#no no no you might’ve heard the little start up sound but- no that was the mario music.
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dykebeckett · 9 months ago
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truly I believe that the best example of saying no effectively in improv is the yogpod fridge tax bit it’s so iconic to me.
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yandere-daydreams · 8 months ago
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Title: Puppy Love.
Pairing: Yandere!Yuuji x Reader x Yandere!Yuuta
Word Count: 2.6k.
TW: Hybrid AU, Puppy!Yuuta, Puppy!Yuuji, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Biting, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Obsessive Behavior.
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You heard Yuuji, first.
 He’d always been the louder of the pair, not that it was a very steep competition. You hadn’t had him for very long, but—well, it was less that he came out of his shell quickly and more that he’d never had a shell at all. It only taken a day or so for him to get used to the idea of living with you and Yuuta full-time, a week for him to start acting like he’d always been a part of your little family, and another month before he started pawing at your bedroom door at night and whining when you reminded him that you preferred to sleep alone (meaning: without multiple two-hundred pound hybrids draped across you). He was energetic, overly friendly, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to call him disobedient or difficult. You figured having a more, for lack of better phrasing, dog-like hybrid in the house would be good for Yuuta, bring out his more instinctive side. In reality, the added stress of an overly hyper roommate had only worked to make him just a little more anxious than he already was, but you still thought it was good for him. If nothing else, Yuuji gave Yuuta something to focus on that wasn’t you, and Yuuta could use more distractions.
But Yuuji, though—He was what you should’ve been focusing on, at the moment. Through the haze of exhaustion, you could hear the door creaking open, the muffled sound of padded feet on carpeting and the tiny, almost inaudible vocalizations Yuuji never seemed to realize anyone else could hear. Soon enough, you felt the foot of the mattress dip as he clambered onto your bed. Any other night, you would’ve forced yourself to sit up and tell him to leave, would’ve called on the dozens of books and hundreds of blogposts you’d read about hybrid obedience training and found the strength to ‘reinforce boundaries despite personal feelings’, but you were tired beyond the point of discipline, and Yuuji didn’t mean any harm. One night of letting him curl up next to you wouldn’t hurt, even if you did make a mental note to show Yuuta some extra affection in the morning – just to keep the scales balanced. For all their many differences, they were both prone to crying favoritism.
You never stirred, but you settled deeper into place, curling into yourself as Yuuji remained at your feet. You might’ve fallen asleep entirely, if Yuuji hadn’t spoken.
His voice was quiet, low, audibly trepidatious. It reminded you of Yuuta’s nervous, stuttering inclination, although not quite as unsteady. “Are you sure it’s alright to…?”
“I am.” You weren’t sure who you expected to answer, but the sound of Yuuta’s voice almost startled you awake. It was normal for Yuuji to bend the rules. Yuuta was supposed to know better. “She’s asleep, right? Just don’t wake her up.”
Yuuji didn’t respond, but you felt the sheets draped over your shift, a warm hand curl around your calf. For as little reassurance as Yuuta had provided, it seemed to be enough for Yuuji.
It was half curiosity and half fatigue that kept you quiet as Yuuji moved around you. Whatever they might’ve been up to, nothing could’ve seemed worse than having to wake up and sacrifice much-needed sleep for the sake of scolding your (usually angelic) pets. At worst, you’d wait until you could catch them in the act or, better yet, grit your teeth and bare it until they left. Anything not to have to deal with this for another eight hours.
You rolled onto your side, twisting your leg out of Yuuji’s hand and letting out a soft groan as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t a subtle position, let alone an inviting one, but Yuuji only whimpered, only edged closer to you. This time, when he touched you, it was to take up your shoulder – his hold gentle and breathing heavy as he nudged you onto your back. Whatever he was doing, he seemed determined to see it through. It might’ve been more admirable, if you hadn’t been so confused.
You felt your sheets pull away from you next, then another hand on your ankle, Yuuji’s rough claws pressing lightly into your skin as his loose grip flexed. You felt him draw your legs apart, and with the corner of your mouth already quirking downward, you started to open your eyes, to sit up and—
Suddenly, you felt something wet and warm press into your cunt, and you stopped moving entirely.
Whatever lingering exhaustion you might’ve felt was swiftly replaced with cold, pointed terror. This time, you forced yourself to hold still, it wasn’t out of confusion or curiosity, but an abrupt and paralyzing fear.
It wasn’t a feeling Yuuji seemed to share. His tongue was already moving across the length of your slit, his drool already soaking into the silk of your panties. He was making those noises, again; deep and throaty, closer to the sounds a prowling animal would make than anything remotely similar to human speech. Both of his hands found their way to your ass, claws biting into the plush flesh as he buried his face in your pussy. He was just as rough with his mouth – his pointed canines ghosting over the inside of your thighs and catching on the material of your panties, his broad togue laving over your covered entrance as if he could taste you through the fabric. It was only when he bowed his head, when the bridge of his flat nose ground against your clit that you started to wonder if he actually could, but forced yourself not to linger on the idea for very long. Thinking about what he was doing, assigning a motive to his actions – that would only make this worse. Thinking at all would only make this worse.
You bit down on the side of your tongue with as much force as you could afford to use, willing yourself to hold still, to not react – a wounded animal, playing dead as to not attract the attention of a predator. You felt Yuuji’s hands shift, calloused fingertips pressing into your thighs, then—
“Stop.”
Yuuta. Wonderful, miraculous, well-behaved Yuuta. You would’ve sighed, if you weren’t holding yourself so stiff. You could hear him moving closer, too – his footsteps feather-light compared to Yuuji’s. You braced yourself to break up a fight (there’d been a few when Yuuji first came home with you, when you first realized that Yuuta had never learned to share), but rather than barking, growling, any of the sounds that came with two animals trying to tear each other apart, there was only rustling fabric, another shift in gravity as Yuuta positioned himself by your side. “Y-you’re doing it wrong,” he stammered, and something deep inside of you seemed to curl up and die. “You have to take her clothes off first. Otherwise, she won’t feel anything.”
It was almost strange, hearing him take charge. In any other context, you might’ve been proud.
Yuuji whined, but obliged. His nails scraped against your hips as he balled his fist around the fabric and tore, making no effort to spare the delicate fabric. The remaining scraps were discarded with just as little care, and before you could fully wrap your mind around what was happening, he was back to lapping at your cunt. With the only barrier between you gone, it felt less like he was trying to eat you out and more like he was trying to eat you alive – his tongue too thick and too long, his hands too big and too prone to groping at whatever was underneath him, the boundless energy you were so used to finding either infinitely adorable or impossibly exasperating sudden not quite as harmless than you’d always considered it to be.
The next time he found your clit, you couldn’t stifle your reactions – little, half-choked whimpers and moans escaping despite your pursed lips. Your hips twitched, and for the first time, you felt Yuuji draw back willingly. He was such a sweet dog. Even with your eyes clenched shut, you could picture him tilting his head to the side, his ears flopping in the same direction and his big, dark eyes going full puppy-dog. Usually, you’d melt at the sight, give him whatever he was asking for and comfort him the best you could, but you didn’t have much comfort to spare, and Yuuta was already answering on your behalf.
“That means she likes it,” he explained, his voice a little quieter, a little more airy than it’d been before. “Keep going, she’ll make more.”
There was a short lapse, passed in silence. For a second, you let yourself believe he’d come to his senses, that he might stop, but it was only for a second. His response was enough to dash any remaining hope you might’ve had. “…will she get louder?”
“Mhm.” And then, with the slightest note of pride, “She does for me, at least.”
