#no clue if that last one needs to be tagged | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saintobio · 8 months ago

Text

blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable.

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it?

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family.

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this.

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight.

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.”

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first?

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really?

“I want to do it.”

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.”

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure.

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was.

Did Sukuna feel the same?

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.”

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was?

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.”

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face.

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk.

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed.

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was.

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.”

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.”

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.”

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.”

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.”

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom.

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds.

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it.

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked.

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here.

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?”

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.”

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V.

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking.

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it?

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.”

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such.

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.”

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?”

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.”

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?”

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment.

Holy fuck was all you could say.

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty.

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.”

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier.

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing.

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.”

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself.

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out.

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?”

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw?

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.”

“Okay…”

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you.

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be.

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding.

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore?

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance.

“Haaa—!”

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock.

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!”

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!”

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you.

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.”

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.”

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have.

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.”

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.”

Why did he sound like he was giving up?

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.”

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.”

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.”

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay.

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly.

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s.

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.”

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.”

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on.

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued.

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this?

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.”

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.”

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school.

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.”

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.”

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.”

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.”

“Be serious,” you warned.

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.”

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?”

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?”

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.”

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment.

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.”

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark.

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?”

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?”

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires.

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.”

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?”

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.”

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this.

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too.

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue.

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together.

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating.

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close.

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face.

His ex-girlfriend of three years.

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?”

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies.

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.”

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?”

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.”

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here?

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.”

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?”

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.”

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve.

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.”

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!”

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head.

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed?

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it.

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?”

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.”

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?”

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.”

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?”

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?”

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.”

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life.

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right.

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart.

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?”

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.”

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp.

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.”

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.”

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.”

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?”

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad.

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit.

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.”

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared.

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.”

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.”

He knew what she was about to do next.

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses.

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face.

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.”

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night.

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you.

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago.

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do.

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart.

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?”

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?”

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.”

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?”

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.”

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?”

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out.

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.”

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!”

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!”

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.”

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you.

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you.

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way.

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others.

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up.

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop.

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.”

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully.

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.”

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well.

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.”

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.”

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.”

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future.

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #tattoo artist sukuna #biker sukuna #tattoo artist x florist au

4K notes · View notes

sappholopodding · 1 year ago

Text

forgot ONE DAY of birth control and now i’m experiencing the menstrual cycle from hell.

#NOT FAIR :(#i dont know how on earth i forgot it i wasn’t even doing anything interesting last night #i haven’t missed a pill in MONTHS so this is gonna suck ass #blue’s clues #prescription drugs mention #i hope that is okay for a tag if i need one

1 note · View note

street-smarts00 · 5 months ago

Text

Weirdest Place

Spencer Reid x gen neutral!reader

Summary: The team finds out you and Spencer have been dating during a night out.

WC: 1.1k

A/N: this is yet another fic based on an episode of friends, specifically a scene from the blackout episode but i added a fun twist lol

Tags: conversations about sex but not smut, established relationship between r & reid, consumption of alcohol

After the team was finished at the BAU they all went out to a local bar for drinks. As the night went on JJ and Hotch left to be at home with their kids. With their boss gone and the tipsiness from their drinks, the topic of conversation got more and more inappropriate.

“A boat?” Rossi asked

“Yes,” Derek confirmed

“A boat?” Emily spoke this time.

“Why don’t you believe me?” Derek asked, slightly offended.

Emily raised her hands in defense, “It’s not that we don’t believe you.”

“It just seemed like your weirdest place would be a bit more adventurous based on how you brought it up,” Rossi voiced.

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, “and a boat isn’t adventurous?”

“No it is,” Penelope chuckled before reaching for her drink. Of course, she’d already heard about Derek’s nautical escapades.

Derek directed his attention back to Emily, “And what about you? What’s your weirdest place?”

She leaned back in her seat with a tinge of embarrassment she tried to hide with smugness. “That’s classified,”

Rossi and Derek cringed at Emily’s diversion.

“Oh god,” Rossi chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I even wanna know?” Derek asked half joking.

Emily shrugged instead of answering. Derek decided he was better off not pushing Emily to share her story. He then brought his attention to the man across from him.

“What about you, pretty boy?”

Spencer’s head darted to him with raised eyebrows. “Me?”

“You got a weirdest place?”

“I- um.”

His ears started to turn a shade of crimson and he stuttered on his words, or lack thereof since he was caught off guard.

“It’s probably like a library or something,” Rossi jokes, earning a bright laugh from Derek.

Penelope set her drink down, “don’t make him say it if he doesn’t- “

“Actually it was.”

Everyone froze and turned to Spencer.

Emily was the first to speak, “What?”

Spencer shifted in his seat while the courage he had before started to dwindle. His face was now officially turning red.

“Me and um- someone were at the library because I was showing her it’s Edgar Allen Poe collection. Then at some point we ended up in … um the second floor bathroom.”

“Oh my god,” Penelope giggled before placing her hand on her mouth in shock.

“I can’t believe I was right,” Rossi commented.

“I can’t believe Spencer Reid was getting freaky in a library,” Derek said with a humorous grin.

“Shut up,” Spencer squeaked in a high pitched voice.

He hoped the topic of conversation would quickly be dropped so he didn’t have to reveal too much about his love life. But he suspected that wouldn’t happen once you came back to the table.

You and Spencer had started dating a few months prior and wanted to keep things to yourselves. You both intended to figure out the beginning of your relationship without the eyes of your friends.

“The line for the bathroom was so long,” you complained as you approached the table and sat down next to Spencer. “What did I miss?”

“Oh we never heard Y/N’s place,” Penelope excitedly pointed out.

You looked at her confused, “What place?”

“I have no clue how we got here but they all started talking about the weirdest places they’ve had sex,” Emily explained.

“Wow. Well, when I’m done I need to hear all of yours,” you pointed your glass in a motion towards all of them before drinking the last sip.

“I usually don’t venture outside the bedroom but out of the few times I have I think there’s two tied for first place.”

“What’s one of them?”

“Library.”

Silence fell over the group. Spencer’s stomach dropped to the floor at your answer. His face turned cherry red and his eyes remained frozen on the table in front of him.

You on the other hand were baffled at the reaction from your friends.

“What?”

While your eyes scanned the group you were met with relatively neutral expressions that didn’t match the growing tension in the air. All of them looked as if they wanted to say something, but not one of them was ready to speak.

Embarrassment and regret were creeping their way towards you in silence. Your body tensed up and you folded your arms in front of you.

“Come on guys, it's not that weird. It’s not like we were in an aisle, we were in the bathroom,” you tried to defend yourself.

That sentence seemed to spark something in the group. Their body language started to relax but still had a bit of hesitation. They all knew at this point, but they wanted you to confirm it.

“What floor?”

You followed the voice to Emily “Excuse me?”

“What floor was the bathroom on?”

You couldn’t wrap your head around her question.

“Why does that matter?”

“It does, which floor?” Penelope questioned this time.

“Second I think,” you hesitated, still confused.

“Oh my god!” Penelope squealed. “You guys are sleeping together?”

With your eyes wide, face hot, and heart pounding, you stared at her. Trying to figure out how a story like this was one they already heard. You forgot until now that they were already playing this game before you got back.

Turning to the side you playfully smacked Spencer’s arm. “You told them that?”

He gaped at you and grabbed his arm. Face still red of course now accompanied with a crack in his voice. “I didn’t think you were gonna tell them. I thought you would have talked about the other time.”

“Why would I tell them that?” You said in a quieter tone.

“What other time?” Derek interrupted, filled with curiosity.

Rossi pipped in next, “you said two places were tied for weirdest, what’s the other place?”

You and Spencer went quiet. You looked at each other before returning your gaze to the group.

“I think this is a great time to get a refill,” you grabbed your glass and stood up. “Spencer, coming with?”

He quickly scrambled to stand up, “Absolutely.”

The two of you made your way to the bar as your friends all started murmuring.

“So, you didn’t want to tell them you had sex on a plane?” He asked with a slight smirk.

“No, of course not!” You squealed which earned a laugh from him.

“Eventually they would’ve found out we’re dating and I didn’t want them to figure out it was on the jet,” you explained.

“It’s not like any of them were there,” he said before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I still don’t wanna get fired.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

mclqren · 8 months ago

Text

THE LECLERC CHRONICLES ★ F1 GRID

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!younger sister!reader ; f1 grid x fem!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you're the younger sister of charles leclerc, and your relationship with the rest of the f1 grid has the internet going crazy [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ reader is 22 years old, and the youngest leclerc sibling. this one is a bit shorter than my other smaus, sorry for that! the fc i've used is lexi jayde, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

SERIES ✦ the leclerc chronicles masterlist ; next part

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 776,319 others

yourusername it's tough work being the hottest leclerc 🤷‍♀️

view all comments

user1 UGH SHE'S SO PERFECT

user2 my fav leclerc sibling!!

charles_leclerc the caption 🤔🤔

yourusername am i lying though?? 😘

arthur_leclerc i think you are!

yourusername i think it's just you (& charles) who think that!

landonorris so what's the crown for then?

yourusername because im a queen. i need no other reason 😊👑

landonorris self proclaimed queen or-?

yourusername im queen of the grid, now bow down, bitch!

alex_albon you don't even drive-???

yourusername stop it rn or i'll tell charles to ram into both of you on the track 😊❤️❤️

georgerussell who are the flowers from 🤨🤨

yourusername my man, who else?

georgerussell okay be honest now y/n...who are they from.

yourusername and if i told you ur girlfriend then what 🤷‍♀️

carmenmmundt only woman i need 😘😘

georgerussell WOAHHH SLOW YOUR ROLL GUYS

carlossainz55 loving the sunglasses, y/n! 😎😎

yourusername awww you type like such a dad but ur forgiven bc ur my fav ferrari driver 💗

charles_leclerc helloo i'm your older brother??

yourusername hey, i'm still allowed to have my favorites!

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 801,211 others

yourusername bahrain weekend woohooo!! TEAM LECLERC (third slide is for motivation ❤️)

view all comments

user3 THE THIRD SLIDE IM WHEEZING

user4 SHE'S SO FUCKING FUNNY

charles_leclerc the last slide??? im telling maman ☹️

maxverstappen1 maybe you can beat me with that motivation!

yourusername he speaks the truth charlie soz 🤷‍♀️ AND PLS DONT TELL MAMAN IM SORRY

francisca.cgomes ur sooo 😍😍

yourusername leave pierre for me rn. im richer i swear

pierregasly huh?

yourusername see, not a thought behind those eyes! run away w me bbg 😘

francisca.cgomes okay you've convinced me, give me ten minutes x

yourusername HAAA GOT UR GIRL GASLY

landonorris the coat in bahrain weather??

oscarpiastri how is she surviving??

yourusername a girl does what a girl has to do 🤷‍♀️ maybe you should both take fashion tips from me anyway xx

charles_leclerc you aren't being rude are you y/n?!

yourusername noooo!! im offering friendly advice 😊

lance_stroll i wonder who bought you the first shirt...🤨

yourusername my rich nepo baby friend, thanks again boo 😘

lance_stroll wowww you're literally a nepo baby sister idk what ur on about

yourusername im actually famous for my incredible looks & witty humor, not my fugly brothers

charles_leclerc why are you so rude to us ☹️

yourusername it comes from a place of love 💗

logansargeant i wonder whose sunglasses you're wearing?!

yourusername idk i just found them!!

yourusername

( caption one: the third wheel lifestyle is NOTTT for the weak 😔 + tags | caption two: yeah i took this photo asw. can they stop being so fucking happy please it's making me depressed 😔 )

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 781,221 others

tagged francisca.cgomes

yourusername who needs a man when you have kika 😘 ( ps no clue who the other people in the last pic were, but whatevs )

view all comments

user5 the y/n lifestyle is something i needddd

user6 SO REAL FOR THIS

user7 outfitsss!! 😍

francisca.cgomes love you 😘

yourusername LOVE YOU MORE 💗💗

landonorris what on earth were you drinking

yourusername idk but it was fizzy and orangey and it was yum

alex_albon orangey isn't a word ❌

yourusername ACTUALLY ☝️ it is. sooo idk what ur on about mate

pierregasly are you even of age to be drinking

yourusername IM THE SAME AGE AS UR GF??? ur just jelly she prefers me to you

pierregasly ☹️☹️

logansargeant the winnie the pooh shirt 🔥

yourusername do americans even know winnie the pooh...

logansargeant clearly??

charles_leclerc how much did you have to drink

yourusername none of ur concern brother!

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 1,002,665 others

tagged yourusername

landonorris y/n's signature pose: hands under the chin (she forced me to post this please come save me guys)

view all comments

user8 SHE'S SOOO ICONIC

user9 CAPTION LOOLLL LOVE Y/N

yourusername live laugh love me!!

alex_albon is it now...

yourusername SHUT UP ALBONNN IT IS

yourusername guys the caption is a liee i swear he just loves me 💗

landonorris urm who told you that mate

yourusername shut up or i'll send you back to the basement 😁 no one cares enough to save you

georgerussell63 carmen's looking over my shoulder and says y/n's a cutie

yourusername TELL CARMEN I LOVE HER AND TELL HER TO COME OVER TONIGHT 😘😘

pierregasly are you just after everyone's girlfriend then?

yourusername yup! single life = hoe life, @/alex_albon lily's next 😘

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 800,219 others

yourusername hey alexa, play art deco by lana del rey ( 📸 @/arthur_leclerc )

view all comments

user10 SHE LISTENS TO LANA?

user11 SHE'S ONE OF US FR

user12 the dress wooowwww

charles_leclerc when did you take these 🤨

yourusername don't worry about it 💗

arthur_leclerc we had tons of fun without you ❤️❤️

yourusername ARTHUR DON'T BE MEAN (it's true)

charles_leclerc ☹️☹️☹️

lilymhe 😍😍

yourusername LOVE YOU LILS 💗

yourusername but also ops on leaving alex for me...just for research purposes

alex_albon Y/N STOP IT SHE'S MY GF

yourusername leave me alone im single and sad :(

lance_stroll did i not buy you that dress for christmas

yourusername yes you did!! thanks again lance it was a LOVELY investment 😘

yourusername

( caption one: guess where i am!! 🇦🇺 | caption two: yeah yeah the flag gave it away whatever look at my new best friends 🦒 )

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 833,331 others

yourusername aussie aussie aussie... (australians finish the chant)

view all comments

user13 she's so perfect

user14 wait is she charles' sister??

user15 yup!! she's the youngest of the leclerc siblings

oscarpiastri coming from an australian...no 🧡

yourusername lucky for me ur not the only australian i know...so!

danielricciardo OI OI OI 🇦🇺🇦🇺

yourusername @/oscarpiastri LOOLLLL POINT MADE

oscarpiastri DANIEL WE'RE MEANT TO BE AUSSIE BUDDIES WHY WOULD YOU BETRAY ME

danielricciardo THE CHANT WAS CALLING TO ME I CANT HELP IT

charles_leclerc FORZA FERRARI

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername idk red's not really my color...might have to step into the mclaren paddock next time to see if orange suits me better

charles_leclerc as my sister you can't fraternise with the enemy

yourusername yeah but y/n leclerc does whatever she pleases and right now she wants to wear an orange jacket 🤷‍♀️

landonorris *papaya, not orange

yourusername yeah yeah pls give me a vip paddock pass for japan thank you lan 😘🫶

georgerussell63 the first picture??

yourusername i dropped my ice cream and my WONDERFUL brother decided to capture the moment instead of comforting me ☹️

charles_leclerc it was so funny you just had to be there

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 872,339 others

tagged charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

yourusername FERRARI 1-2 I KNOW THAT'S RIGHTTT!! PROUD OF MY BROTHER(S) (and little lando norris congrats on 3rd 😘)

view all comments

user16 THE CAPTIONNN BROTHERS IM CRYING

user17 the way she said in a podcast once that carlos being in her life was like having ANOTHER older brother makes me cry its so sweet

user18 FERRARI IS MY RED FLAG YESSS 🚩🚩

charles_leclerc rare post of you being proud of me?

yourusername it's mainly for carlos...but i'm proud of you too i guess!

charles_leclerc but i'm your brother??

yourusername idk ur both my brothers in my eyes 💗💗

carlossainz55 te amo y/n! ❤️

logansargeant embracing your inner cowboy, i see! very american of you 🤠

yourusername RAHHH WHAT IS A KILOMETRE 🦅🦅🦅

lance_stroll nurse, she got out again

yourusername SHUT UP LANCELOT ur just jealous that i prefer america to canada!! ❤️

landonorris thanks for the caption y/n, but are you not looking for a way out of the ferrari paddock...🤨🤨

yourusername unfortunately mr norris i have to be a supportive big sister on days like today, where my dear brother has done an exceptional job at racing. i hope you understand, and i offer you my deepest condolences ❤️

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

might make a p2 to this idk :)

2K notes · View notes

beejunos · 7 months ago

Text

UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader

Summary: As Alastor's shadow starts to act strangely, hidden feelings are brought to light.

This wonderful story was written from @lustylita's wonderful idea! The story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words. Their original post can be found here.

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, hidden feelings, angst

The last couple of weeks have been very strange to you.

Well, stranger than the hotel usually was.

Over the past few weeks, you have helped your best friend, Charlie, with her little passion project. The Hazbin Hotel - your only chance at redemption!

While you couldn't say that you inherently believed in her dream, you would have been a poor friend if you hadn't tried to help her—emphasis on tried. Growing up within Hell's elite, where someone always handed you everything on gold platters, didn't foster any usable skills that could help run a severely understaffed hotel. The very thought of having to clean your own room had almost immobilised you.

