#it’s the drying off i really don’t like

[tonycries]

TALKIN' BOOODY!

Synopsis. The one thing he won’t survive? Your ovuIation.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, MARATHONS, cervíx kíssing, d��mbification, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, bréeding, creampíes, true form Sukuna, dp, talking you through it, jeaIous s (Sukuna), cúmplay, cúmming dry, use of powers, spítting, chokíng, matíng presses, p talking, p sIapping, reader ovuIates, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Love Machine.

Toji Fushiguro never thought he’d meet his match - he never thought he’d end up like this. 

Toned chest panting - heaving - in pathetic huffs and puffs, muscular thighs quivering with every second he folded you like a lawnchair into such a mean standing nelson. It’s all he can do to snarl out mere husked gurgles, “O-ovulation? Hah- five rounds n’ you still think she’s a match against me, doll?”

Lies. And both of you knew it.

The man himself can only watch through hooded eyes when you’re squirming your greedy hips back and forth for more more more- “But Toooji– when m’ovulating I really want a hah...a baby.” 

Oh.

Oh.

And Toji doesn’t know whether it’s your words or the mere sultry sound of your voice that makes his tall, powerful body shiver. 

“So what?” He’s spitting through clenched teeth, you yelp when Toji wastes no time jostling you into such a pliable position against his glissading abs. Big, beefy biceps flexing when he smears your thighs widely agape, “Then m’just gonna give ya a baby, ma.”

But fuck, is Toji cursing back his words the very moment his geysering divot slides past your spongy cervix and probes a deep indent right against the door to your womb. 

Because you feel so unfairly good - so scorching hot n’ melty all around him - that he can’t help but furrow his sweat-slicked brows and pump his hips vulgarly sloppier into yours. Faster. Harder. 

He oh-so-badly wants to cum. Needs to prove it.

But the way his feverish skin breaks out in another sweaty varnish, the way his overused cock twinges with overstimulation leave him wondering if he still can. Parting his mazing length past all the ribbony excess of seed from earlier tonight to milk himself fucking dry if he has to.

“Gonna b-be eating your words.” He’s seething cockily, heftily bloated tip blushing the exact same strawberry-pink shade as his pretty flush right now. “Swear m’gonna make ya- oh god.”

And whatever sentence rambling pussydrunkenly off of Toji’s filthy tongue never sees the light of day - because what he sees makes his throat tighten. 

Dipping down one fat thumb of his to circle the cream-topped peak of your sensitive clit, Toji pries apart your adhesive-like walls until he can take a long, hard look at the way your slippery entrance was swallowing every solid inch of him.

“Look at you.” He’s murmuring out, and your heart stutters at the primal adoration that laces his words. Round, padded fingertips pap! pap! papping! the edge of your throbbing clit until steady globs of cum from just before slip out of your needy entrance. “Got s-so much you’re overspilling n’ you still want more.”

You’re craning your head to look up at him, lashes fluttering following each of his vicious rams. “Can’t help it- I just feel so…”

You don’t have to talk - because your slobbering cunt does all of it for you.

A resounding squelch! ringing into your ears and all across Toji’s cottony mind in an utterly sensual manner. 

“Damn, girl-” you hear from above you. And he wastes no time slathering those bulky digits in a saccharine coating of all your sap, “-n’ I thought hngh- you were needy. Turns out this cute cunt is a fuckin’ diiirty girl.”

But, of course, who was Toji Fushiguro to not give you anything and everything you wanted? You were his girl, after all - and your eyes widen when those very same drippingly wet fingers are pushed between your sodden folds with a waterlogged fwop!

“S’this ‘nough for my ovulating girl?” Toji’s rolling his willowy eyes, hasty streaks of sweat running down the side of his face. “Speak up- ”

“Yes- fuck!” You’re clawing your nails down his firm forearms to rake red, red lines that match his puffed-up veins. Thumping hotly against your skin to the same ba-dump–! as the ones on his girthy shaft, grazing your clingy walls and molding them out generously to his size. “Need you to cum in m-me Toji– need it-”

Fuck- Toji’s knees weaken precariously at your words. Hollowed breaths coming out infinitely more strained, “Where- where do you want me?”

He thinks he’s going fucking insane. 

But of course, you’re showing it all off for him. Of course, you’re letting your index drag from the middle of your tummy to secure right where he was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. Just millimeters away from where the rotund bulge of his crownhead was pressing innocent pecks on your womb-

“Here.”

And when Toji cums he’s losing all strength - he’s out of control. “Fine- fine. But you’re takin’ every l-last drop- fuck! Everythin’ because you b-better make me a hngh- daddy all over again, doll.” 

Not even every ounce of superhuman strength from his heavenly restriction could keep him standing upright. Hunching over into your body, you feel like you’re being crushed- you are.

Gasping at the faint pop! of your poor joints once Toji’s letting himself droop languidly down onto his knees on the hardwood floor. Close. 

He’s burning so hot, and you eagerly inhale his sweet, cinnamony cologne. Laddered bumps of his abs meshing and melding into your back, his tightly clamped chin rests on the crook of your neck. 

“Mercy-” He’s muttering through clouded pants against your ear, vision flashing white behind his heavy lids. And the moment your gluey walls grip onto around his sensitive slit he thinks he sees heaven. Toji doesn’t think he’s had an orgasm like this in his entire life. “Mercy.”

You’re tangling up a few fingers to scrape along his scalp, parting Toji’s glossy black bangs - and you swear you hear his throat curdle, frantically biting down a hoarse whimper. 

Bulbous head bludgeoning into your forbidden spots and twitching up angrily, every sopping smack against your deepest depths only leave your mouth watering. 

You grind your hips down with a mewl, thighs aching to meet his strained cadence and draw out those tiny, sweltering hot spatters of milky cum. More. Where- 

But Toji’s eyes snap open- fuck! All it takes is one strong arm to hold your entire weight up easily when he darts down an urgent hand to curl dexterously around his hefty girth. Squeezing, tugging- “Fucking- cumming dry? Fuck-”

It can’t be.

Shit, it can’t be.

But a lazy few grazes of his sensitive cock inside your raw cunt helps him find…nothing. Not even a few wiry wisps of splattered seed. Furiously working his fingers up n’ down up n’ down your teary slit, trying to feel for another fresh lather of cum. For that familiar sloshing mess of buttery white- because Toji has never cum dry. Never. 

He’s swatting your puffed-up clit as if it was your fault all he could muster up was a singular dabbing bead of ivory. 

And as Toji watches that surprised glint in your eyes transform into something darker, something…filthier, he knows he can do nothing else but gulp. Chubby balls perking up with a mocking little twitch-

“M’not making it out a-alive, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Ge-ge-genius

“And according to the agenda, we’ll be discuss- fuck-”

It didn’t matter if Nanami was working. It didn’t matter if he had some stupid meeting for tomorrow. 

No- right now the only thing that mattered was that, according to his tracker, his lovely wife was ovulating - and of course, Nanami had to be there as a good husband to…help.

“-discussing the- oh- my love.” You’re sure that you knock over much more than a few important papers when you’re eagerly straddling him at his cool office chair. Looking up at you through blond, curtained lashes, “Still needy, huh?”

The only answer he gets are your greedy hands rovering all over his unbuttoned front. Perking a thumb over one of his bubblegum pink nipples, squeezing ravenously at his toned abs. All the way down until you’re hooking a finger underneath the shirt garter around his muscular thigh to snap!

“Fuck- m’here- m’here, I promise.” He’s massaging all down your perfectly arched spine, planting a slow, lecherous drag of his leaky divot across your spongy cervix. Drawing a goopy line that makes you squirm, “You want some of this, don’t you?”

Nodding and nodding, “Yeah- s-sorry I just need it so hngh- bad right now, Kento.”

“Nothing to apologize for, darling. M’glad to know my girl is ovulating n’ healthy.” Nanami leans back, and you can practically feel the sleazy up and down of his seductive eyes. He’s tilting his head ever-so-slightly, “Why don’tcha use my fucking cock like a good little wife then, hm? Let Kento here get some work done while you haaah- take care of that pretty pussy like a big girl- s’that alright?”

Fuck- you’d take anything you could get at this point. You just needed him.

And Nanami wasn’t serious about looking over some useless documents while you shuffled your hips to milk his every inch. Truly, you were his first priority after all.

But when you gave into his little teases oh-so-easily and looked at him like that- well, how could a man say no?

It’s like you were trying to get him pussydrunk, your sappy folds extra sticky against his toned front. Letting out the cutest of whimpers every time the fleshy mounds of your ass hit his belt buckle with a loud plap! 

Fuck.

Fuck, why did he say that he had work to get done in the first place?

Because now Nanami’s left clutching a crinkled document in one hand, the other soothing down your back as you crane yourself over and give his bumpy Adam’s apple a thorough suck. 

“R-right- the proposal of this project has been m-moved-” He was rereading the same sentence over and over and over. Watching your gyrating motions, alternating between vulgarly deep strokes inside and swivelling grinds to scratch your plump clit against his neat tufts of tawny blond. “...has been moved a-according to the ngh-”

“It- it feels so goood-” Your breath hitches with every cry, every thick drag of his pre-topped mushroom tip plundering your sweetest orifices. Nanami didn’t even have to try with that right-leaning curve of his, every battering bounce had you seeing stars. “-you f-feel so hngh- good, Ken. Wan’ you inside forever.”

Eyes widening a mere sultry fraction, his voice is so breathy. “Fuck.” 

“Focus on your work. You’re smart, baby–” You knew what you were doing - you were always such a minx during ovulation.

“Mhm, not like I’ve got a hngh- distraction.” A very welcome distraction that was currently toying with his haphazard tie, tugging and pulling until Nanami felt lightheaded with just how close he was to you. “A real pretty…” Curving up a thumb to swab up your sappy streaks of slick, it makes your pussy let out the nastiest squelch! “-real loud distraction.”

But, of course, that wasn’t going to stop you.

No. In fact, it’s as if your cadence gets even impossibly sloppier - a hard, fast papping of your hips that makes Nanami’s brows furrow.

“-and the client has r-requested that-” He’s hissing, a snarling smile ever-growing on his hips when your gluey walls cling onto him even tighter the moment he manages to get enough coherent syllables out. “-that we halt-”

A pen that’d been clutched in his hand - when had he even picked that up? - clatters onto the floor when you rake your hands to brush his aching, plump balls. But he barely even hears the commotion over those ringing slurps slurred out of your sloppy cunt.

“F-feeling handsy today, aren’t we?” He was tutting such nonsense at this point, glassy eyes trailing away from that important document in his hands and instead watching the heavenly sight that was you.

You, with your mouth spilling with whines upon whines every time he’s jerking his hips up in a rough ram. Such voluminous piles of buttery pre swashing around your insides forcing Nanami’s words to end up nothing but a ball of lead in his throat.

You’re noting the way his recitation has quieted down, doughy pads of your fingers still massaging where he was most sensitive. Humming, “S’everything alright- hck! Kento?”

And before you can say a word - before you can even blink - those particular meeting notes of his are thrown about halfway across Nanami’s decadent office.

Hands flying to you - everywhere, anywhere. Wrenching off Nanami’s speckled tie to loop them around your wrists and behind your back - tying you. Trapping you as he finishes off a knot.

Such a crazed look smeared all over his face when he’s lacing his now-free hands on top of the sweat-dampened crown of your head and pushing. 

Because you might have been driving him crazy with that depraved, rolling cadence of yours - but when Nanami fucked, he fucked mean. Holding down by your restrained arms to to warm his girthy cock, massaging his ridged veins along your resinous channel with a harsh thrust.

And yet it’s the perfect angle for a direct jackhammer into that magical area of your g-spot. He holds you captive until you’re being bruised with the perfect circular sphere of his inflated tip, until you can only throw your head back and cum.

You’re shuddering, “Cumming- ngh! M’cumming, Ken–” The sparks of white and red behind your shuttered lids are blissful, it’s like you’re crashing right into heaven.

“You got it, you got it-” Nanami’s bouncing his powerful knees to fuck you through your high, dragging his tight, cum-filled balls along the perk of your ass. He’s so large, letting you use him as you pleased. “Your Kento’s here, m’here so hah- gimme a kiss, please?”

Ever the gentleman.

It’s on autopilot when you do - you can’t even control the way your maw falls parted to make it such a slobbery mess. But your husband was far from complaining - “Good- good. Now spit in my mouth.”

“Fuck-” You’re whining, letting loose a viscous mess of spittle that targets Nanami’s pink tastebuds. Back arching when the very moment it meets his tongue makes his leaky divot burst with fat wads of cum. “-s-so full.”

That was an understatement - Nanami’s ribbony streams of seed were filling you up to the brim. He’s holding you still like his own personal toy, letting his staggering volume of cum stream from between your soppy pussylips to ruin his crisp office pants. 

Such round globs of pearly white that only make his smile grow even more feral. Guiding you at a lazy pace up and down up and down his throbbing cock to milk out every ounce.

He lets off a low whistle, “M’missing work tomorrow, huh?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - FRENCH TIPS

“S-Sugu-”

“Settle down, gorgeous.” Geto’s voice is silken-smooth, tinged with something so sexily husky that makes your fatigued thighs clamp even tighter around his pretty wrist. Trembling as he talks you through yet another orgasm tonight, “If you wanna talk out of this cute cunt here then you better let her fucking talk.”

And the only thing meaner than his words was the way that his doughy fingertips were prying apart your folds, circling the very edge of your slick-flooded entrance oh-so-lazily. Teasing. “Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

Fuck- and he knows expertly how to get your sloppy pussy talking just as much as he was right about now. Pulling slobbery slurp! after slurp! that rings across his ears and makes them burn bright red at the fleshy tips.

Cooing away, and if you tilted your head just right you could catch the way that his tender palm was just gleaming with a syrupy lather of your juices. “Mhmmm– You’re the special girl tonight, s’like you’re in fucking heat. ”

You whine, “No–”

And Geto loved that. 

Loved how cute you were when he was mean. Loved splurging out his vicious digits from your hot core to drag his sloppy pink lips down till he was nudging against his mountainous knuckles. 

Sucking every ounce and sappy wad coating his fingers while staring deeply into your eyes. “‘Course you are. S’like a damn waterpark f’me when yer ovulating. Almost makes me wanna finally give you my cock. Almost.”

Almost.

And right now your melty mind couldn’t even fathom the possibility of not having Geto’s achy cock inside you right now. You needed him.

Desperately, your hips perk upwards to bump the fleshy mounds of your ass against his swollen girth. Glissading your skin across his sweltering hot length, yearning to feel the bumpy nudge of his veins. His plump, rotund crown-

“Tch- being teased turns you right now, huh? Or s’this pussy just filthy?” He’s letting off a chuckle, one palm covering your maw to block your saccharine sweet noises - because just the mere sound of your voice was making him twitch. 

He’s leaning in so dangerously close that you could practically read the filthy, filthy intentions in his hooded eyes. Drinking in the flowery whiff of his shampoo, “If you’re so impatient, maybe I shouldn’t give you my c-”

Geto doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Exactly as he’d expected. 

Exactly as he’d wanted. Oh, he loved it when you’d push him down and take exactly what you wanted, no matter how much he denied.

In only mere split-seconds, you’re flipping your positions over to splay him out like such a slut on the cottony sheets. Ass hitting his sharp hip-bones with a resonating pap! when you easily and pliably sink his curved cockhead past your teary slit. 

Inch by solid inch. Brows furrowing at the sheer stretch, tautly pulling your rubbery entrance to mold around his staggering girth-

“Yeahhhh, easy there. Take it hah- easy, gorgeous.” Geto’s batting is long, dark lashes up at you. And if you peered even closer you swear you could see his crinkled lids slip past a few stimulated tears. “S’a biiig stretch, isn’t it? N’ you don’t wanna hngh- hurt yourself.”

But you weren’t listening - you couldn’t.

You squeeze his tender throat tighter and Geto thinks he could cum.

The only thought running through your fuzzy head being to stutter out such thorough bounces, swallowing his rugged length from the curve of Geto’s inflated, ruby red tip, all the way until your plumped clit was rubbing back and forth against his dark happy trail.

“Fuck- hngh!” You’re moaning when his pulsing veins slip and slide in lightning bolted patterns all across your geysering sweet spots. “Feels so good- need more, Suguru.”

“Then fucking- take- it.” He spits, such a snarling grin smearing all across Geto’s face just in time with the pussydrunken splatters of drool leaking from one corner of his mouth. “Arch that back and take it.” Milking him until he’s lurching onto his elbows, “You’re the one ovulating, girl- use me.”

But you could feel your poor, overworked legs shaking, a pout cutely coating your words. “But-”

“Nuh uh, no complainin’-” You can’t help but flinch when his cushiony fingerpads reach over to give your bulging pussylips a good smack. Tugging right on the fleshy hood of your clit, “Take a few more inches n’ tell me who’s the one hngh- that was talking out of her cunt today, hm?”

“Sugu-” Swat! And apparently another soaking spank is all it takes for you to actually listen. Drooping your hips down further and further, bustling his bloated cock bottomlessly before the answering syllables tumble from your lips. “-fuck! Me- was me.”

“That’s right, good girl.” The thick fat of his thumb massages your treacly slit back and forth, forcing your hips to move in circling little gyrations that drive you wild. “Fuck, keep that rhythm. And who begged me to fuck this p-pretty pussy because it was that time of the month. Again and again and again?”

“Me.”

“Exactly.” He sounds so uncharacteristically smug. Dangerous. Such sexy veins puffing up Geto’s milky neck once he’s planting two feet firmly flat onto the cushy ground and pushing. Abs flexing with every swab of his weepy tip down your deepest depths over and over. “So if yer gonna ride me. Ride me right.”

Geto’s so feral pumping your cervix with branded bruises of his circumference, stuffing you so snugly full that your slick was flooding his bulky base in waves. “Bend your knees s’more- yeah. Yeah, move that hah- damn hand.”

Rudely sifting away your shy hands to cup his handsome face, he’s tilting his head right into your touch. You can feel your heart race when Geto nips your cozy palm, “Hold back my ah- hair, gorgeous. Can’t see her.”

Her being the way your glistening folds flutter when you push his silky locks into a haphazard ponytail and pull. Streaking a warm trail of sweetened juices down his abs when Geto bucks his slender hips to reach for-

“Ah! Fuck-” Your hazy eyes bulge out at the sudden crack of raw bliss, before scrunching pathetically shut once more when Geto’s split, plummy head crashes against the bullseye of your g-spot and drills down into it. “Sugu- I think I’m-”

And he knew it before you did. Could already feel the extra clingy smush of your walls, could see the way you’re letting your head tumble emptily backwards and cumming.

How cute.

Geto flies up one ravenous set of fingers to your heatedly pulsing clit and swats, one after the other. Two. Three. Counting them with each peak of pleasure he fucks you mercilessly through. 

Still letting his ears burn with the waterlogged thwack! thwack! thwack! of the spanks, you swear you could hear his breath hitch in awe. “We gotta train your riding, gorgeous. Luckily for you…we have allll night.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “M-more…?”

The moment those words are murking out in a puffed-out cloud from Choso’s lips, he thinks he could faint. He thinks he could feel his ears pop when you’re breaking apart from his plump, cerise tip with a wet plap!

“Mhm–” you’re nodding, treacly ribbons of spit and buttery cum still dangling from your lips and the leaky divot right on top of his swollen cock. “Sorry, Cho- this ovulation still has me so…horny.”

You’d just finished making him cum with that pretty mouth of yours, twice with your hands, and once merely from the sound of your sultry voice. And at the way your lips curve into the perfectly stained pout, Choso finds his loose maw dropping.

“No!” He’s hissing out, sounding as pathetically needy as he feels. A viscous puddle of saliva formulates at the back of his tongue and threatens to trickle from right between his kiss-bitten lips, “No no no don’t apologize, I- I mean.”

And fuck- even after so long with you, Choso still feels so fucking shy. Just the memory from today of you confessing that your ovulation was here and that you wanted him to…help make his high cheekbones scorch over with a cute red blush.

Lower lip wobbly precariously as he’s tugging at your sweat-simmered body to pull you from your knees, supporting your entire weight when you scramble onto unsteady legs. 

You’re raising a brow, “Cho? Do you want-”

Only to be cut off when Choso manhandles you around and all but slams you against the cool wall of your headily humid bedroom. One slender hand curled at your throat, softening the blow, the other pawing greedily at the fat of your ass. 

He’s pulling and prying to take a long look at the way your gluey lips were being oh-so-easily stretched by his aching shaft. 

Oh, you were so hot around him, it’s as if you were melting. Lacquering down a syrupy glaze of slick with every throbbing inch being fed inside-

“Don’t- don’t even know if I can cum anymore-” He’s breathing out in a heated whisper against your ear. Ragged and crazed enough that it makes your spine prickle with tiny goosebumps. “Don’t know if- fuck.”

But of course, he’s spying down at that lecherous sight. Words petering out when he cranes his drunken head downwards to leave an open-mouthed trailway of snogs down your back. Murmuring into your skin, “Don’t know if I can- hngh- even c-cum anymore. But for you–” Finishing off his trek at the finish line of your lips, “-anything for you, baby.”

Such a filthy, filthy French kiss. 

He could taste the saliva sugarcoating your mouth, feel the weight of those globules of his cum swirling into his own mouth. So sinful that it made him whine-

“B-baby, are you sure?” You’re managing, mouth faltering into an oh! as he starts up a fast, urgent rut of his hips. But Choso wasn’t ready to let you free that easily - no, no, no. He’s chasing after your lips as if he was addicted, suckling on your battered lower lip, “If you can’t…”

“I can.” He’s gruffing out, and he’ll apologize for cutting you off later. Right now, the only thing that Choso can do is roughly latch onto your hips and give you steady pound after pound. Countless. “I will- promise. All the way ‘ntil your ngh- ovulation finishes if I hafta, baby–”

Well and fully intent on keeping his promise.

His milky hips smack and strike eagerly against your own until the mounds of muscle underneath Choso’s soaked happy trail was all a stinging red. So much so that you see stars.

And shit- then you’re gazing at him over your shoulder and he thinks he could reach his high just from seeing your pretty face. “M’gonna milk you till you’re heh- dry, baby.”

Choso didn’t care that the tender curve of his fattened balls ached with overuse, didn’t care that those words and a simply snug cling of your dewy walls around him would be enough to make his strawberry orifice leak with copious volumes of cum.