And just like that, Yuuji’s head dipped, his mouth latching onto your pussy with a renewed concentration. You willed yourself not to move, not to think, not to do anything that would mean having to open your eyes and acknowledge what was happening, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his mouth against your cunt, not to let the sounds of saliva and arousal against tongues and skin seep into the back of your mind and tint the pleasure slowly starting to pool at the pit of your stomach with a vicious, sickeningly sweet, nectar-like quality. It wasn’t long before your own pitiful noises were just as difficult to suppress, before your hips were jutting upward involuntarily to meet Yuuji’s mouth, before you could feel a mix of drool and slick and every other ungodly thing pooling on your sheets beneath you. Yuuta shifted beside you, edging close enough for his thigh to press against your arm. “You’re—You’re making a mess, she’ll be mad if—”
His voice cut out abruptly, drowned out by a sudden, bubbling moan from Yuuji. Yuuta tried to catch his attention again to the same result until, finally, there was a low growl. Yuuji yelped has his face was shoved further into the space between your thighs – Yuuta pushing down on the back of his head, as little as you wanted to picture your sweet Yuuta doing something like that – but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his lapping only seemed to get faster, more reckless, more wild. You didn’t want to, no part of you wanted to cum because of your pet’s mouth, but you could feel the pressure mounting, the heat building, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his tongue as you reached your climax.
There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from crying out as you came, any hope you might’ve had of making it through this without letting either Yuuji or Yuuta know how much of it you’d been conscious for immediately abandoned. You tried to make good use of your adrenaline, to shove Yuuji away and run, but he’d always been strong, even for a hybrid, and he didn’t even have to pull away to pin your hips to the mattress and nurse you through your orgasm, his tongue now fucking into you unabashedly. He only stopped when the last of your aftershocks had died out, when it was all you could do to lie limp and mutter all the little ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please’s that you’d pictured yourself screaming only seconds ago. Even then, the separation wasn’t made by choice – no, it was Yuuta who finally, finally dragged him off of you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see his fingers knotted in Yuuji’s untamable hair, his knuckles white and his grip steadfast. By the time he let go, Yuuji’s back was straight and he’d gone surprisingly quiet – his dark eyes glassy and fixed on yours. By the time you could force yourself to look to Yuuta, he wasn’t much better. He was focused on you, too, but he didn’t look quite as dazed, quite as mindless. His lips were parted, but his eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing the expression he’d worn when you first brought Yuuji home, all displaced resentment and palpable betrayal. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve called it anger.
Yuuji broke the silence. He whined sharply, slumping forward and kneading down where his hands were still planted on your hips. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him to get down, to get out, but Yuuta cut in before you had the chance to spit anything out. “Turn her over. It’ll be easier if she’s on her stomach.”
Yuuji didn’t hesitate. You felt his hands on your midriff, and then, you were on your chest, Yuuji’s form hunched over you as he ground something stiff and hot and leaking against your ass. You tried to push yourself up, to get away, but you were barely able to get your knees underneath you before Yuuji’s arms were around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his pointed teeth bared against the side of your throat. He didn’t growl, didn’t bite, but you went still regardless. You didn’t think Yuuji would hurt you, but you never would've thought he would do this, either.
Whatever aggression he might’ve felt faded quickly – as soon as he started rutting against your ass. You could feel him panting against your throat, his breath humid and stifling, and his chest pressing into your back. He was too close. He was too much. When he spoke, it was almost deafening, even if you knew it couldn’t be much more than a mumble. “Hurts so bad,” he muttered, as his cock ground uselessly against your ass, your thighs. “Been hurtin’ so bad since you took me home. I was so happy when Yuuta told me you could help, and—and, that you wouldn’t mind, and—”
His voice cut out abruptly as the blunt head of his cock caught on your entrance and, with a cracked whine, thrust into you. There was no time to adjust, to block out – just a sudden heat inside of you and the immediate, overwhelming fullness of his cock battering the walls of your pussy. “Off,” you half cried, half screamed – your voice a jagged, shaking mess. “Get down, stop, get—”
But Yuuji wasn’t listening. His tongue lapped clumsily at your neck as he fucked into in slow, languid thrusts – his hips slamming into your ass with enough force to bruise. You went limp, sobbing openly into your sheets, but Yuuji was strong enough to hold you up on his own, to not have to care what state you were in underneath him. So caught up in your own misery, you didn’t notice Yuuta moving until he was in front of you, until his hand had worked its way underneath your chin and tilted your head back far enough for your tear-clouded gaze to find his. His expression was that same mix of resentment and pity and bitter, bitter anger. Still, when your eyes met his, the corner of his lips quirked up, some of the harsher lines around his eyes fading into nothing.
“I wouldn’t be this rough with you.” His tone was flat, softened. He ran his thumb over your cheek, leaning down just far enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head. “I would be a good mate. You don’t need anyone else.”
Again, he leaned in, slotting his lips against yours with a feather-light sort of gentleness. At the same time, you heard Yuuji moan, felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, and started to wish you couldn’t feel anything at all.
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gutsby · 9 months ago
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Cry, Baby
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.
Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.
Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.
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Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.
“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”
You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.
You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.
Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.
“Joel—”
“Keep goin’.”
“This ain’t fair!”
Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.
“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.
He didn’t wait for you to answer.
“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”
‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.
Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.
“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.
You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.
Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.
“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.
Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.
“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.
You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.
The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.
The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.
“Sorry for what?” Joel said.
At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.
“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.
“And Lucien?”
“And Lucien.”
“And—”
“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”
Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.
“And?”
“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.
Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.
As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.
“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”
Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.
Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.
“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”
As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.
“You.” Your voice was raw.
“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.
Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.
The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.
Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.
“Cry a little more,” he urged.
Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.
“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”
It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?
You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.
Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’
You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.
His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.
In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.
It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.
Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.
You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.
He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:
“Crybaby.”
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shawtuzi · 2 months ago
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you’re the bad boy that i’ve always dreamed of ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹
here’s a little something of how plug!geto and reader went from strangers to lovers!! this will contain smut and some drug use so mdni thank yewww <3 pairing: plug!geto x black coded reader///wc:3.2k
STRANGERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊
• it was a friday night when suguru received a message from you on instagram asking for a 3.5–just from the message alone he could tell it was your first time doing this. it was cute the way you added exclamation points and a smiley face at the end of your message.
• the first time he saw you he was starstruck. it’s not even like you were dressed up, just a simple black tank top and some pink juicy couture shorts. the way you were so soft spoken and smelled so damn good—oh he wanted you, he needed you. thus began the long game of suguru trying to pursue you.
geto’s first impression of you: so damn pretty, smells like vanilla n for some amazing reason cookie dough, on the taller side, one of the most gracious people he’s ever met while dropping off some weed—srsly you said ‘thank you so so much!’ like four times before he even handed it to you, a little on the awkward side but he likes it heje.
your first impression of geto: drives a nice ass car, pulled up blasting partynextdoor so he must have good music taste, the longest n most prettiest hair you’ve ever seen on a man—you couldn’t help but wonder if it felt as soft as it looked, a little on the intimidating side but you did get a small smile out of him and mannn did he have a pretty smile, will definitely be messaging him again soon.
• the second time he dropped you off some weed he put in a little extra bc of as rn you were his favorite customer regardless if it was only your second time shopping. this time he made a little conversation:
“i like your hair, suits you really well,” it was a very mesmerizing burgundy color, reaching almost towards your bottom. you of course were very taken aback, your cheeks feeling like someone set hot coals on them. you picked at your denim skirt, trying to avoid his gaze. “thank you suguru i, uh, got it done this morning. i wasn’t so sure about the color when she finished but i’m starting to like it more and more!” you gave him a little smile, which he gratefully returned. geto scaled your weed one more time before giving it to you, his fingers brushing against any part of your hand/wrist he could touch.
