#i started losing so much more sleep and I was just reaching the end of my ropes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 5 months ago

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SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp.

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you."

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out."

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat."

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser.

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties.

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance.

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea.

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise.

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question.

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way.

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run.

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more.

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece.

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties.

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide.

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge.

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you.

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers.

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed.

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit.

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes.

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his.

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need.

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out.

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want.

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control.

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you.

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver.

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting.

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls.

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips.

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes.

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again.

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch.

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for.

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust.

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible.

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought.

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls.

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him.

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

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hyperfixiation-station · 4 months ago

Text

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him.

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face.

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room.

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you.

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.”

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable” and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you.

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments.

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around.

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge?

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies.

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in.

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound.

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening.

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out.

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies.

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again.

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #angst #no beta we die like men #Behind enemy lines

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venomvalley · 4 months ago

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FEED ME!

PART III: MILK AND COOKIES ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 4.7k words

SUMMARY: The third trimester.

TAGS: 18+ (oral and fingering, both receiving). fluff. happy ending.

NOTES: this is the last chapter and im so sad about it. already working on an epilogue i love these two so bad

-> READ ON AO3 | 1 / 2 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Sevika is officially at a loss. She's never experienced this kind of… affection before, and maybe it’s a pregnancy thing, but you just won’t leave her alone. Constantly touching her, talking to her, following her around both the apartment and the streets like you can't bear to be apart.

It's weird. Terrifying, as much as she hates to admit it. Because she actually likes it. Has gotten a taste of what she's been missing, and she can't get enough.

Her favorite moments are when you join her in bed, all sleepy and grumbling. Smelling like her soap, wearing her clothes, laying in her sheets. Hers. Hers.

She's never been able to say that.

You curl up against her side as best as your belly allows, cheek atop her shoulder, arm slung across her chest to play with her hair. She purrs like a cat, turns her head to give you better access to the strands that have grown a bit too long for her liking.

“Found a midwife while I was out yesterday,” she says. “She's probably delivered half the babies in the Undercity.”

You exhale a soft breath. “That's a relief.”

“We’re going tomorrow.”

The hand in her hair moves to shift her head toward you, touch light against the curve of her jaw.

Your eyes mist over with tears, and your chin dimples as you peer up at her. “Thank you, Sevika. I mean it. I'm grateful.”

She nods, leans forward to rest her lips against your forehead. “I know.”

You sleep in late the next morning, a new routine you’ve picked up over that last couple of weeks. Late enough that she has to wake you up for your unofficial appointment, and you sulk in bed for the better part of twenty minutes before finally getting up to start the day.

After a long walk, you reach the building belonging to the midwife. The woman that waves you inside oozes experience with her curly grey hair and deep-set wrinkles. A pillar of the community according to the women she spoke with (Sevika had to make sure that she would take good care of you, after all). Brought into the world half the kids walking around the Undercity. Stern but loving.

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. I’m Lyra.”

You smile in return and give her your own name, accepting the arm that the woman offers to help you onto the stoop.

Lyra orders Sevika to wait outside, says the exam shouldn’t take long. It makes her skin itch, the thought of leaving you alone with this stranger, but you give her one final, reassuring smile, and she knows she’s outnumbered.

Fine. She can wait. But she doesn’t have to be happy about it.

She spends her time smoking cigarettes and people-watching. The streets are busy this time of day, families passing through, couples holding hands. A father carries his daughter on his shoulders, her tiny hands curled beneath his chin, and she thinks of her old man. If he’d see the person she became and look upon her with pride. Maybe he’d tell her that he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, that his grief over losing her mother and brother corrupted him. That he fucked up big time with raising her the way he did.

As a teenager she was rebellious, desperate to free herself from under his thumb. Got into the wrong crowd more times than she can count. An unfortunate side effect of anger and impulse—a dangerous recipe she’s relieved she grew out of.

For the longest time, she was left with that anger. It never failed her, never broke her heart, never left her behind. It was safe.

Your presence hasn’t fixed everything in her life, but it’s softened her edges. Cured the loneliness that added fuel to the fire. And every day that passes means one less day she might have with you. She knows the kid is due soon, a month at most.

She can’t lose you like she lost her mother. But she’s in too deep to back out. Couldn’t if she tried.

Still, the thought terrifies her.

And although she’s never considered herself a good candidate for parenthood, for building a family in general, she’s accepted that she now has a kid to raise. A less scary prospect when it’s you she’s raising it—her—with. You’ll be a great mom, already are despite the circumstances.

When the front door creaks open, she shoves away from the wall and stamps out her cigarette, waving the smoke away (even though she stands at the corner of the building).

You step out with a wide smile and a new canvas bag looped around your arm, waving goodbye to Lyra. When the door closes, you spot her immediately, reaching for her hand as she walks over.

“How was it?” she asks, leading you out into the street.

“Good. Baby’s healthy, and she thinks I have a few weeks before I give birth.” Your unoccupied hand reaches around to rub at your back. “Praise Janna, ‘cause this kid’s getting heavy.”

“I’ll rub your back when we get home.” A second-nature offer, instinct at this point.

“Oh!” You squeeze at her hand, take a step in front of her to say, “Can we get some more sweetbread while we’re out? I’ve been craving some all day.”

Your eyes shimmer at the mention, and she fully expects you to start drooling at any moment.

“Yeah, we can.”

An expression of relief paints your face, and she can’t help the smile that stretches her lips. “I absolutely love you right now.”

Her heart explodes inside her chest. She wonders how deeply you meant it, then decides that she’d rather not find out. Better to exist within the realm of her own fantasy for a little while longer.

The kid’s due any day now, and you’re ready to lose your mind. She’s given more massages in the last few weeks than she ever has in her life. Every day introduces another thing for you to cry over. Sleeping is difficult, as is every other task.

But today, she touches your stomach for the first time. Lays a hand against the taut skin and registers the flutter of… something beneath her palm.

“Feel that? She’s kicking the shit out of me.”

She looks up at you with a raised brow. “Takes after her mom.” Says it just to watch you giggle and roll your eyes.

“I’m not that bad.”

“You have a lot more room than she does.”

This is her life now. A realization that catches her off-guard, stops her in her tracks, and your hand reaches over to comb through her hair as her entire world falls apart. Like her center of gravity has shifted—like there’s no gravity at all anymore.

“Hey. You okay?”

She looks up at you, brows furrowed in thought. “Yeah.”

Everything has changed, and soon, things will change even more. She’s already bribed a handful of lackeys to do her jobs the next few weeks, and she’s lost sight of the main goal. Can’t really pinpoint when the switch happened.

Except she can: the moment you grabbed her hand that night in the alley—the moment you dug yourself a home in her heart.

But she has a plan. Set you up in a quaint house in the better part of the city, get in touch with some old friends that could hire you on for some money, and continue her duties as Silco’s right hand. It’s selfish of her, wanting the best of both worlds, but maybe there doesn’t have to be an either/or. Maybe she can have both.

Maybe her old man was wrong.

(Shit, she's turning into Vander—the Vander who prioritized his kids before the good of the Undercity.

If she starts considering deals with Enforcers, she might as well hang it up.)

A soft kiss to her forehead as she lays her cheek on your shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

Nothing you need to concern yourself with.

She exhales a breath through her nose. “I’m not used to this. Being happy, I guess.”

“Me neither. It’s weird, isn’t it? The good kind.”

“We should move. Get a bigger place.”

“What, you don't like it here?”

The mocking grin you shoot her makes her lip curl. “No. I never have.”

You roll your eyes. “I was joking. I think it's a fantastic idea.”

“Later, then. After the kid comes.”

You press an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder, snuggling closer into her side. “Fine by me.”

When she gets home the next day after a chaotic morning of running around the docks, she finds you in bed with a large book and a pen.

“So. I got this today.” You hold it up to show her the covering, the letters embroidered in the black fabric.

“You sure you’re supposed to be holding something that heavy?” she asks, brows lowered as she walks up to the bed with an outstretched hand.

Lips twisting into a frown, you pull the book to your chest. “Not the point. Look at the title.”

100 BABY NAMES AND THE MEANINGS BEHIND THEM.

She exhales a laugh. “Where the hell did you find that?”

“Tayla brought it by. Gave us some free cookies, too.”

“Really? I didn’t see any.”

You glance away from her, lowering the book to your lap. “I might’ve indulged a little bit, but to be fair, I didn’t know how long you’d be gone.”

Something warm swirls in her chest. Affection—an emotion she welcomes with a small smile. “I told you I’d be back today.”

She takes a seat next to you on the bed, peering over your shoulder to the page below. You’re on the letter S now, some names underlined in pen.

You blow out a breath, tilting your head back to rest on her shoulder. “I need your help picking a name.”

“I'm not the creative type.”

“You don't have to be. The list is right here.”

In truth, she doesn't want to choose. It's not her kid, not her future to determine.

“You're her mom,” she says, quiet, words stained with a sadness she didn't realize she even had.

You fall quiet for a moment, picking at a corner of the page with your thumb.

“If you want, and only if you want, you can be in her life, too—”

She says your name with a resigned sigh.

You turn to look at her, a hand braced against her thigh. A searing brand even through the fabric of her pants. “I know we haven't talked about it, but… I don't expect you to take care of me forever, especially since I'm gonna have a baby. I just—”

“Stop.”

She hasn't talked about it because it isn't a conversation she wants to have. Confronting the inevitable means moving forward, and she doesn't want to. She wants to live in her little bubble where the Big Bad is defeated and she might actually get a happy fucking ending.

“I'm serious. You've done enough for me. She's my responsibility, not yours, but—”

“You both are. End of story.”

“I wanna be more than your responsibility, Sevika.”

At the hurt look on your face, the prickling of tears in your eyes, she panics. Backtracks as quick as she can. “No, you are. I didn't mean it like that.”

“Then I want you in her life. Taking care of her, teaching her, loving her the way you do me.” You rest a hand on her cheek, smile sad and watery. “The way I do you.”

She doesn't know what to say. If she can even form words right now from the way her tongue hardens to stone inside her mouth. But her heart tenders, dissolves at your words.

You love her. You actually love her. Stupid, naïve, weak woman.

She kisses you, soft and sweet. Cradles the back of your neck in her palm like you're the only thing keeping her world glued together.

“You mean that,” she mutters, nose brushing against yours, lips a ghosting touch against your own.

“That I love you?” She nods, and you grin. “Have you met yourself? How the hell could I not?”

She exhales a laugh. Relief relaxes the pouch of her lungs—relief and something a lot more sickly.

Fear. Can't remember the last time she's been loved, been open to it. So far beyond possibility's reach she couldn't grasp it if she tried. For most of her years alive, she hasn't even wanted it. At its very core, love is what killed her mother and destroyed her father from the inside out. It makes you weak, stupid, impulsive. Irrational. A word that has no business in her vocabulary.

So why, then, does the word seem so appealing when it's you?

“I would like for this… thing between us to last a while. But I don't want you to feel pressured into it.” You shrug. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

She exhales through her nose. Says, “So do I.”

You roam your eyes over her face, a soft smile stretching your lips, before you plant the book in her lap. “Pick. I've already underlined the ones that interest me.”

“And if it's a boy?”

“It won't be. I'm telling you, I sense it. The baby whispers to me in my dreams.”

She actually laughs at that. “That another pregnancy thing?”

“Yep. Now pick. Don't make me tell you again.”

With a raise of her brows (you already have the mom voice down), she turns to the page. Runs her finger over each underlined name, testing them on her tongue, before landing on:

Stella — ‘star’

“This one.”

You peer down at the one she chose, cheek squished against her arm. “Why that one?”

She pulls a face. “Well…” It reminds her of how you've been the brightest thing in her life thus far, and if everything goes to plan, the kid won't be limited to the cage of the Undercity–she'll have the whole universe at her fingertips. “I like the sound of it.”

You nod, slow and thoughtful. “Stella… Ste…lla. Stella.” A tilt of your head. “I like it. It's pretty.”

So are you, she wants to say, but she stays silent.

You're ready to pop this kid out.

Lyra stopped by yesterday, examined you behind the locked door of the bedroom, and said that it was time. Suggested a more… unorthodox method to induce labor.

(”Sex is the most natural thing in the entire world,” she had said, turning to Sevika with both hands on her hips and a deep frown. “Why do you act so surprised, dear?”)

You're a lot less open to the idea, no matter how ready you are to be done with pregnancy.

“I just don't understand how you could want me,” spoken softly, melancholic.

Sat on the bed, Sevika soothes a palm over your thigh. “What do you mean?”

“I mean physically. ‘Cause of the…” You motion to your stomach, and she shushes you with a kiss.

“I don't care. You're more than that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I want to help you.”

Your brows cant upward, a war waging in your brain as your eyes dart back and forth over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I'm sure.”

With a relieved breath, you nod your head. “Gods, please help me.”

Sevika is not soft, but she has to be with you. Wants to be.

You lay down in the sheets that smell so much like you and spend five minutes getting comfortable, fluffing the pillows behind you and removing clothes and adjusting your hips. You spread your legs and her first instinct is to bite, to scar the plump curve of your inner thigh, but she can't. Won't. Too much trust in the way your soft body blooms for her, fingers delicate on your full tits.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks. A loaded question—it isn't the act itself, but the person you've chosen for it. She wants to be seen as worthy after what you've been through.

“I've had the last ten minutes to change my mind,” you say, lips spreading into a dopey grin. “Need it so bad. Need you to help me.”

She closes her eyes, takes a steady breath at the sound of you so needy and sweet. Smooths a rough palm over the lower curve of your belly before pressing a kiss to your cunt. Already slick, puffy against her lips. Her tongue licks over your clit and you whine, fingers twisting around hers so tight the joints creak.

“Shit, that's—” You're cut off by a heavy sigh when she sucks the bundle of nerves into her mouth, soft and rhythmic, humming against you.

Best thing she's ever tasted, skin so soft under her hand, so wet she risks drowning. What a way to fucking go. You tilt your hips up to rut against her face, and she rides out your movements, offering up her tongue for you to grind against. Her hands move to your thighs but you bat her flesh one away.

“Fingers, Sev, please–need your—”

She's quick to split you open on two, groaning at the slick heat that sucks her in, at the way your shudder and keen high in your throat.

