#it hurts me each time god dammit

[radiotorn]

i used to be their smiley :((((((

[strang3lov3]

Lie to Me

Joel catches you red handed (3.7k)

Tags- dark!joel, i think we should call him darkdaddy!joel all in favor say aye, one shot, smut, dubcon, just the tip, oral sex (f! receiving) fingering, come shot, comeplay, overstim, handjob, coercion, masturbation, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced/virgin!reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified (legal☝️) age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, implied abuse, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nicknames kiddo and pumpkin, Depeche Mode references because you can’t stop me. Balanced mix of Joel being mean and tender.

A/N - been a while since we’ve seen this guy, huh? Everyone give him your warmest welcome <3 i wanted to warm up with him before getting started on this joel's whole story so, here it is. and I am FINALLY done with this semester, so for about a month you’re gonna get a heavy fucking dose of strang3lov3. Apologies in advance. @endlessthxxghts, you know what you did you sick fuck. thank youuuuuu ♡ and thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes!

The warm bath Joel gives you each night is your favorite part of the day. Always. Washing it all away, both the good and the bad. All that dirt swirling down the drain. The delicate soap, the tingling when the water is a little too hot. Bath time is quiet. Joel doesn’t talk much, and neither do you. And he’s gentle, gentle as he washes you. Tender hands rubbing your skin, mindful of the bruises and contusions and the scratches and scrapes he leaves you. He tells you he doesn’t like to hurt you, but that you leave him no choice when you disobey the way you do. 

After helping you out of the tub, Joel thoroughly dries you off with a clean yellow towel. He’s a little rough as he does it, rubbing your skin too hard, tugging at your hair as he squeezes out the water. “Joel,” you whine. 

“I know, I know. M’tryin’ to be gentle,” he says. “You’re tender-headed. Makes my job difficult.”

“You always call me difficult.”

“‘Cause you are difficult, pumpkin. Challenging. Got my work cut out with you.”

You shiver when Joel hangs your towel back up. He unscrews the lid of a container of lotion, scooping out a generous amount. He rubs the cold cream into your skin, up and down your arms and legs. You’re not such a big fan of this part. “It’s cold, Daddy.”

“Sorry, kid. Nothin’ much I can do about that,” Joel replies.  

“Could warm it in your hands.”

Joel eyes you, brow raised. You’re testing him. He knows to expect it, you pushing his buttons. “And you could grow some thicker skin.” 

After moisturizing your skin, Joel reaches in the cabinet for a tube antibiotic cream and dabs a bit on each of your wounds, rubbing the ointment in. “Yeah…they’re healin’ up good,” he murmurs. “Be gone in no time. Alright now, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Joel lightly swats your ass and sends you to your room, following closely behind you. His knees crack more frequently with his steps, fuck, he’s getting old. 

You bounce on the bed as Joel opens a drawer of your dresser, pulling out different pajama sets. “Let’s see what we got here,” Joel says, more to himself than to you. He shows you both options, “Blue stripes or green plaid.”

“That’s not green,” you point out, “That’s teal.”

“Mm. Clever, smartass. Now pick.”

“Neither. I wanna wear one of your shirts.”

Trouble. You know exactly which strings to pull with Joel wrapped around your finger. He rolls his eyes, biting down on a smile as he puts both pajama sets in your dresser and leaves to fetch you one of his t-shirts. “Arms up,” he tells you as he returns. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel pulls the shirt over your head, the fabric covering just enough of your body to keep you decent. You pull back the quilt on your bed and slip under it, and wrap a plush blanket around your shoulders. 

“Scoot.” Joel sits right next to you, the springs of the bed groaning and creaking with his weight. “God dammit,” he hisses, adjusting for his sore back. Joel reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his slightly crooked reading glasses to put them on, annoyed at the way they never sit quite right on his face. He runs a hand through his graying curls, then turns on your lamp and reaches for the book he’s been reading you. He uses the dog-eared page to find his place in the book, something that makes you cringe. “I don’t like when you do that,” you tell him. 

“Do what?”

“Fold the pages.”

“You sound like the librarian,” Joel jokes. “Why don’t I find you some paints or somethin’ and you make me a pretty bookmark then, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Whatcha gonna paint for me?” Joel waits for your response, peering down at you as he pushes a bit of hair out of your face. “Don’t know yet?”

“Mm-mm.”

“S’okay. You got time to decide.”

Joel begins reading to you, making sure you’re following along with him. You rest your head on his strong bicep, your hands wrapped around his forearm. You trace the veins there, counting the scars and marks on his skin. His hands are so weathered and large. 

When Joel finishes the chapter, he closes the book, this time putting a penny between the pages to hold his place instead of folding the corners down. “We’ll read more tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie instead,” he offers. Joel puts his massive, warm hand against your cheek and pulls your head towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep, pumpkin.”

Joel leaves then, shutting your door but not before turning on your nightlight. You miss his warmth immediately, the weight of him on the bed with you. He didn’t make you finish tonight, either. You’re sort of…itching for it, like you didn’t know how much you need it until now that it’s out of reach. 

You’re not supposed to do it on your own. Joel says you don’t know what you’re doing, that only he can touch you there, be it his fingers or his tongue. But you’ve touched yourself there on your own before, and it felt good. Not as good when Joel does it, but almost the same. 

You spread your legs wide, your hand going straight for your clit only for a moment, then bringing your fingers to your mouth to spit on them, just how Joel does. You reach for your pussy again, rubbing tight circles into your clit. 

It feels okay. Fine. You close your eyes, focusing on the small amount of pleasure you feel. Picturing things you find erotic, like the romance books you read in without Joel’s knowledge or Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother. It makes you feel a little guilty to fantasize about him like this, but it feels thrilling, too. A special, private secret only you know about. 

You hold your breath as you work yourself, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise circles in an attempt to determine which way feels better. Which direction does Joel do it? You spread your legs wider, testing out bigger and smaller circles. It’s been maybe five minutes maximum, and you’re feeling impatient. That’s another thing Joel tells you that you are, along with being difficult. Impatient. Stubborn, too. 

Joel pushes his fingers inside you when he makes you come, so you try doing that to yourself. Nothing much happens when you do it, sort of like when you try to tickle yourself. Your fingers aren’t as thick, as long, as deft as Joel’s are. But you try all the same. 

Whining, whimpering Joel’s name, the squeaking of the bed while you rock your hips into your own hand, Joel hears it all on the baby monitor hidden in your room. Broken moans in the crackling static. 

He’s only curious, wanting to measure your self control, if you even have any. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this and yet, you’re doing it anyway. Defiant. He gives you an inch and you take a mile, every single time. Always touching what’s forbidden to you, be it the handle of a door left unlocked or your own cunt. 

Maybe he’s gone soft. Maybe Joel’s too easy on you. He doesn’t like to punish you, but what else can he do when you leave him no choice? 

In truth, Joel likes this about you. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the game. And when his fingers are inside you, despite all that whimpering and crying, what’s really there? Arousal pooled at your entrance, twitching thighs and moans you do your very best to swallow. You’re all bark, no bite. You like it this way. His way. You just need a little guidance. 

Joel listens to you fuck yourself on your fingers for a little while longer, palm pressed against his bulge as your frustrated noises pour in through that tinny speaker. He understands, truly. Can’t sleep without orgasming - he can’t either, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be listening to you all night if he doesn’t make you come soon. And therein lies the problem - Joel gives in too much. He’s spoiled you rotten. 

Joel gets up and out of bed, takes heavy steps toward your bedroom. He can practically see you behind that oak door even before opening it - legs spread beneath the quilt, brow pinched together as you huff and pant in both frustration and focus. 

Joel twists your door knob slowly, and silently pushes the door in. He takes the quietest of steps toward your bed, standing above you with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you. You look just as wrecked as he predicted. 

“Psst.” 

You freeze, eyelids flying open to see Joel glaring at you in the dark, his features harsh under the lack of light. You quickly move your hand-

“Nuh-uh, don’t you move,” Joel interrupts. “What’re you doin’ up so late? S’well fuckin’ past your bedtime, young lady.” 

“I’m not-”

“Think it through. You really wanna lie to me? Even after what happened to ya the last time you pulled that shit?”

Your cheeks heat up, your hands shaking. “I’m…uh…” your voice wobbles, you swallow thickly. 

“Spit it out.” 

“I’m touching myself.”

“I see that,” is all Joel replies. A silence hangs as you wait for him to continue. The ticking clock sounds louder, the groaning wind against your window. “But you know you ain’t s’posed to be doin’ yourself, kiddo. We talked about this. S’the rules, right?”

“Right,” you whisper. 

Joel nods, biting his inner cheek as he sits down on your bed, holding one of your feet through the quilt. “You’ve got quite the tendency of disobeying your daddy, you know. What’m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug and turn away from him to avoid his disappointed expression. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I just thought you forgot to make me come tonight, daddy, but I needed it. Please don’t be mad at me right now. I’m really sorry.” 

Your apology tugs at Joel’s heartstrings. “Got me wrapped around your fuckin’ finger,” he groans, rubbing his large hand up and down your leg. “You win, kid. I’ll let it slide. But you promise me it won’t happen again, ‘cause I don’t like havin’ to punish you.”   

“I promise.”

“Attagirl,” Joel whispers, smiling at you. He leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead, his wiry facial hair both scratches and tickles your skin. “Alright, now. Let’s see what you’re workin’ with,” he says, folding your quilt down your torso, and bunching it at the end of your bed. “Sounded like you were havin’ trouble, hm? S’that right?”

Joel doesn’t have to wait for your answer to know the truth. He pulls your hands away from your center, fingertips pruned and slick with your arousal. “Oh, pumpkin,” he tsks. “Look at the mess you made.” 

He spreads your legs far apart and sits between them, then licks one of his thumbs and brings it to your core. He slides the digit up and down your folds, circling your clit here and there. “Joel,” you whine breathlessly. 

“I know, I know, I know. Poor thing. You’re all outta sorts, huh?” he coos. “Gimme your hand. You don’t know what you’re doin’ at all.”

You hold your hand in front of yourself. Joel takes it, sucking on your fingers, growling at the taste of your wet before lowering it to your pussy. “Gotta give her a bit of finesse,” Joel instructs, dragging your fingers up and down your folds, just how he did with his own fingers. “Can’t dive right in. Gotta work up to it. See?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Am I doing it right? Like?”

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Give her a lil’ more, now. Rub that clit. Gentle, steady,” he directs, helping you to touch yourself. It fills him with a primal sort of power, being able to instruct you how to best touch yourself, knowing you’ll never be able to replicate his perfection. “Nice an’ slow, now. That’s it. Nope, slow it down,” he reminds you. 

You whine his name, frustrated with how long this is taking. “It’s not - it’s not working.”

“Easy, sweetheart, I know you’re hurtin’. M’only tryin’ to help,” he says. “Gotta work on that attitude.”

You speed up your ministrations, frantically chasing a release that is painfully out of reach. Joel swats your bare thigh, a warning. “Gotta breathe,” Joel advises you. “Can’t force it. Let it come to ya.”

“I’m try-”

“I know you’re tryin’.”

Your tummy rises and falls with your uneven breaths, fingers slipping on your wet heat. You can’t seem to find the right pace to rock your hips at, and you’re biting your lips raw to conceal the words threatening to spill that Joel doesn’t let you speak. 

“Alright, enough of that.” Joel pushes your hand away, and you cry in frustration. “You’re hurtin’ her. Daddy’s gonna take care of this now,” he whispers more to himself than to you, lowering his body. His hot breath fans over your slick cunt as he puts both of his wide, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs, opening you up wide for him. Poor fucking pussy, all swollen and throbbing and aching. Joel swallows hard and presses his lips against your folds, mumbling, “Gonna kiss her all better,” he says.

He begins with kisses, kissing your lips, nipping at your inner thighs. You’re dripping, leaving a puddle of arousal on the sheets. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your sex, how you vibrate with a need only Joel can satisfy. He squeezes the generous flesh of your thighs with his fingertips harshly, just shy of bruising you. Though he could, if he wanted to. But he is curious what your skin looks like unblemished by his violence. 

With a flattened tongue, Joel licks a long stripe from the bottom of your slit right to the top, rounding your clit before repeating the action. The room is quiet, save for the way Joel breathes steadily in and out of his nose that’s pressed against you, teasing you. And your quiet moans, sweet little whimpering noises spilling from your lips with every exhale. 

Joel circles your entrance all wet and sloppily, taking care to press a couple of more kisses against your folds before dipping his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal from the hole it drips from. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper. 

“Hey.” he swats your ass cheek. “Is that how good girls are s’posed to use their mouths? Hm?”

“No, daddy.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause those pretty lips of yours are for kissin’ daddy’s cock. Right?” 

“R- yeah. M’sorry.”

After chastising you for swearing, Joel dives right back in. Your hands find Joel’s scalp so you can tug on his hair, twirling your fingers around those silvery curls. The action makes Joel smile. God, your innocence. 

He licks at your slick folds, sucking one into your mouth and then the other, neglecting the little part of you that needs him the most. He savors you like this, the scent of your musk, your arousal like honey on his tongue. When you’ve soaked his face, when your thighs are twitching under his wide palms, only then does Joel circle your clit. You shake and shudder, muscles straining under Joel’s grip as he forces you to stay wide open to eat the most sensitive piece of you. You’re dripping wet, clit throbbing and pulsing under his tongue. “Focus right here, pumpkin,” he murmurs, reaching up to grab your chin and tilt your face down. “Daddy wants to see his favorite eyes.” 

Once you nod, Joel lets his hand trail back down your body. Instead of using it to hold you open, he turns his head to the side and brings two calloused fingers to his mouth, soaking them in his saliva before pushing them into your entrance. He curls them against the spongy spot inside you, its location is committed to his memory. You dance on his tongue, squirming and whining and writhing as he works you with his fingers. Joel pulling your strings, watching how you move. You’ll do anything.

“Yeah, daddy’s fingers do it better, huh?” he taunts. “Poor girl.”

God, it’s hard for Joel to eat you in the way he knows he should. It’s meant to be an act of love and it certainly is in some ways, sure it is. But really, it’s all for Joel. It’s all selfish, voraciously consuming you like you’re the first meal he’s seen in days, biting at your flesh like he means to tear it off the bone. His tongue laves over your sex, wiry beard rubbing your inner thighs raw - he’ll put ointment on your skin there, too, to calm down the irritation. 

He strokes that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, pleasure building quickly. It blooms deep in your gut, roiling up your spine and down your legs. “Oh, Joel,” you moan, babbling incoherently. “Oh, f- oh…” 

The wet, sticky noises as you’re kissed, licked, sucked, lapped at, teased, stroked. The quiet as release approaches - holding your breath, muscles tightening, a pressure building. And then oh, there it is, there you are. Coming on Joel’s tongue, gushing into his hand. 

Joel licks his palm, then sits back up. He sets your feet back down on the bed, mindful of your achy thighs. Your moans have quieted, replaced with peaceful breaths as you lie with your eyes closed. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t finished with you quite yet,” Joel says, lightly smacking your cheek to wake you up. “You know the drill. You get yours and daddy gets his.”

Slotted between your legs, Joel kneels then, knees cracking as they press into the plush of your mattress. He pulls the string of his worn-out pajama pants and pushes the waistband down, and his hard cock lands against his tummy with a smack. “Gimme a hand, pumpkin,” he says, and you hold out your hand for him. He spits into your palm, then wraps your fingers around his thick shaft. “All the way up an’ all the down,” he reminds you. “Jus’ like I showed ya.”

Joel leans over you as you begin stroking him, gliding your palm up and down his length. 

“Tighter,” he says, reaching between your bodies to squeeze your hand tight. He keeps his hand there as you work him, keeping the pressure to his liking. “Attagirl.”

He works a twist into the motion now, bucking his hips into your hand. You admire the look of his soft tummy, the gray and white hairs smattered around the base of his cock. Joel’s cock pulses under your touch, in time with his beating heart. Tip red and swollen, aching for more, more…

Joel presses his forehead against yours and drops lower, taking control of the moment. With your hand still under his and holding his stiff length, Joel guides the tip of himself to your slit. He groans when the head meets your pussy, the warmth and the wetness. He lowers himself, the end of his cock prodding right at your entrance. “I think you’re ready for it,” he tells you, notching the tip inside. 

Your heart pounds, and you put a hand against Joel’s chest. “N-no, not yet, daddy.” 

“Toughen up, kid,” he urges, pushing in a little bit further, then pulling it out again. “Gotta rip that bandaid off sometime. Gonna let me do it?” Joel taunts you with the threat of fully penetrating you, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, fitting it inside your tight entrance before pulling it out again. “On three. One, two…”

You shake your head.

Joel sighs deeply. “You’re breakin’ your daddy’s heart, pumpkin. I hope you know that.”

But it doesn’t change your mind. Joel tsks, then goes right back to fucking the head of his cock on your vulva. He focuses less on getting himself off, but rather getting you off again. Rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your still-sensitive clit, tapping it momentarily before rubbing it in the opposite direction. 

You breathe heavily and shakily, “T-too much,” you say. 

“Y’wanted to come bad enough you broke the rules for it,” Joel replies in a calm voice. “You’re givin’ me another, jus’ like this, and you’re gonna say ‘thank you, daddy’ when it’s over.”

He pushes his pelvis forward and resumes teasing your clit, moving the head of his cock in circles around your clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation. A quick dip inside your cunt and then he’s doing it again, but rubbing left to right. Like the good girl you are, you rock your hips in time with his movements, moaning as the pleasure builds once more. Joel coaxes one last orgasm from you, leaving you a twitching, throbbing mess. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy,” you whisper. 

Joel kisses your forehead and allows you to relax on the pillows as he works himself, still using your hand. He breathes heavily, grunting and groaning as he quickens the way he pumps himself, thumb swiping over the head and the underside of his cock where he’s most sensitive. The pressure builds deep in his gut, just as it did yours, and his balls tighten. His brows knit together and he grits his teeth as he comes, growling as he paints his spend onto your sex. “Oh, Christ. Goddamn, fuck. Yeah,” he breathes, gathering his come onto the tip of his cock, then pushes it inside you before he softens. “You’re a good kid,” he tells you. “Good girl. Good girl, pumpkin.”

-

more dark daddy!joel here

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[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Honeybaby

The confession.

Set in New Years Eve 2023, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II. An immediate continuation of Catch My Breath.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Word Count : ~ 5600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

December 31st, 2022

London, United Kingdom

1500

'Ghost.'

Fuck, he thought. It's been 7 days since the Christmas party in Price's house. That was seven days without contact, without any interactions whatsoever. It had been seven days since they kissed, thanks to that damned mistletoe, and Seven days since Jade pecked him on his cheek. 

He should admit, he still remembered the soft pressure on his cheek when she did that, and the fact that he’d been sneaking a hand to that part of his face to rub at it? It always brought him back to that night of December 24th. 

Jade had left early. After the dinner with the team, she’d immediately helped Price around the house to tidy up, washed the dishes, and then left without telling Ghost anything. 

Was he mad? Should he be mad? 

Let's state the facts. They kissed under the mistletoe. It was her first kiss, and she consented to him doing it. And THEN, she asked him to do it again. It seemed like she liked it. He definitely liked it. As much as he hated the fact that it was because of a fucking mistletoe, he couldn't lie about how much he wanted to do that to her.

After that kiss, everything seemed okay. It was okay, they declared to stay friends - until she sneaked an unprecedented peck to his cheek.

He liked it. No, he loved it. Because it wasn't because of anything external. It was because of her own will, and that could not mean nothing. 

What he didn't like though, was the reality that she left him hanging for 7 days. Seven days of uncertainty, Seven days of thinking of that little peck. Seven days of Johnny looking at him teasingly because he definitely knew something about that mistletoe and how he and Gaz absolutely had something to do with the location of that vegetation. Fucking hell. 

And now, she'd texted him. The first text she'd sent to him after they got each others' numbers.

His heart raced again. She texted him his name and his heart was racing. God dammit, he truly felt like a bloody high schooler, for fuck's sake.

He typed, 'Jade.'

Not long, the woman texted him back, 

'First off, I'm sorry for suddenly kissing you on the cheek. I broke your boundaries and it wasn't okay.'

She's apologising. 

She's apologising for something he's happy about. 

'And I'm sorry for not contacting you for a week. I kissed your cheek and then left without saying anything. It was unfair of me.'

Oh shit. She's continuing. 

'I know how private you are with your identity, especially your face. Though I wish that you'd forgive me, it's fine if you don't.'

Fuuuuck.

'I just want to say that I'm sorry for doing that to you.'

'And I wish you could forget about it.'

This fucking woman…

—

There, she finally contacted him.

Ghost's a fast responder. She could tell that his phone's always active as he might get a call for deployment any time. He'd also immediately replied when she only texted his name. 

Or had he been waiting for her to text him?

Bollocks. Anyway, she messed up. Leaving him hanging for a whole damn week. A WEEK. 

She felt like an arsehole the whole time. Night and day she thought about it and what she should say to him. 

It took her a long time to realise, but the days that they'd spent together in Las Almas, the days they worked together, it was one of the best missions she'd ever went on. If she could erase the bloody parts, she'd wish she could experience it again.

Jade cared for him more than she liked to admit. Jade wanted him to be happy. She wanted to see him smile more; she wanted to be close to him. She wanted to know him more. She felt safe with him, she felt like the world’s a better place beside him. 

Jade sighed out loud, sitting on her worktable. The Garden was so damn busy this time of year, varying from people celebrating their years together, people declaring their love, or people remembering the love that they had. It was beautiful when she thought about it. People usually buy flowers to give it to someone. It’s a sign of love, showing that I care. Sometimes people give it to other people, sometimes for themselves as well. They give it to family members and friends; alive, or those who've left them earlier.