“so you know how to roll?” he asked, using the elastic on his wrist to put his hair in a bun, you had to physically restrain yourself from giving it just a little touch </3 you puffed air from your cheeks, shaking your head, “nah i just use this pipe my friend gave me i’m not quite an expert at that yet.” suguru’s smile got wider at your words, now he had the perfect excuse to get you to smoke with him. he ran his tongue over his lips, a shiny ball on the center of his tongue catching your attention. “you should let me teach you how to do it sometime—ah, i mean if you want you don’t have to,” and that was the first time suguru heard you laugh and that sound might’ve gotten him higher than any strain he’s ever smoked.
“i’d love for you to teach me!”
• the third time you both saw each other it was not transactional, just a simple hotbox session. he taught you how to roll up and although it was very sweet of him to do so it was very hard to concentrate. his hands—which were both tatted tf up moved so swiftly as he packed the blunt and rolled it. don’t even get me started on the way he sealed the blunt with his tongue, there was something so sensual about it especially with the way he was looking at you. you both learned a lot about each other that night, and that my friends was the start of a beautiful friendship.
FRIENDS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊
• you and geto hanging out became a regular occurrence. he no longer charged you for weed, instead he would just send you on your way with some after each smoke sesh. every time he saw you his crush only got bigger and bigger, and he was sure he was starting to become not to subtle about it.
• every morning you woke up to a good morning text from him, followed by him bidding you a good day and to text him if you needed anything. some days he surprised you with lunch at your job, or brought takeout on nights that you invited him over to smoke. it was getting to a point if one of you didn’t hear from the other for even a day you’d think there was some tension bc you just hung out that much.
• it wasn’t often but suguru did let you hit the block with him whenever he wanted some company. you were his passenger princess—you had full control over the aux, he had some of your fav snacks in the glove compartment, and best of all he always had a preroll for you to smoke in case you got bored. sometimes if you were real bored he’d let you pack and scale the weed (he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little bit watching you do it).
• tons of ‘platonic’ hugs and cuddling. geto basically wishes he could live in your skin, you were just so soft and smelt so fucking good it gave him the worst cuteness aggression. one of your friends caught you two doing the good ol’ swaying side to side hug and from that day on they never let up on the allegations that you both had a crush on each other.
• i mentioned before that as the days went by suguru’s crush on you grew more and more and with that came his jealousy. geto considered himself a very levelheaded man, i mean with a temper like his he had to or else he’d be in jail right now. so when he saw some man come up behind you to feel you up while you were dancing with your friends livid wasn’t even the word:
“um excuse you,” you hissed attempting to push the stranger away, but before you could even touch him he was yanked away by a very angry geto. “do you touch every girl you find attractive without her permission? hm? speak the fuck up i can’t hear you,” while his words were harsh his facial expression was eerily calm, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. “i was just having a lil’ fun is all cmon sugu—” geto cut the stranger off and pointed to you, “do it look like she’s having fun right now? are you having fun y/n?” you scrunched up your nose, shaking your head. suguru kissed him teeth, glaring at the man, “now get the fuck on, seriously, you’re a good customer of mine i don’t wanna have to fuck you up yeah?” and that was the end of that.
the ride back to your place was quiet until geto spoke up, “i didn’t embarrass you did i? i know you could’ve held your own and your friends were there but—” you cut geto off with a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for just a few seconds longer than they should’ve. “you didn’t embarrass me sugu, thank you for sticking up for me i really appreciate you,” the way your eyes sparkled when you said those last four words had suguru’s heart pounding against his ribcage. you probably think he kissed you right?? WRONG MY MANS PUSSIED OUT!!!
• geto was totally convinced he fumbled his only chance to kiss you until one faithful night, during a hotbox session you lent over the console and kissed him. you’d think a lot of words would be exchanged after that but after waiting almost a year to feel your lips against his the last thing suguru wanted to do in that moment was talk. the hotbox consisted of lots of nasty kisses, suguru sloppily kissing n sucking at your neck, and a SMIDGE of dry humping.
FRIENDS W/ BENEFITS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊
• each hangout with geto after that night was filled with lots of kissing and grabbing, my man just could not keep his hands to himself even if he rlly tried. for a few weeks it never went further than dry humping, both you too scared that you’d cross a boundary.
• the first time suguru went down on you it was during your monthly movie night. you were making out, nothing out of the ordinary maybe a couple ass grabs here and there. it wasn’t until you gave a particularly rough tug to his hair that he noticed his self control was starting to crumble—he just had to indulge in you. that’s how you ended up with your legs over his broad shoulders while he made out with your pussy, making you cum four times consecutively.
•geto was obsessed after that. my mans never turned down an opportunity to eat you out—he didn’t care if it was in the car, on the floor, the shower, in front of his goddamn roommate one way or another his head was gonna end up between your plushy thighs. that tongue piercing did wonders for you, the feeling of it randomly brushing against your swollen clit always had your eyes crossing.
• now the first time you went down on geto he came down your throat a few minutes in like a goddamn virgin. of course it didn’t take long for him to get hard again and minutes later he was fucking your throat. you were taking it like a champ and he was sooo proud of you. he was a good six and half inches but incredibly thick, so thick it was almost impossible not to gag and slob all over him—but don’t worry you soon learned he likes his head very messy. you also learned that he’s a god tier praiser!!
some things he says when you give him head include: ‘that’s it babe take it nice n slow—hah! yeah jus like that’, ‘this tight ass throat is gonna make me nut already gorgeous’, ‘that’s right gorgeous take that fuckin’ dick lemme hear you choke’, ‘you’re so pretty like this—look so pretty, f-fuck don’t look at me like that or i’ll cum’ <3
• the first time you and geto had sex was after a block party, you already knew you were done for not even an hour in when suguru thought it would be a good idea to pour a shot in your mouth, his tatted hand snug against your throat as you swallowed. after that he was glued to your side the rest of the night, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. you felt people staring, mainly girls who have been trying to get at geto before you even came into the picture but you didn’t care one bit—it was even a little funny watching their fuming faces as you danced with him:
“and who’re you tryna put a show on for?” suguru whispered in your ear, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eyes. you pulled him closer by his chain, the alcohol in your system giving you a boost of confidence. “i’m just tired of those bitches staring, wanna give them something to look at since they wanna look so bad,” you whipped your head around, and sure enough those hatin ass hoes were still staring. suguru hummed, a smirk soon making its way onto his lips.
“follow me gorgeous, i wanna take you somewhere.”
• geto ended up taking you to his secret sanctum, a lookout point that had the most beautiful view of the city—a place where he can be alone with his thoughts about you. it didn’t take long for him to have you against the hood of his car, fucking into with everything his heart had to offer. you lost count of how many orgasms he got out of you, but what you do remember is the words he whispered into your ear as he finished inside you:
“wha’? what’d you say sugu?” you whispered, gently removing his face from your neck. his post-sex glow was ungodly, but there was something in his eyes that had your heart feeling heavy. “i like you. i like so you much y/n. i’m tired of being your friend, i wanna be your boyfriend n’ have you all to myself,” he said every word as slowly and clearly as possible to make sure you understood his confession. you were quiet, too quiet, it had his heart twisting with every beat of silence.
“i like you too suguru.”
LOVERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊
• suguru was the most attentive and loving boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for. he’s the kind of boyfriend where he doesn’t see why his girlfriend shouldn’t get everything she asks for, so best believe he took spoiling you to a whole other level. you needed you hair done? boom paid for. you needed your nails and toes done? he’s at the counter paying for it while you get pampered. you hungry? he’ll get you whatever you’re craving even if it means multiple stops.