Swamping your spongy cervix, he’s making such an utter mess by slamming! one palm down onto the wall fitting snugly inside you until he was thoroughly bottomed out. 

You’re gasping when you feel the warm plap! plap! plap! of something hitting the curvaceous edge of your shoulder. Only to tilt your head upwards and find your dear boyfriend crying.

Such pearly tears beading out from the edge of his chestnut eyes, and Choso’s clammy flush only grows ever-darker at the intensity of your stare. Fat, cylindrical shaft twitching upwards and hitting your sweetest spots with a dull thud! you shiver when he spurts out exactly three rivulets of sappy seed. 

Only three. 

“O-oh god–” He sucks in a deeply shuddering inhale, watery eyes fluttering as his hefty breeder balls squeeze and make him cum dry. “-s’this okay? S’this- ngh- enough? M’sorry I-”

“Awww, don’t apologize, Cho.” you’re humming, heat coiling at your tummy with just how bloated and full you felt right about now. Choso was always more than generous with the heaping torrentials of seed, swabbing a few delicate speckles with every thrust of his. “You did great- ngh- did so well.”

“Really?” He’s tightening his fingers around your throat to shut you up, to choke you lightheaded - because oh. There was his second weakest point - your praise. Only second to simply you in general. “Really? Y-you shouldn’t say that, baby- s’gonna ngh- make me…”

He doesn’t have to say a word.

He can’t.

Not when Choso was leaning back to eye your geysering hole, gulping at the sweltering hot beads of cum that trickle from between your pretty lips. Wispy little goblets that he can’t help but thumb over with a huff. 

“U-uh, baby.” Shit, there was something dark in that tone of his. Something…greedy. From the corner of your eye, you’re catching the pinkish flash of Choso’s tongue glide slooowly along his kiss-bitten lips while he still stares down lovingly at your pussy. After all- didn’t you say you’d milk him dry? He wasn’t quite dry just yet, no matter what the sensitive sting of his balls said. “On second thought- don’t you…don’t you want more?”

And he swears that only makes you wetter, you’re leaning upwards to kiss away one salty tear of his, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Oh. 

Choso’s going to marry you.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Dickmatize

“Kuna- Kuna—” You were babbling away stupidly after only a few bruising strikes of Sukuna’s restless hips, halfway through crashing into the royal headboard if it wasn’t for one of his clawed hands latching firmly onto the crown of your scalp. 

“K-K-Kuna-” He’s mocking with a roll of his eyes, perking up two of his enguling hands to angle your hips even deeper. And the grin he’s plastering all over his handsome features is so sleazy, “S’there anything else ya can say, woman?”

Your lips wobble with a few strained whines, “Harder.”

“Harder? Keh- harder?” Sukuna spits out, letting your woozy lips drag across his in a lazy slip n’ slide - just about all that you could manage with how spellbound you were right now. “‘Course ya want fucking harder when you can’t even ah- handle- this-”

But it’s not as if Sukuna was doing any better.

Fuck was he glad that your dewy gaze was way too cross-eyed with every one of his vulgar strikes. 

Because Sukuna’s monstrously towering body was shivering, hooded eyes growing heavier every time the spherical ends of both cockheads skated into your snug channel. 

You were taking him so well, and that was making his cursed second mouth salivate.

And when he tilted his head mere inches his closer and sucked in a deep whiff-

“Shiiiit- I can even hah- smell the ovulation on ya, woman.” And Sukuna didn’t mind it one bit, in fact, he was taking in such heaving lungfuls of that specially candied air. Elongated canines gleaming in the dim lighting, “And it’s fucking delicious.”

He could always smell those special few days of the month when you got just a bit sweeter, even more gorgeous than usual, just a bit…needier.

The problem was that everyone else seemed to notice too. 

And he had half the mind to think that your ovulation was affecting him, as well. Because Sukuna felt feverish, head falling backwards when his proud lengths pry apart your gluey walls as if he was opening up his very own gift.

He just felt so dumb on your pretty pussy.

Your saturated folds lacquer with a freshly new wave of slick once Sukuna lets his maw fall slack with a growl. Sharp teeth nipping right down your throbbing pulse, easy to sink in. To mark. 

“P-Please–” You’re squealing when he’s letting off numerous thwacks! of his curvaceous balls against the weepy end of your slit, hard enough that it almost bruises. “Need you r-right here.”

And shit- Ryomen Sukuna may be the notorious king of curses, but he was nothing against you. Nothing against just how evil you were with your pretty hands trembling up the cylindrical bulge he was pounding into you.

“Want me to fill up th-this pretty pussy till everyone can see, huh?” Sukuna’s rumbling out, so close now that you could feel the rasping vibrato of his bulging pecs glissading down your front. “Till even that new fuck- coworker of yours realizes?”

His husky words out of place enough to make your droopy lids blink repeatedly, “Wha- who?”

That bastard giving you fucking goo-goo eyes and clinging onto you, that’s what. But Sukuna can’t utter that - he can’t even bring himself to do anything other than grit his sharp jaw, “Talkin’ about another man while m’all inside you, huh?”

Ah, the way your mouth falls into a shocked oh! is just adorable. 

Cockdrunken tongue struggling to get the coherent syllables out to defend yourself against his little tease. And if you were in any better state of mind you’d have sworn that only made him harder.

Stacked lengths barrelling into you once. Twice. And yet, pulling out on the third - watching your brows furrow when he takes his leisurely time fighting back the clingy embrace of your glutinous walls as he pulls out inch by fucking inch.

“Maybe you should have him fuck you insead.” Sukuna arches a regal brow, curling a stray hand around his bulky bases to leave a syrupy swot! right on your glossed folds. But, of course, with him it was always double the spank making your toes curl. Heavy. And hot. 

It makes your head spin, full of cottony thoughts of just him. “D-don’ want anyone else- ngh- Kuna- Just need you in me right now.”

“S’that sooo?” He’s drawling out, two palms smearing your jittery legs and spreading them widely agape. All the way until your inner thighs burned with both the stretch and the spurting streaks of pre he left. “Don’t know if I believe this slutty pussy, brat. Maybe s’jus’ the ovulation talkin’.”

He was being so mean.

But what was even meaner was the way Sukuna’s roguish second tongue lolls out to splat! right down on your treacly cunt. So, so comparably large - he was easily drawing wet little patterns all over your gooey core. 

Over n’ over.

“M’not- s’not–” You’re choking out, mouth needily parched. Rovering your hands dexterously over to cup his aching cocks - but you could barely even squeeze your digits into a close around them both. “S’not just the ovulation, Kuna-”

“Then say it.” He snickers, having way too much fun with just how needy you are. “Spell it out f’me.”

Hips bucking impatiently, “S-spell what-” But that’s when you realize- oh, that’s when you’re registering that those lewd little patterns being made out onto your pussy weren’t just patterns. 

No, you’re wrenching your eyes open just a bit wider to take in the sappy trail of sweet, sweet juices glazing Sukuna’s wet muscle. Lugging ounces of it allll over his tongue as he makes such a mess of you down below.

With the help of two fat digits smushing your cheeks together he’s prying your head to look right down. Just at the right angle to watch the dizzying motions of his tongue spelling out-

“A? Wait no-” Gasping as he plants another papping spank on your puffed-up folds, “-R? A-and is that- Y?”

You already knew what the next shape was going to be - you didn’t even have to watch the very edge of his roughened tastebuds draw a slow, circular kiss. 

Way off in the fuzzy distance you think you can hear Sukuna chuckle, cooing at your cute mewls. “O-o? Does it spell out- haaah- Ryo?”

Yeah, he was in love.

“Damn right.” Sukuna bites back a moan, when he sinks back in mercilessly. Feeding your starving cunt with a few scorching inches of both swollen cocks - and then all at once. “You’re mine, lil’ human.” And one slam turns into two. Four. Eight- until Sukuna was fucking you like he couldn’t stop. 

You were mumbling out stupidly, floods of murky saliva spilling in heaps from your mouth. “All yours?”

He’s spitting twice - once from each mouth. Wadding one mess past your ajar lips, and then another to slip down the hill of your clit.

“All mine.” He grins, oversized tongue slithering past your syruped folds to poke its way into your already-overstuffed hole. Taking in a deeeep breath of your honeyed pheromones, “And m’gonna fuck ya till that pretty lil’ head remembers.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - F.E.V.E.R.

Oh- Gojo’s head nuzzles dopily into the treasured crook of your neck, lips parted to heave out a scorching little pant of sweetheart—!

And at this point his sing-songy baritone is broken several octaves higher, held together at the seams with only a drunkenly crooked grin that you know doesn’t bode well for you. 

Because once again you’re left wondering whether it’s really you that’s ovulating or your dear, feverishly deprived husband right here.

Fingers twitching on the splintered mahogany headboard above, he jostles his hips to give your bruised and battered cervix a stinging little swab. Strawberry divot so red and angry, that just the slightest push leaves him slathering your insides with creamy pre in long, lazy ribbons. 

Just to remind you how achingly hard he still was. 

Even after hours and hours of you milking him dry, he was vibrating with the powerful buzz of reverse cursed energy that kept him oh-so-swollen.

“S-s’that ‘enough?” Gojo trembles out, shudders wracking down his spine. And you can’t help but ogle that unintentionally sexy flex of his washboard abs massaging onto your front. The way you could count each n’ every tight ridge. “S’that all my- hck! ovulatin’ girl can handle?”

Your chest lugs in desperate pants of air at the way each throbbing inch of his probes into your steaming orifices one by one. Languidly, as if Gojo had all the time in the world. “Y-yes…”

And oh, you really didn’t expect the strongest to fall for that one- did you?

All it takes is a few sloppy seconds for him to reel his head back and giggle, wild. Sapphire eyes gazing down at the inflationary little bulge he was fucking into you. 

Practically purring, practically heart-eyed. “Really? Well, that’s reeeeal interestin’, sweetheart, because-” Gojo’s dipping the thick, rounded pads of his digits to splay out over your tummy. Hard. And you swear you glimpse the way his half-lidded eyes crinkle with electric bolts of cursed energy, “-I can see that this pretty pussy is still in need of a hah- gooood fucking.”

You squeal when those very same fingers take a much filthier approach, tracing cute little patterns down, down, down to the sensitive nub of your clit. Before twirling over your plump hood and pinching. Making your leaky hole lacquer itself even wetter, “You’re still ovulating, needy girl.”

“Th-then—” you hiss back, the sole sound of your voice making his fat, ruddied tip twitch. He was so sensitive, so…filthy.

Feeling the soft curve of his free hand latch onto your waist, pinning down your squirming hips until you couldn’t jostle them even a singular inch more. To feel him more, ever-messing up your insides. “-then stop teasing me and-”

Ah, this was his favorite part.

Right when you had your brows furrowed needily that way, right when your lolling mouth was half-opened into the shape of a few snappy insults-

That’s the exact split-second he’s arching his prespired back into the perfect curve, hitting the spongy target of your g-spot dead on. 

“Still want more- h-heh–” Pearly white canines snarl back at the slippery slide of his dumbfoundingly long girth down your sweetest spots, rounded globes of his cum-filled sack swatting against the ends of your soppy slit with a resounding thwack! He lets off such a whine, “My girl wants- no, is begging for…more.”

Fuck, he sounded so ruined. Voice as brittle as you felt. 

You watch as his prominent Adam’s apple bobs with a husky ah! ah! ah! after every bounce back from the heated depths of your pretty pussy - he couldn’t bear to part even for those repeated split-seconds. Ruby red cockhead leaving stringy little wetspots that have you seeing stars.

“Yes-” you’re gurgling out, and Gojo’s only snapping his hips with vulgar strokes even faster to dredge out those pretty noises from you. “Yes yes- yes! Need it even harder, Satoru.”

Somewhere off in the distance you’re hearing a sharp crack! and only hours and hours later do you realize that it’s your poor bedframe. 

In the back of Gojo’s mind he couldn’t help but think that you’d be next.

“Harder- wait- harder? Ohhh, fuck- she wants more-” He’s seething out, planting a tempo of pounds after pounds that make sparks of heat sprint down your spine. It felt like you were being split into two - it felt like he was mazing apart your adhesive walls with such expertise that he must’ve been unfairly using his Six Eyes. “D’you realize that when you ask th-the strongest for hah- more, I might just break ya, sweetheart?”

Your dewy pussy folds twitch at those very words, enough to get him melting over into you. Hunching his sculptured body heatedly against yours, it has him considering proposing right then and there- “Wan’ you to, Toru–”

Fuck “considering.” 

Gojo’s feeling his maw flood with a syrupy wave of saliva, spilling out in trickling rivers on either side of his coral pink lips when he’s choking out, “Marry me- marry me.” 

His reverse cursed technique wasn’t even workin anymore - power rolling off of him in pressurized waves. He couldn’t control it.

Feeling his eyes go crazily wide, he could already feel them watering when Six Eyes kick into overdrive but still doesn’t look away from where your needy entrance was sucking his every fat inch. He wouldn’t. He can’t.

Entranced. 

Can’t do anything else, didn’t even register the wadded mess of sweltering cum coating your insides in a sloppy second skin. 

You’re squealing as more and more strikes planted onto your drooling cunt leave you rendered stupid. Gojo’s eager fingertips keeping your saturated lips held captive with an ever-tightening squeeze.

Your thighs jitter helplessly at the swashing cobwebs of seed that fill you to the brim and more. Seeping from your flooded entrance slobbering in a sloppy ring around Gojo’s hefty base, one that lecherously matches the drenched white happy trail scratching up and down against your puffy clit. 

“Baby, w-we-” So full it’s like you can barely even speak. Gulping in deep lungfuls of his expensive cologne when he’s stuffing into your personal space and nastily swirling his bloated cock around n’ around your rubbery walls, till you’re soaked with his cum in every nook and cranny. “-we’re already married.”

“O-oh.” He’s sucking in a sharp inhale, eyes flickering with axioms of power once he scoops up generous helpings of ivory seed topping his shaft, popping it into your mouth with a wet plop! 

And then - only then - is he finally looking away from your bawling cunt.

You’re not sure whether his simpering, feral smile is because of the realization or because he’s finally noticing that he’d cum. Only…the next few words spilling from Gojo’s mouth make you realize that it’s neither- “Can see that we’re gonna have a daughter soon, Mrs. Gojo.”

“...”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’m nearing ovulation hm…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[rafesangelita]

♡ when you’re so wet that rafe keeps slipping out..

warnings: making out, heavy petting, dry humping (not really, it’s pretty messy), finger sucking, cockwarming (?), unprotected sex, praise, teasing, rafe being super pussy drunk, belly bulge, size kink, biting, slight dacryphilia

“fuck, look at those hips..” rafe pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva still connecting you two as he dragged you up and down his lap, his large palms enveloping the soft globes of your ass. with shaky hands, you held onto his shoulders as you rocked on top of him, your panties drenched with your arousal. “need’ you, ray..” you whimpered, “please.” rafe pressed a trail of sloppy kisses across your collarbone, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut.

he navigated your body like it was the back of his hand, his skillful touch turning you into putty. rafe could feel your heat through his boxers, the soaked fabric making him groan as his hardened cock strained against the material. “i’ll give it you, baby, don’t worry,” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, ripping a yelp from your lips, “wet those fingers for me.” rafe could only imagine how slippery your cunt would feel swallowing him whole, your slick alone already making you glide easily on top of the layers separating you two from full penetration.

giggling softly, rafe watched as your hand disappeared underneath the waistband of your panties, his breath hitching once you held up your fingers, a pool of your sticky succulence glistening underneath the dim light. knowing that he was the one to make you like this made him twitch with need, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he brought your digits to his mouth. with a baited breath, you gasped softly when he took your juices on his tongue, the man in front of you moaning at the taste.

no matter how many times rafe found his head between your thighs, he could never get used to how intoxicating you were, all of his senses and primal instincts honing in on fucking you stupid. without wasting another second, rafe was quick to take himself out of his boxers, a hiss leaving his lips as his length smacked against your tummy. peeling back the lace material of your underwear, he slid them down your legs until he caught sight of the absolute mess between your thighs.

laying you down on your back, rafe brought your knees up to your chest, using one hand to press on your lower abdomen and the other to guide himself between your folds. he was so hard, he had to use his thumb to keep the tip of his cock down so he could enter your needy cunt. he marveled at the size difference, the head of his length stopping just below your belly button. “fuck, i’m gonna wreck you..” he trailed off, toying with your clit before slipping inside, filling you up inch by inch until you were crying out in both pleasure and pain.

with the hand that he had on your stomach, he guided your own over the budge in your tummy, your eyes widening slightly as he started thrusting into you at a steady pace. “you feel that? ‘feel the way my cock fills you up to the fucking brim?” your eyes rolled back at the same time you whined out a ‘f-fuck, yes!’ into your palm. your walls stretched deliciously around the the welcomed intrusion that was his length, your pussy clenching around him for all that he had. the sounds falling from your lips were nothing short of pornographic, the moans and choked sobs only pushing rafe closer to the edge.

he sped up until his skin was slapping against your own, your back arching off of the bed when he slipped out and stroked your clit with the underside of his cock. you shrieked at the sensation, your legs trembling in sensitivity. “too much..” you shook your head, bringing your legs down to wrap around his waist instead. rafe groaned, your slick dripping down his length as he tapped your glossy folds. “you’re so fucking wet, i’m slipping right out,” he grunted, “this is what i do to you, ‘pretty girl?” he leaned down, nipping the sensitive part of your neck.

he kept himself nestled inside of you for a few moments, letting you revel in being so utterly full. you gave him an approving hum, your nails digging into his skin as he bit you softly across your collarbone. starting up his thrusts again, he slipped out as soon as he picked up the pace, the action making him curse under his breath. your eyes watered in frustration, your bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth. rafe saw your tears, the sight shooting straight to his cock. he loved seeing how delirious he made you, his chest filling up with pride as you looked up at him with that fucked-out gaze.

soon after he continued, your high was hitting you in intense waves, the coil in the pit of your stomach snapping in two as rafe watched your eyebrows knit together, the added mess between your thighs only making his hips stutter with his own climax painting your walls. “rafe!” you screamed in his ear, his thumb slipping between your lips for you to bite down on while he twitched and convulsed inside of you. a shiver ran down his back as he caged you tightly between his arms, his seed spilling out of you as you both went through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

once you were okay, rafe pressed a kiss to your lips, stroking the side of your face before rolling over to your side. “what’s your ring size?” he sighed, pulling you against his chest. you laughed softly, slightly confused at the words that left his mouth. “why?” rafe’s chest was rising and falling as he glanced down at you, meeting your eyes. “are you kidding me? i need to lock this pussy down. like tonight.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

do you see anyone other than me? (baby please) | rafayel (lnds)

✮ tags ; rafayel x fem+ afab!reader, established relationships, dom!reader, sub!rafayel, gentle femdom, oral (m!recieving + some f!recieving), anal (m!recieving), praise kink (so much), dirty talk (SO much),pegging / topping, top!reader, bottom!rafayel dry orgasms 18+

✮ wc ; 6.9k (come on man)

✮ a/n ; reader and mc do not share a personality in this. reader is intentionally meant to have like... a more serious personality. so they are mc but not at the same time if that makes sense sdkjskj.

also i know this guy but only a little bit. i was planning on binging the main story after caleb got released but got ?? caught up writing this?? this has happened twice im so scared

✮ synopsis ; making sure rafayel actually forgives you is at the top of your priorities.

When you come home  from the office, take your shoes off, and turn the corner into the living room—you know without looking that Rafayel is in a mood.  

Not a good one.  

It’s something in the air, a lingering tension that makes all movement stiff as you attempt to navigate through the unease. You find Rafayel on the couch. Soft, deep lavender waves tussled like he’s been tossing and turning - pressed into the side of the couch. All curled up small.  

Somehow, you just know what sort of attitude you’ll be met with. You know your lover well enough to know that he’ll be moody but you’ve less confidence in regards to what that mood may be.  

Taking a deep breath, you step into the wide expanse of Rafayel’s living room and studio. His head turns, bangs falling in his face as you slide your work bag off from your shoulder to set aside. Your keys, noisy as you set them down, even gently—trying to leave the air undisturbed. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder but realizes he can’t completely see you that way. Instead of standing to his feet to come greet you, he drops his head back on the arm of the couch to stare at you upside down in a tense silence.  

You give him a look. His mood is sour. Maybe more than you thought. He smiles first, then frowns unhappily before turning his attention back to what he was doing. You hear small scratching noises—he’s sketching. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there doing that, since he usually just prefers to paint without thinking too hard.  

After that, he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t greet you, either.  

“I’m home.” You say evenly. You think about being placating from the jump, but without knowing his exact reason - you worry you’ll only worsen the state of affairs.  

Rafayel hums. “Welcome home.”  

Your brain wracks through every possibility on what could be the source of this level of moodiness. Sometimes, his moody behavior is for kicks but it’s not this time. If it was, he’d lay it on thickly. Act theatrically towards you, get in your face about it. 

But he’s tense, forceful—every scratch of his pencil is too harsh like it’s rife with irritation. You tread carefully.  

“Can I sit with you?”  

“Why are you asking? Don’t you live here too? Just because I bought the couches with my money doesn’t mean—��  

“Rafayel.” You say, interrupting him. He scowls at you. “Can I?”  

As if more bothered by you being level, he huffs. It’s followed with a business smile over his shoulder. “Sure. Do whatever you want.”  

You choose to sit on the empty end of the couch where Rafayel does his sketching - fitting yourself in the gap of his space near his feet. You slide yourself in then gently lift his legs into your lap. Rafayel gives you a look when you do this, clearly debating on whether or not he should reject your act of goodwill. Ultimately he stays. 

Notably, while his pencil is still scratching on paper - you think by this point he’s not really sketching anything at all.  

“I got off of work late,” You explain. You rest your hands on his calf gently. “There was an incident near the station but it was a false alarm so I ended up being cleared.”  

“Oh? Is that so?”  

Warm, you think. You nod.  

“There’s been a lot of Metaflux increases in the residential districts close to our headquarters. It’s odd.” You explain. Rafayel is quiet, looking at his nails disinterested. You go on, not taking offense. “Strange as it is, there’s been no active threats. Still, given the location, it needs a lot of man power to be investigated.”  

Rafayel sits quietly, unreadable. You continue on. “So it’s been busy. I think we’ve cleared the level of threat, so another team will probably take over soon.”  