New Years had always been a mixture of emotions for her because of this line of work; because of how emotional it is. 

But this one in particular, she couldn’t focus at all because of him. She’d been thinking about that kiss, and how she wanted to tell him that she meant it. Oh how bad she wanted to tell him that she cared for him. 

But then, what did he feel towards her? Was he disgusted that she pecked him without his permission? How stupid, how inconsiderate of her to do that! Thinking about it made her want to scream into the skies at how brainless, imbecilic that act was.

And so, after days of thinking, what she wanted was for him to forget about it. 

Because let’s be real. Why would he like her back? He’s a man who conceals his identity precisely so the people around him would stay away from him and not get too close. He must actively avoid people in his life to keep him away from danger and keep them away from danger. Ghost wouldn’t let himself slip like that easily, wouldn’t he? 

Ghost? Liking someone? 

-- INCOMING CALL --

- Beanpole 💀💢 -

Oh bollocks. He called her. He’s calling her!! Why was he calling her???

‘Answer the call.’ He texted her again, the calling line still active. 

Oh no.

‘Now.’ 

With that, Jade tapped and slid the green icon upwards, putting the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Jade, what kind of fucking bullshit did you just text me.”

Oh shite. He’s livid.

“Ghost I– I didn’t mean that peck. It was just a–”

“Just what? An instinct? Your MI6 instinct?!”

“I was–”

“You're telling me that we just kissed, twice, you left a peck on my face, and you want me to act like it never happened?”

Jade couldn’t say anything to that.

“You’d better believe Price sleeps without his hat first to say that, because for fuck’s sake – what you just said has no logical thinking to it!” He rumbled with his deep voice, 

“You want me to forget about it?! Well I can’t!” 

Jade had never heard him with this tone before. Ghost’s voice had always been raspy and harsh, filled with a commanding quality necessary in battle. But this tone sounded like he was in absolute anguish. 

What he said was right. What she asked would be impossible. She’d been too selfish to think about what he’d want. 

Silence lingered on the line, save for Ghost's soft breath after he raised his voice. 

Who’s going to say anything at this point? Both of them were confused as to what they should say or what they should do.

“...You busy tonight?” Ghost finally started, making Jade flinch. His voice was back to calm.

“...We’re quite busy at New Years, but our shop closes at 10 PM.”

“Good. RV with me at this location after you’re done.” Right after he said that, Jade received a location ping.

“Ghost… This place is…”

“We need to talk, and not via phone call like this.” 

“...Okay.” 

“Good. See you there.” 

—

Whitehall Garden, London, UK

31.12.2022   2235

Sea of people had filled the edges of the Thames River. One and a half hours before the year changes, the people of London had gathered right across the infamous London Eye in order to witness the drones and fireworks show that the city prepared annually. Jade was a fan of fireworks shows. She adored the beautiful colours that filled the night sky, especially the New Year's, as it’s literally only done once a year.

And now, Ghost told her to meet him in front of the Ministry of Defence building. Standing in front of the General Charles Gordon Statue with tons of other people, she’d wondered of Ghost’s whereabouts. That man could only be seen if he wanted to be seen, there’s no doubt about that. 

Jade had texted him that she was at the RV point, 'I'm here.'  and he'd already read it. So it's probably not long until she meets him. 

"Jade." 

A deep, harsh voice that could only belong to Ghost called from right behind her. She turned around on reflex, and found the 6'3" man standing right behind her, just a few mere inches away from each other. 

Ghost's wearing a hoodie with his hood up and a pair of jeans with dark shoes. His face was not covered by the iconic skull-painted balaclava. Instead, he wore a black face mask in place of it. His black eye paint was not present around his eyes. She also noticed that he brought a backpack on his back.

Realising that he's far too close for her to think, Jade took a small step back. 

"Hey Ghost. So what's the plan?" She shrugged her shoulders, her breaths turning into clouds in the air. "Do you want us to talk here? In the sea of humans?"

"Absolutely not. Follow me and stay close." Ghost turned around and started walking towards the Ministry of Defense building's side entrance. Once they reached the door, Ghost opened the thick wooden door and allowed Jade to enter first before closing the door behind him. The inside of the building was a dark main hall, only a few lights were on.

"Beanpole, what are we doin' here? Are we even allowed to be here?" 

"Just follow me." The both of them then fast walked along the walls, until they reached the lift. The man pressed the up button and opened the lift door. 

Entering the lift, Jade saw that in order to press a floor, it required an authorised key card. "It needs a keycard. What, do you have it?"

Ghost pulled out a key card, swiped along the electronic key and pressed the button with the highest floor. The metal door closed shut, and the lift started to carry both people up. 

"Where did you get that card?" Jade asked out of curiosity, the whirr of the lift being their only company. 

"I've got contacts."

"...which was?"

"Guy who goes by the name Roach. He used to be my mate in SAS but now he works here."

"Oh." 

'Roach'? Peculiar name. Well, both of them had that 'unkillable' trait to their call signs so Jade could definitely see them being mates. 

Reaching the top floor, the metal door opened, revealing a dark hallway after which Ghost led her again to the emergency staircases, where an old, classic-looking staircase was leading up to another upper part of the building. They climbed the stairs again, where the room that could be interpreted as the building's attic was located.  

Ghost strolled to the furthest side of the attic, where they climbed another stair into a small balcony high up, closer to where the roof was. Ghost then pressed a chain of 5 numbers on the electronic key on the wall, which made the attic door above them open as they saw the night sky. 

As the ladder descended, Jade started. “When you sent me the location of the MOD main building, I thought we were gonna watch fireworks down there.”

He stayed silent, his hands still pulling down the ladder. 

“Well, you’ve told me you don’t fancy crowded places. I understand. But on the roofs of MOD? This is new.” Jade continued. 

Should he admit that he never really watched fireworks shows? Should he admit that he hated places with too much noise that sometimes his nerves could go into overdrive?

Ghost didn’t say anything until the ladder was down to the floor. “Hop up.” He said, before climbing up the high ladders, Jade followed him from behind. 

Once he’s up on the roof, Ghost popped his head to see her below, and unexpectedly, the masked man offered his hand down. 

“Take my hand.” 

Jade could admit that it still felt weird to see the skin on his bare hands, considering how often he used that skeleton painted gloves. That glove was so iconic Jade had seen it as his actual hand. Now that he was offering his hand, Jade immediately took his bigger palm, where he almost took her entire weight on his arm, making it easier to climb.

The last time he carried her was when she got shot during the prison break in Las Almas. She remembered how Ghost caught her fall and how he carried her to the van with the 141. Remembering that moment made her blush.

Once both of them stepped on the roofs, Jade looked to the other side of the Thames River, where the London Eye stood tall in bright, white lights that lit up the horizons. The Whitehall Garden below was covered with a sea of humans; families, friends, loved ones, together for the last moments of the year. 

And when she looked to her side, there stood Ghost, viewing the London Eye just the same. His dark eyes reflected the white lights just right. Jade would be lying if she didn’t find him looking good today. Black was made for him. Not that she’d ever seen him in any other colour before, but seeing him in civvies without the skull mask on sight – It always reminded her that beneath all the ‘Ghost’ facade, he was just another regular bloke underneath. Just a dude named Simon. 

The man looked down at his wrist, where his watch showed 22:58. “Good, we’re right on time. Sit down.”

Ghost sat down first, followed by Jade who sat down to his right. They were almost at the edge of the building and she must agree that this was the best spot to see the London Eye. 

For a while, they sat there, no words exchanged between them. The winter winds of London brought her – for once – undone hair into the air. Ghost sneaked a glance at her appearance; Long dark green coat, soft brown pants, knitted gloves, and an oversized plaid scarf that messily surrounded her neck and shoulders, plus her wavy hair free falling onto her shoulders and back. 

The woman sitting beside him was looking gorgeous in a way that he'd never seen before. She'd always been graceful in appearance, even in combat. It didn't even help him that he was basically asking her to spend New Year's Eve with him instead of with her family. Unlike him who had no family member left to spend his days with, Jade had her parents, she had her coworkers in her florist, and she volunteered for her old orphanage and for a local caring home. Unlike him, Jade was sociable and knew a lot of people. 

"Midget." He started, prompting the woman to look at him.

"Hm?"

"You don't celebrate New Year with your parents?" 

That question made her smile. "Yeah, I usually go to Piccadilly Circus with them. But when I told them I planned to spend New Year's with a ‘friend from work’, my parents dressed me up in… this, and pushed me out of the house."

Ghost scoffed, "Did you tell them who you're going to meet?"

"No, I didn't. Just 'a friend from work'." The smile on her face grew wider, "You can visit the shop sometime if you want. Probably have a tea or two–"

"No." Ghost cut her words almost immediately. That made Jade flinch. "It's better for them if they never met me."

That sentence caught her attention. 

"It will only endanger themselves." His words confirmed her thoughts. As she looked at him with her green eyes, Jade could sense the loneliness in him. 

Jade sighed, "Okay. I understand." Watching her breath turn into clouds in the air, she continued, "In this one particular mission… My work followed me home."

Now it's her turn to catch Ghost's attention. 

"This one guy wanted to take his revenge on me. I was on the other side of the world when it happened, and he told me that his men got my Pa and Ma on his hitmen's scopes." 

"I was fuming mad at him, but then… the hitmen were suddenly MIA. Lost communication." Ghost had decided that this was an interesting story.

"When he shouted to call for the hitmen… my Pa's voice sounded through the radio, saying, "Try again." I swear, my soul almost left my body at that time." The ginger lightly laughed at the memory. "I almost forgot that both of my parents were literal seasoned MI6 black agents."

'Ah, she's lucky.' Ghost thought to himself. Her family consisted of retired black agents, that must be relieving. Unfortunately, not all parents are kind, loving ex-MI6 agents who could take care of themselves. 

"Nevertheless, even though I know they were probably better agents than I was in their younger days, and they can definitely take care of themselves… I don't want them to go through that." She continued. 

"I love them. And I want them to be safe. Far from any danger that I might bring back from my work. So yes, I understand where you're coming from. But still," Jade tilted her head, “My offer still stands. You can come by anytime, any day.” 

Jade finished as her hands pulled out a metallic tumbler. She popped up the lid and started to drink from it. 

"What are you drinkin'?"

"Chamomile tea. And!" Jade's hands entered her bag again, and pulled out another black-coloured tumbler before handing it to him. "Here. For you."

Eyeing the bottle in suspicion, Ghost took the tumbler on his hands. "What is this?" He popped out the lid and lowered his mask to his upper lip, taking a sniff of the drink in question. It released steam that immediately disappeared into the winter wind. 

"It's something I think you'd like."

It didn't smell suspicious, so Ghost glanced at the woman, before finally lowering his mask to his chin, taking a sip from the tumbler. 

"...Black tea?" 

Jade smiled at that. "Yep! Your fave." Jade remembered exactly how he didn't like her chamomile tea back in Fuerzas Especiales base, so when she thought about going with tea, she decided to bring another one with black tea. "Is it good?"

"That's alright." He said before drinking again. Looking at him liking the tea, Jade celebrated inside her head. 

Putting down the black tumbler on the roof, it's time for Ghost to take his backpack. "Shame. I also brought something."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm the one who invited you, so I must bring somethin' right?" 

From inside his bag (which by the way, was FILLED with foam), he pulled out a green bottle with another light brown coloured one, along with two paper cups. 

"YOU BROUGHT GIN AND BOURBON IN YOUR BACKPACK?" Jade was absolutely astounded at this man's bag. What's even more surprising was what he pulled out next. "O–Oh my goodness me…" 

Ghost put down two double quarter pounders with cheeseburgers, along with fries in front of them. The utter shock was painted all over her face.

"I don't know what else you like."

Jade laughed out loud at this man's actions. He actually bought Micky D's before going to the RV point. And the fact that he said he didn’t know what else she’d like except Gin for alcohol and a double quarter pounder with cheese and fries, it’s probably the funniest thing she had ever seen him do.  

She couldn’t hold back her loud laugh that she tipped her body back, almost falling. Saying that Ghost didn’t like the sound of that would be an utter complete lie. 

“Oh my GOSH, Simon!” She clapped her hand together, still wheezing from laughter. "You are a top lad!"

Ghost grinned as he observed Jade's laugh. The only thing he did was listen to what she said was her favourite junk food meal back in Las Almas, and now he bought it for her. Nothing big at all, yet her smile was the widest he's seen her.

“Let me.” He poured each liquor to their respective paper cups a good amount. Giving the Gin one to her hand. 

For moments they filled their guts with the snacks Ghost brought. He took a glance at the woman beside him every once in a while, looking at how she ate the burger and fries, and how she cutely scrunched her face when the gin caught the back of her throat. He too was eating away at his own burger. To be honest, this was his first time eating junk food in a while. It's been years since he enjoyed a delicious, trashy fast food because of his constant deployments and, basic health, of course. But being with her, he felt like just letting go. He didn't feel like eating something hard-earned. Just an easy quick fucking burger with fries.

Licking her fingers from the fries flakes, Jade started. “Look at us. Eating a double quarter pounder with fries, with booze on the side, on the roof of the Ministry of Defence, waiting for the New Year countdown in front of London Eye. What. A. Scene.” 

Suddenly, Jade noticed that Ghost shivered a bit. He took another gulp of the bourbon before finishing his burger.

"Are you cold?" 

"...No." 

"You're shivering."

"I'm not."

"...Your cheeks are red."

"They are not."

"You always cover them with your mask but they're clearly blushing from the cold."

“You’re seeing things.”

“...Alright, then. That is it.” Out of nowhere, Jade scooted closer to him, pulled half of her scarf before tugging them around Ghost's neck, creating a connection between the both of them.

"Wh-What are you doin’?”

Still tidying the scarf, she answered, “How can I eat peacefully if you’re shivering beside me like this?” Patting the scarf softly in finality, Jade muttered, "There. If it's cold, the solution is to wear more layers. Not drink alcohol. Take this as a payback for lending me your jacket a week ago."

Ah, yes. The jacket she threw to his face after she pecked him on the cheek. He's not going to lie, he should’ve worn that jacket today. The cold was no joke at all. They both rubbed their hands together, and covered their mouths and nose with it, blowing more warm air towards their palms to keep the heat.

Just as they observed the London Eye, Ghost’s watch showed 23.56, signaling the start of the light shows that began commencing right in front of them. 

Jade stared at the holograms and dancing drones in the sky, captivated by the attraction, until Ghost called her name.

“Jade.”

“Hm?” She replied, her eyes kept looking at the light show.

“Listen… If you think it's okay, I'm about to say somethin', alright?” said Ghost, as the cold wind kept blowing gently. 

What was he about to say? How should she react? Those were the thoughts that crossed her mind. Her racing heart was beating so loud caused by all the questions inside her head. Looking at the direction of the conversation, he might tell her something really, really important. 

“ …Alright.” fingers crossed inside her head, Jade shifted her head to look at his eyes, and it was, for the first time, filled with such vulnerability and tenderness. The absence of the black paint left his brown eyes bare – nothing to hide, no front to put up.  

“After I say this, I think things will never be the same, though I hope otherwise.” Putting his fists on his knees, Ghost began.

“Ever since I delved into this occupation, I fully commit my life to the job; there's no room for compromise, and if my life ended, then at least I died fighting for my cause.”

His tone grew slightly sombre, probably from remembering the times he enlisted into the army, all the hardships, all the pain and suffering he endured inside and outside the army, it all had made him who he was right here and then.

“But recently, I felt something that I haven't felt in a long, long time, and I thought I must be out of my mind to allow myself to feel this way. “ Ghost continued, his eyes grew softer. It's almost like she saw a glint of light and hope in his eyes.

“I admit that I've been an arse to you; I hadn't been nice, and I don't think I deserve to feel this way for you."

"At first, I didn't know what I was feeling. You were too good at what you do, and you gained my trust all too quickly. But the more I know you, the more I spend my time with you, it became clearer – I admire you, I respect you, I revere you. Until it grows to something more than that.”

Ten! Nine! Eight!

“I thought if I let it be, my feelings would dissipate and go away, but it only became stronger. I can't get you out of my head."

Seven! Six! Five! 

“I'm not good with words, so I will say this once.”

Four! Three!

"You brought up a part of me that I didn't know I had. And I like myself more every time I'm with you."

Two!

"Lottie,"

One!

Hundreds and hundreds of little lights shot up into the sky, flying high into the infinite black above. Along with the loud cheers of the people below, the lights exploded and dispersed into beautiful colours of red and blue, filling the night sky with a kaleidoscope-like view. The great bell of Big Ben chimed over and over, bearing witness to the change of the year, the London Eye flashed into colours of blue and red and white.

Ghost never liked New Year's.

He never liked the noises and the sounds of explosions as his nerves and senses went into overdrive at the place where they weren't supposed to. In the battlefield, this bodily reaction would come in handy – it kept him alive. But right at that moment, when Ghost declared his honest feelings to Jade, this might be the worst – and at the same time – the best place to do it.

Jade loved New Year's.

For most of her life, those days were the reason she kept going, to at least survive, and live for another year – just to witness the fireworks. She never once missed a fireworks show, even if she was somewhere else around the world for an assignment, Jade would find a big city and witness the colours of New Year's. Even if she was somewhere where people didn’t celebrate, she’d quickly turn on the TV, however bad the quality was. 

Even if she had to camp in the middle of nowhere, she would bring a sparkler rod beforehand, lighting them up as a little firework right in front of her face. 

She had to witness them.

Yet as of this moment, she couldn’t be bothered to even look at the fireworks, as her green eyes were fixed only on the man beside her. 

If she were to be honest, Jade couldn’t quite hear what he said. The noises were very loud, almost deafening, coming from everywhere around them. The sounds of explosions, chimes of the big ben, loud cheers of the people below, and the music from the London Eye. 

But it didn’t take a heavily trained MI6 agent to read lips, especially when he’s speaking right in front of her. 

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” 

Her eyes widened at those words. No one had ever said that to her before in her life, not one that made her heart race, but also one that made a thousand butterflies fly inside of her. 

“But I don’t know if I’m ready.” 

And just like that, Ghost left her speechless. The butterflies flying inside her stomach had flown to God knows where. Lights from the fireworks had not stopped exploding, and the noise didn’t dissipate. It only grew louder and louder – a contrast to what was happening inside Jade’s mind right at that moment.

Ghost saw her entire expression. It was a mix of delight yet of confusion. A face of joy and love, yet of bewilderment. It’s like she’s still processing his words, and understandably so. He felt like an utter and complete arse at that moment. He just confessed his feelings to her, only to say that he cannot dedicate himself to it. 

For a moment, he kept looking at her face. The fireworks light reflecting on her skin, the cold winter wind combing through her wavy hair.

She’s so goddamn beautiful. Fucking hell. How can he not love her? It’s impossible for him not to fall for her. 

It took a really long time for her to finally change her expression. He thought he saw her breath hitched before closing her lips together tightly. It seemed that she’d finally regained her composure, so he continued.

Ghost balled his fist even tighter on his knees, “This job is essentially my whole life, and it’s full of uncertainty. You said you felt safe with me, Lottie, but it’s not true.” He swallowed, “Being with me is anything but safe.”

Jade only stared at him. 

“You deserve the whole world, Jade, and I’m afraid I cannot give it to you. I care for you more than I thought I did.” He admitted. “I want to make you happy, but I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Ghost kept on observing her reactions, but she gave none. The woman’s expression looked… empty. Was it her instinct to not give out any expressions during vulnerable times? It might be so, considering her background. Still, what did he expect? For her to be mad? Cry? Disappointed?

Instead, what Ghost saw before him a few seconds later was an expression of… relief? He didn’t know what to interpret them as, but Jade smiled. It was full of sincerity and at the same time, sadness. He was a little bit taken aback at that. Part of him thought that their relationship that they’d built through hard-earned trust would go down the drain from his words alone. However, it was not what happened, as she called his name.

“Simon.” 

He blinked, waiting for her next words.

“Can I hug you? Please?” 

Jade's plea sounded like a person's last wish. 

It saddened him so. He wanted her to be happy. God, he wanted to. But in the current state he is in right now, it's almost impossible. 

So he nodded softly, and she embraced him in a soft, warm hug. Jade's chin rested on his shoulder, his chin on hers. Their bodies pressed together, arms circling their figures so tight, yet so gently. His long arms could almost envelop her entire figure in a bear hug. 

Ghost closed his eyes, smelling the scent of her hair that touched his face from the blowing wind, pressing his palms on her back to feel her as close as possible.  

As the fireworks kept coming up, they hugged like a lifeline. Not wanting to let go, at least he didn't.

"You've told me what you wanted to say. Now I'll say what I want to say, alright?" Still pressing her cheek to her neck, she voiced softly.

"...alright," he replied. 

Jade grasped his jacket, took a deep breath, and started, "I've never met someone who's so similar to me. I've always lived alone, thrived alone, and survived alone, until I met you."

Ghost stayed still. 

"I said it before, I feel safe with you. I can be myself. I don't have to hide anything. And I care for you." 

"You said you want to make me happy, so I'll say this: I want to see you happy, more than anything. Nothing makes me happier than looking at your smile."

In the middle of the loud noise, she confessed.

"I love you too, Simon.” 

Hearing that sentence felt like a boulder had just been lifted up from his shoulder; his chest that felt tight for God knows how long released its tension. He tightened his hold on her ever so gently. God, she's so warm. 

For a while they hugged, not saying anything, until Jade rubbed his back up and down. Realizing that they need to part, Ghost let out a breath that dissipated into the air.

They stared at each other's eyes. Everything was different now. The person in front of them knew that they loved one another; recognizing that the person in front of them meant the whole world to each other. A moment of epiphany reflected in their eyes.

Ghost started. "Let's not change, yeah?"