• announced your relationship on his social media by posting a picture of you holding two zips of weed to your head, a geeked out smile on your glossy lips—he captioned it ‘all i need in this life of sin’ and OF COURSEEE put ‘03’ bonnie and clyde’ as the song for the background.
• suguru isn’t the biggest fan of pda but that doesn’t stop him from leaving little kisses on your shoulders or doing that one thing where he gives your hips the tiniest squeeze before wrapping his arms around you. if you get him lit enough though he’ll turn into the biggest fucking slut omg i’m talking pushing you against his front so you can feel how hard his underneath his pants, giving you a particularly sloppy kiss outta nowhere, but your favorite is when he gives you the low red eyes and lip bite combo. yup that’ll do it every time:
“n-no pda my ass you turned my cute lap dance into me—hah! almost riding you in front of—a-ah! everyoneeee fuck sugu! why’re you fucking me like that?” your mind was truly baffled at how rough and deep geto was fucking you against the bathroom stall. your words fell on deaf ears as geto fucked into you harder, the stall door thumping with every thrust. suguru groaned, shoving himself all the way in before stilling his hips. “it’s almost like you do the shit on purpose. . . wanna make me wanna lose my cool in front of everyone and act like a fucking slut just like you,” he removed his face from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. “i was chillin’ till you started do your little ‘lap dance’—had me humping on you like i was some fuckin’ virgin,” you both laughed at the last part. you brought your hands to suguru’s face, cupping his cheeks, “it’s okay babe let’s just be slutty together yeah?” geto hissed when he felt your pussy clench around his dick, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip.
“you’re so fucking nasty. . . i love it.”
• it’s safe to say that after that geto warmed up more to the idea of pda
• your family is surprisingly obsessed with suguru, he had them all under his charming spell the first time he visited your parents’ house. when talking about his place of employment he might’ve left out the fact that he sells weed on the side but he was very honest about his apprenticeship at tattoo parlor.
• speaking of him learning to be a tattoo artist, he’s the one that gave you your first tattoo. nothing too crazy just ‘worthy’ tatted on your upper thigh—it hurt like a bitch but he praised you the whole way through it. this eventually lead to him eating you out after he was done to reward you for handling it like a champ <3
• the first time suguru says i love you is after he comes home from a little scuffle and you being the angel you were tended to him. it was so random yet rolled off his tongue so easily, it just felt right. you were shocked but nonetheless so happy to hear those three words from him, you returned them of course followed by a loving kiss. this is also the first time suguru has ever made love to you—hell made love to anyone:
“this is so nice—shit, why haven’t we ever done this before baby?” suguru was breathless, borderline gasping for air at how good you felt. as much as he considered himself to be a lover boy geto has never quite made love—at least not like this. everything was so slow, yet so sensual and filled with so much love he could’ve teared up. you paused your assault on his neck, removing your face to look up at him and wow you’ve never looked more beautiful. you had the tiniest pout on your lips—a silent plea for him to give you a kiss, which he happily gave you. “you’re so deep sugu. . .‘feel you in my stomach,” you gasped when you felt his tip hit a particularly deep spot inside you, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. suguru whined—yes you heard me WHINED when he heard you say that, his already slow pace faltering slightly. “don’t say shit like that please baby—shiiit, m’tryna last,” his hand was holding onto your hip so tightly it would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. you kissed your way from his jaw to his neck once more, sucking on the spot just below his ear. “let go sugu, want you to finish inside me—ngh! make me feel warm,” you whispered the last part in his ear and that’s what finally did it. with one final stroke geto whispered those three words in your ear, making shivers travel up your spine.
“i love you more suguru <3”
BONUS (a little aftercare scene bc i can’t help myself)
after making love to you geto couldn’t help himself and fucked you so damn silly you couldn’t move a limb after he was finished with you. “that was a little much wasn’t it?” you groaned, scooting your body to be closer to him. suguru chuckled, giving your forehead three sweet kisses. “i couldn’t help myself babe, i was filled with sooo much love i just had to let it out,” you squealed when he slapped your ass, his hand gripping onto the flesh roughly. you lifted your head up to glare at him, the pout on your face making him coo, annoying you even more. “did my pussy have to be the victim of it? i can’t stand you. . . or your stupid dick,” you grumbled, poking at his now soft dick. geto smushed your cheeks together, pulling your face closer to his, “now you know you don’t mean that.” a smirk tugged at his lips when you didn’t respond, “that’s what i thought now c’mere and lemme hold you.” you huffed, laying your head on his chest, the dull sounding beat his heart making you drowsier by the minute.
“i love you so much y/n.”
THE END ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊
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moonstruckme · 4 months ago
Note
Hey so i have a request and you can totally say no if this makes you uncomfortable but would you consider writing a poly marauders x reader where the readers depressed and can’t get anything done im asking cause I’ve been. Going through something and i thought id be okay by now but I’ve kinda regressed idk and now im depressed idk pls don’t write this if its to hard or upsetting
Thank you for your request lovely, I really hope things are getting easier for you or that they do soon <3
cw: depression
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 984 words
You realize the boys must be home when Remus crouches in front of you. You hadn’t heard the car come up the driveway, nor the door opening. You were too deep inside your own head. Or maybe you’d drifted off into another of your light, unsatisfying sleeps. 
“Hi.” He offers you a little smile, putting out his hand. You worm yours out from under your blanket to give it to him, and he rubs his thumb across your knuckles fondly. “How was your day, lovely?” 
“Fine,” you say. Your voice rasps a bit from disuse. 
“I’m opening the curtains,” James warns from somewhere behind you. “Here, take these.” 
Sirius’ grunt sounds surprised. “Since when is carrying in the groceries a relay sport?” he complains. 
True to James’ word, light floods the living room a moment later. It illuminates Remus’ face in front of you, letting you see the gentle concern in his eyes. His gaze moves up above your head just before strong hands grasp you by the shoulders. 
“I missed you,” says James, hugging downwards at you until he gives up and lets his body flop over the back of the couch, “so much, today.” 
You pet down the hair at his nape, love like a bubble in your chest that’s always on the brink of popping. You love the way James hugs; it’s like he really is trying to feel as close to you as he can be, with his face bent towards your neck and one hand splayed behind your heart. You let yourself meld to him. Remus starts collecting your little mess from the coffee table, taking things into the kitchen.
“It was only a few hours,” you say. 
James makes a jokey harrumphing sound. “A few hours too many.” He lets you go to plant a smacking kiss on your cheek. “If you could have one thing for dinner tonight, what would it be?” 
“I thought we agreed to stop playing that game,” says Sirius, coming back in to sit down on the armrest of the couch. He sees where you’re toying with James’ hair and takes a lock between his own fingers. “You need a haircut, Jamie.” 
“You’re one to talk,” James quips, though he leans into the touch, always more than happy to have his hair played with. “And we only agreed to stop playing with you, because your expectations were too high.” 
“They were not.” 
“Why would you think we’d be able to get what we needed for escargot at our corner shop?” 
“If you didn’t want to know what I actually wanted, you shouldn’t have asked.” 
“Anyway,” James turns back to you, “what would you have, lovie?” 
“And before you say,” says Sirius, “the correct answer is tomato basil soup with a cheese toastie.”
James sulks, thwarted, and you stroke your thumb over his nape consolingly. “That sounds really lovely,” you say earnestly. “Was I really supposed to guess that on my own, though?” 
“You might’ve,” he mumbles. “Anyway, I was thinking you could be my soup stirrer. If you’re up for the task.” 