“Hm.” Rafayel says, a petulant edge to his voice. Warmer. “So that’s why you’ve been so late this week. I guess it’s good that nothing happened. It must’ve been difficult, so difficult if you could barely spend time with your one and only lover. But I guess it’s fine, it’s not like there’s anything you can do in that circumstances. Well, you could’ve done a lot but if it didn’t occur to you there’s nothing to be said, then again—why would it—“  

Hot. “Rafayel.”  

“What.” 

“I’m sorry for being late,” You say.  

A beat. His frown deepens.  

“And?”  

You pause before answering, smiling apologetically. “For not keeping in contact with you more.”  

Some of the life returns to him. You’ve deduced the source of his bad mood, which means the only thing left is to alleviate it. You don’t like seeing him upset. He’s quick to forgive you, always optimistic and trying to keep your relationship lighthearted.  

But there is an underlying desire in him that makes you more conscious about any minor infringements. Despite himself, Rafayel is more concerned about you liking him than he’ll ever let on in  his life. Even when he’s upset, he’ll forgive you - but the feelings linger until they explode. When he gets like that, it’s much harder to comfort him.  

It’ll fester if you don’t apologize properly. You know him well enough to know that and you love him well enough to not want to see when disaster strikes.  

(Plus, there’s something about the way he’s still pouting. He’s trying to relax, but it’s there. It’s cute to you. It makes you want to kiss it better.) 

“I’m sorry,” You offer. You reach for the hand resting in his lap and he lets you take it, though it’s limp. You press a kiss to the back of it, eyes full of affection. “I’m not used to having someone wait for me,”  

Rafayel makes another face at you, unreadable. “Not just anyone.”  

You laugh lightly. “That’s true.”  

Squeezing his hand tighter, you kiss it one more time. “Can I make it up to you…?” 

“I don’t know. Can you?”  

“I’d like to,” You offer, another kiss - just higher on back of his hand. Closer towards his wrist. “Whatever you wanted.”  

“Whatever I want is a tempting offer, Miss Bodyguard. What a talent for bargaining you have, indeed. Maybe you should try bidding a one of my auctions, just to see.” 

“I’d bid too high off the bat. I’d go bankrupt,” You tease back, a sweet lilt to your voice that makes Rafayel’s eyes shimmer, fond of your wit. “Would you be willing to keep me if I gave it all up that way, I wonder?”  

“Since it was for me, I could consider being merciful.”  

You give him sincere but small smile and Rafayel seems to warm up seeing it. He can be coy, even playful about his affection but there’s something about him today that feels more shy then it does anything else. 

“If I can ask for whatever I want,” Rafayel starts. “Maybe we could start with paying back your dues. After all you owe me your full undivided attention after your week of neglect.” 

“That’s easy.” You say, charming. Rafayel makes a face at you that makes you want to laugh. “I wanted to give you that anyway. Is that all?”  

“Are you telling me to be more demanding? You think that’s a wise choice?”  

“If it makes you happy, I’ll play the fool.”  

It’s corny, deliberately not something you’d say to anyone else or at any other time. Something that Rafayel might say to you in a different circumstance, so in a way you’ve simply beat him to the punch. He goes through several feelings, each passing over his expression. Amusement to disbelief to embarrassment even he can’t cover up too easily. 

Great risk comes with great reward. Yours is a smiling Rafayel, boyish and amused. Color returned to him, a playful air of mischief about him.  

“Well if you’re that desperate to make it up to me, then I guess I could try to forgive you. Gosh, you must be so desperate if you’re willing to act this way. You’ve totally fallen for me, haven’t you?”  

Yes, you think. Too much of that at once and he’ll get shy again. You’ll have plenty of coaxing to do later so you keep the thought to yourself. You smile at him instead. “So, you’ve anymore demands for me, my liege?”  

Rafayel hums before breaking out into a grin. “Hmm. For now, just one.” He offers you his hand. “Take me upstairs.”  

__  

Rafayel has a way about him, with you and only you, that makes you especially weak to his advances.  

Whatever those advances are, however taxing on you they may be—there’s so rarely a time where you can tell him no. He likes having that much influence over you, no matter what his particular mood is. If he’s feeling the desire to keep you under his thumb or be at your mercy. Whats central to him in each instance is that he has the full breadth of your attention, your desire, and most importantly—your lacking will to resist.  

You like it all because you like Rafayel. Like how it feels trying to hold onto him as  he slips between your fingers.  

If someone asked you what you like most, though - it’d be this.  

Not quite at your mercy but expectant of your devotion. Crystalline eyes and long, straight lashes blinking up at you with unwitting demand, crowding around you mercilessly. A gaze that weakens you, disarms you, demands your propriety.  

“What are you thinking about?”  

His words come out more annoyed than he wants them to. Your eyes come back into focus to Rafayel on top of you, in your lap as you lean against the headboard. His weight settled like he’s something that fits there perfectly and he does. Your hand reaches for his lower back, eyes tracing down the damp skin. Button shirt opened just loose enough to catch glimpse of his collarbones, with only boxers underneath. Your hands run down his sides, smooth down his bare thighs - mesmerized by cream colored skin that begs for blemishes. 

His expression bewitches you even when your mind had prepared you for it. You smile almost lazily, drawing him just a little closer to you until your noses touch. “Of you.”  

He scoffs at you. “Is that so? Not that you have no reason to think about your perfect, darling lover—it’s just that it seems like he’s the last thing on your mind these days, so you know,-“ 

You kiss him. It’s only partially to shut him up. It’s mostly because him talking makes you look at the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips—the way he’s pouting at you. It’s almost too much. You part after a minute, careful not to deepen the kiss.  

He has something to say after the fact, dazed - hands on your shoulders trying to give himself the room to speak before you kiss him again.  

But you don’t relent. You kiss him harder, a hand around the back of his neck - slipping your tongue against his lips in the way you like. He doesn’t concede. You’re not really expecting him to. He kisses back even harder like he’s trying to prove a point - teeth digging into your lower lip. A little too sharp for human, but perfect for him.  

You pull away breathless. A hand still on the nape of his neck, sliding around enough to feel his pulse under your thumb. Thump, thump, thump—rabbit quick. You smile at him suggestively, proving him displeased.  

“Don’t interrupt me. Trying to kiss me when I’m airing out my complaints is unprofessional and rude, I’ll have you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Your lips brush his jawbone. “It’s hard to think about talking when you’re half-naked on top of me.”  

“You can be so vulgar. It’s shocking. You’re usually all serious and about work and then sometimes you look like a dog waiting to be told it can have the treat on it’s nose,” Rafayel says airily. Fake haughty, voice colored with coyness. You look up at him. “Does it really count as making it up to me if all you’re doing is lusting after me?”  

You don’t deny him at face value. “You set the standard. You tell me. Do you feel like I’m still making it up to you or should I work  a little harder?”  

There’s something between you. A spark of electricity that fizzles and pops, tension deepening. Rafayel likes playing tug of war with you. Even though he’s expecting to be pampered - there’s nothing easy about letting him. But it works when you keep yourself even. Eager. Having your desire and lust for him out in the open gives him the power again and he likes that, even when it’s mostly pretend.  

“Work harder. You have to earn your paycheck Miss Bodyguard.” He says. You laugh a little, sitting up a little straighter.  

“Yes boss,” You reply. You lean forward, pulling his weight down as your hands slide underneath the loose, flowy button up. Your hands find his waist, holding his sides before gliding them up on the planes of his back. He’s got lean muscle, a swimmers build that feels tight to the touch.  

You kiss him on the lips again, tongue sweeping against his lower lip. Rafayel playfully rejects it when you do. You pull away one hand to cup the back of his neck and force the kiss deeper, tongue pressing the closed seam of his lips until he yield and lets you. He melts at the gesture rather  unwittingly, the softest little whimper sounding as you feel your tongues touch. It’s a wet, hot kiss. Mouth sticky with spit and saliva.  

“I’m working hard so you shouldn’t be too hard on me,” You say playfully. Rafayel rolls his hips, makes a noise for you as he huffs. “I want to make you feel good.”  

“You’re—“  

You interrupt him again. Not with a kiss on his mouth this time, but a chaste one to the very corner of of it - trailing down the soft curve of his jawline. You make the pressure on his neck featherlight. Thin skin prone to being sensitive, he melts at the soft touch. Cranes his neck up subconsciously to give you access to it. In the spirit of pampering him, you bite at the skin with a genuine hunger. Marking each bruise with a kiss first, you sink your teeth into him without remorse. Incisors scraping the delicate area before you suck hard, broken capillaries throbbing underneath your tongue when you lick them after the fact. 

 Deep, deep shades of red and purple bloom all over the column of his throat. It doesn’t feel like enough to you still.  

“My neck hurts from all your biting.” His voice comes out in wet pants, betraying the sentiment. You laugh warmly at his attempt to diverge.  

“Does it? Should I be gentler, then?” You offer. After you feel like you’ve marked his neck enough, you press another feather-light kiss right where his adams apple sits. Another on his clavicle. When it gets to his collarbone - you don’t do anything more than brush your lips.  

Rafayel whines. It’s a throaty sound that makes your whole body break out into a shiver. Such a pleasant sound on the ears that your mind pictures instantly what other sounds he might make if you just had your way with him. It uncovers a selfish part of you. You could flip him over on your bed and take him if you wanted. Fuck him until he sings as punishment maybe for being tempting like a siren drawing a lone sailor into deep waters.  

You keep the thoughts to yourself, and keep your composure. You ask again instead. “Come on. Tell me. Do you want me to touch you more gently?”  

He fusses in your lap. You grin. “What’s the point in being gentle now if you’re being so rough to begin with? The change would be just weird, you know.”  

“I guess it would,” You let yourself lick the same places you just kissed. You bite then hard enough to leave a mark and Rafayel arches himself into it. “It’s better like this then, right? If I leave marks all over you, then maybe you’ll feel less lonely when I get busy again.”  

“I should get to leave them on you too. Your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. A physical reminder might do you some good, yes.”  

His voice is trembling, despite himself. You pull away to look up at him, and catch sight of a fragility you sometimes forget he’s capable of. Brows drawn into a furrow, lips pulled into a pout. Like a wound reopened inside of him that he’s so desperate to cauterize but can’t. You want to kiss the lines between his brows and get on your knees for it. A proof of your affection.  

“I’m sorry for being careless,” You say, sincere. Rafayel looks ready to quiet you, concerned about the mood but you proceed anyhow. You lift his shirt up and hold it to his mouth, and he bites without your instruction. Bare chest exposed to him, you flit your gaze to his face. “I can’t do anything but try to beg your forgiveness. Still,”  

You kiss his sternum, your hands on his waist. You fingers trail down his sides, hands sliding back up to chest. His nipples are hard, damp skin cool to the touch. Your warm him with your fingers, rolling over the sensitive tips. Rafayel makes a muffled noise, his cock twitching responsively.  

“All I ever really think about is you,” You say. Rafayel gives you a long, unreadable look as you toy with his chest. “I’m not the type to half-ass things so my thoughts always revolve around you. Finishing work to come home to you. If you’ve eaten or if you locked yourself in the studio to paint all day. If we should go somewhere together on my day off.”  

You lean forward and stick your tongue out, taking his nipples into your mouth. You roll the other one with your hand to increase the pleasure - content as you watch his face begin to flush. He watches you so closely, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. You suck hard, wetting them with saliva before you take them gently between your teeth and tugging.  

“I’m not good at balancing work with play. I’m also not very friendly so you’re the only person I’ve ever spent so much time dating” You hum, nuzzling his skin. “I’m sure down the line it’ll be harder. But, if it helps, it’s true that my heads always filled with you.”  

Your hands grip his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly as you suck and bite his chest again. A line of saliva connects you both as you pull away - teethmark indentations in their place.  

“I want to make you feel good,” You maneuver Rafayel until he’s underneath you. His expression reads as overwhelmed but the faint blush blooming all over his skin and the hazy look in his eyes makes you confident he’s feeling more than just uncertainty. More like restlessness. A desire to be touched as he lays on his back with you looming over him. “And to touch you everywhere.”  

You lean into him, trailing kisses down the his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you touch him, spreading his legs as you put your thumb inside the waistband of his boxers.  

Like this, he looks especially enchanting. The sleeves of his shirt pulled over his palms, button-up bunched up underneath his chin, and tight gray boxer briefs snug around his hips. Your bedroom, dimly lit, casting shadow on the sinewy muscle. His chest heaves with anticipation, stomach tense as your lips trace a path down from chest to navel. Excitement wracks through his body.  

You put a hand on his stomach and look up at him. “I want to leave my mark on all of it. I want your body to remember I felt this deep inside of you and shiver. You’ll be able to think of me half as much as I think of you.”  

Rafayel heaves, eyes glossed over. “Shit, you’re so unfair. It’s like you have two personalities or something. Are you tricking me? Is it actually you in there?”  

You smile a little, pleased by his reply.  

You follow your instinct, sliding his boxers off and tossing them somewhere. Rafayel is hard. So hard it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock is ruddy, wet with pre-cum and swollen. His dick is long. Stands up with a straight curve. You breathe on it, making Rafayel flinch with anticipation. Your eyes flicker up to his face, terrible pout betraying his feigned moodiness..  

“Don’t tease me,” He voices. Arousal strikes through you like hot iron at the whine of his voice. Almost pitiful.  

“Not today,” You promise. 

You making yourself comfortable between Rafayel’s legs, sticking your tongue out to taste him. He smells like soap and skin, but the scent is still so arousing. Your head is heavy with it, senses suffocating, hands stabilizing themselves by grabbing hold of his thighs. Rafayel looks near overwhelmed from even the slightest touch. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet. Almost meek. He must be aching for you more than he lets on.  

You let his cock rest against your face, nuzzling it with your cheek. His cock responds sweetly to the lewd act. He lets out a sigh about, subtly trying to shimmy away from the touch. Unable to win against your grip, he sinks back into the bed and takes a long breath.  

“Keep your eyes on me,”   

In the business of spoiling him, you leave your teasing to a minimum. You gather spit in your mouth and spit it onto his cock with force - relishing the his breath hitches. How his eyes widen just slightly. You stroke his shaft with a tight grip, bringing your head down suck lightly below the shaft of his cock. His head falls back again, mouth open in a silent plea.  

Rafayel keens for you when you work him with the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You use your hands to fondle him while you shift your attention to his length. Your lips placing hot kisses up until they stop at the slit - tongue dipping into and tasting precum. Salty and warm. You wet your lips again and brush them against his cock - watching the way his expression shifts at the sensation, lightly sucking as you build yourself up having him in your mouth.  

He pitches his hips with desperation that spurs you to give him more pleasure. You open wide to take his cock into your mouth. The weight of it feels good. Arousal clouds your mind as you hollows your cheeks and stick your tongue out over your lip. He’s throbbing so hard it makes you lightheaded.  

A minute passes as you just hold him in your mouth, getting your jaw used to the sensation before you put in work in making him feel good. Like steel over your velvet, you use your tongue to lap at the sensitive skin while spitting and drooling. You’re making a mess. The room echoes with the filthy noise of you swallowing and choking on Rafayel’s cock.  

“Oh, fuck.” 

Your eyes flicker up to Rafayel, trying not to crack a smile at the state of disarray he’s in. His expression is so twisted from pleasure. All of his features reflective of it. His blush seems to creep down even further the longer you go. Your body gradually heats up, core throbbing as you take him down. Take him slowly into the narrow canal of your throat, eyes watering.  

You ease yourself down the very base - nose pressed against his navel, tongue over your lip. Rafayel’s fingers curl into the sheets underneath you trying not to buck his hips.  

“Get off of me, I’ll cum.” He says, almost panicked. “Your throat feels so good. Y-your mouth is so hot and it’s making me feel so good, can’t—I can’t. You gotta get off or—”  

His words of protest fall on deaf ears as you spread his legs even further. Wanting to make him feel better, you part them. 

 You’re greeted by pretty pink hole - already wet for you. A stream of spit follows as you pull off him. 

 Rafayel heaves in relief.  

“You got yourself ready,” You say, less than ask. Rafayel rolls his eyes.  

“So what if I did?” 

“I wanted to do it for you.” You reply, pretending to sulk. “Told you I wanted to spoil you.”  

He blushes further. “Don’t you have any sensibility? You’re doing more than enough. Being excessive, even.”  

“I don’t believe in being excessive when it comes to you,” You hum. Sitting up, you reach over the bedside table for a bottle of lube. You pour it in excess on your two fingers before coming back down between his legs. The bed creaks under your weight.  

Lube drips from your two fingers onto Rafayel’s hole, thick as you push the excess with two fingers. Both go in so smoothly it makes you smirk. He’s soft inside. It’s so easy for you to put both fingers inside of him, even easier to find his prostate - swollen from arousal. He must’ve fucked himself open like this on three fingers given how easily yours follow.  

“It’s so wet inside. You must’ve really wanted me to fuck you.”  

“So what if I—aah—did?”  

“Well, I wanted to take you apart nice and slow.” You say, slowly rubbing your fingers against his prostate, pleased by the little oh noises he makes when you. Cum spills from the tip immediately. He’s so sensitive. You divulge your plans to him as you stretch him. “First with my mouth once or twice.  I was going to save fucking you for the end  but—“ You push your fingers deeper. To the knuckle. His eyes shoot wide open before his voice breaks into a moan. “Since I’m making it up to you you, I was wondering if I should just cut the chase and make you cum on my cock over and over and over. Maybe you’d prefer that.”  

Rafayel’s eyes go wide. You feel a sense of accomplishment knowing without him telling you. He clears his throat, strangely sheepish.  

“It’s not like the other stuff feels bad or anything—“  

You make eye contact with him, sitting up on your knees. Your other hand cups the back of his neck as you press a third finger inside - fucking it in slowly. Rafayel moans unabashedly as you do. His skin is feverish as you press your forehead to his, noses brushing. The wet sound of you stretching him open makes you dizzy, shared breaths between you filling worsening your appetite for him.   

“It’s not what you want though, is it? Not today anyway.” You say, leaning close enough to kiss. You don’t follow through, your voice low on a whisper. “Tell me how you were picturing me fucking you in the shower. I’ll give you whatever you want today,”  

Rafayel seems to let go of the last threads of fight in him as you approach like this. You’re in the thick of your wanting for him. Your body and your mind hunger to make it feel so good it looks like carnage to everyone else. To be pleasured so ruthlessly he can barely move 

He’s rarely too shy but right now he’s in the depths of his desires. He moans sweetly like this. It’s not a sound you can coax out of him easily. It sounds so perfect still. Mouth fallen open, his hands finding purchase in the back of your shirt.  

“Want you to fuck me deeply,” He pants, like it’s straining to even thinking about it. “N-not too fast, but not too slow either. Want you, hngh,” Shivering, he tries to speak coherently as your eyes meet - lips barely touching but almost. “To p-praise me and—“  

You grin. “You want to pampered while I fuck this pretty little hole, right?”  

You push your fingers in harder. He whimpers. It’s loud and broken and makes grip on you tighter. He just nods. “Please. Fuck, please - need it now. In me, please.”  

It’s exactly the words you’re interested in hearing. You kiss him on the lips deeply. He sinks completely into the touch, malleable under your fingertips.  

“Shh, I know.” You hum, soothingly. Rafayel whines from the loss of contact as you pull your hand away.“You earned it. Just a little more.” 

You stand up again on your knee, stripping yourself of the remaining garments left on your body from the work day. You unhook your bra and take it off along with your tank top in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor. 

Next come your slacks, tight from the way you’ve tucked silicone cock up against your stomach to be ready to fuck. You put it on earlier while he bathed - tucking it in your pants to keep it out of the way. Seeing you unzip your work slacks and have a heavy silicone cock fall from them evokes a reaction in Rafayel that endears you endlessly. A bitten lip while a shiver wracks through him. 

Deciding your pants will get in the way, you make quick work of wriggling out of them completely before returning between Rafayel’s legs. You spit in your hand and stroke yourself with it, wetting your cock before letting it rest against Rafayel’s own. 

“How do you want it?” You ask.  

“Like this,” He says, unmoving. He seems certain on that end but he’s hesitating. “But I want you to…” 

He looks away. You try not to grin but fail.  

“You were being so bold a second ago,”  

He rolls his eyes. “Well a second ago someone was trying to rearrange my insides so I didn’t have to think very hard,”  

“So, should I do it again, then? I think we’ll get better results that way.”  

“You’re so noisy. I don’t pay you for this,” He pauses. “I want you to hug me while we… like be close to me.” 

You pause before smiling gently. You’re so charmed by the innocence of it. It’s so unlike him. Being away from you must’ve bothered him more than he cared to admit. Softening, instantly - you lean forward and press your lips to his forehead.  

“Sure. Anything else?”  

“Ugh. Not for now. But it’s annoying. I should be running you into the ground by now but here you are,” 

“Making good on my promise?,” You finish. Rafayel doesn’t refute you. You kiss his shoulder blade. “Anything you want today. I’m yours.”  

“Say it again,”  

“All yours.”  

He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down. “…Hurry up and fuck me then.”  

Complying with his wishes, you sit back on your knees as you line your cock up with Rafayel’s entrance and push. He gasps as you slide the fat head of your cock in, a wicked smile on your face as you watch his hole stretch out and around you. Three fingers is more than enough prep. It makes filling him so easy.  

Still, the stretch - the feeling of being full is nothing like just fingers. You watch as Rafayel’s body adjusts to  it. Inch by inch, you rock your hips forward gently until he’s swallowed your cock up half-way. He’s trembling as you lean forward. Waiting for you to bottom out before he pulls you forward for as much skin to skin as he can have. Your chest squishes against him.  

When his hips roll for you to go deeper, you take it as a sign. With all of your strength, you hold onto his waist bury yourself inside of him in another single thrust. His nails dig into your shoulder, his voice next to your ear as you. Tightening his grip, he cries out at the sudden movement 

You can feel him shake underneath you, cock clenching hard while you hold him.  

“Fuuck,”  He goes stone stiff underneath you before starting to tremor more violently. “Fuck, oh fuck.”  

Realization dawns on you a few seconds later. “Did—did you cum just from putting it in?”  

He opens his eyes and frowns at you.  

“Shut up. I didn’t get to cum earlier.”  

You laugh. “You’ll kill me being this cute. I don’t know what to do.”  

“I could give you an idea if you’re going to just sit there,”  

His impatience amuses you.  

“Sorry. I’ve got you. Cum as much as you want.”  

