#it’s the longest con ever too

[bad-science]

Did I ever tell you guys how I actually performed mad science on myself. It’s not that insane but it is science and unsanctioned at the least

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m���i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he��s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Hated. Fucked. Loved.

Kinktober Day 16: Hate-Fucked

Male Rival Yandere x Male Reader CW: PAINFUL noncon, bloody non-con, oral sex, face-fucking, cum swallowing, kidnapping, non-sexual bondage, piss, reader pissed on in shower, OC hates reader then turns yandere, sadism, sadistic yandere, protective yandere, mind-broken reader, briefly feminized reader, forced crossdressing, brief display of homophobia/f-slur, psychological damage, violence, minor character death, WHUMP, angst but eventual comfort, weapons-grade Stockholm Syndrome, Dead Dove: DO NOT EAT Word Count: 4.1k (Oh lordy, this one is brutal. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Not betaread so please excuse any errors. The longest fic of kinktober and the finale. I wish you all a Scary Hexmas and hope this Hexmas time meal is filling. Don't forget to comment <3)

Will. Fucking. Hated. You.

He had ever since he first met you in grade school. It seemed that no matter what he did, you always had to show him up. The only area he seemed to do better than you was in popularity. But that just didn't fulfill him enough.

Will wanted real acknowledgment that he was better than you could ever be. He wanted it reflected in his grades and in the opinions of the teachers. He wanted absolutely everyone to see he was better than you.

He wanted you to see it, too.

But despite all of his unmitigated vitriol towards you, you always ignored it and treated him with kindness. You figured maybe he had a bad home life or some other difficulty that made him take it out on you. His behavior still made you cry sometimes... but you really wanted to make everyone like you. You were a people pleaser, and you wanted him to be happy.

But it infuriated him, stoked the embers of his hatred for you into a full-on inferno every single time you did it. To him, it was clear evidence that you thought you were better than him. That you were above him. Morally superior.

As if poor trash like you could be better than him.

He knew all your kind behavior was a farce to make him look bad. To taunt him.

One time, when Will had been out of school with a broken leg, you had gotten the entire class to join you in sending him get well cards. You had even made homemade cupcakes. He was sure you were laughing at him!!! Goading him. And convincing everyone you were so great at the same time. Fucking piece of shit.

No matter what you did in life Will couldn't stop following your path until he proved he was the better man. He was obsessed.

When you went to a small cheap college, he dutifully followed you to it. His family was immensely wealthy. He could have gone to a much more prestigious university, he could have just gotten a job in his father's company, but he didn't want to use his money or connections to prove he was better than lowly scum like you. He wanted you to see he was better in every metric.

And he had to be there to see your face when you were finally defeated.

He even went into your field so he could do the same courses. So he could prove that you were a piece of shit to be discarded in comparison to him.

Since you were going to school to be a nurse for the elderly, you saw Will's obsessive competition not as a crazy need to prove you to be inferior to him but instead as absolute proof that he was secretly a wonderful person. For how could someone so devoted to the care of the old possibly be bad? Especially when nurses were paid relatively little and he had come from such a wealthy background! It wasn’t exactly a glamorous job.

So you still treated him with kindness. It was okay that he didn't like you. Now that you knew he was actually sweet below that prickly exterior, you could laugh off all his cruel behavior towards you much more easily.

This was unacceptable to him.

When you both graduated, he even went to work at the same nursing home as you. This gave you the impression that maybe he was a bit crazy over you. But not in the way that he actually was. You thought he had a crush on you. You thought all his meanness towards you was probably internalized homophobia with his following you through life proof of him really liking you.

You made the conscious effort to make Will happier and be even nicer to him now that you were sure you knew the truth.

That isn’t how he saw you doubling down on kindness.

Taunting him. Taunting him. Taunting him. That's all you ever did. Flaunting it for years. Pretending to be unaffected by him. As if he was an insignificant speck of dust that did nothing to you. That's how he interpreted your behavior. He hated you so much.

The final straw was when you threw Will a small surprise birthday party in the break room at work. Of course, he had to pretend to love it. Eat your overly sweet homemade cake.

To him, it was the ultimate humiliation. He had to pretend to like it. To thank you for the cake and the gift you gave him. A gift card to his favorite store.

You were just so smug. Thought you had pulled a great victory over him, he was sure. It wasn't like he could say anything. If he did, he would sound crazy. No one would believe him if he told them that you threw him the party just to anger and embarrass him.

Will snapped. He didn't show it, though. He acted calm for days as he slowly readied his revenge. He readied his basement and got all the required supplies for his self-appointed task. His reason for being. To break you and get revenge for the countless times you had made a fool of him.

For days after the party, Will had acted a lot calmer and less aggressive towards you. No more mean or sarcastic comments at your expense. You thought that maybe he was finally getting to a point where he was accepting his feelings.

But you couldn't have been more wrong. Will didn’t have to retaliate to perceived slights. You were beneath him, and he was finally going to prove it to you in every sense of the word.

You had stayed late at the hospital. Will waited for you to leave and followed you out into the parking lot. You had walked to work since the weather had been so pleasant, and since it was such a short distance from your house, you had to pass through the nearly vacant parking lot to go home.

As you passed his car, Will reached out from the shadows and grabbed you. Before you could scream, he held a cloth over your mouth with a strong hand. You struggled profusely until the chloroform overwhelmed you, and your body went completely limp. Will briefly noted that you looked kind of peaceful and cute before stuffing such gross thoughts aside. He quickly tied you up and hogtied you before stuffing you into his trunk and driving off. The journal you kept in your pocket fell out in the trunk.

His house was several miles outside of town. It was a long drive, long enough for you to regain consciousness, but that’s what your binds were for.

You were understandably terrified and disoriented. You had not even seen who had grabbed you, and they hadn’t spoken either, so you had no idea who had nabbed you or what they wanted.

When the car finally stopped, you heard your attacker snicker after opening the trunk. You redoubled your efforts to break free of your binds. But the rope that held you was too sturdy for that. Your abductor picked you up with some effort and quickly carried you into a building. You could only tell because the air changed and the sound of the door closing behind you.

You began screaming and shrieking into your gag, but succeeded only in hurting your own throat. Even if the screams had not been muffled by the cloth gagging your mouth, there were no other houses within earshot of you. And this wasn’t an area with any traffic either. Will had thought this all out.

You heard the rattling of chains and felt the cold touch of a metal collar around your neck. He rummaged through your pockets to take your phone, then your clothing was peeled away, and the binds around your arms replaced with handcuffs restraining your arms painfully behind you. The gag muffling your screams was removed, and you began sobbing pleas for your freedom.

The last thing taken from you was the blindfold. You stared up in confusion, not believing for a moment who you saw. Will, looking down at you with insane erratic green eyes and a smile that left a chill on your very soul. His medium length brown hair was unkempt, adding to the terrifying visage before you.

“Wha..? Will… Plea-!!”

You were interrupted by a sharp slap to the face that made your eyes water.

“Shut the fuck up! I am the one talking here. You don’t get to manipulate me with your smug words… I have been waiting so long to put you in your place. I think we should commemorate the moment!”

The unhinged man rummaged in a drawer until he pulled out a camera and took a few pictures of your sorry state. He put the camera away and produced a sharp knife from his pocket which he then held up to your oh so delicate throat. You sobbed more fervently.

“Aw, you’re crying already? We haven’t even gotten to the fun yet! We need to pace ourselves.”

His breathing was heavy. Like he was infusing his sadistic desires into the air with each breath he pulled into his lungs.

“Let’s make one thing clear from the start, if you try to escape or fight back, I will slit your throat. Do you understand?”

You nodded shakily. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight. Even if he didn’t have the knife, he was still a very fit man.

“I am just SO excited… What should we do first… What will show I am better than you?”

As he sat down on the edge of a large bed a few feet from you and mumbled to himself you finally had a chance to catch your breath and try to calm the slightest bit down while you took in your foreign surroundings. You were in a neat, sparsely furnished room that appeared to be a basement. You were chained by the neck to a pole that was behind you. Only a scratchy blanket separated your bare skin from the cold concrete below. The bed he was on looked out of place, as if it had recently been moved down here, but it was clearly not for you.

“I know!”

Will walked up to you and pulled out his erect cock, evidently excited by having you under his control. He pressed the head of the thick appendage against your lips while smiling maniacally down at you in the same way that he had before, his meaning clear.

“Well hurry and get started then. And if you bite I think you know what will happen.”

Your jaw ached as you sucked him clumsily. It was rather large and you were rather inexperienced. It didn’t help that your hands were unavailable to help you grip the shaft to speed up the process. As he got closer and closer to orgasm he became more forceful. First humping into your mouth steadily and eventually gripping each side of your head hard and violently fucking your face until you thought you were going to pass out.

“You better not spill any!”

Finally he slammed down your throat, pressing your nose into his curly pubes, and came hard. You gagged but managed to swallow it all as he pulled out.

“Fuck. Maybe you were made to suck my cock. That was the best nut I think I have ever had. Don’t forget to clean it.”

After gasping for a moment you licked his cock clean of cum and saliva and he put it back in his pants. You had fantasized about doing things with him, but never like this.

You sobbed and asked why he was doing this, and he immediately put a stop to it by punching you in the gut, leaving you reeling.

“I still don’t want to hear your bitching.”

“You should know why. This is what you get for always looking down on me and having everyone convinced that you’re so great!”

He got in bed before continuing.

“You always thought you could compete with me, make people think you were better, outdoing me. But now you know you’re beneath me. I don’t know about you but I am tired from all the excitement, I need rest.”

Sleep did not come easily for you as painfully restrained as you still were, but eventually, you silently sobbed yourself into a state of unconsciousness. It was a fitful rest, one plagued by nightmares.

You awoke to the sight of Will leering down at you.

"Hey, sleeping beauty! I’m off this weekend, so we will have the next couple of days all to ourselves. I wanted more time, but I couldn’t take vacation right as you went missing. So we'll just have to make the best of it.”

Your lip quivered in fear of the horrors Will had in store for you. It was a warranted response. He started the day by having you gag on his morning wood and licking his nuts and dick clean of the cum that dribbled down them when he came.

You got smacked for spilling a drop, but it wasn’t as brutal as your treatment the night before.

Then he decided that you needed a shower so he hosed you down with cold water in the basement’s bathroom, the chilling concrete room had a drain in the floor making it a very convenient location for Will to torment you in as he did not need to worry about flooding. The concrete exasperated the chill. While the water was still running he took a moment to further degrade you by whipping out his half-hard cock and taking his morning piss all over you.

After that he noticed you sobbing silently again, your naked form shivering with anxiety, fear, and of course the bitter cold.

“Awe, are you crying like a little girly? Maybe you should be dressed like one then…”

A light bulb seemed to go off in your abuser’s mind.

“Hey, give me a minute!”

He tied you back up painfully before leaving abruptly. He came back with a maid outfit from a costume store down the street, it was October so it was open for Halloween.

"You look like such a slut in that, like the filthy whore you are."

You continued looking away in shame and humiliation.

"I bet you have a cunt like a girl's too. Bet you want to get railed by a real man."

"Stop it Will! A-anything but that! Please... I'm sorry!!"

That only pissed him off.

"You're not making the demands here slut!" He smacked you hard across the face, causing you to yelp.

"And you're not sorry yet... but you will be..."

He dragged you over and tossed you on the bed. You were shaking, crying into the pillowless mattress. You wanted to run but were terrified of what he would do. He was much stronger than you.

You heard the sound of him undoing his belt and pulling down his pants.

He spit on his cock and rubbed it to full length. Just enough lube so he could enter you. Not enough to do anything to bring you comfort.

The mattress sank with his additional weight as he got on. He positioned you with your ass up and moved the skirt of the maid outfit to show off your ass. You sobbed more. What had you done to deserve this? Had you hurt him somehow? Had he mistaken something someone else did for your own actions?

Will gripped your hips, nails biting into your flesh. He pulled you back hard and thrust forward at the same time. It felt like fire. His cock split your ass brutally and you screamed as loudly as you could. Will smirked. Music to his ears.

"Don't pretend that you don't want it. This is what fags like you are made for!"

A smack echoed as he slapped your ass but you didn't even register it beneath the all consuming pain of him violating you in such a brutal manner.

Will kept slamming into you over and over. Pulling out almost fully each time before thrusting back in as hard as he could. When he saw blood on his cock it only encouraged him. It wasn't like Will was into blood or anything. He wasn't really a sadist at all under normal circumstances, but he certainly was when it came to you. He was finally putting the trash that mocked and looked down on him in his place. The blood, tears, and choked sobs of pain were just evidence of that.

It felt like the violation was going on for an eternity. The burning pain was unrelenting as he mocked and teased you the whole time. You didn't even know he was talking anymore, and due to straining your voice, you could no longer scream. Will finally drove into you deeply and came hard. He stayed in a moment and let his cock twitch and pulse cum into you. He had totally owned you.

But when his anger ebbed away and he pulled out he saw the blood stained cum flow out of your abused hole. He saw your shaking crying form gripping the sheets tightly. He heard your ragged, uneasy breaths. He knew you were having a panic attack.

What was wrong? This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? To break you. But now that he had, he could only stare in horror at what he had done to you. Even if you had snubbed your nose at him and thought yourself superior, this wasn't a proportional response. Nothing could justify... this...

Will cleaned himself off haphazardly and pulled his pants back up. Then he removed the clothing from your body and picked you up.

He had to make things better.

You weren't aware of your surroundings. You had mostly withdrawn into your own mind. You kept mumbling that you were sorry over and over into his chest.

"No, no, no. Shhh. Don't be. I'm sorry. I'm the bad one... Shit, I'm so sorry..."

His words went past your ears, and you continued your chant-like apology over and over and over. Your brain just couldn't accept that someone could hate you so much without you having done something to deserve it.

Tears threatened to roll down his face, but he wouldn't let them. It was his fault. He wasn't the victim here.

Why had he done this? Because of some childish rivalry that may have only been in his head? No, he couldn't accept that it was in his head. Not yet. He couldn't just let go of the years of animosity towards you he had been harboring. But... still... he obviously took things way too far...

Will drew a bath and placed you in it gently. A stark contrast to how he had treated you up until this point. He washed you carefully, meticulously cleaning the wounds he had inflicted to prevent infection.

You slumped against the tub, eyes staring at nothing, as he washed you of all the filth and blood he had marred you with.

The rest of the weekend passed, and you had scarcely improved. You still muttered apologies and could manage to use the restroom on your own, but he had to feed you himself.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He hadn't actually planned on what to do when he was done brutalizing you. He couldn't just let you leave. There was no way he was going to prison. If he did, you'd be dumped in some psych ward and forgotten about.

He no longer needed the pictures he had taken to blackmail you as you were practically catatonic anyway. You couldn't care for yourself in this state at all.

Your abductor refused to leave you there while he returned to work, and without you 6 had no reason to go back anyway. He had been worried that it would be suspicious if the two of you disappeared on the same day, but he had your phone and just had to make up a scenario that would keep people away. Neither of you were particularly close to anyone, so it wouldn't be difficult.

The excuse he gave was that the two of you were going to move back to your hometown and get high paying jobs working for your father. He figured he could take care of you himself for a week or two while he got things worked out with his dad. Then he could take you with him to a new house there and hire a discrete caretaker to watch you while he was at work.

During the time before the move Will would sometimes get fed up with you and have to catch himself before he screamed or accused you of faking to guilt trip him.

As the week went on, he even caught himself thinking it was a bit cute when you were sleeping while he held you. He had to remind himself constantly that even though he went way too far, you were still in the wrong somewhat for how you had acted.

And then, while he was cleaning his trunk to pack your belongings he had retrieved from your place, he found your journal in his trunk and its contents finally got through to him. It detailed your crush on him and how you thought he must have one on you because of how he behaved towards you. It went on about your thoughts and feelings about your coworkers and all your interactions with them, including all the kind things you went out of your way to do to make them all happy.

It was obvious to him now that you were a real-life cinnamon roll. Part of the reason people liked you was because they could exploit your kindness, and they clearly had. And he had done far worse than that.

There was only one thing he could possibly do to even begin to make things right. He wasn't into men like you were, but he would be your boyfriend and eventual husband.

He would also make you his assistant at his new job so he could watch over you personally. It wasn't like he had to devote much time to work. He had an upper management position and could delegate most tasks. You had begun to do more basic things for yourself when directed so you could eat and sit and look busy so no one would suspect anything.

Eventually, after months of delicate, tender care, you were able to speak more and think properly again. Though you were still a nervous mess occasionally plagued by vivid nightmares that replayed what you had experienced. You never dared trying to escape. The lessons of obedience you had learned your first days with Will had been ingrained deeply within your psyche. And with your newfound anxiety, you couldn't really take care of yourself completely alone. You were dependent on him for employment.

Well, at least your boyfriend treated you kindly by that point. As if you were a porcelain doll that would crumble to dust under the slightest mean gaze.

In fact, rude employees had been fired for even shooting you a glare. And when there was a jealous bitch that had mean words to say about his darling assistant and lover? Some hired goons provided her with a broken nose one dark night.

When Will announced his engagement to you, his father objected because of your lower status and humble origins. He screamed at you directly accusing you of being a gold digging whore unworthy of his son. You curled up in the corner of the room, crying and trembling. Soon after that his father came down with a terrible case of sudden onset poisoned to fucking death with an untraceable toxin that gave him a stroke, a common enough cause of death for a man of his age.

Will wouldn't let anything threaten or hurt you. And if that meant his dad had to die, then so be it. You were his responsibility. But beyond that, what had started with him taking accountability for his actions towards you had slowly evolved into genuine love and care for you.

It took a long time, but eventually, your feelings towards him evolved into love, too. You would always be a little broken, a little fearful of him, but he was the only person you really had, he had isolated you thoroughly and was constantly in your presence, so it was inevitable that you'd start to see him in a better light.

[sharky-teeth]

top dean/bottom sam fics that perfectly exemplify why bottom sam is the best (the list got kind of super long because i'm just too passionate about this topic):

take the things you love by hathfrozen: i think everybody and their grandma knows this one but i had to include it, this is our gospel. literally changed my life.

mommy dearest by tradwifesam: if you don't like feminization, read this and see the vision.

Softly, as a morning sunrise by LaughableLament: one of my go-to authors for fun and short PWPs.

Noise Complaint by formalizing: a lesson on how to make a thousand words count!

Coast On Through by philalethia: this actually contains switching, but when i tell you it has some of the best samdean scenes ever...

Feel About the Same Most Every Day: pining that you can feel in your bones.

Like a Machine by ani_coolgirl: camboy!sam perfection.

Untouchable for Life by Sintari: another one for my camboy!sam enthusiasts.

Undertow by Molly: starts out angsty and ends with psychic sex vibes, what's not to love?

Birthday Boy by DickBaggins: sam's ass is dean's birthday present, need i say more?

Keeping it Clean by themegalosaurus: swesson filth <3

this thing, for which we break by orbiting_saturn: intense and intimate, as PWP as it comes.

Sweltering by WhoopsOK: brothers with benefits done right. slutty sam as a treat!

weecest:

With A Bit Of Spit And Luck by elsi: in my top 5 weecest of all time, which is saying something because the competition is crazy.

Bulletproof by road_rhythm: gunplay! incredible characterization, if you have a kink for guilty dean who's unable to stop himself, and pushy sammy, this is the one.

Heart of Worms by Ninni: very moody, and beautifully written.

Petulant by formalizing: another short read that hits all the right spots and leaves you wanting more.

and all is right in Dean's world by ladygizarme: loved dean's characterization here, he left me feeling unsettled.

for those like me who need some jokes with your p*rn:

The Koala Conundrum by De_Nugis: (mentions of switching) to this day, one of the most unique & refreshing stories i've read, an absolute masterpiece.

the one with aphrodisiac: this one managed to be hilarious and hot in equal measure, an amazing feat.

Incidentally, It Was Christmas by ani_coolgirl: one of my favorite fics of the year! ani's humor is impeccable! if you also believe in the sam-sexual dean truth, this is a must read.

Tongue-Tied by ADeedWithoutaName: cursed!dean unable to speak, and sam speaking for both of them, you know where this goes...

Dicks in a Box by fictionallemons: buried alive and how do sam and dean decide to spend their time? it ain't cuddling!

Versatile, Tender and Delicious by themegalosaurus: improper use of a zucchini. read and find out.

for my omega sam lovers:

Five Weeks & its sequel Three Weeks Too Late by rei_c: probably my favorite wincest a/b/o of all time! i could've read 100k of this universe, loved the details put into it.

A Blind Fool's Luck by hellhoundsprey: this is also a favorite! i remember the tension in this fic had me dizzy. this author has an incredible way with descriptions, vivid and unique writing style.

Phantom Pain by hellhoundsprey: weecest! love their dynamic here so much, great blending of a/b/o traits while keeping them in character.

Clover by hellhoundsprey: perfectly done late seasons getting together! with the right amount of schmoop. clearly this author is very dear to me lol

know the feeling by sammyatstanford: this is the longest work in this list, around 40k words, and so worth it! really enjoyed the worldbuilding.

now to my favorite flavor (bottom sam with a side of delicious angst):

Lesser Evils by Dyed_Red: [non-con] not for everyone, but definitely for me. if you love samdean at odds and suffering, this will push all the right buttons. life-changing fic.

Is It Tomorrow (Or Just the End of Time) by elsi: the angst here is so glorious. from beginning to end it's angst, angst, then more angst. there is no resolution to their issues, and i love that.

Collision Course by lovetincture: one of the most believable first time stories i've read, spot on characterization and raw descriptions. didn't shy away from the ugly side of incest.

You can run away with me any time you want by Trojie: sam leaving for stanford fic! oh this one hurts like a motherfucker. there's a line in here that's so beautiful, it lives in my brain.

his skin barely keeping him inside by hathfrozen: another banger by hathfrozen, i have a weak spot for first time in a long time stories.