Between the rhythmic thrusting of her fingers and her tongue licking over your clit, it doesn't take much for you to cum. A surprisingly short time, in fact. Must have something to do with hormones, who fucking knows. It's hot. A beautiful thimg to watch—and feel, fuck—as you fall apart from just her fingers and tongue. Thighs tensing over her shoulders, insides fluttering, a hand fisted in her hair.

When you whine and shove at her head, she leans away with a long inhale of breath, sitting back to look at you still spread out beneath her, chest heaving, cunt plump and glistening. You've made a wet spot on the sheets under your ass.

You swallow with a click, arms stretching over your head. “Damn. Didn't realize how bad I needed that.”

She huffs out a laugh, wiping the lower half of her face off with her shirt (still can’t get over how wet you were; never seen anything like it in her life). “Glad I could help.”

“Your mouth should be illegal.”

She crawls up on the bed then settles in beside you as you lavish her with praise, basking in the afterglow with a hand in hers. Heat flushes up the back of her neck and courses down the length of her spine when you beg to kiss her, to taste yourself on her tongue.

You'll be the death of her.

She curls a hand over the back of your neck and slots her lips against yours, and immediately, you lick into her mouth. A moan vibrates your chest as you pull her closer, both arms wrapping around her neck.

“Can I return the favor?”

The question comes out of nowhere. By the steady rhythm of your breath, she thought you fell asleep ten minutes ago, but you're already rising to your knees to peer down at her with an expectant grin.

“That's not why I did it.”

“So I have to beg?”

A very nice thought. One she'd like to indulge in under different circumstances.

“How would you even—”

You roll your eyes. “For the love of Janna, I'm pregnant, not dying.” You scoot over to the side of the bed then grab one of the pillows you use to prop yourself up. “You can just lay on the edge of the bed, and I'll get on my knees in the floor.”

Well. You're more than willing, and she might actually combust if she doesn't cum soon. A win-win situation.

She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and helps you pull her briefs off.

When she spreads her legs, you tug your lower lip between your teeth, sweeping your eyes over her bare pussy. “I'm a little rusty, so you'll have to forgive me.”

She doesn't give a shit, will probably cum as soon as you get your mouth on her. And that's what she tells you.

With a teasing wriggle of your brows, you lean in, the flat of your tongue licking her from hole to clit. Her thighs twitch on either side of your shoulders, breath hissing through her teeth.

Shit, how long has it been since she—

“I don't have any other way to thank you for being so good to me,” you say, and her ears burn when you suck the lips of her pussy into your mouth. “This’ll have to do.”

She's nothing but a white-hot ball of need at this point. Heat broiling beneath her skin, coiling dangerously in the pit of her stomach.

You gaze up at her with low-lidded eyes as you swirl your tongue over her clit, watching her face twist up in pleasure.

Already, she's close. Thighs twitching, hips tilting up into your face. You circle two fingers over the entrance of her cunt, dipping in with a wet squelch.

When you lean away with a grin, she almost resorts to begging, and then you slide those fingers inside her, eyes locked onto the way she swallows you up.

“Fuck. You're so wet, Sev,” you pant, the thumb of your other hand raising to circle over her clit.

She knows. Shit, she knows—

“Please,” whispered under her breath.

Your soft gaze meets hers, and she's never felt so raw before. Flayed alive. Stripped down and vulnerable. The word means more than just begging. Sevika does not beg. Hasn't needed to in a very long time.

But she does for you.

“I know, baby.” You press a kiss to her puffy clit. “I'll take care of you.”

She will not cry. She absolutely will not fucking cry right now over some stupid little thing you said between her legs.

She collapses back against the bed and throws an arm over her face as you work her up to a quick orgasm with the steady rhythm of your fingers and tongue. She spreads her legs even wider when the coil in her belly snaps to keep from crushing your head between her thighs, and she grunts into the bend of her arm from how tight her limbs lock up.

It takes a good fifteen seconds before she can even breathe again, and she looks down the line of her body, flinching at the wet kiss you press to her stomach. Then another a little higher, and another, your chin sticky and slick as it glides over her skin.

“Thank you,” you say, reaching for her hand to help you climb on the bed and straddle her waist.

You're beautiful like this. Sated and sleepy and still so wet that your pussy leaves a puddle on her stomach. But the heated look you give her is a warning that you won’t be satisfied with just the one time.

Three rounds later—with you riding her face, and her leaned back against the wall, and you bent over the bed, and at one point you go to the kitchen for a snack and bend her over the counter, and then she fucks you in the shower when you’re supposed to bgetting clean—you’re both curled beneath the sheets, your belly pressing into her side, halfway between wake and sleep.

But something gnaws at her. Something she should've done months ago.

“I feel like shit. About… the way I talked to you when we first met.”

You sigh, and her heart begins to pound.

“Yeah, you were an asshole. A huge asshole.” At her guilty wince, you curl closer into her, cheek resting on her shoulder. Your hand soothes over the skin of her stomach. “But I get it now. You don't like to get close to people.”

“That's a nice way to put it.” She exhales a breath through her nose. Can't remember the last time she's tried to conjure up an apology. “I really am sorry, though. I want you to know that.”

You hum, voice thickening with the lull of sleep. “I appreciate it. Guess I knew there was more to you than what you show people.”

“Did the kid tell you that, too?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You already did. Four times.”

You laugh, and her sky shines a little brighter.

Everything is good. Great, in fact. But that’s the thing. Good things are fleeting in her life. Something always comes along to fuck it up.

She just hopes that the good days last a little while longer this time.

Fresh out the womb, the girl already looks like you—the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lips, your fingers and toes. Chubby-cheeked, a head full of thick hair, eyes blinking the world into existence.

Sevika does not make life, she destroys it, and yet in the same hands that have killed many, she holds creation in its purest form. Her face is one of the first things this baby will ever see.

She wants to cry.

She thinks of her mom, dying alone on that cold floor, and her vision mists over. Not this time. She’s older now, stronger, more lucid to the world. She'll do right by you—both of you.

But she’s terrified. Doesn’t know if she has it in her.

A trembling hand curls over her wrist, and she looks over, greeted by the gentle curve of your smile.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” you whisper, voice dragged through the jagged rocks of the river.

All she can do is nod, a thumb soothing over the fine wisps of your daughter’s hair. Curious eyes peer up at her, squinting, wiggling tiny little fingers.

She’s never held a baby before. Always thought them too fragile, but Lyra insisted that if a baby can squeeze through a vagina, it can handle being held. It made her feel better, if a little flustered, and you had laughed yourself to tears at the look on her face.

But the woman had a point.

She won't touch her with her prosthetic, though. For all Lyra's talk about hardiness and resilience, that part of her has no business near such an innocent thing. It's seen and felt too much blood. Caused it.

You notice, though. Of course you do.

“We can put a sheet around it,” you say in an attempt to reassure her, trailing a finger over the metal. “It's gonna be hard to hold her with one hand.”

“I'll manage.”

You let it go, turning back to nurse your glass of water, and she's grateful. Wouldn't budge on this no matter how hard you try.

She holds the baby until she can't any longer, when it's time for her to feed and the room fills with fussing cries. Watches you for a long time, long enough for you to notice and look up at her with a smile, eyes turning to those crescent moons that she loves so much.

Loves. Huh.

Yeah, she—fuck, she loves you. The realization scares the shit out of her, but the sight of you cooing at your nursing baby (hers, too, if she wants it, and she doesn't think she's wanted anything more in all her life) makes the fear inconsequential.

Now, she just has to figure out where the hell to go from here. How to be what you need.

A new place is a good start. She did promise you, after all.

#fuck it posting it tonight #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #x reader #my fics #fic: feed me!#ns/ft

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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 3 months ago

Text

the day you left michael kaiser was the day you died.

you didn’t lose your life, but you surely lost your heart. too many pieces of it had been left fragmented and taken by kaiser for you to be able to fix it ever again. you were only seventeen, and yet it felt like you’ve gone through a lifetime of heartbreak. leaving kaiser was both the most divine gift you have ever given yourself, but also the greatest mistake you have ever committed.

you had met him when you were five. round, rosy cheeks from the frosty winter air were covered in fat tears. you had gotten lost, and you couldn’t find you parents. eventually, you reached the neighborhood park. crouching in the wood chips, with grime and bruises littering his body, was a young michael kaiser of the same age.

he had never spoken to anyone his age, let alone a girl. when you shoved yourself down onto the near frozen swing, still sobbing and sniffling like a baby, kaiser didn’t know what to do. in the end, with his broken grammar and rude words, kaiser wanted to comfort you. he want to try to stop you from crying; after all, it reminded him of himself whenever his father beat and choked him. “what the fuck are you crying about? you look disgusting.”

if kaiser knew gentle words, he would have spoken them. if he knew a lullaby, he would have hummed it. if he knew how to comfort someone, he would have done so. but at age five, he didn’t know anything but swear words. after all, those were the only things that he father ever communicated to him in. at his words, you only sobbed harder. “s-shut up!” kaiser exclaimed. however, you quickly stopped crying once the realization hit you: he wasn’t angry at you.

“i-i’m sorry. i just can’t find my mama and dad.” you whimpered. kaiser nodded. you wiped your tears away, teardrops nearly frozen from the cold. kaiser pointed to a large building next to a collection of houses.

“there’s a shitty station there. a useless piece of shit like you should go there.” kaiser muttered, his voice peculiarly calm for someone who is uttering the nastiest of words. you only blinked a few times in confusion at his vulgarity before grinning brightly, your tears having all been wiped away, and thanked him.

at that moment, you both fell in love with the other. it was only supposed to be a stupid childhood crush that would last a month or two; it wasn’t supposed to be serious. it was just supposed to be cute and temporary.

if only that was the case.

after that day, you continued to visit kaiser every day at the park with a bag of bread from the neighborhood bakery. bread made from garlic salt and sugar and buttery, still warm and soft. for years, you never dared to ask why kaiser was always having fresh new wounds painted on his every day. only years later, at thirteen, did he finally tell you about his family life. you wanted to tell the police, but kaiser swore that he would rather die than end up as an orphan.

when he was fifteen, he got arrested. you knew that it wasn’t him; it wasn’t his fault. he would never steal from a jewelry store. you knew he stole, but he didn’t care about superficial riches like jewels and gold. you waited outside of the police department for two whole days without food and sleep, waiting for kaiser to have his name cleared. finally, some soccer scouter managed to bail him out.

that was the day you started dating kaiser.

he began playing for bastard münchen only a week after his release. you stood by his side, always supporting him, and being next to him, always loving him, always making sure that he knew you love him. at first, kaiser was almost the same, although much more rude to his new teammates. but he still remained as soft as he could with you, never raising his voice or a hand with you.

he began to change at sixteen.

he was cold; distant, even. he still loved you, you knew that for a fact. but soccer was always the only thing on his mind. you knew that he was justified; after all, soccer brought him self-satisfaction and love. he felt human if he played soccer, and you could understand why he was so obsessed with soccer. but not to the point where it was detrimental to his health.

kaiser choked himself.

you always knew that he hurt himself, but you always stopped him the moment you caught him, always begging for him to stop, and that he mustn’t do something like that. you begged for him to take therapy sessions, go to a psychiatrist, something, anything. kaiser only shrugged off your concerns and told you that you worried too much. but the moment you caught kaiser’s fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, unable to breathe and saliva escaping from his lips, you knew that he’s gone too far.

you had come up to him, begged him to stop. pulled his fingers away from his throat by force. after an hour of coaxing and coddling, he finally stopped for a week before continuing again. you knew that it wasn’t your problem to deal with, but you still felt so guilty about it.

kaiser told you that he loved you that night.

you dealt with him for another year. he was still so superficially obsessed with soccer; obsessed with crushing and destroying his opponents like the opposing teams on a chessboard. but you couldn’t bear it, he was nothing short of cruel to ness, and he was just like a monster when he was playing against another team. he smiled when someone on the opposing team started crying. he never treated you like that, but you didn’t want to take any chances. you knew that he would treat you just like that soon enough.

that day, you broke it off with him.

you knew that it would hurt you both, you knew that this decision would haunt your days forever. but you couldn’t deal with this anymore. you couldn’t continue to see the boy you loved spiral into insanity, with all of your efforts and begs going to waste. you were too horrified to tell him in person, so you only left a note.

over half of your once shared apartment’s furniture was destroyed that night after kaiser read the note.

he truly went insane. the one person who he ever truly loved, the one person who ever loved him, the only person who comforted him through his shitty childhood, gone and only leaving him a note. he went insane trying to find you; he texted you millions of times, called you and facetimed you thousands of times, but you never responded.

and now, at age twenty, kaiser still never moved on from you.

during matches, his eyes always scan the stands, thinking that maybe you’d come. maybe you got bored, or maybe you wanted to mock him, maybe you wanted him back, or maybe you just wanted to beat the crap out of him after drinking a bit too much. whatever the reason, kaiser just wants to see you happy. he wants to see you laughing. he doesn’t care if you don’t take him back; as long as you’re safe and happy and healthy, then he’ll be fine.

you weren’t fine. college was killing you, and you were still a virgin who never went out to parties. you still silently watched over kaiser; searching up his name often, reading news articles about him, and watching clips and videos of him on youtube. seeing him healthy made you happy, even if he wasn’t constantly in the best emotional state, especially in that strange blue lock facility that he went to when he was nineteen.

january twenty-sixth.

not only was bastard münchen playing against fc barcha today, but it also marked the fifteenth anniversary of when you and kaiser first met when you were both only five. today was the day where you decided that for the first time in three years, you would go see kaiser play. just as a physical to see if he was okay, and for no other reason. no, this because you missed him. no, this wasn’t because you were still in love with him and just wanted to see him again and wanted to know if he still loved you. surely, he wouldn’t even see you. nope, nope, not at all.

at least, that was what you hoped.

you sat in your plastic blue seat of the stadium, waiting to see kaiser again. you weren’t used to this; you were always in vip seats at his game, and this was the first time you weren’t. oh well, it was still watching the same game at the end of the day. plus, vip seating would only make it easier for kaiser to see you.

as kaiser stepped out and onto the plastic green grass, his eyes scanned the crowd once again. this would be the last time he will ever do this; if you’re not even going to be here today, then he’s sure that you’ll truly never attend any of his games. he knows you best and you know him best, after all.

left to middle. no sign of a goddess like beauty anywhere, so you weren’t there. middle section. no sign of an angel anywhere either, so you weren’t there. finally, there was only the right left. please, kaiser begged that you would be there. even if you were on your phone the entire match, kaiser couldn’t care less.

one by one, his eyes drifted through the crowd as he nearly reached the end. his eyes slowly dimmed; were you really not there? was he really never going to see the love of his life again? but then he reached the end, and his eyes widened, glimmering underneath the sunlight. and despite the fact that it was a harsh winter, the warmth and love in his eyes could melt all of the ice and snow outside.

it was you.

your eyes locked for a moment, and in that moment, there was no one else. for a moment, soccer didn’t even matter. it was just you and him. he mouthed your name, your eyes widening a fraction, before you turned red and looked away. kaiser almost laughed out loud before walking away to the center of the stadium, feeling as if he could score fifty goals. you really came; he really got to see you again.

during the match, every damn time kaiser scored a goal, he always made some sort of gesture to you, whether it’d be blowing a kiss to you or waving to you or just staring intently at you, the media went crazy over it—because it was just so obvious that those gestures were meant for you.

after the match, you walked through the stadium as quickly as you could, wanting to leave and not wanting to get bombarded by the media. you completed your task; you came to see if kaiser was okay. and he clearly was perfectly fine, so you had nothing to worry about.

that was until you felt the calloused grasp of a hand on yours.

it’s been three years, but you could recognize that feeling anywhere. the exact same way of lacing your fingers together, the exact same warmth and same feeling. the exact same hand.

mihya’s hand.

you turned around in a flash, tears brimming at your eyes unknowingly. why were you crying? you weren’t supposed to get emotional over seeing him again. not until you saw the tears stinging mihya’s eyes, tears glossing over his eyes like the most expensive and yet beautiful porcelain china.

your mihya.