It’s an odd feeling, affection and guilt intertwined so well you can’t fully tell which is which. You know James is making a point of asking you so that you might come to the kitchen, be among them for a bit instead of staying off in your own world, do a task that makes you feel productive even if it’s small. You appreciate that he does it, and you loathe yourself for making him feel the need to. You wish your boyfriends wouldn’t coddle you not because you don’t like it but because you like it too much. You don’t deserve it. 
“Hey.” Sirius’ voice draws you back out from inside your head again. It’s become such a frequent haunt you don’t always realize you’re going anymore. He’s studying you. “You okay?” 
You hum as Remus comes back in, sitting on the now clean coffee table. “Thanks for doing that,” you murmur. His eyebrows lift slightly when he realizes you’re talking to him. “Sorry I left a mess.” 
Remus tsks, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair from your forehead. “It wasn’t really a mess,” he says. “I don’t mind. Are you going to help us with dinner?” 
“Yeah.” It’s not so much a decision as a yielding, but James beams like you’ve made his day. It makes you want to cry. 
Sirius wraps an arm around your waist when you get up to go to the kitchen, squeezing the fat of your hip lovingly. “Think I’ll take up the duty of stirring the soup, too,” he says to you. “Seems like a two-person job.” 
“Probably, yeah.” You let yourself lean into his side. He takes your weight happily, mushing a kiss into your hair. “Sorry I’m so lame lately,” you tell him quietly. “You guys don’t need to coddle me so much.” 
“You’re not lame, who said that?” Sirius jostles you a little bit. When you don’t laugh, he changes his approach, leaning his head against yours. “We’re not coddling you, sweetheart. You’re just in a rut right now, yeah? And we’re meeting you where you’re at.” 
He makes it sound so simple, but your throat clogs with the true difficulty of it all. When you reply your voice is thick. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get out.” 
“You will,” he promises surely. “I don’t know how long it might take, but it’ll happen. And if whatever we’re doing isn’t working for you, we can figure something else out, okay? We’re with you.” 
When James says it’s your time to stir, Sirius insists on standing behind you and holding your hand that’s holding the spoon. Remus rolls his eyes at the idea of it being a two-person job, but you don’t know. You think maybe it takes all four of you to make it work.
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kamiversee · 6 months ago
Text
˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗
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4 | be true.
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❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.
❧ Content | language, oral sex (f!recieving), dirty talk, mild filth, pet names, sexual tension, etc.
❧ Word Count | 6.1k
❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.
| Chapters mlist |
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——Upstairs, your back was meeting a wall as soon as you and Gojo were out of anyone’s line of sight. Lips crashing into yours, an eager set of hands latched to your waist, and a large body pressing into yours, Gojo was all over you within seconds. You could hardly process what was going on with how fast he was moving.
His lips were on yours one moment and then your neck the next moment– sucking, licking, kissing, and even nipping at your skin like he simply couldn’t get enough of you. Gojo had his hands touching every inch of your body from your waist to your thighs, squeezing and gripping onto the fabric of your dress that stood between him and your soft skin.
Maybe it was the fact that he finally had you to himself for a moment or maybe it was the way you sounded as he touched you but either way, he was hungry for you. “Fuck,” Gojo practically seers into your skin, his breath hot as it trickled down along your neck.
Then there was the way you were reciprocating his eagerness, your arms all around his neck, gripping onto him and tugging him closer as if his body wasn’t already sandwiched against yours. You’d slide a hand up into his hair and grip onto him as he worked a careless hickey onto the side of your neck and he’d groan against you.
Everything about you was so damn intoxicating– from the way you smelt to the way you felt, Gojo just wanted more and more and more of you. Simply kissing you and marking you up like this was never going to be enough, he’d lose his damn mind at the rate this was going. Which is exactly why he’s crouching down a bit just to grab ahold of your thighs and lift you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as your body slides up against the wall.
At that point, Gojo’s hips grind forward and you moan far louder than you mean to at the way his hard cock presses against you through the layers of clothing.
“S-Shit, you’re so-,” You couldn’t even get the words out before he was lifting from your neck and crashing his lips into yours yet again, nodding his head to acknowledge your unfinished statement and letting out a grunt as he rolled his hips forward.
Hell, he had half a mind to fuck you right then and there against the wall in the middle of the hallway, despite his bedroom being just a few steps away. And he might’ve actually done that if not for the sound of his mother’s voice coming from the stairs. She sounded as though she were making her way up and Gojo pried himself away from your lips with a huff.
“Fuck.” He curses, rolling his eyes before glancing over to the stairway. Gojo takes a moment to think before he’s looking at you again, watching the way you’re panting and catching that lustful little look in your eyes.
Yeah, he wasn’t about to let his parents stop him from getting something-, anything from you by the end of the night… even if it was a little risky. So, with that thought, he holds onto the underside of your thighs a bit tighter before carrying you away and rushing toward his room.
He’s pretty sure he heard someone, most likely his mother, call his name from somewhere down the hall just as he kicked his bedroom door shut but he’s all too wrapped up in you to care.
So when your back hits his mattress and his lips collide with yours again, you’re far too dazed to care about anything aside that’s not Gojo Satoru. His lips are wet against yours, tongue slipping and slotting so perfectly into your mouth while he rolls his hips down into your clothed cunt yet again– groaning into your mouth due to how hard he is.
Gojo eventually pulls away from your lips and a loud and wet smack echoes into the air. He’s panting, you’re panting– both of you sound as though you just ran a damn marathon and all you’ve done was make out with each other. As your eyes meet him, you notice how starved he looks.
“Satoru,” You utter in a small little whisper, to which he starts to sit back on his heels and reach for his tie.
Cocking his head to the side, Gojo raises a brow at you, “Hm? What? Y’need me?” His voice is so husking and aroused that it alone makes you want to squeeze your legs together.
You gulp, “Uhuh…”
The slightest smirk pulls at the corner of his lips just as his tie is tugged completely off and tossed to the side. Narrowed blue eyes never leaving yours, Gojo sighs, “Where?”
Your lashes bat up at the man almost in disbelief. Such a question had a very obvious answer to it and yet he wanted you to be vocal about it. You don’t think you’ve felt this shy in the face of someone in a long time. So much so that all you could do was start trailing your hand down along your body.
Almost in slow motion, Gojo’s eyes are steady to leave yours and follow your hand, smiling at your lack of words to him. A little scoff escapes him and just as your hand reaches riiight past your abdomen, he grabs ahold of it and lifts it to his face, planting a light kiss on your palm.
“I asked you a question, pretty girl,” Gojo whispers all too gently, “I want you to tell me where, not show me.”
You end up pouting ever so slightly and his cock twitches. “You know where, Satoru…” You utter to the man.
He nods, “Mhm, I do. But I want you to say it. Tell me where you need me,” As he talks, he’s releasing your hand and reaching down along your leg, steadily working your heels off of your feet and maintaining eye contact with you. “You want me to make you cum, don’t you?”
Your throat is so unbelievably dry right now that it’s almost embarrassing, “Y-Yeah…” With another gulp, you try to sound as confident as you can but your voice still comes out small, “I want you to-”
He’s cutting you off all over again, your shoes tossed elsewhere just as his tie was before he hovers his body over yours again. A finger is placed to your chin and he forces you to keep looking up at him, “Speak up,” Gojo orders, “I wanna hear you loud ‘nd clear, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”
“Anything,” You practically breathe the word out, desperation dripping off your tone just as you were dripping between your thighs.
Gojo raises a brow, “Anything?”
“M-Mhm,” You couldn’t think straight enough to voice your needs by this point.
As such, he stares at you for a few more seconds, teasing you by looking back and forth between your lips and then your eyes before he cracks a lazy grin. Then Gojo’s leaning down to you again, gently pushing his lips into yours one last time.