Did you really need to vacuum the walls and the ceilings every week? How did the cleaning staff back at your parents' manor even do it? The manor was huge!

Thankfully, you had not been forced to clean for long because shortly after Charlie had opened the hotel for business, an unwanted guest had come knocking at the door. Alastor and his somewhat reluctant companies, except for Niffty, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, quickly made themselves at home in the hotel.

The same night they arrived, you and Vaggie had sat Charlie down in their room and begged the princess not to let the radio demon stay. After all, the tales of his deeds had even reached your family's manor in the Envy ring of Hell. But Charlie had been persistent, saying that maybe by staying in the hotel, she could change his ways. You loved your friend; you really did, but sometimes you wanted to shake some sense into her violently.

There was nothing you could do about the radio demon and how he just took over many of the work duties you had at the hotel. Waltzing in as if he owned the hotel, he had taken one look at your work and deemed it unsatisfactory.

"No, no, let me do it, doll!" he would say condescendingly, making rage lick up your spine, "We would want this to be done well for Charlie, now, wouldn't we?"

You had lost count of all the times you fantasised about grabbing a chair and introducing it to his face.

He made you feel incompetent, and worst of all, he was right. Most of the work you had done that he had redone was of better quality, more detailed, and better planned. If you had been a weaker demon, you would have given up, apologised to Charlie and gone home to your parents, but so, if the heavens would be your witnesses, you were going to crush that smug little bastard of a sinner!

And so began your imaginary battle with Alastor about who could be the best executive producer. If you had asked Alastor, he would not have had any clues about what you were doing, only that it finally seemed like you were taking your job seriously. That said, he still did not like you. You were a spoiled little demon brat who had never worked a hard day in your life, and worst of all, you were sloppy with your work.

But time kept ticking. The days passed, the hotel was filled with new residents, and somehow, you and Alastor were able to work together. Nevertheless, you only managed to do it by never being near each other, which worked wonderfully for you because the man could actually be quite okay when he was silent and on the other side of the room.

You could have continued to live like this for as long as Alastor decided to live in the hotel. There was just this teeny tiny thing that perplexed you.

Alastor's shadow liked to be around you.

It had begun quite innocently with the shadow coming over to you one night when you were sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with yesterday's newspaper in your lap since you had started to do the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper. You had been staring at the same clue for what felt like an hour, and you just couldn't figure it out. Out of nowhere, a shadowy finger had tapped on the clue to get your attention, and when you looked up, two empty holes for eyes had looked back at you with the biggest twisted grin full of teeth you had ever seen.

"Fuck! Don't do that!" you whispered forcefully, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that finally had fallen over the hotel lobby. "What do you want?"

Prepared to be bothered any second now by the radio demon, you got even more confused when the shadow started doing pantomimes. Why in the seven Hells was it swimming across the wall?

You looked on as the shadow began to swim back to you, tapped on the clue and started to swim again.

"Swimming? But it has nothing to do with activities! It is something about effort," you said as the shadow returned to you. Since it could not speak, the shadow just started to nod its head and tapped on the clue again.

"Is it a word derived from the word swimming?" you asked hesitantly as the shadow continued to nod.

You turned back to the clue before you—a word for no effort needed and swimming.

"Swimmingly?" you asked the shadow, who gave you an even bigger sinister smile and nodded again before it disappeared up the stairs. Again, you were left in the lobby with only the crackling fire as a company, looking over at the stairs after the strange entity that was Alastor's shadow.

The next couple of weeks just grew more and more strange with every day. Out of nowhere, Alastor's shadow started to just interact with you. It began as innocent waves to you behind Alastors back, and at first, you wouldn't wave back, but when you saw how sad the shadow got if you didn't return its greeting, you started to wave back to it. On a few occasions, Alastor had caught you in the act, which quickly prompted you to swat the air around you as if you were trying to get rid of a fly.

When the waves weren't enough for the shadow, it started to appear around you, helping you in various ways. Once, it even helped you find some important paper you needed for your job that you were convinced Alastor had hidden from you.

It turned out that Alastor's shadow was much more pleasant company than its physical part, and you often welcomed the shadow's help with your crosswords during the evenings.

However, you were again thrown for a loop when the shadowed behaviour started to change. It began to interact with you even more, seeking you out during the day and staying for long periods at a time, just hanging around you or observing what you were doing.

One day, it had even brought you a blueberry muffin from the bakery you liked across town. You had no idea how it had even done that. For all you knew, shadows were not physical things and could not interact with the physical world. However, you were promptly proven wrong when Alastor's shadow took your own shadow's hand and pulled you down the hallway to show you the roses that had started to bloom outside of the hotel.

It was a paradox, a mystery that intrigued you. Alastor's shadow, a creature of darkness, was surprisingly sweet, charming, and, at times, downright romantic. How could such a lovely thing be attached to such a vile being?

It had been like any other day. Alastor's shadow had found you in your office early in the morning, going through all the paperwork that needed to get done that day. In its shadowy hand, it held one blueberry muffin and your favourite coffee mug with a sleepy bear on it, along with the text Bearly Awaken written underneath.

The coffee had been divine because, somewhere, the shadow had learned to make a cup of coffee exactly how you wanted it.

You continued with your day in the presence of Alastor's shadow, walking together down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the front door as you chatted with the shadow. You had gotten quite good at interpreting its pantomimes and overexaggerated emotions and often found yourself laughing at any antics the shadow pulled.

It followed you all day as you walked around the city, picking up the materials Charlie needed for her next exercise with the hotel residents. The shadow even helped you pick out the colours for the ribbons and paints.

At one point, the shadow's long finger had brushed against yours. It had been a cold sensation, almost like being touched by mist, but that had not mattered to you as you blushed before looking away. Missing how the shadow practically folded in on itself when it saw your reaction.

Was it possible to date a shadow and not the being it was attached to?

The sun was setting when you and Alastor's shadow got back to the hotel. The lobby was almost empty except for Husk, who was polishing martini glasses by the bar. As soon as he saw the two of you enter the hotel, Husk leapt over the bar and rushed over to you.

"I don't know where the fuck the two of you have been, but you need to leave now before he finds out that your back," Husk whispered to you as he gripped your arm to turn you around towards the door.

"And you!" he said towards the shadow, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The shadow made a high-pitched whine as it stepped closer to you. You were about to ask Husk what he had meant when a loud voice boomed inside the hotel.

"Where are you?"

Husk's hand tightened around your arm as he started to pull you towards the door. You followed after him, paralysed by action, as a stone of fear got stuck in your throat. The shadow looked at you, then back at the stairs and then back at you again with anxious eyes.

Loud steps could be heard from the hallway above the staircase, and Alastor's shadow began to be dragged towards the stairs as if by an invincible force. It desperately dug its claws into the ground, and the shadow let out a wailing scream as it looked at you with big, pleading eyes.

Alastor was calling his shadow back to him.

The shadow continued to fight the force of its master's call, leaving deep claw marks on the floor, and, as if a gunshot had been fired at the room, the force wholly let go of the shadow. The shadow rushed back to you, where it clung to your body like a second skin.

"Get back here, you disgraceful thing!" Alastor could be heard shouting as a massive hand gripped the hallway doorframe and pulled itself forward. It was the hand of Alastor's most demonic form.

Beside you, Husk had begun to shake as his claws dug into your skin.

"You need to run. Now!" he tried to push you towards the door, but it was too late. From around the corner, Alastor stepped from the dark into the light, but as he stepped forward, he shrank in size. Still, he looked terrifying.

His eyes were a deep red with volume controllers as irises, hiding any emotions he may have had. His antlers had grown in size, sharp and imposing, making the sinner look almost regal as he sauntered down the stairs.

"Thank you, Husker." he said, his voice dripping in venom, "I can take over now."

Husk was about to protest loudly when he disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and you were left alone with the enraged sinner.

"What do you think you are doing?" Alastor snarled as you started to shake where you were standing. A small whine could be heard beside your neck as the shadow clung closer to you.

"I don't know..."

"I'm not talking to you!" Alastor's look silenced you but confused you for a second before you saw his eyes drop down to your neck, where the shadow hid.

"Come back here and stop resisting," Alastor snarled again and stepped towards you. The shadow gave away a low whine as it clung closer to your body, and you realised it didn't want to return. In a fit of temporary insanity, you placed a protective hand over the arms of the shadow around you and stepped away from the sinner.

"No!"

"What do you mean no? It's my shadow," asked Alastor as he looked back at you in confused rage.

"He doesn't want to be with you anymore," you snapped and turned your nose up. You stepped to the side to walk around the sinner, effectively walking away with his shadow, but as you walked past Alastor, his hand shot out, and he tried to grab your arm. But you were faster; with your other hand, you slept Alastors hand away from you and the shadow.

"Will you stop it! Don't you understand that we want nothing to do with you, so just leave us alone!"

With determined steps, you started walking over to the staircase to get as far away from the deer demon as possible. However, you didn't get far until you felt the shadow clung even more to you as it let out a pitiful sob. Its head had fallen over your shoulder as it looked up at you with longing eyes—a gaze it shouldn't be giving you since you had just saved it from its cruel master.

"What's the matter?" you asked it as you tried to caress its cheek, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something that you never thought you would see.

Without a smile and ears hanging low against his head, Alastor looked at you with the same miserable longing that the shadow looked at you with. And that's when you remember something your mother used to say to you when you were a child, a long time ago.

Our deepest desires, our most precious wishes and longings, hide in our shadows. Everything we want follows us within our shadows as the weights of our souls.

You wanted to kick yourself for being so foolish, for not understanding until now. Maybe a small part of you had always known, but it had been easy to ignore in your imaginary rivalry with the sinner. But a shadow never lies. Even the ones who can think and act on their own. They will always mirror their owner's heart's wishes and act upon them when the host won't take charge of getting what they desire.

"You're in love with me," you whispered. It was not a question but a statement—a statement that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity but not long enough.

“How? What? When?” you asked, desperate for answers.

Alastor walked hesitantly towards you, looked you deep into your eyes and did something you never thought he would do. He kissed your cheek.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm lips softly touched your cheek, and when he pulled away, you could still feel their presence against your skin. As if you were branded by their sweet touch.

"Come now," was the last thing he said to his shadow as he walked around you and back up the stairs. Alastor's shadow made a melancholic chirping noise before it let go of you and followed its master.

You were left alone in the big hotel lobby. Wishing that it was your lips Alastor had kissed and not your cheek.

PART 2.

I really hope it lived up to the expectations, but I loved writing it! It got a lot more angsty than I first intended...

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor x reader angst #hazbin hotel alastor x reador angst #hazbin hotel angst

1K notes · View notes

boofeine · 14 days ago

Text

complicated freak – lsk

pairing: dk x fem reader

genre: smut one shot

synopsis: you feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now; your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick cock.

warnings: mdni, fingering, dirty talk, roleplay (kinda), one single spank, cum, riding, mention of face riding, fighting dominance, descriptive, protected penetrative sex

song: baby said by maneskin / complicated freak by harry styles / ironically shhh! by viviz also came out :)

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Seokmin is a lot of things, but what he's most known for is his sweetness and kindness. That's what draws you in on first place. He's so welcoming, makes your heart flutter just from receiving his attention. You were done for, when you got yourself just a little bit way too into it, into him, the way butterflies come to your stomach when he gets shy on your presence.

It came as a surprise for you too, when he turned a completely different person between sheets. You have no idea in which point you got yourself in here, but it's definitely not your last. You got your body against his more times than you could admit, and crave it more than you think you should. The problem is that he's so soft, it makes you feel dirty for having this thoughts when he's not burried on your pussy.

You feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now. Your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick dick. He rests his back on the sofa, his spread legs on the floor not doing any good either as you stare at his side profile while he talks.

The outline of his nose making you remember how deliciously it pokes at your clit while he tongue fucks you, a rush of heat spreading on your body up to your cheeks as your core suddenly feel needy for his attention. Every time he looks up to the ceiling like he's thinking what he will say next, gathering his thoughts, your mind is wilding in how you want to climb up that couch and sit on his pretty face.

"What do you think?" Seokmin's voices echoes, making you blink at him, having not a clue what he's talking about as he stares back at you, waiting for some type of response.

"Hm? Sorry?" You tilt your head, not going unnoticed that you weren't paying attention, your heart dropping to a whole, feeling guilty.

"The movies on saturday? That is this one new movie I was talking about..." He starts again but the ache on your pussy is getting unbearable.

"Hum... Hum... Sounds good" You let out. Your hand shamelessly caressing his biceps, going down his arms as you slightly pull it to you. It's not innocently that the motion makes his soft fingers grease against your exposed thighs. You suppress a gasp, your mouth agape, his hands close enough to where you need him the most.

"Oh, sorry" He says, resting his hand on the side of your body instead, as you tug to his arm. Fuck! Why is he so sweet?

He starts talking about something else again. The same guilty creeping through you as you don't pay a single attention, your body going further as if he will be able to read the signs.

"Seokmin, baby..." You interrupt him mid word, his face moving to look at you, the pet name coming out as a surprise to him "I know you want to talk but my pussy is so fucking wet right now" You shamelessly confess as his eyes bulge.

"Oh-" It's all he's able to reply. Your hands that haven't left his arms, pulling it to your legs. His eyes following your motions and back to your face "You know I'm a little sad you weren't listening to me" He says, not true to his words.

"Seokmin... I-" You try.

"No, No" He cuts off immediately "I was saying something that I really wanted you to know but all you can think of it's my cock on your pussy" He mocks, his big hands gripping a hand full of your thighs this time.

"I'm sorry" You pouts and he giggles a little.

"You should be" He says, restraining his hands from your skin as he takes this to where you left it "So, as I was saying, there's this restaurant..."

You groan, your head going back as you get tired of waiting and being nice "Fuck, Seokmin! Shut up" You let out, your hands grabbing and guiding his hand to your pussy. He laughs, he fucking laughs at how desesparate you are. Pushing the skirt of your dress up to expose your clothed core, his fingers greasing over the material as you relax at his touch, your head going back, eyes shut at finally feeling something.

"They do have really good food" He says back about the damn restaurant to provoke you as you grunt, frustrated. He leans a little closer to your face, cupping your cunt through the thong "But don't worry, the only thing I can think of eating is you right now" He lowers his tone to whisper it to you.

"Good" You answer "Thought you'd never shut up" Your smart mouth takes over as he smirks.

His hand pulls your thong to the side, taking a long stroke at your folds as you mewl, a heavy breath getting out like it needed to. Your hips bulking to his hand and legs spreading almost instinctively.

"Shit, you really are wet" he responds. Seokmin gathers the slick up to your clit, massaging the muscle in small circles. the grip you have on his arm getting stronger each motion of his fingers. You're wet enough to hear the sounds of it as he goes down to enter you with his digits. Your nails dig to his skin, your head lowering as your forehead rests where his shoulders and arms meet. The gasps turning into moans as he fucks you. He moves slowly, watching you break.

"Seokmin, baby..." You say gripping his wrist this time. That fucking pet name again, he wont ever get used to it, his cock tightening on his pants. "Wait" you push him out, your cunt pulsating with the loss but just enough to get up and take your thong out and sit on his lap. He welcomes you like he always does, watching you undo his jeans to be met at the sight of his hardening length pressing on his boxers. But before you can even drink in the sight, he's back at pushing two fingers inside you. Your back arch when he curls them inside, getting on your sweet spot.

You moan out his name as he presses the spot continuously with the tip of his fingers. You can't help but roll your eyes, the knot forming on your stomach as an unimaginable amount of arousal slip out of your entrance. "Fuu- ah! Minnie... Not yet, please!" You beg as you feel your legs shake.

Like he's so obedient to you, he stops, restraining his hands as you squirm over him. "You made a show to have it, and now you're going back?" he spits out as you still try to calm down your breathing, eyes slowly opening.

"I want..." You try.

"What? Say it" he demands as his wet hands from your slick goes under his boxers, taking his cock out with a gasp of relieve. You stare at it, the way he spreads the wetness on his cockhead making you whine at the view.

"I want your cock... inside me" You plea as he starts to bump himself, letting out a groan.

"Of course you do" He says smartly with a smirk "Go get a condom on my wallet" He says. You reach for his pocket, knowing he came with anything else, his wallet soon found as you open it, the package on one of his spaces as you take it from it. You throw it somewhere beside you as you immediately start to open the condom. He hands his base, aligning it for you as his other hand digs to your hips, pulling you to him, watching you take over, pressing up on the plastic before sliding it down his length.

He holds you firmly as you take his base instead, guiding his head to your entrance when you get your body up to receive him. You press him inside, feeling the delicious stretch, your body threatening to give up while you slowly sit down on him. You can see his breathing pace fastening, his chest rising and falling, but you're no different, your head going down, your foreheads getting together as you can feel each others breath. You finally bottoms out, your body relaxing while he takes your mouth on his for the first time today. It's all too much, a whine coming out on his lips when his tongue asks for space. The kiss airy and needy as you make out.

When you feel the neediness again, already adjusted to his size, you start rolling your hips, low moans coming from him as he guides you with his hands on your waist. "Fuck!" he swears under his breath, feeling your walls pulsating around his cock. "Was this what you needed, hm? Was that all running on that head while I was talking?" He says, and you just moan, picking up your pace as if it was going to answer him. "The pretty heads, always the nastiest thoughts, isn't it?" But he isn't any different, he thinks. Those thoughts run just the same for him, too.

You are not answering in words but going faster on him. Until even this, It's not enough. Your hips going up just to sit back in. His head going back with a roll of his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock. His hands going back to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart. "Stopped me just to use my cock as your little fuck toy... so unpolite" He speaks again and you groans.