Jade's mind interpreted that into two meaning, but she chose to believe the more hopeful and the certainly better one. From the way he looked at her, Jade was sure that she's right.

She nodded, "Yeah. Of course. But..."

That last word made Ghost flinch. Who said only he could say a 'but'?

"I'm not someone who will sit and wait, Simon."

Ghost widened his eyes.

"I love you, and I'm here for you. You're the only one for me." She continued. "But I'm not going to ask you 'what are we?' after too long."

Her eyes reflected a kind of conviction she'd always displayed in the battlefield. Jade might be a warm, kind-hearted, most uncomplaining woman he'd ever met, but she's not a fool either.

"I'm ready. I want us to be ready. So I will wait for you." Jade declared with finality. A smile formed in her lips.

Her words might be the ones entering his ears, but Ghost's mind registered one phrase.

'Don't play with my heart.'

Like he would. That's the last thing he wanted. Jade's heart was the last thing he wanted to play with and make wait. He must admit, he hadn't seen all sides of Jade yet. And Jade hadn't seen all sides of him. But he's willing to reveal them -- in time.

Ghost smiled back. "Yes Ma'am."

---

Journey back to The Garden was… normal. It wasn't awkward nor anything uncomfortable given that they just literally confessed their affection for each other, rather a pleasant walk and bus ride, thanks to Jade's conversational skills that were superior compared to his. She'd asked multiple questions about himself, and not the deep ones, but the very mundane, unimportant facts. 

"What's your favorite season?"

"Summer.”

"Do you watch Football?"

"Only on some occasions.'

"I find that hard to believe. Who do you support?"

"City."

"Oh. Is blue your favorite color?"

"Black is, but I just found out some time ago that black is a shade, not a color. So blue it is."

"I'd really love to see you in blue outfits." 

He made a mental note on that. 

It didn't feel like 1 hour of commute for them to find themselves in front of The Garden. It's 2 AM, but some lights were still shining since it's the first day of the year, casting a light on their faces.

Jade looked at Ghost, glancing at the pavements to avoid her gaze.

"Beanpole."

He looked at her.

Her gentle voice felt like a warm glow of the sun in the middle of winter, "Happy new year."

Ghost couldn't hold the grin on his face. Yep. It is a new year indeed. New beginnings, new journeys, new endings. "Another fuckin' trip around the sun."

They giggled together, the sound so pleasing to their ears. They couldn't wait to hear more of it.

"I should call it a night. We're opening the shop early this morning."

"Oh. Yeah, you should rest." He sounded disappointed.

Jade lifted her hand, held it into a fist, and lightly pushed it on Ghost's chest. "See you, Simon."

"See you, Lottie." Ghost raised his right hand to tap Jade's shoulder once.

What she didn't expect though, his hand ran slowly along her clothed arms, from her shoulder, her arm, down to her forearms, ending on her hand. His palm ran noticeably slower once he reached the back of her hand.

He subtly traced her knuckles and to the most end of her fingers, making the most out of that touch, before his legs shifted to walk away.

"Text me, yeah?" Ghost said with finality, their distance increasing.

"You text me." Jade said with a loud volume. She could tell he's laughing as he started to disappear from view.

Jade smiled, rubbing her hands together to keep the heat on her hand. Remembering all the things that happened tonight. Gosh, that was something else.

She started to giggle, squealing in a high pitch when she remembered the words he said. Her feet tapped side by side on the snowy pavement. Ghost? Saying those words?? Oh, she might fly away. He said he's bad with words, but that was not bad at all (not that she had any comparison. Still, he could be sweet when he wanted to.

"Lottie? Back already?" A man's voice muttered to her.

Jade looked to the side, recognising her father and mother, walking hand-in-hand, looking as romantic as ever. They clearly looked so happy together, spending another new year's eve with each other's company.

"Yeah. I just got back too." Jade nodded.

"Great! I cooked some chicken casserole after you left. Let's feast on that and maybe get some wine yeah?" Her mother chimed, while her father kissed her on the forehead.

Jade reflected on the life she'd lead, and the lives that both of her parents had lived as retired black agents who'd ben through hell and back. The gratefulness that they felt each year, to spend it with the most important person in their lives.

What a dream that was.

What a dream to live.

Fin.

---

Happy New Years 2025 everyone!! 🤩 May this year be cheerful and bright, bringing up hope and joy to us all.

Thank you for reading!

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part iii (final)

warnings: angst; smut; word count: 6.3k (sorry)

what the fuck. 

as soon as the words left his mouth, you wondered how many hits to the head soccer players got each match, because there was no way in hell rafe cameron was in love with you.

suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, you stood up, almost falling off his bed in the process.

in a frantic scramble, you reached for your clothes, tugging on your jersey inside out and hopping around on one foot trying to pull up your shorts.

"what's wrong with you?! we just had sex!"

rafe blinked, still dazed from your anything but innocent activities.

“uh, yeah, that's kind of when these feelings hit me.”

you paused, one leg in your levis shorts, the other still “bare”, and shot him a look. 

 "you don't just drop the l-word after sex! are you insane!" you managed to get your shorts up and fastened, albeit a bit crookedly, “jesus christ.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out, it just came—"

“yeah, well, maybe lead with something less dramatic” you snorted, tugging your shirt the right way around. "i mean, who does that?"

he laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment you were torn between being annoyed and charmed, “i’m sorry. i meant it tho.”

“no, you didn’t.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you fumbled with your shoelaces.

“i did,” he insisted, his voice earnest, but you were too busy wrestling with your stubborn converse to look up.

“you don't even know me."

"course i do," he looked offended, like you insulted him, "your birthday is on october 8th, and your favorite color is blue. your favorite food is picanha and kimchi ramyeon. you do this thing when you're happy where you just speak really loud, all the time and when your favorite song comes on, which is all of them really, you always squeal—"

you think you lost at least three brain cells as you stood there, jaw dropped to the floor, listening to him list all the things he knew about you.

correctly.

"y’know what sherlock?” you said suddenly, standing up, finally fully dressed but still feeling exposed. “i need some air. a lot of it.”

“what?”

“i’m leaving.”

“wait—" you hear the sound of sheets ruffling, “wait a sec—dammit!”

you didn't look back as you hurried out of his room, the sounds of the frat party thumping from downstairs, music seeping through the walls. the hallway was packed with people, and you pushed your way through the crowd, your mind racing. oh my god. everyone was seeing you leave rafe cameron’s room in a hurry. there was no way in hell you’d have a peaceful week after this.

you were almost reaching the door when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. you turned around to see rafe, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, “can we talk about this?”

the music was deafening, forcing you to practically scream to be heard. “what part of 'too much' don’t you get?”

“why?” he asked, his voice barely cutting through the noise. “why does it have to be too much?”

“because it is!” you shouted, then softened your tone just enough to be less harsh, “just let it go.”

he let go of your arm, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “’m not asking you to say it back, okay?”

you felt the weight of curious eyes on you. the partygoers’ stares only made you want to leave even more. desperation clawed at your chest.

rafe closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “did that really feel like only sex to you?”

you bit your lip, the regret hitting you immediately, but you couldn't stop now. you needed to get out.

“yeah.” you replied, even though your heart screamed at you to take it back.

he stepped back, letting go of your arm completely. “fine. go on then," he said, his tone flat and lifeless. “just go.”

“i’m sorry—" you started again, but rafe's expression hardened. he’d never looked at you like that and you hated every single second of it.

he stepped back further, creating a physical distance, as if to save himself the hurt, “leave.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, you wanted to be anywhere but there. you couldn't delete the image of his face when you rejected him from your brain. 

as soon as you were outisde, you pulled out your phone, and dialed pope's number. he picked up on the third ring, his voice laced with excitement.

"the dick was that bad? i could've sworn—”

tears were already threatening to fall as you tried to steady your voice. "pope, can you... can you pick me up?"

“huh?”

"i just... i need to get out of here," you managed, voice cracking as you wrapped an arm around yourself, feeling strangely exposed.

"shit. okay. i'll be there in ten minutes.”

you found a quiet spot near the edge of the campus, too embarrassed to sit outside rafe’s frathouse with so many people coming and going. leaning against a tree, you sank down, hugging your knees to your chest.

what the hell were you doing? had you just permanently ruined your friendship with rafe? let your little mommy issues get ahead of you?

when pope finally pulled up in his car, you climbed in wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes. 

“what did he do? you want me to punch him? cause y’know i’ll call jj and we—"

you leaned your head against the cool glass of the car window, “this was such a fucking bad idea.”

he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road, “what? why?”

“because.”

pope's brow furrowed in confusion. "what did he say?"

"that he loved me.”

“what the fuck?!" your body jolted forward, your heart racing from the sudden stop. the motherfucker accidentally slammed the brakes.

“pope, what the hell?”

“my bad, fuck,” he muttered, regaining control of the car and easing back onto the road, “he dropped that shit on you?”

“yeah.”

“okay, that’s kinda fucked, but—“ pope glanced at you again, concern etched on his face. “look, cameron might be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. man, he’s the complete opposite if you ask me. too fucking honest for his own good.”

“he picked the worst time to be honest,” you muttered, wiping away a tear, “i literally had his dick in my hands!”

“dude!” pope faux-gagged, “i don’t need the details, jesus.”

“sorry,” you said, half-laughing through your tears. “it’s just... how can he love me? he doesn’t even know me! that’s what’s pissing me off the most.”

that was a lie.

pope sighed, shaking his head. “i don’t know, but it sounds like he’s really into you. you spent a lot of time together, right? maybe he knows you better than you think.”

he does.

“don’t get smart on me pope howard. i need your support right now, not this sentimentalist bullshit.”

pope chuckled, “you’ve got to talk to him. y’know that, right?”

you groaned, lifting the palms of your hands to your eyes, “why?”

“because you care about him, you dumbass. that’s fucking obvious.”

“stop making sense,” you mumbled, sighing heavily. “i need you to be angry with me, pope.”

he shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "i'm your best friend. my job is to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”

you slumped further into your seat, “this is your fault anyway. you planted the stupid idea in my brain.”

“me? this is all you.”

your mouth dropped, “be fucking serious. you told me to sleep with him! for sports!”

“yeah, okay, i’ll take the blame but…”

“but?” you narrowed your eyes in warning, “but what?”

he shrugged innocently, “you never listened to me up to that point. i didn’t think you’d do it. that’s gotta mean something.”

“stop making me think,” you muttered under your breath, letting your head fall back against the seat. “i just want to forget this whole night happened.”

“maybe you just need some time to figure out how you feel.”

“i don’t feel anything,” you lied, staring out the window at the passing lights. “he’s just rafe cameron.”

pope sighed again, the kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “whatever you say."”

he dropped you off at your dorm, waiting until you were inside before driving away. you made your way to your room, collapsing onto your bed. why did you feel like such a terrible person?

you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, stopping at rafe’s name. your thumb hovered over the call button before you shook your head, tossing the phone aside.

you needed time. time to think, time to breathe, and time to figure out what the hell you wanted.

the next morning, you woke up with a headache and a sense of unease that settled deep in your chest. you dragged yourself out of bed. pope had texted you, a simple “hope you’re okay <3” that made you smile despite everything. you quickly replied, assuring him you were fine, even if you didn’t fully believe it.

you weren’t.

not when your first class of the day was with rafe. but you could do it.

you walked into class just in time, like you always did, only this time you were dreading the inevitable awkwardness of being sat next to rafe.

you hadn’t thought this through. he usually got here before you, real heavy on being on time for everything he did. you tried to keep your eyes locked on the professor, who was gathering the material for class, but you still took small peeks towards the door, expecting to see him stroll in at any given moment.

except he never did. as the lecture progressed, he never showed up. 

when the professor eventually asked about his whereabouts, kelce, his friend who sat a few rows behind you, raised his hand casually.

“rafe’s not feeling well today,” kelce spoke up, his tone nonchalant. he glanced over at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes that made your stomach twist. 

oh great, so now you were the witch of the wicked west to all his friends. 

the professor nodded sympathetically. “alright, thank you for letting me know, kelce. make sure he gets the notes from today’s lecture.”

kelce nodded in acknowledgment, and the class moved on, but your mind was racing. rafe skipping class wasn’t like him. the timing felt deliberate, almost as if he was avoiding you after last night. 

as the lecture continued, you realized rafe wouldn’t be the only one needing notes. all you’d done for two hours was scramble down a few words, none of them making any sense. you struggled to focus on the material. every glance towards the door was met with disappointment.

maybe this was serious. maybe he hated you now.

after what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. packing up your things, you hesitated before deciding to approach kelce, who lingered near his seat. you’d only spoken to him a handful of times, mainly when you and rafe studied back at the frat house.

kelce was nice. but the look he was giving you now, was anything but.

"hey, kelce," you began, trying to sound casual.

"hey," kelce replied cautiously, eyeing you up and down. 

you swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"um, is rafe okay? is he sick?”

he nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, “the flu. got it last night."

"l-last night?” 

“yup.”

“oh.”

kelce's brows furrowed slightly, “look, i don’t know what happened. but, he’s…not doing okay.”

your stomach sank. it was clear rafe was avoiding you, and the guilt gnawed at you even more. "i just... i didn't mean to..."

kelce cut you off gently, his voice softening. "that’s none of my business.”

"yeah," you murmured, feeling utterly inadequate.

"he'll come around," kelce reassured you, though his tone lacked conviction.

you nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to say. part of you wanted to apologize again, but...you’d done nothing wrong. there was no need to explain yourself.

"thanks," you managed weakly, offering a half-hearted smile.

kelce nodded in response, his expression remaining neutral. with that, you turned and hurried out of the classroom, feeling the weight of kelce's gaze on your back. the hallways felt suffocating, with whispered conversations and curious glances that only amplified your discomfort. did everyone know? was there a journal column telling everyone who got laid last night? fucking hell.

back in your dorm room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. this was worse than what you’d expected. you couldn't stop seeing the image of rafe's hurt expression, his quiet insistence that he meant what he said.

your phone buzzed beside you, and you hesitated before picking it up, sighing in realief when you saw it was a text from pope.

"baaaabeeee, how did it go?"

did he really want to know the mess you'd made of things?

after a moment's hesitation, you replied with a simple, "not great. think everyone hates me lol"

pope's response was almost immediate. “shit. you wanna to talk about it?"

you bit your lip, undecided between wanting to unload everything and wanting to bury it all deep down. in the end, you settled for a brief reply. “later."

that went on for a week and three days.

you avoided rafe’s usual hangouts, keeping your head down and focusing on your classes. you still hadn’t seen him, and it was starting to drive you crazy. you needed to talk to him, but you were scared. like, shitless scared, of what he’d say, scared of what you’d feel.

it was hours later when you finally saw him again. you were in the library, buried in your notes, the ones who’d stolen from pope because you hadn’t been able to focus properly in any class and you hated that you’d let a boy have so much control over your brain, let alone a jock.

when you looked up and saw him standing at the entrance. he looked a little too good. the typical shorts hitting just above his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles way too much for your sanity, and his hair peeking out from under a snapback. 

good enough to eat.

he spotted you almost immediately and then quickly turned his head to side, ignoring you. 

ouch. okay, fair enough all things considered.

your heart skipped a beat. it was now or never. for a moment, you considered hiding, but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way over to him.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to sound as casual as possible.

rafe looked up for a second, then returned his attention to the phone in his hands, “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked.

he shrugged, and it took everything in you not to punch him in the face. “sure.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “sorry about the other night. i-i didn’t handle it well.”

he nodded, but his gaze remained on his phone, fingers typing away. “yeah, i get it.”

you frowned, sensing that something was off. he’d never ignored you before, he wasn’t even giving you the dignity of looking at you as you spoke to him. 

“are you okay?”

“fine,” he replied curtly.

before you could ask him what the fuck is problem was now, a girl approached, her smile bright, almost blinding you. she was ridiculously pretty, with long braided hair and sparkling brown eyes.

a literal doll.

she looked between you and rafe, “hi, are you ready to go?”

your heart sank as the girl slipped her arm around rafe’s arm and he finally put his stupid phone away and smiled down at her.

heavy on the ouch.

“yeah, let’s go,” rafe said, his voice softening, but then he turned to you, his expression blank again, “see you around.”

you stood there, watching them walk away feeling like a complete fucking idiot. like you were being pranked. what the hell was that? was he trying to make you jealous? or was he moving on that quickly? was there even something to move on from?

you returned to your seat, barely registering the world around you.

is that what he meant by telling you he loved you? you’ve been feeling bad over a boy who clearly only said what he said because you fucked him too good? wow.

you tried to focus on your notes, but your hands were trembling. without realizing it, you started tearing at the pages, ripping them apart. by the time you looked down, half of your notes were in shreds, scattered across the table.

“dammit,” you hissed under your breath. you gathered the torn pieces, stuffing them into your bag. there was no salvaging them now. 

with a frustrated sigh, you pulled out your phone and dialed pope’s number. 

“what’s up?”

“i need to get fucked up tonight.” you said bluntly, not bothering to hide the frustration you were feeling. 

“buy a guy a drink first?”

you could hear him snicker at his own joke, “shut up. are there any parties?”

“yeah, heard there's a big one at the delta house. everyone’s going.”

“okay. we’re going too.”

pope sighed, “i don’t remember signing up for this.”

“shut up and pick me up at 9.”

you decided that tonight was the night to go all out. no more hiding, no more feeling sorry for yourself. you rummaged through your closet, tossing aside clothes that were too plain, too boring, or just not the vibe you were going for. 

finally, you found it—the perfect outfit, and possibly the sluttiest thing you proudly owned.

you slipped into a sleek, black leather mini skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, hitting just the right spot on your thighs. you paired it with a cropped, red satin top that showed just enough skin to be daring but not over the top. the top had a deep v-neckline, accentuating your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate gold necklace you wore. the outfit was completed with a pair of knee-high black boots, giving you an edge and adding a few extra inches to your height. you never wore them out, too worried that your feet would be killing you after a couple of minutes, but tonight, if you got drunk enough, you wouldn’t feel shit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the top and smoothing down the skirt. 

your makeup was bold, different from what you usually did—a smoky eye that made your eyes pop and a deep red lipstick that matched your top perfectly. you left your hair loose, allowing it to fall in soft waves. satisfied with your look, you grabbed a small clutch and headed out.

when pope arrived to pick you up, his jaw practically hit the floor. he stared at you, eyes wide, as you strutted towards the car.

“i'm sorry—are we going to a strip club or to a party?” he blurted out.

"are you slutshaming me?"

"no, but be real for a second."

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk played on your lips. “don’t be dramatic. just wanted to look good.”

“look good?” pope repeated, still in disbelief, “sweets, you always look good, okay? but this? you look like you’re about to rip someone’s heart out.”

“good,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat. “that’s the goal.”

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath about needing to keep an eye on you all night.

“you’re gonna tell me what happened?”

“nothing happened.”

“right.”

the delta house was already packed when you arrived, the music thumping so loud you could feel it in your chest. you walked in with pope by your side, determined to leave all your worries at the door.

“alright, let’s get some drinks,” pope clapped his hands, rubbing them together before leading you to the makeshift bar. you could feel eyes on you as you walked through the crowd, whispers and stares following your every step. you ignored them. 

so what if people knew you fucked rafe? that was your business, not theirs.

you grabbed a tequilla shot, downing it quickly and feeling the alcohol warm you up from the inside. pope handed you another, and you sipped it more slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

“easy. ‘m not holding your hair back if you throw up,” he warned, nudging you gently. “just relax and have fun. cleo’s joining later.”

“awwww, look at you being soft."

“shut up. don’t embarrass me in front of her."

you placed your hand over your heart, “i would never!”

the night wore on, the party growing louder. you danced, laughed, and mingled, trying to keep your mind off rafe and the mess you'd made of things. pope stuck by your side, and cleo, the girl of his dreams, joined you eventually, her energy infectious. 

you were happy he’d found someone. 

you were at the bar, grabbing another drink, when you saw rafe walk in.

your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you forced yourself to stay calm. he was with the same girl from the library and seeing them together made your stomach churn. he hadn't even noticed you yet, too busy talking to her.

"pope," you called, nudging him. "look who's here."

pope glanced over and sighed. "ignore him, please. we're here to have fun, remember?"

you nodded, drowning another shot, "right. fun."

it was easier said than done. every time you glanced their way, you wanted to storm up to him and punch him in that stupid perfect face. why did it bother you so much? he was just a guy. just rafe cameron. you downed another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the emotions swirling inside you.

“goddamn mama, are you drinking yourself to death?”

jj’s presence barely phased you, “yes.”

“what’s got you so worked up?”

you groaned, not really in the mood for his antics. “nothing. just havin’ a good time.”

“yeah, right,” jj snorted, stealing your drink and taking a sip. “try again. this shit is 95% vodka by the way.”

you snatched it from his hands, “don’t drink my shit. don’t wanna talk about it.”

“alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “dance with me then?”

“no.”

“pleaseee,” he begged, jutting out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, “c’mon.

despite your best efforts to stay frustrated, his infectious energy made you crack a smile. "fine, but just one song maybank."

jj whooped, “atta girl.”

he grabbed your hand with a mischievous grin and pulled you onto the crowded dance floor. you laughed as he twirled you around, his movements were surprisingly graceful. one time he made you faceplant the floor, so this was an improvement. 

his energy has always been infectious, jj was a literal golden retriever in human from and soon enough you found yourself letting go of all the worries that had been weighing you down. you moved in sync with him, your hips swaying, and your arms following the flow of the music. jj’s playful antics kept you entertained—he'd throw in a spin or a sudden dip, making you laugh even harder.

but then, he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the music.

“guess who's watching?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"who?"

jj nodded towards the edge of the dance floor, where rafe stood with a group of his friends. “my number one fan. been eyeing us since we started."