You anchor yourself, pulling out slowly and internally groaning at the resistance as you do. How his hole grips onto you so tight it feels nearly hard to move despite know how stretched he is. A phantom sensation fills your waist as you feel his stomach shift as you thrust.  

Heeding earlier requests, you use your hips to set a pace to fuck Rafayel the way he wants. The ins and outs of his body come naturally to you now. Finding the right pace, the right motion, the right angle - all come easier to you than you even remember. On muscle memory, you hike Rafayel’s legs up and begin to fuck him deep. Not too fast, not too slow - but consistent in grinding against that sweet spot. Deliberately thrusting your hips up, you try to direct all the remaining focus into fucking him as good as you can.  

You know you’ve hit the right places when his grip on you gets tighter. His legs locked around your back, Rafayel is a mess underneath you even when you’ve barely begun. Like he can’t stop cumming, his body helplessly wound as your hips clap his ass.  

The moans that come out of him, broken and sweet. More angelic then pornographic but lewd enough to make you dizzy with the urge to pin him up and fuck him harder. Groaning when you fuck him just right. You can feel his cock against your stomach with how close your bodies are as you grind - twitching. Pre-cum leaking in long spurts and wetting your skin. 

You coo at him feeling it start to be easier to fuck him.  

“It’s just like a pussy, huh? You take me so good inside of you. It feels like you were made for it,” You press kisses wherever your lips can find the skin. On his face, his mouth, on his shoulders. You can barely make sense of your own filth, your mind moving on it’s own as your body chases its own arousal. Your clit is grinding against the base of your strap-on so well like this, you could easily chase the high and find your own orgasm with seconds. You’re too busy paying attention to make well on it. “I like when you act cute like this. Usually you’d put up a fight about it but you’re asking without fuss. It’s precious seeing you fall apart on my cock.”  

He moans your name like an incantation, another dribble of cum spilling. He can’t stop cumming. Just shuddering beneath you, his face in your shoulder and panting like he can’t find the words.  

“All mine, yeah? Everything, all of you. It’s all mine to tend to, so you can be as selfish as you want.” You hum, encouraged by the whimpering repetition of please in his voice. He’s being so pliant, so good. You can’t help yourself. “Take when you need. Cum when it feels good for you. I want you to feel good. Want to make you feel so good you can’t stand it. Think you can do that? Come on,”  

Rafayel moans brokenly into your neck. “I’m g-gonna cum so hard, fuck—feels like I can’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me,” 

“Shh it’s okay. I wont stop until you tell me.” You tuck yourself against his neck, kissing it before biting his ear lobe. He gasps. “Don’t think about anything other than cumming for me.”  

“Fuck,” His nails dig into your biceps, coiling you around as you get close. “Fuck me. P-please—I’m cumming, I’m cu -“  

Rafayels whole body stiffens under the weight of your body. You fuck him steady, pinning him down as he cums. His cock pushes hard against your stomach, twitching helplessly as his cum spills in streams. His back curls up, gripping onto you tightly as he moans loud and unabashed, euphoria splintering through his muscles. You fuck him through it until he rides out his high - his body loosening up as soon as it passes.  

The sound of cum unsticking from your skin as you part from Rafayel makes you grin. You pull back out of slowly and get on your knees. You use your hand to wipe the cum off of your stomach and smear it against Rafayel’s hole.  

“You made a mess,” You say brightly. Rafayel pants, looking up at you. Before you can ask, his voice trembles. He weakly reaches for your hand.   

“Let me make you finish,” He says, abrupt. You blink at him owlishly. “Please.”  

“Isn’t this about you?”  

He frowns, looking at you seriously.  

“It is. And I’m telling you I want you sit on my face and cum on it. Please.”  

You give him a look before breaking out into a laugh. You stand onto your knees and undo the buckles of your harness - shimmying out of them. “I can’t refuse you if you ask like that but I don’t think it’ll be long.”  

“It’ll just be once for now,”  

“For now?”  

He nods matter-of-factly. “You still owe me after the crimes of neglect you’ve committed against me.”  

“Right.”  

“And I’ve decided I want to exercise my rights to eat pussy until sunrise.”  

“I see,” You say bemused. “And this is… revenge I take it? And not perhaps, an act of goodwill towards me.”  

“I have no reason to show you good will, do I?”  

You break out into more laughter. 

“Right. We’ll be even after today then, at least.”  

“Hurry,” Rafayel says again, after settling it. Same puppy dog look in his eyes as before, back in instant. You can’t help but be charmed by how quickly he reverts back into desiring your attention.  

Rafayel lays down as you take your strap-on off and crawl over towards him. Deciding you’re not done with him for the day - you stand on your knees just over his chest and spread your pussy apart for him to see. He’s not expecting it, evidenced by the way his eyes go wide at the sight. 

“Even without cumming, making you feel good turned me on this much. Is that what you were hoping to know?”  

Rafayel goes flush again. “I never said that.”  

“So difficult,” You hum. “Come on. Can I sit?”  

Rafayel barely masks his enthusiasm as he nods. You crawl over him further before carefully setting yourself above his face. You try to avoid letting the full weight rest on him, but Rafayels hands are on you in an instant. With the same desperate grip he had while you were fucking him, he pulls your thighs down until your pussy is in his mouth - tongue out and lapping up wetness instantly. You shiver at the desperate movement of his tongue. 

It gets your body hot all over again. Your fingers thread through the purple strands of hair for anchor as you push yourself against his willing mouth like you’re fucking his face. Your own desires hadn’t crossed your mind until now, but now that you’re aware of it - that familiar restless lust returns to you tenfold You shiver as the familiar flames of arousal stoke back up inside of you.  

Your gut honeyed, sticky lust making your limbs feel thick. You use your other hand to tweak your nipples as you rock your hips back and forth. Rafayel lies underneath you obediently, eagerly - his hands helping you move at the pace you want without complaint. He always manages to surprise you. His willingness to give to you making you feel weak in the knees.  

Already so worked up, it takes you hardly any time to reach your climax. You feel it in your waist, body going slack as the knot inside of your stomach uncoils. You let out a short cry, hands tightening in Rafayel’s hair as you cum all over his face - swearing as you do. You feel Rafayel moan against you, reverberating through you as you ride out your high and finish.  

You pull away from his sated, pulling back to see him wiping his chin before licking his fingers. The look in his eyes sends an amused sort of arousal through you.  

“You look like you’re going to eat me.” You say. Rafayel nods.  

“I mean… I’m certainly trying.”  

You laugh tiredly, swiping your thumb against his cheek with a smile.  

“After we clean up and have dinner,” You say. “I have some mandatory time off so I won’t be called in.”  

“I won’t let you sleep,” He says, clingy again - face pressed against your thigh. You grin. His many moods make you so weak to him. 

You bend down to kiss his forehead.  

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  

✮ a/n ; rafayel fans . let me know if this was okay im lacking confidence but i had writing him. i want to keep like a spoiled housecat maybe.

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent. 

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin' 

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy. 

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you. 

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit. 

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit. 

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable. 

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes. 

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice. 

They don’t. 

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest. 

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him. 

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever. 

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now. 

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?” 

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?” 

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now. 

“Sure.” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop. 

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.” 

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens. 

“Let’s hear it then.” 

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been—well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—” 

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?” 

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort. 

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word. 

“You wanna do something for me?” 

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking. 

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.” 

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift. 

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---” 

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe. 

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you. 

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant. 

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new. 

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.” 

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place. 

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you. 

“I think you know what I mean.” 

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed. 

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.” 

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind. 

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.” 

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head. 

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.” 

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room. 

“Uh, are you talking about sex?” 

“Yep.” 

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date. 

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little. 

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug. 

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze. 

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation. 

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.” 

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation. 

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it. 

You hope he meant it. 

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless. 

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass. 

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming. 

The next day, you’re still tense. 

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts. 

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting. 

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality. 

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings. 

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight. 

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill. 

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard. 

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs. 

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting. 

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy. 

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air. 

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait. 

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something. 

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care. 

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better. 

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now. 

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss. 

“I know.” 

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body. 

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans. 

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine. 

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe. 

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time. 

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.” 

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding. 

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low. 

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush. 

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet. 

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine. 

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond. 

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.” 

“Oh, shit.” 

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?” 

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.” 

“Yes.” 

“Great.” 

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise. 

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears. 

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity. 

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?” 

“Mmm,” is all you can manage. 

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.” 

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink. 

“Gonna–ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you. 

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison. 

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up. 

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.” 

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

click here for more of my writing

please let me know if you liked this!

let me know if you wanna be tagged for more joel fantasies

divider credit

taglist:

@lovely-vamp-princess @mushgloomz @untamedheart81 @kyloispunk

[strnilolover]

dealer!chris takes care of soft!reader after she accidentally takes an edible

warnings : edible. weed. reader is high for the first time. little bit of a freak out. and more?

“chris,” you murmured, your voice shaky as your body leaned up against the wooden frame of his bedroom door. your wide eyes darted around the room, not quite focusing on anything. “i don’t feel right.”

he was on his feet instantly, crossing the room to you. “what do you mean? what happened?”

your bottom lip quivered as you clutched the edge of the doorframe for balance. “i… i ate something. from the kitchen.” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts, though your words came out slow and slurred. “it was a brownie… in a bag… and now i feel weird.”

chris froze. he didn’t need to ask which brownie you meant. he’d left them on the counter for a friend to pick up later—edibles that were definitely not meant for you. his stomach dropped.

“angel,” he said cautiously, running a hand through his hair. “that wasn’t a normal brownie.” your brows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? it tasted normal.”

“it had weed in it,” he explained, his tone gentle. “a lot of weed. those are for people who’ve, y’know, built up a tolerance. not for someone who’s never smoked in their life.”

you blinked at him, the information processing in slow motion. then, your hands flew to your face. “oh my god. am i gonna die?”

chris bit back a laugh, his worry softening into affection. “no, babe. you’re not gonna die. you’re just really, really high right now.”

your shoulders sagged in relief, but only for a moment before panic set in again. “i don’t like it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i feel like my body’s not mine, and my thoughts won’t stop racing.”

his heart ached at the fear in your eyes. “okay, come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the bed. “sit down. i’ve got you.”

you leaned away from the door fran, your feet dragging against the floor as you made your way to the bed. you sat obediently, but your hands fidgeted in your lap. “chris, everything feels… big. like my hands, my feet, my head.”

he crouched in front of you, his hands gently covering yours to still them. “hey, look at me,” he said, his voice steady. “you’re okay. i promise. you’re just feeling things more intensely right now, but it’s all in your head. i’m here, and i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, clinging to his words. “promise?”

“i promise,” he said, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “i’m gonna help you through this, alright?” you nodded again, leaning into his touch. “okay.”

“good. now, first things first—water.” he stood, turning and walking out of his door—disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, a cold washcloth.

“drink this,” he said, handing you the water. “and take small sips, okay? don’t chug it.” you followed his instructions, the cool water soothing your dry throat. chris sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders, grounding you with his presence.

bringing the glass away from your lips, you hand it to chris. he takes it gently, setting it on his bedside table before returning his attention to you.

you managed a weak laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “i don’t get how people like this. my brain won’t shut up. i keep thinking about… about how time feels stretchy. Is that normal?” you ask, your words coming out slowly.

“yeah, that’s normal,” he said reassuringly. “it’s just the weed messing with your perception. it’ll pass. you’re safe.” you let out a shaky breath, sinking further into his side. “you’re really good at this,” you mumbled.

chris smiled, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “i’ve been around enough people to know what to do. next time, ask me before you eat random stuff, yeah?” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

he laughed, pulling your hands away to press a kiss to your forehead. “nah. it’s kinda cute, honestly. no need to be embarrassed baby.” his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “now lay down. rest a bit. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

you did as he said, turning out of his hold to crawl up in the bed—chris following as you curled up on his bed. his body slotted next to yours, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. the water started to help, and his steady presence calmed the storm in your mind.

“chris?” you murmured after a while, your voice drowsy. he looked down at you, tugging you closer. “yeah?”

“thanks for taking care of me,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shifted—laying on your side as your own arms wrapped around his middle. your face snuggling into his chest.

he smiled, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “always, baby. always.”

[itsnesss]

hii maybe a yandere!junho ?? I cant stop thinking about him 😩 i love your writing btw💕

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you wake up restrained in a small room, facing jun-ho, who reveals his obsessive love for you. his yandere tendencies surface as he believes he's protecting you from the world. you must navigate his dangerous devotion and find a way to escape

warnings | junho!yandere, kidnapping/restraint, psychological manipulation

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up with a start, the cold floor chilling your bones. It’s hard to remember how you got here. The faint flicker of a hanging light bulb illuminates the room. It’s a small, almost claustrophobic space, with gray concrete walls. In front of you, sitting on an old metal chair, is him: Jun-ho. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Finally awake," he says in a serene voice, but it’s loaded with something else, something unsettling. "Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?"

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"What… what’s going on?"

He smiles, and the gesture should comfort you, but there’s something strange in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

"I saved you," he replies, leaning forward. "They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen."

"They? What are you talking about?" you ask, your heart pounding rapidly.

You try to move, but your wrists are tied with a thick scarf. You look at Jun-ho in disbelief.

"This… this isn’t real."

He slowly gets to his feet, brushing his hands off like he’s just finished an important task.

"Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever look at you that way again."

His voice, though soft, has a sharp edge. Memories begin to return in fragmented flashes. The last time you saw him was at the café near your workplace. He was always there, sitting at the same table with his black coffee, watching you. There was something about him that unsettled you but also intrigued you, like a mystery impossible to ignore.

"Jun-ho… why am I here?" you manage to ask, though the answer seems clear in your mind.

He leans closer, dangerously close. His warm breath brushes against your face, and you can smell the faint aroma of coffee he always carried.

"Because I love you."

The confession hits you like a punch. You instinctively recoil, but you can’t go far because of the restraints.

"Love me? This isn’t love…" you say, trying to stay calm.

His expression hardens.

"Not love?" he repeats, as if tasting the words for the first time. He paces around you, each step echoing in the small room. "Didn’t you see me? I was always there, watching over you, protecting you from all those men who didn’t deserve you."

"Jun-ho… this isn’t right. Let me go, please."

He stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. His touch is firm but not rough.

"Not right?" he murmurs near your ear. "Isn’t it right to want the best for the person you love?"

Your body tenses. The danger in his voice is palpable.

"If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this," you try to reason with him.

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes you tremble.

"You don’t understand. This is for you. For us. You can’t keep living in that world full of people who don’t value you. I’m the only one who can."

"It’s not your decision…" you protest, but he moves quickly in front of you, leaning down until his eyes are level with yours.

"Of course, it’s my decision. Because no one else cares as much as I do."

His gaze is so intense it feels like it could pierce your soul. His obsession is undeniable, but behind it, you see something else: pain, loneliness, desperation.

"Jun-ho, listen… you don’t have to do this. We can talk, find a solution," you say, trying to keep your voice gentle, though inside, you’re terrified.

He smiles again, but this time there’s sadness in his eyes.

"You’ve always been so kind… so understanding. But you don’t get it. If I let you go, they’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"Who are they?" you ask, hoping to buy time to think of a way out.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps back a few paces, as if lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Everyone. Everyone who tried to get close to you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you."

The air feels heavier. The idea of what he might have done to "protect" you starts to sink in.

"What did you do, Jun-ho?"

He looks at you, and for the first time, he seems vulnerable.

"What I had to."

His words are simple, but the weight behind them leaves you breathless. Your mind fills with horrible images, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Jun-ho… let me help you. This doesn’t have to go on like this."

He shakes his head.

"I don’t need help. I’ve already done everything necessary."

You start to notice a slight tremor in his hands, as if guilt is beginning to catch up with him.

"If you really love me… trust me. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."

For a moment, it seems like your words are reaching him. He lowers his gaze, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. But then, he straightens up, and his expression hardens again.

"I can’t risk it. If I let you go, you’ll go back to that world… and I can’t allow that."

Desperation grips you. You need to find a way to make him see reason before it’s too late.

"What do you want, Jun-ho? What do you really want?" you ask, trying to keep his attention.

He steps closer again, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I just want you to be mine."

His answer feels like a sentence, and you know words won’t be enough to change his mind. But you can’t give up. Not now.

"Jun-ho, if you keep going down this path, we’ll never truly be together. This isn’t love. It’s fear."

The word seems to affect him. He takes a step back, his gaze faltering.

"Fear?" he repeats, as if trying to process it.

You nod, even though the fear in your own heart threatens to overwhelm you.

"You’re afraid of losing me. But keeping me here isn’t the solution. If you love me, trust me."

The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, Jun-ho sighs and lowers his head.

"I don’t want to lose you…" he admits, almost in a whisper.

"You won’t," you reply, summoning all the conviction you can. "But you have to trust me."

For a moment, you think you’ve reached him. But then he lifts his gaze, and his expression is a storm of emotions.

"Fine," he finally says, with an eerie calm. "But if I let you go, promise me you’ll never abandon me."

Your heart stops. You know any wrong response could trigger something worse.

"I promise we’ll talk about this. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

Jun-ho stares at you, assessing you. Finally, he pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ties around your wrists.

"Don’t make me regret this," he warns.

You rub your aching wrists and look at him carefully. Every move has to be calculated.

"I won’t," you respond, though your mind is already planning how to escape this place.

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (i) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky’s birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa….

word count: 6.6k

warnings: its just fluff, secret birthday planning & a lot of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. i’m thinking of making it a three part series.

masterlist | next part

Steve Rogers looked across the table at you, arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. The room felt warm and quiet despite the weight of the conversation, the faint hum of Stark Tech monitors filling the silence as your words lingered in the air.

Sam Wilson sat across from you, leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in mild skepticism, but there was something softer in his expression—something almost amused.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sam began, tilting his head toward you. “Your brilliant idea for Bucky’s birthday is to—what—borrow Tony’s time machine, go back to the 1940s, and hang out with his family?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the edge of the table. Your voice had a determined edge, but your eyes betrayed a flicker of nervous energy. “I mean… think about it, Sam. When was the last time Bucky had a real family celebration? A moment where he wasn’t running from Hydra or fighting for his life or—” you paused, chewing your bottom lip—“feeling like he’s some kind of burden on the people around him?”

Steve straightened in his chair, his sharp blue eyes shifting from Sam to you. There was a stillness to him, like he was processing your words as if they were mission intel. “You’re not wrong,” he said finally, his voice calm but measured. “But it’s not exactly simple. Time travel isn’t… well, it’s not just a weekend getaway.”

“I know that,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he could build up steam. “I know it’s not simple, Steve, but it’s worth it. You know what this would mean to him. To see his mom & sisters, Steve. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as well, as a slow grin spread across his face. “Y’know,” he said, pointing a finger at you, “I thought this idea was crazy at first, but now I’m starting to think you’re just crazy enough to pull it off. The question is, how do you convince Stark to hand over the keys to his fancy time machine?”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan for that,” you said, brushing off Sam’s teasing tone with a wave of your hand. “Tony owes me. Big time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” You smirked, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression. “Let’s just say it involves a highly classified Avengers mission, a stray cat, and one very expensive pair of Tony’s sunglasses.”

Sam barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Okay, now I definitely want to know.”

“It’s not important!” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. “The point is, I can get Tony on board. But I need you two to back me up. He’s not going to go for this unless he knows it’s not just some ‘sentimental whim.’” You air-quoted the words dramatically, your voice dropping into a passable imitation of Stark’s dry tone.

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that said he was almost convinced but still holding out for the catch. “Let’s say you get Tony to agree. How exactly are you planning to make this work? The timeline has rules. You can’t just drop in on the 1940s like it’s a costume party.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that. Look, I’ve been thinking this through. We’d be careful. In and out, no interference with the timeline. Just… a quiet visit with his family. Maybe a week, max. Enough time for him to have a real birthday celebration. I mean, wouldn’t you want that if you were in his shoes?”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze settling on a spot on the wall. For a moment, the room went quiet. Sam exchanged a glance with you, his humor softening into something more thoughtful. Steve’s voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but firm. “Yeah. I would.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out across the table, your hand brushing against Steve’s. “Then you understand why this is so important. He’s been through so much, Steve. We all know that. He deserves to feel important.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re laying it on thick. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re whipped for the guy.”

Your face went red, but you didn’t back down. “Of course I’m whipped for him Sam, I’m in love with him. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Steve and Sam both froze, their expressions caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

Steve blinked, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, his voice low, “I can’t argue with that.”

Sam recovered first, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re really pulling the romance card, huh?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your voice. “Are you in or not?”

Sam laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m in, I’m in. You had me at ‘time machine.’”

Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “But we do this by the book. No cutting corners, no unnecessary risks. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said quickly, your eyes bright with excitement. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.”

“Alright, so what’s the next step? Do we just march into Stark Tower and ask Tony for a favour.” Sam clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Because I’ve gotta say, I don’t think the guy’s gonna go for it without some serious persuasion.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’ve got a plan.”

Later that evening, the three of you stood in Tony’s lab, the soft glow of holographic displays casting blue light across the room. Tony Stark was pacing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” he said, stopping mid-stride to look at you. “You want me to loan you my multi-billion-dollar time travel machine so you can throw a birthday party in the 1940s?”

“Not just a party,” you corrected, your tone matter-of-fact. “A family reunion. For Bucky.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You know, when I built this thing, I had slightly higher ambitions in mind. Like, oh, I don’t know, saving the universe?”

“This is saving the universe,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “His universe.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s important, Tony. For Bucky. He hasn’t seen his family since the war. This would mean everything to him.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You people really know how to tug at the ol’ heartstrings, don’t you?”

Sam smirked. “Comes with the territory.”

There was a long pause, and then Tony shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But if you break it, you buy it. And by ‘it,’ I mean the space-time continuum.”

You beamed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room had brightened. “Thank you, Tony. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving you off. “Just don’t make me regret it. And keep Rogers out of trouble while you’re at it. Don’t want him to end up fighting someone in the alley.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He had a feeling this was going to be one birthday Bucky would never forget.

That evening, the living room of the Avengers Compound had never felt so cramped. Steve sat in his usual spot, his arms stretched over the back of the couch, trying to look casual while his stomach twisted with the weight of your not-so-secretive plan.

Next to him, you perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, your knee bouncing nervously as your eyes flicked between the TV and Sam. The movie playing on the screen was some action flick that none of you were actually watching—except maybe Bucky, who was obliviously sprawled out on the recliner, munching on popcorn.