Your palms fastening to press against his lips as he yelps, but you can see the smirk from his eyes. "You don't ever shut up, do you?" You spit out, your thrusts going faster, the skin slapping sounds starting to fill the room "I guess next time I should take my first plan of sitting on your face. At least then you can talk between my legs if that's something you want so much. How does that sound?" You get closer to say those words, your hand prettily silencing him as you stare at his watery glistening eyes. You can feel the way he twitches inside you and the muffled moans coming out. You know he loves it.

You suddenly calm down your pace, turning it into firm deep, slow thrusts. The heat and pleasure building up as you push yourself to the edge. Your walls hugging him tightly as he starts to feel his balls tightening too. "Cum for me, baby. Come on... make it worth it" You talk him through it, his knuckles white from gripping your ass so hard, leaving red marks of his big hands on it.

It comes at a surprise when he bites the skin of your palm, your hands jumping out of him as you yelp "Fuck, Seokmin! Are you crazy!?" You scream, your cheeks turning red. He hands you in place, starting to fuck you instead, thrusts meeting up your hips. You moan, your hands driving its way to his hair so you can tug on something.

"You should learn to behave and talk nicely" He grunts out, the throaty voice and drool over his lips doesn't go unnoticed. Heat collecting around your bodies, both of you getting close to cumming. "Someone has to teach you a really good lesson" He says lastly, his palm arriving to your skin with one loud hard slap on your ass cheek. The skin tingles, your body going stiff and mouth agape, like you stopped breathing for a second, before you finally let it go. Your body shaking as you cum with a breathy moan. Your pussy clenching nonstop as he cums with a loud gasp right after you. His load emptying on the condom.

Both of you rolling your hips messily trying to ride off your highs, until you're tired and giving up. The wetness is thick enough to make him slide out unintentionally as you both whine from the loss.

You sit back on his thighs, staring while he takes off the condom from his flacid length, tying it up with a knot. His balls and inner thighs glistening with your own juices as you hince at the sight, "I'm sorry..." You say it smally, but he smiles.

"It's ok... I love it" He replies, pulling you to him. And for a moment, you two just stay there, tangled up on each other before gathering corage to get up and clean up the mess.

#was wannabelife #seventeen smut #fanfic #seventeen #dk #dk seventeen #svt headcanons #svt smut #svt scenarios #svt x reader #dk smut #dk scenarios #dk angst #dokyeom smut #seokmin x reader #dokyeom #seventeen x reader

517 notes · View notes

quin-ns · 1 month ago

Text

Twin Flame (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Word count: 11.6K

Summary: you play people just for the fun of it and they’re none the wiser. the only one who knows the real you is your best friend, rafe cameron, who you have the most fun toying with—and the feeling is mutual

Tags: (18+), toxic!rafe, toxic!reader (they match each others freak heavily), manipulative and mean!reader, violence, brief jj x reader, smidge of dubcon, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, biting, all that fun stuff and messy drama

A/N: writing toxic!reader was so fun actually. had this set pre/in season 1 in my mind so rafe isn’t fullll psycho yet. this is long ik but the plot was plotting and it’s worth it i swear

OBX masterlist + main masterlist

A lot of people would say Rafe wasn’t a great guy. Probably not even a good one. Hell, not even a decent one. But you didn’t care about any of that because, for some reason, Rafe Cameron was your best friend in the world, and you were his.

You didn’t have an exact reason for it, but everyone knew it was true. Sure, you had a few guesses. It could be because you had been Sarah’s friend first but picked him over her, and he needed that sort of validation. Maybe it was because you weren’t like his other friends, most of which you could only handle in small doses. Maybe it was because the two of you saw eye to eye on a lot of things. You looked at the world the same way as him and it was something neither of you had encountered before each other.

Or maybe it was because, even though people somewhat knew the real him, he was the only one close enough to know the real you, and he liked that.

The highs were high with Rafe for sure, but the lows were low. As much fun as the two of you had together, you would fight like words could cut and you were both going for the kill. It was because you really saw each other that you could exist in such a friendship and still return to one another. You understood the worst of each other in ways no one else could.

Whatever it was that drew him to you and kept him there, you didn’t really care. You were partners in crime so long you didn’t feel the urge to ask, and you were certain he felt the same way.

The ‘crime’ thing was literal today, which was lucky, because today was a good day between the two of you.

You were just coming off of an argument that led you to ignore him for two whole days. Then he showed up at your house with a brand new dress and an invite to a party. You’d already been invited to the same party, but the dress was a cute little black piece that was perfect for you.

Rafe was the only one of your friends who regularly bought you things, and even though you could afford them for yourself, you appreciated the thought and effort. And just like that, you accepted the bribe and forgave him. You took your time to get ready and he kept you company, catching up on the last two days as if nothing had happened. You joined him in his drug dealer, Barry’s, trailer as he bought supplies for the party.

You watched Rafe as he drove away from Barry’s with his jaw clenched. He must’ve felt you watching because it didn’t take him long to clue you in on why his mood had suddenly gone sour.

“I should’ve punched him,” Rafe said pointedly, throwing you a glance.

“He sells you coke, so suck it up,” you advised, fighting off a smirk as Rafe’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t care so I don’t see why it bothers you so much.”

Of course you got why it bothered him. Most of the time you didn’t bother to pretend around him the way you did in front of everyone else. He could easily decipher your lies and the fakeness in your tone when no one else could so why bother?

This time you were only pretending for your own amusement because Rafe was far too distracted by your interaction with Barry to really pay attention. You could see how much he regretted not forcing you to wait in the car.

It wasn’t even that bad. Barry whistled when you walked in behind Rafe, watching your hands tug down the edges of your little black dress as you entered his trailer.

“Where’d you find her and how do I get one?” Barry had said to him under his breath, although he had a hard time with volume control given that you heard clearly.

The comment set Rafe on edge. He was quick to exchange the money for drugs and hustle you out of the trailer and back into his truck, his hand on your shoulder guiding you the entire time.

“You don’t see why him saying some shit like that would bother me?” Rafe asked with a condescending tone to his voice, fully looking over at you as his truck rolled up to a red light.

Rafe wasn’t as complicated as you once thought he was. You learned his tells. The way he said it alone was enough, but the slight narrowness of his eyes told you he could go either way.

On one hand, you could push his buttons. It was easy for you to get the straight line of his mouth to turn to a frown and set him off. Sometimes it was amusing, watching him get angry. It was what you had done a couple days ago, but when he got angry he could get mean, and that led to the two day silent treatment. Tonight you were on your way to a party and that wasn’t the energy you were going for.

So there was the other hand, where you could reel him back in and get him to calm down before it was too late. Something like a sweet smile and an apology or a joke to lighten the mood would work on him.

You went with the latter given you had nothing to apologize for this time.

“Please, you’d trade me for five dollars if you really need the money,” you teased.

He hesitated for a second, like he was making up his mind. You gave him a little smile and watched Rafe’s shoulders untense. The light turned green and he faced forward again, but you could still see a similar expression appear on his face.

“Ten bucks at least, give me a little credit,” he threw back. “Twenty if I’m feeling sentimental.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “As if you ever feel sentimental.”

And just like that he was back to normal. You had the power to do that. It wasn’t a power just anyone had, controlling Rafe. Maybe “controlling” sounded a bit heavy-handed, but what else would you call it?

A few different people had told you that Rafe only seemed truly happy around you, and you figured that was true. Not many people could make him smile just because.

Conversation picked back up again, the two of you going back and forth until you were laughing like crazy. No one else had the privilege to see either of you like this, both you and Rafe grinning and rambling on.

You knew Rafe was in a better mood than before because he was speeding. He usually drove pretty fast, but it was always at a different level whenever he was really happy, or really pissed.

The hit of coke you each did at the next red light didn’t slow him down at all.

He had great speakers in his truck so blasting music was an elevated experience, and rolling the window down to let the wind whip through your hair only made it better.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe said in rapid succession, swatting at your thigh. You sat up with a start, not realizing you closed your eyes or that you had sunken into your seat. He pointed out the windshield at something up ahead, off to the side of the road. You doubted he’d noticed your brief zone-out. “You see that?”

You leaned forward and peered out the window, squinting to try and make out the figure clearly in the dark. “I think it’s a person,” you said. The closer you got, the more his headlights lit up the scene. “On a motorbike.”

“I think it’s JJ,” Rafe guessed. “He drives one of those, doesn’t he?”

You shrugged. You knew JJ—and his friends—but it wasn’t like you were friends. You only knew him because everyone in Kildare knew everyone. You didn’t concern yourself with Pogues the way Rafe did. While he would seek certain ones out to harass, you didn’t bother with anything to do with the Cut unless it directly affected you, which it hardly ever did.

That being said, when the person on the bike looked over his shoulder, it was clearly JJ. He wasn’t even wearing a helmet.

Your body was thrown as Rafe sharply jerked the wheel. Tires screeched against the pavement as the truck swerved up behind JJ as if Rafe were about to totally take him out. His truck was huge, it would be easy. Your gasp turned to a cackle as he yanked the wheel back the other way. You lunged across the truck and slammed your hand down on the horn, blaring it as Rafe let the truck swerve again.

Rafe let out a vicious laugh when JJ twisted the bike too fast in an attempt to avoid the truck and wiped out. In the side mirrors you saw he had veered into the grass. You guessed he’d skidded on the road first. You didn’t look back to see if he stood up, you were too busy watching Rafe with glee, a wicked smile plastered on your own face as he floored it down the street.

You’d been to Topper’s house on more than one occasion, and it was a party, so it wasn’t as if you were going to knock. You tugged at the skirt of your dress then barged inside, Rafe right at your back. Loud music, overlapping voices, and the smell of beer and weed filled your senses. Already energized, you moved through the crowded space with ease. You were in your element. People even parted to make way for you, but that could’ve been a perk of having Rafe looking like your bodyguard.

Rafe was here on business, not to get drunk and dance—your two favorite things about a party—but you didn’t mind sitting by his side on Topper’s couch as he offered a bump for free to draw people in and then negotiated a price for a line. The two of you usually snorted a quarter (sometimes half) of however much coke he bought, but the rest he used to try and make his money back.

Most people were uninteresting to you, but you liked to talk to them anyways. It reminded you how unimpressive everyone else your age was, which was an ego boost for sure—although, ego certainly wasn’t something you lacked to begin with.

Curiosity led you to get distracted sometimes. When you left Rafe’s side to get a drink from the kitchen you didn’t mean to be gone for long, but some guy with black hair in a crew cut and beer breath started challenging you to go against him in cup pong. You guessed he was someone’s relative or new in town because you didn’t recognize him. He boasted how he was the best—the current champion of the kitchen—and no one wanted to play against him anymore. He gave you this stupid cocky smile—not the kind of hot-but-aggravating cocky smile Rafe got when he was right about something—but the kind that made you want to ruin his life.

That would take too long, and it was energy you didn’t want to waste on him, so you played instead. You knew kicking his ass would be satisfying before you even took your first turn, and after, you got to confirm that it was. Ruining his winning streak would be enough.

Rafe taught you to play a few years ago and you only got better, but you weren’t going to thank him or anything. At this point you could probably beat him.

You left Crew Cut in the kitchen, defeated, and stumbled back to the living room. He got a few shots in so you had had a bit to drink, but you were still fully capable. Rafe would probably be annoyed at you for being gone so long, but you figured you could bat your lashes and apologize and he’d forgive you. And if not you’d blame it on Crew Cut for keeping you hostage playing cup pong and Rafe would get his knuckles bloody. Either way, you were sitting pretty.

Except, when you spotted him on the couch, you immediately saw that no, you weren’t. Spite flared in your gut at the sight of Rafe talking to some girl. She had stubby legs sticking out of a short white dress and brown hair that might’ve been pretty if it suited her. And if she brushed it properly. You wracked your memory to put a name to the face, and by the time you had stomped your way over to them, you remembered.

You forced a grin. “Hey, Bella.”

She looked up at you and gave you a smile that felt a little too sweet. “It’s Bethany,” she corrected. Eh, you were close enough. “And hey, Y/N. I didn’t know you were here.”

You wanted to glare at her, to figure out if that was some kind of insult, but you weren’t going to let her get to you that easy.

“Well, I am, and I was sitting there, so.” You shrugged, making the message so get up clear.

“Relax,” Rafe chimed in. Your eyes found him and you knew he could see past your mask. “You did get up.”

You tilted your head. There was a sourness to his voice that only you seemed to pick up on. You flicked your eyes to Bethany, who had this newly satisfied expression on her average face, then back to Rafe.

“Yeah, and it’s not like you own the couch, so,” Bethany commented, emboldened by what she assumed was Rafe backing her up. But no, it wasn’t that. He was upset, you could tell, and he was using her to bother you.

“I just went to the kitchen to get a drink,” you explained carefully.

“You were gone for a while.” Rafe's voice was too even, too controlled.

For someone who was just your best friend, Rafe was more possessive over you than any boyfriend you’d ever had. It went both ways. He was yours just as much as you were his, and apparently Bethany hadn’t gotten the memo.

“You move your feet, you lose your seat,” Bethany piped up with this obnoxious sing-song tone. “Sorry.”

You cringed at the phrase and this time let your disgust show. “What are you, four? Grow up.”

She scoffed and looked at Rafe, seeking some kind of defense, but when he finally took his eyes off you it wasn’t to look at her. His focus fell to something past you. His jaw clenched.

“Rafe,” Bethany barked at him, demanding attention. “Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?”

You almost laughed. Who did she think she was? Rafe’s priority list was short, but it was clear who was at the top and who wasn’t even on it.

“If you went to the kitchen for a drink then where is it?”

“I drank it,” you snarked.

Rafe made a noise that said he didn’t believe you. Warmth seeped into the skin on the back of your thigh just above your knee as Rafe’s hand made contact. His thumb rubbed back and forth, but neither of you acknowledged it. You got an inkling, though, and looked over your shoulder. Sure enough, you spotted Crew Cut. He was right in Rafe’s eyeline and yep, he smiled at you. What a moron.

Rafe must’ve seen the two of you playing cup pong. You were surprised by that. Not that he’d seen, but that he had gone back to sit down instead of making his presence known sooner. You looked back at Bethany, smirking with the knowledge that you’d been right all along. He thought he could make you jealous.

Bethany noticed his hand placement, but it wasn’t like Rafe was trying to hide it. She scoffed and stood, finally understanding her place.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Upright she wasn’t as short as you thought, but still shorter than you, even in her heels. “So are you,” she spat at you, squaring her shoulders as if she was making some grand stand against you. “You deserve each other.”

This time you did laugh. Right in her face. How could you not?

“Calm down, you Shih Tzu.” Bethany made a sound of offense. “Go whine at someone else’s feet,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand.

The suddenness of the impact almost knocked you back. She was tiny so it wasn’t like your head was spinning from the punch. It more so caught you off guard than anything else. You did have to give her a bit of credit for that. Your nose throbbed as you brought your head back forward.

Bethany’s face was scrunched up and tomato red. The sight amused you, even as blood began to trickle from your nostrils.

“I don’t know why anyone ever said you were nice,” she sneered. If she wasn’t such an annoying little bitch you might’ve been impressed. “You wanna say anything else?

That was true, you were the nice one. That’s what made you and Rafe such a fascinating duo to the people who either knew or knew of you.

Of course, their assumptions weren’t true, but they didn’t need to know that. You didn’t have a real reason to pretend, you just did. But sometimes you didn’t bother—certain people on special occasions got the chance to meet the real Y/N.

A million lines crossed your mind from snarky remarks to scathing insults. Oh yeah, you had plenty to say.

Instead you inhaled deeply, sucking the blood back through your nose. It trickled back down your throat and once it mixed with enough saliva you spat it right in Bethany’s face. Gross, yes, but effective.

Bethany screamed. That garnered an audience. The spitty, bloody mess dripped from her face down the front of her dress. Her white dress. You smiled, not caring that blood caked your teeth. You could taste it. Who wore a white dress to a party, anyway?

Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Rafe. He’d already let his hand fall from your body. The expression on his face was a mix between annoyance from before and current amusement.

Bethany lunged at you, hands out like she was going to try and scratch you or something. She didn’t get a chance because some other girl, who you assumed must’ve been a friend, came up behind her and pulled her back. Bethany made a noise of frustration as her friend dragged her away, but she let the other girl do it anyway.

“Hey! Are you okay?” A hand landed on your shoulder and you turned. Crew Cut had wide eyes, likely having witnessed the scene.

You became aware of all the people staring at you in that moment and internally sighed.

You sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your hand, then flinched on purpose.

“Ow,” you whined. His hands rested on both of your arms as he encouraged you to look at him. “I think it’s broken,” you whimpered loud enough for surrounding people to hear. Sounds of pity filled in around you and people started to approach. Clearly they’d all only witnessed the second half of your interaction with Bethany, which really worked in your favor.

“That girl is crazy,” some girl nearby said. “You didn’t even do anything.”

“Do you need a doctor?” someone else asked.

Tears filled your eyes. “I think so,” you croaked out to no one in particular.

A hand latched onto your bicep and pulled you away from Crew Cut and the small crowd you’d acquired.

“I’ve got her,” Rafe said firmly as he held you at his side. People started to mutter. “Come on, you’ll be okay.”

The way he said it told you he knew exactly what you were doing. Rafe knew how much you liked being the center of attention.

It didn’t stop you from milking it while you could.

“It’s not okay,” you complained. “She hit me! You saw her, Rafe!”

He leaned down to your ear, his pace quickening. “I’m not gonna fall for your shit so drop it,” he hissed.

“I don’t know if I need to go to the hospital,” you said loudly, covering for him. You put an extra touch of gratefulness to your voice. “But if you think I need to then we’ll go.”

You sniffled again, gingerly touching your nose as you walked alongside him, absorbing all the worried and supportive comments you got on your way.