“uh,” you glanced in his direction, catching rafe’s gaze briefly before he looked away, “that’s weird.”

“i know you two fucked.”

your hand instantly reached out to shove jj’s shoulder, “shut up.”

“i'm serious. you’re gonna let him watch or show him what he's missing?"

on one hand, you were furious at rafe for bringing another girl to the party so soon after whatever had happened between you two. after telling you he was in love with you. sure you were a bitch after, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. on the other hand, jj’s always made you go off the rails, in a way that stoked your pride. 

“fine,” you said with a defiant grin, “let’s give him a show.”

jj’s smirk widened, and without missing a beat, he spun you around and pulled you in closer, moving with even more enthusiasm than before. the music pounded around you, you couldn’t even tell the lyrics apart. every twirl, every dip, every sway of your hips was a message to rafe—whether he was watching or not—that you were done feeling sorry for yourself. as the song reached its peak, jj dipped you low, and you laughed breathlessly. you glanced towards where rafe had been standing, but he was gone.

then, without warning, from the corner of your eye, you saw a commotion erupting nearby. before you could react, the crowd around you began to murmur and part, revealing rafe. what the hell? what was this? a coming-of-age movie?

his usually friendly composed demeanor was gone, the glare in him was enough to scare anyone in his way. he stormed towards you, his eyes locked on jj. and then it clicked.

“oh for fuck's sake,” you groaned under your breath, knowing that nothing good would come out of it.

"hey, what the—" jj started, but before he could finish, rafe swung a punch at him.

yep, there it was. 

the blow caught jj off guard, knocking him back a step. the music seemed to stop, or at least fade into the background as chaos erupted around you. people gasped and shouted, some pulling rafe away while others checked on jj.

you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance as you watched jj touch his jaw gingerly. 

“what the fuck, cameron?” jj groaned, “watch the pretty face.”

rafe’s chest was heaving as he glared at the other blonde, fists typically clenched by his side, looking as if he was ready to pounce on him again. before he could take another step, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking jj’s figure sitting on the ground.

“upstairs. right now,” rafe opened his mouth to spit something, but you cut him off, “now.”

he moved silently, following you up a flight of stairs to a quieter area. you could hear his breathing from miles away, he was still worked up. you found an empty room and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, turning to face him.

rafe ran a hand through his face, frustration evident in his every movement. “i don’t know, okay? i just—i saw you with him, and i lost it.”

“oh, so you’re a caveman now?”

"god, you can be so fucking infuriating," rafe exploded, throwing his jacket into a corner of the room, "i saw you. touching him like... like none of this matters!"

"none of what matters?" you shot back, incredulous. "you show up with another girl after telling me you love me, and now i‘m not supposed to move on? what do you expect?"

"me?!" he jabbed a finger into his chest, his face flushed with anger. "that was my damn tutor! i wasn't trying to—shit. you think i'm trying to move on? i told you i loved you. that shit doesn’t just disappear because you don't feel the same way."

now you just felt stupid.

"your tutor?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the new information.

“we weren’t exactly on speaking terms and i needed help with calculus,” he muttered, “didn’t think you’d want to speak to me. and i was still sad.”

rafe shifted uncomfortably in his place, his expression now softer. you felt the sudden urge to hug him, but you didn’t. 

“you said you were supposed to move on,” he says carefully eyeing you.

“i did?” you lied, suddenly feeling like the room was closing in on you, “i don’t think so.”

“you did,” he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "i meant what i said that night. did you?” 

you looked away for a moment, “rafe—“

“i don’t care if you don’t love me, you don’t have to, not right now. i just need to know if you think you can, one day.”

this wasn’t the rafe who punched jj, or the rafe who stormed through the crowd in a fit of jealousy. this was the rafe you were used to. 

your ears were ringing as he closed the distance between you. his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. the anger had melted away, replaced by a raw, aching need. fuck, he was good.

“listen—” you started again, but this time your voice was softer, trembling. he was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath mingling with yours, “can you back up? jesus. can’t think properly with you close.”

“don’t want to back up,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. he didn’t move, instead leaning in even closer, his lips brushing your ear, “yes or no?”

“cameron,” you breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

but he wasn’t having it.

his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “tell me you don’t want me too.”

he held your face by the jaw before leaning forward on instinct to kiss you but stopped himself right before he did. eyes on his lips now, completely entranced, you leaned forward to finish what he started but he was stopping you with his thumb. you stayed close though, gaze still fixated on his bottom lip and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“you gonna make me fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to him, the way your pulse quickened every time he was near, “and if i do?”

he didn't answer immediately, instead closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. his lips crashed against yours, his hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he squeezed you deliciously. 

all of a sudden, you were pressed against a wall, his body firm against yours, pinning you with his weight. he got a groan out of you, tilting your head as his grip tightened on your hips to keep you there, secured to him.

“this isn’t fair,” you pushed at his shoulder with your palm so that he pulled away to look at you, “you’re playing dirty.”

“so what?” he breathes out, jaw relaxed as his hips start to grind against yours.

your hand reached out to grab his shoulder for purchase when your hips started to move on their own, “oh fuck.”

rafe arched his hips sharply, teasing your clit, eliciting a gasp as you leaned your head against the wall, your chin tilting towards the ceiling. he kissed your neck, where sweat-dampened hair started to cling at your nape.

when did it get so hot in the stupid room?

“you’re—oh, gonna f-fuck me in a stranger’s room? real romantic,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out all wrong when his fingers pressed into the plush of your ass. 

he laughed against your skin, the sound making you tighten your legs around him. you were glad his hands were currently busy because a single touch between your thighs would expose how wet you were. 

“you can say it.”

your arms slided past his shoulders and loosely locked behind his neck, “no.”

rafe shook his head, “you asked for it.”

“rafe.”

he was poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek looking at you as if he was ready do destroy you whole, “told you i was gonna get it out of you.”

you blinked slowly, savoring the sight of his face, then your wrists, still crossed behind his neck, tugged gently, drawing him closer, craving his threat, “you’re gonna fuck me until i confess?

he lowered his head until his forehead met yours, your fingers could sense the rapid throb of his pulse beneath his jaw, his eyes tender, holding an adoration you never knew was possible. no one had ever looked at you that way. 

you pulled him by the fabric of his shirt, hard enough to make him understand he needed to do something. you moaned against his lips, fingers threading through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin.

your skirt rode up as he rutted into you, and his hand slipped under the fabric, fingers grazing the edge of your panties, teasingly close to where you ached for him most. you gasped, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

“rafeee,” you whimpered, “please."

he pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “say it,” he demanded, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, driving you crazy with anticipation.

“no.” you managed to choke out, feeling a flush of heat spread through your body.

he raised a brow, “no?”

his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your panties, finding you wet and ready. he groaned at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan his name. you clung to him, hips bucking against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

“you sure?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise. 

you barely had time to think about changing your answer before he plunged two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. your back arched off the wall, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“rafe, i'm—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your body trembling as you felt the orgasm build, ready to spill over.

but then he was pulling back just as you were about to fall over the edge. it was maddening, the way he seemed to know exactly how to bring you right to the cusp of pleasure and then deny it. you’d only fucked once before, and it felt like he’d memorize every single thing you liked. every spot that made your toes curl. 

“please, let me—”

“you said no, baby” he interrupted, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “you’re not ready.”

his fingers moved with practiced precision, slow and deliberate, stoking the flames of your desire without allowing you any release. every time you felt the pleasure building to its peak, he’d ease off, bringing you back down, only to start all over again.

you clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held you firm against the wall, his body a solid, unyielding barrier. “please,” you begged again, “i can’t take it.”

“oh, you can,” he scolded, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “and you will.”

his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, while his fingers thrust inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bucked against his hand, your body pleading for release, but he kept you balanced on that knife’s edge, never letting you tip over. motherfucker.

“I need to come,” you admitted, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, baby. i need to come.”

rafe’s pretty blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, but he still didn’t relent. 

instead, he slowed his movements even more, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. you writhed against him, your body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

“you want to come?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr, “that bad, huh?”

“t-this isn’t f-fair.”

“awww, sorry baby."

“fuck, fucking—"

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “just a lil more, yeah?”

he increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing faster against your clit, and you felt the pleasure building again, higher and higher, until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. but this time, he didn’t stop. this time, he pushed you right to the edge and then, finally, let you fall.

your orgasm crashed over like a train wreck, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. you screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. rafe held you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. 

he kissed you tenderly, his lips a gentle contrast to the intensity of what you’d just experienced. as you came down from your high, he held you close, his fingers still inside you, his thumb gently stroking your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

you couldn’t find the words to answer, your mind too foggy with pleasure. instead, you just held onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

rafe’s fingers slowly withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more. he lifted you gently, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with his casual tenderness. he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“i love you,” his voice was a soft caress against your ear. “i meant it.”

you looked up at him, “i know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “i think i love you too.”

“i know.”

[satorusugurugurl]

I love your writing!!!

Can i req Jjk men accidentally hurting reader during sex? If that’s ok w u, if not, it’s all good <33

JJK Men: Accidentally Hurting You In the Middle of Smexy Time

Summary: Things get a little too passionate in the middle of sexy time. And well, let's say tears are shed and not in a good way.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,337

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, biting, injury, crack, fluff, it's a fluffy crack post

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Love my some little crack posts like this!! I hope you enjoy! 😆

Gojo Satoru:

You smirk as Satoru throws his head back against the pillows. His mouth is hanging wide open as your rock back and forth on his cock. Slowly teasing him, clamping down to the point that he’s writhing under you. His hands are holding your hips, squeezing you, urging you to go faster, to do something!

“Y-Y/N, I need more, fuck!” He bites down on his bottom lip, looking at your conjoined bodies. “You’re killing me, babe, please, fuck.”

“More?” You cooed your thumb, brushing over his bottom lip. “Does my poor Toru want me to fuck his brains out~?”

“Y-Yes!!” He cried out, growling as you slowly inched off his cock before slamming back down. “Hah! Ah fuck~!!”

You bounced up and down, and the squelching sounds of your pussy were nearly silent as Satoru cried out. How cute was he? Crying out like a whore while you used his cock. So pretty, the sight had you throbbing around him as you arched your back, playing with your breasts.

Satoru was whimpering as he watched your thumbs graze over your erect nipples. That wasn't fair! He wanted to suck on them, lap his tongue over the sensitive buds. He moved, thrusting up into you as he tried to sit up. The deep thrust and sudden jerky movement had you wobbling. You fell forward. Ready to brace yourself on his chest only to meet his head.

Your foreheads collided together in a sickening crack. “Ow!” Your hand flew up to your head as Satoru rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. “Ooooh fuck that hurt!” You pulled off of him, hurrying to the bathroom. “Toru!” You snarled, touching the already swelling goose egg forming on your head.

“S’ your fault.” You glared into the mirror as he stood in the doorway. His cock was still erect, your arousal glistening on the shaft. “You fell forward!”

“Because you thrust into me!”

“I only moved because I wanted to suck on your nipples.”

“And I got a goose egg instead!” Your pout was adorable as you poked at the bump on your head again. “Dammit! What are you going to do to make it up to me?” Satoru stiffened, eyes quickly meeting yours in the mirror.

“I'm sorry?”

“I said, what are you going to do to make this up to me? You promised you'd never hurt me. And look who broke their word Sa-to-ru-” Each syllable of his name had his cock twitching eagerly. He moved, lifting you off the ground and carrying you back into the bedroom. “Oh my god!” You squealed as he threw you on the bed, slotting between your legs.

“I’ll make the pain go away,” Satoru whispered, dragging his tongue down your body. “You'll feel better in no time.” He winked before dipping his head between your thighs, his matching goose egg on full display.

Geto Suguru:

“Mmm~ nngh fuck Y/N, you taste so fucking good.” Suguru breathes out against your pussy before his tongue flicks at your clit again. “So sweet and tangy, fuck I want more of you.”

You’re a mess underneath him; your back is arching off the living room floor, your shorts thrown somewhere behind the couch as the warm spring breeze blows through the room. It carries the scent of fresh blooming flowers and the promise of sunny days. Which meant allergy season was to follow with it.

You gasped, hands gripping Suguru’s bun as he pulled you closer to his mouth. “S-Suguru~!” His lips sealed firmly around your clit as his dark eyes locked on yours. Why did he look so pretty when he was eating you out? That had to be a crime somewhere in the world. But as his teeth ever so gently grazed over your clit, all other thoughts went flying out the window. “F-fuuuck! Hah! Ah fuck!”

Suguru moaned, alternating his technique from nibbling your clit, to writing his name against you, using the tip of his tongue. His skills were being used at full force, eager to get you to cum all over his tongue before he fucked you right here in the living room. He knew it wouldn't take much for you to cum.

You tightened your grip on his hair, a familiar feeling settling over you. But it wasn’t your orgasm, no, this feeling was in your sinus’. It was a burning sensation that had your nose scrunching as your toes curled. Feeling a sneeze approaching, you covered your nose with your elbow as you sneezed hard, jerking against Suguru’s face. The sudden jerky movement from your sneeze startled your boyfriend so much that he slammed his teeth shut.

Just as he was nibbling on your clit.

You screamed in pain, your thighs clamping around your boyfriend's head as you yanked him away. Those dark eyes that had just been filled with lust were now filled with fear. You curled in on yourself, hands dipping between your legs, cupping your pussy. This new throbbing sensation was not at all enjoyable. Suguru sat back, staring at you in shock as tears stained your cheeks.

“Oh fuck, I bit your clit.” He stated the obvious.

”Yeah! No shit!” You barked back, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you grimaced.

“Oh fuck, what do I need to do? How can I help? I’m so sorry.”

”I don’t know, Suguru!” You sat up, still cupping your wet sex. “No one has ever bit my clit before!!”

The silence is almost palpable between you before Suguru turns to your couch. “Hey, Google, what do I do if I bite my girl—”

“Don’t ask out Google Home, you freak!”

In the end, Google provided you with the answer: Hot water, antibacterial soap, and ibuprofen.

Nanami Kento:

Hot water hit your back as Nanami fucked you from behind. Fuck it was so steamy, and you were talking about the water. Nanami was like an animal slamming into you over and over again. His grunts and growls bounced off the bathroom walls, making your cunt throb harder. God, he was so hot; everything about this was so hot.

All this happened because you mentioned you’d never had shower sex before. Best confession you’ve ever made!

Nanami grabbed a handful of your hair by yanking it. “Head up, love, I don't want you getting dizzy.” He was utterly perfect and patiently led you through this experience. Nanami was making it an overwhelmingly pleasurable experience! “Now, put your foot up here.” He grabbed your leg, positioning it on the edge of the tub. “And enjoy the ride.”

That was the only warning you were given before Nanami pulled all the way out before slamming back inside of you. You arched, silently screaming as he set a pace that had your skin slapping against each other in a beautiful harmony. God fuck, holy fuck he was so deep in this position. You could feel his cock hitting your g-spot and cervix perfectly with each thrust.

“N-Nana! Nanami!” you cried out as he slammed into you harder with a grunt, water going everywhere, from the walls and the side of the tub for the mere force of his thrusts. “K-Kiss, kiss me.”

“As you wish.” Kento’s lips found yours in a heated, passionate kiss. You felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Feeling you could squeeze around his thick cock, Nanami slid his hand over your stomach, pushing down on your back and making you arch.

This was a position you had done countless times in the past. On hotel balconies, against walls, and in his office. The only difference this time was that water was involved. When he suddenly pushed you forward, your foot on the tub's edge slipped. You fell forward, grabbing the shower curtain for support.

“Y/N!” Nanami tried reaching you, but it happened so fast. You slipped, falling out of the side of the shower. Your shoulder collided with the bathroom countertop. Nanami knew it was bad the second he heard a loud pop. The pain hit you like a train as you landed on your side, gasping out a strangled scream.

Nanami turned the water off and jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and draping it over you before dropping to his knees. “Oh fuck, that hurts.” You winced, your fingers and neck numb. “That hurts bad!”

“Here, let's get you up.” As Nanami helped you stand, both of you winced at the same time as you assessed the damage. That popping sensation was the sound of your shoulder dislocating; your arm dangled uselessly at your side. “Y/N, I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

“No, no, it's okay! It was an accident, Ken.” You sighed, turning to look up at him. “We should go see Shoko.” Nanami huffed out a sigh, nodding his head before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll call us a car.”

You followed after him, groaning. “Do you think Gojo will be there?” Nanami froze midstep, turning to face you as he got dressed. “He wouldn't let us live this down. He might even submit our story to one of those trashy television shows like ‘Sex Sent Me to The E.R.’ or something like that.”

“On second thought, we're going to the hospital.”

Choso Kamo:

“Choso!” Yuuji yelled from the living room of the apartment. Voice muffled from behind the closed door of the bedroom. Choso loved his brothers, but right now, he was more in love with being balls deep inside of you.

Your boyfriend's hand was clamped over your mouth as he rocked into you as hard as he could. If you both were quiet enough, maybe he'd leave. Yuuji called out for his older brother again as you whined against his palm. His cock throbbed, the bed rocking faster as Yuuji muttered something that sounded like a goodbye before the apartment door opened and shut.

The second he realizes you two are good, he pulls his hand away. “Awe, Cho~ are you shy?” Choso glances down at your smug smirk before he flushes.

“Y-You're his teacher. I-Isn't it strange?”

You purse your lips in thought before smirking. “What’s strange is the fact that you aren't fucking me right now, Choso~” With wide eyes and red cheeks, your boyfriend did as precisely as you asked.

His hips bucked forward, his large hands moving from the sides of your head to your thighs, where he spread your legs further apart. You screamed out, throwing your head back in pleasure as his trailed kisses over your collarbone. He was so deep, you didn’t want to let him go; your cunt hugged him tight, making it difficult for him to pull out.

The constricting grip your pussy had on him made Choso’s eyebrows scrunch together as his balls slapped against your ass. You were so wet and tight. If you kept squeezing him like this, he wasn’t going to last very long at all. But from how you squirmed, surely you weren’t doing any better than him.

“Choso~! Choso~! Oh fuck~! Yes, baby, baby, please~!!”

“Y/N, fuck! Haa— I’m going to cum~ I’m so close~!” He gritted out, the bed squeaking under you from the force of his thrusts.

“Choso!!” He flinched, hearing the door slam open again in the living room. “Bro, I know you’re here! I can see it on the Find My Friends app!”

“Just like that! Just like th-mmmmph!!” Choso's hands flew up, hitting you in the mouth and nose. Harder than he meant to. Your eyes stung as your nose throbbed painfully against the palm of his hand. “Mmnn.” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes.

Choso’s head was turned to the bedroom door. His chest was rising and falling as he listened to Yuuji, and oh god, was that Megumi with him? Why were they heading this way? You both had to do something! Oh, right, you would know what to do! Choso’s head whipped back to you as he felt something warm spreading over his palms.

Tears were sliding onto his fingers, your tears. Choso quickly jerked them away, and he was met with a gory sight. Blood was smeared under your nose and over your lips. The stream of tears made pink streams run down your chin as you sat up, reaching for a tissue.

“Y/N?! Oh sweetheart, fuck I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He glanced at the palms of his hands that were stained crimson. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!”

“No! It’s okay!” Your voice was muffled as you squeezed gently on your nose to stop the blood flow. “You were distracted. Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been hit in the nose before.” You gave him a thumbs-up with your free hand. “Just the first time it’s happened when I was having sex!”

Just before Choso could take over holding the tissue for you, his door flew open. “Choso!?” Yuuji was about to walk in, but he froze, taking in the scene before him. His older brother, under the sheets naked, was in bed with his teacher, who squeaked, hiding her also very naked body against his brother.

And there was blood, lots of blood.

In a panic, Choso tried to get up to explain what was happening. But Yuuji slammed the door before silence rang out. Choso’s head dropped while you kept holding the tissue to your nose.

“I-I’m going to the movies with Megumi and Kugisaki. I’ll be home later, Choso.”

“A-Alright, be careful.”

“See you on Monday, Y/L/N-Sensei!”

Choso sat there mortified as he processed what had just happened. Not only did he unintentionally hurt his girlfriend, but his younger brother had walked in on him. The stuffy giggle that slowly had him turning his head to look at you. Your smile was wide, and your cheeks were flushed. That shy grin made his shoulders feel lighter. He knew the two of you would get through this awkward situation together.

[spaceyrosie]

I won't hurt you anymore

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: you got hurt that caused you to be hospitalised while your dad was out for a case and instead of comforting you, Hotch came home angry about your decision.

Warnings: heavy angst, sadness, reader got hurt, Haley’s death, (tw: abandonment issues), Hotch was in the wrong, only slight comfort in the end

Author’s note: I only write sad things :( but here's another angst father-daughter relationship (no, not that kind of relationship 😌)

Word count: 1.2k

Hotch was tired, no he was exhausted.

But he has never felt this scared. He fumbled with his keys, the metal cold against his clammy skin, his movements jerky with adrenaline. 

Bursting through the apartment door, he was met with the flickering blue light of the television illuminating the living room with the sound muted. There, on the sofa, a small silhouette huddled beneath a blanket, their form dwarfed by the oversized furniture.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” The words erupted from him, booming into the silent living room. Hotch wasn’t thinking straight. All he could feel was fear choking him, making his voice course.

You flinched at the harshness in his tone. Your gaze remained fixed on the late-night talk show playing silently on the screen, your mind not registering anything.

"I had to pull myself out of an active case," he continued his voice a low growl. It was a telltale sign, a chink in his usually stoic armour that betrayed the fear gnawing at him. "Only for Garcia to call me telling me that the hospital called and you had discharged yourself," He trailed off, frustration lacing his voice. "Dammit, y/n, I told Anderson to stay with you! Gosh, what were you thinking?!"