“mihya…?” you mumbled, your voice the hum of a lullaby. you expected yells if this were to happen, you expected interrogations and questions and threats, you expected blackmail, you even expected to get hit by him.

but none of that came.

only the feeling of another hand tilting your chin up before cerulean eyes glimpsed into yours, looking at you as if you were the most precious and beautiful thing in the world.

“you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.”

a/n: YES A HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON REFERENCE EEEEEE

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #kaiser #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #blue lock x yn #blue lock x you #blue lock smut #bllk x you #bllk manga #bllk smut #bllk fluff

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lieslab · 12 days ago

Text

Right now, I wish you were here with me

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: After an argument, your boyfriend assumes you left for good.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Honestly, I really wanted to write more for this request, but every time I tried to write certain scenes, I felt so sad. I think we've all seen clips of Han when he's not feeling the best and that makes me want to cry. It turns out, I feel like a horrible person when I try to write sad Han. I'm afraid this is as good as you're going to get until I figure out how to wrangle my emotions 🥲 (I am so sorry)

_ _ _

Tucked between the ventricles of Han’s heart, he always feared losing you. Without you, there would be no him. When he fell in love, it happened so quickly. So fast, he didn’t know how to live without you. He wasn’t just fond of you, it was much deeper than that. Nobody would know him without knowing you.

Last night’s argument shattered his heart. The two of you were exhausted in your own different ways. At the company building, he’d been dancing his heart out and recording like crazy. On the other hand, you had been staying over later and later for work. Not because you wanted to, but because your boss requested you to work some overtime.

Exhausted and tired, neither of you felt good lately. The time shared between the two of you, it became limited. Date nights fell away. The space the two of you carved out for one another, it became harder and harder to keep.

Meals for two shifted into meals for one. You ate cold leftovers at your job. Han grabbed something warm from the building’s canteen. Meals were eaten between tasks and with bleary eyes. Hung heads. Pulled muscles. It never ended.

When you arrived home, both of you were exhausted. Housework felt overwhelming. It all spiraled out of control. Bodies ached. Brown eye bags morphed into a plum purple. Love between the two of you started to become secondary.

It’s not that you hated Han Jisung and he didn’t hate you. Life was much more difficult when life tugged you in two different directions. Instead of making your relationship work properly, the two of you were barely coasting along.

Your days off consisted of housework. Sometimes Han was called back into the studio for one reason, or another. Occasionally, your boss called and seeked your input on something back in the office.

So where did the two of you find time for each other outside of that? You still loved one another. Your hands reached out in the middle of your hazy sleep. You grabbed the fabric of his shirt in the darkened room.

After getting up from the bathroom, Han would grab your waist and tug you back in his arms, right where you belonged. His head tucked into your neck, the warmth of his breath would lull your half-asleep self back into a blissful sleep. Two bodies in harmony, but the love sprinkled between the two of you became few and far between.

It came to a boiling point the previous night. You asked Han something. A grumbling and grumpy mess, he mumbled a response. You were already at your wits end and when he didn’t respond properly, you snapped. He angrily yelled back. Between the two of you, it rolled into something unbearable.

Both of you separated and seeped in your own hurt. The argument tore through the elephant in the room. Maybe things were falling apart and it wasn’t meant to be. Two different people, two different directions, and if you couldn’t fix it now, you’d never be able to fix it again.

You fell asleep first. Exhausted and curled up on the far side of the bed, Han thought he might cry. Your arms tucked around your body and you curled into yourself, clearly hurt and upset by his words from earlier.

It stung his heart. He didn’t mean to take his anger out on you. You didn’t mean to buck heads from your exhaustion. Two people at their wits end, it didn’t bode together well.

He cautiously slipped into the bed. He stared at you for a brief moment, longingly wanting to grab you from behind and tug you to his chest, but he didn’t. The idea of tugging you close to him and you pulling away half-asleep, he couldn’t stand it.

Instead, he shifted around and faced the closet. His back to you, neither of you looked at the other. He sniffled and pawed at his nose with the back of his hand. Maybe tomorrow, the two of you could talk and try again.

~ ~ ~

The previous evening’s argument drifted away from the haze clinging to his brain. Han reached out with shut eyes, trying to find your body and pull you closer to him. When his arm met an empty bed and cold blankets, his eyes groggily opened. “Baby?” He croaked.

You didn’t respond. Your side of the bed sat with tangled blankets and an imprint in your pillow. Worried, he got up and glanced over at the shared bathroom. The door sat open and the room laid in darkness.

“Babe?” He shoved himself up and sauntered out into the living room. From the halls, the living room, and the kitchen, you weren’t there.

He panicked, calling your name louder. Your usual shoes weren’t beside his. His heart hammered in his chest and he rushed back into the bedroom. With a shaky hand, he searched everywhere on your dresser. Your car keys and wallet were gone.

You were gone and his heart burst.

~ ~ ~

As you worked, you checked your phone like usual. You couldn’t help it. You were used to sneaking and responding to Han’s messages, but they never showed up. You frowned, worried that he was still upset about last night’s argument. You never met a word of it, but as time went on and he didn’t text, your worry grew stronger.

When you could leave, you packed your stuff up quickly and hurried home. You shoved the key in the lock and twisted, trying to get inside as quickly as possible. You kicked off your shoes, nearly tripping over them in the process.

“Jisung?” Your voice echoed throughout the living room. The TV stayed off. The kitchen didn’t buzz with the gurgle of the rice cooker. Everything felt too still. “Jisung?”

You rushed to your shared bedroom. Your heart bloomed with worry and you shoved the door open. A human-sized ball laid with multiple blue blankets covered over their body. “Han?”

You hurried over, grabbing the blankets and yanking them off. Beneath them, your boyfriend’s teary eyes met yours. “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Why did you leave me? I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to get upset. Please don’t break up with me.” His bottom lip trembled and it broke your heart.

“Leave you?” You reached out, gently brushing away a fallen tear. “Baby, I’m not going to leave you. I forgot to leave you a note this morning. I was late for work and left in a rush.”

“Huh?”

“I must not have sent you the text earlier. I swore I texted you. I waited for a text from you all day, but you never sent me anything.”

“I-I thought you were mad at me because of last night.”

Your face fell and guilt sunk your heart. Strands of your hair shook as you shook your head. “No! No! No! I’m so sorry. I swear, I’m not leaving you. Last night was stupid. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset over something so petty. I’m sorry.”

“You're not mad at me?”

“No. I can never be mad at you for long. You’re my biggest weakness. I thought you knew that.” You sank to your knees, so you were even with his face near the mattress. “You’ll always be a weak point for me.”

“I thought I fucked us up forever.”

“I’m really sorry. I’ll do better, so this won’t happen again. I shouldn’t have started a fight last night. It was so pointless.” You leaned forward, letting your lips press against the warmth of his forehead.

His eyes fluttered shut. Love swaddled him once more. He reached out and gently grabbed your upper arm. “Lay with me?”

You pulled away and shoved yourself onto the bed with a knee. You flopped over his body and laid beside him. He shifted, rolling over so he could face you. Your limbs tangled over one another and you gripped him tight. His faint sniffles cut through the hum of the ceiling fan.

No matter how exhausted and tired you were, you could never give these little moments up; not even if you tried.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #stay #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz #han jisung #han jisung stray kids #han skz #han jisung skz #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #han jisung comfort #No

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helaintoloki · 9 months ago

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Can I request something with Five Hargreeves where Five and Lilia gets back to their family after the 7 years (nothing romantic happened between them, just purely platonic), and when he sees the reader for the first time after almost loosing so much hope in seeing her again, he just can’t help but latch onto her and never let go, kissing her all over cause he finally gets to see the love of his life again :,D

a/n: ty for sending in this request anon i really enjoyed writing it <3 this is basically the “good ending” of the subway incident

warnings: fluff, mentions of five and lila but in a platonic way not the bad way

His lungs feel like they’re on fire as Five pushes himself to continue his sprint to your apartment. It’s been seven years without you, and after almost losing hope of ever seeing you again, all he wanted now was to have you in his arms as proof that he truly was back in his own timeline.

He never should have listened to Lila when she insisted on traveling the subway system in search of a solution to the Cleanse, but he had been desperate to find a way to keep you and his family safe no matter the cost. He didn’t mind having to eat subway rats and sleep in flimsily sleeping bags on dirty platforms for your sake, but with no end in sight the entire thing began to seem futile. What good was putting himself through torture if he could never go back home to you?

Thus, when he found the journal that detailed the way back home, Five did not hesitate to jump on the next subway car and return back to his own timeline. He didn’t feel sorry for practically shoving Lila out of the way as soon as the doors opened, and he didn’t waste a second waiting for her to follow before he was booking it out of the station and down the streets to your apartment. While it would have been faster to just jump there, he didn’t want to risk accidentally placing himself right back where he started, and he didn’t have the patience to wait for Lila to find a car and drop him off herself. Seeing you could not wait, and so he ran.

Though Five has experienced seven painful years of being stuck with Lila in the subway, only four hours have passed since you last spoke to him on the phone to discuss your evening plans. He was meant to be at your apartment thirty minutes ago so you could enjoy a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant, and yet here you were sitting painfully board at your kitchen island watching the minutes tick by. You knew he wasn’t exactly keen on eating out when he’d rather stay at home and spend quality time with you, but surely he wouldn’t stoop so low as to miss your date entirely.

“Screw this,” you huff in indigence as you snatch your keys from the counter and grab your previously discarded purse from its spot on the couch. “He’ll just have to meet me there.”

After putting on your coat, you fling the door open only to met with the sight of a breathless Five, his fist raised in the air as if he was about to knock before you beat him to it. He looks completely disheveled with his mussed up hair and wrinkled suit, his eyes blown wide as he swallows down a big gulp of air and takes in your features. You look more beautiful than he ever thought possible, and he can’t believe that he’s really here standing in front of you after being trapped in a time travel hellscape for seven years with his idiot brother’s idiot wife.

“Five?” You utter gently, brows furrowed in confusion and concern as you reach out to place a gentle hand upon his cheek. He’s warm to the touch, most likely a side effect from having sprinted for three blocks, but it worries you nonetheless. He nearly melts into your palm as his eyes flutter shut in contentment at the feel of your skin against his own. He’s missed this, and he’s missed you. “Where have you been, I was just about to leave without you. You okay?”

You jump at his sudden movement when Five practically throws himself into your arms. You lose your footing and tumble back into your apartment, and it takes you a moment to process what’s happening before you tightly return the embrace. You know Five loves you, but he’s never been so forward with affection like this, so his behavior takes you by surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better,” he breathes out in relief as he takes in your warmth and your smell and your touch and everything good about you. He never thought he could miss anyone as much as he missed you, and Five swore in that moment he’d never take you for granted again.

“Are you sure you’re really my Five and not a total stranger?” You question teasingly, poking fun at his uncharacteristically tender behavior. While normally you would be met with a biting and sarcastic response in return, you are instead given a passionate kiss as he cups your face in his hands and desperately pulls you closer to him. Your startled gasp is swallowed by his lips as he deepens the kiss and pushes you further into the apartment before shutting the door with his foot.

“Five,” you manage to breathe out after he pulls away for air, your face hot and your mind frazzled as you struggle to comprehend the sequence of events that have just occurred. “Five, we’re going to be late.”

“I couldn’t care less,” he replies with a faint smile, reaching out to carefully tuck your hair behind your ear. “I missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeat in confusion. “You saw me this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll explain everything in time,” he assures you carefully, “but right now I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

With a faint smile gracing your lips, you know you can’t argue with that. You probably will miss your dinner reservations, but none of that matters as Five pulls you in close and showers you with seven years worth of pent-up affection.

You could really get used to this side of him.

#request #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five x reader #number five imagine #five x reader #five imagine #tua x reader #tua imagine #tua

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bless-my-demons · 3 months ago

Text

Scared Of Losing You

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: hurt/comfort followed by fluff of course and curse words - PG-13.

Notes: This is literally just a one-shot that would not leave me alone so I had to get it out! It’s all in reader’s pov with no physical description and gender neutral for the most part I think. I also listened to The Wire by the Vancouver Sleep Clinic while I was writing this, if you want the right vibes✨ enjoy my first Paul fic!

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

Beep… beep… beep…

The constant tone is almost soothing, almost, but not quite - there’s too much pain.

