always putting my whole heart into people who don’t feel the same.

  I’m sorry, this is probably not the letter you hoped to get. I’ll be better next time, promise.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. Put your response in the World Atlas, the long one that they have to put sideways on the bookshelf (because no matter where you are, I’ll always think of you).

They all make something flutter within him like his lungs are growing wings and flapping themselves out of his body entirely. Even as it leaves him breathless and aching, he wants more of it, longs for it.

It’s just—she sounds so sad, lately, like she’s losing hope in this at all.

All Eddie wants to do is reassure her. So, he keeps writing back, pulling his heart off his sleeve and flinging it down on the page for Chrissy to read, hoping he’ll somehow see those same feelings reflected in her eyes.

He never does.

So, he pokes; he wheedles; he pines for a girl on a page that never quite stands before him. And he pours it all onto the page.

  Secret Admirer,

  I don’t think it’s all jocks—you’re too nice for that. But even you have to admit that a lot of the jocks are only doing it to be at the top of the food chain. Guys like Carver and Harrington Hagaon? They don’t even care about sports, they just want peons to fawn over them. But, there’s people like you, too, so maybe more of them are better than I expect.

  I can’t imagine knowing who you are and not liking you. You’re the nicest girl I know. You don’t have to tell me who you are, but if you do? I promise, it’ll all be okay.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

  P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s not enough—something is breaking open in him that words on the page can’t quite mend.

“I’m going to ask her out,” Eddie says once Harrington and Chrissy have left the latest Hellfire session, still inexplicably coming despite never playing.

Jeff chokes on his sip of soda, coughing harshly enough that some of it comes out of his mouth and splatters onto the table.

“Gross, dude,” Doug says, but still pats his back like he’s burping a baby.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks, tone disbelieving.

Eddie makes crazy eyes at him, trying to psychically beam all his thoughts into Gareth’s head like, yes I’m serious, and, you know about the notes, why are you looking at me like that, and, what the hell else am I supposed to do to crack this mystery wide open?

“That is such a bad idea,” Jeff cuts in once he’s got his coughing under wraps.

Eddie whips towards him, scowling at his best friend as he replies, “you’re just jealous.”

Jeff sighs, heaves himself out of his chair, says a quick, “whatever, dude,” and walks out of the room without a backward glance.

“Aren’t you his ride?” Doug asks.

Eddie flaps his hand in dismissal and replies, “forget about him,” despite his gut sinking down into his boots at Jeff’s words.

“Well, how are you going to do it?” Gareth asks, the only one of his friends to seem even remotely excited.

Eddie keeps flapping his hand and replies, “never you mind.”

That even gets Gareth to scoff, knowing Eddie well enough to know that means he’s got nothing.

But there’s a thought niggling away at his brain: why not finish this thing the same way it had begun?

On his way out the door, he drops his latest letter to Chrissy into the trash bin and doesn’t look back. He’s got a new letter to write.

*** 

“You know this is juvenile, right?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy pulls the world atlas off the shelf with a roll of her eyes.

Her and Steve had fought about him picking up the letters alone, and Chrissy had won the way she always does when it comes to matters of his safety. He’s sulking in the parking lot now, waiting for her to retrieve it for him.

But, there’s no letter behind the cover. She flips through the whole book, then shakes it, pages flapping wildly, to see if anything falls out. Nothing does. No note, at least not yet.

Steve will be disappointed.

“They’re boys, of course it’s juvenile,” Chrissy says, turning away from the shelf to make pointed eye contact.

If boys are stupid, Jeff is the stupidest of them all. She thinks she can see a tinge of red to his dark cheeks that makes her smile. Chrissy turns away to pick up her book bag where she’d left it on the closet table.

“There’s no letter?” Jeff asks, sounding surprised.

Chrissy sighs, responding, “not yet. I’ll have to check back tomorrow.”

Steve will be crushed. He’s been weird about the letters since he’d begun writing the first drafts alone. Even with the minor polishing Chrissy puts on them after, they’re Steve’s words and feelings, no matter what Eddie thinks. And it shows in the way he takes them home and pours over them for days before slinking back to her with the original letter and his response, cheeks rosy as she fixes his spelling errors.

“Eddie’s planning on asking you out, you know,” Jeff says.

There’s a clatter behind one of the shelves, but Chrissy barely notices. “He said that?” she asks, turning sharply toward him, hand still clutching her book bag. 

Jeff nods, lips pursed. God, what are they going to do? This whole thing has spiraled so far out of either of their control. Chrissy had known when she offered that there was a chance Eddie would catch on—that he’d see her leaving a note, or catch her picking one up.

Better her than Steve, she’d thought then. No matter the awkward situation she’s found herself in, she still thinks that, even more so now. Better her than Steve. Steve, who’s proven himself kinder than she ever imagined, who would be run out of town, her ex-boyfriend at the head of the mob.

Chrissy can hear someone shuffling out of sight, feet shuffling on carpet far too close for comfort, so she steps closer to Jeff and lowers her voice. 

“Do you know when?” Chrissy asks, anxiety leaching into her. She needs to talk to Steve. Flirting with Eddie is one thing, but going on a date with him? Going out with him? That’s a whole other monster.

And then, of course, there’s Jeff.

“No, he hasn’t told me anything,” he replies, something small and hurt in his voice.

Chrissy’s never had a best friend, but Steve’s given her a little taste of it, and she’d be hurt if he didn’t tell her something like this.

“He’s probably embarrassed,” Chrissy says, aching to reach out and touch, but they’re in public, and Jason could be lurking behind any corner; the last thing she wants is to put a target on another person she cares about’s back. “You’re still his best friend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, but when she bumps their shoulders together gently, his lips quirk up.

He smiles over at her, bumping their shoulders together himself as he asks, “drive me home?” as if it isn’t a foregone conclusion. “And stay for dinner?”

That gives her pause. She can feel her cheeks flushing. Despite taking the next step in their relationship, Jeff’s never invited her in, not where his parents and brother are. They haven’t even really discussed what they are, not with this whole secret admirer thing hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

But she wants to. She wants to hold his hand in the halls, go to his house for study dates and dinner, kiss him somewhere where they don’t have to be furtive.

It’s all stolen moments with Jeff, kisses and conversations made in haste when all she wants to do is linger. So, she says, “yes, please,” and bounces out into the parking lot.

Steve isn’t there, and neither is his car.

“Maybe he went home?” Jeff asks, but he looks just as unsure as she feels.

“We’ll call him when we get to your house,” she asserts. She’s relieved when all he does is nod and follow her to her car. 

She’s got a best friend to find.

*** 

Robin knows something’s gone wrong as soon as she sees that dangerous gleam in Carver’s eyes. She knows whatever it is, it’s about to go catastrophically wrong when she follows his line of sight to where Eddie stands chatting away with one of his friends.

Still, she stands frozen, watching in breathless horror as Eddie waves goodbye to his friend, that familiar happy grin on his face as he slides into the driver’s seat of his van. Heavy music blares from the rolled-down window as his van sputters to noisy life.

When she turns back to get her eyes on Carver, he’s gone. She spots him only as Eddie peels out of the parking lot, Carver’s douchey car hot on his heels.

Robin turns and runs back into the school. She’d spotted another douchey car still loitering in the parking lot; Steve’s in here somewhere.

She checks the library first, knows from previous confessions that it’s where he and Chrissy work on most of the secret admirer notes. It’s deserted aside from a scattering of freshmen in one corner, and Nancy Wheeler arguing with the librarian about a text the library doesn’t seem to have.

She finds herself in the gym next, unsure if any sports are currently in season, but nice guy or not, Steve’s got jock sensibilities. He likes the gym. There’s a singular kid shooting baskets, but based on the rack of balls off to the side, there might have been more.

She goes to the boy’s locker room without thinking, pushing the swinging door open with sweaty palms and shaking arms.

Inside, she finds boys, all blessedly dressed.

“Ohhh!” they call juvenilely as she stands there, shocked as four pairs of eyes lock on her.

“Girl in the locker room!” someone calls; she’s pretty sure that’s Tommy Hagan’s smug voice, but she barely notices, too caught up in trying to find her boy in the mess of bodies.

“Steve,” Robin strangles out.

Her skin feels tacky with panic sweat, and in the past five minutes of searching, she’s run her fingers through her own hair enough times to leave it sticking on end. She’s sure she looks more like a troll doll than an enticing member of the opposite sex.

“He already left,” a guy she doesn’t recognize responds, eying her up and down. “But I’d be more than happy to help you out.”

As if his meaning wasn’t already clear, he bites his lip and swipes his lip like he’s wiping up drool as all the other boys start “ooooh”ing in unison again. Is that something they’re taught in elementary, or something?

She doesn’t wait for them to continue, just turns and runs out of the locker room, panic nipping at her heels.

She runs back out to the parking lot, out of places to check and desperate to not miss Steve leaving.

That’s where she finds him, leaning casually against his car like Eddie’s life isn’t at stake.

She runs so fast, limbs uncoordinated and breaths coming rapid, that she doesn’t stop in time and hit’s Steve straight in the chest. 

She bounces off, almost falling to the pavement until he grabs her shoulders and steadies her. Steve’s hands feel big on her shoulders, the pressure of his palms pushing her soul back into her body as she takes big, deep gulps.

“What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asks, already looking at her like she’s a wet puppy he’s ready to scoop into his arms and dry off with the shirt on his own back.

There’s too many witnesses, and too many damning words to be said, so all she whispers is, “you need to go, Steve.”

He wrinkles his nose, but something of the gravity of her words must sink in because he leans in without hesitation and meets her pitch as he asks, “where?”

Robin steps even closer, damn-near standing on Steve’s toes as she begins her stilted explanation.

“Jason Carver followed Eddie’s van in his car,” Robin starts, words blurring into each other in her haste to get them out. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but—“

She doesn’t get to finish; Steve bolts to the driver's side door and flings himself into his car without sparing her a second thought.  She can’t blame him.

Robin only hopes he makes it in time.

PART 12

[mullermilkshake]

Stretching limits.

Part 1 <- -> Part 2

You’re being chased, will you make it out unscathed?

Kento Nanami x Fem! Reader DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Non con,Knife play,Possessive,Forced,Vaginal fingering,Drug use/ drugging,Forced orgasm,Squirting,Mouth gag,Threat of violence,Stalking,Kidnapping,Nipple play,Hair pulling

<<< For more Nanami content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

You never should have skipped gym class. 

If you hadn’t, you might have carried on into your adulthood and gotten fitter. Much fitter so you wouldn’t try and keep your gasping lungs quiet as you ran through the abandoned building you had found yourself in. 

You would be as quiet as a mouse if you had just gone to the stupid gym.

The concrete flooring was the biggest conductor, alerting anything of your movements like it was taking revenge. What a bastard.

Who you were running form was more complicated than just a one word answer, a name or even a reason. It was horrific and it couldn’t just be explained away. No, it was an experience only others could understand when they lived it themselves, which was few and far between. 

Climbing up the stairs, bare and musty, the plastic on the ground floor was ripped away, it crinkled deadly fast, but no one spoke. You stopped, not daring to move in fear he would see you if you did. 

Slowly, you slipped your shoes off, the dust and grime already sticking to the soles of your socks. You weren’t sure if you should have kept your shoes, but there was no time, he would head up the stairs eventually so you chose to hide them. 

How did he even find you in the first place? You’d moved, changed numbers, gotten the police involved. Everything you could have done, you did. But it didn’t stop him from tracking you down like a deer in open season.

The cross hairs were right between your eyes. 

You carried on up the stairs, minding yourself past wet patches and puddles to keep an invisible path leading to you, stepping over the loose cables and forgotten equipment you couldn’t afford to trip over.

You searched and rummaged through a tool box, too inviting to leave unattended, perhaps you would find a wrench or some other weighted tool you could sling at his head. 

You knew he could dodge an attack like that, but it never swayed you to think otherwise, just in case there was a contributing factor. Maybe the sun would reverse, and rise instead of its steady drop in the sky, blind him for a second and a flying wrench would knock him over so you could get away. 

A nail gun? No the cable wasn’t nearly long enough, the big industrial ones never ran off of gas, it used the generator placed precariously in the middle of the floor over some hazardous sheets of metal over a large hole to the ground below. 

Right where you thought he was. 

Where the hell could you put your shoes? 

You cursed as quietly as possible, you were starting to panic. You finally hid them under a screwed up dust sheet you found and took the next set of stairs, crouching just in case. You hadn’t heard anything since the plastic sheet, for a foolish moment you almost talked yourself into believing that it was just the wind, and you were hiding for no reason but that hope shattered like glass.

“Darling.” His voice echoed and sounded so close. “I know you’re in here, there’s no point in hiding. It’s getting dark and I want to go home.”

You backed up slowly, never taking your eyes off of the stairwell behind you. He was baiting you, if you spoke now, he’d appear right in front of you like a ghost, a demon ready to swallow you whole. 

Part of you wanted to tease him, you’d escaped once, you’d escape again. Unless he chained you, that wasn’t the most comforting thought. You were still struggling with your breathing, you covered your mouth and took one deep breath.

Then, you snuck up, trying to at least get a floor difference between you. Think. Always be prepared, your father had said since you were little. How could you be prepared, if there was nothing to prepare with? 

Going up another flight, here was your golden ticket. 

Rope and sheets, crudely hung up as though they were drying, tents and discarded trolleys littered around on the floor. Plenty of places to hide and plenty of opportunities to slip past him. 

There were plenty of chances to get caught too. Wet and moulded newspapers, spilt candle wax and old blackened metal spoons, all hazards. 

Getting low, you moved around the sheets, looking for anything, something to inflict pain, even if it was as small as a pin, anything could hurt him. All you found was a ballpoint pen, you almost spoke out loud. 

But it was like he heard you anyway. “So you’re up here then. I guess I still know you very well, but if you think you can slip by me, you still have plenty to know about me, Darling.”

He could have been mere metres away from you by now and you wouldn’t know any difference. He was much more silent than he had even been before, had he taken his shoes off too? 

You froze in place and listened, clutching the pen as your lifeline, waited for a sign, a sound to tip you off. You could maybe slip into the neighbouring tent, but the zip, it would scream your location. You scanned the floor and found a pebble that could work as a deterrent. 

Getting down lower there was a shadow, faint, barely there but it was moving, that’s where he was. You threw it away from you, away from the stairwell and that was when you heard his footsteps. 

So you made a break for it, silently so, but still with a rocket up your ass. Freedom so close, so tasty you could smell it like a warm inviting home.  

There he was, in front of you, his back turned, but he was right fucking there, you almost blew it by your gasps you caught in time.

“If you show yourself now” He boomed, nothing like you had ever heard before, like he panicked. “I’ll forgive what you did back at the house and we can start over, if you don’t, there will be severe consequences.” 

His wrapped knife was on his back, smiling at you, you begged the inanimate object to keep quiet and it did. He still hadn’t seen you, so you kept going. But it was foolish of you to turn your gaze, even if it was just for a second. 

“There you are.” He was so quick, wrapping his fist around your hair and holding you there. He’d never done that before. “I thought I told you to show yourself when I asked.” He said your name with so much vitriol.

“Ken- ouch!”

He ripped you by your hair. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak. Though I do recall you leaving me tied to the bed and you walking out without an explanation. Care to elaborate on what you were thinking?”

You’d put tablets into his drink, tied him down for good measure, but you underestimated the amount he needed. 

“No explanation? I had one! You took me away from everything I knew and I told you over and over to let me go!” You pushed at him, swinging the ball point pen, hoping no matter how much you hurt, you hurt him too. 

He smacked it away. “Watch your manners!” It didn’t hurt him. He just pulled you again so that you could have sworn your hair was coming out in his hand.  

He let go, much to your relief, and took your arm. It didn’t hurt any less but you could manage it. He looked so angry, the shadows of his face were so sunken, like voids, black holes under his eyes that would swallow you up. He started dragging you down the stairs.

“Stop! I’m not going back!”

“Yes you are.”

Kento pushed you up against the wall on the stairwell and squeezed your shoulders in an act to scare you, it worked too. “You will go back. I don’t treat you unfairly do I? Do I beat you or force myself on you? No, I definitely do not, so don’t act like I do.”

“It’s not what you do though. It's about how you did it, all of it!” You tried to push him away, you really did.  

He never moved, pure muscle brick house. You were just lucky you got away the first time. If you went back with him, there was no way you were getting out another time, one big fat lie you told yourself. You were never escaping him again.

“You should have let me go! I have a new life now, a job, friends and you're fucking it all up again!”

Kento got close to you, towering over, he had the same cologne on he always wore, the undertones of fresh cotton lingered, along with the tickling of his breath. “I took you with me because you were the only thing that made me feel more than just a fucking worker ant. And I won’t let that go, do you understand me? I won't allow it.”

If someone had walked in on that moment, they would have assumed they'd walked into a sensual, steamy romance novel. The mist of your breaths in the ever growing darkness, heavy breathing, closeness, your noses almost touching. But it was more like hell. 

You barely spoke, “Just let me go.”

“I won’t do it.”

“I don’t want to be with you, I just want to live my life.” Those were famous last words.

“You can live your life with me. You won’t leave me. I’m not the villain here.” He growled your name. “I’m not like those other pigs, I take care of you, make you dinner, buy you clothes, provide all of these nice things, for what?”

“I didn’t ask for any of it!” 

He took your wrists in his hand and pinned them against the cold concrete, it scraped against you, uneven and unforgiving. “I can be like the others if that’s what you want- is it? Want me to be like the others?” He pulled his knife away from his back and pushed it slowly under your chin.

“What the fuck?!” 

“I don’t want to have to use this, so I need you to behave, can you do that?”

What? Was he just going to kill you if you didn’t do whatever he wanted? Had he fallen off that deep? You found yourself fighting for self preservation and nodded, but that didn’t stop your words.

You tried to calm your tone down to a respectable calmness. “I want you to leave me alone, Kento… Please, just go.”

His voice was a whisper. “Just once, Darling.” 

“What?” You hadn't properly heard him the first time, but your gut already did.

“Just once, then it’ll be alright.” 

He held your wrists there, keeping them tight as they were. His free hand pulled the knife back and slotted it back into its holster. “I’ll put it to your throat again if you try anything.”

��He wandered, touching you in places he never had before, caressing the side of your neck, down to your hip. It was incredibly suggestive and the penny finally dropped.

“No! Kento don’t, you're better than this, I don't want this.”

“You will.” He moved in, pressed his lips on yours, but you pulled away. “Once we've done this, you’ll see why you're so special, I’ll show you just how special you are.”

He cupped your breast, your t-shirt gathering around his fingertips, squeezing hurt, the chill in the building made your skin react. He kissed you again, but quickly moved to your neck, sucking and nipping like he was starved. Lifting your t-shirt, he pulled your bra down rough, exposing your breasts to the cold air. His grip never ceased, only clamped down more, your hands were going numb already. 

“You drive me crazy.” He took your nipple in his mouth, warming you up ever so slightly. “You don’t realise what kind of man you threaten to make me.” 