No such thing as Forgiveness by hellhoundsprey: lawyer!sam getting his life sent off track when big brother comes back to the picture... the unhealthy dynamic here is to die for.

Blood sacrifice sex magic type of thing by Goshen: sam performing ritual sex to cure his demon brother... as he should.

Worship Not These False Idols by killabeez: ruby fucking sam while pretending to be dean. as amazing as it sounds.

Circles of Light by WhoopsOK: there is a "Magical Healing Ass" tag. enough said

end of list! i tried to only include works with less than 10k hits here, so someone might find something they haven't read before. i didn't include warnings, so definitely check out the tags first. all these fics are seriously amazing, i hope more people will read these gems <3

[depresseddepot]

The good thing about having parents that know fuck all about college is that if I make a mistake, they don't have to know about it and they wouldn't understand anyways. The bad thing is just about everything else

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Loneliest

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Synopsis: For the longest time, you always thought you could only see them. And then you met that priest

(Warnings: dark content, manipulation, implied non-con, geto commits elder abuse)

You're not sure what they're called, but you know they aren't good. 

Demons, you settled on calling them. They were ugly, disfigured, often garbed in dark, dull colors. Nothing about them was benevolent. You'd often see them sitting on people's shoulders, practically sucking their souls dry. The small ones were easy to ward off. Usually, they'd go away on their own after a few days. A weekend of relaxation was usually all people needed to get rid of them.

From what you knew, no one else could see them. In your younger days, it'd been isolating, terrifying. Now, you are a bit grateful none of your peers could see what you could. How they'd react, you couldn't tell. 

You barely even blink when your neighbor asks if you could give her a ride to the temple, ignoring the thing that rests on her shoulders. It's bigger than what you've normally seen, with wings and human teeth. She's an older woman, with kind smiles, rambling about how she heard that the nearby temple was offering body exorcisms, how much her back hurt. You don't mention that the monks and priests or any religious figures are all fakes who lie for money. You've never met a single priest who could see what you see. 

You say nothing because it wouldn't sway her either way. Besides, it was free. 

The temple was swathed in money, just as you expected it to be. Grand pillars, clean tile floors. Money wasted on gold staircases and shiny vases. On a whim, you followed your neighbor in anyway, passing by the temples' followers. The one thing that you did note, was the significant lack of demons in the area. 

You expected the Buddhist priest to be old, an ancient being that pretended to be wise. To your surprise, you were led to a man who might have been the same age as you, if not a bit younger. He was dressed in a monk's robe, he sat on the floor, resting his chin on his arm. A closed-lipped smile was spread across his face, dripping in faux-sweetness. 

You obediently stayed silent while your neighbor prattled on about her incident. He nodded along, but it was clear he didn't really care about what she was saying. You knew what he would do. He'd coo at her misery, give her beads that would do nothing, and send her on her way. A harmless waste of time, really. The demon won't stay forever. 

There's a twitch of his fingers. The demon leering over her body is suddenly sucked away from her, into his outstretched hand. The only evidence it leaves behind is a single marble. 

"Better?" he asks, with no change of tone. That same emotionless lilt. 

Your neighbor gushes, rolling her shoulders, saying that she's never felt this way in years. You can only watch the priest with widened eyes as your neighbor is led away by a woman with a tablet in her hand. The ball rolls along his fingers, like he too admires it. 

"How-how did you do that?" You finally ask. 

For the first time since you entered that room, his eyes meet yours. Brown, almost black. He tilts his head, wordlessly asking you to repeat yourself. 

"The demon," you press, "how did you get rid of the demon?" 

The smile slips, and he sits up ever so slowly. For a moment, you think you've done something incredibly wrong as he stands to his full height. The priest easily towers over you, you're dwarfed by his unfathomable height. He stops when he's a few feet away, assessing you. 

"You can see them," it's a statement, not a question, "the curses."

"Is that what they're called?" You eagerly ask, "Curses?" 

The smile is more real now, less manufactured. 

"You have a rare gift," he says, "truly one of a kind." 

Back then, you don't digest the supremacy of his words. You don't decipher the hidden meaning, the code, the disgust for the others. You were so happy to have finally met someone who can see them, like you could. Something like relief fills your heart, another justification that you weren't crazy. You weren't just seeing things. 

His smile grows. 

"I hope you continue to come back. I have many answers for you."

 

Over the coming weeks, you learn about jujutsu. You learn about cursed energy. You learned about sorcerers. You learn about a world you've never heard of before. A world you've always dreamed of. For the longest time, you always assumed you were the only one, that you were cursed. 

Now, you know you aren't. Not anymore. 

You aren't a jujutsu sorcerer, but you didn't mind. Master Geto (Suguru, he insisted you call him) was patient with you. Understanding. He'd sit with you for hours, even when he didn't have to, answering every question you could have for him. 

Out of guilt, you volunteered to find people who have been cursed to help with his cause. Sometimes, you'd have to spruce up Suguru's power, add a bit more science and structure to what he really does. It never backfired on you, so far. Just as he advertised, Suguru was able to collect every single curse you bestowed on him. Each person you brought in would leave refreshed and satisfied. 

As you came to spend time with the priest, you learned how wrong you were about him. When you first met, you thought he was a liar, a sham. Now, you know he's everything but. He's patient and caring towards everyone who follows him. He's so young, college-age, and yet he had even adopted two twins from a horrible house situation, taking them in as his own flesh and blood. 

On top of all his responsibilities, he still managed to make time for you. You can't imagine it's easy for him. Despite his clear passion, there's a glimmer of exhaustion in his eyes. Why does he spend so much time with you? 

You ask him that one day as the two of you walk through the gardens. He doesn't reply for a while, stopping to stare at a blooming bush of roses. 

"You remind me of someone," he says suddenly. 

You look up at him then, watching his face. A tinge of nostalgia rests across his eyes. You wonder what he's thinking of. School, homework and classes? The endless lectures, the smiles of friends. Maybe he's thinking of even older. Playgrounds and swing sets that squeak. Simpler times where he wasn't something that he is now. 

"I do?" you prod, tilting your head. He reaches out, brushing his hands against the petals, careful to avoid the thorns. 

He hums, "He is the strongest. More powerful than I could ever hope to be. He stood alone at the summit." 

He plucks the rose. The bush gives with a snap. It's a pretty color. A deep red. Almost as dark as blood =.

"It's why I always felt he was lonely," he continues, "No one else could ever understand him. It's lonely to be the only one, yes?" 

It was, you realize. It felt so lonely to see things no one else could see. No one else could relate to it, not even your parents. Your friends. You were alone for nearly decades. And then, you weren't anymore. 

"Your friend," you murmur, "where is he now?" 

Suguru peels off the last of the thorns, leaving the flower glossy and bare. 

"We didn't believe in the same things, towards the end. People change. I did, so did he," he pauses, "Sometimes, I wonder what I could have done differently that day. Perhaps we could have stayed together, if I had just changed his mind." 

You think about his friend. What their relationship was like. What it would be like to lose the only one who could ever understand you. Now that you had it, you could never imagine to lose it. 

"Either way, I don't regret my decision." 

He turns to you with a sigh, reaching out to your hair. You stay still as he tucks the flower behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin. 

"A change had to be made for humanity. Sacrifices must be made. I don't care if the people I cherish think differently." 

The petals tickle your skin. 

"I'm glad you don't regret your decision," you tell him softly, "because I'm really glad I met you, Suguru." 

He gazes down at you, his face the softest you've ever seen him be. His hand lingers by your neck a lot longer than it should. Still awed by him, you choose not to say anything about it. 

"And I, you." 

Everything was going perfectly. Until you ruined it. 

It was your fault. Your error. There's a set time that Suguru allows you to visit. You always arrive a few minutes later, because you only volunteer at the temple. You still have a job. You too have responsibilities. 

But today you arrived early. A fluke. You didn't intend on it, but you didn't think anything of it, Suguru always made time for you. And you didn't mind waiting a few minutes if he couldn't. 

The box of sweets jostled in your hold as you tucked it under your arm. By now, you recognize most of Suguru's followers, as well as the fellow monks. They greet you with too-wide smiles on their faces, the same as always. You've grown to not mind them. You pass them by with very little trouble, already knowing where you were headed. Suguru's client room was just around the corner. And you always enjoyed watching him work. 

In hindsight, you wish his followers would have stopped you, distracted you from your determination, it isn't like they didn't already know. You would have listened. Meeting Suguru was not a necessity. They could have lied for him. You could have kept the tentative friendship for just a bit longer. 

He was already with someone. Eager, and careful not to disturb, you stood just behind a pillar. You don't notice how wrong the scene looks, until you see her. He was with a woman, a bit older. There's a tiny curse on her lower back, latched onto her clothing. It won't matter, Suguru will easily get rid of it. She reminds you of your neighbor in so many ways. They were the same age too. It's why you are confused as to why she's practically kneeling on the ground, her head pressed against the floor, like she's begging. For a woman her age, that position could be a hindrance to her body. 

Still, she doesn't get up. You suddenly get this strange feeling that Suguru forced her to do this. 

It's ridiculous because Suguru is kind. He's kind and patient and-

"How many donations have you made to the temple these past few months?" 

You wouldn't have even thought it was his voice, had it not come from his mouth. He sounded so cold, mocking, cruel. 

The woman seemed to tremble even more. She pressed herself harder against the ground, as if pleading to God himself. Maybe to her, Suguru was God. 

"Please," her frail voice begs, "have mercy-" 

"Manami?" Suguru turns to his trusted assistant. You yourself have spoken few words to Manami, but whenever you caught her looking there was the slightest hint of pity in her eyes. 

Maybe this was why. 

She sighs, just as clinical as her boss, as if the poor woman's begging meant nothing to her, as did he. 

"It's been a 70 percent decrease, compared to the beginning of the year." 

Suguru turned back to the woman. She was going to injure herself-why isn't Suguru telling her to get up, why isn't he doing anything?

"You haven't made much of a contribution to the temple," he sighs like this is more of an inconvenience than anything else, "I have no use for an insignificant cursed spirit. I'm afraid I can't help you." 

She all but burst into tears, her sobs soaking the floor. You feel the numb sense of horror, misery and pain as her cries bleed into your ears. 

"Please-please Master Geto. I-I don't know how much of this I can take." 

Suguru regards her for a moment. 

"I think I might have a way to solve your problem, then." 

Slowly, she lifts her head up. You swallow at her face. Tired eyes, an exhausted look. 

"You-you do, Master?" 

His answer comes in the form of a snap of his fingers. 

It's the biggest curse you've ever seen, larger than a car. She doesn't even put up a fight, screaming and screaming and screaming. When her pitch changes, turning into something more out of horror than pain, you realize that she can see it too. 

It's a quick progression. It barely lasts a minute. The sounds of sucking and eating are so loud that it covers the sounds of the sweets dropping on the floor. They were supposed to be a gift for Suguru. You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to reward him for his kindness and patience. 

Master Geto only looks in mild disgust at the bloodbath. 

"They always die so messily," he sighs, looking at his blood-stained hands as Manami obediently hands him a towel, "Insects, that's all they are." 

For the first time, since you've met him, Suguru gives a genuine smile. 

It looks wrong. Too wide. Too many teeth. His lips curved into something thin and horrific. 

Something evil. 

It takes a week of your disappearance for Suguru to inquire why you haven't visited the temple. 

You leave the messages unopened. When he tries calling, you turn your phone off. For seven days, you stay away from the temple, away from sorcerers, and away from Suguru. 

A part of you still can't believe it. A part of you is convinced that what you saw has to be fake. Because, if it was real. If he had truly killed that woman, if he could control curses to do his bidding, then that meant for weeks-for weeks he was manipulating you. Lying to you. 

There was no if. That's exactly what he was doing. 

You sat on the couch, watching the TV in mild interest. Usually, at this time, you'd be at the temple, learning about the jujutsu world. Earlier, the lessons would fill you with a sense of awe. 

Now, you can't even think about jujutsu without thinking of Suguru next. 

Suguru mentioned he had a friend. A friend that was stronger than him, right? Could-could you find him? Could you tell him what Suguru has been doing-

"It's not very polite to ignore a person." 

You jump, wide eyes catching his figure right at the doorway. You get up to your feet, watching as Suguru casually steps into your home. Your safety. 

"How-how did you...?" You can barely get the words out. 

He understands you anyway, and out of your peripheral vision, you see a cursed spirit waddle up behind him. It coughs something out of it's throat. The remains of your door knob land by your feet. 

In any other situation, you would have been angry at Suguru's disregard for your property. Now, damage to your personal property was the last thing on your mind. 

He wasn't wearing his monk garb (A mere costume, you now realize). He had dressed in a shirt and casual pants. Out of his usual garments, he almost looks normal. Human. The exact type of person he'd spit on. 

"You haven't visited me lately," he starts, always one to get to the point. 

You shift on your feet, "I've been busy....with work. I haven't had time." 

"Really?" He tilts his head, assessing you, a hint of a smirk crosses his face like he knows you're lying. No, he does know you're lying. 

When you don't reply, when you fix your gaze on the floor, willing to God or demon or curse that he would just go away, Suguru sighs. His smile dips into a frown. The curse disappears. You feel like the room is a bit less suffocating. 

"I...apologize for what you saw," he finally says, "You shouldn't have seen it so early. I should have been more careful." 

You blink. For the first time in this conversation, you find your words. 

"Do...do you think that's what this is about?" He gives a blank look. "Suguru...you killed her." 

You expected some type of reaction. Aggressiveness, anger, defenses, excuses. You got none of that. Instead, Suguru merely hummed in acknowledgment of casual admittance. 

"I said it before, haven't I? Sacrifices must be made to change humanity." 

"That's-that's not sacrifice," it was like you were talking to a wall, repeating your point over and over again until you bashed your skull in, "that's-that's slaughter." 

"You said you were glad with my-" 

"You're killing innocent fucking people!-" 

"They're not people." 

You froze at his tone. Throughout your friendship with Suguru, you've seen him express a variety of emotions. Joy, exasperation, irritation. Never have you seen Suguru angry before. 

Never, until now. 

He stands up straighter, his hands twitch by his sides as if they're barely keeping themselves in check. His face has gone blank, like he's lost all motivation to fake his emotions now. There's no point to it, not when you know who he truly is. 

"They aren't even the same species as us," his words are quiet but you can hear the hatred and that scares you the most, "They are at the bottom of the food chain. Mere insects, parasites, that only create problems. They're not like you or me."

His smile comes back. Just as horrible as when you last saw it. 

"They're worthless." 

He's no priest, you steadily realize. He's no saint, no hero. 

"Get out."

You wish you could have made your words sound harsher, but it was barely a whisper. You couldn't even hear yourself, much less hear the venom. 

He sighs, his anger fades, the disappointment stays. 

"I understand." He nods, his voice too condescending to not be noticed. "To be perfectly honest, I expected this. You've spent your entire life with those insects, obsessing over their needs when you didn't have to. It's only natural to have an affinity for them. I did too. It's why I know, you'll feel differently in the future." 

"Fuck you," you hiss, "fuck you and your fucked up cult. You're a monster, you're a-"

He doesn't let you finish. One minute, he's across the room. The next, you feel his hand slap across your mouth as you fall back into the sofa. Your panic is immediate as he fully covers you with his body, pressing you into the cushions. 

Suguru's touched you before. You never noticed. Never cared enough to notice. They were sparse brushes of fingers against your waist, arms, shoulders. Harmless. 

Looking back, you wonder if you should have protested more against them. Maybe he'd have less courage to bury his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it would have just made it worse. 

"You're scared," he tells you, but it sounds like he's talking to himself, "It's okay to be upset." 

You scream, but it comes out as a muffled sob. Suguru's mouth trails down your cheek. He kisses the underside of your jaw. 

"You don't have to be. I promise I'll never hurt you. I cherish you too much."

He's lying. He's a liar. That's all he ever did. Lie to you. Cheat you.

When he pulls back to look at you, he almost smiles. 

"I think I'm starting to understand why he left: I let him go."

His grin gets wider.

"I don't plan on doing that with you." 

[matriarchjojo]

" WHO CARES? "

starring! : baji keisuke + bimbo gf!reader

cw! : voyeurism, groping, public, dub-con(but it's actually con), baji being horny and sleepy, short, mitsuya and draken are there too so, mdni, readers skin color is not mentioned. Not completely proofread.

Baji was waiting in front of your apartment complex after he texted you that you should come down to him. He tapped his boot against the concrete as he was leaning against his bike.

He was so tired, the longer you take coming down to him the more he just wants to come up to you and fuck you sore.

He's had the longest day at uni, controlling his temper really takes it's toll on him more that he'd like to admit.

And the only thing that can calm him down again is you and your God crafted body.

"Keiii! Hii!" He heard your gorgeous voice yell excitedly behind him, "'bout time you showed up-" he started before turning around to look at you.

You were wearing the tiniest strapless dress he had ever seen, he could just pull your dress a certain way and you'd be exposed. And that's not the worst of it, you weren't wearing a bra and the breeze of the cold air caused your nipples to poke the tight fabric of the dress.

As your heels clacked over to him. baji didn't even have the strength to control his own cock, so he was just rock hard as you pressed your soft and tiny compared to him body against his own. You smiled up at him before pressing a sticky kiss to his cheek, leaving a glossy mark behind. "How was your day, baby?" You asked sweetly with your hands on his shoulders, expectedly awaiting his answer. Did you have to look so fucking sexy today?? He hated how well dressed and composed you always are, your makeup and manicure are always making him want to fuck all the hard work up and have it running down your flushed cheeks while he's fucking you like a feral animal, leaving you completely sore for the next two weeks.

"Sucked. Let's just go so I can get this over with" he groaned at the thought of having to go to a toman meeting while he's torn between just sleeping and fucking you all night. But there was no way around it.

"Awe baby…let's go so you can tell me about it when we get back, kay?" You smiled and hopped on his bike.

Baji almost choked on his own spit as you sat down and your dress raised up your plush thighs, exposing your panties. He coughed and just quickly got on the bike himself,

most men would tell you to go change but baji's mother raised him right, he was in no position to tell a woman what to wear. Even if it is distracting him.

As the two of you were driving to the meet up, baji constantly shifted on his bike, his hard cock was just getting really, really uncomfortable. Especially since you kept on pressing your tits against him and running your nails over his abdomen telling him "I missed you so much today, Kei…" in that sweet and soft voice too..you fucking knew what you were doing, and you knew he wouldn't say anything.

The second you arrived, most toman members were already there. He just hoped he didn't have to talk all that much, cause it was hard to talk when you're tired as fuck and your cock is threatening to take control of all your sensible thoughts.

He got off his bike and you followed, but only to sit with your back against the handles of the bike. Baji kissed your temple after you switched seats, making you smile widely.

As he was towering over you and you were looking up at him so innocently and his hand caressed your warm cheek, he heard chifuyu running up to the two of you, interrupting the tender moment.

He rolled his eyes that he had to take his attention away from you, as chifuyu was talking to him baji never stopped stroking your cheek. "Mikey isn't here yet..I think he'll be late." Chifuyu said casually. Baji audibly groaned and threw his head back in frustration "that fucking dumbass.." he cursed "what's wrong?" The blonde man asked

"I had a long fucking day and just wanna get this shitty fucking meeting over" you tilted your head and pouted "Kei..baby." you said, taking the hand on your cheek "c'mere.." you said, tapping the free seat in front of you.

Baji didn't care if he was in public and showing you affection, he loves his pretty girl, and he sure as hell is not gonna stop treating you like his little princess just because people are watching.

He didn't even hesitate for a second before sitting back down and letting you hug his head against your plush chest.

Chifuyu just awkwardly coughed as he tried so hard not to look at your tits and thighs, last time a guy tried to hit on you his jaw got dislocated.

Baji put his hands on your lower back "you can go chifuyu." He murmured with his eyes closed.

Chifuyu nodded before he politely smiled at you and started to leave the two of you to it.

You waved with a smile before turning back to your sleepy boyfriend "are you okay, baby?" You asked softly, running your nails through his hair to gently scratch his head. The calming feeling of your nails on him just turned him on even more, making the long haired man look up at you "don't worry about it, princess.." he said before turning his head again and laying it between your tits.

He looked around and saw how most guys stare at you two, he cant fucking blame 'em, he'd stare at you too. He just didn't like that THEY were staring at you.

They were lucky that he didn't have the energy to fight anyone tonight.

But as he was pushing you closer to him, forcing you to arch your back and pressing his head tighter against your chest he just raised his hand up and grabbed at your tit suddenly.

You gasped and your thighs, that were placed on both of his own, twitched.

"Kei!..what are you doing?" You whispered at him. Though your words protested, your body didn't.

You pushed up against him as his thumb brushed over your hard nipple covered by the thin fabric of your dress. Baji heard the guys whisper among themselves as they were shamelessly staring at him fondling his girlfriend.

"M' just touchin' my girl…" he calmly replied to you as his other hand reached down behind you to grab at your plush ass, making you let out his favorite noise, a tiny surprised gasp.

"Baji! The guys are watching!" You whispered again softly clawing at his back.

It was cute of you to think he even cared for a second, besides he's not fucking you infront of them…even though he totally would.

"Who cares baby..just focus on me" he hummed.

Baji knew you were trying to hold your beautiful whines back since the two of you are In public and have a very perceptive audience, but who could blame you when your hot boyfriend had his strong hands on your ass and your tits.

Baji sighed against you as he felt your body shiver, he didn't see or feel it but he knew you were getting so wet. You're a dirty girl and baji knew that all to well.

His Hans kept massaging your soft tit but it wasn't enough for him, so he casually just slipped your dress down to immediately grab your tit again and suck your hard nipple into his mouth "b-baji!" You yelped, but only half-heartedly tried to push him off. You absolutely loved the feeling of bajis hot lips and tongue on your nipples, and baji loved it even more, it was calming to him but also so fucking hot.