The hospital sheets crinkle as I try to shift to find a more comfortable position, but a soft inhale has my eyes snapping open against the bright light above my bed to search for the source of the sound.

“Sam?” I try to keep my voice low, but it comes out as more of a dry croak.

Sam leans forward in his chair to reach for the cup of ice on the tray near my bed, “Yeah, kid.” He keeps his own voice quiet, but I can hear the tiredness in the deep rumble.

It’s after my first sip of cold water that I take in everyone piled in my room. Embry, Quil, Jared, even Jacob - the boys are sprawled out on various chairs and couches, all completely knocked out and some of them even snoring lightly.

But there’s another, Paul. And my heart beats a little faster taking him in, the heart monitor giving me away.

“He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t even left to shower.” Sam shifts back into his chair positioned next to the foot of my bed, directly across from his best friend on the other side, his eyes worrying over said man. “To be fair, none of us have been able to leave.”

“Sam-” I’m speechless for a few seconds, “what happened?”

He loosens a sigh so deep, it pulls something in my chest. God, how long have I been here? Looking over Paul’s sleeping form, I try to put the pieces together - his head is buried face-down in his crossed arms, leaning on the end of my bed near my left leg, one of his warm hands wrapped around my ankle-my uninjured ankle. His shirt is rumbled, but I can see stubble on his cheek peeking out from where his face is hidden. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d be an absolute hot mess at the physical contact; the way his large hand easily wraps around my ankle, how warm my side is due to the heat emanating from this mountain of a man despite the cold of the hospital room.

“You were in a car accident leaving the reservation after your dinner with Emily. You didn’t text her when she expected you to be home, you didn’t answer your phone and it went straight to voicemail…” I can see the genuine concern on his face as he recalls it, “When we got there, Chief Swan was already on scene.”

“How bad? How long have I been here?” I can feel my throat starting to constrict, my heart rate starting to tick a little faster.

Sam’s eyes flick to the monitor, brotherly worry written all over the creases in between his eyebrows and the hard press of his lips.

“Three days.” This time it’s not Sam that answers, it’s the deep tenor that invades my dreams as well as damn near every waking thought of mine, Paul Lahote.

My head whips to meet his intense gaze so fast that it makes me slightly nauseous, his hand lightly squeezing my ankle in a way that tugs at another string in my chest.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam rises from his seat and I panic slightly, he’s leaving me with Paul. Paul Lahote, the guy I have an insanely intense crush on, the guy that doesn’t do feelings. The panic subsides quickly though, I giggle slightly at Sam trying to wake up and usher the boys still half-asleep out of my room.

The door clicks behind them, silencing their grumbles and their absence echos in the room. Sucking all the air out with their departure, it’s damn near impossible to meet his eyes again.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and hush in his voice is unfair, coupled with the gentle swipe of his thumb over the skin of my ankle. Damn, he doesn’t fight fair.

It’s like a magnet, the way my eyes draw back to his. They look so fucking tired and it hurts.

“Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a nicked lung, and a broken tibia. Not to mention all the cuts-” he cuts himself off, hands and gaze running over my uninjured leg like he’s trying to reinforce something inside himself.

“Paul-” He stills at his name, eyes closing, inhaling deep. “Paul.”

Finally he turns to me, eyes opening and showing the slightest bit of tears pooling at the edges and its another pang to the center of my chest.

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” My voice is small, not sure how to tread this tense situation.

A wet laugh tumbles out as his hands abandon my leg to rub at his temples. “You.” It’s quiet and I almost don’t catch it over the beeping of monitors.

“What?” I ask, my voice taking on an incredulous tone. Surely I didn’t hear him right, right?

“You.” His eyes lock onto mine with full force, face set. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” he rubs at his chest like it hurts and my breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” The pause hitching his breath, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” his groan of frustration slides over my skin and lodges in my throat with the rest of my guilt. “I-I-”

His stuttering renders me absolutely speechless, Paul Lahote showing feelings? Feelings for me? Is this real life?

“So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” I try to reach for his hands, but a stabbing pain in my side stops me, right - the ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake then they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” The tremble in his hands stop his rant, drawing his attention somewhere else. His next words are a whisper, “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.”

The conviction in his statement makes my chin wobble.

“Sweetheart,” he rises from his chair and cups my cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” the strong thumb swiping over my cheekbone only weakens my thin resolve and a tear spills over.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice wobbles, damn me for not being stronger, but everything hurts and he’s being so vulnerable and-and-and it’s so scary.

He leans down further, forehead pressing to my own, his nose barely brushing mine. My heart rate monitor picks up its cadence once again and that smirk I’ve always loved crinkles the side of his stupid, perfect mouth.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” His admission confuses me, he’s sorry? “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

My heart fully stops functioning and my mouth drops open at this new bit of information.

His lips brush my cheek as they whisper into my ear, “breathe.” My entire body is a live wire as I gulp oxygen down.

“You don’t have to say anything-” his immediate insecurity about his confession is too much.

I cut him off before I lose my resolve, “kiss me?”

His eyes widen comically for a second, as if he didn’t picture the possibility I could return his affections. Silly man.

His fingers gently glide under my chin to tilt it upwards, his eyes searching every inch of my face, like he’s looking for something.

“If you-” his turn to cut me off, his warm lips seal over mine.

Surely I’m dead. I must be, it’s the only logical reason. Either that or this is a really, really nice dream. The immersive kind, where it’s too good to be true. It’s a crime really, for lips to be so full and soft and just right-

The barely audible whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away a fraction of an inch is embarrassing. What’s even more embarrassing is the way I reach to chase those lips, but once again my ribs decide to protest the action, goddamnit.

Paul takes pity on me with a chuckle, resealing his lips over mine, thank god. No one should have a mouth this delicious, lips this full and warm. I’m a goner - go ahead and wheel me to the morgue, I can die happy now that I’ve finally found out what it’s like to kiss Paul Lahote.

His hands gently slide into my hair, causing a gasp to punch through from the goosebumps the warm caress pours down my spine. His tongue seizes the opportunity to lick past my lips and I happily swallow the moan he elicits right before he peels himself away.

Backing up and taking a lap around the end of the bed, I catch the flush in his cheeks as he blows out a long breath and grin to myself self-satisfied. I made the Paul Lahote flustered.

“Too much?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

For once he looks like a fish out of water, but before she could scramble a response together, a gentle knock at the door draws both our attention as Emily peeks her head around the edge, “knock, knock.”

Relief at seeing my best friend soothes the burning heat in my cheeks almost immediately.

“Come in.” Paul pushes the chair closer so that he can take my much smaller hand in his, careful of the IV taped to the back of my hand. I can’t contain the butterflies that erupt at the satisfied grin his mouth is set in, eyes glued to our joined hands.

“I’m so glad you’re awake and alright!” Her concerned ramblings fading off as the boys file back in. Sam clapping a hand on Paul’s shoulder and suspiciously empty handed with no promised coffee in sight, but I can’t look away. Not from the man that just flipped my word upside down with a couple words and a kiss.

Part Two

#twilight fanfiction #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x y/n #Paul Lahote x gn!reader #paul lahote fluff #hurt/comfort

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thehoneybeestings · 4 months ago

Text

𝐯𝐢 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐯𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 545

Content/Warnings: sfw, gn reader (no pronouns used), a little bit of angst just bc poor Vi has never caught a break in her life

A/N: so while i finish up the dancer!vi x dancer! reader smut... i wrote this up super quick last night in bed while my girlfriend was genuinely sprawled on top of me pushing me off of it but awwww my shayla ANYWAY, here is a short headcanon about what I think it's like to share a bed with Vi! enjoy!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

୨ৎ Vi, who feels the safest when she's as small as she can get while she sleeps

୨ৎ Before you two began sleeping in the same bed, she'd try to go to sleep with her limbs outstretched- be it on her side, her back, or her stomach- but every morning, without fail, she'd wake up with her knees tucked into her chest and her arms wrapped around her own waist

୨ৎ After the two of you began sharing a bed, she'd start out curled into herself, cradled in your arms, and wake up starfished across the entire fucking bed

୨ৎ Vi, who I fully and wholeheartedly believe sucks at being the big spoon

୨ৎ As much as she'd like to feign that she's all big and tough- that she's supposed to be the one holding you- she sleeps the best tucked against your back, covers pulled up to her nose

୨ৎ (When she does try to big spoon, she burrows her head so far into your back that you end up turning around to hold her anyway)

୨ৎ Vi, who-despite pulling it right up to her nose before she falls asleep- always manages to kick the damn comforter off the bed in the middle of the night

୨ৎ She runs so hot at night that it doesn't matter; anything more than the top sheet and you'd sweat through your pajamas

୨ৎ Vi, who sleeps naked apart from her underwear (plain cotton hipsters; there's no way boxers are fitting underneath the tight ass jeans she wears like i’m sorry)

୨ৎ Vi, who hates waking up alone; in fact, she's terrified of it

୨ৎ You learned your lesson about leaving bed unannounced when one morning, you woke up before she did and decided to sneak off to the kitchen to make her a surprise breakfast

୨ৎ You're busy scrambling eggs when you hear her call your name from the hallway leading to your bedroom

୨ৎ She rounds the corner to the kitchen, eyes wide and wild until they land on you, and she finally exhales

୨ৎ “Hey baby! I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast in bed; you like your eggs scrambled, right?”

୨ৎ “Yeah,” she'd breathe out. She still looked like she'd seen a ghost.

୨ৎ You'd furrow your brow, worry creeping up on you. “You okay?”

୨ৎ “Y-yeah, sorry. I’m good,” she'd reply, unconvincingly.

୨ৎ Your eyes wouldn't leave her as you moved the eggs off of the heat and made your way to where she stood with a hand on the wall to support herself

୨ৎ “Baby,” you'd coax, reaching out to tame a stray tendril of fuchsia; and she'd envelop you in her arms, holding on like you'd disappear if she let go

୨ৎ “Please don't leave without waking me first, okay?” She’d plead, her voice breaking.

୨ৎ And your heart would shatter as you realized just how terrified she was of losing someone else

୨ৎ From that point on, you'd never leave bed without a gentle shake to her shoulder and a quick kiss on her forehead as you alerted her that you were leaving, but that you'd be back

୨ৎ Vi, who still has a hard time comprehending that she has a soft bed to sleep in at night, a fluffy comforter to abandon when she gets too hot, full nights of sleep without nightmares, and most of all, you to share it with

──˚₊• 𝐄𝐍𝐃 •‧₊˚──

#vi x reader #violet x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #violet x you #violet x y/n #vi imagine #vi headcanon #arcane headcanon #vi fluff #vi angst #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #vi arcane #violet arcane

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gorgeys · 4 months ago

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post-crash jackie taylor who's depressed and starving, but fights for her survival because her only thoughts are of seeing you, her girlfriend she left behind.

jackie who lays awake at night, shivering despite three layers of blankets, with her glossy eyes fixed to the ceiling. memories of you play behind her eyes, specifically watching you sleep on a lazy sunday morning.

if she thinks really hard, she can see you in her bed, lying face-to-face with her. she can see your peaceful features and the slow breaths leaving and entering you nose. she can nearly feel you reach out in your sleep, your arm encircling her waist or your head burying itself in the crook of her neck. her heart melts just thinking about it.

she didn't realize how well she slept beside you until her many sleepless nights after the crash. she would give anything to hear you softly snoring beside her again.

jackie who collects little pieces of nature that remind her of you. a perfectly shaped leaf floats down from a tree and lands on her head. she finds an unusually smooth rock by the lake. she smiles at whatever it is, a sign from nature that you're still out there waiting for her, and keeps it in her personal collection.

jackie who purposefully doesn't wear the shirt she stole from your closet the day before she left so that it still smells like you. every night, without fail, she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales like her life depends on it. when she notices the scent starting to fade, silent tears stream down her cheeks. she's losing you.

jackie who does, however, wear your cheer bow in her ponytail. you had given it to her for nationals as a good luck charm, and now she feels like she has a part of you with her wherever she goes. when one of the girls teases her for wearing it, she shoots them a glare so deadly they instantly seal their lips.

jackie who speaks aloud to you when no one's around, looking up to the sky for you.

"god, i wish you could've seen the look on misty's face! it was hilarious. you would've laughed so hard, you probably would've peed a little," she laughs, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, her fingers twiddling with your bow.

"do you still think about me?" she pauses for your response. "d-do you think i'm dead?" pause. "well, i'm not. at least i don't think so." longer pause. "are you...moving on? you better not." pause. "she better not be prettier than me."