After which he slides over and down to your jawline, peppering your skin with wet and warm kisses. Then it’s under your jaw, then your collarbone, and then his hands are exploring you again. His fingertips are light against you while he moves to the straps of your dress, carefully slipping them down your shoulders. His fingers then find their way under you just to unzip your dress and you swear he’s moving slowly on purpose.
Gojo kisses down along the center of your throat as your dress is unzipped and you help him to get the item off of you completely. To which he practically loses any sense of slowness once his eyes are met with more of your skin. Lips are all over you in seconds, opened-mouthed kisses pressed into every inch of you whilst he relishes in your soft little gasps and the way you squirm once he starts kissing your stomach.
The lower he gets, the more eager you become– parting your legs further for him and reaching your hands behind you to unclasp your bra. Gojo had his eyes closed for a moment but they snapped open once your bra was removed and his lips were wrapping around your nipple without second thought. 
His free hand gropes your not-so-forgotten breast and he sucks hard at your sensitive bud, listening closely for that small whine leaving your lips. Oh if you weren’t every bit of perfection then he doesn’t know what is. Gojo can’t even think about himself when you’re like this underneath him.
All that he can process right now is making you feel good and having you moan his name as soon as possible. Which is why his hand eventually leaves your tits and trails down, fingers dancing over the fabric of your panties just to tease you with a firm press against your cunt.
“‘Toru,” You gasp and so badly did you want to snap your legs shut but he was positioned right in between them so that surely wasn’t happening. 
Gojo pops off of your, now saliva-coated, nipple and flashes a smile at you, “‘Toru, huh?” He teases, his finger pressing more firmly in between your folds and against the fabric as your slick seeps through and coats his fingers, “Yeah, keep callin’ me that, pretty girl.”
He feels the way you immediately twitch against his fingertips and he can’t help but see just how worked up he can get you from his words alone, “What? Y’like that, huh? Like it when I call you pretty?”
You let out a small hum, “M-Mhm…”
Gojo starts feeling around with that finger of his, slipping against your folds and wetting up his finger with a small smile on his face, “Y’like it when I talk to you too apparently…” He comments before glancing down at his hand to see the way your hips keep lifting ever so slightly, “Hah, didn’t know my voice would make you throb this much.”
“Shut up,” You gasp and he rubs over your cunt in small maddening little circles
“Why? You’re wettin’ up my fingers ‘nd I’m barely even touchin’ you but you want me to shut up?” Gojo scoffs at you, “C’mon, baby, admit it,” His smile only grows the more you pout and furrow your brows at him, “You like my voice.”
You let out a little groan, “Satoru…”
Gojo simply stares at you, raising his brows ever so slightly as if to test you, “I’m not gonna do anything ‘til you admit it, pretty girl.”
“Okay, yes,” You sigh as you reach a hand down to his and try to guide him further against you, “I like your voice.”
“Yeah?” He smirks, glancing down at your poor attempt at forcing his fingers to move beneath the fabric of your panties. 
Nodding, “Uhuh,” You mumble out, both of you meeting each other’s gaze at the same time.
He looks so enamored by you and how every little touch earns a cute reaction from you, “What else do you like about me?”
“I like your fingers,” You utter softly.
Gojo quirks a brow, “Do you?”
“Mhm,” You start nodding and a small smile grows on your face, “You should put ‘em to use instead of teasin’ me s’much.”
He nearly groans at your words alone but manages to swallow it down. Instead, Gojo tilts his head and chastises you with that damn grin of his, “Ohh, she remembered how to talk, I see.”
Your eyes roll in the slightest bit of annoyance, “Satoru, please.”
“Please what?” His hand starts to retract from your body and you think you let out a whine, “Use your words ‘nd be specific, c’mon.” Gojo says.
Huffing an all too impatient, “Touch me,” He gulps at the sound of your voice already as breathy as ever.
“Touch you?” He echoes, eyes searching your face for something. You just nod and he smirks again, finally slipping his hand under your panties and quickly finding your clit with his fingertips. “Like this?” Gojo hushes out to you.
“Fuck, y-yes…” You’re stammering already, a fuzzy sensation of pleasure shooting throughout your body at his raw touch against you, “Like that.”
“Mmh,” He hums as if to mock you, his fingers rubbing such careful circles over your clit, “Couple’ kisses got you this wet?” He asks.
You let out a sigh, “You know it was more than the kisses.”
His eyes are all over your expression as he eases his finger further down, slipping one into your hole and watching the way your breath hitches. “Was it?” Gojo whispers with his breath tickling the side of your face.
He’s so close to you that it’s hard not to be hyper-aware of every sensation he brings you. That single finger of his is steady to work a slow pace in and out of your pussy whilst he takes note of every furrow of your brow and each breath he steals from you.
Gojo soon murmurs out your name and he feels your cunt twitch around his finger, faint slick sounds hitting both of your ears as he fingers you, “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy all day,” He grunts near your ear, “Haven’t stop thinkin’ about you for even a second, y’know.”
You nearly crack a smile at that, “T-Thinkin’ about me or… hah, or this?” Your voice is a bit breathier than you would’ve preferred as his fingertip presses firmly into your g-spot.
“Am I allowed to say both?” Gojo hums. His voice is so soft with you now— obviously aroused, but soft nonetheless.
That is, until he drags his finger out of you and brings it to his lips. Popping his digit into his mouth, Gojo sucks the taste of you off of his skin and releases a satisfied hum.
Nearly moaning, he pushes himself up and you watch as he seamlessly repositions himself in between your legs with his eyes glued to your cunt twitching behind the fabric of your panties. You were so soaked and breathless that he simply couldn’t get enough of you.
“Both might be a lie,” He hums lowly, “I’ve definitely had this,” His chin nods toward your sex and you watch his hands shift to tug your panties off, “On my mind like crazy…” Hell, he was practically drooling as the fabric was peeled away from your sex.
With not another moment spared and giving you no time to reply to that, a fat wad of spit is shot to your pussy in such a messy manner that it has you flinching in surprise. Your eyes widen slightly as you peer down at the starved Gojo whose gaze is stuck in mere awe of your sloppy cunt.
He doesn’t know if it was the way he just spit on you or simply you being so damn wet but your pussy was practically dripping all over the place. So much so that Gojo was drooling within seconds, flicking his eyes up to you purposefully as he pushes his lips forward and latches them onto your cunt. His tongue is quick to follow but you think it’s the intensity of his eye contact that has you gasping.
A sharp pair of blue eyes narrow at your pleased expression whilst Gojo seamlessly puts his mouth to work. For once, he wasn’t being slow and teasing you to the brink of insanity— instead, his lips were parting over your cunt and he was sucking your sweet taste into his mouth.
Groaning at the flavor-, the taste of you and the way you sound moaning ever so softly, Gojo swore that he’d found heaven just now. He struggled not to have his eyes roll to the back of his head once his tongue began to lap every drop of you up, slicking all in between your wet folds and devouring you like you were his final meal.
And he’s such a messy eater too, widening how far open his mouth is just to bury his tongue inches deep into you and draw every candied drop of your taste out. He’s practically moaning into your pussy after the first two minutes, barely pulling away to breathe and muttering filthy nothings into you.
“S-So fuckin’… mmh, sweet,” Gojo’s words were slurring together, his eyes dazed and his lips slipping against you as he grumbled into you, “Could’-, agh… Could’ eat this pussy all damn day…” There’s drool slipping from the corner of his mouth, or perhaps it was your slick but either way, the bottom half of his face is practically glistening.