Meanwhile mitsuya stood in viewing distance, he's not one to stare at women, cause he was also well raised by a mother. But he just couldn't bring himself to stop staring at your squirming cute form.

Mitsuya wasn't the only one though, draken was lucky that Emma wasn't here cause she'd probably beat his ass for staring for as long and intensely as he did. It was just something he didn't expect to see tonight.

"She's quite something, isn't she?" Mitsuya said outloud, making hakkai turn around to see what Mitsuya was talking about, just to freeze up entirely at the sight of bajis pretty girlfriend getting her tits sucked.

Baji didn't even notice his friends looking, he was too enamored by the indescribable feeling of his beautiful girl writhing and gripping on his bike, knowing you're torn between giving into ecstasy and feeling beyond embarrassed.

Baji hummed as he kept swirling his tongue around the hard bud, "feel so good, baby.." he groaned before sucking on it again and pressing you closer against him with the hand on your ass, gripping it tighter and making you feel his hard cock against your quivering pussy. You let out a fucking beautiful moan before you covered your mouth with your manicured hand as the cute pendants on your silver bracelet jingled in the process.

"B-baji, please.." you whimpered, making him open his eyes and look up at you through his pretty lashes and then letting your nipple go with an obscene pop, after he did so he covered your nipple with his hand to shield it from the hungry gazes of his men and friends. "Please what, baby?" He grinned, grinding his clothed cock against your poor cunt, making you cover your mouth again as you gasped, but baji stopped you from holding it there, he wanted to hear you. "P-please…let's just go.." your shy words Made him grin and pull your dress back up to cover your beautiful tits "I can't just leave baby.." he teased, making you whine and look up at him through your long and thick lashes. "Please, kei..I need you..so bad, right now" you sighed, shifting against his cock. "Please.."

Baji immediately stood up to pick you up and place you back on your backseat before he grabbed your pretty face to aggressively make out with you, groaning and moaning into your mouth as his tongue tried to to Impossibly deeper into your mouth. It was hard not to grind on the seat of his bike as he did so, his animalistic groans always made you so wet

"My little slut.." he whispered against your lips as he grinned and then bit his bottom lip with his sharp teeth. "Let's go baby..fuck this meeting." He chuckled and got on the bike in front of you, making you wrap your arms around him again and avoid all the gazes you had on you "gonna fuck you so hard when we get home.." he said quietly while stroking your arm that was holding his abdomen as tightly as you possibly could.

He then let the engine of his bike roar before he drove off..

Mitsuya chuckled "we'll just tell mikey that baji was busy" draken huffed "but don't tell him what he missed, he'll be pissed then."

[mayullla]

Yandere Tighnari 🌺🦋

Title: A Little Chocolate Test

Character(s): Tighnari (Genshin Impact) Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, Fem!reader, dubious consent, dubious/non con use of aphrodisiacs, yandere themes, yan Tighnari, 1k words

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You didn't remember clearly how you got here. There was a heat in your stomach as you looked lovingly at the man in front of you. You had always had a crush on this person for a long time. His cool hand gently held your face as you leaned towards him, in a daze. If he did not hold you in his arms, you feared you would have already slumped to the dirt floor, lacking energy to move, unable to make clear, solid thoughts.

"One more." Something touched your mouth. A familiar smell of chocolate, somewhat melted, left marks on the gloves of the man that you liked while also leaving some on your lips. "Come on, open up your mouth. You can do it."

It was difficult to do, yet you followed, weak to his words. Your face was already hot, not from the humidity, but because of the boiling that you felt within you, worsened under his stare as he looked down at you. His eyes looked at you like you were something to be studied, examining you made you feel like you were naked under him. You felt exposed, embarrassment seeping into your veins, wanting no more than to hide.

"Hmmm, so this is what happens when you eat those chocolates. I must say you are quite knowledgeable with your work. Where did you find out that this plant had aphrodisiac properties?" He asked you, mumbling half of the time. You groaned, head unable to concentrate on his words, yet your body was still so sensitive to his voice.

"Hmmm, I guess it would be hard to get an answer right now," Tighnari mumbled to himself, moving your hair away from your face. Both of you were on a fallen tree in the middle of the forest. In the middle of nowhere, you barely remembered that Tighnari had sent the other forest rangers away, but you could not remember the reason.

You didn't know when they would come back, as your attention was still on him. He was the one you had a crush on for the longest time. You were once both students in the same Darshan Amurta. You always had an interest in biology, unique plants, and fungus, and you wanted to learn and know more when you saw him.

For the longest time, it had always been an innocent crush. It was difficult to get closer to him when everyone always crowded around him, wanting to get his opinion on something or learn a little more. Even if you had a chance, your tongue was tied, and it was difficult to hold a conversation with him long enough for something to happen.

When he graduated, you could only watch from afar, smiling with a little sadness in your heart as he left. You thought that was the end, as you watched him leave from afar, thinking it was the last time you would ever have the chance to grow closer to him.

Your mind was too muddled to continue thinking, and you were too drugged to remember anything as he helped you push the next chocolate into your mouth, muttering to himself that he was curious about something. How did you end up in his arms? How did this happen?

"You know, I wasn't surprised when I smelled the chocolates on you when you arrived. I heard that you had been curious about the concept of chocolate being a natural aphrodisiac." You were having a difficult time breathing, feverish, yet just for a moment, you were lucid enough to realize that you were leaning on your crush's arms. When did he move you closer to him?

"Ah- No, no. Don't do that. You are too dazed right now; you will fall and hurt yourself." Tighnari huffed a sigh as he brought you closer to him while pushing another small bit of chocolate past your lips when you somehow finished the last one. You groaned again, moaning in suffering of this craving of lust. The light touches of Tighnari sent chills down your spine, yet at the same time, a torment for you who wanted more, yet as drool fell from your lips, unable to coherently make words except grunts, too dazed to form sentences.

"You have always been a romantic, even when we went to the academy. I sometimes caught you daydreaming and in a daze. It was quite cute, to be honest with you." None of his words were registering in your mind; you were too limp in his arms. "I was always curious as to what you were thinking; imagine my surprise when I heard you guys talking about me." He chuckled as if reminded by something, probably something that was supposed to be meant for only you and your friend. "It was disappointing to leave the academy, I must say, when I know that you were still there. But what to do, I was needed somewhere else... I guess you would not hear me now."

You moaned in complaint when he tried to move you again, unable to move as much as you tried to run away from his hands that you thought were trying to pull you away from him. His laughter as he told you that it was okay, his tail moving to curl around you. "Hmmm, you are quite cute like this too." His voice so close made you flustered, yet instead of recognizing your pain and lust, he laughed his hand stroking your back making it even more unbearable for you.

He was teasing you.

"I was curious as to how much you have done with your research on this chocolate. Seems like it is still a work in progress… but I actually quite prefer this outcome." You didn't realize your hand was held by him, fingers interlocked with each other, yours too weak to move anymore as he brought your hand near his lips. You didn't see the chocolate mark near his lips as he kissed the back of your hand. "Don't worry, I will take care of you."

[muntitled]

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡

Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader I Brief!Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: you ought to not be surprised by Farleigh's constant cheating. You should, instead, use his greatest adversary to get back at him.

Warnings: Language, Dark fic, Mentions of Violence, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Drug Use, Smut (+18), Public Sex, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dub/Con, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Threats, Rough Sex, Sadism, Masochism, Dry Humping, Orgasm Denial,Cervix fucking, Dom!Oliver, Subspace, Corruption Kink, Humiliation,

This film opened my brain and spilled out everything inside.

𖤓

Because neither you nor Farleigh had ever been modest about your relationship, Oliver was made privy to every single bit of it. You both were so indiscreet and so hellbent on showing everyone else that you were together, it felt as if Oliver lived in your skin.

Whenever you and Farleigh cuddled drunkenly, Oliver was made privy. Whenever you and Farleigh exchanged sexually charged glances across the dinner table, Oliver was made privy. Whenever Farleigh was touch-starved and sank his claws around your throat, Oliver, always skulking in the background, was made privy. Whenever you two fucked. He was there.

Oliver could hear the two of you eating each other alive during a majority of his stay at Saltburn so he should be used to this behavior by now.

“What a slut,” Farleigh's words are wrapped in humid sweat, with his hands locked firmly around your throat, “What a good fucking slut.”

Oliver, having just decided to take a midnight stroll, watches from the shadows as Farleigh takes you right there in the courtyard. He may not particulary fond of Farleigh, still Oliver had to applaud that he at least had the decency to ravage you in secret. Oliver remains watching, not because it gives him any sexual gratification, but only because he did not imagine your sex lives to be this visceral… certainly not this animalistic.

“You are fucking filth, you know that?” Farleigh asks, rutting into you with your back pressed against a stone surface. Instead of your eyes fluttering shut, you were gazing over Farleigh's shoulder, staring straight ahead at the shadow skulking in the darkness.

Oliver held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep your mouth shut.

You watch each other as Farleigh fucks into you, continuing his words of mindless praise. “Gorgeous fucking filth-” and you both cum at that. Farleigh with his eyes shut, and you, with your mouth hanging open and your gaze stationed on Oliver.

Before this exact moment, Felix was the only thing that existed in Oliver's whole wide world. He did not notice you, but never ever think that he was not aware of you. In fact, as far as Oliver knew, you held no standing of any official significance in Saltburn.

Beyond, of course, being Farleigh's overcompensated whore.

You were almost as inescapable as Farleigh, but not nearly as annoying and for the most part, you played the role of a good little girl, forever glued to her unfaithful boyfriend’s side.

These are the thoughts that pollute Oliver’s mind as he drifts through the vibrancy of his own party, having left the maze and Felix's limp body in it.

Oliver's feet, clad in all-too-expensive Italian leather only seem to weigh him down as he drifts aimlessly through the egregious castle. Neon lights spill over a carpet stitched with cocaine and he has to fight the urge not to shove past the drunken bodies congesting his pathway.

For the longest time, Oliver was convinced that you were one of them: These people disguised as parasitic waste dancing underneath the moonlight, celebrating his supposed birthday. Instead, Oliver finds you here, taking up space in the Blue Room with your figure helplessly draped over the bed.

Your form is reminiscent of The Nightmare. One of Oliver’s most beloved paintings, reason being, because it was so unequivocally dreadful. He watches you as he would The Nightmare.

Your eyes are wet and your body is wracking with pitiful sobs into your forearm. Ollie may not be good at emotions but he can tell you're distraught- like one of Fuseli's girls.

Soon, the whole thing becomes too uncomfortable to watch and he clears his throat as he says,

“Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here.”

“Oh-Ollie!”

Your shoulders shoot up, and you nearly jump off the bed in apparent fright. Your eyes are wide saucers and your skin is dark in the moonlight. Ollie has to resist the urge to lick his lips.

He wanted to fucking eat you alive.

“Fuck, did I scare you?” He hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller than he usually was. “My apologies.” He had to appease you somehow in your startled state and you You quick to press a shaky palm to your cheeks, utterly devestated to find the surface of your skin wet and salty.

Out of all the parasites in this nest, you were the least bloodthirsty.

“How utterly embarrassing,” you coo, before wiping furiously away at your cheeks.

Sensing the perfect opening, Oliver steps over the threshold, polluting the space, as he did the rest of Saltburn, with his presence alone.

“Where'd you come from?” You ask before sitting up at the edge of the bed.

“Murdering my best friend.” Oliver answers cooly, with his wooden horns silhouetted by the moonlight.

As he creeps closer the moonlight highlights the crevices of your face and Ollie is able to capture the smile that cracks across your visage. He loves that.

You are so deliciously routine.

“Understandable,” you calmly shoot back, “Sometimes I could just fucking kill Farleigh myself.”

How curious. You thought he was joking.

“That's why you were crying, then?” Ollie asks, as he skulks about the Blue Room. He glides his finger across the dusty mantle before turning his eyes back to you, “You were crying because of Farleigh?”

He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

Your glittery brows curve again above your puffy eyes, just as your lips protrude into a shaky pout. Fuck he was so painfully hard.

“You'd rather eat glass than hear about my common relationship problems,” you chuckle, fighting back a sob.

“I'd rather eat glass than get back to that stupid party.” And his eyes are so genuine, you immediately believe him. “You'd be saving me, he says, before finally planting himself down on the bed beside you. “Promise.”

“Not much to tell honestly,” You shrug, causing the left string of your cocktail dress to fall off your shoulder. You leave it there. “ You know how Farleigh can be... He has somewhat of a-”

“-Communal penis?” Ollie interjects, “Fucking anything and everything that even vaguely gives him the time of day?”

“Exactly!” and before you know it, you're giggling in the dark with a stranger. “I get tested for STD's like I'm a fucking invalid-”

“The sexiest fucking invalid I've ever come across.” He's closer now. Close enough to tell you've been drinking.

With your eyes trained on his full lips, a thought strikes you suddenly. "Happy birthday, Ollie.” That is enough to snap his gaze up from your exposed collarbone, and up to your big, round eyes. He does not respond for several seconds, promtpting you with the devestaing thought that you might have struck some unforseen nerve.

“H-ave I upset you?” You ask in such genuine concern and naivete, it nearly causes Oliver to cum in his fucking pants. He needed to defile you so badly. He needed you to cry around his cock. He just needed you-

“'Course not," Oliver clears his throat before unclenching and clenching his wired fist, "It's just-you're the first person that's said that to me all night.” Your eyes are hazy now, with your brain having caught on to the very daunting fact that you're in a room with someone who perhaps has other intentions. He is leaning in before slithering his calloused hand on your thigh. Never ever do you move away. Never ever do you tell him off.

“I find that hard to believe-” your bones are rattling as the warmth of his palm spreads to the inside of your steadily opening thighs. “Surely Felix must've said-”

“Fuck fucking Felix- the world doesn't revolve around him!” You're corralled into silence, with this man steadily pushing you back against the bed. “We don't need to talk about Felix,” he looks absolutely ravenous as the tips of his fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

It's so blatantly filthy, you cannot help but arch your back off the bed and press yourself further against his fingers. “F-Fuck… Ollie-” your breathing is laboured and Ollie watches utterly mesmerised by the way your hips move against his hand.

“I h-heard something about you-”

“What did you hear?” asks Oliver before pulling down your soaked underwear.

“That you don't care about fucking on menses.” You say, awaiting a response but getting none because Oliver stuffs his face between your legs. He's eating you out with absolute fervour, with his nose bumping periodically against your clit.

“Where'd you hear that?” He mumbles against your cunt.

He did not expect to be so utterly taken by you. This is wholly unexpected.

“A certain bottled blonde- FUCK- J-Just like that- please, God, please-”

He only pulls away, only to shrug off his blazer. With his horns and his cock indenting against his pants, he looks absolutely terrifying, that only has you rutting in the air helplessly.

“You mean Venetia is not a real blonde?” He asks before shoving his face in between your legs once more, “I feel betrayed.” The sarcasm drips from his tongue. The same tongue that slithers out his mouth to lick hurriedly against your cunt. He suctions his lips against your hole, as if he wanted to taste inside you.

“I didn't fuck her-” He pants, before pushing his nose against your cunt, “I didn't fuck her all the way- FUCKING BITCH-” Sharp pain bleeds from his scalp because your fingers and its acrylics are buried in his hair now.

“G-God, yes, Ollie-” you're actively rubbing your cunt against his face, absolutely using him to get off. Almost immediately, Oliver immediately decides that won't do.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks, before pinching your clit causing you to still your movements completely. Your torso is wracking with sweat and your nipples pierce through the softness of your dress.

“O-Ollie P-please-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks before removing his face from your cunt all together. You try desperately, to hold your moan, but the sight of him crawling up your torso seems enough to almost have you cumming untouched.

You fight against it. You fight against the warmth in the pits of your stomach, you fight against the urge to hump mindlessly into the air until your cunt creates friction with… something. You fight hard.

His breath is warm against your face, but never once do you look away.

“I use you,” he whispers before slithering a hand around your throat.

He squeezes.

“And I'd fucking die before I ever let it be the other way around.” He squeezes and squeezes until you're tapping furiously against his palm.

“Look at how gorgeous you look when you're not being a filthy fucking whore.” You can't help it. Your hips immediately buck up into nothing despite your shortness of breath. You're clawing at his wrists, hoping he'd ease his grip but Oliver does nothing of the sort. In fact, he only moans at the sight of your eyes sinking to the back of your head-

“Fucking, fuck-” He curses, before quickly undoing the vexing buttons of his pants. “Bloody disgusting,” he says, watching the drool ease out your mouth, “You are bloody disgusting-” he sinks into you the very moment he eases his hand away from your throat. You're gulping generously at the air as Oliver slaps against your cheeks, bringing you back to the land of the living.

“There she is,” he punctuates his sentence with a violent thrust, “There she fucking is-”

Pleasure and pain shoot through every channel of your body until you can't even decipher the two. “OH MY FUCKING GOD-”

“I love when you call me that, baby,” He mumers with his eyelids heavy, “I fucking love when you call me that, with your pretty fucking voice, you USELESS fucking bitch-”

It is absolutely sick and absolutely deranged. Every other word that skates out of his mouth is a contradiction of the last and you're utterly frightened of the beast taking you so roughly.

“You're taking it so well-” he whispers, before letting his hand squeeze your nipples through your dress, “Your cunt is taking my cock so fucking well, baby- Fuck-” when the head of his cock presses to that sensitive pillowy plushness, you're wailing in the dark like a banshee. Wanting to push him off of you, but not wanting the pleasure to end. Your struggle only brings him closer and closer to edge.

“I-Is that your fucking cervix, baby- Fuck-”

“Oh God- Ollie.”

He nods, “Now you're gonna cum for me, yeah? You're gonna cum for me and you're gonna think about your stupid cunt of a boyfriend. How he doesn't fuck you like I do-” your orgasm has already started to trickle in and your hips lift up to collide with his, “Tell me- Tell me you can't fucking live without me-” He says, “I need it to cum, tell me, tell me-”

“I need you, Ollie.” His lips stutter open, just as his thrusts become shallower and shallower “I need you to fucking live, Ollie-”

“FUCK- oh fucking fuck-” his spunk fills your insides, just as the entirety of your orgasm washes over you and you immediately realize that you're crying. You're crying because everything feels so good. Oliver has completely strummed you to orgasm. He has moulded your body into everything he needs it to be.

“I fucking use you.” He says, “Not the other way around.”

[inez-winchester-cameron]

hear me out rafe x jj’s gf!reader 👀

u know how both rafe and jj go crazy on their bikes… its the usual kooks vs pogues hatred maybe during the bonfire, but instead of throwing punches rafe wanted to have a race with jj instead to ‘settle things’. and he wanted to bet on jj’s girlfriend whereas if he won, he got to keep her and do.. things.. yk..

cw: darkish!rafe x jj'sgf!reader, non-con recording, bets regarding sex, minor jj x reader, smut

notes: im going feral over this tbh

"ready to settle things?" rafe asks, coming face to face with jj. they both stare at eachother with hatred. the pogues and kooks gather at an old dirt backroad.

"im gonna kick your ass," jj growls, "i win, you leave us the hell alone."

"deal," rafe agrees, "whats in it for me?"

"i don't kick your fucking teeth in that's-"

"you let me fuck your girl."

your heart drops and you pause. you stand off to the side, wrapping jj's sweatshirt around yourself in the cold night air. jj pauses too, furrowing his brow, "hell no! i don't even-"

"jj, it's fine," you speak up, "you'll win, i know it." you say with a smile, only partially believing your words. jj takes a deep breath and nods, composing himself. you make eye contact with rafe and he smirks, licking his lip.

"deal," jj reluctantly agrees. you anxiously fidget with jj's hoodie strings as they get on their bikes.

"it's okay, jj'll win," sarah reassures you, "rafe's a city boy at heart."

3, 2, 1. and they're off. you watch as the bikes speed off, it's a loop that takes about three minutes when jj goes full speed with you on his bike. you can't deny that your mind wanders, thinking about what would happen if rafe won. you had heard rumors about him, what he's like in bed, how big his di- no you shouldn't be thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself. jj's going to win, for sure.

the longest two minutes and thirty seconds ever, you see jj and rafe come back into view. you can't see who's winning, they're too far away. and once again, your heart drops when a bike crosses the finish line, and it's not jj.

"fuck!" jj screams, throwing his helmet down, as rafe gets off his bike. rafe simply smirks, knowing why jj is pissed.

"it's okay, you'll get her back tomorrow, pogue." rafe pats him on his shoulder and heads towards you but john b. and pope stand in front of you, jj joining them shortly after.

an argument ensues, rafe insisting that a deal is a deal and his friends backing it up and the pogues insisting that it isn't fair to you. after a good few minutes, you speak up.

"guys! it's okay!" all the boys pause and stare at you in disbelief.

"it's one night, i'll be fine," you reassure them, "a deal's a deal." jj tries convincing you otherwise but there's absolutely no use, rafe won.

-

rafe pushes you down onto his bed, kissing you hungrily, "i'll make you feel better than that pogue ever did, princess. you're gorgeous, too gorgeous to be with a dirty pogue."

"r-rafe.." you whimper out, loving the feeling of his lips as they trail down your jaw and neck. you soak through your panties as he toys with you, taking his time.

he slips your shirt off and unties your bikini top you had on underneath, sighing when he sees your tits, "knew you had pretty fucking tits, you let jj see these?"

"y-yes.." you admit as rafe leans down and uses his mouth to give some attention to your tits.

"he's undeserving." rafe says, and after a bit more foreplay, he's shoving his cock into you.

"oh god! you're so big, jesus!"