Silence stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating the room with unspoken words. Hotch tapped his foot impatiently, a reflection to the frantic hammering of his heart. He needed a response, anything to break the suffocating quiet.

You shifted, the movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through your injured arm. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to focus, to clear the fog of confusion and pain clouding your mind. 

But the only thing that came through was a suffocating tightness in your chest, a pressure that had nothing to do with the broken bone.

“Say something, y/n Hotchner!” His voice was clipped, laced with a tightly leashed anger.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "No, Dad, you didn’t leave the team," you whispered, your voice raw with barely contained tears. "You had to leave me." You spoke quietly, the words echoing in the silence of the apartment.

Hotch's breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a moment, the stark accusation in your voice a physical blow.

“You left me.,” you continued, your voice monotone but laced with a tremor that betrayed your calm facade. “I was hurt, scared and alone but you left me.”

“Did you know how scared I was when Garcia called saying you left against medical advice?” His voice rose trying to defend on his outburst.

The sound of your choked sob shattered the peace, “I was scared, dad!” You all but shouted, the raw pain in your voice made Hotch stunned as he looked at your teary face. “I was scared and alone and in so much pain.” Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision.. 

“Do you know how scary it was?” You choked out, each word causing your chest to heave. “I needed someone-”

“Honey, I-” He started, his voice thick with remorse.

“I needed my dad,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “But you weren’t there.” This time you dared into his eyes, hoping to find any closure from the overwhelming emotions brewing in your chest.

The accusation hung heavy in the air, hitting him like a physical blow. 

He knelt before you, his gaze drawn to the telltale signs of your ordeal – the bandage on your arm, the stitches marring your face, a face so similar to your mother, the loss of his life. His heart ached, a dull throbbing that mirrored the dull ache of regret in his gut. He tried to hold your shoulders, but you flinched before shrugging it off.

“I want Mom,” you cried out, somehow pleading for an inconceivable wish. “Why can’t you be here for me?” It was as if a dam had broken within you, unleashing a torrent of pent-up emotions.

“I- honey, I-”  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he managed a choked, "I'm so sorry, honey."

Sorry doesn’t even begin to the sorrow he felt.

“Why didn’t you hold me? I needed you!”

You buried your face in your hands, the events of the day crashing down on you with renewed intensity. 

“How could you send Anderson?" you continued, the anger a desperate attempt to hold back the tide of tears. "We're in the same city, Dad!”

“You can’t even make time for me, even when I’m hurt.” And the words did not stop pouring, all the pain you felt when he left you for work. Since your Mom died a year ago, you noticed he had taken more work, staying up late at the Bureau and bringing work home. It hurts you, of course it did. 

"I hate you!" The words tore from your throat. You didn't mean it, not truly, but the pain and fear were a tangled mess in your chest, spilling out in the most primal way you knew how. Hotch took you into his arms as you struggle against his hold.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Your fists pounded a weak rhythm against his back, more out of frustration than anger.

"Shh…shh… I’m sorry," he soothed as he held onto his ground. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with remorse as he held you close.

A choked sob escaped your lips, the words "I hate you" dissolving into a whimper. Tears streamed down your face, hot and stinging, soaking the fabric of his suit. "I hate you," you whispered again, the accusation laced with a tremor of fear. "Why can't I hate you?"

Hotch rocks you gently, “I got you now, honey. I got you.”

He understood the illogical outburst, the desperate need to lash out at the one person who was supposed to be a constant. The sobs eventually subsided into hiccups, your body trembling with exhaustion. Hotch didn't let go, his embrace a silent promise of safety.

Pulling back slightly, his thumb brushed away a tear that fell from your eyes. His gaze, softened with a tenderness you hadn't seen in a while. "Look at me, y/n," he murmured.

"There's no excuse for leaving you when you were afraid and hurting," he said, each word heavy with sincerity. "And the regret of neglecting you will stay with me. I can't rewind time, but I promise, honey, I'll be there for you from now on."

A flicker of doubt, a remnant of your hurt, crossed your eyes. "Even when you're working a case?" 

Hotch met your gaze, "It's past time I make you a priority," he said. "I'm so sorry I didn't make that decision sooner." A heavy silence settled between you, thick with the weight of his words and the unspoken promises they carried.

He held you close, a silent promise echoing in his embrace. Your eyelids grew heavy, the emotional rollercoaster taking its toll. He continued to rock you gently, a steady rhythm against the silence of the apartment.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. 

"I'm here now." 

[chilling-seavey]

A request for George after his win! Surprising him with lingerie underneath your outfit when he gets back to Monaco

↳ A/N Thank you for this, anon! I know you sent it after Austria but I wasn't quite feeling inspired until the events of his Belgian weekend. I know you must have been hoping for elation but we can't have the highs without the lows. This came of it (and was a great way to purge my feelings-)

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 3.8k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, oral (m receiving, kinda deep throating?), slight cum play, desecrating items that loosely symbolize the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team after the heartbreak of Sunday, July 28th, this is also incredibly unedited so don't come for me if it sucks LOL

George felt so out of place returning home empty handed. It was as if his mind hadn’t processed what the fuck had happened. That morning, getting into the car, his goal was a podium at best. Suddenly, he had found himself on top step of all places after a risky one-stop race he managed to pull off against all odds. Then, in the midst of his elation, the news broke that he was disqualified for his car being 1.5kg underweight. 

He could still feel the weight of the trophy in his hands, the shiny gold metal under his lips, the rapid thudding of his heartbeat in his ears as he was caught in the arms of his team. The team that had betrayed him with an underweight car and being the cause of his beautiful first place trophy to be snatched from his hands. Oh, God, he swore his heart had never hurt this badly after a race before in his entire career. Anger and sadness were a toxic, cruel mix.

It was a blessing and a curse that it was now summer break. On one hand, it gave him a good amount of time to catch his breath, recharge, and come back ready to fight. On the other hand, his disqualification left a pit in his stomach that he was going to be stuck feeling for the following three weeks until he could rewrite himself a new race. The whole flight back to Monaco, he just wanted to get home and curl into a ball and rot for three weeks. He angrily ranted in his head that he didn’t want to see another statistic, another car, another person until Zandvoort, dammit. 

But then he saw you, sitting in the warm light of the dining room when he stepped across the threshold of your modest apartment. He saw you and all the tension in his body just melted and he thanked God that you were his person he could see for the next three weeks. 

Of course, you knew what had happened. If it wasn’t thanks to the plethora of Formula 1 news and updates that were filling up your phone, it was the emotional texts from George, the tearful phone call from his drivers room, that undeniable connection you had to him that made your heart absolutely ache for him. The moment he stepped inside, you were shutting your laptop and taking the few quick strides across the hardwood floor and throwing your arms around him. 

He melted into your arms like butter.

You instinctively slid your hands around his back, rubbing along his spine, feeling him exhale in your embrace like he hadn’t been able to breathe the whole trip home. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, burying his face in your neck with a shaky inhale as if trying to pull you into all of his senses. 

“Oh, my love…” you cooed gently, tangling your hand in the back of his hair to scratch your fingers through the roots consolingly, “You’re home.”

George held onto you for a moment longer, accepting the comfort of your embrace, “Yeah.”

You pulled away just far enough to share a fleeting chasté kiss, your hands naturally finding each others between your bodies. You pressed another kiss to his cheek as his eyes drifted over your shoulder to look across the apartment. On the console table in the living room sat his trophy from Brazil and his trophy from Austria. Beside them, the empty space looked miles wide. It was supposed to be a trio. He had made it a trio. 

He shut his eyes for a moment again in frustration and exhaustion, “I just want to sleep. Forget today ever happened.”

You studied his downcast gaze for a moment, the way he stared at your joint hands, your thumbs caressing his knuckles. In a whisper, you pitched in a soft light tone, “I was hoping we could celebrate…like we usually do after a podium or a win…”

George let out a dry laugh, “There’s nothing to celebrate, love.”

“Yes, there is.” you insisted strongly, “This is still your win, no matter what the FIA says. That’s bullshit. This was the best race of your career and you won it on your own merits.”

“What do I have to show for it?” he retorted almost sharply, as if he didn’t want to talk about this anymore, “Nothing. Lewis got his 105th P1 trophy and I got nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” you insisted, “He got your P1 trophy. It was gifted to him, not earned.”

George’s shoulders slumped, and he mumbled, “It just hurts so bad.” 

“I know. I feel it too.” you breathed, “My heart breaks for you. I wish there was something I could do to take away your hurt.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” George sighed, defeated, stepping away from you to head farther into the kitchen to fetch himself a glass from the cupboard. “The rules are the rules. It’s a brutal sport and sometimes, honestly, it’s fucking unfair. There’s nothing either of us can do to make any of this feel better.”

You leaned forward on the peninsula countertop, watching as he poured himself a glass of water. His face was still stone and flat despite the flush of his cheeks from the hurricane of emotions stirring within him for the last however many hours. He didn’t deserve this. Despite everything, you knew that there was something you could do to at least take his mind off of the chaos and upset of the day. Your lips pursed in thought and then you replied to his statement in a blasé tone, “Fine. Then I guess I shouldn’t bother with your surprise.”

He perked up a little, almost like a dog, his eyes snapping back over to you as he stopped pouring, “What surprise?” 

You shrugged modestly and took a step back from the counter, letting your hands fall to your sides, “Oh, nothing. You don’t want to celebrate so…”

“Well, hold on a second,” George put the water filter back in the fridge and closed it so he could give his full attention to you. The peninsula stretched between you, the clink of his glass on the countertop the only sound for a moment. He spoke again, eyes trained on you, “You got me something?”

“Of sorts.” you took another step away, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “I’ll show you, but you’re not up for it so…”

George’s eyes followed the movement of your hands as you started to pull up the bottom of your shirt, his eyebrows slowly raising with it in anticipation. You finally dropped your shirt to the ground, revealing the lacy teal bra you wore, the fabric standing out against your skin. Around your waist rested a matching teal garter belt that accentuated your curves, its silk straps disappearing down past the waistband of your slacks. His tongue darted out between his lips habitually at the sight of you, eyes skimming down your body as you dropped your pants and kicked them to the side to show off the matching pair of panties on your hips and the lace garters that hugged your thighs. 

“Jesus.” George exhaled. 

“An untimely choice for Petronas teal,” you said casually, your tone holding a playful smirk, “because I know we’re mad at the team right now but…maybe that just means you can tear it off me.”

He just blinked at you, “Yes.”

“Yeah?” your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, biting back your smile, fingers tracing the shape of your breasts in the cups of your bra, “Suddenly you’re up for your surprise?” 

“It is certainly a well welcomed distraction.” George replied, basically speaking to your chest. 

“Think it’ll make you feel better?” 

“Loads.”

“Where do you want it? Bedroom or…?”

George took a step back from the counter and snapped his fingers to the floor at his feet, “Right here.”

Who were you to deny George Russell a damn thing? 

You sauntered around the counter and into the kitchen where he stood, slinging an arm around his shoulders as you both leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and simple and his hands fell to your hips as your lips met again, sharing a few more soft close-mouthed kisses as if testing the waters. After a moment, he tilted his head to the side a little and parted your lips with his own before locking your bottom one between his two. 

Your small moan had him breaking away from that kiss to quickly move in for another, raising a hand up to the side of your face to hold you there. You swore you could taste the remanence of champagne on his tongue as it nudged against yours; a reminder that he was the winner through and through. In everything but the obvious, he was the winner. Your winner. 

Butterflies shot through your stomach as he deepened your kisses, resting his thumb under your chin to guide you into each one and you followed his lead with ease. The two of you fell into a familiar rhythm of lips and tongues, filling the kitchen with the lewd sound of your kisses. George’s hand was warm against the small of your back, resting there politely for a few moments, just above the fabric of your panties. 

Your hands slid down his chest over his t-shirt, blindly fisting the material with a nudge upwards to silently get him to take it off. He pulled away from your lips long enough to do just that, aimlessly letting his shirt fall onto the countertop. His eyes were already falling half-lidded and lustful, staring at you almost down his nose with this sinful expression and this bite to his swollen bottom lip that could have had you dropping your knees in an instant. Instead, you dusted a kiss to his angular jaw line, his neck, his throat; feeling his small groan under your lips. 

You kissed down his chest, between his pecs, over his abs - your hands trailing after sensually, rising goosebumps over his tanned skin. As you sank to your knees in front of him on the kitchen floor he pulled in a shaky inhale, his fingers carding through your hair. 

“My three time race winner.” you purred up to him as you slowly unbuttoned his slacks, moving slowly and sensually to drag it on a little longer, building on that anticipation that thudded warmth through his veins. “I think you deserve a reward for your performance today.”

Before he could reply with any kind of half-self-deprecating rebuttal about his unfair disqualification, your hand was slipping through his fly and giving his clothed cock a squeeze over his underwear. George withered slightly, words dying at his lips, channeling his emotions into the reassurance of your touch and how much he had missed your presence throughout the weekend. You always knew how to take his mind away from the darkest places. 

“Mm,” you hummed contently as you palmed him strongly, feeling the thick shape of him pressing against your hand through his briefs, “already getting hard for me, aren’t you?”

George breathed out a dreamy, “Yeah.”

You tugged at the waistband of his slacks a little to force him a half step closer, just so you could lean in and press a slow, open mouthed kiss to the bulge he was hiding beneath the fabric. Your eyes fluttered up to look at his face, finding him already staring down at you, and you sent him a sultry smile with your fingers linking in the waistband of his underwear

Without a word, you pulled them and his slacks down his legs, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you watched him be revealed before your eyes. You had seen him naked and uncountable number of times but in moments like that, he still managed to take your breath away. 

You left his pants and underwear forgotten around his ankles as your priority quickly shifted to something far more pressing. In a gentle hand, you cupped his balls and his dick in one go, feeling the weight of him hungrily. Your unwavering gaze stared at how he stiffened up some more right before your eyes, forcing you to habitually lick your lips. You were salivating. 

“My God, baby,” you breathed, giving him a tender squeeze just to pull a groan from his chest, “You have such a pretty cock.”

“All yours.” George replied easily, his accent thick with lust, his slender fingers still brushing through your hair. 

“All mine.” you echoed. 

Keeping his eye contact, you leaned in to purse your lips and press a slow, wet kiss right to the tip. His chest shuddered through his next inhale at your action, staring down at you wide-eyed and needy. 

You raised your other hand to join your first, using one to cradle his balls while the other held his cock steady for you to press another precise kiss to the head. Turning to press another kiss to the length, you hummed in appreciation for the warmth under your lips. Holding him tenderly in your hands, you tried not to smirk too wide at your own ridiculousness as you teased up to him, “I dunno how they declared your car underweight when you were carrying this heavy load.” 

George let out a breathy genuine laugh, shutting his eyes for a second and lolling his head back in disbelief over your corny words, “Jesus, love.”

“So delicious.” you hummed, licking your lips before teasingly lapping at the tip with your tongue, earning a tight gasp from his throat. “So, so, delicious.” 

Keeping your hands in place, you swirled your tongue around the swollen head of his cock before settling your lips around it for a soft suckle. Your eyes fluttered closed as you stayed like that for a moment, testing the waters, giving him the slightest suction and warmth of your mouth. 

“Darling-” George withered, his hand slipping to the back of your head to try and pull you deeper. 

You pulled back again, pausing just long enough to spit on it, letting your hand start to move to slick him up in it, before you answered innocently, “What is it?”

George chuckled breathily, “You are such a tease.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, keeping your hand moving in precise twisting strokes, “Does my race winner want me to suck his dick? Give him his reward for a job well done?”

You dribbled more spit onto the tip, letting your hand move a little faster. He inhaled sharply at the change in pace, fingers almost tugging at the back of your hair with need to get your mouth back on him. You held back.

“Please, love, I need it. I need your mouth.” George purred, his voice dreamy and rich.

“And you deserve it.” you reminded him.

And then you were swallowing him up in one smooth motion. 

“O-Oh, fuck-” George gasped sharply, his entire body flinching at the sudden presence of your warm, wet mouth around him. His eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched, trying to keep his composure with a stiff grunt. 

He tasted warm and slightly salty against your tongue, resting thick and heavy in your mouth. You could have stayed there on your knees with him just settled in your mouth all night but the desire to bring him pleasure outweighed your selfishness. So, you started moving in slow bobs of your head with your hand still snug around the base to keep him where you needed him. 

Up and down, in and out, slowly and surely. You kept your tongue running along the underside of his thick cock with every stroke, making sure to hollow your cheeks every time you pulled back. You knew what he liked. 

George never pushed you but he always encouraged you; his hand resting on the back of your head and following your motions to help you keep your tame pace, only pulling you along the slightest bit. He was staring down at you with a lascivious gaze, long lashes hiding dilated blue eyes, swollen pink lips parted to let out breathy gasps and soft moans. You pushed yourself a little deeper. 

“Crikey-”

His ridiculous exclamation had you letting out a small wet laugh that, given that your mouth was full of dick, sounded more like a gag than anything. His fingers tightened in your hair with a handsome moan from his chest, wanting to make you do that again. 

You slowly nuzzled your mouth farther, choking slightly on him until your eyes were watering and spit was trickling down your chin. When he reached as far as you could easily take him, your body lurched with a wet gag and you pulled away. 

“Fuck, love, you’re insatiable.” George praised. 

You took a second to catch your breath, smiling proudly up at him as your hand took over for your mouth for a moment. The slick sound of your spit under every quick pump of your palm filled the otherwise silent kitchen, luring more melodic moans from your beloved’s throat. Everything about him was perfect to you; a perfect man who deserved the entire world. When someone tried to take the world from him, you would do everything in your power to try and make it better for him. 

With a lick and a bite to your spitty lips, you dropped your gaze from his face to your hand, watching how he looked with your fingers wrapped around his thick girth. Your other hand still cradled his balls, giving them a little squeeze and caress at the same time. 

George’s free hand dropped to the counter beside him, suddenly in need of support to keep himself upright.

You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his leaking tip, once, twice, and then you were wrapping your lips around it again. This time, your hand kept going, moving in firm twisting strokes in time with your mouth. George panted from above you, fingers tangled in your hair, his hips trying not to nudge into your touch at the same time, not wanting to hurt you in the process. 

But you gladly took the initiative, gagging yourself on his cock until tears were stinging your eyes and your senses were taken up entirely by him. The scent of sex lingered in your nostrils, filling the kitchen, swirling around the two of you in a salacious cloud. It was a reminder of the balance of your lust and love, the connection you shared, how you would never stray from giving him the best treatment - no matter how filthy.

George let out a string of expletives under his breath as you worked him graciously, his eyes screwing shut. You could feel how he throbbed in your hand, already so close, so you slowed a little before pulling away again. 

He groaned in displeasure at being edged but you didn’t let him linger in that for too long. Instead, you asked him, “Where do you want to cum?”

Not having anticipated that question, George’s eyes fluttered open, his eyebrow furrowed in slight confusion as he processed your words through his lust. He licked his lips, bit them, let out a little hum in thought. Then, his gaze dropped to that pretty little set you were wearing. His eyebrows raised with a slight nod towards you, “On those perfect fucking tits.”

You smiled slyly up at him and kept your hand going, “Whatever you want, race winner.”

“Jesus, you’re so good to me.” he exhaled, taking his hand from your hair to take over for you. 

You let go of his cock, spitting on it once more to make sure he was plenty wet, and for a second you just watched as he stroked himself up to that same speed you had going prior. Right in your face, his large hand jacked himself off in frustrated tugs behind heavy breaths, staring down at you with an intense purpose behind his eyes. 

Lifting up onto your knees a little more, you used your hands to push your breasts together in your lacy teal bra so it was right up close to him. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment as you just took in the sights and sounds of it, watching him use you to get off. 

“That’s it…come on.” you encouraged warmly, glancing up at his face with a lick to your lips. 

The pleasure that was rippled across his face was gorgeous, right down to the hints of pink across his cheeks that stretched down the sides of his neck and the slight scrunch of his nose. So concentrated, on a one track mind. 

“That’s it,” you repeated, looking at his hand on his cock again, in a dizzy haze at how hot the sight was. You pressed your breasts together a little more, the teal fabric standing out in the warm light of the kitchen, and you let your stream of consciousness out to get him there faster, “That’s it. Show me how you feel about your team right now…how you hate the sight of this colour right now. Come on. Ruin it. Desecrate it. That’s it, baby, come on.”

“Fuck-” George choked out. 

“Uh huh. Come on, baby. Ruin it. That’s it.” you nodded him on, speaking a little louder as his moans and gasps rose in volume and pitch. 

And then, pretty spurts of white were shot across your chest as he moaned handsomely through the kitchen. You shifted slightly to make sure he got most of it on the bra itself, thrilled on the symbolism of what he just did entailed. 

“That’s it.” you purred as he faded out of his orgasm, “Beautiful.” 

You reached up to set your hand around his on his throbbing dick, leaning in to clean up the tip with an eager tongue and a few little suckles, making him hiss in sensitivity. Your smiling eyes locked on his face as you sat back on your haunches again, wiping your mouth and chin with your thumb before your fingers were trailing through his cum splattered across your chest and you smeared it over your bra some more. He watched you breathlessly, only letting out a soft groan as you licked your fingers off. 

Without tearing your eyes away from his, you stated teasingly, “Next time we’ll break into Brackley and have you cum all over the trophy that should have stayed yours.”

George couldn’t even word a response for a second between your outlandish ‘idea’ and the fact that you took his wrist and guided his fingers into your mouth just after. His lips trying to form a reply to no avail, wide eyes staring down at how you sucked his fingers clean, before all he could do was let out a breathy huff of laughter and turn his head away from your insistent gaze. His pleasured, suddenly shy silence spoke volumes. You grinned proudly up at him. 