Gojo’s quick to dive right back in, your hand gripping onto his hair for dear life as you release soft moans and your hips buck up into his mouth. His larger hands meet your hips and it was almost as if he were helping your hips up against his lips, craving for more and more of your taste. He’s gulping your wetness down, lapping his tongue so messily against your cunt that it has your body twitching, and groaning so very shamelessly that it makes you all the more wet for him.
“S-, hah… Satoru,” You pant, toes curling with how skillful his tongue worked against you.
The man would’ve lost himself if not for that soft call of his name. He lifts his mouth but his fingers are quick to make up for it, two long and thick digits slipping deep into your pussy with one filthy squelch as he cocks his head to the side.
He was so stupidly handsome, even right now as half of his face drips in you and your slick. Hair all dishielved with your hand loosely lost within it, his pretty rose-tinted lips parted as soft pants left his throat, beautiful blue eyes almost doe-like whilst he made eye-contact with you all over again, and his voice as husky as ever once he finally spoke to you again, “Pullin’ me away already, sweets?” Gojo taunts.
And you swear you hate the way he smirks oh so lazily, his fingers curling into that sappy sweet spot inside you and ripping a moan from you.
“Didn’t even make you cum yet, c’mon,” He continues with his taunting.
You’d have rolled your eyes at him in annoyance if it weren’t for the way he starts finger fucking you better than you ever have yourself— drawing his digits back and back until his fingertips are grazing your puffy folds just to thrust them back in deep and fast, working up such a rude pace against your walls. You had his skin glistening, slick dripping all over his hand, down to his wrist, then the bed. It was a complete mess— you were a complete mess.
And god if he didn’t love every second of it. Hearing you gasp out, “S-Shit, ‘Toru… hah, fuck.. I…” He knows you have no intentions of finishing that statement of yours but it was cute watching you try to talk to him.
Gojo’s smirk merely widens, “Mhm, I know, I know, feels good, huh?” He coos, feeling your cunt clench around his fingers and letting him know the effect his words have on you. “Y’like that?” He teases further.
Then your legs started to try closing on him and he swears his cock twitches like crazy at your little attempt. He could only imagine what it’d be like to actually fuck you, picturing his dick stuffed perfectly inside your snug cunt, watching you take every inch and telling you how fucking good you feel— praising you for taking him so well, urging you to moan louder for him regardless of the not-so-forgot party downstairs. 
So lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize how fast his fingers are dipping in and out of your pussy until your moans grow lighter and you start trying to push his hand away.
Gojo shifts, moving his free hand to your leg to keep you spread open for him as he hovers most of his body over yours. His fingers rub against your gummy walls with vigor as his face nears yours.
“Satoru,” You call out all too breathlessly.
He tilts his head at you and mushes his fingertips against your g-spot just to watch your eyes flicker back, “Uhuh… You close?” He murmurs to you, “Gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty girl? C’mon, show me how filthy this pussy can get f’me.”
You nearly groan as you try to stop the whine leaving your wet lips, “S-Shut up… Fuck,” Your eyes dart away from his.
He was too close to your face, taking in your every slight change in expression all because he wanted to remember what you looked like cumming on his fingers. Leaning down, Gojo’s lips brush over your ear and his fingers increase in pace— the veins on his hand popping out with how fast his fingers are moving, “Do I have to beg you for it? Hm?” He whispers into the shell of your ear.
You shudder a bit before your back starts arching up off of the bed, you were so fucking close, “W-What?”
“Y’wanna hear me say please?” He continues talking with this soft tone in your ear, “Please cum f’me, make a mess on my fuckin’ fingers, baby. Give it t’me. I need it,” His last statement comes out in a low groan and you were right there.
Core tensing, legs twitching, whispers of his name leaving your lips— all to be interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. Almost as if this was expected, Gojo’s quick to move his hand from your leg and to your mouth, muffling that final filthy cry of his name as you cum all over his fingers.
Despite the knock, his digits continue and he glances at his bedroom door, answering in a breathless, “Yeah?”
“Satoru, there are people downstairs looking for you,” The sound of his mother’s voice makes you so unbelievably paranoid.
You’re pretty sure the door wasn’t locked and she could just burst in and find the two of you like this at any given moment. Gojo doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried though, looking at you with a smug smirk as his fingers continue inside you and you whimper against his palm.
“Bit’ busy right now,” Gojo scoffs in response, his eyes wandering over to the door just to see the shadow below shift a little, “I’ll be down soon.”
“Busy with what?” His mother huffs back in response, the sound of the doorknob being touched causing your heart to pound in your chest.
Your eyes widen and you send Gojo a frantic look, to which his smirk only widens further as he curls his finger deeper into you and his palm presses against your lips harder to thoroughly muffle the cry of pleasure you let out. “I’m uh,” He clicked his tongue as he glanced at you, “Takin’ care of somethin’, I’ll be down in a bit.”
The sound of his mom scoffing could be heard and Gojo merely leans down to your ear. He starts whispering things to you and you end up missing whatever scolding words his mother was huffing out from the other side of his bedroom door.
“This is kinda’ exciting, no?” Gojo hushes out to you, making your brows furrow in frustration.
Oh he was so very cruel, driving his lengthy fingers in and out and in and out, so skillfully, so sinfully, so damn pleasureful. Hell, you don’t even think you’ve ever fingered yourself this damn good. He has you gasping against his palm, one of your hands shaky as you grip onto one of his wrists. Your eyes were all teary and his low voice in your ear wasn’t making the situation any better.
Gojo sighs, “I wonder what she’d think if she walked in on us like this,” He says casually, taking a pause to hear his mother still ranting about how important this event is for his family. 
You let off a whine of his name as you feel yet another orgasm building up, your legs trembling slightly.
“Shh, shh, don’t be too loud, pretty girl,” Gojo murmurs into your ears as his fingers slow down ever so slightly, caressing the depths of your cunt and coaxing that orgasm out of you, “You wouldn’t wan’ her t’hear how much of a slut you’re bein’ right now, would ya’?”
You groan at his degrading yours and he feels the way you pout against his hand.
“Satoru!” His mother shouts slightly and you can hear the doorknob beginning to turn followed by a knock on the door.
He’s still smirking though, as if he knows something you don’t. “Hurry up ‘nd cum f’me before she walks in,” Gojo sighs, fingertips prodding against your g-spot as your slick messes up nearly the entirety of his hand.
Then, he starts moving his hand away from your lips and you whine his name immediately, “S-Satoru.. hahh…”
Gojo moves so that he can meet your gaze, his eyes as intimate as ever with you, “C’mon, give it t’me. Jus’ one more.”
His mom could be heard banging on the door a bit and your heart was in a damn frenzy at this point. Too dazed to wonder why the hell she hadn’t just burst into the room yet and too fucked out to fathom the possibility that Gojo had locked the door. All you could process was Gojo’s blue eyes on yours and his fingers dipping in and out of your pussy.
Then he’s pressing kisses to your jawline, sucking softly against your skin and every sensation simply builds up at once. You’re stuttering his name out as you come undone for yet another time, hearing him praise you as he strokes you through it and completely ignores his mom.
“Uhuh, that’s it,” Gojo whispers, kissing the side of your neck, “Good girl.” He practically purrs, driving you all the way off the edge.
“‘T-Toru, you… hah… y-your-,” You get cut off by him shushing you again before he draws his digits out of your sloppy hole.
Gojo sits back on his heels and almost expectantly brings his fingers to his mouth, moaning as he sucks your taste off of his skin. “Yeah, yeah, I know, my mom. She’ll be alright, don’t worry about her.” He sighs.
You merely shut your eyes at that, moving to close your legs and relax yourself on his bed as you collect your breath. “Fuck,” You sigh after a second or two, “Y-You’re crazy.”