"that's right, baby, keep talking," rafe says, fucking you slow and deep, "say my name like a prayer, sweet girl." he rubs your clit as he fucks into you, holding your hip with the other hand, "bet jj never makes you feel this good, huh? your poor pussy is squeezing me so tight, he must not be taking proper care of her."

you don't respond, your eyes rolling back as his pace picks up. your tits bounce as he fucks into you and you don't even notice the phone in the background of his room, recording every single moment. your pussy squeezes rafe tight, wanting him more and more.

rafe groans, "shit- fuck- such a pretty pussy. might have to come back for more of this. we'll keep it a secret from your boyfriend, mkay?"

"m-mkay.." you slur out, cock drunk. without warning, your cunt pulses wildly around his cock, making him pause and speed up.

"that's it, cum on my cock. im gonna fill you up, got it? maybe i'll get you pregnant, then you can be mine forever."

you don't make any effort to stop him as he cums inside, even though you don't even let jj do that. rafe pulls out and cleans you up, getting up after. as you rest in bed, oblivious to what he's doing. he grabs the phone and sends the video to jj with the caption, 'sorry man, she's mine now. made her pussy all mine, have fun jerkin' your dick to this. fucking cuck.'

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting.  Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it) 

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA!  I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets.  Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.  

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody,  a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys. 

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

 “What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?” 

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss.  Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke.  Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks. 

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you. 

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body.  The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close.  His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free.  It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you.  The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender.  "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me.  You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence.  You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  You were so hurt and confused.  That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?” 

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.”  he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that.  Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you.  “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours.  The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,”  he whispered, as he looked down at you.  His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own.  “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so.  Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek.  With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.  

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes,  slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft.  Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer.  “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own.  He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline.  His other hand on your chest continued its exploration.  It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater.  The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that?  Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me.  I wanna hear you moan for me.”  

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat.  “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”  

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses.  “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.  

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase.  Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you. 

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there. 

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“This is too much.” you said hoarsely  “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

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Thank you for reading.  Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

[pinguwrites]

Ooooh, what about this? Future!reader accidentally time traveled to 1940s when she met William Killick, and he had to take care of her due to injuries she had. She ended up staying with him while rejecting his advances because she was trying to find a way to go back to future, and it wouldn’t be fair to him if she were to accept his advances, but she didn’t know William was sabotaging the solutions to ensure she would stay with him forever.

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL LIKE HOLY SHIT. I was about to write something like this with Tommy in Black Heart, but I opted out, and I hadn't even considered this with William, so I'm so glad you requested it!!

this was supposed to be a short-length fic lol, it's like the longest thing I've ever written on here

Home Is Where the Heart Is ⸻ William Killick

pairing | william killick x future!reader

summary | You don't think much of the box when it arrives at your front door. That is, until you open it and are transported decades into the past. There, you fall into the arms of a handsome soldier, who is intent on making you stay.

word count | 9k

Warnings: DUB-CON, possessive!william, future!reader, period typical sexism it's okay when it's william, reader has a software job, weird time travel plot (who knows how the box got there? it's totally not going to be revealed in part two ;) ), mentions of war, reader simps so hard, p in v sex, breeding kink

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: I'm honestly not too proud with how rushed it was, but I'm glad it's out there. I'm definitely doing a part two. Be warned for errors.

You were lying in a field of grass, tall, bushy trees lining the area around you. You seemed to be in some type of countryside because in the distance you could faintly see quaint little houses and farmland (at least, you assumed it was; your vision was awfully blurry), but other than that, you had no clue as to where you were.

“Ah,” you hissed, noticing the cut on your body. When you arrived — however that happened — you had scrapped your arm on a sharp rock embedded in the dirt, and now it was bleeding, red blood trickling down your arm.

You sighed miserably, trying to make sense of the situation.

Yesterday, a packaged box arrived on your front doorstep. No address, no company, just a note in pen, To [Y/n] [L/n]. You were a little wary of its contents but brought it inside anyway. You opened it and uncovered a machine, steel and simple in its construction, yet difficult to understand. There was no instruction manual or labels for the buttons, and it took you a while to know if you were even looking at it right, the only hint being the Roman numerals inside the dials.

After tinkering around with it, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were in a completely other place. All you had on were your clothes, some money, and your phone, which, surprise surprise, had no signal, so all you could do was look at your downloads — completely useless — and take a photo. 

I must’ve been drugged, you thought, still feeling hazy. I should have called the cops the moment I realized something was off.

You got up and took off your socks, trying to stop the bleeding with it. It wasn’t the most hygienic, but it was all you had at the moment, and you weren’t about to tear off pieces of the shirt you had on, especially not when you were already shivering. 

The contraption had traveled with you, and though you were aware it was the reason you were here in the first place, you thought it better to bring it along, as evidence. You could show it to the government, and they could use their little science ways to find the culprit. All would be fine.

All will be fine.

You started walking. You didn’t have any shoes on for protection, so it was difficult to step across the dirt, with all its rocks and insects swarming about, but you managed to get to grass quick enough, and it felt much better, almost healing to walk barefoot on the softness of mother nature.

But you didn’t get very far. Eventually, your stomach started grumbling, and you felt like your intestines were twisting inside with desperation. Your sock was now red, and your hand was trembling, so with a defeated sigh, you let go, of both the sock and the heavy machine, allowing the blood to flow freely. You bent over to pick the sock back up first, but the sudden movement made your head reel, and before you knew it, you were out again.

+++

“You’re awake,” a voice said, a male’s voice, a British accent that sounded like butter. Oh, butter, if you could get your hands on that alone you would be satisfied. 

You opened your eyes, blinking. A figure, with pale skin and dark hair made it’s way over to you, and in a panic, you crawled away, eyes darting across the room. You were on a bed, bandages on your arm, but before you could calm down or even begin to think properly, panic took over, your heart rate elevated, and you sighed, before passing out again.

+++

For about the third time today, or however long you were out, you woke up. This time your vision was much clearer, but you still had this nasty migraine in your head. You were sick inside, the kind of sick that happens when you haven’t eaten in a while but can’t eat because you feel like you’ll throw up. 

You wondered if you were in the same place again. You remembered a man, with a soothing voice, but he wasn’t here right now. Though the possibility that you had been kidnapped entered your mind, you noticed the lack of bonds and chains on your body. He was probably just helping you, you reasoned.

You slowly got out of bed, wincing at the shooting pain in your arm. You observed your surroundings. The bedroom was very minimalist, and . . . quirky. You loved the design and the materials used, as it reminded you of a cottage, but there was nothing helpful in sight. All the technology you could see, like the kitchen, needed to be updated and was worn out. There was some type of record player, or CD tape, or whatever that was called, on one of the counters and a radio beside it. 

You didn’t bother with any of that. You were thirsty, throat dry and gnawing at you, so you went to look for water, hoping that whoever lived here didn’t go out and get it from a fucking well. He probably does. Look at this place!

“Shit!” you swore, your knees buckling from underneath you. You felt so weak and miserable and vulnerable. It hit you at this moment that you were probably a hundred miles away from home, in a strange place in a strange home you’d never seen before. How were you going to get back? What were you going to do?

Tears started welling in your eyes. You hated that you were being so emotional. Why couldn’t you toughen up and deal with the situation like a proper adult?

You leaned onto the counter, trying to balance yourself, when the front door opened up, and the man you saw before walked in, carrying a bag full of vegetables and other foods. He quickly placed the bag down and held you in his arms, his warmth comforting and relaxing.

He had short, dark hair, and a sharp jawline, and from this distance, you could see light freckles scattered across his cheeks. He had the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen, like glaciers, like the ocean. Fuck, he was so handsome. 

“Here,” he said, guiding you back to the bedroom. He set you down on the bed, gazing at you with such intensity, like adoration or devotion. 

“W-who are you?” you asked, voice cracking. “Where am I? Hngh.” You rubbed your temples. Didn’t he have any pain medications?

“My name is William. William Killick,” the man introduced softly. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He went off into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. You drank it slowly, the cool liquid flowing through your body, wetting your mouth. “I didn’t know if you had family nearby, so I took you to my place.”

William paused, as if thinking of what to say next. “Get more rest, it’s night.”

You hadn’t even noticed the time, but one look out the window told you he was right. It was pitch black outside.

“You’ll wake up tomorrow, and have some breakfast.”

You shook your head, and handed the glass back to him, only for him to set it down on the nightstand table. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my . . . box?”

He stared at you blankly, before clearing his throat. “Your stuff is in the back. I didn't know what it was — hey, don’t move.” William’s strong hands kept you in place, pushing you back down to the bed as gently as he could whilst still keeping a firm grip. “Rest,” he ordered. “Don’t need you fainting on me again.”

You wanted to argue, but you couldn’t. You laid your head on the pillow, without a choice but to trust William, and fell asleep, wrapping yourself in the blanket with a content sigh. All the questions you had, all the thoughts, faded away and were replaced by darkness.

+++

You dreamt of yourself and yourself. You, the spectator, were standing outside a window, but it wasn’t just any window. It was your window, the one that led to the inside of your bedroom, where you could see you and William — the strange man — entangled in the sheets. Lovers. You two were lovers. You two were making love. 

Anyone would have felt creepy watching someone else, and anyone would have noticed someone watching them, but none of that happened. The sun should have cast a shadow on you, but it didn't. The passerby should have called you out, but they didn’t. 

You had just enough awareness to realize that this was a dream. How were you back at home already? Why were you and William kissing?

While originally you felt nothing, like a simple observer without thoughts, you were suddenly flooded with heavy emotions. Confusion, shame, lust, confusion.

But in just a few moments, the world around you crumbled, like an earthquake, and the sun and moon passed by, stars moving across the heavens, and you were warped by time, back in the same place you were before. 

+++

You woke up with a gasp, cold sweat running down your body, and immediately William was by your side. You rested your head on his chest, grasping onto his shirt desperately, not wanting him to leave. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.

“Sorry,” you muttered, making no effort to leave his side. “I don’t know . . .”

“Shh.”

You both were like this for a while. Faint images of your dream passed through your mind, and from what little you remembered, you assumed it had been a wet dream. 

I can’t believe it, you thought. Having a wet dream — about a guy I barely met. Control yourself!

You pulled away, already missing his warmth. William frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “What’s your name, darling?” he asked. 

You hesitated.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“[Y/n],” you finally told him. “Where are we?”

William narrowed his eyes. You had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, but you didn’t want to press.

“Wales,” William answered.

You froze. How the fuck did you get to Wales? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Um, that’s nice,” you said awkwardly. “How long has it been since you found me?”

“A few days.”

You tried not to panic, but all you could think about was your job and your friends and your family. Have you been reported missing yet?

“You must be hungry,” William said. “I’ll cook something for you. I’m not the best, but I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“It’s alright.” You waved his concern off, though it did tug at your heartstrings that he was worried. “I'll get some fast food.”

You dug through your pockets, hoping your wallet was still in there. Thankfully it was. You pulled it out and grabbed two crisp twenty-dollar bills, but William hissed and pushed it back in, his hand not leaving yours. 

“What are you doing carrying around that much money?” he asked, giving you an incredulous look. “How are you meant to protect yourself? Where’d you get that? Do you have a husband?”

You pushed his hand away. “I work. And what’s the problem?” 

You knew that the American dollar wasn’t equivalent to a British pound, but was the difference that bad? Sure, forty dollars was a lot of money if you were just going to a gas station or something, but nothing to get excited over. 

William huffed. “You can’t just show me that much money like that. What if I was a thief, hmm? What would you do then?”

“Are you?” you asked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal out of it.

“No. I’m a gentleman.”

You scoffed, amused, but there was a little smile on your face. “A gentleman?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “A proper man.”

There was a moment of silence between you both. You wanted him to hold you again, but you thought it would be best if you just went on your way. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, getting up from the bed. “And bandaging me and all.” You gave him one of the bills. “I know it’s in dollars, but I’m sure you can convert it.”

William didn’t take the money. “You’re not leaving — you’re still hurt. I’d be remiss if I let a lass half as pretty as you alone on the streets.”

You chalked up his way of talking to the region. You honestly found it quite attractive. That, coupled with his British accent, made you feel like you were in one of those romance movies. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t in love with you and that you were just acting irrational and horny.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll exchange numbers, do you have a charger?”

“What?”

“A phone charger. My phone’s probably dead.”

“The box?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, the rectangle. The phone.”

“Ah, the one that glows?”

You briefly wondered if he simply didn’t know what a phone was. You knew some people preferred not to have modern technology in their life.

“Yes. I need to call someone — ”

“ — It stopped glowing.”

Great. William obviously didn’t have a charger. And if he didn’t know what it was, no one nearby would. All that was next to do would be to walk to a big city and hope someone there could help you get back home.

“Look, darling.” You ignored the way your heart fluttered when he called you that. “I don’t know what a phone is, or why you’re here, but I know that you still need to recover.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But I really have to go. I have work and — ”

“ — Surely you can take a day off. What is it you do?” William asked. 

“I’m a software developer. I code.”

William had a blank face. A pink blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, “I, er, I’ve never heard of that. You mean computers? The big ones that take up a room?”

“No, it’s not the fifties.”

“Well, 1946 is close.”

You didn’t know what to make of that. “What does 1946 have to do with this?”

William observed you intently. “The year. The year is 1946.”

You blinked. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be the 20th century — that was impossible. So many things were wrong with that. How come it was you who traveled in time? Why didn’t the government know about this? Even if you were ignoring the question of how, there were still so many whys.  

“No,” you said slowly, inching away from William. What kind of sick prank was this? He was supposed to be helping you, not confusing you. “You’re messing with me.”

William sensed that you were uncomfortable, because he backed away, his hands in the air. You could tell he was waiting for the perfect moment to get closer.

“I’m not a liar . . . Are you from the future?”

Fuck. You weren’t sure. How could that even be possible?

“No,” you said hesitantly. “I dunno, I must be . . .”

Your eyes subtly peered past William and at the door. If only you could get past him . . . 

You looked straight at the window, making sure to grab his attention. “Oh,” you whispered, putting on your best shocked expression. The moment he was distracted you sprinted past him and bolted out of the room and out the house, running across the field to the next house you could see. Your arm still hurt, but you were willing to shove down the pain.

“No, no, please!” William shouted, running after you. 

In just a minute, he had caught up to you and tackled you to the ground. He pinned your hands above your head and sat on your lower stomach, rendering you useless. His lips were so close to yours, and the look on his face was pissed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice forceful, gripping onto your wrists tighter. 

“P-please,” you pathetically sputtered out. “Don’t hurt me.”

He didn’t budge. “I’m trying to help you — I’m not lying to you, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now,” you cried, squirming.

William’s eyes softened as he realized what he was doing. “You promise not to run again?”

You nodded, your lower lip wobbling. 

“Alright.”

He still didn’t let go of you, but he did pull you up from the ground, wiping the dirt off of your back. Tears flowed down your cheek like rainwater, and you couldn’t help but curl in on yourself.

William held onto your arm as he walked you back to the house, not allowing you another chance of escape, but he did wipe your tears gently and soothe you. You felt embarrassed. Why did you run? You had acted purely on instinct there. This man was clearly only trying to help. 

“Look,” he said softly, sitting you back down on the bed like a child. “I’ll take you into town, hmm? Show you around and all — maybe that’ll convince you. You must be quite far into the future to be dressing like that and to have a . . . phone with you, so things will be different, right? What year are you from?”

“. . . 2023.”

“I knew it. On your phone, there was a date. I wasn’t sure then, but . . .” William suddenly reached his hands up and rubbed his thumb across your chapped lips, catching you off guard. “They’re dry,” he said. “I’ll draw up a bath for you so you can bathe while I cook. I’ll get you some lotion afterward.”

You nodded. What else could you do?

+++

William had cooked some simple fish and chips while you cleaned yourself. You had to use a tin tub, which was insane to you, but you didn’t complain about it. He supplied you with clothing, an old-fashioned dress his mother had accidentally left here. You were grateful it was not from some ex-girlfriend or wife, even though you had no right to feel that way. You put aside your other clothes to wash later.

After finishing with that, you sat down at the dining table, and like the hungry girl you were, you gobbled the food down eagerly. It was so fresh and delicious, not at all like the food you had in the future, pumped with chemicals and artificially bred. You tried to be as neat as you could, but it was difficult when you were starving. William had watched on with amusement, telling you to slow down and straighten your back every once in a while.

He took the plates away when you both were done, and then did as he promised and gave you some lotion, but instead of letting you apply it, he took a bit of cream on his fingers and rubbed it on your lips. “Stay still,” he murmured. 

“I-I can do it—”

“No, you can’t. You’re still injured.”

You understood his reasoning. And you didn’t mind him touching you like that.

“The rest of my body is dry, too,” you blurted out.

What were you thinking? You didn’t even know this man. Trying to get him to touch the rest of your body — stupid girl.

William’s breathing hitched. “As in . . . your knees as well?”

“. . .”

He cleared his throat. “Well, then. Put them out, over my lap.”

You bit your lower lip, watching on as he rubbed his hands over your legs. His touch was so warm and it felt more like a massage. You felt bad about doing this, leading him on. If he was right about the time travel, then you couldn’t entertain any sort of relationship with him. It wouldn’t be fair. 

But it was just an act of service. It didn’t mean much, right?

“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, resting your head on the bed. You felt a bit off allowing a random man to do this to you, but he wasn’t random now, was he? He had saved you. And besides, he was he who insisted he rub the lotion in the first place.

“What is the future like?” William asked. “Is there another war?”

“Sort of. Not really,” you answered, which panicked William. “Don’t worry. If you’re talking about America and Russia, no one dies.”

William chuckled. “I should hope not. I don’t fancy serving in another world war.”

“You served?” you asked curiously. 

“Yes. As a captain in the British Army.”

You supposed it was normal. Most men in this time either signed up for the military or were drafted. You couldn’t imagine the horrors William must have gone through. You would never be able to understand the trauma he carried with him. You were curious, but you knew better than to ask. He didn’t need your pity, and you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“That it had to happen. War and all that.”

“Does war not happen in the future?”

Now you felt a little stupid.

“Well — yes. It does. I’m just sorry. We learned about the world wars in history — and I just — I’m not claiming to know anything. Yeah, sorry.” You looked down.

William didn’t say anything to that. He just kept rubbing your dry skin. Afterward, he put the lotion away and sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

“I expect stories from you. I want to hear everything about the future.” 

You still didn’t believe you were in the past, at least, not completely.

 “You can tell me as we pass through town,” he added.

“I need to wash my clothes first.”

Willian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to wear that anymore.”

“Why not?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s too revealing. A woman should never go out wearing those types of clothing.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s different in the future, but here, you’ll get hurt if you dress like that.” He continued playing with your hair. “I want you to be safe. So, you have to promise me that you’ll stay by my side at all times, yes?”

You nodded. You always thought that if you caught men talking to you like this, you would slap them, but here you were, turned on by William’s sexism. It was different, you reasoned. He was more focused on protecting you than restricting you. Was it bad that you found that hot?

“Good girl,” he said proudly. “Good girl.”

+++

Walking through town had been more of a frightening experience than you expected. You realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were indeed in the past. Producing a prank with this level of investment and money was pointless, and you never had any mental issues in the past, so why would one suddenly show up now? And even if it did, you couldn’t possibly be imagining this all in your head. 

All the cars were shiny and new, yet old models, ones that wouldn’t be produced in the future. All the women and men wore traditional clothing, like the dress William picked out for you. The hairstyles were medium-length and curled, or slicked back, with lots of gel and products used to keep them in place. You were grateful William didn’t ask you to do any of that. Not that you would have let him. At a certain point, you would have drawn a line.

“I have to get back,” you told William as you walked on a trail. “The machine has something to do with it. I just have to figure out how it works.”

“That’s an engineering job,” he pointed out.

“I’m good at math and science. I work in advanced technology, so I should be able to figure something out. All it needs is a bit of testing . . . I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while until I figure out a place to stay. I’ll give you all the money I have and I promise I’ll find a job — ”

“ — No need. Stay as long as you like. I don’t want your money. I won’t stop you from finding a job, but it’s not necessary. I can handle any expenses.”

You didn’t argue with him. He didn’t seem averse to the idea of letting a stranger stay at his place. It made sense. People in this time were more hospitable and open (at least, when they felt like it), and William, being a man from the forties, would never allow you to carry any of the financial burden.

You still felt a little bad. 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Now, what is it you want to hear about the future?”

William’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Do flying cars exist?”

You chuckled. “No. But we have self-driving ones.”

“Self-driving? How do they work?”

You paused. You had no idea. “I’m not sure. They probably have sensors to detect other cars. And, well, there’s a map. So it’s connected to a satellite . . .”

“Satellite?”

“It’s this thing in space. It does . . . stuff. It’s manmade.”

“Space? Have we discovered alien life?”

“No. But we have sent rovers to Mars and we’ve landed a person on the moon.”

William stopped walking. “The moon?” he repeated, bewildered. “Have you gone?”

I wish. “It’s only for astronauts. You have to be trained for that sort of stuff.”

“And when did this all happen?”

“Around the 1960s. There was a space race between America and Russia, and America won.”

Once you got the ball rolling, William would not stop asking questions. You answered them as best as you could and avoided topics like the current political climate and weaponry and all that. After he was done with all the serious stuff, like advancements in science and whether robots had taken over the world yet, he moved on to more social and cultural topics. You were relieved to find out that he wasn’t racist or homophobic or incredibly misogynistic. If anything he was rather tame about it all, and was glad that women had earned more rights, though he seemed upset that the dynamic of a gentlemanly husband and lady-like housewife wasn’t pushed upon society. 

“There’s nothing wrong with things going the opposite way around,” he had said. “Two people of the same gender marrying. It’s only that women need to be looked after, and if she doesn’t want to work, then it is her man’s obligation to do it for her. And in return, she must be obedient and serve him whenever he pleases — whether it’s by cleaning the house or . . . other things.”

“And what if she doesn’t want it?” you questioned, referring to the other things.

“A man should always make sure she likes it.”