Steve couldn’t help but glance at Bucky every few seconds, half expecting him to suddenly leap up and call their bluff. It was a ridiculous fear, considering how utterly relaxed Bucky seemed, but it didn’t stop Steve’s heart from racing every time Bucky so much as turned his head.

Sam, seated on the armrest of the couch, leaned over toward you and murmured under his breath, his tone just loud enough for Steve to catch. “So, what’s the next move, mastermind?”

Your lips twitched into a quick, nervous smile as you shot him a sideways glance. “We need to talk to Strange,” you whispered, your voice low but brimming with determination. “But we have to be careful. Bucky can’t know. Not even a hint.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and slouched slightly, doing his best impression of someone who actually cared about the car chase on the screen.

“Can you two stop whispering?” Steve whispered yelled, though his voice lacked any real authority. He reached for the remote, fiddling with the volume button and turned it up. “If you’re going to conspire, at least don’t do it two feet away from him.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “What do you want us to do, Steve? Write notes and pass them like we’re in fifth grade?”

Sam smirked, leaning closer to you. “I mean, it might be safer. He’s got super-hearing. For all we know, he’s—”

“Sam,” Steve cut in, his tone warning, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not helping.”

Bucky, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him, let out a low chuckle at something on the screen. Steve froze, his eyes darting to you, and you looked like you were about to jump out of your skin. Your eyes flicked back to Sam, then to Steve, your expression screaming this is impossible.

“Alright, alright,” Sam said quietly, lifting his hands in surrender. “Let’s just get out of here before you two have a nervous breakdown. We can go talk to Strange.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the excuse to move things along. “Good idea,” he said, standing and stretching like he’d just remembered an urgent errand. “We’ll, uh, be back in a bit, Buck.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked casually, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You froze, your face an open book of panic, and Steve jumped in before you could flounder. “Oh, uh… just running an errand. These two are just tagging along for backup.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, finally turning his attention away from the movie to look at you. “Backup? For what?”

“Moral support?” you stated hesitantly.

Sam snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement before he covered it up with a cough.

Bucky gave you all a skeptical once-over but eventually shrugged, settling back into his chair. “Whatever. Just don’t die out there.”

“Got it,” you blurted, grabbing Sam’s arm and practically dragging him toward the door. Steve followed, his stomach knotting tighter with every step.

The three of you didn’t speak until you were outside and halfway to Steve’s SUV.

Sam finally broke the silence with a low whistle. “That was smooth. Real smooth.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks still flushed. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Sam replied, grinning as he climbed into the back seat.

Steve rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door for you to get in & sit, his patience already wearing thin.

Once you were on the road, the tension in the car started to ease, though Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line. You sat beside him, fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you stared out the window. You looked nervous but determined, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Steve studied you for a moment, his mind drifting to all the times he’d seen that same look on your face. It was the look you got when you were planning something big—something you believed in with your whole heart. He couldn’t help but admire you for it, even if it made him nervous.

“So,” Sam said, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his seat, “what’s the game plan with Strange? You gonna sweet-talk him like you did with Stark?”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the window to look at Sam. “I don’t think Strange is the ‘sweet-talk’ type.”

“Good point,” Sam said with a grin. “So what’s the backup plan? Bribery? Begging? Threats?”

“None of the above,” you said firmly. “I’m just going to explain the plan and hope he understands.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No clever strategy? No emotional appeals? You’re really putting all your eggs in the ‘logic and reason’ basket?”

Steve cut in before you could retort. “She’s right. Strange isn’t the kind of guy you can manipulate. He’ll respect honesty.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. You were stubborn, sure, but you were also smart—smarter than you gave yourself credit for sometimes.

When you arrived outside the Sanctum Sanctorum, you were the first to get out of the car, despite the nervous energy radiating off you. Steve followed close behind, with Sam bringing up the rear, muttering something under his breath about “mystical nonsense.”

Stephan Strange greeted you at the door, his expression unreadable as always. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, the red of his cloak catching the door light in a way that made him look almost regal.

“This better be important,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I don’t have time for casual visits.”

You stepped forward, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. “It is important. I promise.”

Strange raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the two men behind you. “Alright. Come in.”

The inside of the Sanctum was just as strange and imposing as Steve remembered. You seemed unfazed, though he noticed you glancing around with a mix of curiosity and awe.

“So,” Strange said once you were seated in his study, “what’s this all about?”

You took a deep breath, your hands resting in your lap. “I want to use the time travel machine Tony built to take Bucky back to the 1940s for his birthday.”

Strange blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “That’s… specific.”

“It’s important,” you said quickly, leaning forward slightly. “I just want him to have a chance to see his family again. To know they’re okay. And I promise we won’t do anything to change the timeline. No interference, no big disruptions. Just… a visit.”

Strange studied you for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re asking me to approve a plan that involves traveling to the past and interacting with people who are supposed to remain unaware of future events. Do you understand how delicate this is?”

“I do,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’ve thought it through. The only thing I plan to do is explain to his family what happened to him—why he disappeared. They deserve to know he’s okay, even if they never see him again. And when I bring him there, it’ll just be for a week. A chance for him to see his family once.”

Strange’s gaze flicked to Steve, then to Sam, as if gauging their reactions. “And you’re both on board with this?”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my birthday, but if it makes Bucky happy, I’m all for it.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It’s risky, but I trust her. She won’t let anything happen to the timeline.”

“You’re lucky I’ve seen weirder requests.” Strange said letting out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. As long as you stick to your word and don’t try to rewrite history, I won’t stop you.”

Your face lit up, and Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. Strange wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, but he’d clearly seen something in your determination that convinced him.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Strange waved you off, his tone dry as usual. “Just don’t make me regret it. And for the love of all things sacred, don’t try to save Barnes from falling of the train in the past. You’ll just make things worse.”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly. “This is about giving him something good now, not changing what’s already happened.”

“Good,” Strange said, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Now get out of my Sanctum before I change my mind.”

As you walked back to the car, your steps were lighter, almost bouncing. You turned to Steve and Sam, a wide grin on your face. “That went better than I expected.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, thanks to your sales pitch.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t lose your smile. For the first time all day, you felt a genuine sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this plan was going to work.

Okay, see the thing was Steve had witnessed his fair share of devotion in his lifetime. He had seen love in wartime letters clutched tightly in trembling hands, in quiet glances exchanged across rooms, and even in the sacrifices people made for each other on the battlefield.

But nothing—not in the 1940s, not in the decades since—compared to the sheer, shameless fervor of your love for Bucky Barnes.

He leaned back against the counter of the kitchen, arms crossed, as he watched you chatter animatedly with Sam and Natasha, your eyes alight with that unmistakable spark. You had this way of talking about Bucky that made it impossible not to notice the utter adoration woven into your every word.

It wasn’t just love; it was full-blown, unapologetic obsession.

“And then,” you said, your hands moving wildly as you recounted some small, undoubtedly inconsequential moment, “he just sat there, all broody, like he was single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. And I said, ‘Bucky, you don’t have to pretend to be a tortured poet every time it rains!’” You grinned, clearly delighted with your own story. “He didn’t laugh, of course, but I swear I saw his lip twitch.”

Natasha smirked, sipping her coffee. “Sounds like a real charmer.”

“Oh, he is,” you said, beaming as though Nat’s comment had been an actual compliment. “You just have to get past the murdery vibe, you know? It’s all part of his charm.”

Sam snorted so loudly that Steve thought he might choke on his drink. “Murdery vibe? That’s the phrase you’re going with to describe your boyfriend?”

“It’s accurate!” you insisted, unbothered by the teasing. “You just don’t understand him the way I do. Beneath all that scowling and brooding, he’s—”

“A ray of sunshine?” Natasha interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” you said brightly, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, again. “He’s my sunshine.”

Steve suppressed a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved you—he really did—but hearing you wax poetic about his grumpy, perpetually unimpressed best friend was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t the first time, either. In fact, it was a near-daily occurrence.

What astounded Steve the most, though, was how far you were willing to go for Bucky.

Time Travel.

Literal time travel, just so Bucky could have one good birthday with the family he’d lost decades ago. Steve wasn’t sure if it was romantic or utterly insane—probably a mix of both. Either way, he couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“So,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “how’s the time travel plan coming along? Did Strange give you the green light?”

“Green as it gets,” you said, practically bouncing in your seat. “He said it wouldn’t mess up the timeline as long as we’re careful. I mean, no big hero moves, no trying to rewrite history, and definitely no saving Bucky in the past.” You paused, your face briefly clouding with thought. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, but you know… rules.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Man, you really would mess with the space-time continuum for him, wouldn’t you?”

You turned to him, your expression dead serious. “In a heartbeat.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the sound low and amused. “Y’know, I’ve seen people go to some crazy lengths for the people they love, but this…” He gestured vaguely, as if words couldn’t quite capture the enormity of your plan. “This might take the cake.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “Steve, if you could go back and give Peggy one more dance, wouldn’t you?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, his chest tightening as the image of Peggy Carter flickered in his mind. He didn’t answer right away, but you didn’t push him. You just gave him a knowing look, your eyes full of understanding.

“Alright, fine,” Nat cut in, breaking the heavy silence. “Let’s not get all sentimental. You still have one problem, genius. Tony Stark. What’s the plan for getting him on board?”

“We already got Tony on board,” you said smugly, folding your arms as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You? You convinced Tony Stark to let you borrow his precious time machine?”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “I just told him it was for Bucky’s birthday, and he rolled his eyes and said, ‘Fine, but if you break it, you’re paying for it.’ Honestly, I think he secretly likes the idea. He’d never admit it, but you know how he is.”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Sam, her expression halfway between impressed and incredulous. “I can’t believe Stark fell for that.”

“Oh, he didn’t ‘fall for it,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just pretends to be all grumpy and detached, but deep down, he’s a big softie.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Man, I think you’ve got a thing for grumpy guys.”

“Only one grumpy guy,” you said, your smile softening. “And he’s worth it.”

Steve looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t used to seeing someone care about Bucky like this—someone who saw him as more than just the Winter Soldier or the guy with a past too dark to talk about.

You saw Bucky. The real Bucky. And you loved him for it.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony strolled in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “What’s all this about me being a softie?” he asked, his tone dry as he leaned against the counter.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re a grumpy softie. Big difference.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, I’d revoke your time-travel privileges.”

“Softie,” you said, waving him off.

Tony smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention to Steve. “So, Captain Sentimental, are you ready to supervise this little field trip? Because I am not cleaning up any timeline messes.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?”

Tony looked you over, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re really doing all this for Barnes?”

You nodded, your eyes shining. “He deserves it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, his usual sarcasm melting away. “Well, good luck, sunshine. Try not to get too lost in the 1940s.”

As Tony left the room, the conversation drifted to logistics—timing, equipment, and all the little details that needed to be ironed out before the mission. But even as you talked, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said.

Sunshine.

Steve glanced at you, watching as you leaned over a map on the table, your brow furrowed in concentration. You might not have realized it, but Tony was right. You really were a ray of sunshine—Bucky’s sunshine, in the darkest corners of his life.

And for that, Steve couldn’t be more grateful.

A few hours later, Steve sat on a folding chair, leaning back slightly as he gazed at the clear night sky. The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint hum of the compound below and the soft rustling of the wind.

Beside him, Bucky nursed a beer, his metal fingers absently turning the bottle in his hand, the soft clink of metal on glass barely audible. Sam was sprawled out in another chair, his legs stretched long, an empty bottle balanced precariously on his knee.

The silence was companionable, broken only by the occasional sip or the muffled sound of Sam muttering about how the stars weren’t visible like this back in D.C. Steve let himself relax for a moment, the crisp air cool against his skin. But, as usual, his thoughts wandered to you and your relentless energy over the past few weeks.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head toward Bucky, “your girlfriend is disgustingly obsessed with you.”

Bucky choked on his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed the wrong way. “What?” he said, laughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Steve smirked, taking a sip from his bottle. “I’m just saying. It’s impressive, honestly. I’ve never seen anyone so… determined to adore someone.”

“Yeah, man. She’s got it bad. Like, embarrassing bad.” Sam laughed outright, his deep chuckle rolling into the night.

Bucky leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head, the grin softening into something fonder. “She’s been like that since day one. But hey, I can’t say much—I’m just as bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Sam said, raising his bottle in mock toast. “Two of you are a real power couple of mutual obsession.”

Bucky just chuckled, his eyes flicking up toward the sky as silence fell over the group again. Steve let it linger, his thoughts wandering to how Bucky’s face softened every time you entered a room, or how his mood lifted when you were around. It was a strange thing to see—the hardened Winter Soldier so easily disarmed by one person—but Steve couldn’t deny how much you had changed Bucky.

Maybe even saved him.

After a few minutes, Bucky spoke up, his voice quieter now. “She’s planning something, isn’t she?”

Sam, mid-sip, choked on his beer, his coughing fit loud enough to make Steve wince. “What?” Sam rasped, pounding a fist against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, keeping his face neutral despite the mild panic rising in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Bucky turned to him, his expression amused. “Oh, come on, Steve. She’s been vibrating with energy for weeks. Every time she looks at me, she lights up brighter than the damn sun. She’s up to something.”

Steve fought to keep his expression steady, his mind racing for an answer. He couldn’t exactly tell Bucky the truth—that you were plotting a time-traveling birthday reunion with his long-dead family. Instead, he opted for the simplest approach: deflect. “Could be just a coincidence.”

Wow Steve well done, what a deflect. Idiot!

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, because her suddenly acting like a kid on Christmas has nothing to do with the fact that my birthday’s coming up.”

Steve’s lips twitched. He wanted to feel annoyed at how sharp Bucky could be, but mostly he was impressed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. Maybe she’s just excited.”

Sam cleared his throat, raising his hands as if in surrender. “Listen, man, I love my life, so I’m not spilling anything. But if she’s planning something, it’s probably just a good old-fashioned birthday party. Cake, candles, maybe some embarrassing speeches. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve nodded, grateful for Sam’s quick thinking. “Exactly. Nothing big. She probably just wants to make it special.”

Bucky studied them both for a moment, his blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I know she’s up to something.”

Steve exhaled, letting some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Bucky didn’t know. Not really. And as long as they kept playing it cool, he wouldn’t find out until the time was right.

That was when they heard it: your voice, ringing out from somewhere below, loud and unmistakable. “Baby! Come down, I need your help with something!”

Sam froze, his bottle halfway to his lips, before glancing at Bucky with a grin that was entirely too pleased. “Baby, huh?”

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She had to call you that now?”

Bucky’s grin stretched wide, his expression a mix of amusement and pride. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, his voice louder than yours. “I’ll be down in a minute, babydoll!”

Steve closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. A six-foot-three super soldier—grumpy, broody, intimidating Bucky Barnes—was casually calling you “babydoll” in front of them like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sam, predictably, couldn’t contain his laughter. “Babydoll?” he repeated, his voice cracking with amusement. “Man, I’ve heard it all now.”

Bucky shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “What can I say? She likes it.”

“And you like her calling you ‘baby,’” Steve added, his tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“Damn right I do,” Bucky said, standing up and stretching. “You two can sit up here and laugh all you want, but I’ve got a girl waiting for me. Try not to get too jealous.”

As he disappeared down the stairs, Sam turned to Steve, still grinning. “You know,” he said, shaking his head, “for a guy who used to be Hydra’s deadliest weapon, he’s real soft now.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got someone who loves you like she does.”

Sam nodded, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s good for him.”

Steve looked out at the stars, his mind drifting again. He couldn’t help but agree. For the first time in a long time, Bucky had someone who saw him—not as a soldier or a weapon, but as a man worth loving. And that, Steve thought, was the best gift anyone could ever give him.

Somewhere in 1946, Brooklyn.

The modest brownstone on Brooklyn’s east side stood in quiet defiance of the bustling world around it. Mrs. Winnifred Barnes—Winnie to her late husband and close friends—sat at the small kitchen table, her hands folded tightly together, a pot of tea growing cold on the counter. The house was too quiet now, emptier than it had ever been. Rebecca was at school, and though she tried to keep the chatter alive when she was home, it couldn’t fill the void left behind by James.

Her boy.

It had been several months since the letter arrived, stamped with the insignia of the United States Army. The words blurred in her mind even now, but the message was clear: Missing in Action. Presumed Dead.

Her James. Her troublemaker, her beautiful boy with his wide grin and steady blue eyes. Gone. And no one could even tell her how, or where, or if he’d suffered.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers curling tighter. Every time she thought she had no more tears left to cry, the ache returned, fresh and sharp as ever. But this time, something else lingered—a strange sense of unease, like the air had shifted. It was quiet, but not in the usual way.

Something was coming.

The knock at the door startled her. It was brisk, not hesitant like the neighbors checking in or the pastor bringing by a casserole. Winnie frowned, wiping her hands on her apron as she rose. Her steps were measured, careful, as though the visitor might vanish if she approached too quickly.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a sight that immediately threw her off balance. The young woman standing there looked as though she had stepped out of some dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

Your clothes were strange, fitted in ways Winnie couldn’t quite comprehend, and your hair was loose and flowing in a style that seemed almost scandalous. But it was your eyes that caught Winnie most—a peculiar mix of softness and urgency.

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked, your voice steady but kind.

Winnie hesitated, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Who’s asking?”

You smiled faintly, “I… I need to speak with you. It’s about James.”

Winnie’s heart clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. “James?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“May I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle but insistent. “I promise it’ll make sense. I just need a moment of your time.”

Winnie hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping aside. Something in your voice—or perhaps the way you said James’ name—demanded trust, though it made no sense at all.

The kitchen felt smaller with you standing there, your presence filling the room in a way Winnie couldn’t quite explain. She gestured toward the table, and you sat down without hesitation, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Winnie remained standing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as though bracing herself.

“What do you know about my son?” Winnie asked, her voice firmer now, tinged with suspicion. “The Army already sent their letter. Unless you’re here with new information—”

“I am. There’s something you should know.” you interrupted, your eyes meeting Winnie’s with unwavering determination. “I know this is going to come as a shock but Mrs. Barnes, James isn’t dead.”

The words landed like a bombshell, shattering the fragile quiet of the room. Winnie felt her knees threaten to buckle, but she forced herself to stand tall. “What did you say?”

“He’s alive,” you said softly. “It’s a long story, and I know it’s going to sound… unbelievable. But I promise you, every word is true.”

Winnie sank into the chair opposite you, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain you could hear it. “You’d better start talking, young lady.”

You nodded, your hands tightening briefly on the edge of the table before you began. “When James fell from the train, he survived the fall. But… he didn’t come home because Hydra found him first.”

“Hydra?” Winnie repeated, frowning.

“They were… they are… a very bad group of people,” you explained, your voice tightening. “They were part of the war, working in secret. When they found James, they… they took him. He was badly injured—he lost his left arm—but they didn’t care about helping him. They used him.”

Winnie’s throat went dry, her chest tightening painfully. “Used him? For what?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your words pressing visibly on your shoulders. “They replaced his arm with a metal one. And then… they brainwashed him. They erased who he was and turned him into someone else. They forced him to do terrible things—things he would never have done if he’d had a choice.”

Winnie stared at you, her hands trembling. “You’re telling me… my boy’s been alive all this time, and he’s been… tortured?”

“It’s worse than that,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “They put him in cryo-freeze, a kind of suspended animation. It keeps the body from aging. They would wake him up every now and then, make him do their missions, and then put him back on ice. He was never in control, Mrs. Barnes. Not once.”

The room seemed to tilt, and Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand. If all this is true, why hasn’t he come home? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

“He couldn’t,” you said softly. “Not until recently. But now… now he’s free. He’s safe. And I wanted you to know that.”

Winnie shook her head, disbelief and hope warring in her chest. “How do you know all of this? Who are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m from the future. From 2025.”

Winnie stared at you, waiting for you to laugh, to smile and admit it was all some elaborate joke. But your face remained serious, your eyes filled with an honesty Winnie couldn’t deny. “The future,” she repeated faintly.

“Yes,” you said. “I know how it sounds. But it’s true. I came back to tell you about James because… because you deserve to know.”

Winnie leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. None of it made sense, and yet something about your voice, your demeanor, made it impossible to dismiss you entirely. “If you’re from the future,” she said slowly, “then tell me something else. Tell me about… Steven Rogers.”

Your expression softened. “He’s alive too.”

Winnie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No.”

“He is,” you said, your voice gentle. “He survived when he put the plane down in the water. They found him 70 years later, frozen in the ice, but alive. Just like James.”

Winnie felt tears welling up in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. “They’re both alive,” she whispered. “My boys are alive.”

“Yes,” you said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “And they’re together. Living in Brooklyn. James is free, Mrs. Barnes. He’s been pardoned for everything Hydra made him do, and he’s a hero now. People love him.”

Winnie’s breath hitched, a sob breaking free from her chest. She clutched your hand tightly, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “He’s safe. He’s happy.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Winnie allowed herself to believe it. Her boy was alive. And somehow, impossibly, everything was going to be okay.

Winnie’s hands, now resting limply on her lap, still trembled with the weight of what she’d been told. She didn’t know where to begin. What question could possibly make sense of the impossible? How could you, so composed and confident, sit there and tell her these outlandish, earth-shattering truths as though they were simple facts?

Her James.

Alive. Free. Safe.

But at what cost?

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. Your voice was patient, a warm balm against the storm raging in Winnie’s chest. “I know this is a lot to take in. If you need me to explain anything again, I’m happy to.”

Winnie blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus. Her hands twisted together in her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “You’re telling me my son’s been alive all this time… suffering, being used like some kind of—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, unable to finish the thought. “How could anyone do that to him?”

Your face softened, your expression filled with sympathy. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “Hydra is… they were ruthless. They didn’t see him as a person. They saw him as a weapon. But he’s not like that anymore. He’s found his way back to himself.”

Winnie’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know all of this? You’ve never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

To Be Continued….

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension

I woke up the next morning at 9.30 am, pulling the eye mask over my head as the sunlight flooded in my entryway. Stretching, I let out a yawn and checked my phone. Still no response from Matt. Not that I was expecting any after being left on read.

Brushing it off, I got up and threw on my slippers. Nick and I we going shopping at 11, and the idea of getting out of the house lifted my mood. But first I needed coffee, desperately.

I dragged my feet downstairs to the kitchen and made myself a quick breakfast, scrambled eggs on toast and coffee from the Keurig. Simple but enough to wake me up. While I ate, I doom scrolled on my phone, pausing every so often to read back over my messages with Matt. Still no reply.