The tension changed on his lips, he was marking you, the side of your breast, the soft, sensitive skin there was close to going purple. 

“Kento, stop this now before it goes further. You’ll regret it, I know you will. Don’t be like the others.” Whoever these others were. 

He pulled away and admired your body, you couldn’t see the mark, but knew just as well it was there. “You’ve made me like this.” 

His hand moved down and slid across your stomach, going straight to your jeans, to your underwear. 

“Kento.” You said with more of a blunt tone. “Stop right this minute, you don’t know what you’re doing!” 

“My conscience has never been clearer.” 

Kento pulled his tie off in a fashion he always did, something he made look sensual though he never meant to. But you knew he knew all along by the look in his eyes, it came apart in his hands and he balled it up. 

“Open.” 

You went to shake your head in defiance, he couldn’t assume you would just agree, you remained still though, the thought of the clothed knife still lingered. He took your chin and forced your mouth open, shoving the fabric into your mouth, it instantly took the moisture away. 

The pop of your button came and the heated pads of his fingertips touched you where they had never before. 

“You lied to me.” He cooed your name. “You said you didn’t want this, but your body is telling a completely different story.”

You didn’t. It was your body's response to stimuli, nothing more, you knew it was a lie he kept telling himself to make this situation more consistent with his beliefs. He was going to regret this after his spurt of clarity. He barely touched and you flinched and he even made a noise so close to a laugh, it caught you off guard more than ever. Kento was always so serious.

“You’re starved, look at you. My bet is that you’ve never even squirted before, have you?” He rubbed you, playing with the slickness to improve his movements. 

You hadn’t, you didn’t know if you could, but it wasn’t something you tried. You tensed and pushed your thighs together, he wouldn’t find out, you wouldn’t let him. 

You moved your hips to the side, recalling every self defence video you ever watched, but it all went out the other ear. He shoved his knee between your legs, pinching the skin until he touched the wall. His fingers moved over slowly, slipping, squelching around you, like he knew clitoral stimulation was the way to make you come every time. 

“Do I need to get my knife out?”

Shit. You shook your head again.

“Good. Now relax.” Why did he sound so soothing? “If I curl my fingers like this,” You were wet enough, two fingers slid in, his long, slender fingers. “You’ll experience the best orgasm of your life.”

He still held you in place, so strong, never ceasing with the amount of raw strength,  just there like he was holding up a poster on the wall. The chill had ridden up under your shift, the faint, thin hairs on your back stood up straight, welcoming goosebumps to your predicament. 

His fingers pumped at a pace that was neither acceptable for a lover, nor a quick one night stand, it was neither here nor there like it had its own rhythm. Kento’s rhythm. You could feel every inch on him, turning, squelching, moving with purpose inside you. 

“Can you see now, how you make me feel? You’re sucking my fingers in because you’re so good. You’re so good for me.” 

You weren’t good for him, you didn’t even know him. You fought alongside that thought, even when you sensed an orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach. Using your tongue, you were able to push the tie free from your lips, mouth scraping at the barrel to collect as much saliva it could. 

“K-Kento.” 

“Hmm?”

“Stop this, I don’t want to be here.” You almost sounded defeated. 

He thrusted his fingers and even added another, stretching you out, like he could take more aggression out on you without getting violent. 

“You’re here. Right now. And nothing will change. You’re coming back with me as soon as you come all over my hand.” 

“But I-“

“But nothing. Come for me now.”

The rush accelerated, you tried to dismiss it, ignore it, because if you couldn’t feel it, then it wasn’t there. But it was, and it was fast approaching. His lips around your nipple made it go quicker, ramping up the heat to new levels, deeper, much more solid.

What the fuck is this? 

There we go.” He went faster, really moving his fingers. “I’d like you to come, pretty fucking hard now.”

It was coming, you were coming. 

What was this? Did you piss yourself? As you came, liquid shot out of you, the pressure of the orgasm beat against you as you squirmed and writhed under his touch, threatening to send you to the floor when your knees buckled. 

Wetness gushed and dripped, soaking into your jeans, all up Kento’s arm. The post orgasm clarity hit you like a ton of bricks, what a fucking idiot you were, it had gotten much darker and you still had to find a way back home without Kento finding you. There was no way you were going with him. 

He didn’t let go. 

“You’re a good girl.” He placed a soft peck on your cheek, almost cheekily to the point it stunned you. “I knew you’d listen.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you know that, right?”

He finally let go but kept your exit blocked “Did you think we were finished? Come on, let’s finish this at home, you’re filthy, look at your socks. I’ll run you a hot bath, okay?” 

“You aren’t listening to me!- get off!” The pain shot down your arm again as he took it again in his grasp. 

“We’re going home right now, and we’re finishing this. Don’t ever think of leaving again, who knows what’ll happen.”

And he just took you, kicking and screaming back to hell, like the devil he was. 

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Tell Me a Lie

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4617

Summary: Months of hell lead you to one moment- finding out your boyfriend is really alive. After figuring out where he’s been hiding, you concoct a plan- a very stupid, very dangerous plan- to draw him out. 

Notes: This is a terrible summary, but whatever. I finally started season three and I thought putting the reader in this situation would be really interesting. Obviously, his relationship with Elektra wasn’t the same, but the whole self-destructive Matthew is here and ready for angst. I’m imagining this kinda between the episodes where Matt goes to the hotel and the prison, but doesn’t really follow the plot of the episodes, just my own. This is also just a mess, but oh well. (And I know this is kind of what Bella does in New Moon, but I kind of dig it so I won’t apologize haha)

Warnings: Attempted assault, violence, abandonment, alcoholism literally looking for danger (obviously, spoilers for season three)

More Matt Imagines: HERE

-

It didn’t smell like him anymore. Such a weird, stupid complaint, but it made you sick to your stomach to breathe in the musty air of the apartment. 

You sat up, nursing your head in your hand, still pounding from the night before. Not that you’d slept, but hangovers still found a way to bite you in the ass. It was getting pathetic. Not that you cared. And not that your friends had actually used that word. 

‘Concerning’ was Foggy’s favorite. 

He could have his concern. 

You chased the numb. 

Anything was better than remembering he wasn’t here and the apartment you’d just started to share didn’t smell like him anymore. 

You got out of bed on shaking limbs, feeling the nausea roll over you. You swayed, wondering if you’d throw up again. You didn’t. 

You went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee to pull you out of the haze. Karen and Foggy were coming by today to talk about rent. You had to seem at least somewhat put together or they would try and talk you into getting help. Getting help meant moving on. Moving on meant giving up. Giving up meant lying to yourself. Admitting that he was dead and he wasn’t coming back. 

But Matt Murdock wasn’t dead. 

You could feel it. 

The pounding at the door felt like knocking on your skull. You groaned. 

Foggy stepped inside. 

“Morning,” he greeted with his usual chipper smile. 

You didn’t understand it. How he could still seem so happy after everything that happened. Then again, things went rather well for him after…

You shook the thoughts from your head. This wasn’t Foggy’s fault. 

“Hey,” you croaked. You took a long, burning drink from your caffeinated cup and let its effects wash over you. “I thought you two were coming together?” 

“Karen had… other stuff.” Foggy peaked around the corner, plastering a smile across his face. He figured he’d ease into the news. Especially because you looked- well- you looked the way you usually did these past few weeks. “But she says hi.” 

You nodded and took another drink. “Coffee?” 

“I already had some, thanks.” 

He stood silently. 

You stood silently. You raised a brow. “You can sit down, Foggy.” 

“Right. Thanks.” He nodded awkwardly and took a seat on the couch. So much for playing it cool. 

You set your mug to the side and leaned on the counter, fingers gripping the edge like a lifeline. 

“What happened, Foggy?” You stared at the back of his head and felt that familiar squeezing, wrenching breathlessness in your chest. The same feeling when Claire dragged you out of Midland Circle. The same feeling when you watched the building fall. The same feeling when Matt didn’t walk out. “Is it… is it Matt? Did they find him?” 

“No, it’s not about-” He blew out a sigh. “God, you haven’t seen the news then?” 

You hurried around to stand in front of him, panic still evident in your exhausted eyes.

Foggy had to look away. 

“Why, what’s on the news?” 

He gulped. “Maybe you should sit down.” 

“Just tell me what happened,” you scoffed. The sound came out as a nervous laugh, but on the inside, you were screaming. 

His blue eyes met yours. 

“Wilson Fisk made a deal with the feds. He’s out of prison.” 

You blinked. The crushing in your chest was replaced by your heart stopping. 

“What?” You choked out. Of all the things you were expected to hear, Fisk’s name wasn’t one of them. 

“Well, not out exactly. He’s apparently giving them information that’s made him a target in his old prison so they’re keeping him in a cushy penthouse for ‘safety purposes.’” He spat each word out. 

You put a hand on the back of the chair for support. “Fisk is free?” 

“Like I said, he isn’t free, but-”

You held up a hand to stop him.“Where’s this hotel?” 

-

The courtyard was absolute mayhem. Reporters scurried in every direction, each harassing a different agent for information they wouldn’t get. Matt dodged in between them. The noise made his still recovering head pound, but he could still pick out enough to get through. He ducked his head when he heard Karen’s voice, a small moment of panic almost making him turn around. 

He kept moving. 

The crowds didn’t surprise you. And neither did seeing the familiar blonde head weaving through the groups with determined strides. You hurried after her, almost bumping into the man in front of you, but he stepped out of the way just in time. 

“Karen!” You called. 

Gold strands whipped around. Her clear blue stare cut through the crowd. 

“Y/N?” She said, pushing through to you. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“So it’s true.” You tilted your head to the top of the building, its windows reflecting the sun in blinding brightness. “Wilson Fisk is up there?” 

She sighed. “Foggy told you then?” 

“If you’re planning on an ‘it isn’t safe for you to be here’ speech, save it,” you snapped. “I could tell you the same thing.” 

She bit her cheek, looked you over, and determined you looked sober enough. “Alright, follow me.” 

Matt couldn’t move. He tried to force his feet forward, but the heavy beating of his heart filled his ears and made it impossible to navigate the space around him. 

Your voice. Your scent. Even your heartbeat stood out amongst the dozens of people there. And for a moment, just a moment, he wanted to turn around. 

“Promise me we’ll go on that trip we talked about, yeah?” You laughed, though the air was salty with your tears and your voice shook. He kissed your lips for the last time.

“I promise.” 

But that wasn’t what haunted Matt for the last few months. Your sweet words of promise and hope stung, but they weren’t what kept him from going to you. Your screams were. 

“Let me go! Matt! No! Matty! I won’t leave him! Matt!” Even with countless floors between, Matt could hear your gut-wrenching screams as the others dragged you out of the building just before it blew. “Matt! Please! Matt!”

“Matt?” 

It took him a moment to realize that your voice now wasn’t from his memory. It was now.

You’d seen him. But judging by the direction, there was a chance you hadn’t seen his face. He could ignore you and chances were, you’d think you were crazy. Just another offense he’d committed against you. 

He wanted to turn around, to hold you and kiss your lips again and tell you he was okay and everything was going to be okay. That he was still your Matt. 

But the man you fell in love with was gone. He was buried under Midland Circle. 

Matt kept walking. 

-

You’d seen him. As crazy as it was, you knew it was him. He’d heard you. He must have because he stopped- just for a second, but he stopped. Karen may not have believed you, though you could tell she wanted to, but it didn’t matter. 

It was Matt. 

Somehow, it didn’t make any sense but it all made sense at the same time. He was going after Fisk. Of course, he was. Not even the grave couldn't stop your Matt from protecting his city. From protecting you. 

What you didn’t understand is why he kept walking. He acted like you weren’t there, but he of all people couldn’t have simply not noticed you. He’d left you there on purpose. 

He’d left you.

You paced the apartment with your hands raking through your hair with one question on your mind. 

Why? 

Sure, Matt would always use the excuse of protecting you before, but this time felt different. Had you done something? Had you not done enough at Midland Circle? What happened to him? 

Was it your fault?

The explosion was your idea and it buried him. Did he blame you as much as you blamed yourself?

Your feet halted in front of the closet door. Behind the door was a box. Inside the box was the emptiness that haunted your every waking moment for the past you didn’t even know how many days anymore. Your fingers clutched at the neck of the bottle on the table. The drink burned. 

None of it mattered. ‘Why’ didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was out there and he left you and as the burn raced down your throat you knew what you needed to do. 

And you knew where he might be.

-

The gentleness of your touch eased the sting of the disinfectant as you dabbed it on his wounds. It wasn’t the first night he’d come back cut and beaten, but you didn’t let your worry deter your movements. He came back. That’s what mattered. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your voice as soft as your motions. You touched a particularly sore spot and he winced. As you went to draw your hand away, he caught it in his, fingers grasping at yours, still clenched around the towel. 

“Can we just… sit for a while?” He breathed. 

You nodded. He wiped away any blood remaining on his skin and set the towel aside. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you to his chest. He listened to your heartbeat. You listened to his. 

Matt remembered the woman he’d come across earlier that night. Two men had jumped her. They were going to take what they wanted and leave her for dead. He’d taken his time beating them senseless while she got away. But her screams still echoed through his head. 

He tensed beneath you and you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing.”

You sat up. “Matt.” 

“It’s nothing,” he managed a laugh. “Really. Just come here.” He coaxed you back to him, but the tension was still there. He breathed in your presence and let out a low sigh. His arms tightened around you. “I’d never let anything happen to you.” His tone was different. Almost afraid. 

You drew lines on his chest. “I know.” 

“And I’d never hurt you, or at least mean to, anyway, but I know that I have and I’m-”

“Matty.” You crawled up so you were beside him, taking his face in your hands. “All I ask is that you come home at the end of the night.” You kissed his cheek. “In one piece, preferably.” He chuckled and you pressed your lips to his. You whispered in between kisses. “Just come home.” 

-

He talked about this place sometimes. Not often. Getting Matt to open up about his childhood was like pulling teeth, but in those last few months together, he’d started to trust you enough to let you in. 

This felt like a betrayal of that. Using your knowledge to expose him. To confront him for leaving you behind. A sober you might have thought of that. But the whiskey-fueled your anger, the rum your despair, and everything else blocked out any logical thought. 

What was the word Foggy used? 

Right. 

Concerning.

“Alright, Matthew,” you called out. Your voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper as you tried to hold back sobs. The wind stung the streaks of tears on your cheeks, but the more you tried to wipe them away, the more they fell. You took a drink. “This is it. Now or never.” 

You waited. You gave him a chance to stop you. 

“You always said you would never let anything happen to me, right? That you’d never hurt me.” You held your arms out at your sides. “Well, here we are, you goddamn liar!” Your voice echoed through the street. He would have been able to hear you for blocks, but standing just outside his damn door had to be good enough. “Come out, Matt!”

“Dude, check out this crazy bitch,” a voice said from behind you. 

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed the nervous bile in your throat. This was part of the plan. Sure, you thought you’d have to do a little more seeking, but this worked even better. There was only one way your tangled-up mind could figure that would get Daredevil to come out to play. You just hoped he would bring your Matt with him. 

You turned around. Two men stood in front of you, both of them with eyes scanning your body and lips forming smirks. Oh yeah. They were perfect. 

“What did you just say to me?” You tried to make your voice sound more confident than you actually felt. You wanted their anger, not their pity. 

“Hey, no need to be like that, I was just kidding,” the taller one said, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “I was just about to tell my buddy that you look a little lost.”

“Yeah, maybe she could use our help,” his friend agreed. “Do you want our help?” From the sound of his tone ‘help’ was the last thing he was offering. 

They both stepped towards you. 

And then a thought broke through your intoxicated, reckless mind. 

What if Matt really was dead?

It made you freeze. It almost made you sober. 

What if you just saw some guy that looked like him? What if you’d imagined it all together? What if all this time you’d been hoping- hell, even praying- that he would come back and he was still down there, at the bottom of Midland Circle, crushed and bloody and… gone? 

The men took another step forward, looking equally confused as they were intrigued. 

What if there was no one around to save you?

You held your head high. 

You hoped they’d kill you.

Either way, at least you would know. 

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The tall one asked. Sweetheart. The word stung. It belonged to someone else. 

You didn’t say anything and just started swinging. Fist to teeth, then foot against knee, you actually managed to do some damage before the friend grabbed your arms from behind. You stomped on his foot as hard as you could. Just because this was part of your plan didn’t mean you were going to make it easy for them. It had to at least look like you tried. For Foggy and Karen. 

The thought of the two of them threw you off. It made you blink, which allowed the lead prick to get a hold of your hair and use it to throw you to the ground. 

“You wanna play it that way, fine,” he growled. 

“Hair pulling?” You sneered up at him. “What, did your little sister teach you that move?” 

“Mouthy little bitch.” He brought his heel down on your head. Hard. It probably should have knocked you out, but you could still see through blurred vision with darkness around the edges. They started to walk away. 

“W-wait,” you said. The feet at the edge of your vision stopped. “Wait, come here.” You beckoned him to you with your hand. He crouched down. “Is that all you’ve got, pussy?” 

The hit came faster than you prepared for, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He kicked. And kicked. And kicked. Blood filled your mouth. You thought you heard a knife click open, but then everything went silent. 

And there was only one pair of feet.

A grunt. A thud. A body hitting the pavement. 

“What the…” Your main assailant gasped.  

You blinked, trying to see what was going on.

“Hey, man, she started it, I swear.” Another grunt. Another thud. Another body hit the pavement. 

A masked face appeared over yours.  

You smiled through the pain. “I knew it.” 

He took off the black band, revealing his panicked face. It was the last thing you saw before the darkness in your head took over. 

-

Matt carried you downstairs, every sense tuned into the creaking of your broken ribs, the smell of the blood leaking from your lips, your head, your nose. He focused on the sound of your heart. It was still beating. 

It was still beating.

“Sister!” He called. 

Sister Maggie, in all her wise-cracking wisdom, had known to be there. Matt didn’t know how, but not for the first time he was grateful for her presence. She helped without him having to ask. 

“Is she breathing?” She asked. 

“Barely. Her ribs are broken. I-I can’t tell how hard she hit her head.” He laid you on the bed, still listening to the semi-steady thump thump, thump thump. 

“Who is she?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead, his hands roamed your features, the gentle curve of your cheek now split with a bleeding gash. He ran a finger over your lips. As if to confirm it was really you. He had to feel, had to know. Know that this was his fault. Your words echoed in his head. 

You’d never hurt me.

You goddamn liar. 

You were here for him. The reckoning for his sins these past weeks. 

“Matthew, who is she?” Margaret pressed again. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “Just help her.” Matt’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Please.”

Sister Maggie frowned, fingers clenched around the cloth she’d used to clean some of the blood. “You need to take her to a hospital.”

“Don’t.” Your voice rasped between them. “Don’t you dare.” You started to sit up, using shaking arms to push yourself upright even as your insides felt like they wanted to rip out of you just from breathing. 

“Stay down,” Matt said. He sat on the edge of the bed, easing you back to a lying position. “Try not to move.”

“I knew it.” 