They were all so busy staring at you that you doubted they could see how pissed Rafe was. Mission accomplished. He had a hard time controlling his face. They probably didn’t notice the other injury you were sustaining, either, as Rafe dug his fingers into the flesh of your arm, gripping tight as he dragged you out the door.

Rafe slowed down once you were out of the house, but still held your arm. All the action was inside so he spoke freely.

“Is your nose actually broken?”

You shook your head confidently, dropping the act from inside. “Hurts a little but it’s fine. She didn’t hit that hard, weak arms I’m guessing. Plus I always got nose bleeds easily as a kid so it looks worse than it is.”

The ease in which you explained made Rafe shake his head. You wiped your teary eyes with the back of your hand to clear up your vision as Rafe led the both of you to his truck.

“Are those even real?” he questioned, but the snark in his voice said he already knew the answer.

“No.”

If he was in a good mood, Rafe would’ve been impressed. But, he was in a bad mood, so you were faced with annoyance and anger instead.

“You’re so screwed up.”

You scoffed. “Takes one to know one,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear. “Ow!” you shrieked as Rafe applied pressure, squeezing down on your arm. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“Why do you think you can lie to me?” he snapped back.

You yanked yourself free from his hold. You’d arrived at the truck without realizing. Likely the reason he let you separate yourself—you’d end up going with him anyway.

“I told you the truth, my nose is fine. Yeah, I was faking for attention, who the fuck cares?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “That bitch still hit me. I should get a restraining order.” Rafe rolled his eyes at the dramatic yet empty threat.

Okay, so you weren’t actually going to do that, but he could show a little sympathy, couldn’t he?

“Thanks for standing back and doing nothing, by the way,” you added when he didn’t reply right away.

That provoked a reaction you wanted. Rafe took a step forward. “I’m talking about you disappearing.” Oh, yeah. “You say you’re going to get a drink, then you’re gone forever and so like a good friend I go to find you. To make sure you're okay. And then what do I see?” Rafe’s voice continued to rise with each word. “You, hanging out with some asshole!”

“What about you?” you shot back. “I go back to you and some random girl is sitting in my spot, and then you act like you can’t be bothered to back me up when she goes psycho!”

“Are you pissed because she was in your spot or jealous because she was next to me?”

“Jealous? Me?” A scoff escaped you at the accusation. Was he insane? “You have a mental breakdown because I play one dumb drinking game with a guy I don’t even care enough to learn the name of but sure, Rafe, I’m the jealous one.”

“I’m not the one who was picking fights,” he reminded, stepping closer.

“Yeah, well, she was a bitch.”

Rafe was so close he could probably hear your heart skip a beat. “So are you.”

The slap of your hand against his cheek echoed through the night air.

Your mouth fell open a little, anger melting into shock. You’d never hit Rafe before, but he was getting in your face and being a dick and you just really had to urge to. It felt long overdue, honestly. Sure, you could argue just as ruthlessly as he could, but he’d only ever gotten physical with you, not the other way around. It was never hitting, never, ever hitting, but this wouldn’t be the first time he left bruises on your arm.

The second you met him on his level, he took it further.

The air was knocked from your lungs when your chest hit the passenger door of his truck. Rafe pressed himself against your back, keeping you trapped as he heaved into your ear, “Now what made you think that would be smart?”

“Only one of us is smart and it’s definitely not you.” The retort was instinctual. Your quick replies amused Rafe most of the time, but that wasn’t the case at the moment.

“You’re so mean tonight,” he said, voice like a warning. “First you abandon me, then you make a scene, and now you’re causing problems again. I sold the rest of the coke but I might have a bump left.” God, he could be so patronizing. It was even more irritating, which was exactly what he was going for when he added, “I think you need to lighten up.”

“Fuck you,” you growled out, squirming against his hold. This was unknown territory. “Stop being a dick and let me go. This isn’t funny.”

He kept you pinned with his body, it didn’t matter that you tried to push yourself back with your palms against the car, he was solid. When his hands rose to pin each of your wrists to the window you were left completely at his mercy.

Rafe leaned down a little, his lips by your ear. Your whole body shuddered at the tickle of his breath as he whispered, “I’m not trying to be funny.” Your teeth clenched. “Are you going to behave yourself so we can go or do I need to wait? I’ve got all night.”

There was a shakiness that tangled itself into his last few words. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated when Rafe adjusted his stance.

You didn’t let him see the smirk that crossed your face. He was aroused, you could feel him pressing against you. You wanted to say something so bad because it was obvious it was for you. Something witty, something mean, something flirty—just something. But instead you closed your mouth and let your body do the talking.

You rocked your hips back slightly. Enough to let him know you felt it, but not enough to create friction. Rafe reacted how you thought he might. His hands around your wrists tightened as he nudged himself closer to you. He let out a grunt as his cock pressed more against your ass.

Your entire demeanor shifted the second you understood you had the upper hand.

“Rafe,” you said, making your voice sound all breathless. You paired the gasp of his name with rolling your hips back shamelessly.

Rafe grunted in your ear. His hips shoved forward, almost out of his control. Heat flooded your body at the feel of him. The only barrier was your clothes and those could be easily removed.

You rolled your hips again with a giggle.

“You think you’re funny?” he growled into your ear.

You nearly choked on your own tongue. You’d always found Rafe attractive but this whole scenario just put it on another level. You pressed your thighs together to control yourself, but a shaky breath managed to escape. You were having a hard time deciphering what was authentic and what was just for fun.

One of his hands released your wrist in favor of resting around your neck. Not quite squeezing, just holding. The pressure was just enough to let you know it was there and now you were really losing your grip on this whole thing. You shivered against him, your body going rogue. So much for being in control.

Rafe leaned in even closer, his lips pressed right next to your ear as he warned, “if you don’t stop that I’m gonna have to fuck you right here.”

You swallowed hard. No words came to mind.

You and Rafe had never crossed the line in all your years of friendship, which surprised a lot of people. Sometimes you wondered about it, like now. How could you not? He was hot and so were you, and you spent nearly all your time together. Rafe understood you even when it came back to bite you. There was something about him not just toeing the line but stepping fully over it with those words that thrilled you.

You could give in. You wanted to give in because honestly the fact that you never even kissed him, let alone fucked him, was confusing to you now. It would only add another layer to the messy thing you called your friendship, but it didn’t seem like a bad idea. Not with his hand on your neck and his lips at your ear and his cock throbbing against you.

A wicked idea appeared in your head. One fueled by pettiness and your desire for control that you’d forgotten for a moment, but not forever.

Rafe had you caged but not fully trapped. You’d stopped fighting against him, so it wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been to twist your way free from his hold.

“Then let’s go,” you said, not facing him because you’d definitely break if you did.

You yanked open the passenger door and climbed into the truck. Once it shut you looked out the window and found him staring back. Confused, frustrated, and stunned. You smirked to yourself.

Rafe got it together and crossed to the driver's side. He got in without a word. His jaw was clenched too tight. His hand fell to his lap, not even hiding the fact that he was adjusting himself before starting up the truck.

The drive was so quiet it made you want to laugh. Rafe kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like he wasn’t sure whether to keep ignoring you or pounce on you. That was just the way you wanted it for now. Now that you knew you were something he wanted, you couldn’t make things easy for him.

You were pretty proud of yourself, honestly. Knowing you’d worked him up like this. It was his turn to suffer a little. Serves him right for earlier. You did get punched after all and he didn’t defend you the way he should’ve.

When he stopped in front of your house all you got was a sharp, “Goodnight.”

“Dream about me,” you said before you slid out and shut the truck door.

Even though you had to ice your nose, you went to bed with a smile on your face that night. Rafe probably went home and took matters into his own hands, pun intended, and you’d bet anything you were on his mind while he did.

You saw him the very next day at the country club. You caught a ride with Topper for the simple reason you knew it would get under Rafe’s skin that you didn’t ask him by default like usual.

Of course you were right. He had a certain intensity to him when he arrived at your usual table and found you and Topper too wrapped up in conversation to notice him. You did notice him, though. You just didn’t show it.

“Hey, man,” Topper greeted him finally, still chuckling from something you had said. You turned your head to acknowledge Rafe but didn’t say a word.

Usually, Rafe would sit across from you. It just made the most sense since the two of you would often get caught up in your own conversations. Topper had even opted for a seat next to the one right across from you because of this.

Instead of taking his usual spot, Rafe dragged out the chair right beside you and sat down. He didn’t acknowledge you either. Topper’s eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing something but not willing to comment on it aloud.

So, he was still pissed about yesterday. Not that it surprised you or anything. Just a very obvious observation.

Soon enough Kelce showed and it made it easier to not comment on what was going on between you and Rafe.

“How’s your nose?” Kelce asked. He ended up across from you since Rafe left that seat open.

You pressed your fingers gingerly to the bridge. “It’s a little sore but I’m okay.”

“Why’d she even hit you?” Kelce wondered.

“Y/N didn’t do anything,” Topper jumped in to defend you. Kelce didn’t necessarily have an accusing tone to his voice, but the question was enough to garner backup. “That chick was crazy.”

You fought to keep the smugness out of your smile. Most boys were easy—like Topper. When he picked you up and asked how you were feeling, you sniffled and told him you didn’t understand what happened. He told you it wasn’t your fault. Even though he’d been nowhere nearby when it happened, he sure sounded confident.

Kelce chuckled a bit. “I heard you spit blood in her face. That’s pretty wicked, Y/N. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

These two were more Rafe’s friends than your own, but you still saw them a decent amount. Enough that you had infiltrated their little trio—but you weren’t ’one of the guys’. You found girls who went out of their way to act like that annoying. You got along fine with each of them, but they weren’t the type of friends you’d hang out with without Rafe around.

Speaking of Rafe, he’d been pretty quiet since he arrived. It was the kind of quiet he got when he was agitated, but hadn’t quite reached that tipping point for today.

Just when you thought he’d be some kind of mute the rest of lunch, he made a sort of scoffing noise after Kelce’s comment.

“Well, then you don’t know her,” Rafe replied over the brim of his glass before taking a drink.

You shot him a glare. God, he was petty.

You looked at Topper and Kelce and forced a giggle. A really girly one for extra measure.

“Someone’s grumpy today,” you said in a loud whisper. The two guys smirked to themselves when you dramatically turned to Rafe. “What’s wrong? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” You faked a pout when you really wanted to grin. “Any weird dreams?”

Rafe faced you. He remembered your comment. One of your favorite pastimes was screwing with him just because you could.

“I slept just fine,” Rafe answered smoothly. He tilted his head a little. You narrowed your eyes. There was a look of mischief in his. “What about you?”

You nearly jumped when his hand landed on your bare thigh. The seats at the table were close enough he didn’t have to noticeably shift to make contact. Rafe raised his brows, letting his fingers kneed into your supple skin. Maybe you should’ve worn pants.

You bit your lip before turning it to a smile. “Same here.”

“Nothing keeping you up at night?” Rafe wondered less than innocently.

You shook your head. “Nope.”

He hummed. His hand slid further up your leg. “Nothing worth thinking about?”

So badly you wanted to say something snarky like, “just because you went home and got off to the thought of me doesn’t mean I returned the favor,” but that seemed like a bit much with Topper and Kelce right across the table. They didn’t get to know how clever you could be.

Speaking of the other boys, you had almost forgotten about them during your stare-down with Rafe.

“Are you guys going to the kegger at the Boneyard tonight?” Topper wondered, breaking the tension you and Rafe had created.

Rafe looked away first. “It’s gonna be overrun with Pogues,” he dismissed.

Just because of that you said, “I’m going.” Rafe threw you a glance. “What? The Boneyard is like… middle ground. There’s peace and there’s free alcohol.”

The second part was true, but the first? It depended on the night and what drama was currently going on. Some nights everyone just hung out and got drunk and had fun, and other nights there were fights that broke out. It was really just a toss of the coin.

“If you don’t go I won’t have a ride,” you told Rafe, but before he could open his mouth, you cheerfully turned to Topper. “If you’re going do you think you could give me a ride? This morning was fun, we could keep the karoke going.”

Topper blushed a little while you beamed at him. You’d gotten him to sing along to some pop songs that played on the radio—not exactly ‘karaoke’ but it had the intended effect.

No sooner than you asked was Rafe saying, “I’m going.” There was a bite to his tone that had Topper looking a little lost. Rafe’s fingertips pressed into your skin. “I didn’t say I wasn’t. I’ll give you a ride, it’s no problem.”

It was a problem, that was the point.

“Hello, gentlemen!” A waitress appeared with a big smile and too much pep in her step. You gave her a look that had her swallowing. “And lady. What can I get for you all?”

Rafe flashed her that stupid charming smile of his. The one he gave when he wanted something.

You wanted to gag when he started flirting with her, but you kept it in. It was embarrassing, honestly, for him. You wanted to smack him and tell him to stop making a fool of himself, and then you wanted to do the same to the waitress when she let out a snorty little laugh. Whatever he said wasn’t that funny, and laughing wasn’t going to get her a bigger tip.

While he was flirting and you were seething, Rafe’s hand stayed on your thigh. He rubbed little circles with his thumb and it told you where his mind really was.

When the waitress disappeared, you unclenched your jaw, which you hadn’t realized you’d done, but you didn’t speak right away. Rafe started a conversation with the guys and all you did for now was listen.

Rafe slid his hand further up, talking to them as if his fingers weren’t creeping towards your center. A thrill shot through you at the idea because all this with Rafe was new territory. The warmth in your face and your core told you to let him continue just to see what would happen—then your ego, your desire to win, took over.

You crossed your legs, trapping his hand. Sure, he couldn’t pull it away, but he also couldn’t move it closer. You chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when Rafe’s voice faltered while talking.

“You good?” you asked casually, as if you’d been up to nothing but listening.

Rafe recovered quickly. He flexed his hand a little and you squeezed it between your thighs. If he really wanted to he could probably yank himself free, but he didn’t try. He also couldn’t get any closer towards his goal. He let you have your minor win, which in all honesty it wasn’t that much of a loss to him so he could live with it, but at least you had some bit of control again.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked. You shrugged, and then he went on talking again.

When the waitress returned he hardly acknowledged her, which she looked a little miffed by, but he couldn't be bothered to care about her.

This was more of a draw when it came down to it, but you could live with that—for now.

You wore your lucky pink bikini with a pair of jeans shorts over it for the kegger.

True to his word Rafe picked you up and the two of you rode together to the Boneyard. Conversation was light, both of you playing defense, not wanting to show your hand. For as much as he was eyeing you he didn’t make a move. The topics were unimportant, so much so you had already forgotten what you’d said by the time you got to the beach.

As you walked towards the shore with Rafe at your side, you admitted to yourself you didn’t exactly have a game plan. You were determined to win this little feud, but how to do that? You didn’t have that worked out. You were still bitter about the fact he hadn’t defended you, and now the whole thing with the waitress was sitting on top of that. You had to get him back and get him good—something that would make him never forget who had the power between the two of you.

And if it scared him enough to make him never flirt with another girl again? Well, you wouldn’t be opposed to hearing him out if he had any ideas for alternatives.

You could see yourself being with Rafe. You really could. Not the way that most girls could, not just because he was handsome, and rich, and charming if he put in the effort. All those things were definitely a plus, but they didn’t understand him the way you did, and he’d never bother to understand them the way he understood you.

Even if your whole night was dedicated to winning against him, when it came down to it, you were equals. That’s what made him such a challenge, and the challenge is what made him so exciting. It was why you could drive each other to the brink of insanity one night and then hang out and laugh together the next.

The thought of a truce entered your mind. Rafe’s arm kept brushing against yours as the two of you joined the party. He looked good in the shirt he’d picked out, and you noticed he was wearing the cologne you liked. He’d been at your house right on time and had gotten out to open the passenger side door for you.

“Rafe?” you said, but evidently not loud enough.

Before you could continue he said, “I’ll be back,” and disappeared off towards the keg without a further word. Not even a glance back.

You shut your mouth and frowned. Would he even be back? You let out a huff.

It didn’t matter, you weren’t going to stand around waiting for him. You couldn’t let him think that was something he could just do. Make you wait around for him. What a dick. You felt like an idiot for even letting the word ‘truce’ enter your mind.

You looked around a little aimlessly. You weren’t about to go join Rafe and your other friends—you weren’t some follower. Your eyes wandered the scattered crowds until they landed on someone that brought a grin to your face.

Go big or go home.

He was standing practically by himself at the least populated keg. You smiled to yourself as you watched the blond fill his red solo cup with beer, chug it, then immediately refill it without so much as setting down the hose.

“Hey,” you said once you’d reached speaking distance. “Don’t you usually have a group of friends you hang with? They didn’t abandon you, did they?”

JJ looked a little surprised at your presence, but when your words registered he chuckled.

“If you wanna get technical then I abandoned them,” he replied coolly.

He nodded his head towards the water and sure enough, John B and Pope were standing in a group talking. No sign of your sort of ex friend, Kiara. You weren’t besties with her the way she and Sarah had been, but you also didn’t turn around and hate on her the way Sarah had. Things had always been a little off with you and the oldest Cameron girl ever since you and Rafe became the duo that you were, so her opinion wasn’t all that defining to you the way it was to others, so Kie wasn’t so bad in your books, but you weren’t still hanging with her either. You hardly thought of her at all to tell the truth.

“What about you?” JJ raised a brow.

“All alone tonight I guess.” You sighed. JJ didn’t say anything for a moment, regarding you. You cast your eyes down to his leg and gasped. “That looks awful! Are you okay?”

There was a huge scrape on his knee with some bruising around it. You knew exactly what, well who had caused it.

JJ didn’t need to know you were in the passenger seat, or that you hadn’t given him a second thought until now.