I don't know why it frustrated me, I guess I just wanted answers. I rinsed my plate, set it in the dishwasher, and headed into the bathroom to get ready. It was nice to not feel rushed or that I was bothering Matt by taking my time in here. The hot water from the shower was just what I needed. I stayed under longer than usual, it was a small luxury, but I enjoyed it.

After finishing up and drying my hair, I walked back up to my room, pulling open my closet. My eyes immediately landed on the yellow Ralph Lauren jumper Nick had given me yesterday. I threw it on and paired it with my favorite jeans and white sneakers. I glanced at myself in the mirror, adjusting the jumper. It was slightly oversized but felt snug in all the right ways. I sprayed my perfume over myself to finish it all off.

“Perfect” I muttered to myself before grabbing my bag.

Nick opened his bedroom door, ready to go with an eager grin on his face. “Ready to spend some money?” he asked, holding Chris’ card up.

Nick ordered an uber and suggested we check in on Nate to see if he needed anything while we were out. I followed him down the stairs to Chris’ room. Nick gently knocked on the door before peeking inside. "Still out cold" he whispered, shaking his head with a small grin. I glanced past him and saw Nate sprawled across the bed, tangled in Chris’ blanket, looking completely unbothered by the world. 

"Kids on a two day hangover by the look of it, what did you do to him?" Nick laughed, closing the door quietly before turning to me with a shrug. 

"Don’t ask me, maybe he just can’t keep up like I can. Let’s just get him some snacks anyway, he’ll probably appreciate them when he finally wakes up."

The uber arrived an we hopped into the car, the Uber driver was really friendly and even let us have AUX. Nick seized the opportunity and started blasting one of his favorite playlists. The drive to the mall was filled with his off key singing while the driver laughed. It was impossible to be in a bad mood when Nick was like this, completely carefree and full of energy.

We arrived at the bustling mall, and I was instantly reminded of how much I loved and hated these places. The endless options were both exciting and overwhelming. Nick, of course, was in his element.

“Okay, first things first” he declared, clapping his hands together. “You need a suitcase. Like a good one, something sturdy.”

I followed him through the luggage section of a department store, pulling at the endless rows of suitcases in every size and color. I settled on a large suitcase in a turquoise shade. It was light but durable, with smooth wheels and plenty of compartments for organizing.

“This one feels very.. you” Nick said, wheeling it toward the register. “Now we just need to fill it"

Next, we headed to the clothing stores. The first thing to look for was swimwear. I sifted through racks of bikinis, one pieces, and cover ups while Nick hovered nearby, occasionally pulling something out and holding it up.

“This is cute” he said, holding a bright coral bikini against me.

“Too bright” I replied, shaking my head.

“You’re going to Hawaii! Bright is the point.”

We compromised on a mix of neutral and vibrant pieces, including a black one piece with a scoop back and a yellow bikini that Nick insisted matched the jumper he’d given me.

From there, we moved to outfits. Sundresses, flowy skirts, tank tops, and breathable shorts for getting in and out of the pool all made their way into my shopping bags. A wide brimmed sun hat and a pair of oversized sunglasses were also thrown into the mix.

“You’re going to look like you’re in a Vogue ad with those on” Nick teased as we passed the checkout.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” I shot back, laughing.

The last thing on our list was footwear. I grabbed a pair of comfortable sandals and white sneakers that would pair well with most outfits. Nick talked me into buying a pair of wedge heels “just in case” I wanted to dress up a bit fancier for dinner.

With every bag we accumulated, the excitement for the trip grew. Nick carried most of them without complaint, weaving through the mall like a man on a mission, while I lugged the suitcase behind me.

“Shit” he said.  “We forgot toiletries. Let’s go.”

We loaded up on mini shampoo bottles, sunscreen, bug spray, and anything else that could fit into the clear bag at security. I also grabbed a neck pillow for the flight and a small blanket.

“I think we went a little overboard” I admitted, looking at everything we had.

“No such thing" Nick replied, starting the engine. “You’re going to Hawaii. You deserve to look and feel amazing! Now, shoes again” Nick declared.

“But I already got shoes” I protested.

“You don’t have these shoes” he said, dragging me into another store.

Before I knew it, I’d added a pair of espadrilles and waterproof slides to my collection. At this point, I was sure I had enough to outfit myself for a two month long trip, not just two weeks in Hawaii.

“Okay” Nick said, stretching dramatically. “I’m starving. Let’s get food.”

We headed to a nearby bistro that had outdoor seating. The warm sunshine paired with the scent baked goods was heavenly. I ordered a chicken and cheese sandwich, while Nick opted for a salad.

As we waited for our food, Nick checked his phone and grinned.

“Chris’s phone is dispatched” he said. “Should be here later today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Finally. It’s been so weird not being able to get in touch with him directly.”

Nick nodded, taking a sip of his iced tea. “Yeah, I’d say Matt doesn't know what to do now that his phone actually gets messages.”

The mention of Matt and messages nearly makes me turn red.

“What time are they getting home today actually?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Nick shrugged. “Sometime later tonight. They booked a nighttime flight.”

I nodded, trying not to read too much into it. The food arrived, and we dug in, enjoying the rare moment of quiet.

After finishing our meal, Nick glanced at the mountain of shopping bags we’d accumulated and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“There’s no way we’re fitting this all in a normal car.” he declared, rubbing his temples dramatically.

I laughed. “You’re the one who kept saying, ‘Oh, just get it! It’s perfect!’”

He rolled his eyes. “And I don’t regret it one bit, but let’s be real. We need reinforcements, or at least a bigger car.”

Nick pulled out his phone and started tapping away. A moment later, he said, “Uber XL. It’s the only way we’re fitting all of this and ourselves into one ride.”

I nodded in agreement, looking at the bags around us. There were at least three overflowing ones just from the boutique alone, plus the suitcase we’d bought earlier that took up a ridiculous amount of space.

“Good call” I said.

Within minutes, a shiny black mini van pulled up outside the bistro. The driver stepped out, taking one look at us and our bags, and raised an eyebrow.

“Shopping spree?” he asked with a grin.

“You could say that” Nick replied with a chuckle. 

The driver helped us load everything into the trunk, which, despite being spacious, was a tight fit. Once everything was secured, we hopped into the backseat, relieved to finally be off our feet.

As the car pulled away, Nick leaned back and sighed contentedly. “I’m never going shopping without an Uber XL again. This is the only way to do it.”

I laughed, leaning my head against the window as we cruised through the city. My thoughts drifted to Hawaii and all the outfits I’d packed for, the sunshine, the beaches. I felt a little buzz of excitement, like maybe this trip would be exactly what I needed.

We arrived home just near 3pm. Nick pushed the front door open with his hip, three shopping bags dangling from each hand, I followed closely behind, lugging the suitcase and two additional bags. The sheer weight of it all, especially the suitcase made me huff as I maneuvered it over the step into the house.

We paused just inside, catching our breath, when faint voices floated down from upstairs. My ears perked up, and I immediately recognized the voices. Chris and Matt.

Nick frowned, glancing back at me. “Are they.. here?”

“Surely not?” I replied, adjusting my grip on the suitcase. “You said their flight wasn’t supposed to land until later tonight.”

Nick shrugged, then headed up the stairs. I struggled to hoist the suitcase up the first few steps, the wheels knocking against the edges of each one.

“Could use some help here” I muttered, but Nick was already out of sight, more curious about the voices upstairs than my struggle.

By the time I reached the top, dragging the suitcase behind me, I could hear Nick questioning the guys.

“What the fuck are you two doing back so early?” he asked, standing in the hallway with a confused look.

Chris grinned, arms wide open as he stepped forward and dramatically pulled Nick into a bear hug. “What, I can’t miss my brother and come home early to see him?”

Nick groaned but didn’t pull away. “Chris you were gone for two whole days. Seriously though. What’s the deal? You weren’t supposed to land until later tonight.”

Matt leaned against the doorframe of his room, arms crossed and looking mildly amused. Chris finally released Nick and laughed.

“Man, we were so hungover yesterday that we couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around Vegas all day today waiting for a late flight. So, we booked an earlier one before we hit the strip last night” Chris explained.

Nick shook his head, muttering something about impulsiveness, before turning back toward me. “You hear that? Weak.”

I smirked, finally dropping the suitcase with a thud. Chris glanced over at me, his smile softening.

“Hey, Y/n” he greeted.

“Hey” I replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face and wondering why seeing him felt like a surprise.

As Chris glanced around, he ran a hand through his hair. "Yo, Nick, have you seen my business card? I swear I had it before we left for Vegas."

Nick smirked, clearly trying to rile him up. "I have it" he said casually, glancing at me standing there with my brand new suitcase and an absurd number of shopping bags.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Well, can I have it back, genius?"

"Maybe" Nick teased, then pivoted. "Oh, by the way, your new phone should be here later today. You’re welcome."

I stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, fully aware of Matt’s presence just a few feet away. He hadn’t said anything yet, but the tension was undeniable.

Finally Matt’s voice cut through the air, his tone sharper than necessary. "What’s with the suitcase? You finally moving out?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his comment. Before I could respond, Nick jumped in.

"It’s for Hawaii" Nick said as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms casually.

Matt’s confusion was obvious, his brows furrowing deeply. "Hawaii? You already have a suitcase that size."

Nick shook his head, grinning like he was about to drop a bombshell. "It’s not for me, Einstein. It’s for Y/n."

Matt turned to me, his expression instantly hardening like he’d just been sucker punched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I swore he looked genuinely hurt.

Matt’s jaw tightened, and he looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. His eyes flicked to me again, unreadable, before he straightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Wow some trip this is going to be then." he muttered before disappearing into his room, the door closing behind him, quiet but firm.

The hallway felt colder, and I avoided Nick’s gaze, pretending to fiddle with one of the bags. Chris, oblivious as ever, clapped Nick on the shoulder.

"Alright, where’s my card?"

Nick laughed, shaking his head. "Not so fast, bro. You’re helping me unpack this stuff first."

As the two of them headed off upstairs, I stood there, staring at Matt’s closed door, feeling a wave of something I couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Frustration? Maybe a mix of both. But I quickly shook it off and grabbed the suitcase, dragging upstairs toward my room and telling myself not to overthink it. Once everything was up in my room, Nick dropped his load dramatically on the floor, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"Alright, that’s my good deed for the day" Chris said, brushing his hands together like the work was done.

"You’ve been so helpful" I said sarcastically as I started sorting through the bags.

Chris smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "You going to pack tomorrow?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah, we’re starting to pack now. No point in waiting till tomorrow morning and rushing."

Chris raised an eyebrow, watching me open the suitcase and start placing clothes inside. "If only I was that organised" he laughed, walking further into the room. His eyes immediately went to the Fresh Love samples hung up by the closet.

He stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look. "Woah" he said, running his fingers lightly over one of the pieces. "These look even better in person. The photos don’t do them justice."

I glanced over at him, feeling a bit of pride in his compliment. "Thanks. I really like them.”

Chris nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "I ordered some personalized samples for us all to be delivered to our villa in Hawaii. Thought we could take some pictures out there for a night time shoot, maybe use them for promos. I got us all varsity jackets with our initial on them, and then some other pieces I thought everyone would like."

Nick perked up at that, clearly impressed. "That’s such a good idea! Especially since it's cold at night" he said, nudging me with his elbow.

I smiled at both of them, my chest swelling a bit with pride. "I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get some shots out there" I admitted, picturing how amazing the pieces would look in a tropical setting.

Chris picked up one of the sample pieces, holding it out. "Yeah, these are gonna kill it. People are gonna go nuts over this drop."

I nodded, the excitement of everything bubbling under the surface. For the first time in a while, I felt like things were coming together, and the thought of getting to share it in such a beautiful setting made it even better.

Chris set the sample back on the rack and stretched, letting out a small yawn. "Alright, I’m gonna go check in with Nate" he said, glancing toward the stairs. "He was still knocked out when I peeked into his room earlier. Probably still recovering from your crazy night out."

Nick gave him a nod. "Yeah, sounds about right.”

Chris chuckled. "I’ll catch you guys in a bit." With that, he turned and headed out of the room, the sound of his footsteps fading as he made his way downstairs.

Nick, without missing a beat, grabbed his pile of shopping bags and suitcase and walked toward his own room, which was right next to mine. “I’m leaving the door open so we can pack together. This way, I can judge your packing skills and make sure you don’t leave anything important behind."

I rolled my eyes but laughed. "Oh, because you’re the authority on packing now?"

Nick grinned as he disappeared into his room, propping his door open so we could still talk. "Absolutely. I’m a seasoned traveler, unlike you. I’ve got the technique down to a science."

I could hear him rustling through his bags, muttering about how he might need to pick up another pair of shorts before we left. Meanwhile, I started folding my clothes neatly into the suitcase. 

Nick's voice carried over from his room as I heard the distinct sound of a zipper being tugged open. "Alright" he began, "Let’s see what we’ve got here. Swim trunks, check. I brought the neon ones this time.."

I laughed, picturing him strutting around in the loudest pair of swim trunks he could find. "You really need neon to stand out? Thought your personality did that already."

"Ha ha" he shot back. "No, but seriously, you’ll thank me when you’re trying to spot me in the ocean. Anyway.. tank tops. Got a few new ones, including that white one you said looked good. Oh, and my black button up for dinners. Can’t be showing up to a nice restaurant looking like I just rolled off the beach."

The sound of him rifling through bags grew louder. "Flip flops, sneakers, maybe I should bring those prada loafers.. what do you think?"

 "Definitely bring the loafers for dinners. You’ll regret not having them."

"Good call" he replied, tossing them into his suitcase. "Alright, what else? Oh, sunscreen, got the high SPF stuff this time. Learned my lesson after that beach trip last summer. And hats! Gotta protect this money maker " he added, gesturing dramatically at his face.

"You’re ridiculous" I said with a laugh.

"Ridiculously prepared" he corrected. 

I shook my head, smiling to myself as I continued to fold my clothes. "You sound like you’re moving away for good, not going on a vacation."

"Hey!" he called out, "you’re gonna thank me when you’re borrowing my stuff because you forgot something."

"Bold of you to assume I’d forget anything" I shot back, neatly placing my toiletries into my bag.

Nick peeked his head into the hallway. "Care to make a bet on that?"

I smirked. "We’ll see."

I glance around Nick’s room one last time, making sure he isn’t about to burst out again with some last minute comment, but all I hear is the sound of him collapsing onto his bed. “Alright, I’m taking a nap. All that shopping has me worn out” 

I laugh at how dramatic he was, and closed over his bedroom door to let him sleep. I zipped up my suitcase and placed it in the corner of my room.

Now in silence, I sit on the edge of my bed. The small envelope from the flowers catching my attention, sitting on my bedside locker. It feels like it’s mocking me, just sitting there like some unsolved mystery. My fingers twitch as I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. Why does something so small have such a big hold over me? I hate how awkward everything feels now again, how one card and a few unread messages can mess with my head so much.

But I can’t go to Hawaii like this. I’m actually excited for the trip, and I’ll be damned if Matt is going to ruin it for me with this unresolved weirdness.

Acting on impulse, I shove the card back into the envelope and stand up. My heart’s pounding as my legs move before my brain fully catches up. Next thing I know, I’m marching down the stairs, the envelope clutched tightly in my hand like a lifeline.

The closer I get to Matt’s door, the louder the rush of blood in my ears becomes. The house feels strangely quiet, the kind of stillness that makes you hyper aware of every movement. I stop just outside his room, hesitating for a second. Maybe I should think this through, figure out what I’m even going to say. But before I can overthink it, my hand is already on the door handle.

I push the door open without knocking, stepping inside before I can change my mind. Matt’s sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looks up, startled, as the door swings open.

“Uh, hello?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Ever heard of knocking?”

I ignore him, taking a step closer. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” he says, crossing his arms. “That you’re stealing Chris’ money and my clothes now?” He says, pointing at the yellow jumper I have on me.

Fuck this is his jumper.

No wonder the scent was familiar.

I take a deep breath, trying to not show how awkward I felt.

"About this. And about whatever game you think you’re playing." I say, holding up the envelope.

a/n: i <3 cliffhangers

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[darkcitiesnluv]

Dry Humping Taesan Short Smut

Minors are not allowed to read this!

Taesan x Female Reader

Warnings: smut, reader riding him, dry humping, kissing, clothes on.

Enjoy ;)

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉💕‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉💕 ༉‧₊˚

You push him against the back of the couch. You sat on his lap while grabbing his neck with both of your small hands and kissed him passionately as if he was going to leave you and never come back to you. You were so desperate you didn’t know what to do next. Should you quickly take your clothes off or should you take it slow and enjoy every touch? You needed him so bad especially how good he looked sitting down and looking up at you with almost pink bruised lips. You want it to eat him up. Tear him up. But why you felt so horny today?? You don’t know but here you are grinding on him, on his lap, on his stomach, and his crotch. You were dry humping with your skirt and undies on. You felt the bulge on his pants hitting your clit. Both of your breaths hit each other's faces creating sweat. Bodies are hot and sweaty creating a hot atmosphere in the living room. Sounds of hardcore wet kisses were loud and echoing in the air.

Taesan softly runs his big hands up and down your thighs. His lender's fingers tickle every spot of your warm skin. His hands reach down to pat your butt. He smacks your ass lightly hard and grips both cheeks helping your pussy have more access for pleasure as your clit hits his zipper. “This ass and pussy is mine…” he grins between the kisses, biting down your bottom lip. You moan. “Mmm yes everything of me is yours and everything of you is mine,” you said breathlessly as your hips slammed against him feeling close to your climax. You had your silky pink crop top with no bra so your soft perky breast was smack him on his face and chest depending on how you were riding your pussy almost getting on top of him. Don’t worry you are not suffocating him. Taesan was enjoying it and was shocked at how crazy you were acting. He was enjoying the view right in front of him and couldn’t help but smirk and laugh. This wild side of you turns him on so much.

“ shit baby I’m about to cum….” You said out loud looking up at the ceiling. You grasped the back of his brownish beautiful hair and pulled it down so he could look up at you. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes traveled down to your breast and down to your skirt. “ you look so sexy….” He whispers, a hand reaching to play with your right breast sending pleasure waves on your body. “ let me help you cum…” he rubs his fingers on your clit underneath your skirt. “ Fuck!! Shit Taesan!!ahhh~~” you cried loudly as now you looked like a complete mess in front of him. Your legs were now spread open for him as he play with your pussy as if he was a master at it. “ Fuck…..you already came…..you look like a slut right now” he smirk at you looking at you with his dark brown intense eyes. You wanted to melt again right there. Damm this man drives you crazy. You loved him so much.

“Baby….” You whisper as you pull him close by the collar of his white hoodie. You kissed him passionately almost eating him. Your hands wrapped around his neck. Taesan’s hands rested on your hips and ass. “ I love you….” You hug him. You truly truly love this man and you want to give him everything and anything he wants. Not only is he amazing in the bed but just the person he is and the way he treats you just makes you want to love him forever.

“And I love you too….more than you think….my beautiful girl….” He wraps his left arm around your waist and his other arm across your back and the back of your head. He kisses your temple.

“ hey but uh….” He pouts cutely and coolly and he points a twirling finger down his crotch. “ you have to fix something….it is really hard by the way…” he smirks. You bit your bottom lip feeling your cheeks blush. “ alright baby….let me give you a good suck…” you laughed pulling him for another kiss.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉💕‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉💕 ༉‧₊˚

@riqomi @starrihan @1129ism @bonedors @jeongmie04 @amarecerasus @taesancult @taesanstudios @thefriuttenwonteat @shirl377 @dobbiesvvorld @yujinxue @boynextdoorr @taesanrot

[luvismenu]

stream #04 — underwater

(smau + written chap) ,, pause or play ,, JJK — series m.list

warnings: wet. like, literally wet. cutie moments, flashbacks.

“alright, chat, see you in the next stream,” jungkook says with a grin, waving at the camera before ending the stream.

as soon as the stream is off, you start helping him clean up while he grabs a towel to dry himself off.

you were a little worried when he told you he’d be streaming in his pool today. showing tricks and swimming around sounded fun, but you couldn’t help but stress about how long his streams usually last—being underwater for extended periods couldn’t be good for him. thankfully, though, he wrapped it up earlier than usual.

you’re glad he’s more aware of himself.

“the weather was perfect today, wasn’t it? made for a great stream,” he says cheerfully, shaking his head, water droplets scattering everywhere.

you laugh softly as you carefully walk over, mindful of the slippery, wet floor. “here, let me help,” you say, reaching for his towel.

he lowers his head for you with a little smile, letting you dry his hair.

you’re in your usual clothes, a white shirt and jeans and he’s just in his swim shorts, but this isn’t anything new— you’ve seen him like this plenty of times before.

but for jungkook, this feels different.

his heart is pounding. every time he tries to show you his manly side (as he calls it) it’s like his thoughts spiral. he knows he’s doing too much, but he can’t help it. he just hopes you’ll see him differently… feel something, anything, for him.

“jji…” he mutters softly, barely audible.

you pause, your hands still in his hair, but you don’t pull away. “what is it?” you ask, your voice equally soft as you meet his gaze.

he tilts his head up, slowly straightening to his full height, towering over you now. your hands lower slightly, following the movement of his head, and you notice him reach for your wrist, holding it gently.

you blink, a little confused. “what?” you whisper, the proximity making your heart skip slightly.

he swallows, his eyes searching yours nervously.

“you look pretty,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady.

your breath catches, and you stare at him, processing his words.

“huh?” you reply, caught off guard.

compliments from jungkook aren’t unusual. he’s always been sweet. but this… this feels different. his tone, the look in his eyes, the way he’s standing so close— it all feels heavier, more meaningful. you can feel your face heat up, and for a second, you can’t seem to find the right words.

his lips twitch into a slight smile when he sees you blinking rapidly, clearly caught off guard.

“i said you look pretty,” he repeats, voice quieter this time as he gently lowers your hand, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

“oh. thanks,” you murmur, clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. “lunch?” you quickly ask, hoping to steer the moment away from the sudden shift in energy.

he doesn’t step back, and the proximity feels heavier now. this sort of closeness isn’t new—it’s happened countless times before—but it felt different ever since jungkook started his whole “i’m a grown man now” thing.

you think it began after your breakup with your ex, a few months ago. it wasn’t messy, just two people realizing they weren’t meant to be. it was fine, really. still, you’d had your moments of sadness, and jungkook had been there for all of it, comforting you in his own way.

but somewhere along the line, he started slipping in comments like, “it’s okay, jji. you can lean on me. i’m a grown man now.” it had made you laugh at first— you didn’t think he was serious. but the more time passed, the more you realized he was indeed, serious.

and you don’t know what to do with that.