“Y/N-”

“I fucking knew it.” You pushed back. He was stronger. Matt kept you down as gently as he could. 

“Sister, will you give us a minute?”

You turned to the woman you hadn’t noticed. She seemed glad to leave. 

Matt didn’t face you. He stood up from the bed and paced along the concrete floor, keeping a distance away that made you want to scream. You wanted to touch him. To make sure he was really there. But he hovered away from you like a ghost. 

“Those guys really did a number, huh?” You managed to sit up and this time, he didn’t stop you. Your head, however, wanted to bash itself in. Between the trauma and the liquor, you weren’t sure which made you more nauseous. “But the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is always around to save the day.”

“You did it on purpose,” Matt said, shoulders stiff. “You provoked them. They could have killed you and you-” He sucked in a breath. “Why?”

“I’m an adrenaline junkie. I drink, I look for trouble. It’s becoming quite the hobby.” You were lying. You knew he could tell. 

He stood still, head tilting slightly. “You knew I’d come.” 

“Ding ding ding.” You fell back on the bed and let the ceiling spin. 

Matt couldn’t speak. The panic he’d felt was slowly being engulfed by anger, though it was hard to tell at who. You were looking for a fight, that much he gathered was true. You were drunk, though the fight sobered you up some. Everything he’d ever told you, everything he’d done to try and keep you safe, would have been thrown away tonight. You would have let those men kill you if it meant he wasn’t there. 

And it was all his fault. 

He did the one thing he promised he wouldn't. He left. You’d never judged him, never questioned his need to put on the suit. All you ever asked was that he come back to you and this time, he didn’t. By choice, he didn’t. Just like everyone in both of your pasts, he abandoned you. This was your choice to get back at him, whether or not you believed he was alive. 

“I saw you,” you said quietly. “Today, at the hotel. I knew it was you.” The sure, stubbornness in your voice was gone, replaced by a cracking, wrenching sadness. “I had to know.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He just reached for the lamp and switched off the light. 

“Get some rest.” 

When you woke up, you were in the hospital, bandages on your cuts, and more hungover than you’d felt in a long time. 

Matt was gone. 

-

They didn’t discharge you, but you left anyway. If they looked too closely at your emergency contacts, they’d find someone who was supposed to be dead and Karen. The latter was not someone you wanted to face right now. 

So, with a couple of busted ribs and one hell of a concussion, you went back to the apartment. His apartment. The place where he first kissed you, first touched you, first-

Now it was just yours. He didn’t want it anymore. 

You half debated going back to the church and demanding he talk to you. You’d like to see the brilliant lawyer try to talk his way out of this one. But in the end, everything hurt too much to face him. You wanted a drink. 

Unlocking the door, the click hit your chest harder than any of that creep’s kicks. 

You knew. 

You may not have had his abilities, but you knew. 

Walking in, you didn’t dare turn around and look at the stairs. You didn’t have to. 

“I’m all better now if that’s what you wanted to see,” you said. You threw your jacket on the floor and kicked off your boots. 

Matt didn’t move from his place by the roof entrance. He stood over you like a judgemental god and you wanted to hit him for it. You might have if he didn’t already look like hell itself spat him back out. 

“You wanted them to kill you,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Not an accusation. An acknowledgment. 

“I wasn’t going to stop them if they tried.” You shrugged. You moved to the kitchen. “Beer?” 

“You shouldn’t drink with the amount of pain medication they gave you.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Like he was just your boyfriend and looking out for you. But he wasn’t and you didn’t know what he was to you anymore. 

“Yeah, well, it’s going to wear off at some point so I might as well get ahead of the curve here.” 

“Y/N-” He stepped. The steps creaked. 

“Don’t.” You held up a hand. “Don’t come anywhere near me, Matt Murdock.” 

He flinched at the sound of his name like it was a blade you held against his throat. 

“Stay where you are,” you said and twisted off the bottle top, grasping so hard the rigid edge dug into your palm. “Shit.” It sliced your skin and your blood dripped onto the wooden floor. 

You didn’t watch him descend the stairs or cross the space between you. You closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see his hand grab yours, wrapping the small but deep cut with gauze he carried with him. You yanked away the moment his hold lightened. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Y/N-” He said again, your name hurting more than his own. 

“You’re dead!” Your scream filled the apartment. You knew it filled his head. Everything always did. Good. Let it. 

Matt didn’t step away, but he did let his hand fall back to his side. 

“I know.” 

You tried your best not to shake, not to cry and show the weakness you’d felt for the last weeks. Then again, you wanted him to know. You wanted him to feel everything you’d felt. 

“Tell me you were trapped somewhere. Tell me you tried everything you could to get back to us and you just broke free,” you pleaded. “Tell me a lie, Matt, because I’d rather hear that than whatever bullshit reason you can give me.”

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak, reading his face before he could say it. 

“I swear, if you say something about ‘protecting me’, then you should have just left me to those creeps because that would have been better than listening to that broken record again.” You turned your back and for that second, you let yourself crumple, but only for a second and completely silent. 

“It wasn’t about you.” 

You straightened up again. “It never was.” 

Now, with you facing away, it was his turn to break. Matt sucked in a sharp breath to keep himself together as you continued. 

“It was always about you, Matt. About your insisted martyrdom.” You didn’t try to stop your tears now, tasting their salt as they flowed past your lips. “Your city. The rest of us just live here, right?” You turned around, stepping towards him. “But at least we live.” With your hands on his chest, you pushed him back. “Which is a hell of a lot harder than hiding.” 

You pushed again and again and again and he just stood there and took it. Your flattened hands turned to fists, hitting harder and harder until you were sure you’d leave bruises on his chest. 

It was when you collapsed that he finally moved, throwing his arms around you before you could hit the floor, your legs giving out under the weight of your utter, complete agony. Your sobs choked you and rattled through Matt like gunfire. You kept fighting him, even as he held you, the pain of your injuries was nothing compared to what you felt in your soul. Like the shattered pieces were being forced back together, but didn’t fit anymore. 

Matt wanted to make it stop. He wanted more than anything to take all of the pain away and tell you it was going to be okay. He was here now. But he was the cause of it all and there was nothing he could do to change it. 

And while there was still a dark part of him that wanted to leave you here, to shield you from him entirely, Matt knew if he tried to walk away now, he wouldn't survive it. Daredevil or Matt Murdock, it didn’t matter. He was yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. 

“You were dead,” you said again, this time with broken words blending together with your sobs. “I tried to go back. I tried to get into Midland Circle, but they dragged me out. I tried, Matt, I-”

He cut you off with a kiss on the forehead and held you closer. 

“I know.” He could still hear your screams, your pleas to give up your life to try and save him. He’d thrown it away, everything you’d tried to make of him. Of the two of you, together. 

You’ll get her killed too. Fisk’s voice in his head pierced his skull like a blade. I will crush her. I’ll tear her apart piece by piece, Matthew, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. 

“She’ll put up a hell of a fight first,” Matt muttered. 

“What?” You pulled back to look up at him. 

He shook his head and held you closer still until the lines between you blurred together. 

“Nothing.” 

Even though every part of him now screamed to get away, he couldn’t move. Even as you knelt in front of him, pulling his lips down to yours, he didn’t fight it. A shock worse than any punch went through his system the moment you kissed him. Like every nerve was finally waking up. 

Maybe he wasn’t dead after all. 

Matt cupped your cheek with one hand and slipped the other to the small of your back, urging you to stand and walk with him to the bed neither of you had slept in in weeks. 

He’d decide in the morning.

[classyhoeeee]

'Distraction': Rafe Cameron 18+

Part 1 - Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo are on a mission to steal something from figure 8 with the reader. Something that Rafe Cameron, Topper or even Kelce wouldn’t let them get away with. The thing is, Rafe was their biggest threat. The pogue girls had an idea that involves the reader. They want her to distract him with a sexy truck wash. Thing is…the two of them have unfinished business.

pairing - Rafe Cameron x f!reader tags - enemies to lovers relationship, fingering, degradation, spit, overstimulation, a little rough, truck sex, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, knifeplay, dark!rafe.

a/n - just a warning…this one is VERY freaky. Hehe. It’s my favorite one that I’ve written so far. enjoy.

……………………………………………………………………………..……

The Distraction

“Y’all are crazy as hell.”

The words left your mouth before you could even think them through, your voice loud enough to make Cleo snort and Sarah wince. Kiara, however, didn’t flinch. She simply leaned back against the rusted van, arms crossed, watching you with an infuriating calmness.

“It’s not that crazy, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Kie! It’s Rafe Cameron. I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I think y’all forgot what he’s capable of. He literally swore he was gonna kill me.”

Cleo raised her eyebrows. “And yet, you’re still standing. Ain’t no bullets flying, is there?”

“That’s not the point,” you shot back, glaring. “The man is unhinged. He hasn’t forgotten what I did. I pushed his ass overboard. I stole his boat. His boat, Kie.”

“Exactly,” Sarah said, breaking her silence. “And yet, you’re the only one he hasn’t laid a hand on. Don’t you think that’s���weird? I’m his sister and he’s even tried to kill me.”

“It’s not weird. It’s Rafe. He probably thinks it’s more satisfying to scare the shit out of me from afar than to actually follow through.”

Sarah, Cleo, and Kiara shared a look, one of those silent girl-code moments you couldn’t quite decipher. It pissed you off immediately.

“What?”

“Listen,” Kiara started, holding up her hands, “we need this. You know we do. That safe in Ward Cameron’s study? It has everything we need to help the guys. But getting into Figure 8 without Rafe breathing down our necks? It’s impossible. He’s always watching, Y/N. And we know he’s gonna be there today.”

“And you think throwing me at him is gonna fix that shit?”

“Distract him,” Cleo corrected with a sly smile. “You know you can.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, the very thought making your skin prickle. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not gonna—”

“Wash his truck,” Sarah interrupted.

The words hit you like a slap to the face. “What?”

Kiara’s smile was almost apologetic. Almost. “It’s simple. He loves that stupid truck. You’ll get his attention in like…two seconds. Enough time for us to get in, grab the shit we need, and get out.”

“You want me to give Rafe Cameron a sexy car wash? Are y’all out of your damn minds?”

Cleo shrugged. “You look good. He’s obsessed with you. We’re just being resourceful.”

You pointed a finger at her, already fuming. “He’s not obsessed with me. He’s obsessed with revenge. There’s a difference.”

Sarah’s voice dropped, soft and coaxing. “Y/N, you’re the only one who can do this. If we screw this up, the guys are screwed. Please.”

You stared at her, at the pleading look in her eyes, and felt the weight of her words settle on your shoulders. You had come this far with them—you’d do anything to protect your own. That was the Pogue way.

Even if it meant putting yourself in front of the devil himself.

“Fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “But if Rafe kills me, I’m haunting y’all for the rest of your lives.”

Cleo grinned, clapping her hands together. “Deal.”

———

The truck sat under the sun like a black mirror, drops of water clinging to its surface and glinting in the light. You hated how it looked—pristine, perfect, expensive. Just like him.

And, like clockwork, Rafe Cameron appeared, materializing out of thin air like a goddamn nightmare.

He leaned against the porch railing, beer in hand, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The buzzed hair only made him look sharper, those pale blue eyes locking onto you like you were the only thing worth seeing. He looked you over—slowly. Starting at the mess of suds sliding down your brown arms, down to the soaked hem of your white top where your leopard print bra peeked through. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of your thighs as you shifted in your tiny shorts, then flicked back up to your face.

Rafe smirked, slow and wolfish, before taking a long sip of his beer.

You’d already fucked up, and you hadn’t said a word.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” His voice was smooth and lazy, but the edge beneath it cut deep.

You turned to look at him, sponge still dripping in your hand. Despite the racing in your chest, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, tilting your chin up defiantly. “Rafe… I—”

“You what?” he interrupted, his smirk twitching wider. He stepped off the porch, the gravel crunching under his boots as he approached. He moved slow—deliberate—as though giving you the chance to run just so he could chase.

You glanced at the truck for a split second, calculating the space. Too far.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you said softly, surprising yourself with how steady your voice came out. “For everything.”

Rafe blinked. You saw it—the flicker of something in his expression as he stopped a few feet away. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure whether to believe you, his tongue running over the corner of his mouth. “Sorry?” he echoed, voice dripping with mockery.

You nodded, stepping just slightly closer, letting the sponge drop to the gravel. Your hand brushed your collarbone as you shifted, drawing attention to the trail of soap suds sliding down your skin. His eyes followed, just as you knew they would.

“I mean it,” you said softly, almost seductively, tilting your head just enough to let the sunlight catch the line of your jaw. “I shouldn’t have pushed you off the boat. I panicked.”

Rafe’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t say anything, his chest rising and falling steadily.

You kept going, forcing the words out like silk. “I shouldn’t have betrayed you. You didn’t deserve that.”

For a second—just a second—you saw his expression soften. His eyes dropped to your lips, his grip on the beer loosening slightly. He looked almost… hesitant. Like he wanted to believe you.

And then he laughed.

It was loud and sharp, the sound scraping down your spine like nails on a chalkboard. “You’re good, you know that?” Rafe said, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll give you that. You almost had me there.”

Your stomach dropped.

His eyes snapped back to yours, the smirk curling his lips twisting into something cruel. “You really think you can stand there, play the little innocent act, and I’m just gonna forget what you did?”

“Rafe, please—”

He moved fast, rounding the truck before you could react. You bolted around the other side, keeping the truck between you.

“Oh, this is cute,” Rafe taunted, his voice ringing out as you circled. “What’s the plan now, huh? Gonna fucking run? Where do you think you’re gonna go, Y/N? Huh?”

You didn’t answer. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you circled, your movements mirroring his as he prowled like a fucking lion.

“Stop running,” Rafe barked suddenly, slamming his palm against the hood of the truck. The sound made you jump. “You think I’m just gonna let you get away again? Like hell I will.”

He moved left—you darted right. It didn’t matter. You were too slow, and he was too fast. Rafe rounded the truck, and you ran.

You barely made it two steps before he caught you.

“Let me go!” you shrieked as his hand snatched your arm, yanking you back hard enough to send you stumbling. “You motherfucker!”

He didn’t. Rafe pinned you to the truck in one smooth motion, his body towering over yours. The heat of him, the size of him, made you feel small—helpless in a way that set your skin on fire.

Rafe’s face hovered inches from yours, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he murmured darkly. “You scared?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Rafe leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You should be.”

Your voice came out shaky. “Rafe—please—”

Rafe pulled back just slightly, and you saw it. The flash of silver in his hand. Your breath hitched.

The knife.

He twirled it between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on your face as you froze. “What was it you said last time?” he mused, dragging the blade lightly down your arm—not enough to cut, but enough to make you shiver. “I’m doing this for my friends, right?”

You whimpered softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Rafe’s lips twitched, his eyes lighting up like you’d just given him the best gift in the world. “Say it again,” he whispered, pressing the flat edge of the knife against your throat—just enough to make your knees buckle. “That’s why you were stupid enough to come back to me, right? Those fucking pogues set you up?”

“Rafe,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes as you gripped his wrist. “Please…just let me go.”

The tears slipped down your cheeks, and you felt his chest rise sharply against yours.

“Look at you,” Rafe muttered, his voice low and almost… awed. “Such a pretty bitch when you cry.”

You shuddered, a broken sob leaving your lips as his knife traced the dip of your collarbone.

“Rafe…”

“Shh,” he murmured, the sound almost tender. “You don’t wanna say something you’ll regret.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, your breath coming in shaky gasps as tears streamed down your face. “What… do you want from me?”

Rafe’s smile widened, something twisted and triumphant lighting up his face. “What I want? You’re coming with me.”

You froze, his words hitting you like ice. “What?”

Rafe stepped back just enough to grab your wrist, tugging you forward as you stumbled to keep up. “You really think I’m letting you run back to your little Pogue friends? Nah. You’re done, Y/N. We have unfinished business.”

“Rafe—no the hell I’m not. What are yo-”

“Save it,” he snapped, dragging you toward his truck as you tried to fight him off. “You brought this on yourself. You wanted my attention, right? Well, you’ve got it.”

You thrashed against his grip, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, please—let me go! I’ll leave! I won’t come back!”

Rafe shoved you against the passenger door, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You’re not leaving, Y/N. You should’ve stayed off figure 8, Pogue.”

The finality in his tone made your stomach drop, and for the first time, you realized the truth.

You weren’t getting out of this.

Not this time.

———

The air inside the truck was suffocating-thick with sweat and heat and the overwhelming scent of him. Your back arched against the worn leather of the backseat, your hands clawing uselessly at his shoulders as Rafe moved above you, relentless as he fucked the shit out of you.

Every sound you made-every gasp, every choked-back moan-felt like a betrayal. You hated yourself for it. For the way your body responded to him despite everything.

Despite the smirk that stretched across his face, the glint in his pale blue eyes that said he'd won.

"Look at you," Rafe muttered darkly, his voice heavy with satisfaction. His hand slid down to your thigh, his grip rough, forcing your legs wider as he pressed you deeper into the seat. "Acting like you hate this…like you hate my dick."

"I do," you gasped, even as your voice cracked, even as your body said otherwise.

Rafe's laugh was low, cruel, vibrating through you as he ducked his head to press his pink lips against your neck. His teeth scraped against your brown skin, making you shudder, and when he pulled back, his expression was all sharp lines and wicked intent.

"You can lie to yourself, Y/N," he said, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. "But you don't get to lie to me."

You glared at him, your chest heaving, your nails digging into his arms. "Fuck you."

Rafe grinned, leaning closer until his lips brushed your ear. "You are."

You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but the words turned into a sharp cry as Rafe's hand shot up, tangling in your hair. He yanked your head back, not enough to hurt— but enough to remind you of exactly who was in control as he drove himself deeper and deeper into you.

"Say something now," Rafe growled, his voice low and smug as he pushed himself deeper.

"Come on, sweetheart. I thought you had something to say?"

Your nails clawed uselessly at his arms, your body arching against the seat as he hit something deep inside you that made your thoughts scatter. Your jaw clenched, your breaths coming in sharp gasps as you fought to hold onto your anger, your defiance, anything to ground you.

But all you could focus on was him.

The way he filled you-so deep it felt like he was tearing you apart and putting you back together all at once. The way his body towered over yours, his pale skin pressed against the deep brown of your thighs, the contrast making everything feel more raw, more intense.

His dick is too damn big.

The thought came unbidden, unrelenting as your body clenched around him, your mind spinning from the overwhelming pressure and stretch. How the hell is this motherfucker even fitting?

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, your nails biting harder into his skin as you tried to stop the heat pooling in your stomach from taking over.

"What's that?" Rafe taunted, his grin widening as he rolled his hips, making you gasp. "Didn't quite catch that, baby. You moaning for me already?"

"Shut the hell up," you hissed, though your voice cracked as the pleasure twisted tighter.

Rafe laughed, his grip tightening in your black hair as he tugged your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Nah, I don't think I will. Not when you're squeezing me like that. You like it, don't you? Feel how deep I am?"

You glared at him, fresh tears pricking your eyes as your lip trembled. "You're a piece of shit. I hate your ass."