"i miss you. so much."

jackie who can't even talk to anyone about how she's feeling because your relationship was never public. it was always sneaky glances from across the hall and shared moments behind closed doors. now, thousands of miles away from you, she regrets not loving you like she should have. she promises to love you harder than anyone ever has if when you're reunited.

jackie who could spend hours staring at the polaroid she took of you. it's a random one of you doing homework on her bed, your brows knit in adorable concentration. it's the only one she has with her. she keeps it in the back pocket of her jeans wherever she goes.

one time she loses it and runs outside, frantically digging around in the dirt on hands and knees to find where she dropped it. in reality, she misplaced it on the kitchen counter where shauna finds it and recognizes the polaroid as coming from jackie's camera. she asks jackie about it, who's still knee-deep in dirt, and jackie suddenly bursts into tears, confessing everything like word vomit.

although she nearly went into shock from losing your picture, it does feel nice to share her feelings for you with someone. she feels a little less alone.

jackie who loves sleep, although it seems to elude her many nights, because it means seeing your face in her dreams. it doesn't matter if it's a good dream or a nightmare, as long as she can see you again. when she wakes up she keeps her eyes glued shut, greedily hoping she can fall back asleep and see you once more.

she ends up being the last up and first to bed. the other girls think she's not pulling her weight, but how could anyone blame little lovesick jackie taylor ☹️

jackie who hated some of your favorite songs back home, but now finds herself humming them while doing daily chores. she smiles remembering lying on your bed, watching you dance and sing along to them around your room. she always told you to "turn that shit off and play some real music," but now she loves those songs because they represent you.

jackie who realizes how utterly devoted to you she is. it wasn't as clear back home with so many distractions, but now that she's alone with her thoughts almost all the time, the only thing she can think about is you. nothing else really matters to her or motivates her besides you. it only took a plane crash for her to realize that.

jackie who looks up to the sky and promises both you and herself that she won't die before she sees you again.

jackie who is rescued (because she doesn't die, idk what you guys are talking about) and keeps that promise.

jackie who can't believe her eyes when she sees you for the first time. for a second, she thinks she's dreaming. she's had a recurring dream of this exact moment after all. but, when you start running toward her, she snaps back to reality and it hits her: it's really you.

she instantly bursts into tears as your arms wrap around her, the warmth of your embrace striking her like a train and grounding her at the same time. she squeezes you so tight you might break a rib, her head burrowing into your shoulder. she deeply inhales your scent and lets her tears trickle onto your skin.

jackie who doesn't let you pull away or say anything before she pulls you into a bruising kiss. she doesn't care if the two of you are alone or in a crowded room, nothing matters to her except showing you just how much she missed you.

she pecks your lips repeatedly, whispering an "i love you" in between each kiss like it's her mantra. it's heaven on earth.

jackie who sleeps beside you that night for the first time in nearly two years. she holds you to her chest like a teddy bear as you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears until you fall asleep. it's the best sleep she's ever had.

she wakes up the next morning and the first thing she sees is your peaceful face. she watches the slow breaths leave and enter you nose and finds silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

jackie who knows the sleepless nights, insatiable hunger, and depressive episodes were worth it just to come back to you.

i love you lovesick!jackie please come save meeeeeee also jackie x cheerleader!reader 🤭

#jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x fem!reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yj #yj x reader #x fem!reader #wlw

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carlosainzgf · 4 months ago

Text

REUNITED

kang dae ho x fem!reader (smut)

(i wrote this at like 3 am so ignore if there are any typos or something)

the vote decided that you could return home, but you didn’t want to lose touch with dae-ho, so you agreed to find each other. you gave him your address before you were dragged away from each and dropped on the middle of a street.

after a few days of waiting for him you thought he wasn’t going to show up. but then there was a knock on your door. you rushed and opened it.

you were sitting at home looking pretty all day long because you didn’t know when he would show up. but it paid off. your hair was sitting prettily on your shoulders, you had a little lace top on and a pair of cotton shorts and a cute cardigan to warm you up on top.

when dae ho saw you he was speechless. you weren’t dressed in anything fancy but seeing you out of those disgusting, bloody tracksuits was enough to leave him speechless.

“hi” even tho you had seen each other at your lowest and talked about anything and everything when you couldn’t sleep, you were still shy when you saw him.

“hey” he greeted you as shyly as you greeted him.

you were both quick to embrace each other in a hug. a very needed one. you had both witnessed such cruel things in that island and you both understand one anothers pain.

after a night of long talks about your lifes, what you were going to do with the money you both won and a little too much of wine you found yourself in his hold. kissing lazily as dae ho admired you. his fingers leaving delicate traces over your jaw. and your hands tugging at his hair.

as the kissing became more needy and your bodies danced together you felt him through your clothes, rubbing deliciously over you clothed clit. you placed your hand over his hard on and started rubbing him.

he pulled away and placed his hand over yours.

“see this? it’s all for you.”

you move down from you place on his lap to in between his thighs, carefully sliding off dae ho’s pants and releasing him from restraint of his underwear. you slowly wrap your mouth around dae ho’s shaft, your tongue wrapping rings around the tip and suckling softly making him moan loudly.

he watches you look up at him while you slowly but steadily lick up his shaft, making your way back to his tip where you begin to focus your tongue along slit.

his eyes roll back as you slowly start to bob your head.

he wraps his hand around your hair, making a makeshift ponytail and gently pushed your head down, shoving more of his length in your mouth so deep that your nose is nearly up against the small patch of hair above his cock

you let out a soft gagging sound as his fat cock hits the back of your throat. you splutter a bit, drooling around the shaft. he guides you to bob your head by the grip he has on your hair.

dae ho panted out between gasping breaths, his voice tight with desperation as he felt the rising from the pit of his stomach.

“f-fuck…if you don’t im gonna…co-come.” he didn’t want it to end just yet so he yanked you off himself and laid you down.

he undressed you, then himself.

his hands roamed everywhere, from your back to your ass, to your stomach, caressing every inch of you.

he started to kiss his way down your body, kissing and biting your skin as he went.

dae ho's lips trailed down your body, his calloused hands explored every curve as if he was trying to engrave it to his mind.

he fondled with your boobs. the one he has been day dreaming about. you stared at dae ho as he did so. taking in those puppy brown eyes that were looking up at you, the warmth of his skin and that god send hair of his. he suddenly dipped his head, latching himself to one of your nipples as he toyed with the other, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding up onto dae ho’s cock.

you moan, loudly.

moving one hand down your hips, skimming past your burning thigh before reaching the small bundle of nerves. you let out a small whine against his heated neck, bucking your hips against his fingers.

he watched as your head fell back while his thick fingers slid against your drenched folds. dae ho thrusted his fingers into your warm walls, briefly watching you envelope him entirely.

“shit, shit, shit,” you whisper as dae ho’s fingers slip in and out of you. he’s feverishly kissing down the side of your thighs, bites left in between. you groan in slight pain as you tug on his soft hair. he curls his fingers inside of you. you mewl at the touch.

“i need... i need..." you breathed, "i need you in me, fuck." his entire body shuddered with a sharp arousal at your words. with all the willpower he has left he removes his finger from your wet hole.

he was quick to position himself at you opening. he rubbed his shaft over your slit, gathering your wetness and nudging your clit as he did so.

you gasped as he pressed his cock into you slowly, his whispered praises to keep your focus on him. “that’s it,” he encouraged, his hand braced yours and pinned them up over your head. “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

he started moving slowly, savoring the feeling of your warmth. a tiny, needy moan could be heard from him. it's like you were made for him, your gummy walls perfectly stretched out to cling to every last vein and inch on his cock.

hooking your legs around his waist as he grabs your hip with one hand and angles your body up, causing the tip of his cock to kiss your cervix. “s-so big!” dae bo groaned softly and stared at you in awe, at the pleasured expression on your face he fucked you, oh, so deep.

you felt so good, his cock moving so easily in and out of your warm and wet pussy. he groans feeling your pussy close in on him, getting tighter and tighter. “you feel s-so…good!”

lifting your head up, you stare into his eyes. mouth agape as moans kept spilling from your mouth.

it wasn’t long till he felt you squeeze him so hard he moaned and stuttered his hips for a second. you moaned even louder now, your legs felt like jelly.

“you gonna come? come on my cock, baby. let me feel you.” he rubbed your clit with his thumb, putting just the right amount of pressure on it, needy to make you cum.

he could see you slowly fall apart. your body was shaking with pleasure, your hands reaching towards his thick biceps to hold.

he grunted, feeling you clench around his cock. "cum... cum for me," he beckoned, increasing the speed of his cock and the pressure of his thumb on your clit.

your body jerked and convulsed over him, your brain unable to control it any longer. your climax hit you hard. your moans were high pitched and dazed. you were completely lost in pleasure.

your pleasure only fueled his. dae ho groaned at the feel of his twitching cock in your walls. “aah, shit," dae ho cussed, drunk on your pussy.

you both moaned when you felt the hot ropes of his cum spill into your walls. his hips stuttered, as you took every last drop from him.

he buried his chin into your neck, riding out his last few moments of his climax. he placed a few lingering kisses across your neck, coming to your lips last and capturing them with his once again.

placing a kiss on your forehead, he slowly removed his softening cock from your pussy. you both watched his cum mixed with your spill out of you.

he swooped you into his arms making you yelp. "let's take a shower and get you cleaned up, yeah?”

#squid game fanfiction #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #dae ho smut #dae ho squid game #frontman x reader #gyeong seok x reader #dae ho fluff #kang dae ho #the salesman x reader #squid game smut #thanos x reader

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windser · 6 months ago

Text

sylus wasn’t necessary not a morning person, sans the sunlight. there were days he pushed the threads of exhaustion a little too thinly, often drifting off on the couch when he just promised to relax. he acknowledged that your schedules weren’t meant to overlap. as much as you enjoyed the thrill of joining him on moonlight adventures, your primary calling had you up during the day to assist your hunter allies.

so even after a long night when he desperately needed more than the brief nap he settled on, if you were present, he would entertain a few moments of rest while the clock ticked down to your wakening. like clockwork, he would rises as if he’d been next to you throughout the night, just to soak in what he could of your presence before he saw you off for the day.

it was the best start end of his day, even for such a high-maintenance kitten as yourself.

it surprised even sylus the first time he tried to gently maneuver the sheets with his feet and slowly pry his arm from the grip you had obtained in your sleep. he would lose some of his resolve to rouse you somewhere between you sleepily nuzzling at the pillow where he once lay and the way you lazily stretched your arms above your head before settling back down and burrowing underneath the covers. he couldn’t help himself when his fingers scratched affectionately at the base of your neck while his voice softened as he reminded you of the time.

a few minutes later, he would be back in the bedroom, a mug of perfectly steeped tea would be in his hand, the steam brewing into his face as he set it on the bedside table next to you. he would lean over once more, lips pressed to your warm temple and fingers brushing against the top of your head, murmuring about how you had to get up.

sometimes sylus' fingers would wrap around your ankles, tickling but never pulling. he had teased it many times, hands pushed against your waist and fingertips purposeful at your sensitive skin. you would always curl onto your side and your fingers tucked the comforter tighter around your shoulders. you would grumpily mumble a few choice words, trying to free your feet from his grasp, but he would eventually let go. how could he, even in all his might make you get out of bed, especially not when you breathed in the scent of his pillow and whispered something about loving him.

"such a feisty kitten, even in your sleep," he mumbled, as his hands smoothed the fabric back over your body so you were properly warm. "claws in all.” every action of yours so sharp and deep as it dug into his consciousness.

you took in a breath and, enamoured, sylus watched as it seeped back into your lungs. “i just want to sleep a little longer, sy.”

sylus would falter. he always did, especially when you blinked up at him through thick eyelashes with a frown on your face. he would look towards the door while his fingers twitched, longing to reach for you again.

"okay. slide over, sweetheart." his mouth tried not to turn upwards when you rolled back to your side of the bed to leave room for him.

clinging to him, you tucked your head underneath his chin and slung one of your legs across his. your breathing deepened into an even pitch, the warmth spreading across sylus collarbone, and he watched in adoration and awe when you tilted your head to press a loving kiss to his jawline.

mornings always ended up like this.

#lnd sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lnd x reader #clearing out drafts #domestic sylus is the fruit of my labour #windworks

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Terrified to Lose You Two

Summary: Jake is gone. And you don't know when or if he's coming back. Left to navigate the aftermath of that night on your own, you try to convince yourself it was nothing. But when weeks turn into months, and an unexpected scare leaves you spiraling, it becomes impossible to ignore just how much his absence weighs on you.

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Pregnancy Scare. Also just a lot of angst and worrying. Maybe mutual idiots with feelings?

Word Count: 3,551

Author’s Note: This took WAY longer than I planned it to. But honestly I hadn't originally planned on this to have a Part 2 but since there was interest decided to see what I could come up with. I know the ending is kind of open ended. I'm not sure i I want to have a Part 3 or not. So I tried to leave it so that this could be the end or there could be more. I hope you all enjoy it and that it ends up being worth the wait. xx

You don’t know how long it’s been exactly. Days blur together when there’s no news. No updates. No messages.

Just an empty space where Jake should be.

You wake up in the middle of the night, stomach twisted in knots, reaching for your phone before you remember he’s not going to text you.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And that thought is a black hole, threatening to swallow you whole.

So you keep yourself busy. Work. Exercise. Anything to outrun the restless energy clawing at your ribs.

But your body feels…off. It’s subtle at first. A gnawing exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. A vague nausea that lingers in the back of your throat, never quite enough to make you sick, just enough to make food unappealing.

You brush it off as stress. The lack of sleep. The sheer weight of waiting for Jake to come back. Or even just to hear news that he and the others are okay.

Then you check the date.

Your heart stops.

No. You count again.

No. Your stomach lurches as you double check your calendar, fingers tightening around your phone as if that might somehow change the numbers.

Late. You’re late.

And suddenly, the exhaustion, the nausea, the hollow ache in your chest…it all feels suffocating.

No. No, it’s stress. It has to be stress.

You can’t be. That doesn’t make sense. You’re on the pill. You never miss a dose. You’ve taken it every day at the same time like clockwork.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

You take a slow breath, pressing your fingertips against your temples. Stress messes with your cycle. That’s all this is. The waiting, the worrying, the exhaustion, it's all too much, and your body is just reacting to it.

You try to shake it off. You try to be rational.

But then the symptoms start feeling more real.

A wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere while you’re brushing your teeth. You gag, barely managing to stop yourself from getting sick. Later, in the shower, the steam makes your head swim. The next thing you know, you're gripping the tile wall, knees nearly buckling, blinking against the sudden dizziness.

Your heart pounds. You breathe through it, shaking your head. It's fine. You just stood up too fast. You didn’t eat enough today. Except you did eat. You had half a sandwich, a protein bar, and a coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Wasn’t it?

The doubt creeps back in. By the time dinner rolls around, even the thought of food makes your stomach turn. You stare at your favorite takeout sitting on the counter, appetite gone, throat tight.

Panic wraps around your ribs.

No. No, this isn’t happening.

You can’t tell Jake because he’s not here.

You can’t tell anyone else because they’re all gone too.

You're alone.

So what do you do?

You do the worst possible thing. You start Googling.

And suddenly, every symptom lines up perfectly. Fatigue. Nausea. Dizziness. Loss of appetite.

Sitting on the bathroom floor phone gripped tight in your hands, you stare at the search results until the words blur together.

The answer is simple. You need to take a pregnancy test.

But you don’t move. You don’t get up. You just sit there, legs curled up to your chest, heart hammering in your ears.

What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What if—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’re overreacting. You tell yourself to wait it out.

But no matter how many times you try to push it away, the what if won’t leave you alone.

And deep down, you already know you won’t be able to breathe until you know for sure.

So you make the appointment. And then you drive yourself there. Alone.

The waiting room is small, sterile, and too quiet. You sit stiffly in one of the plastic chairs, phone gripped tight in your hands. You refresh your notifications. Again. Again. Hoping for an update.