“yeah…” he mutters, barely audible, but his gaze doesn’t falter. he keeps looking at you, and you find yourself unable to look away.

then, his hand shifts, his fingers intertwining with yours. you snap out of your thoughts, your brows knitting together as you notice him leaning closer.

your breath catches, and before you can think, you flinch and instinctively step back— unfortunately, towards the pool.

“oh—”

the slippery floor doesn’t give you a chance. you stumble, yelping as you lose balance. your grip on jungkook’s hand tightens as you fall, and his eyes widen in alarm.

it all happens too quickly.

your body hits the water with a splash, the cold instantly shocking your senses. jungkook's grip on your hand slips and he drops to one knee at the edge of the pool, his eyes wide with panic.

“jji !! are you okay?” jungkook asks, his voice louder than usual as it cuts through the sound of splashing water.

you blink up at him, soaked and disoriented, water dripping from your hair and face. with a heavy sigh, you mutter flatly, “jungkook.”

his lips twitch, and you can see him trying to suppress a laugh. “it’s not my fault!” he says defensively.

“you— you scared me!” you snap, grabbing the edge of the pool to pull yourself out.

“what did i do?” he argues, kneeling fully to help you.

“ugh, nothing,” you grumble as you accept his help. with his grip, you manage to haul yourself out of the pool, but now you’re completely drenched. your clothes stick to you uncomfortably, and you can already feel the chill settling in.

“well,” he says, glancing at you, “at least you’ve got extra clothes here and..”

but then his words trail off. he stops moving entirely.

you look at him, confused by his sudden silence, until you realize—

oh shit.

your soaked white shirt has turned almost transparent, clinging to your skin and revealing the light pink bra underneath. jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second before his cheeks flush bright red. his head jerks up so quickly it startles you.

“uh—” he stammers, now looking everywhere but at you, “the t-towel!”

your head snaps to the towel lying forgotten on the floor. you grab it immediately, wrapping it around yourself as fast as you can.

“i-i’m gonna go change,” you say, your voice shaky as you clutch the towel tightly.

he’s still turned away, fidgeting as he stares into the void, anywhere except you. “yeah, yep, sure, you know the way!” he rambles, his words tumbling out so fast they almost don’t make sense.

despite the awkwardness, you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

he’s flustered.

so flustered that it’s kind of.. cute.

“jagi, can you also get the tomato sauce? i think we need more,” your mom says into her phone, distracted as she talks to your dad. she looks a little frustrated, glancing between the ingredients for lunch and you playing on the floor with jungkook. his little hands clap excitedly as you build a colorful fort with play blocks.

“aish, jagi, no, not that one! you know, the one with—” her voice fades into the background, leaving just you and jungkook surrounded by his tiny giggles.

“jajji !” he exclaims, pointing at you with a big smile.

you giggle back, his happiness contagious. you gently take his small hands in yours, your slightly bigger hands wrapping around his.

“my dad is my mommy’s jagi,” you explain, smiling at him. “just like my mommy is my dad’s jagi.”

“eomma?” he asks, his head tilting as he refers to his mom.

“yes! your eomma is your appa’s jagi, and your appa is eomma’s jagi,” you say with confidence, proud of your explanation.

“jajji !!” he repeats, laughing at the word, his laugh light and full of joy.

at that time, he was new to the neighborhood. his family had moved in not long ago, but the two of you got along so well that he was already spending afternoons at your place for playdates.

“no, jungkook,” you say sweetly, pointing at your mouth to enunciate the word clearly. “ja-gi.”

he blinks at you, his little head tilting again as he tries to understand. after a moment, his eyes light up like he’s figured out something big.

“jji !!” he exclaims, clapping his hands again.

you burst into laughter. “jji?!”

“you,” he points at you, his grin so wide it shows his tiny teeth. then he points at himself and says proudly, “my jji.”

your face brightens with joy.

“and you,” you say, pointing back at him with equal excitement, “my jji.”

you smile as your eyes settle on a picture frame of a seven-year-old you with a three-year-old jungkook perched on your lap. his tiny arms are wrapped around you, his grin showing his little bunny teeth. your hands are loosely holding him, and your expression is full of joy. you wrap your arms around yourself now, standing in front of his wall of memories, each photo telling a story.

there’s his kindergarten graduation, his middle school soccer team, and his high school prom; with you beside him because he refused to take a date, saying he’d be just fine as long as you could make it somehow. (more like insisted you), and you did— showing up near the end of the prom, and you still remember the way his entire face lit up when he saw you there.

photos of him winning trophies and awards, moments that document every stage of his life, and in almost all of them, you’re right there beside him. you trace the edge of one of the frames lightly—the one with him on your lap—with your fingers, a small smile playing on your lips.

“figured it out jji !” jungkook's voice calls out, breaking your thoughts. you turn to see him walking out of the kitchen, a wooden spoon in one hand, looking triumphant. “i forgot to add sesame oil.”

you chuckle, watching him as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. he's fully refreshed now after his shower, and you’re wearing the fresh clothes you grabbed after your own dive into the pool.

“need any help?” you ask, tilting your head.

“nope! the only thing i need you to do is eat,” he says, flashing a grin before disappearing back into the kitchen.

you can’t help but smile again. the strange tension from earlier, the moment by the pool, it feels like a distant memory now. right now, it’s just jungkook; your jungkook. the boy who grew up with you, who you’ve always been able to depend on. there’s nothing to overthink, nothing to worry about.

he's just your jji.

next chappie at 120 notes !!

a/n: ive got the plot already written in my notes but it takes time to fully write & execute it ,, pls forgive me for the slow updates 😣

💌 series taglist: @milkk1400 @dna-black-and-blue @vrsltz @jkvamp @dieforkoo @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @thvgukk

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter nine

chapter nine

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: things take a turn for the worse.

Please read the warnings as some new important ones have been added. NOTE: this is the last time that the SA tag will be used in this story. However, the events of this chapter are important. If you decide to skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I’ll fill you in. Or message if you want specifics about the tags to decide if you want to read it.

chapter warnings: non-con, dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, sexual assault (NOT by joel, NOT described, just implied and alluded to), p in v, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You were wrong about Mike. About his lack of retaliation.

You were so, so wrong. 

That much is clear when you wake up.

The first sign that things aren’t quite right is that you never did get around to going to sleep last night. 

The second is that you may be buried, or something. You can’t quite move your limbs beyond wiggling your fingers and toes. And you can’t see shit. 

The third sign is that you can’t smell Joel. Not beyond what’s soaked into your skin and sweater. No, he’s very much not here. Or anywhere nearby, if the rapidly tightening feeling in your chest is any indication. 

It’s panic you can’t shake off, you know, since you can’t fucking move. 

The fluorescent overhead buzzes to life. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” The voice blows in from across the room and sinks in your gut like it’s sleeping with the fishes. 

You really, truly are in some deep shit. 

You’ve been kidnapped from your kidnappers. Honestly, what did you do in a past life to deserve this? 

He’s right about one thing. The confidence you clung to in the early days has been picked at like carrion. You’re scared. 

“I didn’t–I’m–” but something is wrong, so very, very wrong. You’re bubbling out gibberish and spit. It’s just sounds, dribbling from sloppy lips. 

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It ain’t gonna wear off for a while, so best just sit quietly like a good bitch.”

You’re not sure if it's the panic or whatever he’s drugged you with, but your throat is cinched, and your cheeks sting from the uncontrollable stream of tears. 

“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 

Shit. They were actual brothers. Not that it mattered; what was done was done, but you had really miscalculated this. 

His hand is on your shoulder. It’s better than where you thought he was reaching, and yet, still horrible. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with handsy or aggressive men. It’s just… usually, you can move. Fight. Run. 

His hand is nothing like Joel’s. His fingers are short, his nails broken and edged with grime. There are scars and dry skin, like Joel, but it’s nothing like his rough grip. There’s no nick above the webbing of his thumb, no calluses on the plump pads of his fingers to remind you that you’re alive. 

Mike brushes his thumb over Joel’s bite, the thin newborn skin taut and jagged. You make a sound. You don’t hear it, not with the way your heart is beating in your eardrums, not the way every note scrapes your throat, but you grate out a sound that might have been a hiss. 

Or a growl.

His hand connects with your cheek, which does not help the dizziness stuffed between your ears.

 

You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 

He must know he’s on a dwindling timetable. Inevitably, by dawn, the others will return to the base with Joel in tow. Inevitably, by dawn, they’ll know. 

As if he can tell you’ve dug up a fragment of hope, he leers, taking a swig from a bottle of dirty brown liquor. “You think Jim’s gonna waste resources on finding you?” he murmurs, grimy fingers stroking your cheek. 

And just like that, with a sharp breath, you lose that hope. Because he’s right, he’s undeniably right. Jim never misses a chance to bitch about the drain you are. They don’t need you, not really. Neither does Joel, not really. 

It’s easy, after the hours that have passed, to give in to the overwhelming dread. His hand wanders as it settles in, and you twitch away from his touch.

“Guess it’s wearin’ off,” Mike muses, taking another drink. “Can’t have you puttin’ up a fight now.” His bottle clinks against the file cabinet he sets it upon as he squats to dig through a duffel bag. 

There’s nothing you can do when he ties you down. There’s nothing you can do as he grips your cheeks hard, his thumb digging into your jaw until your mouth opens. You try not to swallow the liquor he pours in, only to aspirate it instead, wheezing and sputtering to little effect. 

“Jesus. Can’t even handle a little booze,” he sneers. “Too bad. Can’t have you gettin’ too feisty, huh?” He forces more down your throat, and it burns. 

He keeps squeezing your face, peering down at your mouth. “Reckon I should teach you a lesson about biting,” he said, tapping the bottle lightly against your front teeth. A whimper of fear slips free, and he grins crookedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t like that, huh? My brother didn’t much like gettin’ bit, either.” 

He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 

You can feel your body twitch, trying its very hardest. The lingering drugs and booze make your head spin and throb. Mike faded in and out of view, but made his presence very clear as he pried your jaw back open. 

He tapped each tooth with the pliers, hemming and hawing about where to start. Garbled sounds are all the protest you can muster, trying to shake your head loose of his grasp as he selects an incisor. 

The first two attempts fail, the pliers slipping free, battering you in the process. The third try, though, clamps on just right. He clumsily tugs, to no avail, before wiggling and twisting the tooth. Reluctantly, your body parts ways with it as he increases the force, plucking the loosened tooth from the gum. 

You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.

—

It’s not the fight that wakes you. Not the gunshots, not the snarling. Everything has died down by the time you come around.

Well, not everything. Based on the sounds, you’d hazard a guess that Mike is still at least a little alive. When you look up, you’re thrilled to find out you can, that the paralysis has waned. 

Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell. 

For a moment, Joel meets your eyes, and you are the wolf, nearly. You can feel the way it burns through your veins. 

Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast. 

There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 

The Wolf that is Joel, that is your alpha, that is your savior, stands on his hind legs with those unsettling inverse ankle-knee-freaky bits bent. But even crouching, he fills the room. He’s a blur, like the first time you saw him, an ink blot in the center of your vision. A wormhole absorbing all the light. What little is left reflects off his shiny body. It takes you a moment to realize his fur (or his body hair, as he insists) is soaked in blood. 

It clings to the plaque on his teeth. His hands are steeped in it, some already hardening or coagulating under the stretch of his claws. He stalks over to you, and you do not flinch from him. His claws rend the rope as if it were no more than spaghetti. You tremble uncontrollably as he helps you sit up, most of your faculties back under your control. His blood-soaked, massive paws cradle your cheeks, pulling back abruptly when you whimper. 

A growl rumbles from his chest, and he throws his head back and howls. It brings footsteps in your direction as he gathers you into his arms. You’ve never felt smaller than you do now, and it’s not just the bulk and heft of his body. He cradles you with a delicacy unbefitting his sharp, deadly nature, but it’s all the more Joel to you than the brutality you witnessed. 

The raiders filter in, just a few of them, more to control him than assist, but they reclaim Mike’s stolen supplies and pay you no mind. At least until Cheryl comes in. 

“Alive after all, huh?” she says, approaching far closer than you think she should dare. But she wiggles the remote to the shock collar as she nears, peering at you. “Still want her, pet?” she asks Joel. “She’s all used up.”

He bares his teeth and snarls, and she shrugs. “It was just an option,” she says, hand dropping from the pistol on her belt. 

You feel sick from the second brush with death in as many hours. Or maybe it’s from the bootleg booze and blood that’s been dripping down your throat. 

He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 

No. Not home. You can’t let yourself accept that. But it’s been almost a year, now. Almost a year since they plucked you from that FEDRA truck and brought you to hell. 

It’s not the cell that’s home, though. It’s him. 

—

You look up at the wolf once you’re locked in, the relief of your familiar prison bubbling up like bile. The others go back to their day, the incident no more than a blip of inconvenience. Silence lingers, both of you waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the heavy thunk of the cellar’s deadbolt. 

As soon as it sounds, you break.

“You found me,” you gasp, trailing into a whimper. “You found me, you found me.” Your voice is grating, leaking from your cracked and dry throat. It hurts to talk, your jaw throbs, and you struggle around the swelling, but you can’t stem the leak.

He grips your biceps with both paws, and rolls back the shift enough to speak. “I found you,” he says firmly, letting you feel his sturdy hold on you, keeping you there and present. “I’ve got you. Okay?”

You don’t respond, still shaking and swaying a little on the spot. “You found me,” you echo, raw and dredged up from the hollow of your lungs. 

“Hey,” he growls without aggression. “ Listen to me. ” He doesn’t mean to do it. His voice drops a register, an even lower rumble than usual, and your attention snaps up to him. 

He winces. There’ll be time to apologize later, though. “I’ve got you,” he repeats steadily. “Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you echo in a whisper. 

“I will always find you,” he promises, eyes gone dark. “Always, little omega. You’re mine, and there’s nowhere on this godforsaken earth that they can hide you from me.” 

In any other context, it would frighten you. It should, by all means, frighten you a little. Instead, you kiss him.

It’s a mistake that sends you pulling back, gasping in pain, and all the ferocity on his face falls.

“Let me see,” he coaxes gently, cradling your jaw. He’s careful as he presses your lip to the side to get a good look. “ Jesus, ” he whispers.

You can see the guilt building up, layers upon layers from all his life. You won’t let this, won’t let you be another. “Joel—”

But he’s not having it. He bristles and narrows his eyes at you. “Would you stop tryin’ to run your mouth? You’re making it bleed.” His eyes dart over your face, stopping back on your missing tooth each time before sighing, shoulders slumping. 

“C’mon,” he grumbles, leaving no room for argument by simply picking you up and carrying you over to the bed. He settles with you straddling his lap, wincing. He looks down for only a moment. “I’ll take care of that next. Sit still ‘n be good.” 

It turns out not to be a hard order to follow. He sets about to lick your wounds, starting with your mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to turn into anything, he really doesn’t, but he’s licking inside your mouth. As his spit mixes with yours, as he laves his tongue oh-so-gently over and over, the familiar tingling starts to set in. It numbs the pain, not entirely, but the relief is enough to make you sigh softly against his mouth.

He can’t entirely be blamed as it turns into lazy kisses, tongues brushing comfort over one another, each press of lips like a mantra. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re not sure who’s reassuring who. 

It’s not going to fix it. There’s not a magical makeout session that can restore your tooth or even heal the socket. Not that quickly, anyway. But it eases the pain, and so does the way his warm hands hold you like you’re something precious. The way he groans into the kiss, the way he can’t stop reaching for every bit of you, checking meticulously to make sure nothing else was taken from you. 

He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.

He settles you down on the mattress, settles himself into the wolf, and he licks every inch of you. His long, hot tongue is just rough enough to make you feel clean. There’s no way even a cell of Mike’s skin is left behind on yours. Joel eats it all up like he did the man himself. It leaves your whole body tingling, your heart pounding in your ears, your cunt gushing by the time he sheaths himself in you. 

There’s no room left for anyone else. There’s no room for anything but you and Joel in the darkness. 

It’s too late before either of you realize he’s triggered his own rut. Your body responds beautifully, burning under his touch, following your alpha into blissful oblivion. He fusses relentlessly, worried despite his own distress and desire, not wanting you to feel trapped or forced. Not again. Never again. 

It’s a promise neither of you are sure he can keep, but both know he’ll die trying. 

It isn’t as long as your first heat, but it’s all the more intense. Your little room fills with sweat, pants and groans replacing any need for words. And it’s exactly what you need—no thoughts, no memories, no dealing with what you’ve suffered. Just Joel, just… love? No, that can’t be right. Just lust. 

His cock is insistent, pressing into you, filling the gaps he’d left behind. He doesn’t bother turning back to the man, doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s anything but a mindless creature right now. And still, he’s so gentle. More gentle than he’s ever been. 

You didn’t have time to build a nest, but that’s okay. He doesn’t ever move from his place over your body, cocooning you, blocking everything else from sight. There’s just Joel. You’re warm and cozy and safe. 

You almost forget that you’re locked up at all. He keeps you on such a high with his deft fingers, mouth, and cock that you can’t even fathom a time when he might have to part from you. The lock of your cunt around his knot is your echo of his promise. Never again. 

—

“How much of this is even real?” you whisper in the fading light of your heat. Your hand is lazily raised, blocking out the fluorescents, but he catches it with his own, his thick fingers making room for themselves between yours. Locking you together in another way, keeping you close. 

“Couldn’t tell ya,” he says quietly, gruff voice even coarser in the way he holds back, keeping it soft in your ear. “Probably nothin’. But it’s there anyway.”

He was sure as shit right about that. This burning in your chest, the way your heart picked up as he wove your fingers together and tugged your hands down, using both your arms to hold you to his chest, your unified fist in the center. It’s not real, not really. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. There’s nothing for this heavy feeling to rest upon, no foundation for the feelings that should not be there. 

And yet.

The conversation is veering uncomfortably personal, of which you only have yourself to blame, but you run from it anyway. “You ever see Dawn of the Wolf? ” you ask, pushing for something unserious, something that’ll have him rolling his eyes and putting up a fuss about the W Word. 

That’s not what happens, though.

His breath catches for a second before rolling out in a soft sigh, his warm breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” he admits. “My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious. 

“My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 

You can’t help the way your body stiffens. You want to roll over and look at him, to parse his pursed lips and warm eyes. He doesn’t let you, though, tightening his grip around your waist, fingers pressing a little more insistently in the divots between your knuckles until you settle. 

“Watched the damn movies, read the damn books, had the damn poster on her wall,” he says, something careful in his words. Like he’s trying to give this to you without giving anything up for himself. These memories he’s clutched in the recesses of his ventricles—they can’t be extracted without damaging the last soft tissue he could spare to wrap them in. 

“So, who’s team were you on?” you tease instead. 

“I didn’t give a shit,” he dismisses. A beat passes. “Why would she even have considered the wimpy blond vampire kid?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, nodding sagely. “You think the obvious choice was the tall, hairy, brooding wolf-man. I have to agree.”

“Shut up,” he grouses immediately. “It was all stupid, anyway. None of ‘em could stop whining.” 

You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 

“Never did get to see the sequel,” you say after a moment, trying to regain some sense in your brain.

He snorts. “Didn’t miss anything. I thought it couldn’t be worse than the first one but it was the stupidest two hours of my life.” 

“I can’t believe you saw Dawn of the Wolf 2, and I didn’t,” you say. A beat passes. “Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening. 

“Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent. The oaky notes are easier to parse, now, much more complex. Hints of spices are there, sometimes. 

You’re getting too familiar. So much so that when the chamomile blossom of his grief leaks through, your grip on him tightens just a little, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to the thick thatch of hair beneath your cheek. 

It isn’t real, but how can it not be? How can something this intense not be real? No, it’s different. This isn’t real versus fake like something photoshopped, something on a green screen. 

This is more than that. The dotted lines that make up constellations aren’t real, but it doesn’t change the way those stars are bound together to make something unique, something breathtaking.

“I get it now,” he murmurs, breaking your existential reverie. 

“Get what?” you say, nose wrinkling.

He bumps his nose against yours, nudging at you in a way you know would involve a playful nip if he was his other self. “Why he didn’t just eat her,” he says.

You reward him with a bark of a laugh. “You’re still thinking about Dawn?” 

This time he does nip at you, catching your ear gently with very human teeth. “S’your fault,” he grumbles, and you feel it rumble through his chest. 

And yours. 

No, wait, that was your stomach. You’re suddenly starving, and with that revelation comes another, much worse one. You sit up so quickly that Joel follows suit, eyebrows raised. 

“What’s the matter?” He barks. 

“It’s the food,” you whisper. “That’s why they don’t let you share. That’s how Mike got me. It’s in the fucking food.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw. “Explain,” he growls.

“I think they’re drugging us,” you finally tell him. It’s been a haunting tug in the back of your brain, one you didn’t really want to admit to. There’s been a matching tug in your gut, the feeling of something not sitting quite right, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

It had been twenty years since you had something like cough syrup, anyway. But that’s the feeling. The fuzzy spot between your eyes where the ground seems to swoop up, the way you move through the day underwater. 

“Fuck,” Joel whispers. But he can’t deny it makes sense. It makes too much goddamn sense. He’s been too fucking compliant, too fucked to care. He thought it was apathy borne of everything he’s been through. 

But goddamnit. He knows. He just knows you’re right.

[blushsturns]

perv!matt x innocent!reader ♡

pt.6 ❤︎ deal

w/c: 2228

❤︎ part 5 is here

❤︎ read all about our faves here

it’s been a week since you’ve gotten the sex toys at the sex shop with matt. chris and nick were teasing you and matt the whole way home and matt was completely and utterly aggravated with the both of them. it was chris’ idea to go to the sex shop and yet chris was the one being the most obnoxious about it all. they didn’t see what you two bought, but once they saw you both at the register, they started to make teasing comments like how matt finally decided to grow some balls. you could tell it was really pissing matt off and you told them both to knock it off, but they were still being obnoxious.

while in the car on the way back from the shop, he apologized to you in the backseat. all you could do was squeeze his thigh and shake your head, flashing him a small reassuring smile. “you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

since then, matt has been quiet. you haven’t heard from him. you texted nick asking if matt was okay but all nick said was that matt was grumpy and wasn’t talking to anyone. it wasn’t like matt to be completely quiet like this. you visibly seen him get frustrated when his brothers were teasing him, but you assumed that was just what siblings do to each other.