Rafe's smirk widened, his teeth flashing like a predator's as his hips snapped forward, deliberate and rough. "Hate me all you want," he sneered, his voice dripping with cruelty.

"Doesn't change the fact that you're fucking taking it like a good little Pogue slut."

"You're disgusting," you snapped, though your voice wavered, your breath hitching with every thrust.

"Yeah? And you're pathetic," he shot back, his tone cruel as his hand slid down to your waist, gripping tight enough to bruise. "Talking all this shit while you're pushing back on me like you're fucking starving for it."

Your stomach churned, humiliation and heat flooding your chest as your body betrayed you again. Your hips shifted, just slightly, the pressure too much to fight.

"There it is," Rafe muttered, his eyes darkening as he felt you give in. His grip tightened, guiding you against him as his smirk turned wicked. "Look at that recoil. God…you fucking bitch, shit." He gritted the last part and gives your ass a hard slap, making you whimper.

His hand moved to your thigh, pulling your legs wider as he forced you to meet his rhythm. "Say you hate me again," he growled, leaning closer, his nose brushing yours. "Say it while you're bouncing on my dick like you don't want me to stop."

Your lips trembled, every sharp, degrading word tearing at what little resolve you had left. You hated him. You hated the way he owned you, the way his grip burned against your dark skin.

"Fucking say it," Rafe demanded, his voice a growl as his grip on your waist tightened, forcing you to push back against him. "Say you hate me while you're begging me to keep going."

Your acrylic nails dug into his arms, fresh tears streaming as you tried to stifle the sob threatening to escape. "I-I hate you."

Rafe chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "Yeah, well, your pussy doesn't." He pulled back just enough to watch your face, his smirk deepening as you arched beneath him. "Look at you. Can't even stop yourself from pushing back. Fucking whore."

You bit down on your lip, the humiliation twisting with the heat building in your stomach. You hated him. You hated yourself.

But you couldn't stop.

Rafe's hand slid to your jaw, forcing your tear-streaked face up to meet his. "There it is," he muttered, his tone softer but no less cruel. "Good fucking Pogue. Taking me just like you're supposed to."

And as you finally broke beneath him, your body trembling and tears spilling freely, Rafe's smirk widened, victorious and unrelenting.

"Speak ," Rafe hissed, his face inches from yours. "Say you want me."

You shook your head weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to fight him, to fight yourself. "I-I don't..."

"Bullshit."

His grip on your hair tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut, your body betraying you all over again. You hated him-hated his smug face, his cruel words, the way he made you feel like you were his plaything. But the worst part?

You didn't hate this. As much as you said you did.

"Say it," Rafe growled, his voice dropping lower. "Say you want me, or I'll stop."

You bit down on your lip so hard it hurt, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He wouldn't let you get away with silence-he never did.

"Rafe-"

"Say it," he repeated, pulling just hard enough on your hair to send a shiver down your spine. "Be a good girl for once."

Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "I... I want you."

"What was that?" Rafe taunted, tilting his head as if he hadn't heard you. "Say it again. Louder."

You opened your eyes, glaring up at him through the tears you refused to let fall. "I want you."

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but Rafe's reaction was immediate. His grin stretched wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand loosened in your hair, smoothing down to rest at your jaw. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, almost gentle.

"That's what I thought," he muttered, his voice thick with triumph. "Took you long enough."

You turned your head away, biting back the sob that threatened to break free.

Rafe didn't let you escape. He grabbed your chin again, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in close. "You're mine now, Y/N. You get that, right?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Rafe smirked, his eyes dragging slowly over your tear-streaked face, down to the dark skin of your chest where his touch still lingered. "I fucking hate Pogues," he murmured, almost to himself. "But you? You're my exception."

And the way he said it-soft and dangerous, like a promise you'd never escape-made your stomach twist in something you couldn’t name.

You hated him.

And you hated yourself even more.

——

The backseat of Rafe's truck was a battlefield-your resolve crumbling and Rafe's triumph curling around you like smoke, choking out every last ounce of resistance.

Your body was a mess of heat and sweat, pinned under the weight of him, his grip unrelenting as he dragged you further under.

"Don't stop now, sweetheart," Rafe murmured, his voice a gravelly mix of amusement and cruelty. His lips grazed your ear, every word deliberate, every breath making you shiver. "You've come this far. You're not tapping out on me yet, are you?"

You bit your lip, trying to ignore him, to ignore the way your body betrayed you with every movement, every burning pulse of pleasure he forced out of you.

Rafe noticed. Of course he did.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," he taunted, his tone mocking as his hand slid up your thigh.

"That's cute. What? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just embarrassed? Bet your little Pogue friends wouldn't believe it if they saw you right now-dripping all over my dick, letting me do whatever I want to this pretty little pussy."

"Shut up," you whispered, a broken edge to your voice, hating the way his words twisted something sharp and hot in your chest.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. "Nah, I don't think I will. Not until you say it. Admit how good I'm making you feel. Tell me how much you like this."

You shook your head weakly, tears stinging your eyes as you tried to turn away. "I don't _"

The shrill ring of your phone cut you off.

You froze, the sound slicing through the thick air like a warning shot. Rafe didn't stop. If anything, his grip on you tightened, his smirk widening as his gaze flicked to your bag. He reached over, grabbing the phone with deliberate ease before holding it up to your face.

Kiara.

"Look who it is," Rafe drawled, his grin dark and knowing. "Your little rescue team, huh? Probably wondering where you're at. Should I tell her?"

"Rafe-please, don't," you choked out, panic creeping into your voice as you tried to grab the phone.

He yanked it out of reach, his other hand tugging your head back to force you to look at him. His face was too close, his blue eyes gleaming with something cruel and unhinged.

"You wanna beg now, huh?" he muttered, pressing the phone against your cheek, his thumb swiping over the screen. "Go on. Answer it. Tell her how you're too busy getting fucked to come back."

Your stomach dropped. "I can't-"

Rafe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Answer.The.Fucking.Phone. NOW."

The phone clicked, and Kiara's voice rang out loud and clear. "Y/N? What the hell is taking so long? Where are you?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to steady your voice. "Kie... I-I'm fine."

"Fine? You don't sound fine. Where are you? Did something happen?"

Your lips trembled as you felt Rafe move against you, his hand sliding back to your thigh, his grip firm and possessive. He pressed a kiss to your temple, mockingly soft, before murmuring into your ear, "Say it, or I'll say it for you."

"I'm fine," you said quickly, your voice breaking as you forced the words out. "I got—distracted. I'll catch up with you later."

"Distracted? What are you talking about? You don't sound-"

"I gotta go," you cut her off, your voice shaking as Rafe pulled the phone from your ear.

The line went dead.

You let out a shaky breath, your whole body trembling as you looked up at Rafe. His expression was pure smug satisfaction, his lips pulling into that wicked smirk that made your chest tighten.

"See?" he muttered, tossing the phone onto the floorboard. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're a fucking monster," you whispered, tears streaming down your face as you pushed at his chest weakly.

Rafe laughed, low and taunting, as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. "You say that now, but I don't think your pussy got the memo. You're squeezing me so tight right now-what do you think that means, huh?"

"Stop-"

"No, you stop," Rafe snapped, his voice darkening as he leaned in closer, his face hovering just above yours. "You wanna play the victim, act like you hate this, but I know the truth. You fucking love it.“

You couldn’t even argue with him. Not when he was abusing your g spot the way he was.

The backseat of Rafe's truck had turned into a world of its own-hot, suffocating, and inescapable. The windows dripped condensation, a cage of sweat and shadows that blurred the outside world into nothing. It was just you and him, and every second passed like a fever you couldn't break.

Rafe hadn't let up-not with his words, not with his hands. He was relentless, pressing you deeper into the leather, dragging every ounce of fight you had left out of you. Every time you thought you could pull yourself back together, he shattered you all over again.

"You're not even trying to fight me anymore," Rafe murmured, his voice low and taunting as he stared down at you. The blue of his eyes looked almost silver in the faint light, glinting with satisfaction as they dragged over your tear-streaked face. "That's sweet. Guess you finally figured it out."

Your chest heaved with shaky breaths, your body trembling beneath him as you turned your head away. "I hate you," you whispered weakly, the words barely audible.

Rafe grabbed your chin, his fingers digging in just enough to make you look at him. "Yeah?" he taunted, his grin wicked. "You love repeating yourself, huh?. Go on. Keep telling me how much you hate me while you're laying here, dripping all over my seat like a desperate little Pogue slut.”

You clenched your jaw, the tears pooling in your eyes making it hard to see him clearly.

"I... I hate you."

Rafe's expression didn't change. If anything, his smirk deepened, like he was enjoying every second of your misery. "Nah," he said softly, shaking his head as his thumb brushed across your lip. "That's not what I wanna hear."

"Rafe, please.." you choked out, your voice breaking.

"Please what?" he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery. "You want me to stop? Want me to let you go so you can run back to those broke-ass Pogues? Fuck that." He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me what you really want."

Your heart sank, every word tightening around your throat like a noose. "Don’t…Don’t stop," you whispered.

Rafe grinned, his hand slipping to rest at your jaw, his grip firm but not cruel. "That's better," he murmured, tilting your head back so you couldn't look away. "Say it again. Louder."

Your lip trembled as the words slipped from your mouth like poison. "Don’t stop, Rafe…please."

"Good girl," Rafe muttered, his thumb tracing along the tear-streaked curve of your cheek.

"See how easy that was? You can listen when you want to."

You closed your eyes, fresh tears spilling down your face, but Rafe wasn't done. His grip tightened slightly, a warning, as his voice dipped lower. "You know what else I wanna hear?"

You nodded your head submissively. "Please... tell me, Rafe.”

He smirks at your obedience before speaking, his tone firm and commanding. "Say you'd choose me over them. Over your little Pogue friends. Say it, Y/N."

Your eyes snapped open, horror twisting in your chest as you stared up at him. "No."

Rafe tilted his head, his smirk cold and sharp.

"No?" He chuckled softly, his grip never wavering as his free hand trailed down your side, slow and deliberate. "You don't get to say no. Not anymore. Say it."

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat as you tried to pull back-tried to escape the weight of him, the weight of his words. "I-I don’t wanna."

"I didn’t fucking ask if you wanted to." Rafe growled, his face inches from yours. "You're mine now. Not theirs. Mine. Say it."

You shook your head weakly, tears streaming freely now as your chest heaved. "I-l'd choose you."

Rafe froze, his gaze locking onto yours, something wild and triumphant sparking in his eyes. "What was that?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, your voice breaking as you repeated the words he wanted. "I'd choose you over them."

"Look at me when you say it."

You blinked up at him, the tears blurring his face as you choked out the words again. "I'd choose you over them, Rafe."

His grin stretched wider, his expression dark and smug as he brushed his lips against your ear.

"Damn right you would," he murmured, his voice soft but venomous. "They don't deserve you. They never did. I'm the only one who sees you for what you are."

You didn't respond. How could you? The fight had drained from your body completely, leaving you trembling and broken beneath him as he watched you with the same victorious gleam in his blue eyes.

But Rafe wasn't done.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his tone low but firm, his grip tightening on your jaw.

Your stomach twisted, fresh tears spilling as you stared up at him, wide-eyed and uncertain.

"Rafe, why-"

"Do it," he snapped, his voice sharper now, his smirk twisting into something darker. "Don't make me ask again, Pogue."

Your lip trembled, your body shaking as you parted your lips hesitantly, the humiliation burning through you like fire.

"That's my girl," Rafe muttered, his eyes locked onto yours, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip before he leaned forward. Without hesitation, he spit into your mouth, the action deliberate, possessive, and utterly degrading.

"Swallow that shit," Rafe commanded, his tone calm but laced with authority. "Don't even think about spitting it out."

Your throat tightened, the shame twisting in your chest as you obeyed, swallowing under his watchful gaze.

"That's it," he murmured, his grin widening as he cupped your cheek, his pale fingers brushing against your tear-streaked skin.

"Good fucking girl. That's why you're mine. Because no one else could handle you like this."

His thumb dragged across your lips, smearing the wetness there as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again.

"Say it one more time," he whispered, his voice soft but no less commanding. "Say you'd choose me over them."

You choked back a sob, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "I'd choose you over them."

"Good girl," Rafe whispered, his voice almost tender as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. "I knew you'd come around eventually. You just needed me to remind you where you belong."

He pulled back just slightly, his gaze lingering on your tear-streaked face as he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. "Bet you'd let me knock you up, wouldn't you?" Rafe murmured, his voice almost soft, his smirk curling into something sinister. "Let me put a fucking Kook baby in you. Make you mine for real."

Your stomach flipped, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him in disbelief. "You're sick," you whispered, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his thumb dragging along your jaw as his pale fingers stood out against your dark skin. "Yeah, well so are you. Ditching your friends and begging for my dick." He leaned closer, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "What kinda girl does that make you, huh?"

You were quiet and couldn’t even respond…how could you. He was right. You begged him not to stop and even now you wanted him to keep sliding his dick in you.

Rafe's smirk widened as your silence stretched. "I asked you a fucking question," he growled, his hand suddenly tightening around your throat. The pressure made you gasp, your back arching against the seat as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your lips. "What kinda girl does that make you?"

You shook your head weakly, the tears spilling faster now as your chest heaved.

"Rafe, what do you want-"

"Don't fucking 'question' me," he snapped, his grip tightening further, sending a dizzying rush through your body. His other hand slid down to grab your hip, pulling you closer as he sneered, "Say it. Say what you are, baby. You're my little whore, aren't you? My dirty Pogue bitch who can't get enough."

A broken sob escaped you, and his grin only grew as he tilted your head back, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

Your breath hitched, your voice barely above a whisper as the words slipped past your lips, tasting like poison and fire. "I'm... I'm yours."

"Yeah, you fucking are," Rafe muttered, his tone softening just slightly as he released your throat, dragging his hand back to your clit, playing with it as he continues to thrust into you, deep.

Your chest heaved, your body trembling as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, that coil of tension snapping inside you as you come around his dick. You gasp sharply, your head falling back against the seat as your body arched into his.

"Ah shit," Rafe grunted with a deep sigh, his voice dark and triumphant as his hand slid up your brown thigh, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

"That's my good girl. You're so fucking perfect when you cum for me."

You whimpered, tears spilling freely now, your mind fogged and overwhelmed. But Rafe didn't stop. He wasn't done with you yet.

"Look at me," he ordered, his tone commanding as he grabbed your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes burned into your brown ones, the smug smirk on his lips twisting into something darker. "You think I'm letting you off that easy. You're gonna give me one more."

"Rafe-" you choked out, your voice trembling.

"Don't fucking fight me," he snapped, his grip tightening. "You've got one more in you, baby. I know you do. And you're gonna give it to me."

Your body trembled, your head spinning as he pushed you further, relentless in his thrusts.

Every nerve was on fire, every sound that escaped your lips ripped from your chest against your will.

"That's it," Rafe murmured, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl. "Give me one more baby…just one more around my dick."

The words hit you like a punch, and you shattered, the wave crashing over you so hard it left you breathless. Rafe followed you down, his grip tightening as his own body tensed, his head falling into the crook of your neck as a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he got closer.

Rafe didn't stop. He followed you through it, his strokes still sharp and relentless, his grip firm as he kept you exactly where he wanted you. His breath was ragged, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

For a moment, everything stilled. The truck rocked gently beneath you, the windows fogged, the world outside feeling a million miles away. His weight pressed into you, heavy and grounding, his chest heaving against yours.

You should have been angry. Humiliated. But instead, the words left your lips before you could stop them.

"Rafe... cum in me."

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

The smirk that spread across his face was sharp and wicked, his tone laced with mockery as he chuckled. "Oh, you think you're calling the shots now?"

"Please..." you whispered, your voice trembling as fresh tears slid down your cheeks.

Rafe leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours as he sneered. "What makes you think you've earned that, huh? After pulling that little stunt on my boat? You think you can tell me what to do?"

You shook your head weakly, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he moved again, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. "You wanna tell me what to do? No, I tell you what to do."

You whimpered, your hands gripping at his shoulders as your body trembled beneath him. "Rafe... please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" His voice dipped into something darker, more dangerous, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "You'll cry for it, baby. You'll fucking beg for it, or you're not getting shit."

You bit down on your lip, the tears spilling faster now as your chest heaved. "Please," you choked out, your voice breaking.

"Please, Rafe. I need it. I need you."

"Louder," he demanded, his hand moving to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Let me hear you fucking mean it."

Your voice cracked as you sobbed, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. "Please, Rafe! I need you to cum in me! I'm yours-I'll do whatever you want! Just... please."

His grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his pale blue eyes as he tilted your chin up, pressing a slow, mocking kiss to your lips.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, his tone dripping with triumph.

And when he finally came in you, letting himself unravel against you, the low, guttural sound that escaped him sent a shiver through your entire body. His weight collapsed onto you once more, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed his forehead to yours, a lazy, smug grin still plastered across his face.

Then Rafe tilted his head, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're never leaving me now, Y/N. Not after this."

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Because deep down, you knew he was right.

And that terrified you.

The haze came quickly after that, swallowing you whole. The heat, the sweat, the steady weight of him pressed against your trembling body-all of it felt distant and surreal. You weren't sure how long you lay there, pinned beneath him, his blue eyes watching you like you were a puzzle he'd just solved.

Then his hand came up, quick and light, delivering a playful slap to your cheek. Not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.

"Hey," Rafe muttered, his smirk twisting into something sharper, darker. "Don't drift off on me. You're not getting out of this until you say it."

You blinked up at him, your breath shaky as the fog clouding your thoughts started to lift. "Say... what?"

Rafe's hand slid to your jaw, gripping you firmly as he tilted your head back, his lips brushing over yours in a way that felt both possessive and mocking. "Say you're sorry for what you did. For pushing me off my fucking boat."

Your lips parted, your chest heaving as his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, leaving you trembling beneath him. "Rafe, are you serious-"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice sharp but calm, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Apologize, and maybe I'll go easy on you."

A tear slipped down your cheek as the words caught in your throat. You hated him. You hated the way he owned you, the way he twisted you into knots with nothing but his voice, his touch. But the fight had been drained from your body completely, leaving you with no choice but to obey.

"I'm sorry." you whispered, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes.

Rafe's grin widened, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your lips. "Louder."

Your body trembled, the shame burning hot in your chest as you repeated the words, louder this time. "I'm sorry for pushing you off your boat."

"Good girl," Kate murmured, his tone laced with triumph as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, full of teeth and heat, and you felt yourself slipping further into the haze. His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp as his tongue claimed yours.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. But it was addictive.

He pulled back just slightly, his pale blue eyes watching your swollen lips, the tear streaks on your face. "You feel that?" he muttered, his voice low and mocking as his hand cupped your cheek. "That's mine now. All of it. Every fucking piece of you."

You didn't argue. You still couldn't.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his tone soft but firm, his smirk curling as his thumb tapped your bottom lip.

Your lips parted instinctively, and the haze grew thicker as he spit into your mouth again, the deliberate action pulling a low whimper from you.