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[wheeboo]

emergency contact {pt. 1} | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which an accident forces you to call your emergency contact. PAIRING. ex bf!choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. cousin!joshua but he’s only mentioned for the sake of plot) GENRE. angst, light fluff, exes to ??, hurt/comfort, second chances WARNINGS. mentions of an accident and speeding (drive safely, please!), mentions of a vague break-up, depiction of injuries, implied that reader struggles w/ mental health and goes to therapy WORD COUNT. 1.9k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 →

The moment Seungcheol got the call from the hospital, he knew that something was wrong. 

Without a second thought, he abandons everything in a fleet of urgency, almost as if he lost control of his entire body. He feels the intense pounding of his heart and the anxiety flowing through his veins as the thoughts of you lingering in the dark corners of his mind come back to him.

He remembers you telling him about setting your emergency contact under his name and expected for you to remove it after your break-up, but it seems like you didn’t make the effort to, or... just simply forgotten to. Even if you didn’t want to see him, even if the call was out of spite, Seungcheol knew that he had to be by your side. He has to. It was a promise that he made to himself.

“Come on, come on, hurry up,” Seungcheol urges frustratingly through gritted teeth, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “Drive faster, god dammit.”

As Seungcheol speeds through the streets, his knuckles turn white from the intensity of his grip. Every red light lasts an eternity, every slow-moving car in front of him tests his patience. Time seems to taunt him, stretching the seconds into feeling like hours.

Turning a corner, the hospital finally comes into view. He parks his car hastily, barely taking a moment to collect himself before rushing through the sliding doors. The pungent smell of septic hits his nostrils as he enters inside the building. Seungcheol realises it’s been a while ever since the last time he came to the hospital.

As he follows the signs and continues to walk, he feels a mixture of nervousness and anticipation thinking about seeing you, the bittersweet and painful conversations leading up to the break-up clouding his mind. Was this really the best choice?

But if you choose to push him away, he wouldn’t stop you.

Seungcheol’s steps echo loudly in the hallway as he approaches the entrance to the emergency ward. Each step brings a wave of uncertainty, making him torn between wanting to be by your side and his respect for the boundaries you may have set.

With a long, deep breath, he pushes open the door to the emergency ward, and he’s already met with an overwhelming sight𑁋doctors and nurses rushing past to attend to patients in need, the repetitive beeping of machines, and an atmosphere thick with tension.

Seungcheol steps up to the receptionist with his hands clasped nervously together. “Excuse me.”

The receptionist looks up at him with a welcoming smile. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I received a call from... Their name is Y/N. I’m their emergency contact.” He mentally curses to himself for stumbling over his words. 

The receptionist types frantically on her keyboard. “I see, and are you the guardian of this patient?”

“Yeah, I’m...” Seungcheol takes in a breath, feeling the uncertainty building up. “I’m their boyfriend.”

The receptionist nods understandingly and gives Seungcheol a sympathetic look. "I'll check the records and find out where they are. Please wait a moment,” After what feels like an endless amount of clicking and typing, she looks back up with a glint of hope. “Yes, there is a patient under that name who has been transferred to our patient care unit in room... 214. You can proceed past those doors, continue straight ahead, and you’ll reach it.”

He thanks the receptionist and hurriedly makes his way towards the designated area. His eyes scan each of the room numbers, and after feeling like walking through a maze, he finally reaches the hallway and finds himself paused in front of your room.

Seungcheol feels his heart pounding once more, and it felt almost painful to withstand. But with a deep inhale, he gives the door a quick knock and waits a few moments before stepping inside. 

He’s met with utter silence broken only by rhythmic beating of the heart monitor. As he pushes past a drawn curtain, he finally sees your fragile form on the bed. A heavy weight settles in his chest as he takes in the sight of your injuries: one of your arms had been plastered up, a few noticeable stitches to the skin above your eyebrows, and bruises painted over the skin of your forearm and another one on your cheekbone.

Your eyes were closed and your breathing appeared steady, but he can’t bare to think the amount of pain you might be in and that he can’t do much to ease it. He wishes he can just hold you in his arms, to tell you that he was here, but he can’t do that.

Seungcheol slowly makes his way to a seat sitting against the wall, pursuing his lips together to keep himself quiet. But when he makes it to the seat, a low mumble makes him pause in place. 

“Who...” You struggle to open your eyes, vision hazy. You attempt to turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to a blurry figure you can barely make out. “Joshua?”

Seungcheol smiles faintly. The sound of your voice makes his stomach leap.

“It’s Cheol... Uh, Seungcheol,” he corrects you. Joshua is one of his close friends and also your cousin.

“Cheol?” You find yourself instinctively sitting up at the mention of his name, but Seungcheol races to your side and places a hand at the small of your back, guiding you back down on the bed. 

“I𑁋Be careful. You were just in an accident.” When you glance down to where his hand was on your back, he swiftly takes it away.

Situating your back down on the bed, you let out a light chuckle, cringing from the slight discomfort in your chest. “I-I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said they were calling whoever was in my emergency contact, and I... remembered it was you.”

Seungcheol feels his heart clench around your words. “Do you... want me to leave?”

You pause for a moment, before shaking your head slowly. “No, it’s... You can stay,” You finally look up at him, meeting his soft gaze and his slightly disheveled appearance. “It feels comforting that you’re here, and I... don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Relief washes over Seungcheol’s face. He takes the seat from behind and brings it closer to your bed, finally able to get a close look at your face. And when you turn to look at him, you could’ve sworn something was tugging at the strings of your heart. You remember that look𑁋the same look he would give you whenever you weren’t looking at him, yet you knew he was looking at you. It was a look of fondness, a look of affection that you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“Is it bad?” You ask him, interrupting the tension-filled silence. “My face?”

You see his expression change to worry, and he leans slightly closer to take a better look at you. His eyes trace over the bruises and clean cuts on your face, even to a small cut at the corner of your lips that he just notices, but he doesn’t mention anything about them. Instead, he gives you a gentle smile that causes his dimples to deepen slightly and a shake of his head.

“You’re still...” As beautiful as ever, he wanted to say, but he lets those words fade. “Don’t worry, they’ll all heal eventually.”

You only give a nod to his words. The air between you both hangs heavy with unspoken words as you exchange stolen glances. The room feels confined, almost suffocating, as if it's begging for the walls to break down and release the pent-up emotions the two of you were hanging on to. Perhaps you both knew what your hearts are yearning for, but why is it so hard to simply say I miss you?

Seungcheol is the first to clear his throat. “I heard you’re going to therapy again.”

His words make your head cower down in shame, eyes locked at the ends of the hospital bed as you feel the pit of guilt bury itself in your stomach. You know he’s not judging you𑁋he never has and never will𑁋but you can’t shake the feeling away. 

“Did Joshua tell you that?” 

“Does it bother you that I ask about you sometimes?”

Both of your voices tangle together, but you hear his question clearly. You don’t feel irritated or annoyed because after all, you were the one who decided to end the relationship as you let your insecurities and fears project onto your burdening feelings. At the time you thought Seungcheol deserved better, and you let those thoughts ultimately make your decision without even considering his own feelings. And ever since then, you’ve wanted nothing more than to express the depth of your regret. 

“Because I still care about you, you know?” You hear him continue. “and I want to know how you’re doing. But if you want me to stop, I can𑁋”

“Cheol,” You call his name sternly, surprising both him and yourself as he closes his mouth right away from his rambling. Overturning the hesitation, you finally confess, “I-I ask about you sometimes too.”

Seungcheol's feels his mouth go dry, caught off-guard by your words. A mixture of surprise, relief, and a flicker of hope dances across his features. But he keeps himself from getting his hopes up.

“And therapy... has been well,” He swears he sees that glimpse of hope in your eyes as well. “It’s been hard, but I think I’ve been making a lot of progress.”

“That’s good,” Seungcheol comments, scooting himself closer to the bed. “I’m proud of you, you know that, right?”

You know he’s proud of you. Whenever you made those kinds of efforts, even the smallest kinds such as getting out of bed, taking a shower, or eating a single bite of a home-cooked meal, you remember Seungcheol giving you those words of praise, the kisses he would shower you with, the way being his arms felt safer than your own head, and the genuine reminder that he was there for you and ready to drop everything just to make sure you were okay. 

But your thoughts always considered otherwise. 

Seungcheol reaches out tentatively upon noticing your stillness, his hand inching closer to your free one. His fingers brush against your skin, lightly over one of your bruises, and a shiver runs down your spine. You look at his hand, then meet his eyes, and he silently asks for permission.

Nodding ever so slightly, his hand laces with yours, and it feels as if a missing puzzle piece has finally found its place. The warmth spreads from his touch, easing the ache in your heart and the shakiness of your breathing. You both sit there in pure silence, hand-in-hand, the weight of the past slowly dissipating and leaving only the present moment.

“Seungcheol.”

Your voice sends him back to reality, his mind not processing the presence of your hand in his just yet. “Yes? Are you okay? Do you need something?”

You give him a shake of your head, chuckling quietly at his expression.

“No, I’m okay, but I was wondering...” You bite your lip reluctantly, eyes switching back between your clasped hands and his focused look. “Do you... want to stay the night?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen at your unexpected question. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The desire to be with you is overwhelming, but he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. Anything but that.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable𑁋”

“It’s okay,” You reassure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “I want you here with me. I’ve... I’ve really missed you.” And I want to tell you how sorry I am for letting you go.

A smile crosses his face, eyes lighting as he brings your hand carefully up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to a bruised spot as if to convey his appreciation. You can’t help but smile in return, feeling a surge of warmth spreading through your chest. The simple gesture holds so much meaning, like a tender reassurance of your unbroken connection that you both seek to repair together. 

“Okay,” is all he replies with. Because you have no idea how much I’ve missed you too.

[metranart]

He sighed, and kissed the crown of your hair. “You really need to stop overreacting each time I touch you, baby bird.” You tried to pry his hands away, but he was just so much stronger than you. “Then stop fucking touching me without my permission, Keigo!”

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader.

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 7)

- Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut. -

You could hear the water running, splash! splash! repeatedly, your body felt much better than when you had fallen asleep, you felt rested, relaxed, all your muscles had loosened... and that clear drumming against your back, very calm and rhythmic, it felt delicious, hypnotic. You didn't want to wake up, and suddenly you relax even more, God! Your whole body trembled violently with pleasure that invaded every pore, it was delirious, and you loved it. A soft moan came out of your half-open lips, like music to the ears of your companion.

“That´s it, baby bird, this is how things should be always.” A different kind of chills flooded your arms at the sound of Keigo’s voice so close to the shell of your ear. “My little girl fits so nicely inside her mate´s arms.” His contented sigh brushed the skin on your bare shoulder, and it was only when his warm, wet lips landed on the exposed skin that you forced your eyes to open.

“—W-what?!....” you breathed awake, the steam from the hot tub flooding your nostrils and filling your lungs with aromas of vanilla and lavender. “Where-where...... why am I wet?” water raised barely covering your naked breasts, your heart almost beat out of your goddamn chest when a strong set of arms squeezed you tight against another equally solid chest.

“Don´t stress yourself, baby bird, I barely managed to make you cu-” Keigo cut himself midsentence, purposely halting his speech at once, knowing that the truth will only anger you. He was trying to be a good boy, even now, with you trashing and forcing him to grip you hard to ground you firmly against him, he was still trying. 

“Stop-” he said calmly, pinning your flapping arms down with one thick forearm, “cut it out, I'm not going to hurt you,” his tone sounded considerably calmer as if trying to convey that feeling to you, even so, you shook your head and peeked up from around his thick neck. “What’s going on? Why are we soaking together?!” You stressed out.

“Not soaking, I'm helping you bathe,” Keigo said as serious as he could. “You desperately needed to relax or it´ll hurt—” suddenly halted his speech again and this time you could glimpse worry shine on his orbs, “you are a stubborn one, but I finally managed to-…... play the right notes.” He intoned, lowly. “Next one will go smoother—”

“—Next what?!”

You stayed there, in stunned silence waiting for him to fill the gaps. If you were understanding correctly, he had undressed you one more time without your permission, and then got into the bathtub with you to help you wash while you were unconscious and somehow hoped you wouldn't go into hysterics.

“KEIGO! Answer me.” You blasted, but the only thing the winged man could concentrate on was the way his name rolled off your tongue, SO fucking devastating, so addictive. Maybe he´ll stay quiet more often to force you to call for him again. 

“Hawks! Dammit!”

Well, his silence didn’t sew fruits. He sighed, and kissing the crown of your hair, said, burdensomely. “You really need to stop overreacting each time I touch you, baby bird.” You tried to pry his hands away, but he was just so much stronger than you. 

“Then stop fucking touching me without my permission, asshole!”

Keigo silently embraced you, stubbornly holding stoic and steady for you, tilting his head so you could calm your breathing into the crook of his neck.  It was warm and soft and damp with soapy water. You breathe him in, out of your control and clutch him tight with your palm and feeling your heartbeat gradually start to slow down, you manage to ask again more calmly.

“What will go smoother next time, Haw-...Keigo?” You force yourself to say his name, just to feel his heartbeat race against your back.

“Cum—” he said shyly through half-lidded eyes, “cumming has calming properties, especially for you-” he said quietly after a moment. “It’ll help more than the bath itself. I promise.”

He waited like a statue for your reply, frozen in anticipation and fright, but it never came. Slowly peeking down, found you staring intently at him, unmoving.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he eventually gasped when you still didn’t say anything. “You were not supposed to notice, you were only supposed to wake up happier and more relaxed...” he continued, “actually…. well, you can tell-...feel that your body is healed,” Hawks released your arms from his grasp to demurely run his hands along your sides, “I was able to deduce your Quirk, baby bird, and I think I found a way to use it that you didn’t know about—" 

The emotion in his voice was palpable, and it was only when you felt his large hand slide between your folds that you came out of shock.

“W-Wait! What do you think you are doing-…?” 

Your hand held his trying to stop him but despite your efforts his fingers continued to caress you, expertly massaging your clit.  His thumb seemed to have a mind of its own, circling over your bundle of nerves at just the right speed, precise pressure, exact movements.  

“No—…Please-eee!”  you wailed, and in no time that broken wail turned into sultry moans.  

The bastard was playing the right notes by heart, you were so close, your body began to contort, hands scratching at his neck while searching for support. His lips glued to your ear, praising you, devotedly.  

“Go on, let it happen, baby bird, let me make you cum on my fingers —… GOD! You look so sexy like this…. writhing around in the water on top of my body while you let me masturbate you…. I ask for nothing more in this life, just that you allow me to be this close forever~” kisses bathed your ear and the side of your head, until the intense orgasm he was slowly building exploded and with it your sanity.

A loud moan erupted from your throat like explosive lava from a volcano, and Hawks kept going, helping you ride the waves of pleasure, his breath ragged as he watched your hip lazily follow the movement of his fingers.  Your body already recognized it as its owner, why not you?  He hated that, but he loved how easy he could play you.  

Finally, your body stopped moving, and sprawled on top of his front. Your breathing slowly became harmonious again, sleepy eyes, hot water, Hawks hugging you against him enviously, his arms circling your waist and your head resting on his shoulder.  

“I told you, I already know how to turn on your quirk…” you did an effort to glance up at him, question shinning in your orbs and he hurried to explain, “—the orgasm is an emergency button for you, it tells your body to release the energy and heal you-even if you are knocked out or weak, you’re as good as new, my sweet girl,” his words caressed your brain, “you are more than ready to return the favor to your lovely and devoted mate, who took so much trouble to find out the right cords—don’t you agree?”

“Return-return the… favor?” you mumbled, still disoriented. 

“Yep.” He clicked his tongue, and you felt his length split your thighs apart, smearing against your swollen folds. “If you are going to have my chicks, we need to keep this womb properly fed.” Keigo explained happily, his index finger tracing your bellybutton under the water, the tip of his cock bumping your entrance insistently. “Just relax for me, I’ll do the rest—”

You knew you couldn’t stop him, so you thought fast, and even though you didn’t want to… If this would help you avoid being raped again, it was worth a try.  

Closing your thighs, you caught his erection in between the hot, wet skin, and started a clumsy swing with your hips, massaging his hard cock between the supple flesh, your fingers caressing the tip each time it peeked out. You knew your moves were awkward to say the least, but your effort seemed to be greatly appreciated by the Pro hero who moaned hoarsely.

“My, my, you’re so naughty~…I ADORE you so much! Yes! You are my beginning and my end, the moon to my stars.... I am so happy to have found you, my baby bird- I will protect you from everything, from everyone... for as long as I am breathing........” his embrace was so possessive that your body seemed buried in his, you could feel every tense and swollen muscle, the thickness of his strong thighs, the power of his powerful arms... he seemed to be made of polished steel and coated in cotton candy and neediness.

“I want to cum inside—…. yeah? My mate doesn’t mind, does she?” He asked, bluntly breaching your pussy just a tad while waiting for an encouragement that will never come. You needed to distract him more, and before he could adjust the position of his hips, you kissed him. 

The very act captivated him. You had not kissed him like this before, even your first kiss was merely a tangle of tongues -nothing too passionate- but this… this was what internally craved. He always stole your lips, but you had never done it so intentionally and that mesmerized him, making him a slave to your desires. 

His lips danced to a soft and tender rhythm, Keigo letting you guide, your thighs masturbating him while your lips did the rest. His heart was pounding so hard it was easy to mistake it for the sound emanating from the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

This time you did hear it, and your heart almost missed a beat when next you heard your mother's sweet voice on the other side.

“Sweetie is that you?” she asked, carefully. 

Your mouth left Keigo’s who chased your lips stubbornly, and hearing your mother calling again halted his attack to snort under his breath, followed by a chuckle, as he playfully repeated.  “Sweetie, how cute~” 

Your palm slapped over his mouth to shut him up, and your gazes collided, his playful, yours irritated, this day couldn’t get any worse.  “Yes-Yes, mom, it’s me-e”

“Oh! Good, I’m so glad you are here—but why are you showering?” you could easily distinguish the wariness in your mother’s voice. 

“Eh-h.... UA’s dorm bathroom is out of order-…” you felt Keigo moving under you, the interruption had stopped all your ministrations, and his urgency was growing, “-so I came here-e... so I could take a bath and…” big hands cupped your breast, forcing you to swallow a loud moan, “and… besides-s, I already wanted to visit you~” you managed to stop one of his hands while your other was stuck on top of his mouth, you could feel his lips curling under it. “I took this chance. I hope it’s not a bother.”  You barely managed to finish the sentence, your hips going back to work in pump Keigo’s fat erection to keep him steady, and in control. That deaf grumble coming out of his chest told you it was working. 

"Of course not, Sweetie, we love that you're here," God!  Your mom sounded so happy and innocent that you really felt bad about the wicked acts you were participating in. 

"I'm going to start making dinner, tell me what would you like me to make? Yakisoba? Curry rice? Or maybe, Miso Chicken?” 

Keigo bite at your fingers lightly and surprise made you withdraw your hand, and without hesitation, his lips pressed against your ear.  “I want Miso chicken, it’s my favorite~” Keigo whispered, encouraged and your eyebrows knitted together in concern, and for some unknown reason for you, felt the need to air a sudden doubt, “—do you eat chicken?” 

The winged hero smiled brightly-even his eyes did, and you felt your heart miss a beat, your daze quickly cut by his answer. 

“It’s my favoriteeeeee~” he sing-sang, and your hand struggled to shut him up. Keigo was faster and was no doubt, enjoying every second of it.  “Come on, tell my mother-in-law to prepare that, or if you want, I’ll tell her—” your hand finally managed to muffle him, even so, he kept chuckling under it.

“Miso Chicken! I love when you make it.” You hurried to say, and your mom cutely giggle from the other side, “Then Miso it is-….do you fancy some special dessert?” Oh god!  You really loved how doting your mom was but right now, it was the last thing you needed. “Maybe you want Daifuki, cake, dango, yokan, cookies—" 

“A-Anything is fine, t-thank you.”  

The words came out tight thanks to Keigo licking the fingers covering his mouth, and in a swift motion hauled your hand up, letting your hand tangle among his wet mane to have sinful access to lasciviously devour your neck, taking his time to do things at his pace. Managing that his erection throbbed against your folds producing a deliriously pleasant rubbing, while his hands massaged the parts of your body he could reach, from your perked nipples to the side of your legs, taking him as far as to pull your calves and squeeze them between his fingers. His mouth focused on your neck, and his hips making a rhythmical swing that was taking both, hand in hand, towards a devastating orgasm. You felt already so sensitive, it was taking a toll on you to stay coherent.

“—Sweetie I was wondering…” 

“Mom!” you squeak louder than intended, “I’ll be out in a—”

But you couldn’t finish the sentence since you felt Keigo´s teeth dig into the muscle that connects your neck with your shoulder, followed by a low and menacing growl.

“Don’t talk back to your mother, baby bird…” He scolded lowly, all playfulness forgotten, “…If you insist on misbehaving, I will have to punish you.” The firmness with which he glared at you spoke of how serious he was being, and gulping hard, you sweetened your next reply. 

“Mommy, I’m almost done, as soon as I get out, I’ll go help you with dinner.”  

Keigo nodded, approvingly. A big enough smile twisting his lips and making him look immensely proud. He kissed the place where his teeth mark was shaping in your delicate skin and rewarded you further by holding gentler. “That’s my sweet and obedient mate.” He praised only for your ears, very pleased, pumping his thickness harder, this time it was you who had to bite down a groan. 

“Ok, sweetie, there’s no need, you take as long as you need, enjoy your bathe.” 

You no longer responded to this as your lip was trapped between your teeth, and you reduced yourself to listening to your mother walking downstairs. Once you heard that there was no one around, you let out the thick and glorious moan. Keigo chuckled, you were responding him very well, he was already close, just like you. 