“you’re the only one who can get through to him at this point.” nick said to you on the phone while you were painting your nails. you called him when you finally had enough and wanted to know what was going on. it wasn’t like matt not to return your texts or calls.

“i tried to talk to him, he won’t answer me. you guys have really got to knock it off with the whole teasing him thing. i know you’re his brothers, but we were all in a place we never been before. even i was unsure what the hell to do or look for.”

you heard nick sigh at the other end. nick was always such a good person to talk to and always gave the best advice and had a great listening ear. he was someone you felt completely comfortable around. that was just the aura of his personality. “i can apologize to him, but we were just messing around.” he paused for a moment before speaking again. “what did you guys buy anyway? matt was as red as a fucking tomato and when we got home he ran to his room and locked the door.”

you felt your face flush when he asked you what you two bought. matt must’ve been really embarrassed given he’s never been to a place like that before. how would he even begin to explain to his own brothers that you bought his toy and he bought yours? you shook your head to try and erase the memory (for now) and decided to laugh it off. “nick, focus! that’s not important. apologize to your damn brother and get chris to as well. give the poor guy a break, okay?”

“fine, but this weekend i am picking out where we go to hang out because chris was completely out of pocket for that one.”

you let out a soft laugh at his comment before saying your goodbyes and hanging up the phone. a soft sigh emits from your lips when you finish painting your nails and then allowing them to dry. they were a pretty pale pink that matched your pajama set. you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skincare routine before making your way back into your bedroom.

with a soft sigh emitting from your lips, you open up your curtains and your eyes widened as you see matt’s figure come into view. he was sitting on the windowsill, his fingers running throughout his tousled hair. his attention was solely focused on his phone in his hands. you pressed your hand against the windowsill, your heart feeling like its aching just from the looks of him. he looked pretty stressed. you knew matt long enough to know when he wasn’t okay and you had to admit, not talking to him for a week was starting to mess with you. you missed him, even if you didn’t want to admit that to yourself.

you wondered if he was okay. if his brothers actually apologized like you asked them to. if he’s been busy and trying to take his mind off of what happened between the two of you the last month, or if it’s all he’s been able to think about. you had to admit, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. you thought about the obsession matt had over you. was it healthy? did he love you, or was it all infatuation? did you feel the same way?

matt seemed to have consumed your brain in ways that you weren’t sure were even possible. you wondered what his lips tasted like, what his body would feel like against yours. he already has had a taste of you, would you ever want to return the favor?

all of these thoughts had your head spinning and you didn’t even realize that matt had your full attention now. he looked up at you through the window, his lips curving up into a small smile. you could visibly see him from the fluorescent light of his lamp that was sitting on his desk. he lifted his hand in his wave and you instantly lifted your hand back to wave at him, relief rushing through you. he seemed okay, but you were still puzzled as to why he’s been so silent.

you knew how embarrassed matt got easily. he instantly got so flustered all the time especially if someone else was poking fun at him for something. he knew how to stand up for himself, but sometimes he really did let it get to him. you cared for matt deeply and wanted him to be happy. you didn’t like knowing he was upset or going through anything and you wanted him to know that he could talk to you about it.

all of a sudden, matt disappeared from your sight and you felt disappointment rush through you. you weren’t sure what to make of what happened. he seemed to be in good spirits, and even waved at you, but you two still haven’t talked. you took in a deep breath, closed your curtain and walked over to your bed to get underneath your covers. you turned your lamp off on your nightstand and grabbed your phone to do your nightly doom scrolling.

you’ve checked almost every single app you had on your phone before you started to get burnt out looking at your phone. just as you were about to put it down, an incoming call from matt appeared on your screen. your eyes furrowed in confusion as to why he would be calling you this late, but you didn’t give it another thought considering you hadn’t heard from him. “hello?”

“hi.” he spoke breathlessly. you heard some rustling around on the other end before it eventually got quiet. “sorry i disappeared from the window. both of my brothers came to my room to apologize actually.”

you nodded your head as you pressed your lips together in a firm line, seemingly impressed by nick and the fact that he actually listened to you. “as they should’ve from the start. how did that go?”

“well they apologized. chris didn’t seem as apologetic, but nick did. they were curious as to what we, uh bought that day, but i wouldn’t tell them.” you didn’t have to visibly see him to know that he was blushing from the way he stammered on his words, obviously remembering that day and what they had purchased together.

a soft chuckle leaves your own lips as you rest your head comfortably against the pillow. “well good, it’s none of their business. have you been okay though? i haven’t heard from you.”

a long sigh was heard from the opposite end of the call. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. i just got so damn embarrassed. i mean chris was the one who brought up going in the first place and yet he was doing the worst of it all. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself and look totally inexperienced in front of you, i guess.” you could tell he was obviously still blushing, probably laying on his bed to mirror exactly what you were doing at that very moment.

“don’t worry about me. that shit doesn’t bother me. chris is an absolute idiot.” another laugh leaves your lips and you could hear his laugh on the other end too which made you feel a little better. “they just like to mess around too much, you know that. you didn’t have to ignore everyone for a week though, matt.” you spoke this with sadness filling your tone. you wondered if there was something else going on, or if he was genuinely just embarrassed with the way his brothers were behaving. it wasn’t the first time they were out of control, but maybe it was because he was completely out of his element in a sex shop that he probably never would’ve gone to on his own.

you heard him sigh once again, sadness filling his voice. “i know, i’m sorry. i just was really embarrassed and didn’t know how to recover from that. last thing i’d want is for you to think differently of me because of how, uh, inexperienced i am.”

you almost wanted to reach through the phone and hug him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. it wasn’t like you didn’t know that matt was inexperienced, it was just fairly obvious. matt has had a couple girlfriends in the past, but they were always really short lived and he never seemed serious about them. he never talked about his relationships or feelings in general around you and that was just the dynamic of your relationship with him.

you’d never judge him or think differently of him because of him not being as experienced or fully confident. you already knew he got flustered really easily, it was just part of who he was. in all honestly, you thought it was adorable and kind of attractive.

it excited you to know that he had some kind of obsession over you. it never once freaked you out. it made you intrigued because nobody else has ever been like this with you before. you were glad it was matt. someone you knew for awhile and felt completely comfortable with. you don’t know where this would lead and how you truly felt, but you didn’t want to lose him and you didn’t want matt to feel any less of a man because of how embarrassed he gets.

you realized you were quiet for a bit and didn’t mean to be, but you got lost in your thoughts. “you don’t have to apologize, matt. i mean it.” you said with complete and utter sincerity in your voice. “i don’t think differently of you at all. that doesn’t bother me at all. if anything, it honestly excites me a little.” you bit onto your bottom lip after you speak, even though you knew he obviously couldn’t see you.

“wait, really?” he said abruptly, surprise filling his tone. “it excites you that i’m uh, not experienced that much?”

a soft giggle emits from your lips at his reaction, resting your free hand on your stomach. “yeah, it does. although, you did seem to know what you were doing that one time in my kitchen.” immediately when you brought it up you felt your cheeks grow warm. thank goodness he couldn’t see you so he wouldn’t be able to see the kind of effect he had on you.

“oh yeah.” he said immediately, a laugh leaving his lips as well. “i’ve never done anything prior to that, but i’ve seen some things and i’d do it again, and again, and again. i mean that. sometimes it’s all i can think about.”

his voice seemed to get quieter and you wondered if maybe he had to be quiet in case nick and chris were around to listen. you felt your heart begin to beat rapidly in your chest at his words as you bite down a little harder onto your bottom lip. “really?” you asked him with surprise filling your tone. “me too.” now your voice was quiet, although it was just you and no one around you had to worry about that could hear you. “i really enjoyed that.”

“i had an idea.” he said immediately, a bit more confidence filling his voice.

this piqued your interest, your fingers playing with string on your shorts. “what is it?”

you could hear him take in a deep breath to gather himself. before you had any chance to think about what he possibly could say, he began to speak.

“how about i make it up to you for not talking for a week? tomorrow night, you and me. i’ll be in charge of that toy i got you. deal?”

you took in a deep breath, the adrenaline running throughout your body, your core suddenly beginning to throb with excitement.

“deal.”

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @katiebug3851 @fetusjikook @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos

a/n:

thank you so much for loving this au and keeping up with it! this part was kind of like a filler, but it’s very important to the story. i have tons of ideas so bare with me. i’m excited for what’s to come next.

if you wanna be added to my taglist, click here!

also if you wanna talk to me about perv!matt x innocent!reader, send me a message or hit up my inbox! :)

i’m also taking requests too!

love you guys!

-nessa ღ

[chiasaaa]

— anything for you

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: sae finds himself doing things he wouldn’t normally do. all for you.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— itoshi sae knew he was beyond saving the moment he set his phone against his pillow and clicked the record button, holding up three boxes of what seemed to be pr boxes for the brands he’s sponsoring.

no, said brands did not require him to film the pr boxes. they only wished for him to use and test it out in an attempt to gain his brutally honest feedback. so why is it that he has his camera open to do a little review?

it’s because he’s deeply and undeniably in love with a so-called idiot named you. you have him wrapped around your finger, and sae was the one to curl your fingers around him for you. a little while ago—right after emerging from the shower of his hotel room—he sent a photo of the three pr boxes that laid on his bed. his manager did tell him he’ll drop it off around the night.

itoshi sae: they’re here.

itoshi sae: [sent an attachment]

you: ohhh! unboxing vid, pls!

itoshi sae: not my thing

you: aww :PP

you: anyhoo, don’t forget to eat dinner!

you: i’m just pinning my sketches in the new mood board, then i’ll head back home.

he knew there was nothing else to your response. sure, you were a bit dampened by how he flat out rejected your request, but you’re not one to dwell in such silly things either. sae knew that you would be the last person on earth forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do, and video reviews might as well be nonexistent in his vocabulary.

even so, he decided to give it to you. reviews of the products he’s sponsoring.

oh, may god save his soul.

“we’ll start with this one.” he holds up a pastel yellow box displaying the name of his favorite skincare brand. “i heard they’re releasing a new formula for my moisturizer that’s less sticky. if it works well, then i’ll be using that for my games.”

he takes out a tube from the box and showed it to the camera, plucking the lid open. “the bottle’s bigger than the previous one too, and the design’s more minimal. i like it.”

for the next hour, itoshi sae filmed each and every reaction he had for every product he tested, telling you his brutally honest reviews and picking out which ones he considered purchasing upon launch.

sae didn’t even bother screening the videos before sending them to you, well-aware that you prefer his rawest form than anything else. it is a factor as to why he feels so lucky being with you. though, he’d never admit it right at your face, he simply hopes he shows it enough.

imagine the look on your face when you just finished locking up your office, fishing your phone out to let him know you’re about to head home. instead, you were met with three 15-minute long videos of each promotional box sent to him.

itoshi sae: [sent 3 attachments]

itoshi sae: i have to admit, i like the new sunscreen the most. i’ll contact the company and have another delivered to you.

itoshi sae: you should also try the lip glaze. i remember you’ve been complaining about how your lips dry up in the winter. i’ll give it to you next week when you fly over.

your heart swelled at the sight of him actually filming his reactions, nearly slamming into a lamp post if it wasn’t for your driver tugging you back lightly to prevent you from doing so.

you: you really filmed!

you: i’ll watch it on the way home!

you: i love you, querido <3

and your appreciative messages were enough for sae to know that leaving his heart to rest upon your care is the best thing he’s ever done. you have always been the most positive influence in his life, and you never shame him for anything he does out of his character.

itoshi sae: i love you. head home safe.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 5

Warnings:this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

Despite feeling entirely out of place, you can’t resist the draw of sleep. Nestled on the couch beneath a blanket, a soft pillow under your head, you drift away from the tension rippling off your study buddy. Even in the next room, you sense the density in the air. 

You’re so tired, you hear yourself snoring from the depths of your unconscious. Your brain is sludge and your dreams are murky. You only wake up as you sense the murmur of voices. 

You open your eyes to the glare of the TV in the pale light of day. You rub your cheek as your vision clears. You blink at the screen as the teen drama plays out. 

“You snore louder than my dad,” Faye snorts. “Morning, sunshine.” 

You lurch up, almost top-turning from the suddenness of it all. You remember where you are in an instant. You knead your temple as you try to sort yourself out. 

“Um, good morning,” you croak through your dry throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” she grins, still in her pajamas as she drapes her legs over the armrest of the chair. “How about you?” 

“Urgh, tired,” you drop your hand as the blanket falls to your lap. “Sorry, I should go--” 

“Daaaad,” Faye hollers over you. 

You flinch and turn as you hear footsteps. As you glance over, Walter emerges in a bathroom. You can tell by the glimpse of his furry chest and the glisten in his curls that he just got out of the shower. 

“Your friend’s awake.” She chirps. 

He looks at you and his shoulders square. He really doesn’t like you. You can’t help but wonder why he insisted you stay. 

“It’s alright, I’m just about to head out,” you stand and fold the blanket and set it neatly on the cushion. “Thanks, again.” 

“You should at least have breakfast. Dad made waffles.” 

“Waffles? Oh,” you glance at him. “I wouldn’t want to... impose.” 

“No big deal, I saved some batter. Iron heats up in a snap,” he shrugs. 

You face him as you cross the room. You stop by the doorway into the entry, “it’s very nice of you but I’m okay. I really should try to catch a bus.” 

“Gimme a few and I’ll drive you.” He offers. 

“Really, it’s...” 

He’s already stalking away before you can finish your protest. You sigh and grimace at his back. He really doesn’t give you a chance to argue. With anything. Would it be easier to just have him look at the paper before you go and tell you everything that’s wrong? 

“My dad likes you,” Faye giggles. “He doesn’t like anyone.” 

“Um, I don’t think so,” you lean on the doorframe and stare at the TV, trying to make sense of the snarky conversation. 

“He does,” she insists. “I know, I’m the only other person he likes.” 

“Sure,” you tut. “Does it matter? I just need to get this project done.” 

“Don’t you think it’s funny? My dad taking a writing course? He doesn’t really seem like the creative type. More the bashing skulls type,” she cackles. 

“I don’t really know... him.” 

“What did you think when he showed up? I’d be pissing my pants,” she doesn’t look away from the TV as she speaks. 

“I don’t know, I thought someone named Walter would be skinnier... maybe have glasses and a pension?” 

She laughs even louder, “oof, don’t say that too loud.” 

You let yourself smile. She’s not a bad kid. If you were her age, you might be friends. 

“I’m just going to get my stuff together,” you say, “uh, Faye, it was nice to meet you.” 

“You too. Nice to have someone around to keep the wolf from coming out in the full moon,” she snipes. 

You snicker softly and leave her. The analogy isn’t far off. Walter does fit the type. He’s a bit furry after all. 

You check that everything’s in your bag and ben to put on your shoes. You pull on your jacket and Walter appears; he wears a black hoodie and dark jeans. He pulls on a jacket and leaves it undone before he grabs his boots. 

You zip up your coat and hook your bag on your shoulder, “thanks, again. You know, I have a bus pass.” 

He grumbles and you quiet. Don’t push your luck. Hopefully he only needs to revise a little and you can be done with all this. 

You flinch as he suddenly moves toward you. Your eyes round and you hit the door with your back. He tilts his head as he reaches past you for the handle. You look down and cringe. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t... paying attention.” 

He hums and you shift out of his way. He opens the door and lets you out first. You step into the sunshine, a deceptive beacon as your breath puffs out visibly. You cross your arms as he locks the door. 

He gestures you ahead of him to his truck. You go down the walk and to the driveway. You wait on the passenger side until the locks click. You open the door and climb in. He has a much easier time stepping into the high vehicle. 

He pulls his seatbelt down as you do the same. He turns the engine and lets it rumble as he turns the dials for the vent. He checks the mirrors and grips the wheel in one hand. He leans his elbow on the arm rest as he backs out. 

“You know,” he says as he rights the tires. “I got eye surgery so I don’t need the glasses anymore.” 

You squint at his remark. What? It takes a moment before you realise. Shoot. 

“It was a joke,” you say. “Obviously...” 

“No pension for another fifteen years at least and, well, helps to have a bit of bulk in my line of work.” 

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You really didn’t mean anything. 

“I’m sorry, I... yeah, I say stupid things.” 

He’s quiet as he steers. He sucks his teeth as he stops at a sign, “it was a good joke. Better than Faye’s werewolf schtick.” 

“Oh, uh, right,” you flick your thumb nervously. 

“You seem like the werewolf type. Know any good books?” He asks. 

“Werewolf type? Um, didn’t think I put out that vibe but... maybe Mongrels? I don’t read a lot about that stuff actually.” 

“Mongrels,” he nods. “I’ll check it out.” 

You’re almost flattered that he’d take your recommendation, less so that he thinks you’re a Twilight girlie. You stare through the windshield and take the victory for what it is. You don’t think you’ll be getting any more than that. 

[joocomics]

1K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION

✭ event is 18+

with a small delay i’m finally ready to get started with my little celebration event for hitting 1k followers! this is a crazy milestone for me… i can’t express how grateful i am to all of you who support my silly stories and posts. i know i run this blog because it’s a hobby of mine and a way to escape from hectic daily life while also enjoying my interests, but your feedback, asks and comments - plus the amazing friends i made here - make it much more special than that. thank you! ♡

as a little treat, i’m opening my requests! from today, you can send in a request by following the steps below and i will write you a short spicy drabble based on it. i’m gonna be posting the finished drabbles throughout the month of february without keeping up with any specific schedule to avoid a potential burnout.

( ! ) please keep in mind my works are written with fem!reader implied; i don’t write non-con and dark content. read my guidelines before requesting so you can get familiar with what i write and don’t write about. thank you!

HOW TO SEND A REQUEST?

1) pick a member from one of the following groups: xdinary heroes; p1harmony; wayv; tomorrow x together

- excluding jongseob and soul from p1h

2) pick one or two dialogue prompts from the following lists: smutty prompts list 1 | smutty prompts list 2 | smutty prompts list 3

- if you have preference on who (member or reader) says a specific line please let me know!

3) pick a kink from the list below (this is optional):

somnophilia

choking

anal

cockwarming

corruption kink

formal wear

cuckolding

dacryphilia

overstimulation

double penetration

exhibitionism

food play

spanking

foot fetish

dry humping

lingerie kink

pillow humping

phone sex

spit kink

squirting

thigh riding

sensory deprivation

face slapping

orgasm denial

WANT TO REQUEST A THREESOME? PICK A DIALOGUE PROMPT FROM THE LIST BELOW INSTEAD:

(some of these prompts are by @/airaibunny and some of them are mine)

1. “are you just gonna sit and watch?”

2. “i saw you looking at my girlfriend”

3. “i can make her cum quicker than you”

4. “we both really like you”

5. “i want to watch”

6. “why don’t you practice on him first?”

7. “does she deserve to cum? what do you think?”

8. “i want us all to get off at the same time”

9. “do you like making us mad?”

10. “started without me?”

11. “she’s doing great, isn’t she?”

12. “why are you both being such brats right now?”

13. “i think we need to teach her a lesson”

14. “spank her harder”

15. “do you mind filming us?”

( ! ) the prompts in this list will be crossed out as soon as they’re requested to avoid repetition

an example of a request: can i request gunil + “don't forget who you belong to” and spanking?

an example of a request for a threesome: can i request a threesome with yeonjun and taehyun + prompt 11 and pillow humping?

♡ i really hope you’re all excited about this just as much as i am! hopefully you’ll enjoy reading the drabbles i will write for you; they’re a way of expressing my gratitude for your on going support on this blog! again, thank you and take care~

[huffelpuff210]

Bucky Barnes x shy reader Connection part 3

Summary: Steve and the others learn just how bad the government facility was,

You were showing them everything in the underground home, there were a total of ten rooms, a workout room a workshop, massive living room and kitchen everything was solar paneled each room had a bathroom,

“So I know it’s nothing like avengers tower.. but you are all welcome to stay I did quite a few upgrades,” you say your voice scratchy and squeaky from all the screaming from being tortured and not to mention one of the men squeezed your throat so hard he damaged your voice box you couldn’t talk for the longest time

“We would love to stay.”Steve answered,

Your back still facing them you are sure they haven’t seen your mangled face yet,

You nod

“Good pick any room, I’m gonna have to make a run for supplies and food..”you began

“don’t worry about that, we’ve got plenty food and supplies,” Natasha says

You nodded still not facing them,

“Okay make yourselves at home, excuse me I have to check on the system…” you say walking away

After checking cameras and wire’s making sure the steel door has some counter measures in case someone tries to force their way through, you are in your workshop tweaking the AI watch you have been working on, a giant magnifying glass as you continue working on it.

your thoughts drift back to the facility….

Blood was all you could taste in your mouth your breathing ragged as one of the agents had a fist full of your hair making you look up at him after he beat the shit out of you,

“You know he is not coming for you. You might as well tell us where you last saw him or where he went.” The man says

You chuckled,

“Good as long as he and the others are safe that’s all that matters to me, you never will figure it out just like you will never crack my computer..” you say with a dry laugh

He backhanded you making you fall to the ground he started kick you,

“You will crack they all do eventually!” He says as he kicks you

********

You shake your head trying to rid yourself of memory, you look at the watch your hands were shaking you put down the tools in your hands taking a deep breath,

You hear a knock on the door,

“Yeah.” You answer it

“Hey you just-“ Nat says cutting herself off seeing your face

She gasps grabbing your chin,

“Christ Y/N! Why didn’t you say anything look at these injuries!” She said clearly upset

You pull your chin out of her grip,

“Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” You say

“Well it is!” She says pulling you out of your seat

“Are there anymore injuries?” She asked pulling your shirt up a little to see,

Natasha was shocked, not only at the injuries you have but your overall health, you were underweight pale and by the looks of it you haven’t slept in a good while.

She grabs your wrist, leading you out of the room,

“Where was the medical room?” She asked

“Second door on the right.”you say

She nods talking you there you hear a few footsteps behind you, she Ordered you to sit on the medical table,

You sighed

“Nat it’s really not-“ you began but she only pointed

You sighed sitting on the table where Steve got a real good look at your face and injuries this only made him feel more guilty, what you didn’t notice was the way Bucky was looking at you with eyes filled with sadness and anger