You looked at his right arm. Gently you reached out to grab it, avoiding the freshly damaged skin. He looked taken aback, likely not expecting the softness or concern from you.

“JJ…” you continued sympathetically, tenderly brushing over the area next to the injury. “What happened?”

His cup crinkled in his fist as his body tensed. He pulled his arm from your grasp and you frowned at him. He took a sip from his drink, watching you over the rim of his cup.

He lowered it after a long drink. “Got ran off the road by that asshole you hang out with,” he finally replied, casting his eyes away.

You shook your head shamefully. “Rafe is an asshole,” you said. There was nothing disingenuous about those words at least.

JJ wasn’t sure whether to frown or laugh.

“Have you and I ever had a full conversation before?”

You smiled at the way he vocalized the first thought that came to his brain. You shook your head.

“Not a full one I don’t think. Definitely not one on one.” You paused. “We could change that, though.”

JJ’s demeanor shifted, relaxing a bit. As if it were some kind of test, he refilled his solo cup to the brim, then extended it out to you.

You weren’t one to fail a test. You accepted it with a smile and took a gulp. JJ was grinning by the time you finished with a noise of satisfaction.

“Alright, maybe I didn’t have you figured out after all,” JJ decided, raising his hands in a little surrender like you’d caught him.

“Guess not,” you agreed.

You found yourself sitting across from him right in the sand. It hadn’t bothered him so you didn’t let it seem like it bothered you. It was easier said than done with the little grains digging in and you knew they’d be stuck to you all night, but you weren’t going to start seeming like the kind of girl who complained.

JJ was fun and carefree, so you were fun and carefree. You tapped into that side of yourself and amplified it. You tried to keep some reality in whatever performance you were putting on.

“You shouldn’t itch that,” you warned. JJ had scratched at the scab on his forearm yet again. “It’ll scar worse if you irritate it.”

“I know how scars work, thanks, doc.” It was sarcastic but it wasn’t mean, which threw you off. “It’s just annoying.” He extended his leg and looked down at it. “And definitely fucked for a few weeks. Looks worse than it is, though.”

“It’s not so bad,” you offered. “And if you don’t scratch I’m sure it’ll heal just fine.” A playful smirk wandered onto your lips. “But I think it makes you look kinda tough, y’know?”

“Tough, huh?”

“I mean, not that you need it or anything.” The shy laugh that left you sounded so natural. God, you were good. “Sorry, that was weird. I just—it’ll heal, but until it does, don't worry about how it looks, is what I’m trying to say.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks.” JJ was smiling, clearly relishing in his perceived victory of managing to fluster you in so few words. “I don’t get how a sweet girl like you can hang out with a guy like Rafe.”

If only he knew.

You swallowed and shrugged. You turned your eyes down. “I don’t know either, sometimes.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” JJ said. He moved then. You heard him. By the time you looked up, the blond was sitting by your side. He gave you a lopsided smile. “That’s nothing against you, it’s just…”

“Rafe’s an asshole?” you supplied. “We already established that, remember?” You let your voice waver just enough that JJ felt a little guilty, but also have enough humor that he knew he could fix it.

“You’re a great girl, and I’m guessing you know how I feel about Kooks. So I’m I’m not saying that lightly, alright?” JJ began playfully. You met his eyes and smiled softly. “Why do you put up with him?”

He wanted to save you. How funny.

“I… I don’t want to talk about Rafe. I wanna keep talking about you. What have you been up to this summer?”

That got him talking again. It was easier that way. You could just react; smile, nod along, make little noises or mutter a few words.

He was in the middle of yet another surfing story from the other week when you put your head on his shoulder. JJ didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around you.

If Rafe could see you now.

It’s not that you cared where he was, or what he was doing, or who he was doing it with, but you knew he’d care what you were up to. He’d care when he found out only after the fact where you were directing your night with JJ, one of the good for nothing Pogues that he loathed.

What would he say when he found out you invited JJ Maybank into your bed when all he got was a hand on your thigh for a few minutes under a table? That would show him.

Actually, more than that, it would drive him crazy. Letting you know he wanted you, and then continuing to play games was probably the stupidest thing Rafe Cameron could’ve ever done. If it was a game you were going to win.

Who cared if it sent him over the edge? You sure didn’t.

A gust of ocean air came at the right time. You shivered dramatically and JJ frowned at you, pausing mid sentence to ask if you had a jacket. He didn’t have one to offer. That worked out just fine for you because you had an offer of your own. One you were certain he wasn’t going to turn down.

“Actually, would you mind giving me a ride back to my place? My friend kind of ditched me,” you asked politely. JJ, ever the gentleman, masked his disappointment and agreed. He got to his feet and offered a hand. “And if you want, you could stay and, I don’t know, hang out…”

JJ brows rose. “Hang out?” he parroted back to you.

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah. Hang out.” You brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. A grin spread across his face. “That cool with you?”

“Lead the way,” he encouraged, energy quickly returning.

You reached for his hand and he let you take it.

“You’re driving, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll lead the way.”

You laughed with him, giving his hand a little squeeze.

To be fair, JJ was very attractive. And he was not so bad to talk to. He didn’t even give you shit for being a Kook, which you had expected he would. He’d only commented on your friendship with Rafe but you’d played into that well. You’d enjoyed yourself with him. On another occasion if he had approached you, you’d probably indulge him at least for a while. Maybe even sleep with him like you were planning to now. You’d heard the rumors about him and so you were pretty confident you’d have fun.

Although, the real fun would start after, when you got to throw it in Rafe’s face and watch him lose it.

There was only one problem with your plan. Rafe spotted you before you could leave.

“Y/N!” Rafe called. You turned and so did JJ. JJ clutched your hand tighter as Rafe approached. If looks could kill, you and JJ would both be dead. You smirked to yourself. You couldn’t help it. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Back off, Rafe.” JJ was surprised but he still managed to sound threatening. He probably didn’t think Rafe was even here since you’d failed to mention it. “You don’t own her.”

Poor, sweet, dumb, JJ.

Any other disagreement, any other issue, Rafe might’ve gone along with the back and forth for a minute. Not when it came to you.

JJ had no time to dodge before Rafe was slamming his fist into his face. You grit your teeth. Your nose twitched. Now that was a real punch. Rafe quickly followed up with another right to JJ’s stomach.

JJ fell to the ground with a grunt. You managed to drop his hand just in time. Rafe was on top of JJ in an instant, pummeling him. It was dark, but you could smell blood mixing with the scent of the sea. The sound of Rafe’s fists cracked against JJ’s face told you there’d be bruises.

JJ managed to get out from beneath him, but Rafe wasn’t about to back off. It became an all out brawl. Over you, of all things. Wasn’t that romantic? You giggled to yourself when you had to step back because JJ threw Rafe off of him. You watched with shallow, excited breaths when Rafe got back to his feet and charged.

“Hey!” someone screamed from a distance. You didn’t recognize the voice, but when you turned your head, you saw a group of partygoers approaching. “Knock it off!”

You rolled your eyes. You cleared your throat. The group was getting closer so you let loose.

“Guys! Stop it, please!” you shrieked, as if you had been begging this entire time. “Stop!”

A hand landed on your shoulder.

“Stand back, Y/N,” Topper said, blocking you with his body.

“They won’t stop,” you cried pathetically. “Someone is going to get seriously hurt!”

Topper registered your concern and then took it upon himself to intervene. John B joined him. He’d come out of nowhere. The group that had gathered around the fight had grown within seconds. Some were yelling at them to quit while others clapped and shouted encouragement.

John B pried JJ away and Topper got ahold of Rafe. JJ tried to run back at Rafe but then Pope got in front of him. You didn’t hear what he said to the blond but JJ backed down. He looked at you, still restrained by his friends after fighting for your honor. You spotted a black eye forming and a busted lip. It was pretty hot.

“Rafe, man—“

“Get your hands off me,” Rafe snapped at Topper like something feral. He got your attention without even asking. You met his gaze and he looked… well, crazy. You don’t think that would come until later. “Y/N,” he muttered your name as he approached you. “We’re leaving.”

Rafe didn’t wait for you to respond. His hand snapped out, gripping your bicep and dragging you along behind him.

You nearly stumbled over your feet from the force. Behind you there were protests, and Topper even began to follow, so you had no choice.

“It’s fine,” you called back to him. “I’m going with him.” You were sure JJ heard and for the first time in a long, long while you felt a small twinge of guilt.

It didn’t last long when Rafe shoved you against the side of his truck. He ripped open the passenger side door. The wild look in his eyes almost scared you. Almost.

“Get in.”

You obeyed. He hardly left you time to scramble in before he was slamming the door shut behind you. You watched Rafe as if he were some kind of predator, analyzing his movements as he stalked to the driver’s side and climbed in next to you.

You weren’t going to be the first one to speak. Rafe was speeding like there was no such thing as a limit. The only move you made was to buckle your seatbelt. It took a long few minutes before Rafe finally spoke.

“I told you I’d be back,” he finally grit out.

“You didn’t notice I was gone until I was leaving,” you shot back.

Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I was looking for you.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped. “You didn’t give a damn where I was until I was leaving with JJ—“

Rafe slammed on the break. Your whole body jolted. The seat belt tightened against you and your head hit the head rest. Before you could scream at him your vision cleared and you realized you were in front of your house.

“Don’t say his name.” The way Rafe said it made him seem dangerous.

You looked at him, eyes wide, gauging what to do next. This was the most terrified you had ever been of him, and yet…

“Your cheek is cut,” you pointed out, voice as steady as you could make it. JJ wore rings. You bet it hurt. “Come in and let me clean it.”

You didn’t leave room for debate. You and Rafe watched one another with caution, regarding the other as a threat.

In a way you were both right.

You got out of the truck first. You made it to your door, knowing Rafe was right behind you.

You went through the motions almost robotically as you took him into the bathroom. You turned on the light and made him sit on the edge of the tub. The first aid kit was in the cabinet and you found everything you needed right inside.

For knowing you had caused all of this, you weren’t exactly sure what to do now. Which was odd, because you always seemed to figure out the next step one way or another, but right now, cleaning Rafe’s cheek with an alcohol wipe, watching his jaw tense with the stinging pain, you were unsure how to proceed.

What do you do when you get your way, or at least you think you got your way, but not in the way you had planned?

Rafe swatted your hand away when you tried to open a bandaid.

“Don’t put that thing on me, it’s fine,” Rafe protested. He placed his hands on your hips. You thought he was going to push you back, but he just sort of held you in place.

“Don’t be a baby.”

Rafe ignored you. He dropped his forehead to your stomach. It was almost as if you were an altar for him to worship at. You ran a hand through his hair, finding the sight to be nothing short of beautiful. You couldn’t help yourself.

He muttered something that sounded like, “Why do you do this to me?” You didn’t answer. He took a breath. “Were you gonna fuck him?” Rafe asked. You were sure of his words this time.

You could lie, you thought, but then decided against it. There was no point now.

Rafe tilted his head up, blue eyes searching yours. There was a sense of longing in them that you noticed every once in a while. That sad little need for approval that he couldn’t get rid of.

“Yeah, probably,” you admitted.

Fire ignited in his eyes.

Just as quickly as he became weak to you, Rafe snapped out of it. He was on his feet in seconds. He towered over you, backing you up with each step until you hit the edge of your counter.

Rafe looked down his nose at you. “Were you gonna fuck him?” he asked again, as if intimidation would change your answer.

You stared up at him, defiant. “Yeah,” you repeated, hopping up to sit on the counter. “Probably.”

Rafe’s bruised hand reached up to cup your face. He watched his thumb as it ran over your lips. When it rested on your bottom lip you opened your mouth. Rafe was transfixed as he slid the digit in. Your mouth enveloped him, swirling your tongue around his thumb. You swore you could taste a little blood.

Rafe made a noise of satisfaction and quickly removed it, covering your lips with his own, filling your mouth with his tongue instead. You moaned into the kiss. It was harsh and hungry. Everything that had been building up over the past day, hell, past years, was finally spilling out. The dam had finally broken. There was no turning back.

“You make me crazy,” he grunted against your lips when he came up for air. You panted, words failing to form as his hand slid between your bodies. “And I know I make you crazy.” His fingers slipped into your shorts and bikini bottom, which you hadn’t even gotten to show off. You hadn’t needed to. You gasped as he pressed a finger into your core. He grinned at the wetness that had already formed. “I know it ‘cause I know you.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your ear.

“Rafe,” you whispered his name, bucking against his hand. He rewarded you with pushing another finger in and thrusting them both with precision.

“I’m the only one that knows you,” he hissed. You shivered as his breath hit your ear, noting the anger. But there was something else to it. “I’m the only one who gets to have you.”

Desperation.

Rafe was desperate for you. For you to understand, for you to agree, for you to feel the same. Desperate for you to want him the way he wanted you.

“Tell me you weren’t,” he pleaded, voice shaking with the rage he was trying to contain.

He wanted you to lie.

“I wasn’t.” Rafe hummed and pressed an approving kiss to your neck. He twisted his fingers inside you, forcing a moan past your lips. His teeth sank into the skin of your neck, sucking and biting as you managed to gasp out, “I wasn’t, I swear.”

Rafe pulled his fingers from you and you whined at the loss. He made up for it by kissing his way back to your lips, swallowing your sounds. He popped the button off your shorts and tucked his hands into the waistband. You lifted yourself long enough for him to yank down your shorts, leaving you bare.

You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and kissed him harder when his hands gripped your waist and pulled you to the edge of the counter. Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, drawing an animalistic sound from him.

“Tell me you want me,” Rafe managed.

You pulled back, eyes flicking from his swollen lips to his hungry eyes. The corner of your lip quirked up a little.

“I thought it was obvious,” you mused, reaching between your bodies.

“I’m gonna fuck you either way, so you might as well just tell me.” There was a devious glint in Rafe’s eyes that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

You pulled your lip between your teeth and you undid his belt. You reached into his pants and found his cock hard and waiting for your touch. Rafe’s hands tightened on your thighs. “I want you, Rafe,” you said exactly what he wanted to hear, voice heavy with lust, every word the truth.

Rafe surged forward, capturing your lips. He shoved his pants down as you stroked him, but he had plans of his own. Rafe pushed himself closer to you, spreading your legs apart with his hips, and gripped his cock. The head pressed at your entrance and you nearly choked when he thrust in with no further warning.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cursed. Your hands found his back, holding on as he invaded your body.

Thick and long, his cock split you open. Rafe grunted, mouth moving over you in a frenzy, kissing wherever he could reach in that second. Your top came off somewhere in the haze and you moaned as his mouth latched onto your breast. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your cunt squeezed him. Rafe’s hands found your waist again, holding you in place as he began to move.

He gave you little time to adjust but you would’ve gone crazy if he waited any longer. Rafe pulled back, letting you feel the thick drag of his cock leaving you, before he thrust in again. And again. And again. All you could do was hold on as he slammed into you, letting everything that had built up go. You welcomed it. All his anger and lust and frustration and love and just everything. Everything said and unsaid between the two of you was finally getting a resolution.

Rafe’s mouth found its way back to your neck, licking and sucking and biting your flesh. He was marking it, marking you, for the world to see. So when they saw the purple marks decorating your neck, everyone would know you belonged to him. But didn’t they know already? To some degree?

It didn’t matter to Rafe. He was making it clear. There was no room for doubt now.

Rafe fucked you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. Your moans filled the room, your curses and his grunts of your name, the sound of skin against skin, the smell of sex—all of it flooded your senses in the most thrilling way. You wanted nothing more than Rafe and nothing less than everything he was giving you.

The pleasure he inflicted was like nothing you had ever experienced and you knew in that moment nothing and no one would ever compare to the high you felt with him.

He pounded into you hard, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. Your thighs clenched around his waist, your legs holding him against you. Rafe filled you entirely, drawing out every animalistic need you had.

“Fuck,” he cursed, lifting his head. You moaned at just the sound of his voice. “You’re so tight. Like you’re made for me.”

Your cunt clenched around him, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls squeezed him. Your body tensed and your breaths grew even more ragged as he pushed you closer and closer towards your edge.

“Rafe, don’t stop,” you gasped out.

His hand found your throat. Your eyes snapped open as he gave it a squeeze. He forced you to meet his gaze. You nearly fell apart just from that.

“It’s always been me, hasn’t it?” he asked, wanting an answer. You nodded because yes, yes it has. “It’s always going to be only you and only me. Only me.” You nodded again, lips only parting to let out a moan when he gave a sharp thrust. “Tell me.”

“You, Rafe,” you fumbled out. “It’s always been you—it's only you,” you said in almost a plea. “I want us.”

That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Rafe gave a sound of approval and a light squeeze of your neck. His thrusts stayed sharp and precise and soon enough you were falling apart in his hold.

His cock shoving into you, his hand on your neck, the look on his face—you were consumed by Rafe and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You let out a cry of his name when your orgasm hit. It crashed over you in a wave, rocking your entire body. Your legs and cunt both tightened, holding him impossibly close inside you. Rafe’s lips devoured yours, smothering your moans and whimpers as you shook against him.

Rafe gave a few more rough, constricted thrusts before a deep groan escaped his lips. His hips stilled and warmth flooded your insides. He shivered against you when you slid your hands beneath his shirt and dragged your nails along his back.

His hand finally left the front of your neck, but it didn’t go far as he slid his palm to cup the back of it. Rafe pressed his forehead to yours, both of you catching your breath.

You took one hand and reached for him, running your fingers over the cut on his cheek.

“I still think you should put a bandaid on it,” you managed, voice weak.

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled away. And just like that you two were all good again.

“I think I’ll pass.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “You’re so stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one. Took you this long to admit you wanted me.”

You gawked at that. “I admitted I wanted you? Seems like it was the other way around. In fact—“

But before you could finish, Rafe silenced you with a deep kiss. His cock twitched inside of you and you couldn’t help but giggle against his lips.