You could practically feel all the feminism leaving your body at that.

The conversation ended when you reached back home (home? It’s not your home, you reminded yourself). William replaced your bandages with care. You were already starting to feel better, since the cut wasn’t too big, and you offered to help with cooking dinner this time.

After that, you decided to tinker with the box.

It was made out of some type of metal, with two different dials on the top and a button on the side. But it wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. The first dial went from zero to nine (zero being nulla) in Roman numerals, and had four hands, each of them colored in order: red, green, blue, and yellow. Respectively, there were four tiny colored knobs on the side, like the ones by a watch, where you could move each hand. The other dial was the same case.

“It must be the date,” you said aloud to yourself. “But which is which?”

Taking a gamble, you pressed the button, but it didn’t do anything. All it did was signal a small lens to start blinking red. 

“Are you sure you should do that now?” William asked, coming up from behind you. “Look at this.” He crouched to your level on the floor. “Your eyes have bags underneath them. You’re still tired.”

You rubbed the area beneath your eyes. Did they really have bags? You hadn’t realized.

“I should probably go to sleep then,” you said, putting the box down and getting up.

William walked you over to the bedroom, and was about to leave when you asked, “Where are you sleeping?”

“The couch.”

You frowned. “It’s your house and I’m your guest. You’ve already done so much for me – ”

“— If you’re going to suggest you sleep on the couch, then it’s a no. That’s final.”

“But — ”

“ — Final.”

You sighed. “Then come sleep with me. I’ll stay on the floor—”

“ — No—”

“ — Then we can share the bed. We’ll put a wall of pillows between us, like this.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed, separating the two sides. “Not so bad, see?”

William relented. “Alright.”

He crawled into bed with you. His hair fell over his face as he adjusted, and the last rays of sunlight coated his body in colors of orange and yellow. If your phone wasn’t dead, you would have asked him to sit still for a picture, because at this moment, he truly looked breathtaking. He was a beautiful man. You wondered if he knew it.

“What?” William asked when he noticed you staring.

Flustered, you turned your head to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing. I was just making sure you were comfy.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see William lick his lower lip. 

“You’re a sweet lass,” he commented. “You always think about others first.”

He reached over, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you (which, admittedly, despite having had a wet dream about him, scared you), but he only brushed a small speck of dust off your shoulders and murmured “Goodnight”, before burying his chin into the blanket and drifting off into sleep.

You followed in suit soon after. A part of you was hoping that you could start a life here. You’d buy a nice house and live out a simple and peaceful life. You and William didn’t even have to be romantically involved. You could just be friends, and you would be happy with that. 

But a part of you also hoped that when you woke up the next morning you would be back in your own bed, in your small one-story house that you remember being so excited about buying. You knew you would never like living here in the long term. There were too many things wrong with this time and you didn’t want to be the brunt of its issues. Not only that but being aware of all the tragedies that would soon occur . . . Did you want to be faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not you should stop them? How would your presence affect things in the future? After living your whole life in 2023, you could never adjust to life in 1946. 

You had to find a way back. There was simply no other choice. 

+++

William showed you many things. Just as he was interested in the future, you were interested in the past. The things that excited you most of all were old-school versions of what you had in the future. Washing machines, refrigerators — they were all so different, yet the same, and it was fascinating. 

You even met a few people in town. They were nice enough to hold a conversation with, though they found it weird that you lacked decorum and the social understanding of the time. The women were chatty and mildly passive-aggressive, and the men — well, the men flirted with you quite openly.

William had told people that you were family, someone related but not close enough to be bothered with technical terms like cousin or niece. No one asked questions when you two explained it like that. All the men must have thought that if you were his family and that if you had no ring on your finger you must be looking for a partner.

You were charmed by their advances, but never serious about them. Besides, William hardly let them get a word in before he shooed them away.

By the time weeks and weeks had passed you became acquainted with everyone, seen every sight to see — including the swan lake William took you to — and become close enough to William that he opened up to you. You learned that while he wasn’t an orphan, his parents never held much interest in him other than the occasional birthday letter, and the reason he came out here so far away from the city was to find peace of mind.

You grew to admire him, and you were sure he grew to admire you, too. And soon, you started to feel a certain type of way. A way that made you daydream about all the things that could be, only for reality to stomp across it and remind you of the harsh truth. 

+++

William was driving a car, a modern car, your car. He was humming a little tune on the radio, singing some lyrics, hands loosely holding the wheel as he passed by a gas station. It was some Taylor Swift song, and you remember faintly thinking: Of course, he likes Taylor Swift.

He looked over to you. You were sitting by his side, a passenger princess, looking out the window. All of a sudden it was night and you two were driving down a lonely road, parking by the side of some lake. In the distance, you could hear crickets and ribbits, but you paid them no mind.

You were curled up in William’s arms, looking out the sunroof of the car, the light of the moon gently descending through the glass. You offered him a piece of chocolate, and you two just sat there, in the dark, nibbling on snacks and observing the sky, until you woke up.  

+++

William had to leave for work, like usual. He again told you not to leave his property line or stray out too far, which, again, was fine by you because most days were cold and bitter.

You spent your time messing around with the box, careful not to touch the wires in the back. Once you put your mind to it, you figured out how it worked. You paid attention to where the hands were currently located and found something promising. The first dial’s hands had the numbers I, IX, IV, and VI, and the second dial was nulla, IX, nulla, and V. Alone, you wouldn’t have been able to tell what the numbers meant, but with context, you understood. The first dial was the year, and the second one was the month and date.

You didn’t quite understand how the box brought you from the future, but that didn’t matter, as it was broken. There was a little loose piece on the backside that had been damaged — a little dent, probably when you were first transported here. All you had to do was plug it back in, but the only problem was, you didn’t have a screwdriver, and you certainly weren’t going to wrench your fingers near a bunch of wires.

When William came back you told him your solution. He agreed and said that tomorrow he would take you to a local store to buy a screwdriver, and he even apologized for not having one in his house. But for now, he said he wanted to take you out to lunch.

“Lunch?” you questioned nervously. Was he asking you out on a date?

You thought about it for a moment. You did want to go, but your mind was too preoccupied with getting back to your time. Besides, it wasn’t fair to him. You did like him, but you two could never actually be together. It was all in your head.

It’s all in your head.

“You know I’ll have to go back someday,” you said, watching William’s expression become more neutral as if he was hiding his emotions. “I dunno . . . I’m getting a little attached to you,” you said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

William seemed to understand where you were going with this. “It won’t be like that. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said earnestly, taking a step forward. “We ought to enjoy our time together, while it’s still here.”

He made a valid point, enough to convince you. He had been doing that an awful lot. Convincing you. 

William took you out to a nice restaurant. The food was a bit plain, but it was good and wholesome. It reminded you a lot of William’s cooking, only fancier and more well-presented. Not only that, but the atmosphere felt calming and almost romantic. You noticed that most of the people here were couples, holding hands and giggling with each other, however young or old.

Was this William’s intention? Did he like like you? Or was this just him being courteous? You couldn’t imagine that many people here were used to dating or one-night stands. But you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, and you were too nervous to do that. Besides, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. William was a very traditional man, would he even want a woman like you? A 21st-century girl?

After you two were finished eating you engaged in another walk. 

“Come closer,” William said, holding out his arm for you to take. If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have jumped his bones right then and there. He was right. He was a gentleman. No man in the future would have done this for you unless they were trying to make a joke out of it.

You placed your hand on William’s arm hesitantly, trying to figure out the exact placement, walking side by side with him. It was a little cold, however, and you shivered, catching William’s attention almost instantly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” William cooed, talking of his coat and wrapping it around you. It smelled of him, a little musky, smoky like a cigarette, but in a very subtle way. “You’re so nervous. Have you never had a man do this for you?” he asked. “Hold out his arm for you to take, give you his coat?”

“No,” you admitted. “Men don’t do that in the future.”

“I do,” he said, stopping both of you in your tracks. The area was secluded, mostly covered in trees and bushes, far away from any passerby. “I would do that for my woman.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” you said, wistfully, “whoever she is she’ll be a lucky woman.”

+++

William took you to a local shop to buy a screwdriver next. It all felt very domestic, something that you could get used to. You imagined running errands like this with William in the future. He would be absolutely fascinated by a grocery store, by the internet, by everything. If you thought hard, you could see it — a wondrous smile on his face, a giggle escaping his lips. 

You tried not to think of it that much. After your fantasy passed your thoughts turned sad and cold, because you knew that would never happen. It will never happen. As much as you liked William, you missed your family, you missed your house, you missed everything.

When you both got back home, you plugged the broken piece in and screwed the nail. William watched on beside you, a frown on his face, drinking some tea.

“Here,” he said, inching closer, “I don’t want you exerting pressure on your arm. Let me do it.”

He grabbed a hold of the screwdriver, but he bumped into you in the process. With a gasp, he dropped his cup of tea. It shattered across the floor, glass pieces flying every, hot liquid (thankfully not boiling) splashing all over. You shrieked and backed away, watching as one of the glass shards cut right through one of the wires.

“William!” you snapped, but then your eyes turned watery, because of the cut on your hand.

He immediately went over to you, careful not to step on any glass, and picked you up bridal style, moving you away from the mess and towards the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, looking panicked. “It was an honest mistake — I’m so so sorry, I can’t believe I just did that — are you hurt?”

You laughed at the absurdity of it all, even though you were clutching your finger in pain. It was a very small cut, something that would be healed within a day. “Calm down, William. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, looking worried, or perhaps, scared was the right word. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why.

“William,” you said slowly. “It’s fine. You do realize we can just fix the wire? I just need a heat-shrinking tube and a soldering iron, nothing I haven’t done before.”

“. . . Oh.”

His tone made you wonder about his intentions. You’d been so caught up on how good of a person he was, helping you and giving you room and food, but really, what was his motive? Because it almost felt like he was trying to get you to stay . . . It sent a sinister feeling down your spine, albeit a tug on your heartstrings as well.

What do you want from me, William? What do you want?

+++

More time had passed. It was difficult to acquire things in this small town, and it occurred to you that such resources were not readily available at this time. You didn’t want to bother William by pestering him to go into the city for materials, so while you would bring up the topic every once in a while, you mostly kept quiet.

You took the chance to relish your break. After all, you weren’t working. It was like a fully paid vacation, so you might as well take advantage of it.

William still had a job, but when he came back, you two would just talk and talk and talk, conversations so smoothly flowing that it felt like you’d known him for years. When you weren’t talking, you were still in each other’s presence, doing your own thing. Occasionally, William would make sneaky moves like wrap his arm around your shoulder, or do the la bise. He claimed he was part French, and it was part of his custom, but even if that were true, you knew the la bise didn’t involve full-on smooches on the cheek.

You never stopped him from doing things like that, but you also never reciprocated, despite how badly you wanted to. All this stalling wouldn’t change the fact that you still had to leave. Not only that, but you were starting to feel homesick. 

You missed calling your friends late at night, you missed watching colored TV, and you missed hot showers. You missed easy-access painkillers for your periods, and searching all your queries on the internet. You missed the future. Badly. And you could just feel that the day of return was near.

+++

“You dance, yes?”

Snapped out of your thoughts, you turned to William. You were both lounging on his couch, relaxing, talking, as the time passed by. He had given you a magazine to read, but you weren’t reading it, just dozing off.

You shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gone to clubs. But — no, I can’t dance like that — William,” you whined, half-heartedly struggling as he pulled you up to you feet. “I’m going to ruin it, I don’t know where to place my feet or — ”

“ — You could never ruin anything, darling. Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me.” 

You looked away. “You can’t say things like that, William.”

“Why not?”

You took his hands off you before he could even start the music. 

“I don’t like it,” you lied.

William frowned. “That’s alright. Let me hold you. I know you enjoy that.” He chuckled. “When we first met you wouldn’t let go of me.”

The memory, still fresh in your mind, made you flustered. 

“. . . William, what do you want from me?” you decided to ask.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — what do you want from me?”

William licked his lower lip. “Nothing. I just want to take care of you.”

“But why?”

You could practically feel William’s nervousness. It was like when he dropped that glass. He radiated an almost jumbled energy, a desperate energy.

“Haven’t I made it more obvious?” he finally said, his hands on your waist. He brought his fingers up to brush the hair out of your face. “Am I not clear?”

You knew what he was going to say. But you wanted to hear it from him. “Clear about what?”

“I want you.” Your heart started beating. “I don’t care if you’re not from this time. I don’t care if you have a life in the future — I can be better. I can be your life.”

“. . . William.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes. “I know you want me too. I can see it.”

“But we can’t,” you weakly protested.

“So is this what you do?” His tone grew more sharp. “Imagine things in your head and never act on them?”

You stayed silent. He was putting you in such a difficult position, couldn’t he see that?

“What’s wrong?” he continued. “Am I not good enough?”

“William,” you tried to pull away. “I have to go — ”

He locked you in his arms. Your body was so close your noses were brushing up against each other, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe you’re worried I can’t please you right.”

You could have shouted. Why was he being so forceful? You ignored the way your body grew warm — you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t and so you wouldn’t. 

“I don’t want it,” you lied again.

“Well, I told you, a wife should always submit to her husband’s desires.”

“We’re not married!”

“We will be.”

You froze.

William took your silence as an opportunity. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, turning his head slightly as his hand rested on the back of your head. You were caught off guard but didn’t try to push away. It felt so nice, and warm and inviting. Why you were denying yourself this? Why were you denying yourself love?

When your lips parted, a string of saliva connecting you both, you placed your hands on his chest. You had an idea. A brilliant idea. Why hadn’t you thought of this before? “William. I still have to go, but — ”

He growled and lifted you up, carrying you over to his bedroom, tossing you onto the bed, and pinning you down on the mattress. “No. I won’t let you. I won’t let you! Don’t you understand? I’m perfect for you — I can — I can.” He looked miserable. In fact, he looked like he was about to cry. “Let me show you,” he said, determined. He started unbuckling his belt with one hand. “Let me show you what I can do.”

You hadn’t realized how hard William was, but when he finally took out his cock — fat and pale, with pre-cum leaking at the tip, his balls a little hairy, you gulped, the area between your legs getting wetter.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered. “And lift up that damn dress.”

You didn’t. To be honest, you were a little frightened by his behavior.

William sighed and did it for you, spreading your legs apart, only for you to shut them close. “You don’t even have a condom!”

“I’ll put out,” he said impatiently, forcing your legs apart again. You gasped, not expecting contact to be made so soon.

He rubbed his cock against your wet cunt, soaking himself. He had this satisfied smile on his face, eyes closed for just a moment, before he looked down at you. 

“I thought I’d have to warm you up a little,” he said. “You’re beau — stop it! Don’t struggle.”

He held your arms down as you writhed. “Please, William — I believe you,” you said. “You can fuck me good. Just listen — ”

William shook his head. “You’re the one who's supposed to listen. Listen and take it.”

With that, he pushed his cock in and started thrusting, hard and fast, your hands still pinned, his face contorted in pleasure. His moans were loud and shameless. He had his head right above yours, peppering small kisses on your lips. You tried to ignore how good it felt — him inside of you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult by the moment. 

“Ah, I knew you weren’t a virgin,” he said, noticing the lack of blood or discomfort. “That’s okay — I still love you.”

“Love?” you repeated, trying to focus, but your abilities were lost when he used his thumb to rub your clit. “Wa-a-it!”

“Don’t say that,” William said, his tone surprisingly soft given how rough his movements were. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you didn’t want it. Just enjoy. Enjoy me.”

The bed was starting to creak, moving back and forth, rubbing up against the wood floor. Your breasts were bouncing, catching William’s eyes every once in a while. His cock slid in and out of you with precision, hitting that swollen part inside of you every time. His thumb on your clit only added to the intense sensation. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stopped struggling. You let your head hit the pillow, mouth parted, breathing heavy and hot. At the same time, you were overcome with a feeling of hurt. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, but for him to take you so forcibly . . . and for you to actually like it . . .

“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing down his pace a little. He looked you in the eyes. “Do you feel good?”

You thought about lying, about crying out No, please stop!, but that wasn’t the truth, and in the end, your desires overcame you. “Y-yes. I want more.”

William relaxed, and his grip on you loosened. He placed one hand on your hip, the other by the side of your head. 

“You’re beautiful,” he praised. “Every day I look at you and think of how grateful I am that I found you. Laying there in that field, little flowers around you. An angel. My angel.”

You wanted to tell him how grateful you were, too. That it was him who took you in and not someone else, but the words never came out, only sighs and moans, but he seemed to understand what you were trying to say. 

Another kiss.

“You’re soaking me. You’re soaking the sheets.”

A little embarrassed, you turned your head. “M’sorry.”

William forced you to look back at him. “Don’t be sorry. I like knowing how eager you are for me.” 

Another kiss, but this time he slipped his tongue in, sweeping against yours before he pulled away, a string of saliva breaking as he did.

“We’ll live here,” he continued, his thrusts becoming more erratic, “in this house. Together. I’ll take you to the movies, we’ll have picnics in the garden, and I’ll write you love songs on the piano. We’ll have children — a girl, I hope — and she’ll look just like you. It’ll be wonderful,” he promised. “I’ll make you so happy, and you’ll make me happy, too.”

You couldn’t help but ruin the moment. “If I did that I would never see my parents again.”

He frowned and didn’t say anything. Then, “I think you’re getting agitated. You need to come, that’s it. You need to come and then you’ll finally understand what it is you’ll be missing out on if you leave.”

“T-that’s not the point — ”

“ — I’m so close,” he murmured. “Fill you up, so damn tight. Ah, you’re perfect.”

When you realized what he meant your eyes widened and you shook your head adamantly. “You said you’d pull out!”

“That was before. I’ve changed my mind.”

You felt familiar pressure build up inside of you. You could imagine yourself, breasts big with milk, belly round and smooth, William reading children’s books to your unborn baby as if he could be heard. The thought alone made you sickly sweet, the idea that life between you and him could be so domestic.

But couldn’t he just wait for a moment?

“I’ll — ah — be with you — every step of the way,” he grunted. “I won’t leave you. So, don’t be scared.”

“William,” you said shakily. “Just listen — ”

But it was too late. Collapsing on top of you, William poured his hot seed inside your cunt, his whimper addicting, like it was something you could hear a thousand times over. A few seconds later, you fell victim to the same fate, and there you two lay, with each other, chests heaving, bodies sweaty and sticky, coming down from the heights of ecstasy. 

You could feel his heart pound against yours. Thump, thump, thump. And you could feel yours as well. To think that this man had just gotten you pregnant. It all happened so quickly. It happened so quickly and you were completely fine with it.

“William,” you said after finally catching your breath, turning to face him. “You know I still have to go.”

It was his turn to cry. His tears watered up, glassy, his lower lip trembling, but you could tell he was doing his best to keep it in. “But I love you,” he whispered. “Am I not enough?”

It broke your heart to see him like this. So vulnerable in front of you. It was then you knew you were making the right choice, a hundred percent. You had finally found your match. And to think that you almost let him go . . . 

“But I want you to come with me,” you said, hopeful. “Come with me, William. Come with me to the future.”

Taglist: @henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @mrkdvidal1989 @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk

[abbysdolly]

୨ ℛ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℐ𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡 ୧

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Abigail, the best soldier in w.l.f has an encounter with a Seraphite girl, her enemy. She could attack, but she didn't, why? She didn't knew but soon after everything made sense, suddenly she was Romeo.

˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mature content +18, MDNI, canon violence, mentions of blood, use of a knife as a weapon, reader is referred to "the girl", reader is a Scar, death of a canon character (not Abby), enemies to lovers kinda? Let me know if I should add another thing! ౨ৎ

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫´𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hiii! ♡ this is the longest fic I ever wrote hehe, hope you all like this little twist I made in the story! I wrote this after a big writers block so forgive me if it's not the best! Also it isn't proofread so there could be some errors because English is not my first language >.< If you like it please like, reblog and comment! xoxo ♡

"𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝛪 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝛪 𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝒉𝑒𝑟, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒. 𝑊𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝒉 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝒉𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦..."

⊹   ᳝ ࣪ ♡ ࣪   ᳝ ⊹

Her voice echoed like the sweet melody of an early bird, her eyes pleaded for help or simply just for mercy.

A now forgotten white cotton blouse viciously adorned with crimson droplets of who knows how many people, thankfully all that blood wasn't hers.

It was almost mystical how the blonde found her; soft-looking face full of dirt, hair in a beautiful mess and tears falling like cascades from her mysterious eyes, sitting in the grass with wildflowers surrounding her. Similar to the numerous injured deers she rescued with her father, a misty memory she treasured jealousy.

"Please, help me" the injured girl begged. Looking into the blonde's eyes in a desperate attempt of human empathy, innocently hoping to find some relief in another human.

The blonde inspected the injured girl, cold blue eyes searching for any sign of lies and also weapons but there was none of that, the girl's sweet voice sounded with undeniable need and her trembling hands holding her twisted ankle showed clearly that she hadn't any weapons near her.

"Are you a Scar? Why are you here if your people are miles away?" The blonde girl barked. Adrenaline still rushed through her veins, her years of training showed in the way her strong hands holded her rifle against her front, always ready to attack.

"Seraphite. And yes I am... Was, I ran away. I can't be with them anymore." The injured girl shivered as she explained to the blonde. Tears washing the dirt off of her cheeks and neck, making the blonde stare for a little too long.

"I'm not bit or armed, I just need help with my ankle. I ran almost all day and I accidentally twisted it a few hours ago. I can't stand on foot and I need to go somewhere safer" the injured girl spoke again. Her eyes drifted to the blonde's arms, to her rifle and to her piercing eyes. She wondered if her prayers were answered, and if they did she was certainly seeing her savior angel in front of her, with long golden hair and deep blue eyes like the sky at night, full of mystery.