Nothing.

You swallow hard, tapping your foot against the floor. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy, and for a second, you consider just walking out.

Maybe it really is just stress.

But before you can make up your mind, a nurse calls your name.

You force yourself to stand, legs unsteady as you follow her back. The blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, the pulse oximeter clips onto your finger, and you try not to wince when she frowns at the numbers.

“Heart rate’s a little high,” she notes.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s probably just—” You hesitate, glancing away. “I’ve been anxious.”

She nods, scribbles something on the chart. “What brings you in today?”

You exhale slowly. “I haven’t been feeling great. Lightheaded. Nauseous. My appetite is weird. And, um… I’ve been having some stomach pain.”

The nurse hums, nodding along, but then her next question knocks the air from your lungs.

“Could you be pregnant?”

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. You’re on birth control. You’re careful. This shouldn’t even be a question.

But you’re late. And you do feel off. And there’s that sliver of doubt you haven’t been able to shake.

So instead, you hesitate.

“Maybe.” Your voice is small, unsteady.

She nods again, like she hears that answer all the time, and scribbles another note before setting the clipboard aside.

“We’ll do a test,” she says gently. “Just to be sure.”

And then you’re left alone in the exam room, staring at the speckled tile floor, hands twisted in your lap, heart hammering against your ribs.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’ll handle it, whatever it turns out to be. But no matter how many times you try to convince yourself, your hands are still shaking as you wait for the results.

Alone.

The knock on the door is soft, but it makes you jump.

The nurse steps back inside, glancing at the chart in her hands. “Your test was negative.”

You exhale. Your shoulders dropping, lungs finally expanding. But it’s not a relief. Not really.

Because nothing has changed. Jake is still gone. You’re still waiting. You’re still alone in this.

Your fingers curl against the paper lining of the exam table, the crinkle loud in the silent room. You should feel better. This should ease something. But all it does is leave a hollow ache in your chest.

Because the fear is still there. The uncertainty. The realization that for one brief, terrifying moment, you’d considered what this could have meant.

You press your lips together, nodding vaguely as the nurse talks. She is going on about something. You think she might be recommending rest and hydration. And there’s something about stress management.

You barely hear her.

Because all you can think about is Jake.

How much you miss him. How much you need him to come home. And how utterly terrified you are that he won’t.

By the time you’re walking out of Urgent Care, stepping into the cool night air, the weight of it all crashes down on you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes.

You don’t want to be alone in this anymore.

But for now?

You have no choice.

* * * * *

It happens when you’re least expecting it.

You’re at The Hard Deck, nursing a drink that you don’t really want, when Nat slides onto the stool next to you. She greets you casually, like she always does, but something in her expression shifts when she gets a good look at you.

"You look like hell," she says.

You huff a laugh. "Feel like it too."

She leans in slightly, voice lower. "Jake’s back."

The words hit like a sucker punch to the ribs. You blink. Swallow.

“What?”

“Got back a few days ago.”

She says it so easily, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not the most important thing you’ve heard in weeks.

Your fingers tighten around your glass. A few days. Jake’s been here. Alive. Breathing. Walking around San Diego like everything is normal. And he didn’t tell you.

The realization stings. You force yourself to breathe through it, to keep your face neutral as you take a sip of your drink. “Good for him.”

Nat studies you, like she can hear all the things you don’t say.

If it meant anything to him. If that night, the things unsaid, the way you held onto him meant something, wouldn’t he have reached out?

Wouldn’t he have wanted to see you?

You tell yourself you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter.

But deep down, it does.

Because while he’s been fine walking around, acting like it was just another mission, just another day, you’ve been going through hell.

And now? You don’t know what to do with that.

So you don’t tell him right away. Not about Urgent Care. Not about the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, sick with worry.

But the moment you see him later that night? All of it comes rushing back.

The moment you spot him across the bar, your heart slams against your ribs.

Jake looks exactly the same. Same cocky smile. Same easy confidence. Same damn twinkle in his eye as he laughs at something Coyote says, a beer dangling from his fingers like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Like he didn’t just vanish for three months. Like you didn’t spend sleepless nights wondering if he’d ever make it home. Like that night…the way you curled into him, the way you needed him meant absolutely nothing.

You wait. Wait for him to look over. To acknowledge you. To do something. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even glance your way.

Your stomach twists, but you shove the feeling down. Maybe this is your answer. Maybe you were the only one who spent the last three months thinking about that night.

Maybe it was nothing to him.

If he’s going to act like this never meant anything, like you’re just another face in the crowd then fine.

You can act like that, too.

You tell yourself you won’t look again, but your gaze betrays you. Every few minutes, your eyes flick to where he stands. And every damn time, you catch him already looking.

A half second too long. Just enough to make your pulse stutter.

But neither of you move. Neither of you say a word.

Hours pass like this stolen glances, fleeting eye contact, both of you waiting for the other to be the first to break.

"You know he asked about you, right?" Natasha says, nudging your arm as she slides into the seat beside you.

You blink. “What?”

“While we were deployed,” Bradley adds from across the table. “Not all the time, but enough.” He shrugs. “It meant something to him. That night you went home with him.”

Your chest tightens, but you shake your head. “If it meant something, he would’ve reached out.”

Bradley gives you a look. “He just got back.”

“It’s been three days,” you counter.

“Maybe he thought you would reach out,” Natasha offers.

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “Well, then I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

They exchange a glance, and then Bradley huffs, shaking his head. “Fine. Be stubborn. But you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

Natasha smirks, tipping her glass toward Jake’s direction. “And for the record? He hasn’t stopped looking at you all night.”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You won’t be the first to move. You won’t. The ball is in his court. It’s his move.

But somewhere between your resolve and your next drink, you realize that if you don’t talk to him tonight you’ll regret it.

So you stand and start making your way over to him before you can overthink it or talk yourself out of it.

Jake spots you coming the second you stan. By the time you come to a stop in front of him he’s already turned towards you, his beer poised halfway to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he exhales. “Wanna step outside?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Yeah.”

The night air is cooler than you expect, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. The sounds of the bar fade slightly as you both step onto the patio, stopping near the railing.

Jake leans against it, looking over at you. “How’ve you been?”

You don’t answer. You just wrap your arms around yourself, and that—more than words—tells him everything he needs to know.

His jaw tightens. He looks away for a beat, then nods, exhaling softly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence stretches between you.

Jake shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, quietly he says,“I would’ve called. Sooner, I mean. But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I spent the last three months thinking about that night. Wondering if you would come back home.”

“Were you really that worried about me?”

You let out a small humorless laugh. Then before you can second guess it and change your mind you just say it. “I was late.”

Jake turns fully toward you now, his brows drawing together. “Late? Like…”

Your throat feels tight, but you push through. “Yeah. And you…you weren’t here…none of you were.”

Your eyes are locked on the wooden planks of the patio below you. But you still hear the audible inhale of air that Jake takes.

He clears his throat before he says anything. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “So are you…”

You shake your head. “No.”

Jake exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Shit.”

Neither of you speak for a few minutes. Then he shifts closer to you. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the warmth of him brushes against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You glance away from him, your eyes look out past the sand at the water and the horizon as the last remnants of the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon.

You take a deep breath and then look over at Jake. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time tonight, you let him in. You let him see the fear, the uncertainty, the weight and pressure that you’ve been carrying around for the last three months.

“I guess I didn’t know what you’d say,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Jake goes silent again. And you feel the way the air shifts between you, the way his eyes stay locked on yours but his mouth doesn’t move. Your stomach twists. Your hands start to shake. And suddenly it’s too much.

The weight of the last three months. The waiting. The worrying. The wondering if you’d ever see him again.

You feel your chest tighten. You need to get out of here. Before he can see the way your breathing picks up, before he can see you break, you take a step back. Then another.

Jake doesn’t move.

You turn to go but before you can take another step, his hand closes gently around your wrist.

“Wait.”

His voice is quiet but firm. Steady.

You freeze.

“Just…wait.”

His grip is light, barely holding onto you, like he’s afraid if he pulls too hard, you’ll slip right through his fingers.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. “Jake, I can’t—”

“Please.”

That single word makes you stop. There’s something there in his voice…something raw.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turn back around.

Jake watches you, jaw tight, something heavy in his gaze. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go.

“I didn’t know,” he says finally, voice rough. “I swear to God, I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. “I know.”

He nods, but his brows furrow, like that’s not enough. Like he needs you to really believe it.

His thumb brushes over your wrist absently, a slow, grounding motion. “I wouldn’t have left you alone with…that.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.Because part of you believes him. And part of you doesn’t know what to do with that.

Jake takes a breath. “Come sit with me?”

Your instinct is to say no. To run. To protect yourself before he can hurt you again. But when you meet his eyes, all you see is sincerity.And maybe you’re too tired to fight him anymore.

So you nod.

Jake leads you to one of the patio benches, waiting until you sit before he lowers himself beside you.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The sounds of the bar filter through the open doors, but out here it feels quieter.

“I should’ve called you when I got back,” he admits, voice low.

You blink at him. “You think?”

Jake exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “I thought about you. More than I probably should’ve.” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nat and Rooster were ready to throttle me with how much I talked about you.”

Your heart stutters. “Then why didn’t you—”

“Because I was scared,” he cuts in, meeting your gaze. “Scared I’d come back and you’d tell me that night didn’t mean anything. That I didn’t mean anything.”

Your lips part, stunned into silence.

Jake laughs softly, shaking his head. “Turns out, I’m an idiot.”

You watch him, the raw honesty in his expression, the vulnerability he rarely lets show.

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to ask the question that’s been haunting you since the morning after you last saw him.

“That night…” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, barely audible over the distant hum of the bar. “Did it mean anything? To you?”

Jake’s eyes snap to yours, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s weighing his answer.

“Yeah.” Jake exhales, running a hand through his hair before settling his gaze back on you. “It meant too much.”

Your breath catches. “Jake—”

“I thought about it,” he continues, voice steady but raw. “More times than I should admit. But I convinced myself it was better to leave it alone. That if I reached out, you’d tell me it was a mistake.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Hell, I figured you probably regretted it the second it happened.”

You shake your head instantly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I didn’t.”

You swallow hard, hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I never regretted it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence settles between you, thick and weighted.

Jake watches you like he’s searching for something—like he’s waiting for permission to believe you. Then, slowly, he leans in, elbows on his knees, voice quieter now.

"So where does that leave us?"

You don’t know.

All you know is that after months of silence, of doubt, of wondering—Jake is here. Right in front of you.

And maybe that’s enough.

#Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x You #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader #Jake Hangman Seresin x You

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

experimentation

words: 6.9k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, aged up!sarah (takes place in season 1 but shes 18/19 and rafe is like 22/23 for the fic) smut, lesbian sex, tit play, girl on girl action, scissoring, dildo/sex toys, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blowjob, losing virginity, cheating(ish), reader sleeps with sarah and rafe (not at the same time omg there is NO incest!!), 69ing, female receiving oral, experimenting/unserious?? sex, hooking up to relationship, they say i love you at the end awwww, soft!rafe, i think thats everything jesus christ

it all started with one simple question. sarah sat on the edge of her bed, finishing the top coat of her toenail polish while you braided your mostly dry hair to have loose curls tomorrow.

“have you ever kissed a girl?”

that's all it took. for you to say no, that'd like to,, just to see what it's like, and then to press your lips against sarahs.

you laid in bed together, just kissing. it felt different than any of the guys you've kissed in the past. sarahs lips are softer, sweeter, her tongue gentler when it licks into your mouth.

“do you…” sarah gasps out against your lips. “do you think we could do more?

you blink at her, processing her words and the sudden kiss when you've been just friends for years.

“just to experiment.” sarah shrugs, looking down to your chest, your nipples hard against your shirt. “i wanna…”

“yeah.” you nod. “lets keep going. just… two friends experimenting.” you smile at her. “having fun.”

you've seen each other naked before, so it's not too much of a shock as you strip down. usually it'd be to pull a swimsuit on or change into a dress, you've never sat and really looked at sarah.

“your… your boobs are so nice.” you giggle softly, her tits sit perfectly, even and plump.

“you wanna touch them?” she asks, looking down at her own body.

“yeah.” you nod quickly, crawling the short distance separating you as you reach out with a gentle hand, gently ghosting around the outside of her breasts before moving closer, cupping her tits and feeling how heavy they are in your hands.

“is it okay if i um… lick them?” you question, staring at her perfect nipples, hard and peaked up, practically begging for you to suck them.

“yeah, as long as i get to do it to you too.” sarah giggles gently.

you bend down, cautiously swiping your tongue over her nipple. sarah gently moans, encouraging you on as you wrap your lips around the bud, sucking gently as your palms massage her tits.

sarah presses a hand against the back of your head, gentle and just slightly pushing you down, keeping you against your chest. you don't fight against it, testing what feels best against your tongue, switching between lapping, sucking and even gently pressing your teeth against her chest.

you leave her nipple with a wet kiss before switching to the other side, repeating the movements.

“god, that… that feels good.” sarah moans out as you pull away with a little giggle.

“that was fun. i wish i had your boobs, seriously.”

“oh, shut up.” sarah laughs. “your's are way better than mine.” she glances down at your body. your chest is smaller than hers, but her gaze doesn't stay there for long as her eyes flick down to where your thighs are pressed together.

“it's not really having sex, right?” sarah glances up to you. “we'll still be virgins just… this doesn’t count since we’re just.. experimenting” .”

“yeah.” you nod. “we're friends, there's nothing wrong with just having some fun.”

“okay.” sarah takes a deep breath before pushing the thought out of her mind, done trying to rationalize the want she feels swelling in her lower stomach.

“lay down.” sarah gestures for you to rest your head on the pillow, which you do slowly, keeping your legs together to not reveal too much too early.

sarah climbs over you as your eyes drift to the ceiling before closing when you feel her mouth on you. she keeps to kisses, pressing them all over your front, from your clavicle down to right above your belly button.

“i… i wanna eat you out.” sarah says as your eyes blink open, realizing she's hovering over you.