Rafe was only kissing you to shut you up because you were right, and he knew it too. You were always right and Rafe was going to have to learn to accept that one way or another.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #mean!rafe #mean!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx #outer banks #quin-ns writing

773 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 4 months ago

Text

Solomon's Seal

John Price works hard to maintain his self-discipline, but sometimes he loses his grip on that fiery temper of his. When he needs help to feel in control again, he turns to you and your impeccable rope skills. You try to keep things professional, but that proves challenging for both of you. After all, John is just a friend, one of your best clients… so why do you keep imagining him as more?

TW: rope bondage, femdom, crying, emotional hurt/comfort, female genitals. Please check AO3 link below for full tag list.

Big huge thank you and kudos to the amazing and beautiful @gemmahale for her ideas and support on this one! Love you, bestie.

You had cleared your schedule the moment you hung up the phone with him. His voice had sounded so strained, like he was struggling to say the words. You knew that, sometimes, John Price’s work asked too much of him, but this time, he seemed so far beyond his usual level of need that you decided it was better to play it safe and cancel all of your other clients for the week.

As you cleaned your studio, you made additional preparations. Something in your gut was telling you to prepare for the worst. You did your best to remember what he liked. No music, low lights, a soft fan for a bit of a breeze, and jute ropes — none of the synthetics in sight. You eyed your collection; eight hanks should have been enough, but you grabbed four more from the back room just to be sure.

You never really pried into his life during his visits, knowing there was probably much he couldn’t or wouldn’t tell you. He had given you just enough information for you to understand the basics, and you had scoured the internet with those small clues to uncover the rest. At best, he was a soldier, handling the expected dangers and stressors of the job. At worst, he was a literal weapon, aimed and fired at His Majesty’s darkest enemies; a demon hunter meant only for darkness and secrets and pain.

When he had come to you last November, bruised and battered, craving your particular set of skills, you had surmised that it was the latter. Sometimes, when you caught a glimpse of the news, you looked at the bombed buildings of Urzikstan for a sign of him, hoping you wouldn’t see one. When there was a battle lost or won, plastered across the front page of the news, you wondered if he had been there in the thick of it, protecting the world from the monsters that ravaged that land, keeping them from your privileged doorstep.

You checked your clock. He’d be in from Heathrow within the hour. You got to work in the wet room, digging around for the soaps he liked best. His favorite bathing oil was a complex, spicy mix of coriander, basil, and bergamot scents. You’d never admit it to him, but you used it when you found yourself thinking about him, unable to get your equally complex, spicy warrior out of your mind.

John was so different from most of your clients. Many people who came to you were usually seeking something other than what you were prepared to give them. Half of your customers came for sex, for which you added them to your blacklist. The other half was a mixed bag seeking humiliation or reassurance, trying to use you and your art as an alternative to counseling or as a way to explore their kinks. They usually didn’t return after they experienced the level of your craft. You did have a handful of repeat clients who appreciated the practice itself, but they usually had their own partners to play with. You were just a novelty to them. An escape.

Working as a traditional Bakushi was no fleeting hobby, not for you anyway. For you, it was a spiritual calling. John was one of the only clients who understood that and actively wanted to learn more. He had asked for stretching routines, breathing exercises, and advice on meditation. Your soldier was the real deal, even if he couldn’t remember any of the terminology to save his life. You were just happy he had managed to adopt the word shibari into his vocabulary. You could forgive the rest. He didn’t need to know the names of the knots or the positions of the body in order to benefit from his practice.

Your doorbell rang. You took a breath to calm yourself. You needed to be centered for John. Yes, you were excited to see him, but he needed you to be his rock right now, and you needed to push your own desires out of your mind.

The door cracked open, and there he stood. He was just as you remembered him, but he looked like he’d been through hell. Those bright blue eyes were sporting a dark, purple shiner on his left orbital bone. He had cut his lip across the top and bottom, a red line still marring the sensitive flesh. John had cut down his beard to a more manageable level, but his hair was long and unkempt. What worried you most were the dark red welts he wore around his neck. It looked like ropeburn.

“John,” you smiled softly, “So good to see you again. Please come in.”

The formalities of such a polite greeting seemed silly to you after what you had been through together. Sessions with John were always… intense.

He stepped into your foyer, looking at you like he had missed you, but you didn’t allow yourself to give in to the fantasy. He needed you to be professional, and you had a job to do.

You took his hand and led him into your sitting room, offered him a glass of water, and sat beside him. He held your hand in his, refusing to let go, playing with the small bones in your middle finger absentmindedly. You smiled at him, enjoying the quiet of his presence, letting yourself take in these silent moments, unwilling to break the spell of peace until absolutely necessary.

He seemed content to bask in the tranquility as well, happy to rub your delicate knuckle back and forth with his thumb, letting his eyes explore you, lingering on your long, silk robe, his gaze burning into your sternum at the join of your breasts.

“How can I help you, John?”

He took a long breath through his nose, his eyes diverting back down to your connected hands; shame, regret.

“I lost control, again.”

You had heard those words from him before. When he first found you, he told you about his temper. He hadn’t given you any details, but apparently he had hurt an enemy beyond what was necessary. Something he had done had changed him. He wanted to be different, to be more even-keeled, so he’d come to you for help.

“The same as last time?” You asked, hoping it would be better than you suspected.

“Worse,” he looked up at you and flashed a tight-lipped, bitter smile.

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

“Tell me what you need,” you ran your other hand across his wounded cheek, watching as the shine of his eyes gleamed in the low light.

His emotions were at war all over his face. His wet lashes, the twitch of his lip, his darting, avoidant eyes; you could almost hear him fighting in his mind. You put a stop to it, scooting closer to him on the deep sofa, holding his stubbled chin in your hand,

“Hey, you know you can tell me. If it’s within my power to give it to you, you know that I will.”

“I know, love,” he nodded his head, “I think you might try to talk me out of it, is all.”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to work it out. Rebuilding your trust together after some time apart wasn’t something to be rushed. Finally, after a few moments of thought, he studied your face and admitted his desires,

“I want it all. Just like last spring, but more. I need more.”

Your eyes widened before you could stop yourself. You remembered last spring. Vividly. In fact, you had thought about that appointment more times than you would ever admit. He had pushed himself so far, he’d trusted you so deeply, and you’d watched him heal from his wounds. He’d found a new kind of peace. You remember holding him, still bound, both of you sprawled across the floor, sweaty and grinning, your foreheads pressed together, sharing in his joy.

But, you also knew that him wanting more meant that you would be restraining him from head to toe. He’d done arm and chest bindings with you, and in the spring, you’d put him in a single-leg frog tie. But, you’d never done full body work with him. For all of his progress, John still had issues letting his power be taken from him. He wanted to be in control, almost to the point of obsession, and it was only when he was in your ropes that he was able to practice internal control over himself without threat of judgment or danger. He could examine his temper in your safe setting, testing it like a scientist, finding new strengths within himself, mental hurdles to overcome.

However, you worried about what his mental state would be like when he was fully at your mercy. Had he ever been at anyone’s mercy? You doubted it.

He could see you rolling over the problem in your mind, watching as you thought it through, imagining the possibilities.

“What d’ya say, love? Think we can try?” His eyes met yours, and you nodded.

“Yes, let’s try.”

“I might… uh,” he hesitated, clearly unsure of how his next request might be received, “I’m not sure how to say this, but I might need you… after. I know that’s not what you do, but after last spring, I thought you might make an exception.”

You were fully aware of what he meant. Last spring, laying there sweaty and swimming in euphoria together, you had broken your own rule. You’d let your body slide over John’s naked, tied form, and you’d rubbed his cock across your belly and on top of your pussy, sharing an orgasm together. It was reckless of you, and fully outside of the scope of your role, but it was what was right for you both at the time. He hadn’t asked for a repeat performance, always the perfect gentleman, until now.

You nodded,

“Thank you for asking. We’ll see how it goes, and I’ll check in again at the end. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You moved to leave the comfort of the sofa, but he caught your hand,

“Can we start now? Just a bit. If that’s alright.”

“Alright,” you agreed, “Any new injuries I should know about?”

His face stretched into a boyish smile,

“Too many to count.”

You shook your head, ducking into your studio to grab one hank of rope,

“You’re the only one who gets a pass on that, you know.”

You watched his eyes dart to your hands as you untied the bundle, looping the rope end over end, making your first bight. His energy was electric, but you could see something dark slithering underneath.

“I’ll start now, but you need to talk to me. What makes it worse now, John?”

You stood in the middle of the room, watching as he moved into position in front of you. You waited patiently, not needing to give him instructions. John knew what you wanted from him.

He avoided your question, going through the motions of preparing his body for your work. He tugged off his coat and tee shirt, raking it over his broad back, and you tried to ignore the aching red marks that littered his scarred skin. Then, he unbuckled his belt, letting the metal tip clatter and clang in the quiet room, dropping his jeans and peeling off his shoes and socks. Naked, he folded his clothes and lay them to the side. Then, he found his neutral position, kneeling at your feet, palms flat on his thighs, head bowed as if in prayer.

“Hands behind your head, palm to palm,” you spoke your first command, listening to the timbre of your voice and knowing it was different. You were changing into the person that he needed; someone strong, unyielding.

He complied, but he looked a little surprised. You’d never asked him for this position before, but you knew it would get his attention. He would feel the vulnerability of it immediately, his sensitive ribs and armpits exposed.

You started your work, tying his wrists carefully, making sure to leave the proper amount of room, running the rope, rubbing between the soft jute and his hairy skin to check and double check it for safety. As soon as you had one wrist bound, you moved to the other and heard him begin to talk.

“I nearly lost one of my men last week. Good bloke. Took a bullet for me, so I broke the rules.”

“Which rules?”

“All of them,” he looked up at you, rueful and yet unrepentant.

“Would you do it differently,” you admired the smoothness of his wrist, watching as his pulse beat just under the thin skin, rushing through blue veins, “If you could go back in time?”

“No,” Price’s voice was like that of a beast. A dragon. It was a short, simple word, but within it, you understood exactly the feeling of vengeance he was carrying within it. No, he would not go back and change his actions. He would repeat them. That much was clear.

“It doesn’t sound to me like you were out of control, then,” you looped the knots of his wrists around a temporary harness, simple and quick. This was just for now. You had bigger plans for him after you bathed.

John’s mouth turned up into a wry smile, thinking about your assessment, then he said,

“You might be right, love. But, I’m here. I needed this. Needed you. There must be a reason I feel so bloody lost.”

“Let’s find your way back, then. Stand up.”

You led him by the end of the rope to the wet room. The off-white tiles glowed yellow in the candlelight you had prepared, and as you turned on the tap, the room filled with steam. You watched John’s face become indecipherable as you untied the ribbon of your robe, letting the silk pool at your feet, stepping into the shower before him.

You pointed to the small stool in the middle of the wide shower,

“Sit.”

It was a huge installation. During the build process in your renovated space, you’d asked for two large rainshower heads and a massage wand with a flat drain in the center. John knelt in between the two heads, but well within reach of the wand. You switched it on, watching the water jerk and flow through the metal hose, holding it towards your chest and out of his eyes.

You started with his feet, washing them with only warm water first before moving the wand up his legs, wetting his body in stages. You didn’t use your hands yet, but you were eager to. John was quite the specimen, and you felt yourself flush as your eyes explored his body, lingering on places they really shouldn’t.

You were adamant that you were a sex worker who didn’t have sex. You tried to make it abundantly clear that your clients were paying for shibari practices only, and that you did not do… happy endings. Other than your encounter with John, your clients orgasmed alone, and you went to great lengths to ensure it remained that way. But, here was your weakness, asking you to wash him while he was in your knots, warning you that he might crave a sensual aftercare scene, that he’d been thinking about you. It made your skin flush, and even though you were comfortable in your own skin, his obvious desire for you in such a carnal way made you hyper-aware of your bare flesh.

The wand sat back in its hook, water paused, and the only sounds were the quiet drippings against the tile, a slight sucking from the drain, your breathing. You scraped the soap into your palm, making sure to lather it into a rich, thick foam. You stood, walking around him to his back, and began with his bound hands and arms, rubbing his warm, swollen muscles with your palms, spreading the suds over him liberally.

A long, animalistic groan shuddered through John’s lungs, echoing in the bath. It set your nerves on fire to know that you were giving him such pleasure. You wanted more.

You moved to his back, massaging the scented soap into his body, working his skin firmly to promote his bloodflow. As you made pass after pass, his moans became steady and breathy, his mouth hanging open, unable to fight the relaxation he was experiencing.

You washed his legs and feet, needing to bend over him in order to reach the length of his huge thighs. In doing so, your bare breasts came in contact with his back, only light tapping at first, swaying forward as you washed him. You could tell that he could feel you, and he froze, his noises of pleasure turning into hitched breaths, shocked and inaudible.

Your clients usually washed themselves, but John had asked for special treatment, and this was a new experience for you, too. You tamped down on your excitement, but you couldn’t hide your nature. As you leaned forward to wash his knees and shins, ankles and feet, you had to press your soft tits and contrastingly taut nipples against him, over and over, like two inkless stamps, leaving impressions on his wet skin.

Standing again, you waited to give yourself a minute to compose your emotions. The tips of your hair were damp, and your chest was shining from his soapy torso. You tried to wipe the shine away, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. He needed to be looking inwardly, finding his deeper meaning. Staring at your gleaming, sensitive tits was not what he was paying for, no matter what your biology might have wanted.

You stepped around to his front, and you marveled at how big his frame truly was. While sitting, even though the stool was low, his eyes were directly in line with your furry mons. If he only tilted his chin up a little, he could lick…

Your mind clamped down on that thought like a vice. You breathed steady, kneeling before him and reapplying the soap to your hands, trying to refocus yourself on your work.

That was proving more difficult by the moment. Washing his broad chest was like something out of a dream. His nipples were so responsive, and now you could see the way his face twisted with pleasure as your hands massaged your serums into his skin. Every swipe over his pink nubs make him gasp in a new pitch, his brow furrowed with desperation, but his eyes stayed pinned to the tile, just like he was meant to. You expected all of your subs to avert their gaze, to concentrate on their mind, and you made it clear that the practice would stop if they lacked the discipline to do so.

You had never been more grateful for that standard, because if John’s sharp, pale blue eyes found yours right now, you might not be able to keep yourself from losing your own control.

You stepped out of the shower for a moment, grabbing the tie from your robe, slipping it out of its loops. Then, as a way to anchor yourself, you wrapped it tightly around your wrist, twisting the knots you made so that they would face inwardly, the discomfort reminding you of your duties as his dominant. It would work for now, you hoped.

Already, you could feel yourself coming back online, as if someone had splashed cold water in your face. That was, until you turned back to John and saw the last part of your process.

You peered down into his lap, hands full of creamy suds, ready to wash his belly and his nethers, only to discover that he was as hard as steel. His cock flagged tall and curved, tapping on his abdomen, far beyond his bellybutton, giving you a reminder of what was plaguing your dreams. It was beautiful. The uncut skin of his shaft folded around the rim of his ruddy head, eager to be slicked down so that you could tease the tip of him. His balls were round and full, hanging as he sat on the edge of the bench, and all you could think about was what delight was stored within them, ready to burst.

You focused on your knots, letting your one ribbon keep you grounded, and you finished the job. Your hands rubbed soap along his belly, fingers dancing through the thick happy trail of his lower abs. He was built like a workhorse, and although he was fit, his body was well-fed and wide, his core wide and protruding with his strength, thicker as he sat on the stool. There was no bodybuilder’s trim waist. He was all power, heavy and built for unimaginable destruction. You’d never seen his equal, nor a man even close to his immense form. If someone had told you John was one of Zeus’ many bastards, roaming the earth immortal and inhumanly large, you might have believed them.

“I’m going to wash the rest of your body. Remind me of your safeword so that I know you can use it,” you commanded softly, hearing your own voice bounce around the hollow room.

John did not meet your eyes, fully committed to his submission, but you could see his cock pulse with anticipation. He spoke quietly but clearly,

“Red.”

“Louder,” you instructed.

“Red,” he obeyed.

“Again.”

“Red.”

“Again.”

“Red.”

“Good. Stand up.”

You needed to make sure he was ready to proceed. John, experienced as he was, could get stuck in his sub-space just like anyone. So, you made him practice, let his mouth feel the word again and again, primed and ready to be used.

Finally, you reached for his genitals, washing his cock and being mindful of where you spread the soap, scrubbing ever so gently down his ballsack, and then swiping across his cleft, washing through his legs to clean every last bit of him.

Then, trying to be almost clinical about it, you washed him off, cleansing his lower extremities to ensure his comfort before hosing down the rest of him.

Finally, you shut off the water and began to towel him dry, wiping at his dripping skin, trying to ignore how his body’s heat seemed to radiate onto your bare body, inviting you to lean just a little closer, to press into that lovely burn.

But, you didn’t. You discarded the towel and untied your wrist cuff, leaving it with your robe. You reached behind John’s head and unbound the center knot of his ties, allowing him to bring his wrists to the front of his body like handcuffs. You used the end to lead him like a prisoner through your space, parading him to the studio quickly and quietly, eager to begin the main event.

Once inside the studio space, you finished untying his wrists, setting him free once again. He looked down at them, running his fingertip across the raised ridges left by the ropes before dropping his arms to his sides, waiting for your instruction and guidance.

You knelt next to your basket of rope, retrieving a hank from the stack and unwinding it. His eyes darted to your hands, watching you prepare it just for him, like a dog expecting a bone.

“Lay in the center, arms at your sides,” you told him and watched as he followed your instruction. He was less hard now, more relaxed than before, but before long, as he lay there letting his excitement build, he strengthened again, his prick bowing up onto his stomach, flushed and full.