Rafe's grin deepened, his eyes gleaming with something wicked as he leaned forward and whispered, “Ready for round 2?”

You paused for a second to see if he was serious and when you saw that he in fact wasn’t joking, your rolled eyes.

You were never trusting Kiara, Cleo, or Sarah again. Not that you’d get the chance to since you belonged to Rafe now.

You were his. Not theirs.

[bombuni]

contains: roommates!yungi x gn!reader, pre-poly (?), yes they r in love with u and each other yes they have no idea what to do about it

“They’re gonna be so mad,”

Yunho turns to Mingi, who’s all too casually chewing on his sandwich you made him, with a swiftness that causes his neck to jolt. He purses his lips in frustration and furrows his brow so Mingi gets the message that his input is not needed.

Mingi keeps chewing and watching Yunho fumble with your now bleach stained shirt. Your favorite shirt, to be exact. All he’d done was put your laundry to wash and now he feels like disaster is imminent. He’s kneeling on the floor of your guys’ living room-on the patterned rug you bought-completely distraught and still in his pajamas. He’s been dealing with this predicament all morning, suffering by himself and trying like hell to get rid of the big, ugly thing. He’s starting to think it’s taunting him.

Yunho turns back to the shirt he’s flattened out on the floor, “What do I do?”

Mingi sits back on the couch and turns the TV on to his current watch, humming whatever song he heard on the radio as if his roommate isn’t 2 feet away and practically breaking down. Yunho runs his hands over the front of your shirt again, like he’s been doing for the past hour, as if that’ll make the giant mark disappear. The clock ticks and he’s all too aware of the time of your arrival slowly inching closer and closer.

Mingi internally giggles at Yunho’s disheveled hair, “Serves you right for touching their stuff,”

Yunho pouts from the floor, “I was trying to help them out!”

“So why didn’t you do my laundry too?”

Yunho pauses for a few seconds before turning to scoop your shirt up in his arms, carefully as if it’s not already tainted by himself, “You’re useless,” he stands up quickly and exasperated, turning back around with an accusing finger, “and you haven’t been working overtime. That’s why I didn’t do your laundry.”

“Hey!” Mingi pouts and stands with purpose, just as irritated as Yunho now. He wants to poke fun at Yunho some more, but he spies your lit hot buttered rum candle out of the corner of his eye. The one you lit this morning before you left for work so the house would smell nice for your roommates. He spies the neatly organized coat rack by the door, the one where he always haphazardly throws his jacket on but finds it neatly back in its designated spot the next morning. He spies the second wrapped sandwich left on the counter, the one you made specifically for him.

Yunho’s already gone into the kitchen to try, for the millionth time, to wash out the stain once Mingi’s had the little revelation that he’s so endeared by everything you do for them, or just you in general. He figures Yunho’s already realized this a while ago, based on his unrelenting efforts to save your favorite shirt. God, you haven’t even told them outright that it’s your favorite shirt but they both just know because of how often they see you wearing it. Mingi’s just thinking over every little detail about you he’s subconsciously stored in his brain, shelved right next to every little detail about Yunho.

He stands next to the brown-haired panicked man by the sink, now ready to double his efforts and put his all into saving your shirt. He starts scrubbing like the stain owes him money. He gets a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach now, standing next to a pleading Yunho and your material under his fingers. Mingi feels fully at home, servicing both of you, but he doesn’t want to unpack that now. Yunho feels a softness blooming in him, watching how focused Mingi is getting, and the softness grows until he feels like it’s going to burst out of him like the cotton fluff in a teddy bear. A knock on the front door takes him out of it.

They both look at each other with wide eyes, panic rising as the lock keeps clicking and the door creaks open. Yunho shakes the shirt wildly in a last, stupid attempt to magically get the stain off and Mingi bites his fingernails in anxiousness. Waiting, guiltily, to let you find them both like kids caught stealing out of the cookie jar.

“Hey,” your voice echoes in the kitchen as you casually walk in and unpack your lunchbox. It’s eerie because of the out of character silence. Usually you’re hounded by Yunho asking how your day was and Mingi complaining to you about whatever he wants to that day. They’re turned away from you, standing at the sink and fiddling with a cloth in their hands. The guilt is hanging in the air, almost contaminating you too. It’s so clearly written on Mingi’s pouting face every time he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and you don’t really have to wait to have your suspicions confirmed.

You lean on the counter and cross your arms, “Ok, what did you two do?”

They slowly turn to you, “Nothing, we ju-“

“Yunho got a bleach stain on your favorite shirt.”

You both look at Mingi, Yunho turning with a betrayed look on his face, “What? You shouldn’t have done their laundry without permission,”

You walk in between where they stand at the sink, taking the shirt into your hands and unfolding it until you spy the splotch. Yunho twirls his hands and watches you with puppy dog eyes, curling in on himself as if he’s preparing for a scolding. Mingi thinks he’s adorably pathetic, falling for his wide eyes even though they aren’t directed at him.

You hum and shrug, “I’ll just use this as a sleep shirt from now on.”

Yunho splutters and stands tall, offense overtaking his features and once again making Mingi the scapegoat to all of his problems, “You said they’d be totally mad at me!”

Mingi has a dumb smile on his face as Yunho keeps blabbering and smacking his side. You blow out the hot buttered rum candle on the counter, watching as the two keep battling and calling to you to ‘join their side.’ It turns out like always, with Yunho pinning Mingi to the couch and their ‘fight’ dissolving into soft giggles. It’s quiet for a moment as they catch their breath, before you come crashing onto Yunho’s back and forcing him to topple over Mingi. The room is loud again, filled with complaints and grumbling but none of you move. Mingi shifts so you’re both comfortably on top of him. His arms hardly fit around two bodies and Yunho’s practically falling off the edge of the couch but he’d rather die than purposefully leave the feeling of Mingi’s chest rising and falling under him, the feeling of your gentle hand running over the spots on his face. It’s another Thursday night in your crowded home and you can find love in every nook and cranny.

bom note: love domesticity hope i can try it sometime

[hunterwritings]

I love your Miguel with a bubbly reader! Can we please see more of it? Like maybe Miguel is scolding the other Spiders and Reader walks in and Miguel is like a whole new person but still wants to murder the other Spiders? It makes me think of the tik tok where its like "IM GOING TO KILL THE NEXT PERSON I SEE" *Reader walks in* "Hi honey!" *Miguel with heart eyes* "Your back! I missed you so much (insert Miguel gushing about how much he loves Reader in front of Spiders)"

THIS IS THE TROPE I LIVE FOR

only for you | miguel o'hara

summary: Miguel acts like a completely different person with you around. warnings: none | wc: 1075

"How could you let something like this happen?!"

Miguel was seething; Miles swears he could almost see smoke coming out of his ears. The spider teens had almost disrupted another canon event and almost caused the universe to collapse.

"Listen Miguel, I know the kids made some mistakes but, that's exactly what they were! Mistakes!" Peter B. Parker tried to reason with him, with his hands stretched out and a stupid smile on his face.

"You want to put the fate of the multiverse on a goddamn mistake? I will not risk that." Miguel fired back.

"To be honest, I don't know what the big deal is, they ended up fixing it." Peter added. Miguel snapped his head around to face him, his eyes would be burning holes through him if looks could kill.

"No Peter, you don't understand the importance of this! And clearly, neither do you all!" He said, gesturing towards the teens. "It just shows that you are just as responsible as a child! So Peter, do yourself a favor, and shut the hell up." Miguel had venom laced in his words.

"Ooo...kay." Peter responded, shaking his head and pursing his lips together.

"Miguel, we know that we made mistakes and we are sorry, it will never happen again." Gwen tried to apologize genuinely to him.

"Uh, I don't apologize actually, I see nothin' wrong with what we did-" Hobie protested, Pavitr elbowed him to signal him to stop.

"You all know exactly what we do here, you know the importance of keeping everything in line. I'm this close to kicking you all out of Spider Society!" He yells, showing his fingers pinched together.

"You can't kick us out if we all quit!" Hobie laughs.

"Hobie!" Gwen snaps her head around at him.

"I- I- I can't even deal with you right now!" Miguel holds his pointer finger and thumb to his temples as he turns his back to them.

Just then, you swing in from the other side of him and jump down to land next to him. "Hi Miguel." You smile as he turns to look at you.

"Gracias a Dios [thank god], I'm so glad you're here (Y/N)." He seemed to have relief flow into his body as he reached over a pulled you into his chest. You chuckled in surprise from the sudden affection as he tightly wraps his arms around your shoulders. "Felt like I was about to lose it in a couple more seconds." He whispers into your ear.

"Well luckily, I showed up right on time then." You giggle as he lets you go and you look up at him with a smile.

"You have no idea." He smirked and shook his head.

"Oh thank god you're here (Y/N), I was afraid he was gonna start biting soon!" Peter laughed as you turned around to face the group. Miguel stared him down.

"Soo, what's going on here?" You curiously ask.

"Trying to have a serious conversation with people who have no respect for what we do around here." He snaps to them.

"Don't look at me! I wasn't even there, I'm just trying to stand up for the kids!" Peter says, holding his hands up in defense. Miguel just groans and shakes his head.

"Oh Miguel, maybe you should go a little easy on them." You say, walking up to him. He rests his hands on your hips and sighs when you lie your hand on his cheek. "I mean, we should be happy that no one got hurt and the universe is still intact." you smile at him and he matches your smile.

He hums in response. "Plus, I think this lecture will scare them enough to where this shouldn't happen again." You add.

"You'd be surprised how many of these talks I've had." He scoffs and smirks.

You laughed loudly. "Just remember they're kids and they're trying their best." You smiled and he nodded. "Be easy on them." You added.

"I will." He said softly.

You grinned before leaning up and pulling his neck down to pull him into a sweet kiss. You felt him smile against your lips as he hummed. You pulled away and smiled at him before hearing a beeping on your watching.

"Oh, I've got a situation going on in my universe." You say tapping the hologram on your wrist.

"You need any help with it?" Miguel asks, ready to leave in a second if asked him to.

"No, it's nothing major, don't worry. It shouldn't take that long, I should be back before dinner." You say, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before turning and walking the other way.

"Oh! Maybe I'll grab some food from that Italian place we always go to!" You say, walking backwards to face him and smiling widely while opening up a portal behind you.

"Sounds like a good plan, my love." He agrees with a smile.

You chuckle before pulling down your mask and jumping into the portal as it closes.

Miguel's smile lingers on his face before seeing Peter B. Parker in his peripheral before he slung his arm around his shoulder and laughed. "Oh wow, you really love them huh? I can tell by the way you don't act like a raging monster when they're around." He jokes as Miguel just stares ahead, his demeanor was agitated. "Get off of me, Peter." He said with no emotion.

"Okay, not gonna risk getting my arm torn off today." He says, backing off from Miguel.

"Aw, seems like you're really in love, eh?" Hobie jokes and Gwen shoves him slightly.

"You're not helping, Hobie." Miles says anxiously.

"I'm not trying to." Hobie says in all seriousness.

"Okay, everyone out. We're done here. " Miguel says with his back turned to them and his hands on his hips.

"Let's leave before he changes his mind." Gwen whispers to the rest of them.

"If I have to do this again for any of you, it's gonna be the last time." Miguel warns as he points at them.

"Yes Miguel, we understand and we promise." Gwen says genuinely.

Miguel sighs and turns his back to them as they all turn to leave the room. A slight smile came to face at the thought of you prancing back into his space with food in hand. He stood and watched his communicator in case you needed his help, and waited for you to come back.

[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: As the Archeron sisters grow older you take in as your mission to make things right for your cousins, even if the secrets you keep of where you are from and who you are might one day collapse. You never wanted to go back to that life, but something is calling you, and it might be your only way back home.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, verbal offense, not 100% book following, Rhys is still not here 😔

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 2: Two Birds

The tension between you and Feyre had reached its peak on a hot afternoon. Feyre found you in the library again, poring over yet another ancient text. The stacks of books beside you had grown significantly over the past few weeks - histories of Prythian, records of treaties, maps of the courts - everything that consumed every single little free time you had. Every second you spent running away from Feyre cost you her patience.

Feyre leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Are you ever going to tell me what you’re looking for?”  

You didn’t look up. “Answers.”  

Feyre huffed. “To what?”  

Your fingers stilled on the pages. Slowly, you lifted her gaze. “To things you’re not ready to hear. Things you don't want to hear.” 

Feyre’s frustration flared. “Why do you always do this? Why do you act like you know something I don’t?”  

You studied your cousin for a long moment. Poor little girl. Who believes in what faes say without a question, who is easily enchanted by the wonders this place has to offer and ignores the dangers. Then you exhaled, closing the book with a quiet thud. You promised you wouldn't go there. Promised you wouldn't be like your mother, just this once.

“If you keep going down this path,” you said quietly, “if you keep trusting Tamlin, this truth won’t be hidden for much longer.”  

Feyre blinked. “What does that mean?”  

But you were already standing, already walking toward the door. Feyre grabbed your wrist. “Y/N—”

The library seemed to shrink around you both, the heat of the afternoon pressing against the old wooden walls. Feyre’s fingers clutched your wrist, her nails digging into your skin.

“What does that mean?” she repeated, her voice sharper now.

You glanced at her hand on your arm, then at her face — frustration, confusion, and that stubborn pride you knew all too well flickering in her eyes. It would be so easy to end this here. To lie. To brush her off like you always did. But the weight of the truth—of the past—had been clawing at your chest for weeks.

“It means you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you, what I've been telling you since we got here.” You snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You trust him because you want to believe he’s something better. Because you’ve always been too fucking naive to know how this world really works.”

Feyre's eyes widened, like you had slapped her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You wrenched your arm free, taking a step back, putting distance between you — not trusting yourself, not trusting the bitterness rising up in your throat.

“It means you believe in stupid fairy tales they have been building around you, you are making them sure that you are just a stupid little human girl” you hissed “That thinks a little kindness from a High Lord makes him good. You’ve always been too dumb to question why someone with so much power would ever be generous without wanting something in return, and you are giving what they want on a silver platter, without realizing you are eating out their kindness from their shoes. You weren't lucky that Andras didn't kill you that night in the forest, you are a pawn in a game you don't even have a fucking mind to see you are playing.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You saw the exact moment the words hit her — saw the hurt flicker through her face before she masked it with anger.

“I forget you are a stupid little human girl too. Just because you're smarter or taller or stronger or… hell even prettier than me doesn't make you anything more than a human too.” Her voice was low, trembling.  

“I know.” You forced out, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears.  

Feyre shook her head slowly. “You don’t sound like you believe it.”  

It sliced through you, deeper than you expected. You could feel it rising — the weight of your mother’s voice, the bitterness she carried until the day she died. The hatred for the human blood that bound you to a world that would never truly accept you. You had sworn never to become her.  

Yet here you were — spitting the same venom she used to whisper in your ear at night.  

“Feyre, I didn’t mean—” But your throat closed before you could finish, the memories crashing over you — your mother's cold hands brushing your hair to make sure your ears would show up, her eyes as she watched you train and snicker every time you made a mistake because you weren't fast enough or stronger enough, her judgemental looks every time you were playing with your best friend, her sharp voice warning you to never forget what ran in your veins. What you truly were.  

Half-blood. Abomination. Incomplete. Unworthy. Nothing.

You staggered back a step. “Forget it.”

Feyre's brow furrowed, the anger fading into confusion. “Y/N—”

But you were already moving — bolting toward the door, your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. You barely made it to your room before the sob tore out of you. You pressed your back against the door, sliding down until you hit the floor, hands shaking.  

Not again.  

Not like her.  

But the truth was already there — clawing under your skin, whispering in your blood. You didn't belong here. You didn't belong anywhere. And no matter how much you tried to bury it, the truth was starting to rise — and soon, not even you would be able to hide it.

Feyre stood there, heart pounding in the empty library. She had had enough. If you wouldn’t tell her the truth—she would find someone who would.  

☆

Lucien found Feyre in the stables the next morning, idly running a hand down a horse’s mane.  

“You’re brooding.”  

Feyre sighed. “I am not brooding.”  

Lucien leaned against the stall, arms crossed. “You’re definitely brooding.”  

She glared at him, but he only smirked. “Let me guess, your cousin got under your skin again?”  

Feyre huffed, looking away. “She keeps saying there’s something wrong with Tamlin. That I’m not seeing the full picture. That I don't know anything about this place. But at the same time, she doesn't want to tell me what's wrong.”  

Lucien was silent for a moment. Then, carefully, he said, “She is… perceptive.”  

Feyre frowned. “You're not telling me she's  right, are you?”  

Lucien’s russet eye gleamed. “I think she likes knowing things others don’t.” He tilted his head. “But that doesn’t mean she’s always right. Or wrong. Sometimes decisions aren't truly right or wrong, they depend on the consequences that bring to things that are important to you.”  

Feyre swallowed. Lucien watched her, and then, with a lazy grin, said, “You’re thinking too hard. Come on, let’s spar. I want to see if you’re as terrible with a sword as you are with a bow.”  

Feyre rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Let's do it like this: if I touch you with the sword, you answer a question of mine, no walking around the truth, just a straight answer. If you touch me, I answer questions about Y/N that I know you are curious to ask.”

“That's a deal, little human.”

Lucien led Feyre to a small clearing just behind the stables, the morning sun filtering through the trees. He took his sword with a lazy flick of his wrist, the wood feeling a little too light to what he is used to.

“Ready, little human?” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Feyre rolled her shoulders, gripping the wooden practice sword he had tossed her way. “You're going to regret making this deal, fox boy.”

Lucien's grin widened. “We'll see.”

He lunged without warning — a quick, fluid strike aimed at her side. Feyre barely managed to block, stumbling back a step. 

“Too slow.” With a flick of his wrist, the flat of his blade tapped her ribs. “That’s one.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. Lucien leaned on his sword, smug. “Tell me… when did Y/N show up at your family’s doorstep?”

Feyre's hands tightened on the hilt, but she forced her breathing steady. “I was still a child. She came after… after our father lost everything. She never talked about where she came from, only that she was family and was there to help.”

Lucien's smile didn't quite reach his eye. “Funny how she never mentioned where that family line came from, isn't it?”

Feyre scowled. “My turn.” She lunged, clumsy but quick — her wooden sword skimming his shoulder. Lucien blinked, surprised.  

Feyre smirked. “Tell me… how do you find out people's secrets in Prythian?”

Lucien's grin faltered, just for a heartbeat, before he leaned closer. “There’s an ancient creature,” he said quietly. “The Suriel. It loves to talk, if you know how to catch it.”

“How do you catch a Suriel?”

“That's not how the game works, Feyre.” Her heart skipped a beat, but she masked it, stepping back into position. Lucien struck fast — tapping her knee before she could block.  

“That’s two.”

He circled her slowly. “Y/N… how well does she know how to use a bow?”

Feyre's jaw clenched. “Better than I ever will. That thing looks like a kids toy to her.”

Lucien hummed. “Thought so.”

They fought in near silence, the rhythm of wood clashing against steel filling the clearing.  