“Cross your legs, baby bird- you´ll see how good it feels... go on, love- do it.” Keigo requested and you obeyed, the friction became undeniably more precise, his cock caressing your clit with each thrust, your eyes rolled back, and you felt a sharper brush of pleasure flood your body. Trembling on top of Keigo’s thighs he continued to ride you.

You felt something warm fall on your chest, and the rest splash into the water. Keigo moaned hoarsely against your hair, his breathing ragged and his heart racing as he came undone. Once both finished, your bodies relaxed, engrossed in each other, as you enjoyed the hot water and muscle relaxation.  

“Fuck, baby bird, your mom’s interruption turned me on more than it should have, I came a lot.”  Keigo said this while his fingers smeared the semen that had fallen on your chest, like a cream over your wet tits.  “I really like the way you look right now, give me a moment and I think I can go balls deep inside you, you know.... finish you off, properly.”

Keigo laughed a little, too pleased with how everything was developing. You on the other hand were on high alert, yet again.

He had just come, perhaps that wasn’t enough to calm him down, you didn’t want to have him inside you, not again, not ever.  Dammit!  If only there was a way to turn off his rut ​​instinct.  

BRING. ME. BACK.  

Your eyes widened at the blurry memory, Hawks had been with you before all this, Hawks had kissed you in a certain way and said these exact words.

Ignoring Keigo’s intrepid hands manipulating your body, the strong hero flipped you over until you were straddling his erect member, geez!  How could he be erect again?!  

“Calm down, I’ll take it from here-...”  His thick cock bumped against your swollen folds, bullying the entrance, your eyes squinted doing your best to remember the way Hawks teach you to bring him back.

“Here we go, smooth and easy, baby bird, don’t hold back—your mommy won’t hear us, I promise.”  The tip was already inside, but your effort paid off and you soon pulled Keigo’s face towards you. 

The Pro Hero let you, hanging his head stifling his short, outburst of arousal. And soon found that was being pulled down, hauled into the crook of your neck until his face was in front of yours and without saying a single word. 

You kissed him. Peppered the tip of his nose, next his left cheek, to follow with the right and finally the forehead. Sweet and chaste kisses that plunged him into a buried memory of his past, digging up Hawks from his hormonal brain.

You pulled away from his crotch, and not knowing if had worked, used your hand to try and finish him off before he could react sexually aggressive once more.

You pumped his shaft shyly through half-lidded eyes and growing bolder, worked him harder. You don’t know why, but it felt different this time… this time you had control over HIM, and it felt delicious, erotic, forbidden…to hold all power, all control of the Pro Hero number two inside your delicate grip.

You watched his mouth fall open, golden brows furrowing, heart hammering at a worrying pace, saw all the muscles on his body tense against you before the Hero number two spilled himself among your fevered fingers with a sharp gasp, chest heavily heaving. He shuddered with aftershocks, eyes closed, forehead glistening with beads of sweat and soapy water. 

Keigo must have been near the edge, super sensitive already, because it didn’t take you long to make him come. The semen floated through the water among the bubbles and suddenly you heard the voice you were looking forward to.

“Fuck, I´m SO sorry, kid.”

“Hawks...?” you murmured, not knowing who would answer… the Hero or the horny animal.

“It´s ME... and I'm not going away again, you are safe.” Hawks said, running his knuckles soothingly down the line of your jaw. “—I did all this?” 

His gaze followed the semen that floated in the water, golden orbs falling on your fingers smeared with his pearly essence, and without waiting for an answer, he submerged your hand in the water, cleaning each digit profusely among his strong fingers. 

“The commission is going to be pissed.” He said to himself, attention fixed on cleaning the remains of his semen from you. 

Feeling his back against the porcelain of the tub, Hawks realized something. "Where are my feathers?" he asked, a hint of alarm in his tone and you just shook your head, unable to answer.

"Fuck..." he muttered, a crooked embarrassed grin twisting his lips before finish. "I think we might have a problem."

COMING SOON PART 8....

⭕️ In this PATREON LINK you will find NSFW art of this story and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction (also JJK, Demon slayer, and Tokyo Revengers) .... Plus more fascinating rewards, check it out and if you got some extra bucks around, join our community. My eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e

[bambiiboop]

Oblivion { Joel Miller x Reader }

Summary: Joel bends you over and fucks you until you pass out. You’re into it. There’s no plot, it’s just smut.

CWs: established consent / choking / praise / dirty talk / use of “good girl” / no daddy kink this time / unsafe sex / rough sex / dom!Joel / aftercare

MDNI / 18+ ONLY

Tagging @dreamingofdaddydin & @joelsgirl 💜

Joel has you on all fours. It’s one of his favourite positions, because it really gives him a good sense of how much bigger than you he is.

You’re not sure what the fuck he was eating in the QZ, but he’s far more broad and strong than most men in Jackson. Hell of a lot better looking, too. And not that you know really, but you get the sense that he knows his way around a woman far better than most men, too.

Not that you can really think of anything right now beyond what he’s doing to you.

He’s so much bigger than you, easily caging your body with his whenever he pleases, which is often. He goes between draping himself over you and sitting up straight, depending on how he wants to look at you.

Presently it’s the latter; he has both hands on your waist, pulling your much smaller body back against his hips, slamming his cock into you without much care as to how rough he’s being.

He knows you can take it. Knows that if you couldn’t, you’d tell him. He’d stop if you asked, wouldn’t be remotely pissy about it or guilt trip you for it, no questions asked. But you’ve never once asked him to stop.

Begged for more? Absolutely. Demanded he be rougher? Also a yes. You’re open to pretty much everything and anything, as long as it’s with him.

Your hands - so fucking tiny, they look so small and delicate whenever they’re wrapped around him - are fisted into the rumpled bed sheets, like holding on will keep you from losing your mind entirely. It won’t. Not with the sounds he’s already dragging out of you, high pitched moans and mewls that sound sweeter than anything he ever heard in a porno or real life.

You’ve got your ass in the air, back arched down in just the right position for him to hit that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clit as he fucks you.

And still, somehow, it registers that he’s holding back on you. That’s not what you want. You want him to fuck you senseless, literally. Fuck you so dumb that you can’t speak, can’t think, left a drooling mess in his bed with his cum dripping out of you down your thighs.

“God dammit, Joel…” you wriggle yourself back onto him, earning yourself a slap on the ass for your trouble.

“What, sweetheart? Not hard enough for you?” He grunts as he slams into you, hard, forcing your body forward into the mattress with the momentum.

You squeal loudly at the force of it, letting him know that’s exactly what you wanted.

You don’t know where the fuck he got his stamina, but you love it. Know he’ll complain about his back hurting later, but that’s fine. You probably won’t be able to walk later, so it seems even enough.

He doesn’t slow down, one hand leaving your waist to snake up to curl around your throat, hard enough to cut your airflow. Not too tight, not dangerous, but tight enough that with the force of how hard he’s fucking you, the room starts to spin.

Joel knows you, though. Knows the telltale signs of your body about to hit its peak, grinding his enormous length into you hard enough to tip you over the edge. He releases your throat just as you start to cum, holding you up with one hand as you shake beneath him.

“Fuck, baby, you get so tight when you cum for me…”

You know; it feels so fucking good it hurts, feeling your comparatively tiny cunt fluttering around him as he fucks you through … fuck. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum for him tonight. Four? Five?

You’re getting to your breaking point, but you still won’t ask him to stop, won’t tap out. You don’t care what happens to you, how overstimulated you get. All that matters is him, the heat of his body against yours, the feeling of being so full of him, the rough praise of his deep voice as he fucks you.

“Such a good girl for me. Getting tired, darlin’? Want me to stop?” Joel knows the answer, taunts you anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

You almost hiss it over your shoulder at him, feel his cock throb inside you at the words.

It’s like you’ve awakened a whole new side to him; his hands are vicelike on your waist as he pounds into you, no longer trying to be remotely gentle after you’ve just climaxed.

Harder and faster, one hand twisting into your hair and pulling hard as he fucks into you. The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together, your mewls and whimpers, his increasingly louder groans and curses.

“Fuck, baby, could just stay buried in this tiny perfect pussy forever, just made for me, weren’t you?”

You can’t answer him, just scream for him instead, the only intelligible word that comes out is his name. You’re exhausted, your climax building again, closer and more uncontrollable this time.

He knows it, holds you as steady as he can as he feels you start to shake, your tiny body finally reaching breaking point as you come undone around him.

Your eyes roll back in your head, vision fading with the intensity of your climax, every nerve in your body on fire as you shake in his arms.

It’s not the first time he’s literally fucked you unconscious. The first time, he stopped, and when you woke up? You demanded to know why.

It’s a spoken rule now that he doesn’t stop. There’s something unbelievably fucking hot about waking up to him inside you.

Still, he slows, caresses your back, strokes your hair, being almost gentle with you now as you slowly start to come back to yourself.

“There you are… there’s my good girl… you doing okay, sweetheart?”

You blink a few times, open your eyes. He’s still inside you, thick and full and practically splitting you open. Perfect.

“Mm… Joel?”

“Yeah, baby?” He rocks his hips lazily.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

You can’t see the grin on his face as he keeps moving, chasing his own release now. He won’t admit it, because it feels a bit fucked up, but he likes that you trust him so much, likes how helpless you are when he fucks you into oblivion.

“Not gonna stop, darlin’. Gonna make myself cum now, pretty little pussy gonna make me cum…”

He’s been holding his own release back for god knows how long, edging himself just to get you to this point, but fuck if it isn’t worth it.

He’s comparatively gentle now as he chases his own release, still rough but less controlled, deep sloppy strokes that have him groaning as he bottoms out each time.

“Fuck, baby, so good for me…”

He punctuates the sentence with a long moan, the sort of sound you want to commit to memory because it’s so fucking sexy, but then he’s throbbing and pulsing inside you, filling your aching overstimulated cunt with hot, thick ropes of his seed, grinding deep before he pulls out, watches it drip out of you onto the sheets.

Finally, finally, you collapse onto the bed, eyes half closed, panting and whimpering. The bed creaks as he gets up; vaguely you’re aware of him coming back, a warm cloth between your thighs, cleaning you up.

Once or twice, you’ve both been too exhausted to move, but Joel likes to take care of you after. The mattress dips again and then he’s there behind you, pulling your exhausted body against the solid wall of muscle that is his chest, the slight softness of his stomach.

“Did so well for me, sweet girl. So proud of you.” He presses a kiss to your temple, strokes your hair.

“Sleep now. My perfect girl…”

You’re more than happy to let him rock you into oblivion, a small part of you hoping you’ll wake up to him inside you again.

[seraphinitegames]

I'm in love with the immersion, world-building, and characters of your writing. I can't help but gush about how talented you are with your you are as it's obvious how much love you put in your work.

The routes that I've been going through with my mc and his love interest between Adam and Mason was intriguing, funny and sometimes left me flustered and secretly yearing for more as although the difference between the two is like night and day, there is also a sense of familiarity the two of them share as well such as when it comes to the people they cherish and how they can react when they're threatened especially when it comes to the mc when picked as a love interest.

My favourite moments in the series would be from your most recent book, book three. I was pensive and aching to reach out towards Adam, as I wanted him to realize that it's okay to feel vulnerable every now and then, and that it doesn't make him weak as I desperately tried to reach out to him, and how when I was about to confess that I had fallen for Mason until Felix came out of nowhere, cockblocking me, which led me to furiously mutter under my breath and mind "GOD F@#*ING DAMMIT, FELIX!!"

My heart also ached for how much Sin was in pain who didn't want to hurt anyone but felt like he had to, resigned and trapped with no way out. I didn't hesitate to find any way to help him in anyway I could to free him. That's why near the end of the book I let him leave to live his life the way he wanted to. I couldn't stop imaging about giving him something to not just remind him of our budding friendship, but to also remind him to stay true to himself, and remind him that although he did do some terrible things, they don't define who he is, and that he has the right to been and feel happy as well when the guilt of his actions starts to consume him, whilst I'll also run and shout towards him when he flies of and leaves as I wave with a smile, "Goodbye! Stay safe!" I wonder how he'll react towards the mc doing this.

I can't wait for book four, as this time the stakes are dire, and the mc can even fall for the villian! I can't wait!!

Sorry for my ramblings, but I truly love the series that you've created and I cannot wait for what you have in store for us all. I hope you have a wonderful day. 😊😊

Aah, what an incredible message! I honestly cannot even begin to tell you how much it means to me to read this! <3

It's interesting you saying about the similarities of A and M—It's kind of why it's always fun writing them when they end up paired off for a mission or something.

M is very honest with A (as can be seen with that rather cutting statement by a BFF M to a romanced A at the end of Book Three! But A kind of…gets M in some ways more than the others un Unit Bravo, and it's the same for M. They both know how in pain they are—emotionally or physically—and there's a very deep understanding and bond between them because of that.

I could go on about the unique bonds between each member of UB forever, so I'll stop not before it turns into an essay, hehe! :D

But yeah, I think Sin would love to hear that from the MC. No one has ever looked out for him or cared to before, so having someone they barely know do that for him would make a very big impact—and it does depending on your ending with him!

Thank you so so much for your wonderfully motivating message! <3

[kpop---scenarios]

Compromised (5)

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Warning: Betrayal...

Word Count: 1.5k

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @stanskzot8 @jisunglyricist @bangchannie97lov @armystay89 @machaandlofi

@silly250 @tsunderelino @1810cl @neyangi @gloriajovicc

Previous Chapters

Later in the day you ended up in the living room surrounded by 8 men, Chan included as you're interrogated about what you did to Jopok, or what you could possibly know about them.

“Y/N, dammit. I need you to think a little fucking harder.” one of Chan's guys yells. You're pretty sure his name is Hyunjin. And even though Hyunjin was extremely attractive, as they all were, you needed him to be a little nicer to you. This shit was traumatic.

“I'm sorry, my brain is fried. I'm exhausted, I'm shaken up and I'm scared. You might be used to all of this shit, but I am not used to having guns shoved in my face and bullets flying around all willy nilly.” You snap.

Han and Changbin burst out laughing. You can't help but smile at Han stomping his feet as he smacks Changbin, them both laughing and leaning into each other.

“Focus.” Hyunjin snaps at the two. “Has anyone new come up to you in the last few months? Spoken to you? Anything?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, nothing. I've been with Chan for the most part, and if I'm not I'm at home, or work.” You sigh.

“What do you do for work?” He asks.

“Legal assistant.”

“Have you had any Jopok cases?” Chan asks, rubbing your arm. You don't pull away from him like you knew you should. You were confused by everything that was going on with him but he was your one comfort currently and you needed that and despite everything, you still trusted him.

“I don't know anyone there.” You sigh. “It's not like there's ‘Jopok Case��� written on any of the documents.”

“For fuck sakes.” Hyunjin snaps. “You want our help, you're going to need to think a little fucking harder here Y/N.”

“Hey!” Chan yells, standing up, partially standing in front of you. “She's trying her best. She's fucking scared, give her some god damn time.”

Hyunjin throws his hands in the air, muttering some hurtful words as he storms out of the room.

“Look, I'm gonna go out, do some rounds and see what I can find out.” Chan announces, standing up.

“Chan.” You say, grabbing onto his wrist. “Please don't go.” You whisper.

“Don't worry baby, I'll be safe.” He smiles, pressing a small kiss to your lips. “They'll take care of you, promise.”

Chan walks away and out the door, leaving you with six men you barely know, but before you can say anything, Hyunjin comes back into the room, looking around at everyone, but avoiding eye contact with you.

“Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, and Minho come with me. Han and Jeongin, you two watch over the girl.” He says, motioning for the other ones to follow him. The rest get up, leaving you with Han and Jeongin, who are looking at each other, nodding before looking back at you.

“I gotta take this phone call.” Jeongin smiles, walking out of the room.

“I'm sorry about Hyunjin.” Han says, giving you a half smile. “He can be really intense sometimes.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle. “I noticed that. I'm sorry I wasn't more help… this has all just been…” You pause. “Alot.”

“I can imagine.” Han chuckles, looking past you for a split second before he looks back at you. “Do you want to take a walk? I can show you a spot I go to try and decompress after a tough day.” He suggests.

“Honestly, that sounds great.” You smile, getting up to follow Han. As the two of you walk towards the front door, Jeongin joins the two of you, walking behind you and following you out the door.

“Such a beautiful property.” You murmur looking around as the three of you walk towards the woods.

“It is. No one is around for miles.” Jeongin says. Your stomach turns as the little voice in your head tells you to stop and turn back.

“I um, I need to use the bathroom.” You say, stopping in your tracks.

“It's just right up here.” Han says, pointing into the woods.

“Maybe later, I really have to go.” You say, turning around. You start to walk away when you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Stop.” Jeongin snaps. He turns you around, facing you towards the woods, where you see four masked men walk out onto the grass, all of them pointing guns at you.

“What… what's going on?” You ask.

“Jopok is looking for you. You can't run from them, Y/N.” Jeongin says. He leans into you, his lips close to your ear. “This was our way in. It's nothing personal.” He smiles, standing back up. He looks at two of the men, harshly pushing you towards them, making you fall to the ground.

“Take her.” Jeongin says. “Han, let's go.”

Two of the four men grab you, dragging you back into the woods as you try to fight, try to scream and plead for Jeongin or Han to help you but you're dragged further and further into the woods while you watch Han and Jeongin walk back towards the house, completely ignoring your pleas for help.

**

“Y/N, baby?” Chan calls out, checking the living room right as he walks into the house. The other men return home mere minutes after him, watching him go from room to room trying to find you.

“Did you find anything out?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yeah, just let me find Y/N first.” He says, walking towards the stairs to check his own room.

“She's not up there.” Han sighs, walking into the living room.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Chan snaps.

“She was scared. She got into her own head and said she was going home.” Han sighs.

“We tried to stop her, Chan. We really did. But she said she didn't trust you anymore… you weren't the man she fell for and she needed to go.” Jeongin pipes up.

“I tried to reason with her but she wouldn't listen. She made up her mind and said that she had to go.” Han explains.

“I have to find her. She's not fucking safe!” Chan yells, rushing towards the door.

“Yo, Chan, you can't risk being found out!” Han says, walking towards Chan. “Let us go to her apartment. Text me the address and if she's there we'll bring her back.”

“You couldn't even get her to stay!” Chan yells. “How can you get her back?”

“We'll figure it out. I promise, We'll do our best to find her.” Jeongin smiles, patting Chan on the shoulder. He sinks to the floor, holding his head in his hands and Jeongin and Han walk away.

“Please. Please bring her back.” He murmurs. Jeongin and Han walk away from his pleas, just like they did yours.

**

“The fuck are we gonna tell him?” Jeongin murmurs, walking through your empty apartment, going through your things, looking in all your cupboards and drawers as they kill time.

“We can't tell him Jokpok has her, he'll go after them.” Han sighs. “We'll tell him that she wasn't here when we got here. That there were clothes thrown all around and it looked like she packed a bag and left town?” He suggests.

“That's good. Yeah, that might work.” Jeongin laughs. “He can't find out about this.”

“No, at least not until the switch is complete. We need the protection of the Jopok before he can find out or they'll all fucking kill us.” Han says.

“No matter what.” Jeongin starts. “No one can know we gave Y/N to them.”

“Agreed.”

A few hours later, the two men walked back into the house and walked into the living room where Chan sat as he impatiently waited for his two, what he considered brothers, to walk in.

“Where is she!?” He yells, getting off the couch.

“There were clothes all over the place. Empty drawers… Empty cupboards… it looks like she took off.” Jeongin sighs.

“Maybe it's for the best?” Han suggests.

“How the fuck is that for the best?” Chan snaps. “She has no idea what or who she's running from. She cant fucking protect herself! Tell me, how the fuck is that the better option?”

“It's not. What the fuck, Han?” Felix snaps. “We'll find her.”

“We better. She'll die if they catch her.”

**

“Someone!” You cry out. “Please! Someone help me!” Your arms are tied tightly behind your back, your ankles tied tightly together. You were panicking, rightfully so as you tried to come up with some sort of possible solution to get the fuck out of there.

Your face burned from the hits you had gotten while trying to fight some of them off earlier. You tried your fucking hardest to get out of the almost inhuman grip that had on your body but you were exhausted. You just wanted to go home. You wanted Chan. You needed him to find out you were here, you needed him to come save you. He would do that, right?

“I don't know anything!” You scream, tears streaming down your face. “Just let me out!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Someone screams from outside the locked door. You can hear the deadbolt click before the door opens, in walking a familiar man.

You gasp as he walks in, his hands in his pockets.

“It's you?”

[gamergirl-niffler]

Taking Care of Haganezuka's Injuries - headcanons

Requested by: @zero-sugar-null

Being a swordsmith's wife is a little difficult, but being Haganezuka's s/o is a whole different story.

He not only gets angry easily but also gets hurt just as easily and of course you are the one to take care of him.

‌Any kind of bruises or cuts annoy him even more than anything else. 

Not because they hurt.... Because they interrupt his work!

"God dammit!" Loud, angry voice fill the forge as a not yet finished sword is thrown across the room. "It's not perfect. I will have to start from the beginning," Haganezuka mutters and suddenly stops at the uncomfortable feeling in his palms. After taking one look at his hands, he can tell what was wrong. He didn't even notice the cuts at first, but they indeed were there. 

So it was time to see you.

‌He is snappy when someone else is offering help.

True. Most smiths hate his guts but still he is one of them, so offering help is something normal, but Hotaru truly hates it!

"Hanganezuka? Maybe you need help?" Someone asks.

"NO! Leave me alone!” He growls in return.

Who the hell they think they are to suddenly offer him help?! Are they looking down on him? That's some kind of joke.

He doesn't need it... Not from them at least. After all he has you.