You got to work. Your first goal was to put each of his legs in an advanced frog tie, turning his body on its side so that you could bind his ankle to his thigh, first one leg and then the other. Once his initial ropes were in place, you checked their tension, moving two fingers around and around, trying not to notice his mounting enthusiasm every time you brushed along his inner thigh. Then, once you were satisfied, you helped him into a kneeling position, pushing a thin buckwheat pillow under his knees for comfort.

He shook his head,

“Don’t need it, love. I wanna feel the floor. The pain… helps.”

You eyed him, turning your lips into a soft grin,

“If this were a normal session, I would give that to you,” your tone got his attention, and he did look at your face now, needing to see your intent, “But, what I’m about to put you through is something different. Trust me, John.”

“I trust you.”

He settled into the pillow, returning to his meditative position. You took his hands in yours and held them between your two palms, squeezing them tight, binding them without rope for a moment. Then, you began to breathe in deep, cyclical patterns, over and over. He breathed with you, and you saw the tension leave his face. Whatever had happened to John on this last tour was plaguing him, and you slowed things down to give him a chance to control himself again.

He breathed in with you, and his air rushed out with yours, washing over your skin like a summer wind, keeping your body responsive to him. Every now and then, as you meditated together, you caught his eyes fixed on something other than the floor. He was staring into the darkness between your legs, shadowed by your body and covered with curly hair, hidden from him in plain sight. It was hard for you to focus, knowing he had his mind on your body, but eventually, he averted his gaze, focusing inwardly again.

Finally, when you felt his heart rate slow, you used another hank of rope to create a short waist belt, applying more tension than usual as you fed it along his hips, knowing his thick ass and thighs could take the pressure. Still, you were adamant about safety, watching him every moment for discoloration or discomfort.

He was fidgeting now that the tighter straps were on him, and you saw him closing off his stance, bringing his knees closer together. You caught him, and used one of the loops on his thigh to pull his legs apart again,

“Spread them. Let the pressure flow through your belly and out of your center.”

“Aye,” he sighed, settling into the pain and doing his best to spread his knees wider, concentrating on the feeling. His cock was leaking now, leaving little dark marks on the canvas of his knee bolster, bobbing between his legs as he spread them wider, shining and wet.

You grabbed another rope, trying to hone in on your work,

“I’m going to bind you in almost the same style we practiced last spring, but it will be modified to provide more of that challenge you’ve been looking for. Place your hands behind your back, palms on your elbows, if you can.”

Not every sub had the flexibility to obey, but John did. He’d been doing his stretches. As he assumed his position, his arms’ placement made his chest broad and high, stretching his pecs open while his back was pinned, the skin folding in on itself as his shoulder blades folded back like featherless wings. You threaded your rope over his shoulders, centering the bight at the back of his neck for an anchor point. It was essential that no pressure was applied to the front of his throat, and you were ever-mindful of the fresh injuries that marred his neck.

“What happened here?” You asked, letting your finger pass under a rope that lay on his injured skin, making sure it was loose and gentle. You would give him tightness elsewhere.

He was hesitant to answer you, but he shrugged,

“Bastard came up behind me. Before I could react, he had the wire around my throat.”

“Did you escape on your own?” You pried, trying to keep him talking as you started the long process of his arm binding.

“Aye. He was so busy trying to choke me, he forgot I still had free hands and plenty of bloody knives in my belt.”

You praised him for his openness,

“Good.”

“Is it?” Now, you heard the doubt in his tone. It made you pause, but you simply continued with your ties, not allowing him to know that you were challenged by his cynicism or regret or whatever darkness was making him lean on his fear and anger instead of his peace.

You left his question unanswered, allowing it to hang in the air between you, forcing his mind to dwell on it. You needed him to answer it within himself before you went opening more portals to other emotions and struggles.

You added more and more rope to his binding, and when you finished, you pulled the cord forward across his chest, resting it below his nipples, making sure to graze them as you checked your tension, enjoying the trembling shudder that came from him as your reward. It was the most advanced harness you had performed in a long time. This one was unforgiving. He couldn’t twist left or right. His shoulders were forced down and back, shrugged tight against his body, and his arms were completely powerless. He could pull and heave to try and move his hands away from his back, but there was no escape.

You sat across from John once more, holding his chin up so that he would know you expected him to look at you, and you asked him,

“Do you have any pain or tingling?”

“No.”

“Say your safeword to me one time.”

“Red.”

“The next step will be the final rope, and then we can sit together for as long as you need. Do you want to continue?”

His eyes stared into yours with a bright clarity, and he answered softly,

“Yes.”

You could tell that he was slipping deeper into his sub-space. His eyes softened, but his body shivered. If you brushed your fingers along his ribs, his muscles would kick and jerk. Anything harder, like a deep tissue massage against those huge thighs and he whined for you, smokey and gravelly, full of feral need.

You moved behind him, taking a rope and placing it across his forehead, using your hand to tilt his head back until his eyes were staring at the ceiling. Then, you carefully crafted a face harness, making sure there was not too much pressure on his more delicate bones while still limiting his range of motion so that he was forced to keep his chin pointed up.

You connected the rig to an anchor point on his wrists, and then you took your position in front of him again, staring at his bearded jaw and injured neck, watching his body struggle to relax into a very uncomfortable pose.

“Breathe for me, John,” you knew it was a lot.

Controlling someone’s body was one thing. Even Price had experienced tight knots before, but when you took control over the head, that animal instinct all humans keep deep within themselves tended to come alive. It was a primal fear. You watched John’s chest rise and fall, his stress tumbling around in his breaths as he tried to stay calm.

You reached out both of your hands and rested them on his chest, feeling the way he jerked at your touch, overstimulated and sensitive. You pet his fur, the thick brown hair that dusted his body, soft from the oils you had used. As he breathed, you felt it moving in his lungs, and you let your fingertips ghost over his nipples, rubbing them with the backs of your knuckles, admiring the way they perked up at your attention, puffy and swollen from the unforgiving rope that made them bulge outwardly.

“Mmf–fuck,” he coughed, his eyes knitted into a worried sort of agony.

You smiled, bringing your own nipples towards his chest, letting your soft peaks brush against his hard ones, moving your breasts up and down, drawing little circles and crosses over his chest.

You knew he couldn’t see what you were doing, but he could feel it. He knew, instinctively, and it was sending him into a drunken daze. The pleasure of your touch combined with the pain of your ropes pushed him beyond where he had been before, and perhaps it was past where you had dared to go as well.

“Control your breaths, John. There is nothing else you are responsible for. I’ve taken it all from you. You need to breathe and to spread your peace through your mind. Focus.”

He didn’t respond, but his breathing stilled, and his eyes closed. You removed your touch from him and let him bask in the sensations he was experiencing.

Minutes passed, then more. It had been almost an hour, and you were admiring the way he stayed strong, at first. You reached out to him to anchor him when he seemed like he needed help, caressing his arms and back, massaging the muscles that must be burning white hot by now. He was much more determined than any other sub you controlled. If anyone could handle this difficult position, it was him. But, he was not invincible. You saw the way his breathing became labored, and his cock, which was losing and regaining its hardness as time went on, throbbed from its struggle.

“Do you want to continue?” You asked again, touching him as you had before, moving your hands from his chest to his belly, petting him rhythmically, avoiding his phallus but touching everything else around it. You knew it must have been teasing him, forcing him to imagine how your hands might feel if they reached just a little further.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice strained due to the position of his jaw, and you watched the bulge in his neck bob up and down.

More time slipped by. Your hands had wandered down his legs and across the soft pads of his feet. His body was buzzing with the energy he was spending in order to stay the course. He must have been far beyond simple pain at this point. You remembered a similar scene you’d experienced, and this was much longer than you ever expected to be in it. If John was anything, he was stubborn.

But eventually, you heard him speak,

“We knew it was a trap before we went in. I was reckless, and angry, and I wanted my fuckin’ revenge.”

He paused but you just kept up with your massage, rubbing him down, letting him know you were still there. He continued,

“That bastard was gonna shoot me,” John’s voice cracked from his despair, and you saw shining tears stream down his temples and into his hair, “It was me that he wanted. Then, my… one of my men, he jumped right in front of the gun and took the bullet for me. I thought he was dead. I thought I was, too. But, after… I left my team. Charged in alone. I did things to those men that I'll have to think about for the rest of my bloody days. I became… something else. Something… “

You wiped the tears from his face, petting his cheeks, letting your thumbs brush over his lips gently. He sighed, and you could feel his breath on your fingers,

“It wasn’t right. I knew better, I just wanted them to bloody pay. Wasn’t sure if I was going home with a fuckin’ medal or my papers. Didn’t care.”

There was a long pause, and then, his voice became small. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, but they were wide, full of fear and uncertainty,

“Am I a monster? Is that… Is that the real me? Who am I? What am I?”

You leaned forward and planted delicate kisses across John’s stretched neck, licking and sucking at his skin in very light, careful touches, tasting his wounds and trying to heal them.

You sat back, removing yourself from his body, letting him sit alone for a moment before you said,

“You are a human being. You are capable of love and hate, pleasure and pain. You might feel like you need to answer for some of your violence, but your own humanity is not defined by your actions. You believed that was the path you needed to take. You destroyed dangerous men before they destroyed you. That is not a monster. A monster destroys the innocent. Were those men innocent?”

“No,” he snarled, full of spit and ire.

“They made their own choices. They controlled their own lives. Your perception of your own control is too broad, John. You couldn’t save them. They didn’t need saving. You did. It was you who needed to be saved.”

“I should’ve been able to stop… to stop… stop killing. I couldn’t. I needed them to burn for what they did to my fuckin’ soldier. To my friends! Fuck!”

John was gasping now, too full of emotion to control his breath, releasing his stress in deep, bellowing grunts. You unfastened his head harness immediately, freeing him. The instant he could move, he let his head fall forward and placed his cheek on your breast, stretching himself as far as he could, hoping you would be there to catch him.

And you were. You held him in your arms, wrapping your own across his many knots, feeling the fibers of his ties and the smooth warmth of his body, separate but unified. You could feel his wet cheek upon your skin, his anger rolling off of him in waves. He was letting out each breath as an exhaled hiss, the fire in his eyes at full peak, a blazing rage that seemed like it would suffocate him.

You picked up his head in your hands, resting your forehead on his and told him,

“Let it go. Just like that. Scream. Let it out of you, John. Forgive yourself.”

He let himself go for a moment, howling like a wild boar, full of unnatural rage and pain. You heard his shouts and tucked them away from your heart, keeping them for later, choosing to just let him express it and have his crashing waves of feeling wash over you, but you refused to drown in it. He still needed you.

“Do you forgive me?” His plea was that of a boy, innocent and achingly pure.

“I forgive you,” you replied without hesitation, “Forgive yourself, now.”

He shook his head back and forth, rubbing his face on yours, bitter and despondent,

“I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you to,” you barked, grabbing him at the base of his skull by his hair, forcing his head back into that same bent position, holding him by force, “Trust me, John. Say it out loud. I forgive myself. Say it. C’mon.”

“I… forgive...”

“C’mon. I know you can do this,” you used both hands to hold his head under your control, your chests pressed together, your breathing equal and ragged, both of you pulled to the end of your abilities.

“I forgive myself.”

“Again!” You gasped. You tugged at his nape, forcing him to arch his back with what little movement he still had access to.

He grunted in response, breathing heavy, each exhale a guttural shout,

“I forgive myself.”

“Good. So good. Let it out. Use the pain; let it wash you clean.”

You let his head come forward, and you saw a new man staring back at you. Before you knew what was happening, you felt your lips crash together with John’s, sliding along his mouth, tasting him and being tasted by him. His tongue slipped into the hollow of your palate, folding and twisting for more and more control, taking you into him as much as he could manage. Then, he pulled away abruptly, resting his forehead against yours again,

“I’m sorry. I just… I feel…” You watched him search for the words, “I feel like I’m back. It’s been so long, but I can feel myself again.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you,” he tilted his head, exhausted, sitting back on his heels, his face a serene picture of peace, “I need you to touch me, like this. Please.”

You looked at him for a moment and then moved your hands between his legs, finding his warm rod waiting to be held. As soon as your fingers touched him, his whole body convulsed, and he cried out at the sensation.

You began to rub his shaft with long, slow strokes, avoiding his head for now, finding a nice, easy rhythm, encouraging John to match your breathing. He did, stealing kisses when your faces were near one another, and eventually, you were nose to nose, sharing your breaths again, listening to the rush of air and the wet slick sound of his tacky precome being spread all over his length.

You reached behind him and grabbed another bolster, putting the soft pad behind his back. Slowly, you helped him lay down onto it, knowing his arms would be crushed by his weight, but making sure the stress was something he could stand. His legs were spread wide, fully pliant and open to you, and you sat between them, bringing your hands back to his center, working his curved shaft up and down, watching as his belly filled with air, expanding from his breaths, only to collapse again, the muscles within him clenching and releasing in an undulating pattern of lust and need.

“Oh, fuck,” he bit his lip, wrenching his eyes shut, “Please… I need… Bloody hell, I need you, love. Please.”

“Are you sure, John?” You tried to check in with him, ignoring your own desire to immediately fulfill his wish, your pussy swollen and dripping in anticipation.

“Yes. I want you to take me. Please.”

His eyes looked up at you, his body bent and bowed, sweet and desperate for you, looking to you for his pleasure.

Carefully, you straddled him, feeding his head between your legs, sighing with joy as his tip slotted into the soft divot of your hole. He couldn’t thrust up into you. In fact, he couldn’t participate at all. You were the only one who could bring him pleasure or bring him pain, and that thought made your head rush, making you dizzy with desire, knowing that this man, a ruthless killer, mysterious and brutal, steady and kind, all of what he was — he was helpless beneath you.

As you sank down onto his girthy tip, your body ached from the stretch. It was an effort to fit him inside of you, and you breathed through it, wanting to push yourself flush to his hips. When you met his warm root, you shared a loud moan together, the relief overwhelming you both.

Then, you used your hips to make grinding, wide circles, churning his cock within your core, making yourself even more soaked, feeling your movements sending repeated signals to your cunt to make more and more slick come. It seemed endless, and it pooled out of you, matting his hair and drowning his dick in hot, sticky fluid.

He was grunting softly at the apex of each circle of your hips, his voice hoarse and full of want. You heard him wanting more, wanting you to hump him up and down, to slide yourself along his cock from root to tip. But, you were in charge, and you set the pace. So, you continued, around and around and around in an impossible spiral, using your hands to play with his nipples, pinching them cruelly, positioning them under the tight rope to make them ache to be free.

“Ungh, fuck! You’re fuckin’ soaked, love. Feels so bloody good.”

You smiled down at him, refusing to take his bait, knowing he was beyond ready for more.

Sure enough, he began to beg you, his skin flushed and his heart beating hard from being edged by your grinding,

“Will you fuck me… please? Just… I need… fuck, I need more. Fuck me, please! Oh, fuck…”

“Shh. Be good for me, John. Trust me.”

You stayed the course, rocking your hips around his base, never letting him thrust in and out, just winding yourself around him like a tight spool, pushing him to his breaking point. He felt so good inside of you, and his cock was so deep, you could feel the turgid body of his shaft if you pressed down on your lower belly, your fingers finding his outline through your skin and muscles and fat, your hands making indentions in your flesh, teasing him from the outside.

“Cut me out,” he snarled, straining against his bindings hard enough to hurt himself.

You peered down at him, slowing your hips to a glacial pace,

“You know your safeword, John.”

“Cut. Me. Out.”

His eyes were vicious when he looked up at you now. He was like a hungry wolf; his gaze held within it a dark promise that — if you cut his leash — he would destroy you.

On one hand, your body celebrated that realization. It was eager to be devoured by this monster of a man, but you had worked hard to control your primal urges, and you decided to put your hound back in his cage. You let your hand snake around his throat, squeezing where it was safest, digging in your nails for him to feel your threat more vividly, knowing it would hurt him against his healing wounds,

“If you want to stop, say the word.”

You waited, watching his tortured face, panting and wet from tears and sweat, but he remained silent. You licked your lips,

“You came here for a lesson in self-control, and I am your teacher.”

For the next half hour, you made sure John Price understood who was in control of his pleasure. You sat on his cock, rocking back and forth until you felt his body tense up, and then you pulled yourself off of him, leaving his throbbing prick out in the cold, tapping at your ass cheeks, begging to be let back in.

You ignored him, touching yourself with your fingers, using the chubby flesh of his lower belly to rub against your cunt, smearing your wetness all over him as you played in your hole.

Then, you would put him back inside and start the process all over again, grinding and stopping, grinding and stopping, until your mighty sub was whimpering for release, his balls tight against his core, ready to flood you with his come at any moment.

Finally, when you saw how fuck-drunk he was, coming in and out of consciousness like he’d been drugged, you decided to relieve him of his burden. You caught his eye and made sure he knew what was coming. Immediately, you had his full attention. He began to chant, hoarse and rasping under his breath,

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck…”

You let the anticipation build, slipping your pussy over his head in feather-light swipes, letting your folds tickle his cockhead mercilessly. Then, you began to bounce your hips on his cock.

“Ungh– love, I’m —” he growled, his words breathless and broken, unbridled.

“I want your come,” you confessed, getting lost in your own pleasure, “I want it in me… Deep. In. Me,” you changed your tone, tightening your grip on the nape of his neck as much as you dared, “And I’m going to take it from you.”

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, shining with fresh tears, overstimulated and raw.

Then, you saw the relief smooth across his brow, and you waited for a breath before you felt it, spearing yourself on him to his hilt, plugging your cunt so that his come would be plugged up inside of you, filling your emptiest parts, making them warm and swollen with his spend.