Lucien struck her shoulder — three.  

“How were your hunts together?”

“She always had more food than me. She was faster, it was easier for her. Sometimes I spent hours getting a rabbit just to go back and find out she had a wolf and two deers ready.”

Her thigh — four.  

“What is that accent of hers?”

“I don't know. Ever since I met her she seems to be forcing it down, but when her emotions are too much it comes back without her realizing. Never heard anyone talking like her.”

Her wrist — five.  

“Why did she come to your family?”

Feyre's stomach twisted. “She never told us. Only that she had nowhere else to go.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to the ground for half a second — as if that answer confirmed something he already suspected. Feyre forced herself to move, forced her body into action, swinging low, then high, until her wooden sword clipped his ribs.  

Lucien hissed through his teeth.  

“Straight answer, Lucien.”

His russet eye flicked toward her. “The Suriel can be found in the western woods, near the snare traps. But catching it is one thing… surviving its company is another.”

Feyre's heart pounded. She had one last strike left — and she knew exactly what she would ask. But Lucien was faster. His blade touched her ribs once more, making her curse under her breath.  

He grinned. “What’s she hiding from you?” 

Feyre's stomach twisted painfully.  

“I don’t know.”

Lucien's grin faded — because they both knew that was the worst answer of all. They circled each other one last time, the clearing thick with tension.  

Feyre lunged — her blade grazing his forearm. Lucien froze, breath catching.  

“What is she?” Feyre demanded.  

Lucien's russet eye locked onto hers, something dark flickering behind it. “I don't know. Ever since I met her, her mother never let her tell anyone else. But sometimes I think... She doesn't remember what she is, either.”

☆

Feyre waited until dawn before slipping into the woods, her bow slung over her shoulder and a satchel filled with snares bouncing at her hip. She walked in silence, the crisp morning air biting at her cheeks as she followed the path Lucien had mentioned, deeper and deeper into the dense green, where the light barely cut through the canopy.  

The Suriel.  

It felt foolish, chasing whispers and myths. But Feyre had no other choice, not when doubt gnawed at her every waking thought, not when your voice echoed in her mind, warning her again and again that something was wrong.  

The western woods stretched on endlessly, shadows pressing in from every side. Feyre set her traps with shaking fingers, twine and bones, baited with the blood of a rabbit she had killed earlier that morning. She didn’t know how long she waited—hours maybe—crouched behind a fallen tree, bow in hand, her heart pounding with every snapped twig and distant rustle.  

Then… The snare snapped tight. 

Feyre rose slowly, arrow notched, and stepped toward the clearing. The Suriel stood tangled in the trap, its skeletal frame hunched beneath the cloak of tattered black. Its milky white eyes gleamed in the dim light, lips stretched into a grin beneath the shadow of its hood.  

“Ah, the human girl comes seeking knowledge.”  

Feyre's grip tightened on her bowstring. “I caught you. You have to answer my questions.”

The Suriel’s grin widened, revealing yellowed teeth. “I do.” 

Feyre swallowed hard. Her heart thundered so loud she was sure the creature could hear it. “Tell me about Tamlin. Tell me the truth.”

The Suriel's hollow voice echoed through the clearing. “You have already been warned of the truth, haven't you? You cling to your ignorance because it is easier. But the High Lord of Spring hides more than his heart from you.”

Feyre's stomach twisted. “What curse is he under?”

The Suriel chuckled—a low, rattling sound. “Ah, unfortunately there are stronger magics that not even I can go through. That is not my secret to tell.”

Feyre's hands trembled around the bowstring. She was running out of time—she could feel it, like the forest itself was holding its breath. But before she could ask her next question, before the fear could win, another thought clawed its way forward.  

You.  

Her cousin's face flashed in her mind—those sharp, knowing eyes, that endless searching. She hadn't planned to ask. But the words slipped out before she could stop them.  

“What about Y/N?”

The Suriel's grin faded—just slightly. Its head tilted, milky eyes narrowing. “Ah… the lost daughter.”

Feyre's heart stopped. “What does that mean?”

The Suriel leaned closer, the snare biting into its withered wrists. “You do not yet understand what she is, do you?”

Feyre's mouth went dry. “Tell me.”

A long pause stretched between them. Then, softly… “Long ago, an Archeron man had a child with a fae female. A rare thing… an impossible thing, perhaps. The daughter of that union has been hidden for centuries, searching for what was stolen from her.”

Feyre's knees buckled. Her cousin. Her cousin, who was stronger, faster, more beautiful than anyone had a right to be. Her cousin, who always seemed to know more than she let on, who carried a grief Feyre had never understood.  

Half-fae.  

“You're lying.” Her voice cracked.  

The Suriel only smiled. “The Archeron line has always carried secrets. You are not the first to stand in Prythian, Feyre Archeron.”

The world tilted. Her lungs squeezed, breath coming faster and faster. “What is she searching for?”

The Suriel's smile sharpened. “The same thing all lost things search for. A way home. The family that was taken from her.”

Feyre's legs threatened to give out—but the sound of snapping branches cut through the haze. Her head whipped toward the trees. A low growl echoed through the clearing—then another.  

The Naga.  

Feyre's heart leapt into her throat as the four shadowed figures emerged from the brush, black eyes glinting with hunger.  

“Release me, human,” the Suriel hissed. “They will not touch you if I am free.”

Her fingers fumbled at the knot, but the Naga were already circling, their claws glinting. 

“You're taking too long,” the Suriel warned.  

Feyre notched an arrow and loosed it, striking one of the creatures in the shoulder. It barely flinched. Another lunged for her, she stumbled back, slashing wildly with her knife.  

“Free me,” the Suriel rasped.  

Feyre's blood roared in her ears. She dropped her bow, hands flying to the knot, tearing at the twine, nails ripping at the bone latches. The Suriel's long fingers closed around her wrist, guiding her.  

“You asked the right questions, Feyre Archeron,” it murmured. “Now run.”

The snare snapped loose. The Suriel vanished into the shadows—just as Lucien's arrows flew from the brush, striking two Naga dead in an instant. Feyre stumbled, breath ragged, as Lucien dragged her to her feet.  

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snarled.  

But she barely heard him—her mind still spinning.  

Y/N.  

Half-fae.  

Hidden.  

Searching.  

Not the first Archeron to stand in Prythian.

Lucien hauled her through the woods, cursing the entire way—but Feyre couldn't stop replaying the Suriel's words.  

The truth was almost here. And somehow… somehow you were at the center of it.

The second attack came fast. Too fast.  

Feyre had been running back from the stream with Lucien, still shaken from her encounter with the Suriel, the creature’s riddles echoing in her head—you, the lost daughter, half-fae—when the forest went too quiet.  

A silence that pressed in like a held breath.  

Lucien froze beside her, one hand slowly reaching for the sword at his side. Feyre’s fingers brushed the hilt of her knife, heart pounding. The sound was barely there—too controlled, too deliberate to be the wind.  

Then the growl. Low. Guttural.  

Feyre barely had time to turn before the creature lunged.  

It was all instinct—throwing herself to the ground as the beast sailed over her, claws slicing through the air where her throat had been a heartbeat before. She hit the earth hard, rolling, scrambling for her knife—  

Too slow. The Naga was already rounding on her, black eyes locked onto its prey. Feyre’s fingers closed around the knife hilt—she had no time to lift it before the beast snarled and pounced.  

She braced for pain. But it never came.  

The Naga’s body was wrenched back, its screech cutting off in a wet, gurgling choke. Feyre blinked, the world spinning. And there you were. A dagger buried in the creature’s throat.  

The Naga’s black blood splattered across your tunic, streaked down your arm—but you barely seemed to notice. You ripped the blade free, letting the body crumple to the forest floor without so much as a second glance.  

It took Feyre a full heartbeat to realize what she’d seen. How fast you had moved. No human should have been able to cross that distance so quickly. No human should have been able to throw a beast like that as if it weighed nothing.  

Feyre’s heart stammered in her chest, but before she could speak—before she could even breathe, another Naga lunged from the brush.  

Lucien was already moving, his sword a blur as he cut the creature down, blood spraying over the ferns. The third beast slunk into the shadows, but one glance from you had it retreating, snarling, into the depths of the woods.  

The silence returned, broken only by the harsh pant of Feyre’s breath. Lucien turned to her, wiping black blood from his sword with a rag. His russet eye scanned her quickly, a flicker of relief crossing his face.  

“Are you hurt?”

“I—” Feyre swallowed hard, her eyes locked on you. You stood over the Naga’s body, wiping your dagger clean with precise, clinical movements, your face utterly blank.  

But Feyre had seen it. Had felt it. There was no fear in your eyes. No trembling hands, no shallow breath. Just cold, detached efficiency. Like this wasn’t the first time you had killed. Like this wasn’t the first time you had moved like something other.  

Half-fae.  

The word curled in Feyre’s mind like a whisper—like the Suriel’s voice still lingering in her bones. You tucked the dagger back into the sheath at your hip, finally glancing at her. Your eyes were calm—too calm.  

“How did you—” Feyre began, voice shaking.  

“Let’s go.” You cut her off without so much as a flicker of emotion.  

Lucien’s golden eye flicked between the two of you, but he said nothing—just sheathed his sword with a sigh. “Don’t bother asking.”

He turned, already striding back toward the manor. But Feyre couldn't move. Her legs felt locked to the forest floor as she watched you, watched the way your fingers curled tight around the hilt of that dagger, the way your breath stayed steady, even, as if the fight had barely cost you anything at all. She wanted to ask, wanted to demand more answers.  

But your gaze flicked toward her—those bright, sharp eyes that always seemed to see too much. And Feyre suddenly understood why you had always hated being asked about your past. Because you had been hiding it. For a long, long time.  

The Suriel’s words echoed through her mind. The lost daughter. Searching for what was stolen from her. Feyre’s throat closed, her heart hammering against her ribs. You stared at her for one long, tense moment. And then you turned, striding after Lucien without another word.  

Feyre’s fingers curled tight around the hilt of her knife, knuckles white. No one said anything the entire walk back to the manor. But as the shadows of the Spring Court closed in around them, Feyre's mind spun, because she knew.  

Even if no one would tell her.  

Even if you refused to answer.  

Whatever secrets Tamlin was hiding, you were hiding something far bigger.

☆

Calanmai. The word itself made the hair on the back of Feyre’s neck stand up.  Tamlin had been clear.  

“Do not leave your room tonight.”

He had said it at dinner, his emerald eyes dark and steady as they pinned her in place. The golden light flickering off the candles did little to soften the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his jaw.  

Feyre had glanced at Lucien, hoping for some explanation, but he had only stared down at his plate, completely silent.  

And you… You had sat at the far end of the table, barely touching your food.   Tamlin’s eyes had flicked toward you once, just once.  

“The rite is not something for mortals to witness.” Something in his voice had been sharper than usual, as if the warning wasn’t just for Feyre.  

You hadn’t even looked up. You had been strange for days. Ever since the Naga attack. Ever since the Suriel. Feyre had caught you pacing the halls at night, your bright eyes flicking to the windows as if something was calling to you from beyond the walls.  Tamlin’s gaze had lingered on you for a long moment—too long—before he finally rose from the table.  

“Stay inside.” He had walked out without another word, Lucien trailing behind him.  

But Feyre had seen the way your fingers curled around the stem of your wine glass. The slight tremor in your hand. You hadn’t looked at her once.  

Now the sun had set, and the night air was thick. Magic hummed through the walls of the manor, a living, breathing thing pressing against her skin. It made Feyre’s heart pound in her chest, made her palms sweat as she paced the length of her room. She wasn’t going to leave. She wasn’t. But you…

Feyre had knocked on your door an hour ago. No answer. No sign of you. Her heart twisted as she stared out the window, watching the distant glow of bonfires rising from the hills, wondering if you would be there. She tried to tell herself that you could take care of yourself. That you had proven that more than once. You were half-fae, after all.

Half-fae. The word tasted strange in her mouth, even now. 

Maybe Tamlin had been right. Maybe she, as a human, didn’t belong out there tonight. But if that was true… Would you belong there?  

You sat on the edge of your bed, fingers tangled in the sheets, trying to breathe. The magic was everywhere. It pulsed beneath the floorboards, hummed through the walls, and sang through the very air itself. Your blood was thrumming with it, your heart pounding like a drumbeat beneath your ribs. Calling, calling, calling—  

You clenched your jaw, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. It had never been like this before. You had felt the shift in the air the moment the sun had set, had felt it all day, really, building like a storm on the horizon. But now—  

It was unbearable.  

You could feel the pulse of the earth, the tug of something ancient and wild beneath your skin. It was in your veins, your bones, like a thread pulling you toward the hills. Your breathing quickened.  

No.

You wouldn’t go. You weren’t like them. You were just half of what those powerful things were. You had spent years telling yourself that, years convincing yourself that whatever blood ran through your veins didn’t mean anything. You were just Y/N Archeron now. You could be human. You were nothing. And yet—  

Your nails dug into your palms, drawing blood. Your head snapped up, eyes flicking toward the window. The bonfires were flickering in the distance, golden and beckoning. The call tugged harder—  

Gods, it hurt. You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to stay seated, to stay inside.

If you stepped foot outside those walls—  

If you followed that pull—  

You didn't know if you would come back.  

Feyre turned from the window, heart hammering. She couldn't explain how she knew, but you would go out there any second.

Her hands were shaking as she opened the window. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying the scent of earth and smoke. “Do not leave the manor tonight.” Tamlin’s voice echoed in her head. But he hadn’t said a word about you. With one last glance toward the door, Feyre swung her legs over the windowsill and slipped into the night.

As she was deep in the forest, her vision blurred when she saw the mess that place had become with so many faes enjoying the festivity. When suddenly a low snarl echoed through the trees—  

And that was the only warning she had before three faeries stepped out of the shadows. Predators. Their smiles were sharp and glinting, their eyes like shards of moonlight. The tallest one grinned wider, his gaze taking down her body.  

“What do we have here?”

[ohbo-ohno]

loneliness and fallen woman with price please! happy 1000 followers ❤️

1k game here - no more please!

alright anon. i gotta be real with you, i barely used the prompts you gave and for that i really am sorry. i wrote like 1k of this about three different times because they kept just not being quite right, and they got increasingly further and further from the prompts. sorry!

2.6k of reader x local crime kingpin price. no smut! (the background plot and "worldbuilding" here is really weak, but just ignore it lol)

You know you’re doing something stupid, but that seems to be all you’re capable of these days. The last few weeks have been nothing but stipid decision after stupid decision, your absolute stupidest decision leading you to this exact moment.

You should’ve never slept with John Price. You should’ve known, should’ve recognized his face, but you’d been a little tipsy and a little desperate, and hadn’t connected the very common name John with the very well known criminal John Price. 

No, that had come the next morning, when you’d woken up before him and been able to really take a look at him, completely sober. Him and the gun in its holster resting on his folded pile of clothes.

You should’ve recognized him long before then, and you should’ve turned tail and run. You shouldn’t have let him buy you a drink, you shouldn’t have let him coax you into dumping all your troubles onto him, and you certainly shouldn’t have slept with him. 

You’d left before he could wake up and say God knows what, fear pumping through your veins at the realization of who you’d slept with. You’d nearly knocked yourself out trying to get dressed, almost fallen on top of him before you managed to stumble out of the hotel room he’d bought for you.

Everyone knows John Price. No one ever really bothers to detail why he’s dangerous, but they all seem confident he is. You’re a recent transfer to the area, and you still haven’t been able to get anyone to really say why they always whisper when they say his name.

What you do know about him is that every few weeks, almost routinely, you hear that he’s been arrested. Then two or three days later, like clockwork, it’s announced that he’s escaped, always thought to be “armed and dangerous”. His mugshots are shown on TV enough that it’s truly surprising you hadn’t recognized him at the bar. 

You always figured you’d never run into him. You don’t exactly lead a life of crime, don’t exaclty put yourself in harm’s way. You work a boring nine to five job, have dinner with friends every couple weeks, occasionally meet up with someone from a dating app, and never really stray from that. Had he not happened to be in the same bar as you, you never would’ve met him, never would’ve slept with him, and never would’ve been hunting him down now, weeks later.

Hell, you might not have even slept with him had you not just been stood up by what was supposed to be a first date on the same day you’d lost out on a promotion. But a few shots, that loneliness that grows more and more familiar every day, a simmering frustration in your career, and a handsome man are not a good combination for your self control. 

But you had slept with him, had been especially stupid and not even worn protection - something you’d only really noticed the next morning, when you felt… him still leaking from you, saw that there was no condom wrapper.

And now here you are - stood in that same run down bar you’d first met him in, wearing an old hoodie and your favorite sweatpants, three positive pregnancy tests tucked in your front pocket.

You try to take a deep breath.

You really don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve been running on autopilot since you realized you might be pregnant, the time between buying tests and taking them a blur. Even now, you’re running on instinct alone. Instinct tells you to find John Price, and tell him about… this.

You can figure everything else out after. 

You scan the crowd, hoping to spot him quickly. You know he owns the bar - something you’d found out once you’d gotten home and fallen deep into a rabbit hole and read everything about the man you could find. You’re not sure how he still owns the bar considering he’s got multiple warrants out for his arrest, but you figure it’s probably the same reason he never actually ends up in jail.

But he’s not here now. At least, not anywhere you can see.

You step up to the bar, rest your elbows on the counter and rest your head in your hands, taking a few long, stablizing breaths.

“What can I get for ye?”

You glance up at the sudden voice, coming face to face with the bartender. It’s not the same man as last time - this man’s got a Scottish accent and a mohawk, a far cry from the darker skinned British man with pretty eyes who’d served you last time.

“Do you…” you glance around again, sigh, and decide you should try and find somewhere to compose yourself a bit. “Do you guys have a bathroom I could use?”

“Course,” he smiles at you, open and friendly, and you feel some of the tension ease from your shoulders. “Just ‘round that corner there, a few doors down. Can’t miss it.”

You give him a tight smile, mutter your thanks as you head in the direction he’d gestured. His directions are exactly right, the women’s bathroom door towards the end of the hallway but clearly marked.

Just past the bathroom doors is a stairwell. The door is half open, but you can clearly see the stairs even halfway down the hallway. You’re not sure why, but you walk right past the bathrooms, ducking into the stairwell instead after shooting a quick look over your shoulder to make sure no one saw you. 

It’s nearly silent, the music from the bar growing more and more muffled as you start to make your way to the next floor. It’s even quieter once you reach your destination, just a distant and faint rumbling in the floorboards.

You step out into a hallway with four doors - two of them with nameplates nailed to them. Stepping close, you see one is labeled Simon Riley and the other reads John Price.

Before you can consider whether or not you’re making another stupid decision you’re knocking on the door with Price’s name. 

You regret it the moment your knuckles rap against the wood, can’t believe you keep doing such stupid things without thinking.

Before you can even get a step away from the door, there’s a voice calling out from inside the room.

“Come in.”

Your breath hitches. 