Any other attempt of helping him ends with an argument. In the end, other smiths stop even trying. 

You are the first and only person he comes to.

At this point, you are pretty used to your husband returning home with his hands hurt in one way or another. Yet it still somehow gets you off guard when in the middle of the day the door suddenly bursts open, and you see a big man in a weird mask while you simply try to enjoy your tea and a day off!

Him showing up isn’t unusual, but after years with him, you know what it means. You put away your nice, hot tea and get up to get the stuff.

‌He doesn't wince or whine. 

Hotaru is just watching you, maybe frowning once in a while, but you don’t really know because of the mask. He doesn't like how it feels when you take care of his injuries, the burning sensation isn’t his favorite, but your touch is great compensation for the moments of pain. 

It soothes the discomfort and immediately makes him feel much better.

Hotaru ALWAYS thanks you.

Each and every time you do this for him, no matter how many times and for how many years. It's a really simple, polite gesture, but it's important for him. 

He is fully aware he isn't the best pick for a husband, yet you picked him for some reason, so it would be only fair to show you how grateful he is.

"Thank you," he says after raising his mask to place a kiss on your forehead and then cheek. 

Hotaru often thanks God for the mask, because your sweet reaction makes even this angry man blush. 

‌Sometimes you scold him.

You understand his craft is important to him, but some days he takes it too far. Getting his hands all cut and bloody, you can't pat him on the head for that!

"How can you do this to yourself? Love, I admire your work and dedication, but you can't keep it up."

He scoffs at your words. "Someone has to make sure you slayers won't fight with bare hands."

"I know that and thank you for this but working so hard is stupid."

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?!” Hotaru quickly gets defensive.

Scolding sometimes turns into heated arguments between the two of you... Ups...

LET'S REVERSE STUFF A LITTLE

You are a demon slayer, so you make sure the village as well as smiths in it are safe. What means: going against demons, what means: sometimes you get hurt.

‌ Information of you getting hurt is one of few things that pull him away from work.

Yes, he is always deep in his work, but the simple mention of you getting hurt makes him drop everything. He needs to know how bad it is? Are you alive? 

So he drops whatever he is doing (even if it means starting from the beginning again) and goes to see you.

‌If it's possible, he helps you himself. 

Haganezuka isn't a master of taking care of others. It's hard for him, but he watched you work so many times, so he follows exactly those patterns. 

He cleans your wounds and wraps them carefully, just like you do with him. 

Also get ready for a kiss on every wound you have, after all kisses make it all better, right?

‌If it's not possible, he entrusts you to a person who knows what to do.

But this process is full of yelling and threats. 

"You better take good care of her! Or I will deal with you myself! She is my wife, remember that!” 

Sometimes even other smiths must hold him in place for the safety of others.

‌He scolds you as well.

That's another thing you should get ready for. Hotaru is your worried husband, so he has a right to do so when his wife isn’t careful enough.

Right after sweet kisses, he will scold you for getting hurt.

"How could you be so stupid!,” He mutters, annoyed. "You should be more careful. You're a demon slayer, not some child with too sharp toy! Being careful should be your priority!"

"B-But..." You try to argue, but you are quickly cut off by him.

"NO BUTS, Y/N,” He snaps at you. "You need to remember about your own safety. Keep other slayers and villagers safe but remember about your own safety too!"

You just sit there and listen, nodding from time to time. It's obvious your husband is worried, and you won’t argue with that. It was understandable, you do the same when it comes to him.

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

In the end, you care about him deeply, and he cares about you even deeper. Each of you try to keep the other safe and provide help and/or comfort whenever it's needed. 

It's just a simple proof of how much you love each other, and neither of you is going to complain. 

Both of you love it so much, actually.

[winchesterwild78]

Taking Care of Each Other

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader 

Warnings: Dean and his silly walls (yes that’s a warning), Smut!, unprotected sex (cover it up people), aftercare 

A/N: Last anon request for what aftercare would look like between Dean and the reader. I’m using the character, Dean, but this does not follow the Supernatural story at all. No disrespect to anyone, this is a work of fiction. All work is my own. I do not give permission for it to be taken. This was written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Dean Winchester, the green eyed man that rolls through town every few months for his job that he can’t tell you about. All he says is it’s “the family business” and his brother, Sam and him took it over when their father died. 

You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him the first time you met him, but one thing led to another and let’s be honest, how could anyone say no to him. He was built like he was carved by the gods and he was a very skilled lover. He took you places in the bed you’d never been and he always made you feel like you were the only woman in his life.

You were sure that wasn’t the case, but it was nice to think you were. Even if it was only for a few days. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You heard the familiar voice behind you. You turned around and came face to face with Dean Winchester. “Hey, Dean. Good to see you”, you turned to fill the coffee of another customer. 

You felt his eyes on you the whole time you helped customers. You came back to his table to take his order. “Do you want your usual, Dean? Cheeseburger, fries, drink and a slice of cherry pie?” He touched your arm “You know me so well, sweetheart.” You pulled away. “I’ll put your order in, Dean. Sammy not joining you to eat?” 

“No, Sam didn’t come with me on this trip. Is everything okay, you don’t normally pull away from me.” “Yes, I’m just busy, Dean. We all can’t be our own boss.” You didn’t mean to sound snippy, but you were tired of the yoyo relationship with him. 

He sat back and watched you working. He loved watching you work and interact with people. That’s what drew him to you, your sweet personality and your kindness. He often thought about you on his hunts. Dean wanted to tell you about his life and what he did, but he needed to keep you safe.

Dean’s order was ready so you grabbed it from the window and walked it over to him. “Here’s your order, Dean. Let me know if you need anything else.” Dean looked at you “Thank you, Y/N. Um, what time do you get off?” “I get off in about an hour, why?” “Well, I was hoping we could talk.” “Talk?!? Ha! I didn’t know the great Dean Winchester knew how to talk with his clothes on.” 

“Wow, okay. Sorry I asked. I’ll eat and be out of your hair.” Dean looked defeated. You walked away and your heart broke. Why did you talk to him like that? He didn’t deserve it. You walked around the diner helping other customers, but your eyes kept looking over at Dean. He’d barely touched his food. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest.

Once your tables were cleared you walked over to Dean and sat across from him. “Dean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. It’s unfair and just mean. If I’m being honest I’m just hurt. I feel like our relationship is just a convenience for you when you’re in town. I don’t know anything about your job, and you keep all these walls up. I care about you. If I’m being completely honest, I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s green eyes looked up at you and he took your hand. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. My life is hard and I just wanted to protect you from it. I care about you too. You’re not just a convenience for me.” 

“Dean, then please trust me enough to tell me about your life. I want to know all about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’d give up everything to be with you. I know you have walls up, but dammit, Dean I’m going to break them down if it’s the last thing I do.” Dean smirked. “I know you will, darlin’. How about after you get off we go back to your place and talk. If you want to.” “Dean, I’d love to.”

About 2 hours later you were pulling into your driveway with Dean behind you in the Impala. Dean climbed out of the car looking sexy as ever. You bit your lip. You shook your head, No! Stop it. You can’t end up in bed with him. You’re here to talk.  

Dean walked up and looked around. “The house looks great, sweetheart.” “Thanks, Dean. I’ve tried to keep it up. I just finished remodeling the inside. Shall we go in?” Dean shook his head yes. 

Once inside your dog, Tilly came bounding up to Dean. She always loved him and was excited to see him. Dean sat on the couch and Tilly jumped up and licked him while wagging her tail. He laughed as she covered him with licks. You loved his laugh. 

“Dean, I’m going to go change. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  “Okay, Tilly and I will be here waiting.” “You can grab a beer if you want.” Dean nodded and you turned to head towards your room.

Dean stood up and walked around looking around at how things had changed since he was last there. “Looks good, Tilly. She’s been busy.” Tilly wagged her tail at Dean. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. As he sat down on the couch, you came back into the living room with an oversized shirt and shorts on. Dean smirked, he realized the shirt you were wearing was one of his. 

“What’s so funny, Winchester?” “Oh nothing, just that shirt was mine.” You looked down and blushed. “Well, I like it. It’s comfortable.” You and Dean stared at each other for a few minutes. You felt yourself leaning in. Tilly jumped up and you cleared your throat. 

“So, Dean, what did you want to talk about?” You asked softly. Dean shifted on the couch and turned towards you. “Sweetheart, I wanted to talk about us. You know my job takes me all over the country. It’s dangerous and has cost me people I love. I’ve tried to keep you out of it to protect you. I wouldn’t survive if something happened to you too. He took a deep breath and let it out. Sammy and I hunt things, monsters and other bad things. All of it is real, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, you name it. We cross the country protecting people and helping families that are in danger.” Dean placed his hand on your face, running his thumb over your cheek. “You mean too much to me. I meant it when I told you that you were the only one I’ve been with since we met. I think about you when I’m gone and can’t wait to see you again.”

“Sammy didn’t come with me this time because I asked him to stay at the bunker. I wanted to come and talk to you. I’m not here on a job.” You sat on the couch staring at Dean trying to take in everything he told you. “So, monsters are real, and you go around the country killing them? You’ve been doing this since you were little? Oh my god Dean. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that.” 

“Hey, Y/N, I’m fine. It just made me tougher.” You took your hand and placed it gently on Dean’s face. “It’s still not right. I’m sure your dad did the best he could, but you deserve so much more.” You leaned close, stopping halfway hoping he would move the rest of the way. Dean looked in your eyes and moved towards you. 

He placed a soft kiss on your lips and you kissed him back. Dean’s tongue swiped your lips asking for entrance. You opened your mouth slightly and Dean deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth and more when you felt his hands trailing up your body.

Dean loved to touch you and be close to you. After what he told you about his childhood and life, you realized he craved touch because he was so touch starved. It made your heart hurt for him.  

His hands played with the hem of your shirt and you pulled out of the kiss long enough to remove your shirt. Dean bit his lip when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. “Damn baby, just as beautiful as ever.” 

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands trailed up your body from your hips to your breasts. His calloused hands slowly cupped your breasts and you moaned. Dean took his left thumb and index finger and squeezed your left nipple, while he took your right one in his mouth. He started sucking. Pulling a loud moan from your lips as your head leaned back.

He smirked around your nipple. Dean knew all the spots that drove you wild. You knew how to drive him wild too. 

Feeling the slick pool between your thighs you knew you wanted Dean. Through the thin material of the shorts you had on, you could feel Dean’s hardness through his jeans. You moved your body down into his erection. Causing a growl to come from his lips. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” You looked in his eyes, now dark green with lust. You bit your lip and pulled him in for a deep kiss.Your walls clenched. Between pants you pulled back “Dean, take me to the bedroom, please.” “Are you sure, sweetheart?” “Yes, Dean. I want you.”

Dean picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed gently before closing the door with his foot. Dean removed his shoes and shirt, and slid his jeans down looking directly in your eyes. 

He drove you wild when he did that. He knew it too. You groaned and leaned your head back, Dean chuckled. He made his way to the bed and hovered over you, kissing your lips. His lips trailed down your neck, biting your pulse point making you moan. Dean continued kissing down your body until he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you through his eyelashes.

He was asking for permission to remove them. You nodded yes and he hooked his fingers and pulled them down with your panties. You lifted your hips to help him. Dean threw your clothes to the side and kissed his way up your thigh. He used his hands to gently part your legs. Exposing your dripping wet core to him. 

You could see his hardness through his boxers. You both looked at each other with lust and love in your eyes. Dean slid off his boxers and his hardness sprang free. You huffed out a shaky breath. Dean was the biggest you’d ever had. He filled you and made you feel things you hadn’t before. 

As he climbed between your legs his hand slid up your thigh. He used his right hand to part your folds, feeling your wetness and need. You bucked your hips into his hand and moaned. “Please, Dean.” “Patience sweetheart.” He purred in your ear. 

You felt his fingers dip into your wet pussy and his thumb rub circles on your swollen clit. Dean moved his fingers and thumb faster, helping you chase your much needed release. You moved your hips into his hand. You were close. Faster than you thought you’d get there. “Dean…I’m….close.” Your breath hitched

“I know baby, cum for me. Come on, let it all go.” Dean whispered. With a deep moan you came hard, squeezing his fingers and releasing your juices. Dean pulled out his fingers and leaned up, capturing your lips. “You ready, baby?” Dean asked as he lined himself up to you. You nodded yes. 

Dean pumped himself a few times and placed the tip at your entrance. As he pushed in you both gasped and moaned. It had been far too long since you two had been together. He pushed the rest of the way in bottoming out. Dean stilled himself for a minute, trying to compose himself. 

He didn’t want to cum too fast, but you felt amazing wrapped around him. Dean’s movements were slow and meticulous. He was savoring every second he had you in his arms. His lips found yours as he slowly moved in and out of you. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair. The sound of moans and pants of pleasure filled the room. 

You’d slept with Dean many times before, but this time felt different. Something had shifted between you two once he told you about his life. 

With every touch and kiss you felt Dean’s walls coming down. His eyes filled with so much love and relief. Dean’s head rested in the crook of your neck as he slowly moved in you. His hot breath on your body sent chills down your spine. Your hands traced up and down his back, feeling how his muscles moved. 

Your resolve was wearing down. You didn’t want to fall deeper in love with him, because you didn’t want to be hurt, but you couldn’t help it. In a breathy voice you whispered “I love you, Dean. So much.” Dean stilled and looked in your eyes. He softly kissed your lips and said “I love you too, sweetheart.”

This was the first time he’d ever said it to you. Usually he said he cared about you or you meant a lot to him, but he never said ‘love’. As Dean got closer to his release, he sped up a little. With one final thrust he spilled his hot seed deep inside you. Coating your walls with white ropes of cum. 

He slowly pulled out as he felt himself softening and got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned he brought a warm washcloth to clean you up. Dean cleaned you gently, leaned up and kissed your lips before leaving the room. 

When he returned he had brought you water. Handing you the water, he grabbed the sheet and covered you both up as he crawled in next to you. When you placed the cup down, he held out his arm for you to lay on. 

Dean pulled you close to him and you laid your head on his chest, delicately tracing his tattoo with your finger tips. He kissed the top of your head “I do love you Y/N, so much. I’ve been a fool. I should have told you a long time ago.” You looked up at him “Shh, it’s okay baby, you told me and that’s all that matters.” 

Dean smiled and kissed your lips. “Hey, move in with me. Move in with me and Sammy.” You sat up “What?! You want me to move in with you?” “Yes! That way I don’t have to be away from you. You can have your own room if you want or we can share my room. What do you say?” You looked at Dean’s face so full of love and eagerness, “Yes. Yes, Dean I’ll move in with you.” 

He smiled and captured your lips with his. You laid your head back down on his chest and he pulled you tighter. Being with Dean was always amazing, but afterwards was your favorite part. It’s when Dean’s softer side really showed. He always made sure you were taken care of and felt safe. He loved holding you and would trace patterns on your back. At first you thought it was random movements, then you realized he was actually writing his name with his finger tips. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever experienced. 

Moving in together was a huge step for you too, but you knew you would always take care of each other. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

look Hal, as much as I fucking DESPISE soap’s death.. i am in need of a fic where price delivers his wife his tags. pls, i need to be hurt again by you 🥲🥲🥲 (ik reqs are closed honestly im just hoping to put an idea in your head fjfhsjfh sorry)

A short drabble to make your pain worse, dear anon:

You stare blankly at the finely dressed man on the doorstep, a black leather box in his hands.

It isn’t a stare that can be defined on any level of emotion—nothing shown on a face in a time such as this can be. Some instances transcend any known sense and logic; all perceived ability to understand leaks out of a brain like water in a blown dam. 

There wasn’t an explanation for this. 

John looked on, and he started to speak as if you’d never known each other. As if your Johnny hadn't had him and the rest over for your engagement party—as if he hadn’t watched you pour him tea and smile softly in thanks as Johnny’s arm snaked around your shoulders. 

“On behalf of the 23rd Regiment of the Special Air Service,” you don’t even blink. “I, Captain John Price of the 22nd, offer my—”

“Stop.” Your voice is shaky, and your hands are clammy on the door knob. The man can’t look at you. He clears his throat, blue eyes blinking at you; so similar to Johnny’s and yet never the same at all. 

“...My deepest condolences—”

“John!” Your voice moves in a sharp yell, taking a single step forward. “Stop it!”

A heavy silence falls like a hammer. 

Your lips open and close, stuttering. Where were the words? What could you say? The tightness of your chest crashes down on you; a cinder block of ruthless realization. 

Your husband was never coming home. 

Hand snapping up to your mouth, you stifle a loud sob that rips through your lungs, shoulders hunching in. 

“Where is he?” You gasp, tears flying down your face. “John, dammit, where is he?!”

For once in your life, of all the times you’d spoken to him, the Captain had no answer. Blue eyes stay stuck on you, box outstretched on hands that you see quiver for a moment—a clench of his bearded jaw and a movement of his head to the side. 

Like some cruel joke, you laugh through the bouts of sobs, unbelieving.

“John,” you plead, barely able to see or get the words out. “Please tell me where he is. He has to come back home to me. John,” you move forward, grasping his shoulder, digging your nails in as if to wrench soil out of a burial plot. It’s frantic how you speak—all gasps and desperate whines to a God who isn’t listening to you. “I need him. H-he promised me he would come back. I-I…” You struggle to breathe.

“Love,” John grits out, forcing his tongue to move. His eyes are pained, but never, never as much as yours are. It’s said on a low and defeated breath. “I couldn’t save him.”

You collapse as his arm, which snaps to circle you and tries to keep you up as you wail in agony. Tears stain John’s uniform and the neighbors come outside at the ruckus of a woman who just had her heart ripped out with a rusted knife. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, throat tight. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”

But you can’t answer, because the only thing you have left of Johnny are pieces of blood-splattered metal and memories. 

And one day, you’d forget the sound of his voice—the way he touched you; how it felt to be kissed and held and loved so fiercely as if on fire. A blaze of devotion, yourself covered in gasoline; eager to be burned by a man you’d skin yourself for only three more minutes with, if that was all that could be spared. 

You plead for it in John’s arms—scream for it. Three more minutes. Three more seconds. 

If not that, then just three last kisses.

Johnny was dead, and everyone, especially the man trying to keep you from hitting the ground; taking the hits you lay on his arm numbly, knew that you had died with him.

The tags of a man long past glint in the setting sun.

[daisiescomelate]

Hi hi are u taking requests rn ignore this if your not but can u maybe write some sukuna angst maybe him and y/n getting into huge fight but making up in the end?? Love ur works thank uuu

Much love ❤️

-Anon🥢

Bam. You slammed the door close behind you and entered the livingroom area.

Sukuna was standing barefoot in front of the sink doing the dishes. He didn't turn to greet you and you mimic his silence as you walked to the couch with your phone in your hand.

You sat down, the gelid atmosphere of the room contrasting with the boiling anger in your system. The only thing that could be heard was the clinging of the dishes and the tap water running, or that was until Sukuna completed his task and turned it off.

You didn't look up to see what he was going to do next, rather focus all your attention on your phone screen where scrolling had become an anxious tic.

Moments later you saw him at the edge of your vision waking to a spot in a nearby chair opposite to you, and then heard the sound of his weight falling over the cushions.

It had all started a week ago because of a silly misunderstanding that you already struggled to remember. Yet because of the stubborn personality you both shared, the embers had grown into a hellfire. And by now what kept the problem going could only be blamed into you both bull-headedness and your unwillingness to say sorry.

The buzzing of the fridge added some mention to the air and one of the lamp lights flickered as if stuttering at the animosity in the living room.

One minute passed, the five.

Sukuna stood from his place on the chair, walked to the fridge and returned with a can of beer.

Then silence.

Except for the tapping on your phone and the sipping of his beer.

And the buzzing of the lights.

"What are you doing?" Came the sudden question.

"Nothing." You answered. And you regretted it.

It had been a week already of both of you walking on your toes around the other and you were getting tired of it. You missed Sukuna, you missed him holding you at night, you missed his bitting comments and you missed his smiles and sneers.

And you were also getting scared, because one week was a hell of a time, and you worried about this to become a turning point.

An infected that would scab and turn into a scar.

And yet you weren't able to make the first step because of your stupid pride.

God dammit, you cursed yourself. Why is it so hard for you to swallow your pride and do this one thing? Was really losing Sukuna worth your pride?

The rhythmic sound of drops over the sink and the creaking of the leader of the sofa put your nerves on edge. Then suddenly,

"I--"

"I--", you both said at the same time.

"Let me go first," he said.

"No, wait--"

"I don't--"

You both fell into silence, your words stamping on each other.

You sighted,

"You know what?" You said, "Let's just say it at the same time."

"I'm sorry," Sukuna hurried to answer, and you became tongue tied because of the look in his eyes.

He looked... defeated. It was a strange look to see on him.

"I don't even remember what we were fighting about but I don't want things to be like this anymore," he said while staring at the floor as if the effort to look into your eyes --to show himself bare and --to took an amount of strength he didn't have.

Your eyes pricked with tears and you felt like an idiot. You patted the spot next to you on the couch,

"You want to come here with me?" You asked and soon enough he stood up and walked the distance that separated you. He fell on the couch and turned his arms around you in one swift motion.

Your heart hurts with a new kind of pain when you realize you haven't had an actual idea of how much you missed being in his arms, safe and warm.

You returned the gesture by wrapping your arms around him and letting yourself melt in his embrace. You felt him planting a kiss at the top of your head.

"I'm sorry too," you said, and even if there weren't tears falling down your cheeks, you could feel them at the back of your throat. "I don't remember why we were fighting either."

Sukuna's chest shook and you realized he must be laughing at your confession.

"We're just too stubborn, love. Let's not let this happen again."

You silently agreed with a nod of your head, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, you let your heart to rest.