You felt him bursting inside of you, his girth stretching you every time he throbbed, spraying inside of you over and over, dumping his load into your soft hole. When you felt him finish, you began your grinding circles again, causing him to roll and twist, aching from the pleasure and pain.

“Nngh… love, please… can’t… I can’t…”

You yanked the slip tie out from under his shoulder, and suddenly, he had control of his arms again. You did the same to his legs, freeing him from your ties, ending his captivity.

Like a flash, he erupted upwards toward you. His hands went to your hips, sitting up to hug himself around your body, crushing you to his chest and forcing you down into his lap, spearing you on his sensitive rod as if you had planned to pull him out. His mouth savaged your breasts, biting them cruelly, his fingers holding you tight enough to leave you bruised.

You grabbed his face, holding his bristled cheeks in your hands again, bringing him up to kiss you. You pressed your lips to his as delicately as you could manage, trembling from your bliss. He kissed you back, and that’s all you did for what felt like an eon. Your mind swam through a blank, glittering cosmos, and the only thing that was real was the feeling of John’s mouth on your mouth and his sex on your sex, his hands on your body and your hands on his body, his pain and your pain, his love and your love. You and he were muddled together like pigments on a palette, jonquil and fuschia, no longer existing as one or the other and yet both smearing together, mixed and inseparable, ready to paint a bright, endless sun.

You had melted, it seemed, under John’s sweating, heaving body. His ribs bullied into your belly every time he took a breath, and his cock had softened so that it slipped away from you. Your body ached for its comfort again, every nature-made part of you punishing you for losing it, coaxing you to do anything to get it back, to fill the space left vacant. You were tucked into his chest, folded and hiding beneath his chin, rubbing at the flat of his sternum with the back of your hand.

His finger brushed a stray curl from your brow, touching your hair with respect, staring down at you in awe,

“My hero,” he purred.

You smiled, kissing the stubble on his chin,

“Am I, now?”

“My head…” He stared up at the ceiling again, going to it for comfort like a long lost friend, “It’s so quiet. So clear. You’ve done that for me, and I’ll be thanking you for the rest of my days.”

“I’ll always be here for you, John. You are my muse in more ways than I’ll ever admit,” you laughed breathlessly, a little sad. It was bittersweet, falling in love with a man you couldn’t have. But, you found yourself in him and now you would need to work out how to live without that mirrored reflection. You felt linked to him, two unbroken cords looped together like Solomon’s seal, inseparable and yet laid on two disparate paths.

“Don’t…” He said, his tone sounding even more sorrowful than yours.

You sat up on your elbow, bringing your face up to his to look at him, to see his emotions,

“What?”

“Don’t make me hope.”

“What do you hope for?” Your voice fell into a whisper, your heart not having the strength to ask your question aloud.

He matched your tone, purring out his confession with a tired but cheeky grin,

“For a woman who can bring me to my knees,” then, his expression turned serious, and his eyes traced his finger as he played with the stray curl he had found, studying its winding path, “For a healer. Someone who can remind me of who I am. Everytime I stop to catch my breath, I’ve been hoping for you.”

Your heart stuttered, knowing that he was not a man to settle down in one place. You looked down at his chest rising and falling with his breath, matching your rhythm, unable to meet his eyes,

“How long can you stay?”

He put a thick finger under your chin, just as you had for him during his session, making you meet his gaze,

“Let’s start with tonight…”

He planted a soft kiss on your left cheek.

“...then tomorrow…”

His lips kissed your right cheek, dragging hungrily across your skin,

“...and all the tomorrows that you’ll give me. I’ll take them all, if you let me.”

John placed his final kiss on your open mouth, lips parted, concentrating on what he was saying. You smiled, kissing him back in earnest,

“Tonight, then. And tomorrow.”

“And tomorrow,” he nodded, smiling brightly, rolling himself over you to shield you from the chill of the room, folding you into his darkness, safe, bound to him without a cord, knotted together without a bight, tangled for however long the strands would hold.

AO3 Link --- Thank you for the kudos!

#call of duty fanfic #captain john price #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #fem!reader #john price smut #oh captain my captain #captain johnathan price #captain price smut

749 notes · View notes

lefteagleblizzard · 2 months ago

Text

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: Trapped in the freezing sanatorium, Mike notices your body trembling from the cold and takes matters into his own hands-literally. His touch starts out innocent, a way to warm you up, but soon it turns into something far more heated.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Wolfie being a good boy. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex.

Note: I played the original game years ago, and now that I'm playing the remake, my crush on Mike has come back. He's such a good character with amazing development. I never expected to like him this much. I'm near chapter 7 of the remake, and I'm honestly loving it.

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Words counts: 3000

𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

The cold of the sanatorium was oppressive. It seemed to leech the warmth from the very walls, seeping into your skin and bones, making every breath feel like you were inhaling shards of ice. As you and Mike rummaged through the mess of papers and debris in the dim, decaying room, the chill became impossible to ignore.

You had been at this for what felt like hours. Searching for anything, any clue, any scrap of information that could help you make sense of the nightmare you and your friends had stumbled into.

You wanted to focus. You needed to. But the cold was starting to weaken you. Your muscles ached from the effort of trying to stay warm, and despite your best attempts to keep it together, your hands were trembling as you shuffled through the scattered papers. The torn, thin jacket you'd found earlier did little to protect you, barely covering your torso, let alone insulating you from the freezing air.

Snowflakes continued to drift in from the broken windows, scattering across the dusty floor.

The place felt like a tomb. The smell of decay hung in the air, making every breath feel heavy, cold, and full of death.

Mike tried to stay focused, but even as his eyes scanned the scattered papers on the floor, his attention was pulled to you. You were over by the corner of the room, crouched low beside an old table, sifting through stacks of yellowed documents, your movements deliberate but slow. The jacket clung to you awkwardly, barely covering your arms and torso.

Even from across the room, he could hear your teeth chattering slightly, despite how hard you were trying to suppress it.

You always did that, pushing yourself even when it was clear you were struggling. Mike admired that about you, but it was also something that worried him. He knew you were trying to stay strong for him and the rest of the group, but the last thing Mike wanted was for you to get hurt or worse.

His thoughts raced, that protective instinct flaring up again. You didn't deserve this. You deserved to be somewhere warm, safe... with him.

He had been feeling that way for months now, ever since that night after he broke up with Emily. That night had changed everything for him. You were the one who stayed with him, sitting by his side, listening to him vent as he struggled to process the end of his long-term relationship.

You didn't just offer hollow platitudes; you gave him the kind of comfort and understanding he never knew he needed. He realized then, somewhere between the midnight conversation and the quiet moments of silence, that you were different. You weren't just his friend; you were the one person who made him feel like himself again.

After that night, he found himself constantly thinking about you. How easy it was to talk to you, how you made him laugh even when he felt like shit.

He'd find excuses to see you, call you up for help with college work, or invite you out for something casual. He always assumed you'd catch on quickly to his flirting, but you never did. Either he was terrible at flirting with a guy like you, or you were just completely oblivious.

Without a word, he began to unbutton his own jacket, which was far thicker and more insulated than the pathetic excuse you were wearing.

He held it out toward you.

"Here," he said simply. "Take it"

You shook your head immediately. "No. I'll be fine. You need it more than I do."

Mike narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. "You're freezing, man. You look like you're about to turn into an ice cube."

You tried to laugh it off, though it came out weak and unconvincing. "It's really not that bad. I can handle the cold. And it'd be selfish of me to take your jacket. There’s no way you're any warmer than I am."

With the simple tank top he was wearing underneath, now all dirty with mud and snow, it became even harder for you to stop staring at him. His muscular and strong arms drew your attention.

Mike sighed, holding the jacket out stubbornly towards you. "You're not fine. You're shaking like a leaf." He reached out, gently brushing his fingers over your arm, feeling the coldness of your skin even through the thin fabric of your jacket. "Just take it."

But you shook your head again, more firmly this time. "It wouldn't be fair," you murmured, looking down at the papers you were holding. "You need it just as much as I do. I can handle the cold. We've been through worse than this, right?"

Why couldn't you just let him take care of you for once?

"Come on," he tried again, his voice soft but insistent. "After everything we've been through tonight, hypothermia is the least of my worries. I'm not letting you freeze out here, not when I can do something about it."

You glanced up at him, your eyes softening for a moment, and for a second, Mike thought you might actually take the jacket. But then you shook your head again.

"I'll be fine, Mike."

Mike sighed heavily, his breath visible in the cold air as he ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it, you're stubborn.”

You gave him a small smile, trying to divert the conversation as you continued sorting through the papers. "I've been called worse."

Finally, with a deep sigh, Mike relented, shoving his jacket back on with a grumble.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sounds being the creak of old floorboards beneath your feet and the occasional rustle of paper. Wolfie, the wolf Mike had somehow managed to befriend, lay beside you, his fur brushing against your leg as he occasionally shifted.

Every so often, you'd reach down to scratch behind Wolfie's ears. His fur was soft under your fingertips.

You gripped the edges of the papers in your hand, hoping that somehow, just focusing on the task in front of you would make it better.

It didn't.

It was then that you noticed Mike shifting beside you and before you could react, his body was pressing up against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist in a firm but gentle hold. His warmth hit you immediately, and you couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped your lips at the sudden contrast.

"Mike?" you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stiffened in surprise at the closeness.

"Relax," he murmured, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "If you won't take my jacket, I'll just have to warm you up myself." he whispered, his voice rough and low.

Your heart started to race, not just from the unexpected contact, but from the undeniable heat that surged through your body as Mike's lips brushed against the side of your neck. The sensation was electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold this time.

His lips moved slowly, deliberately, trailing soft kisses down the length of your neck, each one sending a wave of heat through your body. Your body was leaning into his touch, craving more of the warmth and comfort he was offering.

This wasn't the Mike you were used to. This was something far more intimate, more personal.

"Mike... I don't..." you began, but your words trailed off as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"You don't what?" he asked softly, his hand sliding up from your waist to rest on your chest, pulling you even closer against him. "You don't want this?"

Of course you wanted it. More than anything, really. You'd been harboring feelings for Mike for so long, feelings you'd kept hidden, thinking there was no way he'd ever see you as anything more than a friend, a study partner, a background presence in his life.

But now, with his body pressed against yours and his lips trailing fire down your neck, it was clear that Mike had been seeing you in a very different light for a while.

"I didn't think..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think you felt like this about me."

He hadn't planned on this happening, not exactly. But as he held you in his arms, feeling the heat of your body against his, he couldn't deny how good it felt, how right it felt to be this close to you. For years, he had pushed his feelings for you to the back of his mind, thinking it wasn't something you'd ever want. You were smart, focused, always so kind.

He pressed closer, his lips trailing lower along your collarbone, his fingers gently digging into your waist. The torn jacket you were wearing slid down slightly, giving him better access to your skin, and he took full advantage of it, kissing his way down your neck with slow, deliberate movements.

Mike's lips paused against your skin, and he pulled back, his expression soft but intense. "You really didn't notice, did you?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I've been trying to get you to see it for months. I thought you'd pick up on it, but... guess I'm not as smooth as I thought."

You blinked at him, your mind reeling. "You've... been trying to tell me?"

"Yeah," he admitted, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "I've been dropping hints since we stayed up all night after Emily and I broke up. You were there for me, man. And ever since then I just... I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I didn't think you'd ever feel like that about me," you confessed, your voice shaky with disbelief.

Mike smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he pulled you a little closer. "I noticed the way you looked at me," he said quietly, his breath warm against your skin. "All those times you'd stare at me, thinking I didn't see. You were so fucking adorable, but it drove me crazy."

You blinked up at him, clearly shocked by the confession. Mike chuckled softly, his lips brushing over your jawline, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your waist. "You're not that good at hiding it, you know."

Before you could respond, Mike kissed you. His lips hungry, filled with all the emotions he hadn't been able to express before. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer.

You responded almost immediately, your lips parting under his, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer.

Mike deepened the kiss, his hands slipping beneath your jacket, his fingers tracing the outline of your hips, your waist, your chest. His tongue dipped past your lips.

After a long moment, Mike pulled back just enough to whisper, his voice low and rough, "You're okay with this, right?"

You didn't even hesitate this time. You nodded, breathless.

Mike's grin widened, and without another word, he kissed you again, even more deeply this time. His hands moved up your sides, tugging at the edges of your jacket as he pressed you against the wall.

You pulled him closer, your hands tangling in his hair as the heat between you both grew.

Mike's lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and back to your neck, his hands roaming your body as if he couldn't get enough of you. Your breath coming in shallow gasps as he kissed his way down to your collarbone, his grip on your waist tightening.

You wanted more, needed more, and judging by the way Mike was holding you with his erection pressing insistently against you, he felt the same.

He pulled back slightly, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced over at Wolfie, who had been lying quietly in the corner of the room.

He bent down, ruffling the fur of the wolf who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room. "Go on, buddy," Mike whispered. "Follow me for a second."

The wolf trotted after Mike as he stepped out of the room, leaving you alone for a few moments, heart still racing. You could hear him talking softly to Wolfie just outside the door, something about how you were "the guy" he'd told the wolf about before.

When Mike came back into the room, locking the door behind him, the intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken even more.

Without wasting another second, Mike crossed the room in a few quick strides and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a deep, hungry kiss. His lips were insistent, full of desire, and you couldn't help but melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back with just as much need.

Mike's hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips, pulling you closer. His tongue teased at your lips before slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

He broke the kiss just long enough to mutter, "God, I've wanted you for so long."

Then, his lips were on yours again. His hands gripping you even tighter, pressing you against the nearest wall as his mouth trailed down your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin there.

His hands were on you, pulling at your clothes, lowering them to expose just what was needed with an almost frantic urgency, before he gripped your ass, his fingers digging into the soft skin with a possessive intensity as he lifted you slightly, pressing his body against your.

"Relax," Mike whispered, his voice low and commanding as his fingers trailed down, teasingly brushing against your entrance. "Let me take care of you."

He teased you for a moment, his fingers gently exploring before he slowly pushed one inside, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his voice low and gravelly.

He moved his finger slowly at first, watching your face for every reaction, but as you relaxed into his touch, he added another finger, stretching you carefully.

Mike's other hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, more tender.

By the time Mike pulled his fingers out of you, you were trembling with anticipation, your body aching for him.

You heard the rustle of fabric as he undid his pants, and then you felt the tip of his hard cock rubbing against your thigh.

"Ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You could barely nod, your entire body trembling with need. Mike lined himself up, his hands gripping your hips firmly, and then, with one slow, steady thrust, he pushed inside.

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretched you, filled you completely. He moved slowly at first, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you could do was moan softly, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"You're perfect," Mike groaned as he began to move, his hips moving with slow, deliberate motions. "You feel so fucking good."

Mike's hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your chest, cupping your face as he kissed you hungrily. His cock filled you completely, each slow thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His hands moved lower, his fingers finding their way between your legs as he stroked you in time with his thrusts.

The more his pace picked up, the more his movements became rougher, more desperate. He kissed you again, biting at your lips, your neck, his hands gripping your ass tightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust.

"Fuck," Mike groaned, his voice low and husky. His soft grunts filling the cold room as he moved inside you.

The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as his thrusts became faster, harder. You could feel the heat spreading through your body, your muscles tensing as you teetered on the edge.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, Mike groaned loudly, his hands gripping you tightly as he came, his cock pulsing inside you. The sensation sent you over the edge as well, and you cried out as your own orgasm ripped through you, your voice muffled against his neck.

After a few moments of catching your breath and letting the weight of everything settle in, Mike pressed another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling away slightly, his hands lingering on your hips. You could see the satisfied smile tugging at his lips, that playful, cocky expression you had grown so used to over the years. He gave you a wink before straightening up, pulling his pants back up and adjusting himself as if nothing had happened.

You followed suit, your body still buzzing with the aftermath. There was something so surreal about it all. Being here, with Mike Munroe, of all people. You had known him for years, but you had never imagined things would end up like this.

Once you were both dressed and more or less presentable, Mike walked over to the door, unlocking it with a soft click.

"Ready to face Wolfie again? He might be a little upset that we kicked him out." He glanced back at you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, before swinging the door open.

Outside, Wolfie was sprawled out across the floor, his furry body taking up most of the tight hallway. The wolf's ears twitched at the sound of the door opening, and he turned his head to glance at the two of you. His golden eyes scanned you two and then, with what could only be described as a huff, he plopped his head back down onto the floor, letting out a long sigh as if he had been deeply offended by the delay.

"Is he pouting?" you asked, incredulous.

Mike smirked, clearly amused by the wolf's behavior. "What? You jealous, buddy?" he teased as he crouched down beside Wolfie. The wolf, still looking somewhat begrudging, turned his head away, as if refusing to acknowledge Mike.

Mike reached out, scratching Wolfie behind the ears, his voice dropping into a low, playful tone. "Come on, don't be mad. I was just doing my part to keep him warm. You know how cold it is here."

You watched as Wolfie's resolve began to crumble under Mike's touch, his tail thumping softly against the floor as Mike scratched behind his ears. Mike chuckled, his cocky grin growing wider. "See? I warmed him up real good. All thanks to me."

Wolfie responded with a soft growl. He finally turned his head back toward Mike and he ruffled his fur, looking pleased with himself.

"Yeah, yeah," you said, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face.

Mike stood up, shooting you a wink as he slung his arm around your shoulder. "Damn right, I did." He leaned in to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips.

Together, you and Mike walked down the hallway, Wolfie trotting along beside you. And as Mike gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, you couldn't help but feel grateful that, through all the chaos and terror of the night, you had found someone worth fighting for.

If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

415 notes · View notes