You can’t leave now. There’s no way he wouldn’t come to the door, see who knocked. You’re not about to ding dong ditch John Price, but that doesn’t make it any easier to move forward. You only manage it because you feel oddly exposed in the hallway, and your nerves urge you forward enough to open the door.

You shut it quickly behind you, eager for privacy for some reason you can’t quite pin down. Listening to your instincts regardless, you keep your back pressed to the closed door and shove one hand in your pocket to wrap around the pregnancy tests.

John looks… mostly the same, which only makes you feel even more foolish for not recognizing him on the night that started this whole mess.

His beard’s a bit longer, but he’s got a button up and that silly hat on, the same thing he’d been wearing the first night you saw him. It’s almost like you’re yanked back to that night without warning, the only real difference being the fact that he’s sat behind a desk instead of beside you.

“Oh,” he says, looking oddly unsurprised as he leans back in his chair, hands lacing over his stomach. “It’s you. My little runaway.”

You scowl, your trepidation immediately replaced with anger. 

“First of all,” you hiss, scowling and moving towards his desk, the twitch at the corner of his lips only working you up further. “I’m not your anything. And I didn’t run away.”

His lips curve into a fuller smile, and he shifts his chair back enough for you to see his thighs, thick and bulging against his tight pants. He’s manspreading in his own office chair, and you have to swallow thickly when you realize just how attractive it is.

When you glance back to his face and see the distinctly smug expression he’s wearing, your ire only grows.

“Not sure what else you’d call it,” he rumbles. “Was hoping to spend a little more time with you, love, but you were gone before we could set up a date.”

You instinctively go to bite back, but stumble a bit when what he’d said settles. The idea that he’d been disappointed when he woke up alone, that he wanted more time with you…

You shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter, you have more important things to discuss.

You force yourself to straighten, fingers toying with the tests in your pocket. Your nerves return now that you’re really face to face with John again, now that you’ve got to actually figure out how to tell him. 

He seems to sense the shift in your mood, leaning forward so he’s not sprawled out so casually and resting his forearms on his desk.

“Why’re you here, love?”

This is it, you think to yourself, closing your eyes to take a deep, stablizing breath.

You tug the pregnancy tests out of your pocket, drop them wordlessly in front of him. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, to watch his expression as he slowly looks down at your offering, watch as realization washes over him.

John’s silent for a long moment. Your palms sweat, and you just barely resist the urge to wipe them off on your pants.

Finally, he looks back up at you, shifting in his chair. “You’re sure?”

You hesitate, nod a bit. “There are… I took more, at home. Didn’t want to bring them all.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “And it’s mine?”

You flush, face going hot. You know it’s a fair question, but you can’t help but bristle anyway. 

“Yes,” you hiss, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t… I didn’t…” You cut yourself off, the words you were my first trapping themselves behind your teeth. You hadn’t meant to lose your virginity to John Price, and you see no need to tell him you even had. As far as you’re concerned, you can keep that knowledge to yourself. “It’s yours.”

He doesn’t look convinced, and that only makes your face go hotter. You fight the urge to tuck your hands beneath your armpits, determined not to shrink in front of this man.

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” you elaborate, eyes flicking away from his face.

He takes a deep breath, exhales in a loud sigh. You hear his fingers tap against the desk, just barely bite back your annoyance at the sound. You work your tongue between your teeth, nerves racing again.

“Well,” he eventually says, standing from his chair. You can’t help but jolt a bit, having forgotten just how big he is. He towers over you even from a few feet away, his broad shoulders and barrel chest only making him feel twice as large. It’s a conscious effort on your part not to take a step back. “I hope you weren’t too attached to your apartment, love.”

He stalks around the desk, walking towards the door, but you can’t move from your spot. Your eyebrows furrow, and you track him with your eyes.

“My apartment? What’re you talking about?”

He shoots you a look, one you have no idea how to interpret, as he tugs his door open. “Simon!”

“John,” you hiss, stepping closer to him again. “What’re you-?”

He holds a hand up to quiet you as the other door opens, and you can just barely spot another man stepping forward. “Yeah?”

“Need you to call some movers. Need to get my girl moved into my place.”

You gape like a fish as the new man leans to the side a bit to look where Price is gesturing to you, and he nods. “Got it. Timeline?”

“Done by tonight.”

The other man grunts, and leaves again. John closes the door, turning back to you and starting back to his desk.

���What- what the hell?” You splutter, mouth opening and closing in shock. “You can’t- you don’t even know where I live!”

John settles back into his chair and shoots you a look that you can clearly read - it’s nothing but unimpressed.

“Course I do, love. Did you think we wouldn’t be meeting again?”

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he turns to his computer, lips twitching into a smile.

“Of course we wouldn’t,” you try, hand resting on one of the chairs in front of the desk to steady yourself. “We only… we only slept together once. I didn’t even know who you were.”

He hums an agreement, typing. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t matter, you know now. And considering the other… developments,” he shoots a look to your belly, and you rest your free hand over the small curve protectively. “It’s best we get to know each other in far closer quarters, hm?”

“No,” you argue, trying to inject some sterness into your tone. “I’m not moving in with you, that’s ridiculous. I just… I only told you about the baby so you could be involved. Maybe pay some child support. But there’s no reason for anything more.”

He sighs heavily through his nose, giving you another of those unimpressed looks. “You’re tellin’ me you’d rather keep living on your own? Take care of yourself and my baby all on your own?”

You brows furrow. “My baby.”

“Our baby.”

“Whatever,” you huff, moving to sit in one of the chairs, slumping back. “I can’t move in with you. Just because we… slept together, once, doesn’t mean you can just boss me around like a minon.”

 “Oh, it was more than once, love,” he corrects, voice pitching lower. You force down a shiver, cheeks heating again. “And is it really bossing you around if it’s for the best?”

You shoot him your own unimpressed look. “Yes, of course it is.”

He shrugs, turning back to his computer. “Then I guess I am bossing you around. Regardless, Simon will have your belongings in one of my properties by tonight.”

You scowl, leaning forward enough to plant a hand on his desk. “Listen, John, I have a life. A perfectly nice apartment, a job I like, friends - you can’t just take me away from all of that just because we made a mistake!”

The quick glance he shoots you verges on scolding. “That’s exactly what I can do, and it’s exactly what I will do.”

He stands before you can reply, fixing his cuffs as he strides back to the office door.

“You can call your boss tomorrow to turn in your resignation,” he says over his shoulder, tugging the door open and already walking away, winking at you just before he disappears from your sight. “You won’t be working while carrying our baby.”

You gape at the spot where he just was, palms still slick with sweat. It takes you a moment to fully grasp what he’s just said, how the entire conversation has gone, but when you do you’re enraged.

“John!” You shout, storming after him, leaving the pregnancy tests behind. “Get back here, you insane man! That’s absolutely not happening!”

The sound of his low laugh echoing through the stairwell only pisses you off more. Your scowl feels etched into your face, and as you storm after John you vow to keep him from completely steam rolling your life.

If he thinks he’s going to just pluck you from your life and drop you in his with no fight, he’s got another thing coming. 

[imtryingbuck]

Happy Ending?

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Future Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader dates Steve but he’s not a good boyfriend

Word count: 967

Warnings: Angst. Steve not being a good boyfriend, low self-esteem, no smut but smut? Idk I’m sorry. Self-body hating – plus size reader.

A/n: pt 2&3 will be on Bucky’s masterlist

Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

You see the love of your life kissing Natasha. Then in the car she jokes about it being his first kiss in 70 years, he doesn’t correct her of course he doesn’t otherwise he’ll have to tell her he’s dating you. For the past 6 months. He tells you that it meant nothing and that they had to do it so they didn’t blow their cover. He takes you to bed has you on all fours and as he’s nearing his release, he says Natasha. You cry and he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in the backseat of the car next to Bucky Barnes, having to see the love of your life kissing the next best thing he’s going to get to Peggy Carter, her niece Sharon. You can’t say anything though as nobody knows you two are dating, still. He tells you it’s for your own safety but you know it’s not for that reason. You know he’s embarrassed of you, you’re not skinny. You’re fat. Overweight. Plus-size. However you want to put it you’re not skinny. You’re not perfect like Natasha or Sharon or any other woman he could have. He tells you he loves you in a whisper. He kisses you behind closed doors. Hell he doesn’t even touch you in-front of anyone. Yet you stay with him because you love him. 

Later that night he tells you he loves you and only you. You believe it. Your face gets pushed into the pillow, arse in the air and like last time as he’s about to get his release it’s not your name nor Natasha’s that slips past his pretty lips it’s Sharon’s. You cry, again.

You stay silent about the pain he keeps causing you because you are so afraid of being alone, so desperate to be loved by him or anybody for that matter. All you want is real love but you’re too scared to leave. The worst part is even Steve knows this. He knows how much you love him, and he knows himself that he could never love you, not really love you.

A few months goes by, and everything has calmed down so you decide to take him to meet your parents for the first time. He’s so nervous it’s actually cute. He meets your parents, brother and sister. Dinner goes by smoothly, Steve talks to your dad and brother about everything and anything whilst you’re in the kitchen talking to your mum and sister about how much of an amazing guy he is, how much you love him and how happy you are. Your mum tells you you’re absolutely glowing. The night comes to an end you’re sitting in the passenger seat eyes going from him to the stars in the sky, your happy for the first time in months. You both get home, and he tells you how incredible you are, says he wants to make love to you so you let him. Before you know it he flips you onto your hands and knees face being shoved into the fluffy pillows, your brains working overtime wondering which name is going to make its way out of his mouth. Your whole body is hurting because of how rough he’s being with you, your head hurts and your poor stupid heart is breaking all over again as he empties all his worth inside of you while the name he’s keep chanting like a prayer is that of your sister.

How you manage to do it is lost on you, but you push him off of you with what little strength you have left and make a beeline straight to the bathroom locking the door as quickly as you can, you stumble to the toilet in time to empty the contents out of your stomach. In the mist of being sick and crying you hear Steve pounding on the door pleading with you to let him in asking if he’s hurt you. Asking ‘what did I do wrong’ which is ironic as that’s the same question you’ve repeatedly asked yourself. You hug the toilet trying to get some kind of warmth from it.

But it doesn’t happen.

You fall asleep naked, face covered in tears on the cold bathroom floor. Steve falls asleep on the bedroom floor against the door.

The next morning you wake up sore with Steve knocking on the door telling you he has to leave on an important mission that he loves you and when he gets back you both can talk about why you ran off hiding in the bathroom. You remain stuck to the floor long after he’s left. 

You know you can’t keep doing this, going through the pain, blaming yourself for not being good enough for him. ‘You need to stop being scared of being alone’ you told yourself and finally after nearly a year of crying yourself to sleep every night you pick yourself off the tiled flooring and with timid steps you head into the bedroom. As you pack all your stuff into suitcases and bags you thought you’d be crying whilst doing this but no tears have made an appearance, you’re completely numb and done with everything. Walking around the apartment taking your things as you go you head to the front door and like a naive silly girl you’re arguing with yourself to put your stuff back and just wait for the love of your life to come home. ‘He loves you idiot’ even though you know it not to be true and with that and your broken heart you take a look around visibly seeing the good times that took place within those four walls, you walk out of the door and into the cold December morning.

You thought he was going to be your happy ending.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[rekino2114]

Mistletoe kisses with miu iruma

Holiday post #5

Pairing:miu iruma x male reader

A/n:I had a bunch of mistletoe ideas but it felt right to do one with miu

The loud sounds of metal crashing against metal could be heard coming from the ultimate inventor's lab, and inside the inventor herself could be seen working on something while the ultimate robot was standing behind her, helping her by passing tools and doing other tasks

"I apologize miu, but.....what are you making exactly?"

"Huh? Didn't I tell you?"

"No.....you grabbed me without explanation and dragged me into your lab"

"Oh"

Miu placed her goggles on her forehead and turned to look at kiibo

"I still dunno how to call it but it's gonna be great. It's basically a small robot that dispences a mistletoe wherever it's placed"

"That sounds......."

"Amazing I know, feel free to bask in my genius"

"......situational"

"Eh?"

"Why would you need that?"

"To kiss y/n duh!"

"I fail to understand how those two things are correlated"

"Did no one tell you? When two people are under the mistletoe they have to kiss"

"......why?"

"Fuck if I know, some weird tradition I guess. But I'm gonna use it to its full advantage to kiss y/n"

"Isn't he your boyfriend? Couldn't you just ask him?"

"........probably but it's just more traditional this way plus I get to show him my genius"

"I........see"

"Wish me luck"

Miu grabbed her invention and walked out of the door, she went to the room where she was planning to call you and started climbing on a stepladder she had, trying to set her invention on the ceiling

"Hm.......miu what are you doing?"

"EH!?"

Your sudden appearance caused miu to get distracted and fall off the ladder, so you went to help her

"Are you OK?"

You held out your hand to help her get up

"Y-yeah"

She grabbed your hand and stood up. She then kept holding it tightly and cleared her throat

"Anyway, look at that!"

She dramatically pointed her finger upwards while keeping her eyes closed, waiting for you to notice the mistletoe

"Oh cool is that another one of your inventions? What does it do?"

"Huh?"

The inventor opened her eyes and looked up to see that her invention had not dropped the mistletoe like she programmed it to do

"S-seriously? what the fuck is wrong with it now?"

Miu stopped holding your hand and started climbing the ladder again before pulling a screwdriver out of her skirt pocket, beginning to thinker with the machine

"Is everything OK miu?"

"Yeah don't worry, it's just this stupid thing doesn't wanna wor- ah! Finally geez"

You watched as a small mistletoe came out of the machine's opening, a small blush spreading through your cheeks because of your understanding of your girlfriend's intentions

"I-is that a mistletoe?"

Miu made her way down the stepladder and stood in front of you again, smiling smugly

"It sure as hell is, I think you know what that means"

".........wait so you seriously made a whole invention to drop a mistletoe instead of just putting it yourself?"

"...t-that's not important, just kiss me dammit"

You giggled and grabbed miu's hands

"If that's what my gorgeous genius girlfriend wants"

You pressed your lips to miu's. Her eyes sparkled as she felt you kissing her, so she started hugging you tightly and kissing you much more passionately, putting all her tongue into it before pulling back to catch a breath

"Oh shit that was good"

"You say that every time we kiss"

"Cause every time it feels good, you should be proud, I'm praising you after all"

"I guess"

You tried to get out of miu's grip but she just held you tighter in response

"Hey where do you think you're going? We're not finished"

"But we kissed?"

"Yeah but the mistletoe is still there"

"That's......not how it works"

"So? Come on just kiss me more, I spent all night working on that and you're gonna leave me with just one measly kiss"

"You didn't have to build it in the first place"

"Just shut up and kiss me"

She suddenly pulled you closer to her and started making out with you passionately. After a moment of hesitation, you kiss back and you two stay in that moment for a while before pulling back again

"OK, your kisses are great so I guess I could give you some more"

"You better, cause we're staying here for a long time"

She says with a teasing smirk before starting your third and certainly not last make out session of the day

[acc--deactivated]

𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧

„you like it?“

your voice is a siren's call, your eyes a sinful curse and he can not help himself when he grabs you

synopsis: the boys reacting to you wearing swimwear

featuring: shigaraki tomura, dabi, takami keigo

cw: vaginal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, praise, mirror sex, possessive behaviour, public, name-calling, creampie, degradation

18+ content - MDNI

───────────────────

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

he forgets to breathe for a few seconds when you walk out of the changing rooms, absolutely starstruck by your appearance. your skin is glistening in the setting sun, shoulders, thighs and cheeks shimmering a little with the sunscreen you put on and his eyes are glued to the tight swimsuit hugging your curves, clinging impossibly tight to your skin.

it makes it so hard for him to look at your face, the smile you give him and he doesn't know what to say when you ask him if everything is fine.

he just scoffs at you, turns his body and his gaze away before he can stare any longer and loses complete control over the immense pressure building between his legs.

sitting it out, however, is not an option, he quickly realizes.

the peaks of your breasts shimmer through the fabric of the swimsuit after you and toga take a dip in the water and he has to lean his head back, taking a rather deep breath as he stares straight into the sun, wishes to turn blind for a while so that he would finally fucking stop staring at you.

but before he can keep on burning his eyes away, he hears your voice, close in front of him. and when he looks at you, you smile at him again, soft and sweet and brighter than the stupid sun and your swimsuit is still wet and clinging to you and he thinks he's going insane.

what the hell is he even doing in this place, standing in the sun, wearing nothing but swim shorts like a fucking idiot?

just because you suggested to go to the beach and the rest of the league cheered because all of them know he can not deny you any wish. because you're a cunning little vixxen that has him wrapped around its finger.

and you look at him just like that, a sweet little thing, with soft eyes and long lashes, only the light slyness in your smile a hint that you might be aware of the effect you have on him.

„you wanna get a drink with me, tomura? the others want to stay in the water.“

he furrows his brows, narrows his eyes a little as he observes you, tries to decide if spending more time by your side will relieve his ache or make it worse.

he already knows the answer, but he thinks about it anyway.

„you got a set of two healthy feet. you can go on your own.“

you shrug your shoulders, lightly fluttering your lashes at him.

„i could, but i don't want to.“

there it is again, something that you want, or in this case, don't want. and he can not say no to you, can't pull his eyes away from you and goes with you as you turn your body to walk through the mass of people.

you don't get drinks, simply pass the gastronomy area a little further behind the shore and eventually, you find yourself on the other, unoccupied side of the beach, right behind some small huts used for storing boats.

neither of you knows who starts moving first, and it doesn't matter in the end. all that matters is his mouth on yours, his lips bruising yours in harsh, desperate kisses and his hands roaming your body, partially gloved fingers of each hand greedily digging into your soft skin, trying to pull you even closer.

he growls into your mouth, grinds against you as he pushes you against the wall of the hut, his fingers sliding over your thighs, your hips, your waist, your ribcage, stealing more of your breath, making you whine against his lips.

his fingers never stop, restless and eager on your skin and you gasp in surprise when he hooks them into the suit seam curving beneath your arm, pulling it towards your sternum to release one of your breasts, not hesitating to repeat the gesture on the other side.

the feeling of the spandex digging into the skin of your cleavage and the sudden exposure of your body only increases the heat inside of you and you can not help the slightly louder whine that leaves you as soon as his fingers grab your breasts, kneading the flesh in a rough, yet pleasuring way, making you lean your head back with a shivering exhale.

„such a little slut, aren't you? giving in to me so easily.“

his words are husked exhales, carried by a deep tone out of his chest while he leans forward, plants a few kisses against your exposed throat, before his teeth nip at the thin skin.

„bet you wanted this the entire time, didn't you? flashing so much skin in front of me, basically begging me to fuck you stupid.“

you whine at his words, can't even answer properly because he sadly isn't wrong. you'd have to lie if you said you didn't crave his attention the entire day, his eyes lingering on your body in a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

his left hand stays at your chest, fingers teasingly rolling against its peak and making you shudder once more in pure bliss, while his right strays down, over the area of the suit covering your stomach, your lower body, your pubic bone.

and then his fingers pull the elastic textile to the side, push against your centre and the wetness clinging to your skin.