The blonde stared and stared, her exterior looked angry and tough but in her mind she was having a whole battle. The thought of helping that girl was fighting with her "duty" that was imposed by a man who wanted just to massacre and murder people for a territory that in reality wasn't of someone in the first place.

"Please, soldier" the injured girl begged again. The blonde girl blinked as soon as she heard that soft voice again, her thoughts temporarily subsided by those teary eyes staring at her.

The blonde didn't respond, instead she just put her rifle on her shoulder and kneeled gently next to the injured girl. This was so new to her, she was the best and most deadly soldier in the QZ, she never showed mercy before. Why did she suddenly have the need to help someone? Especially one of the people she considerate the lowest of all. The blonde didn't knew but a small part of her felt powerful for doing that, she felt capable of doing more than chaos and death.

The blonde girl took a few bandages of her washed out green backpack and began to roll the thin white material around the ankle of the injured girl. She did it as gently as possible, it was almost sweet due to her big and tough appearance.

"What's your name?" The injured girl asked in a gentle whisper. She watched how carefully the blonde was and also how the blonde's features were hardened but strangely sweet and angelic, a beautiful mixture of deadly beauty and danger.

The blonde stopped her actions, surprised by the sudden curiosity of the mysterious girl. She turned her attention now to those beautiful doe eyes that magically weren't pooled with tears anymore.

"Abby" the blonde whispered back, soft and warm voice filled the cold air. She watched intently how her eyes told her many things.

"Thank you, Abby" A gentle smile appeared on the other girl's slightly chapped lips. The blonde's face mimiqued the action with a slight blush on her nose and cheeks, accentuating her freckles. Abby felt so lost, she felt that she hadn't control of her body. Those strange feelings were more than new to the blonde, she felt so different like she wasn't her anymore.

The moment went as fast as it came, in the form of hurried whistles and crushing leaves. The remaint group of Scars in that place were persistent, and they searched for the girl who was a traitor, an apostate.

"Fuck, we need to get out of this place, we're too exposed" Abby whispered hurriedly, taking her backpack and weapons with rush. She looked down at the girl on the floor, poorly trying to stand up but it was no case. Her muscles were too sore to even try to stand up.

"We can go there, that way there are some hidden cabins that the elder used as ceremony places, they're abandoned we can hide there" the mysterious girl explained. Abby wanted to think this was a lie, that it could be some sort of ambush but the other part of her brain said that she needed to believe her again.

Without a warning, the blonde lifted the girl from the ground so easily. The mysterious girl gasped at the sudden action but didn't complain, she just limited herself to cross her arms behind the blonde's broad shoulders. The air filled with tension and a certain awkwardness from both parts. Surely Abby had helped some other soldiers in patrols, even helped them to get rid of their clothes to treat their wounds but this time she didn't feel the same, she suddenly was hyper aware of her moves and how skin collided with skin.

୨ 🔨 ୧

After what it felt like an eternity, Abby and the other girl were now inside one of those ceremony cabins. Thanks to Abby the windows and door were barricaded with different wooden furniture. The abandonment evident in the rotten flowers near some sort of paint of a woman with a divine halo; The Prophet.

"They haven't come here since I can remember, it's too far from our campsite so they won't find us here" the mysterious girl explained. Her figure resting on a chair near a table as Abby stood in front of her, backpack and guns still on as she crossed her muscled arms.

Abby wasn't really proud of this situation, she always accomplished her missions, she did what she was told and not more. She got used to it after almost seven years of doing the same routine. At least that kept all those negative thoughts and anxiety on border.

The blonde's eyes didn't leaved the girl at any moment, her soldier brain told her to kill her, to get back at base and recover that sense of had "cleaned" everything, but the truth was that she felt curious about the girl, she wanted to know why she suddenly deserted. There was something about that girl that caught Abby's attention bladly.

"Why did you leave your people?" Abby asked. Her voice was husky enough to cause the other girl to squirm nervously in the chair.

"I was one of the many people taking care of the elders and children. I knew our people prepared soldiers but they only said it was just to defend our people from the Demons, until I found a letter saying we were in a war with some group of people and we needed to kill them all... even children and women, innocent people. So I ran away just in time when those people arrived to the Island" the mysterious girl explained. Her face and especially her eyes showed a deep sadness and a deeper disgust.

The explanation caught Abby out of guard, how could a Scar not know the actual state of the growing tension between Wolves and Scars? How could someone be so stupid to not know? Certainly this was a situation that Abby didn't knew how to deal with.

"I thought all your people wanted to kill everyone who weren't into your fucking religious stuff" Abby scoffed. Half smile and voice tone sarcastic as ever, the comment came almost without thinking and as the girl's eyes grew watery again she knew she fucked up, her and her sarcastic humor always finding the worst timing to appear.

"We aren't like that, at least not all of us. They just twisted her texts, If she were here all those conflicts would have disappeared" the Scar girl whispered. Her gaze relied on the worn out mural painted into the wooden wall. The image of that woman smiling so sweetly and showing both her hands made Abby want to puke, she was tired of that same image and those same stupid prayers everybody recited after their last breath.

The blonde remain in silence, opting to just sit on another chair near the window to search for any sign of Scars, Infected or Wolves. She couldn't get involved with a Scar, no, because surely Isaac would kill her before hearing a reasonable explanation.

୨ 🔨 ୧

The gloomy and freezing night came and with it, a sharp muscle pai too. Abby was beyond tired, she left the base a week ago and since then she had no real breaks, just occasional naps in abandoned buildings with her patrol group. Speaking of them, they surely were searching for her and wondering how the hell she went through "another path" in the woods.

Abby layed on the floor, unfolding a small sleeping bag out of her backpack, ready to have some sleep and hopefully forget about the pain in her back and legs.

The mysterious girl did the same, laying on the floor with nothing to keep her warm. She was squirming on the floor, trying to hug herself to feel her own body heat. Abby and the girl haven't spoken since that conversation they had a few hours ago but Abby couldn't help looking at the girl and feel pity.

"Here... Use it to keep you warm" Abby spoke as she handed her black jacket to the girl.

The girl took it with caution at first but then she just didn't care anymore, she was freezing and she needed it. She put on the jacket, this last one almost swallowing her whole frame but at least she was getting warmer.

A Scar wearing a Wolf jacket, really ironic.

"Thank you, Abby. I'll give it back to you in the morning" the girl answered as she got back down to her previous position, ready to sleep and hopefully find some peace in the events she had been through these past hours.

୨ 🔨 ୧

The night passed by as fast as a shooting star, the distant chirp of birds and warm bits of sunlight were a gentle call to wake up.

The Seraphite's eyes opened slowly, a soft groan escaped through her lips. The aftermath of all that happened yesterday in the presence of sore muscles and low energy.

She sat up, the blonde's jacket hugging her body and dipping her in a spiral of scents; Pine, dirt and a slight touch of gunpowder. Speaking of the owner, she wasn't there, no sight of her belongings, no sight of her, just that forgotten item and the bandages resting on the girl's ankle.

Anxiety built deep inside the girl's chest, she was facing the consequences of her previous acts, she was alone. A part of her mind scolded herself for thinking that Wolf would've stayed with her, for thinking with so much innocence.

Her ankle was a lot better than the day before but she wasn't sure of what to do, she survived and that was beyond her expectations. Her hands shook as they clinged to the jacket, she watched out the window but there was nothing to see, she was gone.

୨ 🔨 ୧

Those eyes, those beautiful eyes. So deep almost she could see her reflection in them, so crystal clear. Two little windows to the shiny galaxies, reflecting in a deep beauty even the most lethal human being, Abigail.

And oh her voice as sweet as a juicy peach in summer season, sweeter than the purest maple syrup in the whole world, calming like the morning breeze. Maybe all of that caused Abby to feel guilt of leaving the girl there, or maybe all of that caused something deeper and complex inside her that Abby wasn't able to understand.

"What the fuck am I doing? Shit, Abby" the blonde muttered to herself as she walked to the cabin. The outside looked the same after four days, Abby knew the girl could not be there but she tried to console herself repeating that 'there was a chance'.

"Please be there, Please be there" again, the blonde muttered. She gently knocked the door, there was a tense silence and then the door opened slowly. It was her, the girl, she had a wooden stick in her hands, something to defend herself.

"Abby?" the girl whispered. She lowered the stick and kept looking at the blonde, her wide eyes full of hope. A new found spark in them.

"Hi" the blonde smiled sincerely and continued "Are you alright? I thought you wouldn't be here, staying here is too risky" Abby's voice was shaky, she felt like a sick dog wanting to jump to the girl's bones and drag her out of that rotten cabin.

"I was going to but I was too scared to leave the cabin by myself" the girl explained as she opened the door fully. "Why are you here, Abby?" she continued, resting the stick on the table. And there was Abby's jacket, doing the same thing it did four days ago, keeping the girl warm.

"I'm giving you a chance. You'll go with me" Abby answered. Her voice was firm, she wasn't asking, she was commanding.

"What? Where? Abby, if your people see me they're gonna kill me with no hesitation!" The girl's voice was filled with desperation and fear. A Scar in a Wolf territory? Unthinkable!

"I know, I know but listen to me. I know a place, you could be safe there. I just– I can't let you here all by yourself" Abby spoke. Her jaw clenched tight, searching for the best way to say it, looking into the other girl's eyes wanting to communicate just by it.

"Why?" the girl answered. Abby blinked as soon as she heard it. Why? Why was she doing all of this?

Abby couldn't speak or think straight, her eyes searched for an answer in the worn out image of The Prophet, in the rotten flowers, in her jacket resting in the table, in the eyes of that girl.

"Because– I don't know, to lighten the load I guess. I want to do something right for the first time in ages" the blonde confessed. Her mind was still in a constant dilemma but she was sure at least that she wanted to do something different, to take a different path just like she did when she found the girl.

The girl didn't respond but her eyes never left Abby's. The blonde could feel how her eyes could read her entirely, she swore those pretty eyes could disarm her in mere seconds. Oh those eyes.

୨ 🔨 ୧

"Stay behind me, be careful and watch for any sign of infected or people. You know how to fight?" The blonde whispered. Both of them were outside the cabin.

"Just the basics I think, but don't worry about me I'll help you if we cross with Demons" the girl whispered back. Her body was framed with Abby's jacket, shaky hands holding the wooden stick and doe eyes looking at Abby. She was clearly scared and Abby knew it.

୨ 🔨 ୧

The golden light was already gone, the sound of leaves crushing with every step grew louder as the night approached. The minimum noise made Abby hold her gun tighter and point to the place where the sound came from, she was more focused than she normally was, she felt fear for the first time in so long.

Everything was quiet, oddly quiet. It had passed at least two hours and according to Abby they were really close to 'that place' she kept talking about during the walk. Everything was quiet, oddly quiet, until it wasn't.

"We are just a few minutes away from it, We can– shit! Get down!" Abby whispered hurriedly. She and the girl used an abandoned car as cover, a group of Scars were patrolling near an area full of containers.

"Fuck, we have to pass through them, it's the only way" Abby spoke again. Her gun ready, taking glances at the group of Scars from time to time "Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're going to sneak and kill those two guys on the left and there we can cover with those containers, as for the rest leave them to me, got it?" There was that commanding Abby again, and it was fascinating to the other girl.

The girl nodded, too focused on the whole change in the blonde's demeanor. Her voice deep and firm, her eyes darker and her features getting even more sharped if that was actually possible.

Abby sneaked behind some other cars getting nearer to that area, followed closely by the girl. The tension and fear were palpable, sweaty palms holding to dear life to a gun and to a wooden stick.

The blonde nodded to the girl and in a blink she got one of the men from behind, her bicep making pressure into the man's neck and in seconds he was gone, as if his neck was a mere toothpick, so easily.

The girl watched it all, she saw how Abby ended a life like a cold war machine. How Abby killed one of "her people" and she was going to do the same, she had to do the same.

Abby did all automatically, it was the same to her. Infected or not infected, she couldn't care less but the Seraphite girl wasn't like that.

"Use this to kill that guy, I'll kill the other ones. We got this" Abby whispered. Her big hand wrapped the girl's, giving her a knife she had found somewhere and as she did this her grip was tighter, encouraging the poor and terrified girl to kill.

Everything happened so fast, Abby was gone dealing with other Scars as the girl got closer to the man, her hands shook and tears threatened to come out. Then everything went downhill.

The girl tried to grab the man from behind just like Abby but it was obviously impossible to recreate what the blonde did. The girl sneaked her arms on the man's neck trying to stab him but the man threw her away as soon as he felt her, whistling hurriedly and walking to the girl, ready to attack her.

The sudden shock of what happened made the girl act by pure instinct, she crawled to reach the knife and when she did nothing was going to be the same. The man turned her around violently and as soon as he did the girl stabbed him in the neck.

She choked a moan of disgust and fear, blood dripping from her face as well as tears. The eyes of the man lost their shine, losing the life on them as well as his body. The girl froze instantly at the realization of what happened, of what she did, she swore she wouldn't be like those who called her family before, she swore she was going to be better than them and there she was, she took a life.

As soon as Abby noticed and heard the whistles she ran, searching for the girl. She found her there on the floor with a dead Scar on top of her.

"Hey, hey– Are you okay? Fuck" the blonde breathed as she throw the dead body to the side and helped the girl to be on her feet again.

Panic, fear and disgust filled the girl's eyes, she kept crying as Abby spoke again "Hey, look at me, look at me. We need to move now, we're close" Abby's hands tried to wipe the blood out of the girl's face, guilt covering her heart once again. She knew that wasn't easy at first.

୨ 🔨 ୧

"What are you thinking? You seem a bit off since this morning" the blonde asked. The book she was reading was now closed on the table.

"Oh sorry, I just– I was thinking of when we met and all the crazy things that happened after" the girl answered. A small smile appeared on her plush lips.

The time passed faster than the girls intended. After arriving at the aquarium the bond between Abby and the Scar girl grew and grew.

Abby explained to her how that place was discovered a long time ago from one of her good friends named Owen, who soon after she awkwardly confessed that he was her romantic interest when she was younger, but after his mysterious death she had claimed the aquarium as her personal place to recover when everything was too much. The blonde also showed some pictures of her other friends, from the W.L.F too. Abby and her soon found calm in each other, a friendship blossomed from all the disgrace, death and sadness.

But nothing was that easy. The Wolves were searching for Abby as soon as the rumors ran across the FOB halls, everyone talked about how Abby betrayed them just for a Scar. Abby had to constantly go out the aquarium and kill whatever thing threatened to disturb both her and the girl, it didnn't matter if they were infected or people from both groups, Scars and Wolves. It was a miracle that the only few people that knew about the aquarium wouldn't say anything because Abby was their friend.

“Yeah,” the blonde chuckled. “Everything happened so fast. When was that? Like five months ago?” She looked at the girl and smiled. That was something she did more, smile.

“Yeah, but in those few months I've learned more than all my years in this world” the girl answered between giggles. And she was true, Abby had taught her a few self-defense things, she taught her how to use a gun and how to fight if she needed to and the girl was beyond thankful for everything.

“Well, you've learned from the best fucking soldier in Seattle” the blonde answered back. A cocky smile appeared on her face as she crossed her arms and groaned when her back touched the old couch.

“Whatever you say, Anderson!” The girl rolled her eyes at the usual antics of the blonde. She walked close to Abby, sitting on the other side of the couch, “You're such a goober” the girl whispered, looking at the blonde with a deep admiration, and other things. A warm smile on her lips.

“Hey! That's my word!” Abby gasped fakely. Another gorgeous smile appeared on her lips. She turned to the side to see the girl properly, the side of her face resting on her strong bicep just as the girl did.

Both admired each other's features, silently bathing in each other's presence. Abby and the girl developed the habit of talking with their eyes, a short look and they already knew it all.

Abby knew that this “friendship” was more than that, she felt it. After a couple of weeks after being with the girl in the aquarium she knew that the feeling in her chest wasn't just a platonic feeling, it was beyond that. Especially at night when the awful memories came back in the form of chaotic nightmares, for both of them, but the warm embraces melted every nightmare and fear.

Abby caught herself thinking about the girl when she read a classic novel or sometimes she stared too much at the girl when she was brushing her hair or was cooking. Oh and it was even more evident when a blushed Abby directed the girl's body when they were training, it was all the time and she knew the girl felt the same way she did, her flushed cheeks and shy smiles when Abby praised her for doing something correctly, or when she wrapped her arms around the blonde's torso at night.

“Thank you, Abby” the girl whispered. Her hand reached Abby's, softly running circles on her palm and there was again that soft blush on the girl's cheeks, the exact same way when Abby found her.

“Why are you thanking me?” the blonde answered. Her brows furrowed with confusion.

“For everything you gave me and you still do. And because you didn't kill me that day” the voice of the girl broke like thin glass. Abby felt a lump in her throat, glossy eyes and mouth agape at the girl’s words.

“I– You don't need to thank me. I do this because I l– because I care for you!” The blonde stuttered with her own words. Her heart beated wildly inside her strong chest, she wanted to say more but she simply couldn't.

Abby wanted to scream all her feelings, to name whatever she was feeling. But for a reason it was so hard, even when she had that teenage romance with Owen she didn't feel like this, not even a little.

Sometimes at night Abby had to wake up and go to her little bookshelf to read something to distract her mind, she even roamed the aquarium wanting to do dumb things and distract herself from the pretty image of the girl sleeping so peacefully next to her. “Damn it Abby, why did you bring the brilliant idea of asking her to sleep on the same bed?” The blonde thought, every night.

“I know, Abigail,” the girl whispered back. The hand that was touching Abby's was now gently stroking Abby's cheek. Her soft skin kissing the blonde's face, her fleckles deep and a mauve color adorning her nose and cheeks. The way the girl said “Abigail” felt so intimate, just her father called her like that and that was at least ten years ago.

The girl didn't allow Abby to react or respond, she got off the couch and smiled. The girl walked to the little room they designated to cook.

୨ 🔨 ୧

Dinner went normal, and for normal we could say just Abby being a little awkward as the girl talked about different recipe books she had found.

“Can I show you something? I know you like when I read out loud and uhm– I remembered that I wanted to read you something” the blonde spoke. She and the girl were cleaning the dinner dishes.

“Oh I would love that, Abby. Please show me” the girl answered. Her voice filled with curiosity as her eyes lit up. Abby loved seeing her like that.

“Okay, leave this for tomorrow yeah? This is important” Abby's voice showed her nervousness and all the emotions she tried to swallow deep deep down. She took the hand of the girl and dragged her to the room they had to sleep, the girl laughed softly and almost ran in contrast to the long and fast steps Abby gave.

“Abby, you're going to make me fall!” the girl said between giggles “what's something so important that you are practically making me run?” the girl spoke again. A foolish smile appeared on her face.

“Just sit here and listen to it, please. It's important to me” the blonde answered back. Her voice and stern face made the girl's smile drop in a look of concern.

Abby's hands pushed the girl's shoulders down to make her sit on the neat bed, then she took a small storage box where she kept her favorite books, classics novels that belonged to her father and she could keep them thanks to Mel, one of her friends.

“I've read this book a couple of times. I always thought it was too dramatic or corny compared to how I saw life years ago. But now it makes sense, and it feels so amazingly strange, you know?” the blonde explained. A copy of Romeo & Juliet was in between her hands as she sat on a chair in front of the girl.

The girl didn't understood too much at the beginning, surely Abby was acting a little bit strange and that made her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

And as for Abby, she was so nervous and tried to stay focused on what her heart, mind and body wanted to say.

“So the other day reading it again I felt something warm on my chest, I felt like something clicked in my head. And I needed to tell you before it's too late, listen carefully please” the blonde finally looked at the girl. The dim light of the room made the situation more intimate, as if it was just them in the whole world.

“I will, Abby,” the girl answered. Her voice as sweet as ever.

The blonde smiled with shyness but opened the book in the page she had put a paper on to remember it. And then she proceeded to read out loud, soft and velvety voice adorned the background with a sweet melody of words.

“But soft, what light through the yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that you, her maid, are far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off” the blonde read it with emotion filling her chest, her voice was sweet as her gloomy blue eyes danced across the letters, her grip tight and her cheeks warm and pink.

The girl listened to Abby, focused and instantly warped around her as Abby's voice seemed to put the girl in a trance, Abby's words echoed on the girl's brain and heart.

“It is my lady. Oh it is my love. Oh, that she knew she were, she speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it” she paused. Looking up to the girl to see if she felt that feeling coming up from her stomach to her chest and to finally her throat. And she smiled again when she saw how the girl's eyes glowed like the pretty moonlight, like the chaotic fire. And Abby knew the girl felt the same as her.

“I am too bold. ‘Tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, there in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the air region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were day and not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand, oh that I were the glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek…” Abby read. Her cheeks got even more reddish and her gaze positioned on the girl's form, again. Nervousness eating her from the inside.

“Oh Abby,” the girl whispered. She got up from the bed and gave short little steps to be right in front of Abby, closer than before. The delicate hand of the girl took Abby's making her look up from her position in the chair, admiring the delicate and serenity in the girl's face, her dark eyes were capable of making the burning fire in the blonde's heart burn wildly.

The Seraphite girl smiled, oh that sweet smile that Abby adored a lot, and as she did so her arms instantly wrapped Abby in a tight embrace. The blonde's face rested in the girl's chest hearing the melody inside it, her fears no longer important, her feelings clearer, her heart raced with happiness and everything because of her. Her own Juliet.

“It makes sense now because I feel like Romeo, I understand him! I envy the sunlight that caresses your skin, I envy the moonlight who can make your eyes shine like stars, I–” the blonde paused her rambling. She stood up, taking in between her large hands the girl's face, and continued, “I love you” she whispered. Her face inches apart from the girl's, baby hairs framed her beautiful face as her nose gently caressed the girl's.

“I know, Abby. I always knew it because I feel just the same, you were my savior angel, and I will always be thankful for that. I love you, I love you, I love you” the girl confessed. Her own hands caressing Abby's face, bathing in the deep ocean in the blonde's eyes, her dump kissing little scars on the blonde's cheek, scars of long forgotten fights, of forgotten sadness.