“okay.” you nod, raising your head to give her a kiss, quickly getting lost in the way your lips move against each others.

sarahs hand plays gently with your chest, rubbing over your nipples with her palm, pressing against them with delightful pressure.

you let out a little whine, hips shifting from side to side as you feel your wetness growing. sarah laughs as she looks down at you. “it's okay, im really horny too.”

she gives you another quick peck, verging on friendly, reminding you that all you're doing is testing things out, trying what it's like to be like with a girl, and there's no one better to experiment with than your closest friend.

sarah moves lower, tapping your thigh as you spread them. she makes herself comfortable between them on her stomach.

she pauses, looking between your spread legs at your bare pussy. she hesitates for barely longer than a second before diving in, mouth pressing against your cunt, tongue sneaking out to lick up your wetness.

“oh fuck!” you squeal, hands fisting into the sheets. “fuck, sarah!”

“does that feel good?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, licking her lips to continue to taste you.

“yeah!” you nod rapidly. “really good. keep going, please.”

“okay.” sarah laughs gently again, moving a little slower this time, licking over your folds before swirling her tongue around your clit. she knows what she likes when touching herself, and tries to replicate it with her tongue on you.

you let yourself get lost in the feeling, knowing you should probably dull your moans to not wake up all of tanneyhill, but as you look down between your legs to see sarahs delicate tongue licking against your cunt, your can't control your sounds.

“im gonna finger you.” sarah says, wanting to make sure you know what she's going to do as you rapidly nod.

she pushes your legs further apart, looking at your entrance as her fingertip slides in, continuing to push into your wet heat until it's buried to the hilt.

“does that feel nice?” she asks.

“really nice. try moving it.” you swallow harshly, your clit needing her mouth back on it.

sarah nods, slowly thrusting her finger in and out, getting used to it as the tempo increases gradually.

“im-im gonna cum once you start eating me out again.” you warn. “i don't know if you want that to happen.”

“of course.” sarah presses her mouth against your leg, kissing your thighs. “isn’t that the whole point of this? well most of it at least” .”

“need you on my clit again then.” you let out a deep breath.

“I got you .” sarah listens quickly, mouth back on your clit as her finger continues, tilting it upward to press right against your sweet spot, making you cry out as her mouth sucks and sucks.

“i-oh my god sarah!” you squeal as your high breaks over the walls, hips pressing up as your entire body shakes, cunt clenching around her finger. sarah licks up your slick before taking a deep breath.

“you actually taste good.” she hums, pulling her finger out and pressing it between her cheeks, sucking the digit like it's a lollipop, swirling her tongue to get the taste off.

“that felt really good too.” you blush, cheeks heating up. “what do you want me to do to you?”

“we should try scissoring.” sarah says. “ive seen it in porn.”

“is that where you got all these ideas from?” you ask, eyebrows raising up.

“yeah.” she nods. “it's hot without guys.”

for the first time, you realize sarah may be looking for more than just a night of fun, and might genuinely see you as someone she's attracted to. you don't have much time to delve deeper as she spreads your thighs, placing her own wet pussy against yours.

“im just gonna-” sarah let's out a gasp as her face twists in pleasure, your bare cunts bumping against each other's as her hips move.

“oh, fuck! sarah!” you squeal. you push yourself up to sit, beginning to move as well, rubbing against her thigh and occasionally her pussy as sarah does the same thing to you, her mouth slackened and tits jigging with every movement.

you long to reach forward and have your mouth around them again, but you're determined to have sarah reach that high that she brought you too.

you tip her back so you can do all the work, grinding and grinding until her whole body tenses up as she cums with a low moan of your name.

you flop back against the bed, sarah crawling in a moment to also place her head on the pillow.

“that was fun.” she says, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

you nod. “we should do that again.”

“well look who it is.” rafe smirks at you, placing a hand on your lower back. “none other than y/n l/n.”

“hey rafey.” you giggle. you have a bit of a love hate relationship with rafe. you bickered a lot when you were younger, but when a guy was messing with you in high school, you went right to rafe who quickly sorted it out.

“you look so pretty in this dress.” he says, tugging you towards the dance floor, a mess of bodies twisting and grinding.

you see rafe often when you're hanging out with sarah, but she stayed home from the party due to a headache, so it's a rare time alone without his sibling.

“dance with me?” he asks, pressing his lips against your ear.

you nod. just because you're fooling around with sarah shouldn't stop you from exploring other options, after all, she's half-dating topper despite diving between your legs during sleepovers.

rafe moves in tempo to the music. you dance back against him, grabbing his hands which are respectfully by his side to place on your hips.

“im not a kid anymore, rafe.” you close the distance between your bodies so rafe is grinding right into your bum. you can feel what's growing in his pants, a slight smile on your face.

“yeah, but you're my little sisters friend. just because i wanna fuck you doesn't mean-”

you turn around suddenly, not waiting to hear the rest of what he has to say. “you wanna fuck me?”

“of course.” rafe smirks, hand trailing down from your lower back to squeeze your ass.

“fuck me then.” you place your hands on his neck, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. the party is at toppers house, so you assume rafe knows how to get you alone as you follow him through the house until you're in a guest bedroom.

“promise you won't tell sarah?” he says, not wanting to deal with her shit for sleeping with you.

“i won't as long as you don't.” you say, knowing rafe doesn't realize how sarah would be just as upset with you too, for sleeping with her brother while you're fooling around with her on the side.

rafe nods, satisfied that this will be a secret as he pulls you against him. his hand grips your ass as his mouth devours yours, so much stronger than sarahs felt against yours. he's harsh, demanding and unforgiving.

your hands fist in his shirt, partially to hold yourself up as his lips attack yours. he slowly steps further into the room until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“take that dress off.” rafe grunts out. “let me see that perfect body.”

you pull your dress off, revealing the small matching set of lingerie you have on underneath. rafe let's out a growl, like a predator who finally got it's prey as he turns you around to face the bed before pushing you down so you flop onto your stomach.

“such a nice ass, kid.” rafe swats your barely covered bum. “anyone ever told you that before?”

“nnnnn.” you hum out as an answer, mouth half pressed into the mattress.

rafe suddenly pauses. “you're not a virgin are you?”

he waits, and when you don't answer, he knows the truth.

“shit.” he groans. “listen, i want you but im not gonna have you lose your virginity at a random party, okay?”

“no, i want it rafe.” you flip over so you're on your back, pouting your lower lip out as you look up at him. “really, i do.”

“and ill take your virginity, but not here, not tonight. when you're not drunk and when i can lay you out and not worry about people barging in on us.”

“okay.” you pout with a slow nod. you're not drunk, but you have had a couple sips of beer, and you understand why rafe is hesitant. “but can we still do something tonight?”

“yeah? you wanna suck my dick or something?” rafe smirks down at you, not expecting you to nod enthusiastically and slink off the bed onto your knees.

“you sure?” he questions. “you don't have to. we could just make out or i could finger you-”

“come here.” you reach out to rafe, tugging him closer by the loops on his pants. you waste no time undoing the button and zipper and pulling the fabric down.

you would feel a lot less confident if you haven't been experimenting with sarah, getting to learn how to use your mouth for pleasure, even though it's a bit different now that it's her brothers dick.

“damn, baby.” rafe groans when you press kisses along his length, wetting his underwear until you get sick of the barrier and tug them down.

rafes cock is already hardened and pops up to hit you on the tip of your nose.

“ouch.” you frown, brows furrowing together when rafe let's out a laugh.

you don't allow him to continue laughing at you as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, sinking down until you feel yourself gag. you pull up only to push your head back down, determined to make this good for rafe.

“shit- fuck!” rafe shouts out, placing a hand on the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, ruining the curls you spent so long perfecting.

you hollow out your cheeks as you suck, tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. you cant go all the way down without his cock going too deep in your throat, so you wrap a hand around the base, gently stroking as your mouth works.

“shit!” rafe hisses out again. “you've done this before, haven't you?”

“nope.” you pull away with a pop. “just like your dick.”

you press a kiss against the head of his cock. it's wet and sloppy with precum and spit, but you don't care.

“come over this weekend so i can fuck you, yeah?” rafe says. you nod before sinking your lips back down over his cock, not thinking in the moment that you'd already made plans with sarah.

“i got something.” sarah whispers, giving you a wink.

“what?” you lean in, waiting for her to whisper in your ear, but she just shakes her head, a mischievous look on her face.

“you'll see later.” she takes a bite of her pizza, rolling her eyes as rafe walks in.

“hey.” he grins at you, his smile stretching wide as he grabs a piece of pizza from the open box. “how you doing y/n?”

“leave my friend alone, rafe!” sarah says, making you giggle.

“im doing well rafe, how are you?”

he just nods and smiles, knowing that you're going to sneak out of sarahs room just like you'd planned after sucking him off at the party, where he came deep down your throat.

rafe manages to ghost his fingers along your back as he leaves, but not before taking another piece of pizza.

“god, he's such a dick.” sarah rolls her eyes.

you just nod. arguing about it would certainly give yourself away, and you're not willing to risk ruining sleeping with either of them. even though you're just fooling around with sarah, and it will surely stop when she gets a boyfriend, you're having a lot of fun for now. it makes you feel closer to her, like this is a secret you'll carry together for a long time. you even imagine drunkenly spilling it to your husbands twenty years from now when you're both happily married off.

you go through the motions like normal, finishing eating, saying goodnight to ward before disappearing into sarahs room. it's not until the door closes and locks behind you that there's a shift.

sarah immediately begins to strip, clearly eager and waiting for this moment. you follow her actions until you're both nude. if you thought you were comfortable being naked around her before, it's only increased since fooling around together.

“okay, look under the blanket.” sarah says. you didn't even realize a fluffy blanket had been obviously draped over something. you pull the fabric away to reveal a pink dildo. your eyes widen as you look to sarah.

“you bought a dildo?” you hiss out, a smile coming to her face as she eagerly nods.

“you gotta use it on me, oh my god. please, y/n?” she pouts. “there's this guy i like and… and i think i might give it up to him.”

“topper?” you question, surprised because it seems like she's been distancing herself from him.

sarah just smiles shyly. “oh my god, who?” you squeal.

“i really can't tell.” sarah says. she doesn't know your opinion on john b, and doesn't want to risk upsetting you.

“fine, then you don't know who i might be giving it up to.” you shrug, flopping down onto the bed as you pick up the dildo, inspecting it.

“you what?” sarah asks, her eyes wide.

“if you wanna keep secrets, i can to.” you shrug. in truth, you'd never tell her that it's her brother. you're not even sure you'd admit it to sarah if you were ten years down the line and married to rafe. your friendship is too precious, and you know she'd be extremely upset.

“ugh, fine.” sarah crosses her arms, lifting her boobs up in a way that has you licking your lips.

“get over here.” it's all you have to say for sarah to climb onto the bed, your mouth attaching to her chest the second she's close enough.

you suck and play with her tits while you fool around with the dildo, putting it between her legs but just running it through her folds.

you're nowhere near done with her tits when sarah gently pushes your head lower. you let out a whine but ultimately concede.

“im just nervous to have it inside me.” sarah admits. “anxious.”

“it's okay.” you coo out as she lays back, spreading her legs. “ill help you out and go slow, that's what friends are for afterall.” you shrug.

you decide it'll be best to start with your finger as you press your digit into her. she's so wet you can easily thrust it in and out, but you still use your other hand to rub at her clit, just to relax sarah even more.

“you ready?” you question after rubbing for a while.

“mhm.” she whines out, chest moving up and down, partly from nerves and partly from pleasure.

you pull your finger out and grab the dildo again. you take a moment to rub the entire length against her, getting it thoroughly wet before pressing the head of the fake cock against her entrance. you move slowly as you push it in, watching her pussy bloom around it.

“fuck, sarah.” you moan out. “this is hot.”

“come sit on my face.” sarah says, her eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, needing the distraction of eating out your pussy.

“mmkay.” you hold the dildo pushed inside of her as you swing your hips over, briefly hovering your pussy over her face. you begin to lower slowly, only for sarah to grab your hips and slam your cunt down onto her awaiting tongue.

you let out a soft moan, eyes sliding shut as her mouth works against your folds. you finally remember that you need to move when her tongue thrusts into your cunt.

you blink out the haze of pleasure as you start to move the dildo gently in and out, moaning slightly at the slick noises, wet and sloppy as you thrust it inside of her.

“harder.” sarah says against your skin, voice vibrating over your pussy.

you speed up the movements of your hand, pushing in harder and faster. you drop your mouth to her pussy as well, needing to taste her against your tongue as you lick around her entrance before moving up to her clit.

“shit.” sarah moans out, hands squeezing harder at your thighs. you hope they don't bruise as you'll have to explain it to rafe later.

you move as fast as your arm will allow, bicep cramping up as you focus in on her clit, sucking as intensely as you can until you feel a rush of wetness gushing out of sarahs cunt. you pull the dildo out as she squirts, wetting the sheets.

“fuck!” sarah shouts. you're glad that the walls in tanneyhill are mostly soundproof.

“holy shit that was hot.” you giggle. you go to move from hovering over her body, but sarahs hands are rough on your hips as her mouth delves back in, wasting no time teasing as she flicks her tongue over your clit until your own high bursts, your cunt pressing into her mouth, wetting her face.

you flop to the side with a loud sigh, both equally satiated.

sarah moves to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “thanks for trying that with me.”

“of course.” you smile, kissing her again, mouth devouring hers.

“im so tired now though.” she giggles before letting out a yawn.

“sleep, it's okay.” you coo out. you both roll away slightly from each other, adjusting to get comfortable on the bed and pillows as sarah is quickly snoring. you keep yourself awake, occasionally glancing over until you're sure she's been asleep long enough to not easily wake.

you slide out of the bed, keeping your movements as quietly as you possibly can as you sneak into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and quickly cleaning yourself off so you don't already smell like sex.

you slip nothing but a robe on before tiptoeing out of sarahs room. you'd be absolutely fucked if ward or rose found you, but you rely on the hope that it's late enough for them not to be roaming the hallways.

you don't knock as you arrive at rafes room, opening the door and slipping in before locking it behind you.

“jesus, i thought you'd never come.” rafe stands quickly, cupping your cheeks as he kisses you, hot and wet as your hands press against his abs, running up and down against his muscles.