„fuck, look at you, all ready and dripping for me.“

your answer consists only of a strangled breath, one that quickly peaks into a little squeal when he roughly shoves two of his fingers into you, starts thrusting up into the warmth of your wonderfully soft walls, creating a rhythm of slick sounds whenever his knuckles meet your skin.

„i'm gonna make you feel real good, baby.“

his words sound like threat and promise at the same time and you can not tell if the smirk on his lips is caused by anticipation or pure sadism, can't even bring yourself to think much about it while his fingers thrust into you, hit you in the most perfect way, make your knees tremble.

„gonna fuck you just how a slut like you needs it when we're back in the hideout.“

your heart jumps at that, the imagination of him grabbing you, filling you, taking you however he wants filling you with anticipation.

you feel so close, barely feel how you dig your nails into the pale skin of his shoulders, hold onto him because you are not sure if your legs are even able to carry you. and just when you part your lips to beg him not to stop, to never stop because his fingers fill you so perfectly, they suddenly slide out of you, leave you empty and shaking.

he comments your pleading whine with a grin, before he grabs your chin between his fingers again, pulls you in until your mouth is hovering against his, his eyes simmering down onto you.

„i'll finish that later when you're stuffed with my cock. have to keep you a little bit excited, don't i?“

the slight pout you give isn't enough to convince him to continue, only makes his smirk widen while he looks down onto you.

„on your knees.“

even though the words are barely more than deep breaths, his voice sounds so deep, coming so deep from his throat and sending shivers down your spine.

you look up into his eyes, contact never ending as you slowly slide down, rest your knees in the sand beneath you and run your right hand up his thigh, slightly pulling yourself closer towards him.

his skin smells of sunscreen and sand and the scent lulls you in while you lean your cheek against his thigh, gently nuzzling his skin, still looking up at him while your middlefinger hooks into the hem of his shorts, slightly tugging at the textile.

pleasant contentment fuels the grin on his lips and you feel your heart skip a beat again when he runs his fingers through your hair, nods at you in demand, encouraging you to go on.

so you do, use your right hand to pull down his shorts, while the left caresses his thigh, fingertips drawing impatient circles on his skin.

biting your lip, you run your eyes over his cock, feel yourself squirming again at the thought of having him inside you.

the sound of your name makes you look back to him again and you hum a little at the way he slides his fingers through your hair, eventually lightly grips onto them.

„better hurry up, sweet thing. we don't want anyone finding you in such an embarrassing situation, don't we?“

you only shake your head in soft submission, before you raise your hand to wrap it around him, hear a little gasp from him at the touch and the sound makes you so giddy and excited that you can not help but wrap your lips around him, slowly sliding him over your tongue.

he tastes of saltwater and shower gel and you can not help but hum as you look up at him with soft doe eyes, watch him tremble and gasp a little when you suck on him.

it doesn't take long for him to start guiding your head, fingers mercilessly holding onto your hair, moving you against him in a fluent, but pleasant pace.

the way he slides down your throat feels like heaven and you whimper around him, spit and precum collecting in your mouth, slipping past your lips, starting to run down your chin.

you feel so dirty and so pretty at the same time, feel so so good and right with his cock inside your mouth, like this is your sole purpose of existing.

and you can not help but chirp in joy when tomura lets out a deep, guttural groan, a shiver going through him at the way you slide your tongue around his tip.

„yeees, just like that, baby. knew you'd be good at this.“

his words slither into your bloodstream, make you clench your thighs and hum again when his grip around your hair tightens and he slowly builds up his pace, a small sample of how rough he'll be once the two of you get back to the hideout.

DABI

he doesn't even manage to keep his fingers to himself, doesn't manage to wait for you two to arrive at the beach, his patience thin like a thread whenever he sees your bikini set shine through the white textile of your oversized shirt.

even though he picked it out for you, you didn't allow him to take a look at it yet, just for the sake of teasing.

it frustrates him, almost pisses him off that he can only get a veiled peek at the thin textile beneath your shirt. but above all that, it makes his dick unbearably hard.

just as the two of you are on your way to the beach, already hear the chatters of other people your age partying and drinking, he suddenly grabs your hand, pulls you into a public bathroom near the shore and quickly makes work on the door to keep it closed, before he fists his fingers around some strands of your hair, pulling you into a rough kiss.

despite your surprise, the buzzing of adrenaline in your body, you allow yourself to melt into him, don't even bother to check if the stalls around you two are empty.

dabi's fingers quickly slip beneath your shirt, pull it over your head to reveal your bikini set, to finally see what exactly he picked out for you there. he didn't deem it possible, but you look even hotter in it than he imagined, the thin textile of the thong sitting perfectly on your hips, the harness-inspired strings of the top digging into your skin.

when he notices how you bite your lip, gently move both of your hands to trail your fingertips over the textile sitting between your breasts, he thinks he's about to lose it.

„you like it?“

your voice is a siren's call, your eyes a sinful curse and he can not help himself when he grabs you, turns your body to push you against the sink of the bathroom, makes you look at your reflected self in the mirror.

his mouth rests against your ear, husks out „how could i not like it? knew this would look perfect on you“, while his fingers slip between your legs, draw circles around your clit that make you lean your head back against his shoulder, a blissful sigh escaping your lips.

„play with your tits, baby. show me how good you feel like this.“

his words force a trembling breath out of you, before you loosen your hands from the edge of the sink and start to trail your fingers to your breasts, slipping beneath the cups of the top piece and kneading the sensitive flesh, rolling their peaks between your fingertips, while he keeps on rubbing your clit, makes you tremble against him.

„shit, look at you, looking like a fucking goddess.“

he slips two of his fingers into you, makes you arch your back against him, makes you send a high moan to the ceiling while his eyes keep on staring into yours in the mirror.

„guys on the beach are gonna drool over you, gonna look at nothing but you. pathetic fucking losers who wish they could fuck a girl like you.“

his low words echo in your head, trail through your throat, through your belly, end up spilling from your middle, sweet wetness coating his fingers and you can't take it anymore, start moving your hips to meet the thrusts of his hand.

„want your cock- dabi, please-“

his breath heaves at your words and he doesn't hesitate to push down his shorts, doesn't hesitate to push you forward, make you lean over the sink and place your hand on the mirror for support while he runs his cock through the wetness of your centre a few times, teasingly slipping past your entrance and making you whine as you give him a begging look in the mirror.

and then he pushes into you, stuffs you so fast and so full that you can't help but arch your back, fingers holding onto the sink for support as he bullies his cock into you over and over again, his mouth still resting on your ear, his heavy breaths making you shiver.

„maybe i'll fuck you a second time at the beach later, in front of everyone, showing everyone that you're my little slut, showing everyone that they don't have a chance with you.“

you can not help the smile spreading on your lips at his words, the amused exhale that mixes with a lovely whimper when his rapid thrusts hit your g-spot and his fingers grab your hair, lightly pulling your head back.

„you'd like that, wouldn't you? would love to show everyone how much of a whore you are.“

you manage to nod, push your body further against his, make him slip deeper into you and force a deep growl from his chest.

„hmmhm, i'd love that. wanna show everyone that i'm yours.“

your whimpers seem to be appealing enough for him, given the way his fingers slide out of your hair and down your spine. his eyes are still staring into yours in the mirror, hooded by his long lashes when he lightly dips his head, pushes a kiss against your bare shoulder.

his hand ends up resting on your hip, holding you steady, before the other one reaches around your body, indexfinger finding your clit in a trained, nonchalant movement.

the touch sends a shock through your body, forces a higher whine out of you and you feel your legs shaking, knees trembling beneath his thrusts as you stand on your tip toes, desperate to keep up the position that makes him slide so wonderfully deep into you.

„want your cum leaking out of me, want everyone to see it running down my thighs“

his answer to your whimpers is a deep, throaty chuckle that makes your lower body boil even more, almost makes your eyes roll back when he rubs your clit a little harder.

a gasp breaks from your throat when his hand looses from your waist, comes down on your ass in a slap instead. the stinging sensation mingles with your arousal, makes your already sensitive nerves burn.

„fucking hell, i buy you new swimwear and you wanna ruin it within the first hour of wearing it. ungrateful little slut.“

his heavy voice mixes with the wet sounds of his thrusts echoing through the room and you feel your own liquids run down the insides of your legs, the sensation only making you feel hotter, making you grip the sink even harder as you feel your own orgasm approaching.

stars start flickering in your brain, the air feels heavier around you and you feel your eyes fluttering, your sanity slowly melting beneath the way he keeps on circling your clit.

„gonna fill you so fucking good, just like you want it, baby.“

his voice trembles a little along with his breath, makes you let out a whimper fueled by pure love as you run your eyes over his face in the mirror, the way he grits his teeth, scrunches his eyebrows and tenses his jaw.

and then a deep growl surges from his throat, his nails dig into the flesh of your ass, hold you as steady as possible on your trembling legs while he roughs up his thrusts for a few last times, before he stops and pushes you even further against the sink, his body pressed so close to you that you find yourself gasping, the pressure of his finger against your clit so much that you can not take it anymore.

you let out a little yell, your brain buzzing with euphoria as little spasms go through your body, almost knock you off your feet. you feel so full with him, feel his heat inside of you and you think you could come again, can't help but sigh in bliss when he gently runs his nose over your neck, makes you shiver and arch your back again when you feel his breath against your ear, find his eyes still glaring deeply into yours in the glass of the mirror.

„there you go. stuffed nice and full, darling.“

trying to breathe, you still feel your body spasming around his cock, unable to pull your eyes away from him.

the little „thank you, dabi“ you let out causes a smirk to spread on his lips.

in that moment, dabi decides that the next thing he'll buy for you will be a new set of lingerie, just for the sake of tearing it off of you.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

you know exactly what effect you have on him, how to make him breath and speechless.

and he knows you're playing with him, knows that you're not as innocent as you act when you loosen the band of your bikini top on your back, turn to look at him over your shoulder.

„keigo? can you help me with the sunscreen?“

your voice is honey-sweet, eyes soft and wide and his gaze immediately trails to the middle of your back, where all of your skin is revealed, a paradise of sweet flesh offered to him.

he doesn't hesitate to nod, walk over towards you and stop in front of the large towel you sit on, looking up at him with an expression that can only be described as satisfied.

it makes him lick his lips, unable to keep a smile off of them.

“sure, sweetheart.”

you hand him the bottle with sunscreen, in a slow, seductive manner, your fingertips gently gracing his skin, eyes constantly locked with his.

only when you move your body, stretch your legs to lay down on your stomach, your gazes break apart and keigo's eyes trail over your neck and your spine, your lower back and behind, the thin strings holding the lower piece of your bikini on your body.

he imagines simply undoing the knots resting on your waist, thinks about hoisting up your hips and lowering his body onto yours to sink into your sweet warmth, despite the few other people resting on their towels a little further away from you, despite the sun burning down onto his back and his wings.

but instead, he pours sunscreen into his palms and slightly rubs them against each other, before resting them on your shoulder blades, making you hum a little at the contact as you cross your arms on the towel, resting your head on it.

the heels of his hands move in soft, massaging circles over your back, beneath your shoulder blades and your spine, further and further down.

his mind slowly starts spinning as his palms rest on your ass and he hears the little gasp you let out at the touch.

no matter how much he'd love to keep his hands there in that exact spot, on soft, sunkissed flesh, he trails them back up to your lower back, continues his massage there before forcing himself further up.

it's a tease for the both of you, you hold your breath every time his fingers trail down and you can not help but smile before raising your voice.

“i actually just needed you to put on sunscreen. didn't know i'd get a massage for free.”

keigo snickers, shifts his weight a little while he kneels over your thighs, slightly leaning forward.

“don't act like you make me do this for the sunscreen, baby.”

a certain darkness is grounded in his voice and it makes you hold your breath, makes your heart skip a beat. you feel how his wings throw shadows over your body as he spreads them a little, feel a little shiver going through you at the lack of sunlight.

and just as you become aware of the fact that his feathers shield you a little from the view of other people on the beach, both of his hands trail back to your hips, fingers playing with the strings of the lower bikini piece.

a chuckle is caught in your throat, comes out as a gasp instead when his hand cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers.

“trying to seduce me in the middle of a beach... you're so naughty.”

his words make you clench your thighs a little, make you aware of the wetness between your legs and you press your lips together, kiss your teeth while his hands keep on massaging your skin, long fingers spreading and grabbing your ass, his thumbs slowly drawing circles inward, slowly moving further to the spot where you need it, crave it.

lightly lifting your torso onto your elbows, you lean your head back a little, a soft smile curving your lips.

“and? is it working?”

you feel him shift, feel how his wings bury you further in their shadows as he slightly leans in closer towards your body.

“take a wild guess.”

his voice is so deep, so sinful and you clench your fingers, try to bear the rush of arousal that floods your veins and your brain. yet before you are able to calm down, his right thumb pushes away the textile between your legs, pushes directly against your slit and forces you to catch a whine behind your teeth.

an exhaled chuckle echoes behind you, rumbling deep and full from his chest.

“be quiet for me, yeah? I know you can do that.”

his thumb slips into you as the last word still echoes in your ear, easily, with no resistance. you hear the wet sound as your body welcomes the anticipated and desired intrusion, can't help but sigh in bliss when he builds up a slow rhythm by sliding in and out of you.

“oh, shit- keigo-”

you push your mouth against your arm, bring up all of your willpower to keep the noises inside, to enjoy in silence, no matter how much you'd love to show him how good he makes you feel.

his thumb slides in to the knuckle of his hand, a slow and steady rhythm that already has you seeing stars, while the palm of his other hand lightly keeps on massaging your back, makes you melt right into the towel beneath your body.

“you picked that swimwear on purpose, didn't you? wanted me to do this to you, huh?”

his voice is calm and placid as he speaks, the movements of his fingers steady and dedicated, a stark contrast to your shivering and gasping state.

his thumb slips out of you and before you can protest, can beg him to continue the fulfilling feeling, his index and middlefinger slide into you, fierce and deep, immediately curling, reaching for the spot that has your body writhing, your back arching.

your hips snap, twitch upwards, more into the feeling, but his other hand quickly rests on your tailbone, pushes you back down, holds you there while his fingers pick up their pace, low, wet sounds echoing in your ears by the pressure of his fingers against your walls.

“hey, hey, no squirming baby. we don't want anyone to know what we're doing here.”

his low voice is like wax on your spine, trickling hot and dangerously down your whirls, making you feel so warmer against his touch and beneath the summer sun.

you feel how he leans in slightly closer towards you, feel how the sudden proxamity makes your breath hitch.

and the way he husks a “don't we?” out into your neck doesn't help with that, makes you melt further into the towel and the sand, makes you aware that you are basically drenching his fingers in your juices, unable to control the immense wetness between your legs.

you shake your head at his question, feel your eyes flutter, your heart skip a beat and your breath stall in your throat when he reaches your g-spot, keeps on fingering you into oblivion right there in the middle of the bench, his shielding wings the only thing allowing you to roll your eyes back, not having to hide the heat in your face and aroused expression in your features.

[bugiseverywhere]

this song got me thinking of Prohero!Katsuki x ObsidianQuirk!Reader… who keeps dragging him into her little games of toying with the law.. and his thoughts.

Reader isn’t a notorious villain or anyone too special, but they have a pretty neat quirk that they like to put to use every now and then. As long as they get a laugh out of it, really. They can manipulate magma from the earth and utilize it to their liking, including hardening the elements within the material and creating obsidian structures. It’s not overly noticeable if it’s not used to its full potential, and it can easily exhaust them if used to much, but what’s wrong with a little fun here and there?

Recently, some gangs of low end scumbags have been committing crimes around katsuki’s patrolling grounds- childish stuff like stealing money and merchandise from gas stations and small businesses and trying to run away after. However, upon reaching the scene of these crimes, the criminals are already knocked out and tied up by some, what looks like obsidian chain link, but the even more annoying part? Everything the tied up criminals attempted to steal on their own is completely missing, plus a few extra items here and there.

…weird.there’s no hero that he’s aware of that has a quirk capable of doing that, and if there was why hasn’t it been reported that they would be in his area? Also what hero captures people and then walks away with valuables?

This continues for a couple weeks, and it starts to drive the hero into frustration.

Until that is, today.

It was time for the hero to end his patrol and head back to the agency when he heard some commotion ahead. Picking up his pace, katsuki was ready to catch whoever was around the corner when he came face to face with Reader. Laughing softly at the group of teenage boys in front of her, two of them were already knocked out and were currently being tied up in that familiar chain the pro has been busting blood vessels over.

The last standing of the group, dropped everything, running in the opposite direction before being completely knocked sideways by readers quirk and drug towards the rest of the boys on the ground.

“Alright! $250 that’s not bad, time to get the fuck outta he-“

Bending down to collect the random number of snacks and money the boys had previously taken from the gas station down the road, reader looked up.

Katsuki stood before her, completely dumbfounded.

A girl has been doing this? Seemingly about his age- and that quirk..is she a criminal too? She was going to just walk away with stuff!! Who could she be- she’s a decently attractive girl at first glance.. actually scratch that, she’s almost exactly his type in looks-

“This is awkward..uhm- Dynamight right?”

oh.. she knows who he is?.. well of course, he’s pretty known in the public and if she’s been knocking these thugs out and also stealing their stuff, she’s got to be aware of heros…but why is his heart fluttering a bit when she said his name, and why does he feel kind of intimidated right now?… uhm actually why are his legs not moving right now-

“Who the hell are you-“

“Y’know I would love to chat about all of this but I kinda don’t feel like being arrested today so I should get going!”

she used her quirk on him. She completely trapped his legs in her stupid fucking obsidian bullshit, and now she’s running off with money that isn’t hers, and leaving five knocked out idiots behind.

“HEY! WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU-“

Blasting out of her obsidian hold he darted around the corner to find her completely out of sight.

-

-

-

Weeks pass and Katsuki is still thinking about Reader. He’s even gone as far as requesting security footage from the local shops where recent crimes have taken place. He’s spent hours analyzing her quirk and trying to find any information he can about her through the static and choppy imaging.

After he couldn’t get much information himself, he sent his secretary to the commission office to get as much information about her as possible. The next morning, a stack of documents were placed on his desk.

(Y/N) (L/N)

Quirk : Obsidian Manipulation

Working Status : Retired Undercover Hero

Hero Name : Igneous

[Headshot]

a retired undercover hero? she’s so young though.. why would she be retired already-

“sir, you’re 2:00 is ready for you in the conference hall.”

“K.”

Katsuki takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. He’s got more important things he should be focusing on…not some criminal- no, ex undercover hero.. okay, an ex undercover hero who knocks thugs out but steals valuables- who has a decently good quirk and looked kinda attractive when she used it-

oh,

how the mighty fall…

(in love)

I rushed this but OH MY GAWD. I am obsessed with a dumbfounded very interested katsuki x kinda bad influence but also not horrible person reader. PLEASE, give me your thoughts + add on’s I want to expand this so bad. My head is SPINNING 😫🤌