Abby leaned to kiss the girl. The most precious and sweet of the kisses, lips exploring the other ones with such passion and love. A first kiss that told more than all the romantic novels in Abby's bookshelf, calm after the storm, igniting fire building on their bodies.

Thank you for reading! Any like, reblog or comment are really appreciated, have a good day/night and don´t forget to drink water! love ya! ♡

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Landlord’s Property

Male Alpha Landlord x Female Omega Reader (CW: Non-con, overstimulation, oral sex, vaginal sex, female reader, crying, reader tied up, a/b/o dynamics, fingering, praise, general yandere behavior, scenting, musk, pheromones, chloroformed reader, panty stealing, biting, claiming) Word Count: 7.2k (This may be the longest fic I have ever written, certainly up there, I hope everyone enjoys it, it was a commission from @dusty-void) 

You stared blankly at the computer screen, your face illuminated by the harsh white glow of your writing program, completely empty, in front of you. Though you had been trying for hours you could simply not will your brain into action and get any words typed out, now that it was past 3am in the morning you let out a defeated sigh as it had become painfully clear that simply no work was going to get done tonight. You were a freelance writer. You worked from home completing various assignments from content mills, websites, and even dabbled in short stories. The pay was not particularly glamorous, but you had managed to find a very cheap duplex to rent, and it helped that your landlord was very lenient and did not seem to mind that your rent payments were frequently just a bit late. Though you were still always worried about what would happen if he suddenly decided he had had enough. You turned off your computer and settled into your unkempt nest, hoping in vain that you could put your worries aside and be able to sleep peacefully for once. When you woke up from your fitful sleep you realized that you had actually managed to wake up later than you had intended. Feeling almost as if you had not slept at all you forced yourself up from bed and threw on some low effort clothing, you were just going to be alone and in the house all day so you figured it did not really matter what you wore. After getting dressed you trudged your way into the kitchen, starting your late morning off right with your breakfast of choice, pop-tarts. You quickly ate your sugar packed meal before making some coffee and dragging yourself to your work desk and booting up your computer. Your penchant for quick, convenient, sugary meals was probably what had lead you to be as chubby as you were, but you pushed that uncomfortable thought aside for now. You heard your fire alarm go off in its unmistakable shrill tone, once again letting you know that its battery was low as it had been periodically for the past two days. You made another mental note to order some batteries or something and get it fixed. Before getting to work you text your several online friends, you did not go out too much, but you very successfully maintained many good online friendships. After a sending a few hellos and making a plan or two to play a game sometime later this week with some buddies you opened up your writing programs and after a few minute of once again staring blankly at the blinking cursor your brain finally whirred into action and you actually started to make some solid progress. Just when you started to really hit your stride your doorbell rang. The first time you ignored it but after a couple rings you grumbled and figured you would just have to answer it. You grumbled and got up, just knowing this would throw off the roll you were on. You answered the door and saw your alpha landlord Nathan smiling and looking down at you. You were immediately worried you had done something wrong but before you could say a word he spoke. “Heya, I just happened to hear your fire alarm beeping since the wall it is on is adjacent to mine, and I figured maybe you needed some batteries and help reaching it, since omegas tend to be a bit short.” There was nothing angry or even annoyed in his tone, there never really seemed to be, he was his normal amicable self just genuinely offering to help. His green eyes bright and a friendly smile on his face. Even his vibrant orange hair seemed happy. You felt bad though because you were sure you must have annoyed him with how inconsiderate you had been, you had not even thought of him being able to hear the alarm. He was probably just concealing his displeasure. “O-oh, um, thanks that’s too kind of you, I am so sorry for not getting to it sooner,” you stammered while averting your gaze. “Hey, it’s no problem at all.” He went into your kitchen and noticed all the boxes of junk food as well as the wrappers that were in the garbage can which was close to where he had to stand to change the batteries. It was not that he was trying to be nosy or judgmental, but it made him a bit sad that you had no one taking care of you properly. You were a cute omega and probably couldn’t afford good food or did not have the time to prepare it with how busy you were with writing. And you must have been very busy, he could tell by the dark eyes and by the scent of your stressed out pheromones that you probably were not getting an adequate amount of sleep. It tugged at his heart, you were trying so hard, you clearly put yourself through a lot and had trouble with sleeping, eating habits, and getting the rent in on time. It was becoming more and more clear to him that what you really needed was an alpha helping you out and maybe being your mate and taking better care of you than you were capable of taking care of yourself. “Okay, all done, but if you need anything else please don’t hesitate to ask me okay?” He left your home and went back to his, telling himself that he would do a lot more to check up on you in case you were too scared or nervous to ask for help. You heard his words and mumbled out an affirmation that you would definitely ask if you needed something, but you knew that wasn’t true, you tended to just ignore most little problems and inconveniences until they either went away completely by themselves or until they could no longer be ignored. There were light bulbs that needed changing, your AC unit needed to be looked at, and you could probably be a bit tidier, for example. All things you needed to do yourself but were just too depressed and anxious to actually do. You were lucky Nathan did all the outside work, diligently cleaning the gutters, power washing the building, raking the leaves, and mowing the lawn even on your side of the building. And he was always in a nice tank top showing off his powerful body, but that surely wasn’t for your benefit, you thought. He was an alpha after all, and they always enjoyed exposing their muscles whenever given the chance. Of course he really was doing it to attract your gaze, though it never seemed to work. No matter how many times he made advances or hinted that he wanted to be friends you seemed to be completely uninterested. You didn’t check him out when he was doing physical outdoor labor, you did not pay attention when he was working in your unit, and you did not even seem to notice his scent, which was always powerful after working up a sweat for you. He even often worked out before coming over just to make his pheromones really strong. His mind could not entertain the thought that you might be uninterested though, not after all he did for you. You probably just needed more attention to feel comfortable with him, you were probably just too shy and insecure and needed a bit more positive attention and encouragement, so he decided that he would continue to help you as often as possible in the belief that you would eventually come around. Weeks passed since he fixed your alarm, and he was beginning to think that you would never approach him. Nathan was yearning for any excuse to go in your home again, where the air smelled so full of your scent and where he could hear that lovely voice of yours, but there was never a reason to go over there of his own initiative and you never approached him. The increasingly desperate alpha decided he would have to make his own opportunities for you to come to him. He knew when you would go on one of your infrequent walks to the corner store. They were like clockwork, you always went on the same days of the month. You normally were gone at least thirty minutes when you left and that gave him more than enough time to sabotage your home. He knew it was wrong to do it, but if there was no other way to get you to approach him then he had to. Nathan was sure that you liked him, you were just too shy and unsure of yourself to let him know you were noticing his advances, and this would also be another good way to show how handy and helpful he would be as your mate. To show he could take care of you. Nathan made sure to scrub himself clean of any scent that could potentially be left as evidence of his actions, then, as soon as you were gone and were out of sight down the road he went to your side of the duplex and rushed to your breaker panel. He flipped a breaker switch and replaced one of your fuses with a blown one, thus shutting off electricity to a large portion of the building. The alpha seriously doubted that you would know what to do to fix the problem and even if you did you probably did not have any fuses laying around. You did not exactly give off a prepared and organized vibe. As he started to leave a curious smell hit his nostrils, beckoning him into your room. He was powerless to resist seeking out the source of that heavenly aroma, that aroma that smelled so purely of you. He followed the scent to your bedroom and slowly opened the door, he knew such an invasion was even worse than what he had already done, but the smell was demanding that he follow his instincts and find the source. Immediately upon stepping into your room a wave of dizzying pheromones and the scent of slick nearly made him stumble backwards. There, in your laundry pile, he found what was emanating the smell that was causing his pants to grow tight. A pair of slick soaked panties lay on top of your laundry hamper, as if waiting for him. He never could have imagined when he entered your home that your heat had just ended and such a treasure would be left for him to enjoy. He pulled them to his nose and inhaled the scent deeply. He blushed when he thought about the fact that his nose was touching fabric that has caressed your pussy. So sweet and a bit musky, an omega’s most delicious scent reserved only for mates. He had to stop himself from masturbating right then and there, because you certainly would have smelled him had he done so. He decided that it would be okay for him to take a pair because you had several similarly colored and messy ones in your hamper and it would be unlikely that you noticed just one missing. Your landlord quickly left the room and closed the door behind him before retreating back to his home. He put your panties under his pillow and thoroughly washed his face off. His trophy would have to be enjoyed later, when you got back you would soon discover the sabotaged electricity and come to him for help. When you got back from your trip to the store, bags of junk food that passed as groceries in your mind in your hands, you did not notice anything amiss. You were completely unaware that anyone had been there. When you went to turn on the kitchen light you realized that it did not work at all. You needed to change the light bulb, that was the obvious thought that entered your mind, but when you opened your fridge to put your food in it you realized the light inside of it was also not working. That was really odd, your power couldn’t be out, the light in the living room came right on when you stepped in your home. You checked some other appliances and it seemed that all electricity in your kitchen was just… not working. Anxiety welled up within you, you did not know the first thing about fixing this type of issue but you dreaded asking Nathan, you knew he was sweet and would probably be happy to take a look at the issue but you really hated to be an inconvenience and in general you just preferred to be independent. You swallowed your anxiety and made your way outside slowly as if each foot was made by lead. You stared at his door, breathed deeply, and rang the doorbell. Nathan answered fairly quickly, opening the door and greeting you with that jovial smile of his. “Hey, how are you? Anything I can help you with?” “Um, yeah, it seems that my electricity is out in my kitchen, I, uh, wouldn’t normally bug you with it, but I don’t want my food to go bad…,” you explained while looking down awkwardly, unable to meet his gaze. “Oh, sure, I can take a look at it no problem, honestly it sounds like maybe a blown fuse. I have some spare ones, let me go grab them just in case.” He went back to his house before returning with something in his hand. You both went into your unit and he walked into the kitchen and checked all of your appliances to verify they really weren’t working before going over to the panel in the wall and pulling out what you guessed was a fuse and replacing it before flipping a switch. Suddenly, much to your relief, all the appliances whirred to life. “Thanks so much! I am sorry I did not know it was something so simple…” “Hey it’s no pr-,” Nathan began to respond, but stopped when he turned around and noticed that you had already retreated back to your computer, typing away diligently. Nathan was beginning to get a bit frustrated, not at you but just at the situation and with myself. He just did not know what he had to do to get your eyes on him, you seemed absolutely immune to flirting and showing off… It was time for the direct approach. Maybe things really just flew over your head or you were afraid to give him any attention for some reason, maybe you had been hurt in a previous relationship, or maybe you just needed someone to show you that you were worth the affection. But whatever it was he decided he would have to use the direct approach, though he would have preferred to have been getting you to notice him a bit more before he did so there was simply no other option left. Tomorrow he would simply ask you out directly. He was a big strong alpha that took care of you, surely you would not say no. He finally left so you could breathe a sigh of relief, you really did not like having others over. You were grateful and all but under Nathan’s smile you were positively convinced that he was judging you, you always caught him staring at you and it made you more than a bit nervous. With him gone you finished up what you had started on, ate one of your dietary staples, a pack of ramen noodles, and washed up before staying up too late and eventually passing out in your bed while watching YouTube videos. Nathan knows that you do not get up early like he does, so he spends all day getting ready. He put together a thoughtfully crafted courting package. Sweet treats that omegas tended to be fond of and some particularly fragrant flowers all wrapped up in one of his slightly worn shirts so that you had a token that smelled of him. He even made sure it was your favorite color, which he guessed based on the décor in your home. He was pretty sure of himself, so he lacked any nervousness when he approached your door and rung the bell. When you heard it you grumbled, as usual you did not want to be disturbed, especially when you had actually managed to start working. You had not even really bothered to get dressed yet, you had been so busy between catching up on sleep and actually being productive with your writing that you had completely forgotten to change out of the clothes from yesterday and now that you had someone at the door you were now painfully aware that your hair was a bit of a mess as well. You straightened your hair the best you could with your fingers and checked to see who was at the door before answering. When you saw that it was Nathan you felt a sharp panic. Had you forgotten to pay rent? Had you done something wrong? Was he finally tired of dealing with you and had decided you needed to leave. Taking a deep breath you opened the door and greeted him. “Oh, uh, hi Nathan, what’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to ask if you would let me court you? You’re such a cute omega and I really think we are compatible. Don’t you think we would make a good match?” He tried to hand you a courting package wrapped up in one of his scented shirts but you did not take it. “Oh, um, I am really sorry about this, but I am not uh… really looking for a relationship right now. I am just trying to focus on myself and my writing… sorry.” Nathan regarded you blankly for a few moments that dragged on and felt like an awkward eternity before he finally acknowledged your words and responded a bit frantically, “If you’re worried about taking care of yourself you wouldn’t need to! I could take care of all your needs!” “That’s the thing, I really just want to make it on my own and take care of myself completely before I have a mate. I am so sorry I hope you understand…” He nodded solemnly and you nervously closed the door. You hoped he didn’t hate you now, he was a nice guy but you had been completely honest with him. Of course Nathan did not hate you now, in fact it may have been better if he had. Instead he was more determined than ever to make you his. His mind just would not accept in any way, shape, form, or fashion that you were uninterested in him. Instead he was in denial, thinking and reaching for any plausible explanation as to why you would want him but say no to his courtship. The delusional alpha finally reached the most reasonable conclusion, you just did not think you were good enough to date him. It was rather obvious when he thought over all the evidence. You lived like someone who had at least partially given up on themselves. You hastily ate whatever was the lowest effort junk food available, your sleep habits were awful, you never left your home and as he was not aware of your online social life he thought you were utterly friendless. It all added up perfectly in his mind, you thought you were bad and needed to be elevated and you desperately needed someone to care for you, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. And, as your self-appointed alpha, it was up to him to make sure your needs were met. He sat down and calmly thought of a plan, the fact that you lived not only in an a home connected to his and owned by him made everything much easier for him. The next time you went on one of your little store trips he would once again put a nefarious plan into motion. Your soon to be lover collected all the necessary materials to have a romantic evening with you, his chubby little omega. He had prepared a meal of lasagna, garlic bread, and a side salad with a fancy bottle of wine. As well as some crucial extras such as rope and chloroform. As soon as you were gone he waltzed right on in and set up a lovely candle lit dinner for you and him to enjoy, you would get to see another way that he could take care of you, making you tasty and nutritious proper meals. When you opened the door to your home you were greeted by the scent of Italian herbs, cheese, the hearty aroma of meat in tomato sauce, fresh cut veggies, and garlic. You were confused, sometimes you could detect the smell of food from Nathan cooking next door, but never this intensely. You took a few steps inside when suddenly someone strong gripped you from behind and put a rag over your face. You thrashed and kicked in a panicked frenzy as a sickeningly sweet smell flooded your nostrils. Your kicks quickly grew feeble before everything went black. When you came to you were seated at your kitchen table, your head fuzzy and rope tightly bound your legs and torso. Your hands were free enough to be able to eat, but they would be useless in breaking your binds. In front of you there was a dinner with presentation that would not be out of place at a five star restaurant. A floral centerpiece, candle light, pasta, salad, and garlic bread. And across the table, staring intensely at you with a smile going from ear to ear, was Nathan. You could smell the excitement radiating off of him, this was a crazed alpha with their mate. “N-Nathan? What’s… going on?” Your fuzzy brain struggled to make sense of what was happening but was rapidly catching on as the drugging continued to fade. “Oh good darling, I am so glad you are awake from your nap! Why don’t you dig in? I worked really hard on a nice homemade dinner for you~” He said everything so casually and sweetly. As if a man talking to his wife and not a man talking to a woman he had forcefully knocked out and restrained. You stared at him silently, your mind struggling to come to grips with what was happening to you. Nathan had always been so nice to you, how could he be capable of something like this? “Go ahead and eat pumpkin, no need to be shy, I know how much you needed a good home cooked meal!” “Wh-what the hell is wrong with you?” You asked angrily as you glared at him, probably the most direct eye contact you had ever made with him. “What do you mean? You don’t like pumpkin as a pet name? We can try others and see what f-” “N-no! What? I don’t mean the name, I mean the fact that you knocked me out and tied me up!!” You were seething now, your rage even affecting your scent and making it more acrid. “Oh, don’t worry about that my darling mate~ I just had to make sure that you wouldn’t try to run out of our date! I know you said you didn’t want to be my mate mate but I know you were just being silly, you are just too shy to admit that you want a mate and you don’t think that you are good enough, but no worries! I will prove to you that you are.” You didn’t know what to say. He was completely unstable. “Please eat baby doll, you really need to,” he pleaded as if you were a petulant child refusing a meal, as if this was an everyday inconvenience and not the result of him assaulting you and tying you up. But eating was the farthest thing on your mind and you did not want to give him the satisfaction of giving in to his demands, and you were not entirely sure he didn’t drug the food with something even more potent. Instead you threw yourself in a rather comical attempt to escape. The way you were tied with your arms partially free and your legs firmly bound made you have to resort to wiggling on the floor like some kind of worm. Nathan got up from his seat, hoisted you up, and sat back down with you in his lap. “I know you are shy and maybe even a bit too prideful, but I promise you will feel better with some food in your belly.” As he said this he rubbed your chubby belly and kissed your cheek lightly before holding a fork full of lasagna up to your face. You knew you were going to start crying before you even felt the first hot tear streak down your cheek, you were powerless and scared of what he could do to you so you reluctantly opened your mouth, allowing him to slide the fork in. What at any other time would have been a flavorful dinner with tangy and savory flavors dancing on your tongue turned now only to cotton, as you struggled past your emotional trauma as you ate each bite that he gave you. As you ate he filled your ear with whispered praises, telling you how you were such a good girl, and you just had a bit more to go, and how he was so happy you were eating properly for him. You ate roughly half of everything that he had put on your plate and once you had he rubbed your back soothingly. “Such a good girl for me. I am so happy. My good little omega~” Don’t worry, you will get used to our life together eventually. You wanted to throw up. But you fought the urge, who knows what he would do if you got sick. Force feed you more? Make you take medicine and baby you? It wasn’t worth the risk. He left you on the chair as he cleaned up after dinner, you shooting him daggers with your eyes the entire time that he was doing so, but he just blissfully hummed to himself the entire time seemingly unaware of your glares. For Nathan everything was finally coming together, he had successfully taken the first crucial steps in getting his mate to accept him. When the kitchen was all clean he took you, still tied up, to the living room and put you on the couch. You didn’t have a tv since you never bothered with anything other than your PC or tablet so he turned his laptop to Netflix and placed it on the coffee table in front of the both of you and turned on your favorite show. Once again your stomach turned a bit, how did he know the things that you liked to watch? Had he really paid such a creepy amount of attention to what you were doing during one of the many times he had been over to fix something? Just how long had he been so obsessed with you, and why? Nathan finally removed your bindings after pulling you close, perhaps realizing that they were more than a bit overkill since you were right up beside him with his arm around you. There was no way you could even attempt to escape without him immediately stopping you. And you certainly weren’t going to make the attempt now, he had knocked you out, tied you up, force fed you, and was living in his own little delusion that you would easily accept him as a partner when you did not even really want a partner even in the best of circumstances. Who knew what he might do to you if you shattered those delusions by escaping. You’d have to lull him into a false sense of security and trust before you attempted to do anything. For now you allowed him to stroke your hair as he watched a show with you, though you were very rigid, scared, and not paying any attention at all to the screen, but if he noticed he did not make a fuss about it, maybe it was enough just to be obedient for the moment. And it was, Nathan knew it would take you a bit of time to adjust. There were always adjustments both parties had to make when starting a new relationship. You had to get used to being around him all the time and used to having someone praise you, build you up, and make sure you were being taken care of. He would have to adjust his time and schedule to give you all the time and attention that you needed and he would have to be really patient with you. It was just part of a new relationship. Nothing to worry about. You continued sitting on the couch for him for what seemed like an eternity. He occasionally planted a gentle kiss on your cheek or on your cheek. You flinched a bit each time that he did, but finally he turned the laptop off. While you were more than a bit relieved you had to fear what would happen next. And your fear only increased as he led you to your bedroom. Apparently he did quite a bit more than just bring dinner over and lay in wait for you. He had reorganized your next, not only tidying it up but also adding several new items that he had personally scented. His musk hung thickly all about the room. He had likely placed scented objects all around the room. You scrunched your face as the smell became increasingly gross to you. This was the ultimate invasion to any omega. A non-consensual intrusion into an omega’s nest was pretty revolting and anxiety inducing. A nest was supposed to be a place where an unmated omega had supreme authority in constructing it in a way to make them feel comfortable, safe, and comfortable. This alpha forcing his scent in not only your den but also your nest made you more nauseous than when you were being forced to eat. As he guided you to your nest you begin to truly panic, thinking you were surely about to be raped. You started to try and turn for the door, but he caught you and held you close while rubbing your back. “Shhh, don’t worry babe, we aren’t going to do anything other than sleep okay? You need to fix your sleep schedule, I am your alpha and have to make sure that you rest enough and you have had a long day. Shhh, just relax,” he whispered in a hush tone before licking your neck in the way an alpha or beta does to relax an omega. Though you were opposed to the licking, and you certainly did not want to be in your tainted nest, you did calm down a bit with his assurances that he wasn’t going to forcefully breed you. You let him lead him into your defiled bedding and lay there. He whispered praises of you being his good girl as he slid in behind you and put his arm around you, pulling you close. You felt the heat of tears as they welled up in your eyes and cried silently until you finally fell into a fitful sleep. You woke up from your light sleep to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sound of meat sizzling from the kitchen. You felt as if you had hardly slept at all and your head was pounding, likely from dehydration from all the crying you did last night. You briefly considered trying to sneak out the front door while he was busy in the kitchen, but the rooms were close and at this time in the early morning there would be absolutely no one outside. He would hear you leave and then snatch you back up immediately. And who knew what the consequences would be. Instead you forced yourself into the kitchen and did your best to act like everything was fine. “Good morning sunshine~ I hope you slept well. Breakfast is almost done, sausage and homemade pancakes. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day so I can’t let you go without it,” once again he was saying all of this so casually, as if you could just so easily accept him as your provider and caretaker. “Th-thanks,” you mumbled while trying to sound at least a little sincere. Nathan thought you were, his heart fluttered thinking you were finally starting to accept him. Which is exactly what you wanted. Nathan wasn’t the only one who could think of a plan. Once he completely let his guard down and left you alone for an extended period of time you would get the hell out of here and go to the police. He had taken away all of your electronics so you had no way to signal for help, so you would have to run. So for the next few weeks you let Nathan think you were warming up to him. You ate his food, let him pull you close, you engaged him in conversations, always acting as sweet as can be, and eventually started leaning on him and holding on to him in bed. It worked like a charm, he started leaving you unattended for a few minutes at a time and that time slowly grew bit by bit until one night he said he had to run out to the store to get some supplies he had forgotten to get earlier that he needed to fix a minor leak in the roof the next day. You told him okay and made a big show of being sleepy and snuggling up in your nest with the big plushy he had gotten and scent marked for you so you could always have his scent by you. When he left the home you stared out the window and waited for his car to move out of sight. When it had you sprang up, quickly put some appropriate clothing and shoes on, and ran out the door. Smacking right into Nathan’s broad chest. He must have parked the car down the street then sprinted here while you were throwing your clothes and shoes on. He was a bit out of breath. It had all been a clever trap to test you. “Nathan… I was… just getting some fresh air. I-i didn’t feel well.” You started to back away but he grabbed your wrist a bit painfully and pulled you back to him. “Don’t give me that. I know you were trying to get away from me. It’s my fault, I gave you a bit too much freedom too quickly. And I should have realized how badly I needed to mark and mate with you to keep you happier. I know you won’t admit that you want it yet, but it is clear you are crying out for it.” “Nathan no. N-no please don’t,” you pleaded desperately, each word out of your mouth dripping with terror. Your self elected alpha ignored all of your objections and struggles as he picked you up and started carrying you to the bedroom. You scratched at him, punched, kicked, elbowed, everything you could do to stop what was about to happen. “Calm down baby girl, I’ll make you feel so much better, I promise. Gonna mark you, breed you, you’ll be so much happier, just calm down.” Nathan deposited you in your shared nest, you tried to push him away with your legs and feet but he just caught them effortlessly before aggressively ripping off your pants and then panties, exposing your pussy to him. Then he moved to your top and bra and removed those as well. Your body was completely uncovered. You tried to cover yourself the best you could with your arms and hands but he just pried them away. He now had you completely pinned and at his mercy. The first thing he went for was your neck, knowing that stimulating your scent glands there would be an effective way to arouse you. He licked up and down the sensitive area before kissing and nibbling on it. Your reaction was as strong as it was involuntary, small gasps and whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy began to drool. He firmly grasped your tits, groping and kneading them in his hands as he continued his assault on your neck. You feared he would make a claiming mark soon, his teeth grazing over your skin threateningly, but so far he had restrained himself from that ultimate act of dominance. You had a moment to collect yourself as he temporarily released you to slide out of his shirt, a light sheen of sweat covering his chest, before then taking off his pants and underwear. His large cock bounced free. “No, no, no please I don-,” you started to protest before your pleas were swallowed up by his lips dominating yours in an oppressive embrace. He broke the kiss as one of his hands slowly traveled down from your side to your pussy. He slowly teased the lips as you continued to mutter, whimper, and whine out little pleas and protests. But despite your obvious lack of consent, each word you uttered was steeped in arousal. It only convinced him that he was doing the right thing, that you were just too shy to admit that you wanted it, that your shyness in conjunction with your pride made you try to run away. Mostly it convinced him more and more that he just needed to open you up, in every sense of the word. And with that thought he finally slid two fingers inside your eagerly waiting cunt. Instinctively at the sensation your body completely betrayed you, your legs spread more as if inviting him in deeper while moving yourself into his touch, grinding into his fingers. “See babe, I knew you wanted this~,” he whispered faintly before sliding another finger into your drooling depths. He didn’t let up, in fact he picked up the pace as you began really fucking yourself on his fingers, your body clearly craving release. His previously acrid smell began to actually smell a lot better to you, desirable even. The combination of domination, neck stimulation, and his skilled fingers lead to you cumming a lot more quickly than you normally would. “Gosh, such a good girl for me, already cumming for me,” he said under his breath more to himself than to you, as he regarded you with awe. You were the picture of perfection to him, simply radiant as you panted and shuddered in the wake of your climax. Nathan licked all your juices off his fingers before kissing a trail from your pudgy belly to your sex. He kissed it deeply before sliding his tongue in, thoroughly making out with your nether-lips. His tongue was eager for every drop of flavor inside your pussy, the pheromones your body was producing sending him into rut as all the sensations began to trigger you into an early heat. His tongue probed and prodded every inch it could reach within you as you kept producing more slick. It wasn’t long before another orgasm hit you, causing you to squeeze his head between your thick thighs. He didn’t mind at all, instead taking pride in the pleasure he was causing your body despite you claiming you didn’t want him to be doing this. You laid back limp panting more than earlier in the wake of your pleasure, now not even able to make a single objection. But your mate was nowhere near done with you. The alpha flipped you over and put you on your tummy, you felt a warmth on your thighs as he rubbed his cock against you before sliding it all the way inside you. He started very slowly moving back and forth in your abused pussy, savoring every shudder and movement you made under him. As he began licking and kissing your neck gently while mating you agonizingly slowly you began to break down and cry, once more feeling that sensation that had gotten all too familiar lately of tears welling up in your eyes and raining down your face. “So good for me, such a good girl, such a good omega. Taking my cock so well, making so much slick for me to slide in easily, so so good,” he told you in a comforting voice as he peppered the side of your face and your neck with a bunch of tiny kisses. You were shaking, so broken by him. The slow speed had become completely torturous. You needed to cum again. Despite your shaking and exhaustion and sheer overstimulation you began to weakly rock against each one of his thrusts, driving him deeply and forcing the pace to go a bit faster. Nathan followed your cue and started going significantly faster, his large cock rubbing against your walls so wonderfully. You felt so betrayed by your body, starting a heat at his actions, pheromones thick in the air beckoning him to continue, body moving instinctively to seek pleasure from your rapist and captor. But you couldn’t help it. His praise for you continued and now became almost like a chant. “So good for me, so good for me, so good, so good, so good, so good…,” as the words of praise and worship for you kept tumbling from his lips his knot started to grow inside you, binding the two of you together. This was when he started really railing you, his swollen knot catching against your inner folds in the best way possible, as if his cock was specifically for your use. The sensations were reaching their peak for the both of you. Your face completely wet with tears of desperation and frustration. Nathan’s mouth was back at your neck and just as he filled your insides with thick potent seed he bit down on your scent gland HARD. You screamed out loud. A brilliant mix of both pleasure and pain mixed through you as the bite sent an almost electric feeling throughout your entire body as it quivered once more with the strongest climax you had ever experienced in your life. It was so immense that you blacked out from all the sensations assaulting your body. Nathan licked your neck of the blood his claiming bite had caused and pulled you close, spooning you as his knot stayed rigid within you. You woke up whimpering as your sore pussy was being bred all over again. Nathan had never pulled out of you and when he woke up he started thrusting lightly, trying not to disturb your rest. He smiled when he saw that your eyes had opened and you were already flushed and flustered from his movements. “Ah, my sleeping beauty is awake, now we can start round two before breakfast~”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Kengan Head Canon: My Only Girl