“sorry, sarah took forever to fall asleep.” you whisper against his lips. your eyebrows rise when he reaches down, lifting you easily to move you towards the bed.

you're glad rafe is just in his underwear, not wanting to wait before you get his cock inside of you, especially after seeing how much sarah liked the dildo.

you feel dirty sleeping with your best friends brother right after fooling around with her, but the thoughts quickly dissipate as rafe tugs on the belt of the robe, parting the two sides to reveal your completely nude body.

“fuck, baby. you're trying to kill me with those perfect tits.” rafe bends to drop his mouth around your nipple, toying with them in a way that's so different to sarah. she focuses on your pleasure, what feels good to you, while rafes movements are purely for him, doing what he wishes to without too much consideration for you, especially as his teeth sink into the plumpness of your breast.

you loop your legs around his hips, pulling him in until your crotches bump together. you grind your hips up and down, wetting his underwear as your clit brushes over the soft fabric.

“shit.” rafe groans, reaching down to push his underwear down his thighs.

you keep grinding, his bare cock now slipping through your folds, getting it significantly lubricated. rafes cock catches on your entrance just as his tongue flicks over your nipple. your back arches off the bed with a loud moan as he pushes in halfway, taking your virginity in one smooth motion.

“w-wait!” you squeal out.

rafe looks up, a worried look on his face as he pulls his cock out of you. “what's wrong?”

“condom!” you say. “im not on anything.”

rafe frowns. “we gotta get you on birth control so i can cum inside of you.”

“you wanna keep fucking me?” you ask with a smile as he moves to his nightstand, grabbing out a condom and tearing open the foil.

“of course.” rafe looks at you like it's obvious as he rolls the rubber down over his cock. “i swear im gonna take you out on dates and shit too.”

“rafey you've gone soft.” you giggle as he leans over the bed again, cock lined up with your pussy again. you clench around nothing, waiting to have him back inside.

“had a crush on you forever.” he says, pressing a kiss against your lips. “just couldn't do anything with sarah always around.”

you hum, shifting your hips from side to side. you don't want to talk about your best friend, you want rafe to fuck you, even if your pussy is already sensitive from your earlier orgasm with sarah.

“tell me if it hurts or im going too fast.” rafe gives you one last sweet kiss before his entire demeanor changes. he pushes his cock into you with a grunt, giving you only the smallest moment to adjust before he begins to move.

his cock pushes in and out, in and out, his balls slapping against you with every movement. you're forced to do nothing but lay back and moan, trying to keep yourself quiet as he pummels you.

rafe straightens up, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed as he stands, using as much force as he can to fuck into you, knowing he probably should go gentler for your first time, but he can't help himself.

“oh my god, rafe!” you squirm, hands seeking to grip onto something until you settle for one hand over his, the one securely holding your waist, while your other hand fists in his sheets.

rafe pushes his thumb against your clit, determined to make you cum quickly for the first time you're together, not knowing that you're already sensitive from cumming earlier in the day.

“p-please.” you whine out. you're not even sure what you're pleading for as tears well in your eyes from the pure pleasure of how hard and good rafe is fucking you.

“you close baby?” he coos out, a smirk gracing his features, seeing just how fucked out and lost in his cock you are.

“yeah.” you nod rapidly. “real close.”

rafe somehow manages to move faster, cock pushing into you at a rapid pace while his thumb flicks aggressively over your clit until your high breaks, back arching off the bed as your cunt pulses around rafes cock, triggering his own orgasm as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming deep inside of you, wishing there wasn't the barrier of the condom so he could truly flood you.

rafe collapses forward against you, both breathing heavily. he pulls out carefully but doesn't move enough to discard his condom yet, letting his cock soften against your lower stomach.

“that was really good.” you admit shyly.

rafe smiles gently then kisses you, hands gently petting your sides, before moving down to your thighs, rubbing and making sure you're relaxed.

“i have to get back to sarah.” you say with a pout.

“shit, you're right.” rafe frowns, standing straight and pulling the condom off, tossing it in the trash before readjusting his underwear to cover himself.

“come here.” you reach your arms out, giving rafe another kiss before you do up your robe and stand with slightly wobbly legs.

“y/n.” rafe says, cupping your cheek before you head towards the door. “im serious about taking you out on a date.”

“i know.” you giggle softly, getting on your tiptoes to give him a final goodnight kiss before slipping away, thankful sarah is still fast asleep when you make it back inside her room.

“i lost it.” sarah whispers to you, a genuine smile on her face.

“oh my god!” you whisper-scream, noting the way several of the older people scattered around turn to look at you.

“with topper?” you question, tugging sarah away from the crowd.

“no.” she admits shyly. “with uh… with someone else.”

“girl, who?” you ask, finding a random empty room in the country club and stepping inside.

“i can't say-”

“holy shit, is it john b?” your eyes widen and judging by sarahs reaction, you figured out the right person.

you knew about john b staying at tanneyhill, it's why you've been avoiding it lately and not seeing sarah as much. you didn't mind john b, but prefered to keep your distance, especially since ward was only looking after him because he had charges brought against him that ward was able to help out with.

“isn't he dangerous?”

“no.” she shakes her head quickly, a blush ghosting over her face as she smiles. “he's… the sweetest guy. and so funny.”

“but didn't he…” you trail off.

“oh, no.” she shakes her head rapidly again. “he's innocent. he was falsely accused, that's why dad took him in.”

“okay…” you shrug. “as long as you're happy girl, ill support you.”

“this is why you're my best friend.” sarah says, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, pulling you in for a tight hug. “thanks for helping me with everything. i felt so confident when we finally did it.”

“yeah, im gonna need details.” you giggle. you should tell sarah that you lost it to, but the excitement sparking in her eye makes you hesitate.

you frown as you walk into tanneyhill, looking around for sarah before you bump into rafe, literally, as you round a corner not hearing is footsteps and crash straight into him.

��shit.” rafe curses, hands coming to your shoulders, looking you up and down. “you okay?”

“mhm.” you nod. “i just don't know where sarah is. i texted her and she didn't respond and she's not here.”

“she's probably with that pogue.” rafe frowns, shaking his head slightly from side to side. “but now that you're here…”

you can't help the smile that spreads over your cheeks. “what about that date you promised me on?” you question. you've slept with rafe several times since that first night, but whenever you made plans to go out, things got interrupted, either by ward or sarah.

“ill take you wherever you want to go, princess.” rafe slings his arm around your shoulder, leading you out towards the door. you didn't prepare for a date, but it's not like rafe hasn't seen practically every dress in your closet.

“how about just to dinner?” you loop your arm around his back, resting your hand on his waist. “i want you.”

rafe throws his head back in a laugh. “someone is needy.”

ever since you stopped also getting off with sarah since she got serious with john b, you've relied solely on rafe to fulfill your urges.

it feels more natural than being with sarah, but at the same time more serious. you're thinking something could genuinely come out of your time with rafe, whereas you know sarah was only there for experimenting, for fun.

dinner goes by smoother than you could have imagined, rafe on his best behavior to impress you, taking extra care in doing every gentlemanly thing possible, whether it's opening doors for you or pulling out your chair, even going as far as to tell the waiter your order, already knowing your preferences and that you don't like talking to strangers.

by the time you get back to tanneyhill, you're giggly and anxious to get alone with rafe. what you don't expect is to see sarah standing there in the hallway, eyes wide as she sees the way rafe has you tucked against him.

“sarah, let me explain.” you say, but she turns away and runs to her room before you can get another word out.

“baby, just let her go-” rafe says, but you're already chasing after her.

“ill be back, promise!” you call as you dash up the stairs, managing to make it into sarahs room before she locks the door.

“seriously?” she shouts. “of all people, you sleep with my brother?”

“sarah…” you say cautiously, seeing how upset she is, how fast her chest is heaving up and down. “we just had our first date. it just… came out of nowhere. i really like him though. its not that different than you and john b.”

“dont bring him up right now.” she hisses out. “this is different! you were messing around with me and my brother?”

“no!” you lie. you know its wrong, but theres no way sarah would ever find out you were sleeping with both of them, and you want to preserve her feelings as much as you can. “this was our first date tonight. we haven’t done anything, but sarah-” you make sure shes looking at you, making eye contact. “we will. and you have to be okay with that, just like i was okay with you getting with john b.”

sarah lets out a deep sighs before nodding. “im sorry. you’re right. i just… i just liked having both of you. i know we were just experimenting, but it felt so good to be close to you like that.”

you move forward, wrapping your arms around her shoulders in a tight hug. “you’re always gonna have me, sarah. that’s what best friends are for.”

“i love you.” she says honestly. “youre a great friend, i was just… shocked.”

“its okay.” you say honestly. “hes your brother, we fooled around, youre allowed to be weirded out.”

“why don’t you take a few days? ill leave you be and you can just… adjust.” you know this won’t be the end of your friendship, youre too close, gone through too much.

“thank you.” sarah squeezes you back. “ill talk to you soon.”

“take your time.” you say, hesitating slightly before pressing a kiss against her lips. she may be with a guy now, and you may be with rafe, but that’ll never change what you’ve done.

you turn to leave, to allow sarah to process her emotions in peace when she calls out to you. “y/n?”

you turn back around to look, a soft smile on your face that quickly turns into a laugh as she says “can you and rafe just not be too loud? i dont need to hear you banging.”

“rafe?” you whisper, stepping into his room to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, head hung low. “hey, rafe.”

“please, just go.” rafe sighs, looking up at you. thats when you see the tears in his eyes, not yet running down his cheeks, but gathering there like dew drops on grass.

“its okay.” he waves his hand. “you’re leaving me, i get it. leaving for her just like everyone else does.”

“what?” you question, shutting the door behind you and locking it.

“im not leaving you. i came back because sarah is fine. im not gonna give up what we have.” you cross quickly to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him forward, allowing his face to press into your stomach.

rafe wraps his arms around your thighs, letting out a sigh of relief as he presses a kiss against your tummy, over the sweatshirt that you’re wearing that's actually his, given to you after the sun and temperature dropped.

“come here, please.” rafe tugs at your hand as you move to straddle him, sitting on his lap as rafes mouth finds yours, lips moving over yours softly, allowing you to relax into the sweet kiss and into his body, slumping against his chest.

“i want you.” you whisper against his lips. “i want you bare. no condom.”

“baby, your birth control doesn’t start yet-”

“i dont care. ill take a plan b in the morning. i want you inside me, please rafey.”

rafe nods quickly, he’s certainly not going to argue when he’s been waiting so long to fill you up.

“whatever you want, baby.” he’s determined in that moment to give you absolutely everything you ask for, from this point on.

rafe moves, easily picking you up to lay you on your back on the bed. his mouth captures yours and doesn’t leave it as his hands move over your body, cupping your breasts, pressing against your waist, and then disappearing under your clothes.

he only breaks the kiss to allow your sweatshirt and shirt to be removed, pulling it over your head and tossing it away. as much as rafe longs to wrap his lips around your nipple, he keeps his mouth on yours and settles for his fingers and hands to toy with your chest.

rafe works his pants off and then yours, pressing his body down as your thighs spread, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grinds into you.

“i-i need you so bad baby.” rafe hates to admit that his cock is painfully hard, straining out to have you.

“you have me.” you whisper against his lips, tugging your underwear to the side as you pull his cock out. you don’t even care to undress any further, rubbing his cock through your folds before letting go when you line him up with your entrance.

rafe pushes in slowly, carefully, like hes giving you a chance to change your mind. when you just let out a moan, he begins to speed up. despite his thrusts being fast and hard, theres a gentleness to it, an air of romance as he takes you.

his hands travel all over your body, like hes trying to memorize every inch of you with his palms.

you’re thankful for rafes lips against yours, swallowing your moans as you think of sarah sitting in her room, processing her best friend sleeping with her brother. the best friend that she had her first sexual experience with, now on the verge of cumming thanks to rafes cock.

“close. are you sure you want me inside?” rafe asks. you nod quickly. “please, want you to fill me up.”

“you got it baby.” rafe grunts as he moves. you feel his cock swell inside of you and your eyes widen, not used to the feeling as his cum begins to pump into you, filling you to the brim as rafe moans above you.

“you okay?” rafe asks, his chest heaving, high still working through his body, but wanting to reassure you.

“yeah.” you lean up to kiss him. “so good.”

“what did you tell him?” sarah asks.

rafe walks in with a smile on his face, but it quickly drops when john b steps through the other entrance.

“that we were going on a double date, i didn’t say with who.” you giggle. “what did you tell john b?”

“just to meet me here for dinner.” sarah shrugs. your boyfriend's don't have to get along, but they at least need to be decent enough to each other to not care when you and sarah hang out.

“oh shit.” you both stand quickly from your booths, making your way over to your respected partners.

“baby-” you warn him.

“fuck no.” he crosses his arms. “im not doing on a double date with my sister and that prick.”

“yes you are. because im asking you very nicely and ill give you head in the car on the way home.” you place your hands on his chest, a pleading look in your eye as your bottom lip sticks out.

“fine.” rafe grunts out. “but im not gonna pretend to be nice to him.”

the restaurant thankfully doesn't explode into a fight, but rafe and john b barely mutter a single word, which is fine by you and sarah as you spend the entire time gossiping before parting ways. you leave with rafe while she gets into the twinkie.

“thanks for being such a good boyfriend.” you say, bending over the center console to give rafe a kiss on the cheek. “now do you want me to suck you off in the parking lot, or while you drive us home?”

“while i drive so i can fuck you as soon as we're back.” rafe grunts out.

rafe cums twice down your throat in the drive back home, but he's still not satisfied as he drags you up to his room, not even allowing you to do anything other than give rose a quick wave in form of a greeting before rushing up the stairs.

“you're lucky i love you, i wanted to punch that fucking pogue in the face.” rafe grunts out as he starts tearing away your clothing. he notices you standing completely still and stops, wondering if he pushed things too far.

“you just said you love me.”

rafe blinks, realizing that the words did slip. “of course i love you.”

you let out a loud whine before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “you love me! my rafey baby has gone so soft, omg!”

“okay, you're being ridiculous and im trying to fuck you.” rafe rolls his eyes dramatically as you coo and pinch at his cheeks until he swats your hands away.

you allow rafe to push you back onto the bed as you stare up at him with a smile on your face. “hey.” you tap his cheek, slightly blushed red from embarrassment of letting the words slip. “i love you too.”

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