Yandere Lihito x Childhood friend Afab Reader

TW: unhealthy behaviors, yandere themes, etc.

Lihito has always been like a puppy to you. His eyes always frantically searched for your form in the audience at all his fights. He’d whine if you’d walk too fast for his taste and he’d cling to your side whenever the two of you were together. Your parents constantly asked you if the two of you were dating from how physically affectionate the blonde was… or how his old behavior toward you borderlines on sexual harassment. He’s really matured over the years but it took awhile for him to calm down.

Lihito was obsessed with you… he still was. You’ve been friends for almost two decades and Lihito never stopped chasing after you (or your skirt). You were rather impressed with his determination. A shame he used to make you so uncomfortable.

Lihito used to sneak his hands under your shirt to grab at your stomach or he’d rub your shoulders to try to get you to sleep with him. He’d whisper absolute filth in your ear whenever the two of you were in a crowded area together. And occasionally it would rile you up… not that you’d ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Lihito used to be such a horn dog.

The reason why you didn’t date Lihito was because of how impulsive he was. Lihito was an imbecile and easy to manipulate. He constantly put himself in danger over his pride and you didn’t want to go down with that ship.

This was the first time in four years you’ve seen him. It’s the longest time the two of you have ever been physically apart but Rihito called you every single night (in his time zone) and when he woke up. All because he wanted your face and voice to “start his day and end his night.” Cornball.

The two of you sat together at the park. The blonde had an amicable expression on his face as he fidgets in his seat beside you.

“Why don’t we just date?” Lihito draped a muscular arm over your shoulder with a big grin. “I’m sure we could make it work. I know you don’t have much dating experience either so we could jump all the steps and get married!”

“You don’t really live the safest of lives, Lihito.” You told your friend with a frown. There were many times you were terrified he’d die but somehow he always pulled through. “You’ve been conned before too and close to death. I couldn’t worry about my partner constantly. I’d die early.”

Lihito frowned but he pulled your body closer to his. “Well I’m a lot stronger now. I’ve really pushed myself past my limits to make it this far. I’ve really grown over the last few years…”

Lihito rested his head on your shoulder, his blond hair tickled you a bit. “I want to be a better man not just for myself but for you.”

You felt yourself crumble when he gave you puppy eyes. Curse him and his big, baby blue eyes. His stupidly pretty eyes

Lihito nearly whined aloud when you held his cheeks in your palms. “You’re so corny.”

When your lips pressed against his large nose, it was over. The blonde quickly grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap, his lips eagerly pressed against yours. His kisses were sloppy and his ardent touches were rough, but you could feel how much he adored you with each touch. You felt as if you were on fire from his love.

You gasped when you felt him grind against you. “Woah there tiger-“ you’re pulled into another needy kiss as Lihito’s hands sneak under your shirt to grasp at your chest. “Lihito-“

“I’ve waited over a decade to touch you…” Lihito muttered into yours lips. His blue eyes heavy with lust. “I can’t wait anymore. I want you right here… right now.”

“At least in a bed.” You laughed at how quickly he scooped you up into his arms. “Impatient much?”

“You’re lucky I love you because I would’ve just done it on that park bench.” Lihito told you, his eyes filled with admiration for you. “Just know you’re not going to be able to walk for a few days until I’ve had my fill.”

“Is this how you talk to all your girls?”

“Girls? What girls? I only have you.” Lihito smiled at you. “You’re my one and only girl.”

[royalsweetteaa]

Dark!Ransom and innocent reader.

imagine he gets hard again but for the first time he doesn’t hide it. So she notices it and ask him about it. He wants and needs her touch so he acts like he is hurt and needs a special massage.

Ofc she wants to help him and he teaches her how to give a hand job (make it seem like a massage) 🥵

Title: A little help

Dark!Best friend!Ransom Drysdale x naive!innocent!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: Explicit smut/DUB-CON, power imbalance, abuse of innocence, childhood best friends AU, manipulation, soft!dark!Ransom, possessive/obsessive!Ransom, mentions of virginity, virginity kink, oral sex (M receiving), dirty talk, dirty thoughts, slight degradation, praising, use of petname (missy, darling), Ransom is a pervert.

Summary: Ransom decides to use his best friend’s naivety and innocence when he can’t hold himself back from desiring her anymore.

3rd person POV

For the longest time Ransom can remember, he has always had a major crush on his childhood best friend, - Y/N L/N. He had managed to suppress it for the longest time, - through primary school, middle school, high school and currently college - the last being the brink of breaking his resolution.

His heart couldn’t take it anymore witnessing his darling gaining more male attention as years went by. She would be approached by guys sometimes here and there, but Ransom always successfully managed to scare them away with his death glare alone. He had loved her since before she flourished into the beautiful lady she had become, and he didn’t think anyone would ever deserve loving only a piece of something that goes beyond her as a person.

He is the only one to know her to the fullest, he had told himself. He was there from when they were kids, playing house in the backyard, to when they finally graduated high school and he took her first kiss accidentally while they were drunk in his newly bought beemer, - his graduation present.

He wasn’t drunk though.

They had shared sweet moments that could never compare to anything she could possibly share with another potential partner, and that was why he had decided he would try winning her heart beyond their hard bonded friendship. To try breaking their friendship in a way that works in both favors.

He wants her feel those tingles whenever she saw him instead of the usual pure excitement. He wants her to want him as much as he wants her.

One time on a nice Friday evening when she was at his apartment for a movie night, he decided to walk around with his sweater off, - his excuse being that he was feeling ‘too hot’. No knowledge to her, it was all about teasing and attracting her to him.

He wanted to know if his body could awake subtle reactions from her, and to his delight it did. In the corner of Ransom’s eye, while he settled down on the couch beside her again, he could see her widened eyes wandering, with her thighs subconsciously rubbing against each other. He smirked, pretending he was finding something amusing on the TV screen, but in his head he had confirmed something.

She is sexually attracted to me.

I have a chance.

After a brief silence between the two, he had wanted to break it, but Y/N beat him to it.

“Ransom…” she murmured his name, audibly enough to catch his attention, though it had never left her anyway. He turned his head, curious to hear what she had to say.

Her eyes wandered a bit once more with furrowed eyebrows, as if she was dealing with conflicting thoughts or trying to find the right words.

“I just realized…you’ve grown to be a very pretty man, you know that right?”

Ransom was left with his lips parted, surprised to be hearing that of all the things she could have said.

But actually no. He wasn’t too surprised, - far from it the more he rethought it.

Because she was not like any other girl he had hooked up with previously when he had tried to suppress his feelings for his best friend. She was not like the ones who would call him smoking hot and sexy whenever he stripped in front of them and was ready to have them make his dick wet.

No, she was far too pure for that.

‘Pretty man’, - so innocent and simple. That was enough for him to know he had to make her become his. He had always fantasized about it, but now it was a matter of making it a reality.

The thought of letting her go to someone else - to have someone else take her innocence to their self pleasure made him see red. Ransom could not allow that. He could never bear it.

Ransom thanked her for the compliment and excused himself after as he felt he was growing hard, his large bulge becoming visible through his pants. He had to wank one off in the bathroom as he had his thoughts surrounded of her. Imagining his cock between those plump lips of hers was enough to make him cum so quickly.

“Fuck, Y/N…my darling….” he muttered her name, adding her petname through a moan as he was cumming and wasting his load into the toilet water.

Ransom had to reassure himself that one day he would not waste it, - that it would instead be all for her to drink and be stuffed full of. He was looking forward to when that time would come.

Time passed by quickly and it was another Friday movie night, this time at hers.

Her place of which if anything were to go wrong, she would have nowhere to go.

They were getting into one of Y/N’s favorites, - ‘Titanic’. Ransom decided he would put his perverted plan of the night in action again halfway through the movie, though this one was beyond simply exposing his chest.

Ransom made himself think of the dirtiest things, - how it would be to have a taste of her with her thighs spread wide open as he ravaged her. How it would be to slip his fingers into her cute, slippery wet cunt as he witnessed her face fall apart from pleasure. How it would be if she put his hands on him, - oh, how he was craving her touch so bad.

His grin turned wicked when he felt himself growing hard under his pants. He spread his legs wider, practically displaying his boner as he pulled an uncomfortable frown and groaned. His knee bumped into Y/N’s, which was when she looked down unbothered only to notice his massive tent, almost poking out through his trousers.

Her eyes widened with surprise, leaving her speechless when Ransom had caught her looking. “Uh, Ransom…you’re…um…”

Ransom’s eyes trailed down to where Y/N was firmly staring at and shrugged casually, “Oh yeah, it’s been bugging me all day. Been hard and it fucking hurts…”

“Hurts?” She asked, her tone of worry now, and Ransom swore he could have busted a nut with how her doe eyes were staring at him with her lips parted.

“Yeah, darling…it hurts cause my dick’s hard as a rock and I’m not able to relieve myself…it strains me and because of that I’m in pain.” Ransom almost whined, his eyebrows knitted as if sharing this piece of experience was painful in itself. He palmed his bulge, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh…” Y/N responded, bewildered and a bit embarrassed she hadn’t known of this. “That sounds terrible…maybe we should call a doctor?”

“Missy, the doctor’s not going to be able to help me with this at 09:30 PM…” Ransom said in midst of laughing. “It’s not how it works anyway…I need something that can…stimulate me,…you know, like a massage. But my own hand doesn’t work. It’s like how it doesn’t feel as good to scratch your own back as when somebody else does it for you. It just feels better and makes me loosen up...” Ransom explained carefully.

There was a brief silence where Y/N was biting her lip as if she was thinking thoroughly about what to say next. It didn’t take long until she met his gaze again.

“Do you…want me to help you, Ran? I can give you a massage if you need it…”

And he had her exactly where he wanted her.

His face lit up innocently, but it was all pretend. “You’d really do that for me, darling?”

“Yes, I don’t want you to hurt anymore…- but I don’t know how to help without it being weird between us….it would be out of place if we were to…you know…do ‘inappropriate things’…no?”

Ransom was aware Y/N knew what sex was. Everyone had went through sex eduction after all. However, to his advantage she had no clue about male anatomy. He could say his cum is a good recourse of protein and she would probably believe it. But while it was tempting to convince her to have her use her mouth this evening, he knew for her sake that it would be best to take it slow.

“It won’t be weird, missy…it’s just a ‘special massage’, nothing else…- what, were you thinking of sex? Is that where your head’s at?”

“No! No, no, no, I-I just…I didn’t think…” she was stumbling with her words at this point, her cheeks flushed as she looked to the side while Ransom began to unzip his pants.

“Hm, your mind is dirtier than I thought. Helping your best friend feel better from being uncomfortable isn’t sex. You’re a dumb baby for assuming that’s how it works.”

Y/N’s face scrunched, growing more embarrassed as Ransom taunted her innocence. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know…” she then inched closer to him, ready to give him a helping hand like she always do.

Ransom swore he could feel his heart skip a few beats as his eyes followed her hand, reaching out for his cock. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but then again Ransom always got what he wanted.

He could sense Y/N’s hesitance as she placed her hand beneath his cock, on his pants. He snickered while reaching for her shoulder to pat with reassurance.

“Go on, don’t be shy…” Ransom purred as he rested his arms on the sofa cushions. “I trust you. Don’t you trust me, missy?”

She looked up at him once again, nodding with a timid smile before her fingertips reached over to wrap around his shaft, making him groan.

“That’s it…grab firmly around the base and keep motioning it up and down to the tip..” he instructed, his breathing already turning irregular with each stroke Y/N did. Her hand was so soft, and what made him feel all the more aroused was facing with the fact that it was hers. Her delicate hand working on his cock, something he has dreamed of for so long.

“Am I doing a good job, Ran? Is the pain going away?” Y/N asked innocently, her face with complete concentration on doing her given task.

“You’re doing amazing, darling…fuck, you’re making me feel so good too. Such a good girl you are..” he rasped his praise to her. Ransom’s eyes were clouded with lust as he stared back at her. He took a quick peek at her breasts, which with her current crouched position were being squished together, defining their round forms better. He let out a sharp gasp for air as he shut his eyes again, concentrating on not cumming too quick.

“Fuck, if you could just…fondle my balls with your other hand, - the pain will go away faster…”

Y/N immediately followed through with his next demand, cupping his heavy balls while she stroked his length, pre-cum dripping heavily.

Y/N’s breathing was growing shallow, her face flushed as her eyes didn’t stop staring down his cock with fascination. How big and veiny he was. She was practically drooling at the sight as it throbbed for each thrust, pulsing for more.

She had denied being a virgin once when Ransom had asked about it, but with the way she was looking at his cock, he could tell she probably still was but was too embarrassed to admit it back then.

He preferred thinking of it that way anyway. He should be the first to enter her little cute pussy when the time was right after all. Only him.

“Go faster, darling…ngh I’m so close…so close to feeling better.” Ransom moaned while gripping the sofa cushions. Y/N bit her lip at his response and eagerly used both of her hands to stroke him faster.

It was too much for him. He had craved her touch for so long, and now that he was getting his craving, he was becoming overwhelmed. With her, he had turned into a horny teenager again. It couldn’t be helped.

Ransom threw his head back as he announced his climax, “Fuck! Shit! M’gonna…!” and with that, his cum spurted out while his hips rocked upwards, the substance mostly splattering on Y/N’s hand making her yelp in surprise. His cock became glazed with his load, making it look even more tasty for Y/N.

Y/N didn’t know why she was feeling so needy and hot by the sight of it. She only knew it felt good.

She witnessed his cock softening, and to that she was convinced she had successfully helped her best friend make ‘his pain’ go away. She looked at him in the eye, hoping he could confirm.

When his breathing became regular again, he raised his head up again to look at her and smiled proudly.

Ransom quickly tucked his cock back in his pants and wiped her hand from the spurts that had got her with the use of a napkin as he gave her a kiss on her cheek, before pulling her into his embrace, “Mmh, my dear best friend…you did such a good job of making my pain go away. I can always count on you.”

They stopped paying much attention to the movie playing in front of them as they cuddled, and Ransom was already planning in his head for next week’s movie night. He couldn’t wait.

A/N: Thank you anon for sparking me with some inspiration! This was very enjoyable to write!

Hearts & Reblogs are always appreciated! <3