“Am I?” He teases, smirking as he slips off of the bed and attempts to recollect his disheveled state. You try to move and do the same thing but he puts a hand up, “You don’t have to move yet, y’know. I’ll go handle my mom really quickly and come back to you.”
Your eyes widen slightly, “Come back to me to do what? Finish where we left off?”
He shakes his head, “Nah, we’re done for the night. I wouldn’t be able to fuck you properly without bein’ interrupted.”
You blink, “But-“
“No buts,” He sighs, backing away toward the door, “I’m gonna handle my mom, come back and make sure you’re good, and thenn… we can uh, get back to the party or something.”
It was almost as if he had this all planned out. Was this really all he wanted to do tonight? Not that you’re complaining but, you were kind of looking forward to him actually fucking you. 
Instead of saying anything to him though, you simply nod and he flashes you a brief smile. Then, he waits for you to pull a cover over yourself before he opens the door and steps out to talk to his mom.
As you’re left there for a while, you just wonder if he really did have this all planned beforehand. Would he have fucked you if his mom didn’t interrupt or was his goal to only give you pleasure from the beginning? Maybe you’re overthinking it a bit too much but it did seem odd. He had no problem fingering you with his mother on the other side of the door so what would be so different if his cock was inside you?
You sigh— maybe you’re just being needy. It’s not like he didn’t get you off, he focused on you for the night and there should be nothing wrong with that. Maybe you’re the problem right now because you’re definitely still aching for more. Or hell, maybe you’re just eager to get dicked down.
You know Gojo’s is big too, you felt it so prominently against you. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh as you replay that feeling of him grinding down against you, picturing what it’d be like if he was grinding his cock into you instead. How he’d probably have your legs pressed up against your chest, fucking you deep and hard while staring right into your eyes, telling you how pretty you are as he-
“Okay, now that that’s handled,” The sound of Gojo’s voice makes you jump out of your daze and your lashes flutter as you glance around the room until you spot him. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?”
He walks over to the bed and swipes your dress up off of the floor as he makes his way toward you, quick to hold the item out for you once he’s approached the side of the bed.
You slowly sit up and take it from him, the two of you making brief eye contact before you look away.
He laughs at you before watching as you get yourself dressed, reaching a hand out to help you every now and then. Once you’re all dressed, he makes sure you look presentable and you do the same for him, fixing his hair up a bit whilst he stares at you as if he has hearts in his eyes.
When the two of you are done, you leave his bedroom together like nothing ever happened. A stop is made to the nearest bathroom to further freshen yourselves up but afterward, you two make it downstairs and back to the party like it was nothing.
· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·
If there was one thing you liked about Gojo, it was his ability to act so casually about nearly everything. How he could go from making you moan his name to laughing in front of elders at some joke that really wasn’t all that funny. It was so intriguing to you, especially since the rest of the night with him went by so smoothly.
The most he’d tease you with is a glance or two, sending you a wink every now and then or a little smirk, especially if he caught you stumbling in your steps— even if that had nothing to do with his actions and you had clearly tripped over something.
As such, your night with Gojo eventually comes to an end and he’s driving you to your apartment. It truly was as if nothing had even happened and you kinda liked that. Even though deep down inside you wanted more. Lord knows if Choso wasn’t home you would’ve dragged Gojo inside your apartment and probably begged him to f-
“This is you, right?” Like earlier, the sound of Gojo’s voice brings you out of your dirty thoughts and you blink back into reality, glancing at your apartment door and nodding in response to his question.
“Y-Yeah, yes,” You stammer, “This is me.”
Gojo lets out a hum before he looks you up and down, taking note of how often your attention seems to drift away from the present. He starts wondering what it is you could possibly be thinking about so much but he shrugs his questions away, “Alright well,” He tilts his head, “I’ll call you when I get home.”
You turn to look up at him, “Drive safe.”
There’s another little moment between the two of you, lots of eye contact, little words spoken, and fuzzy feelings floating around. Both of you open your mouths to say something at the same time but you get cut off by your apartment door swinging open.
You jump in surprise and Gojo plainly glances over, both of you looking at Choso whose face is as expressionless as ever. An awkward pause passes before Choso scoffs, “Are you two gonna jus’ stare at me all fuckin’ night, or are you,” He looks directly at you, “Gonna come inside?”
You let out a sigh and gently touch Gojo’s arm, “Shut up,” You huff out to your best friend and then glance to Gojo one last time, “Night’ Satoru.”
He’s quick to look at you and smile, “Night’ sweetheart.”
The sound of Choso obnoxiously gagging in disgust can be heard but both you and Gojo ignore him. Then, you pull away from Gojo, send Choso a glare, and brush past him to enter your apartment. Because of the way you brush past your best friend and don’t catch how both men watch you enter the apartment, their eyes raking all over your back profile.
Up until you’re out of sight and Choso turns back to Gojo. The two practically glare at one another before the corner of Choso’s lips twitch and he makes this mocking expression, backing away into the apartment with a look that says he knows something Gojo doesn’t. Gojo’s brows furrow before Choso shoots his middle finger up at him and slams the door in his face.
Gojo stands there for a second, simply baffled by whatever that was Choso just did. Was that look supposed to mean something? Was he implying something? Gojo doesn’t know why but the whole thing ticks him off a bit as he scoffs and walks off.
Meanwhile, Choso shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he locks the door and turns in search of where you’ve gone. He soon spots you in the kitchen and walks to the counter just to lean against it and silently watches you up until you glance back and scrunch your face up at him.
“Are you gonna stare at me all fuckin’ night?” You huff out, mocking his words from earlier.
Choso smirks, “Lookin’ at you gives me a headache so, no.”
“Oh fuck you-“
“How’d things go?” He cuts off, gesturing back to the front door, “Did he fuck you to tears like you wanted?”
You shrug a bit and turn to the fridge, “Yes and no.” Choso stares at the back of your head and you chuckle, “He fingerfucked me and gave me head though.” 
Those words cause Choso’s eyebrows to raise in slight surprise, “Yeah? How was it?”
You’re searching in the fridge for something to snack on as you answer him, “It was great, he was great. I-“
“How many times did he make you cum?” Choso’s sudden question makes the gears in your head freeze along with the rest of your body. After your little pause, your brows push together and you slowly turn around just to see him still leaning forward against the counter, scrolling mindlessly through his phone as if he didn’t ask you anything strange.
And technically speaking, he really didn’t. You’re both adults, you’ve had these kinds of conversations before. Though, it still felt a bit different for some odd reason.
“Uhm, twice but we were interrupted so,” You shrug again and Choso hums to acknowledge your answer.
Then, just before you look away from him, his eyes flick up from his phone to you and he speaks so nonchalantly that it has your face getting all hot, “That’s it?”
Okay, yeah, Choso’s had you flustered before but you’re unsure what it was about those two little words that made you so-
“Coulda’ came a lot more if you asked me for some head, y’know,” Choso continues, eyes dead set on yours and his face void of anything remotely playful.
“I-,” You chuckle nervously, “What?”
When did the room grow so tense? And why does it look and sound like Choso’s not joking at all? It’s not his first time suggesting those kinds of things, of course, but still. The two of you continue to stare at each other for a long moment before Choso lets out a heavy sigh.
He shuts his phone off and pockets it before standing up straight and tipping his head to the side.
Then, Choso shrugs, “Jus’ sayin’…” He murmurs as he steps around the counter and nears you, “If you wanted someone to eat you out so badly, you could’ve come to me,” You gulp as he soon comes to a stop right in front of you and you swear your heart skips a beat at his next statement, “My tongue works.”
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solxamber · 1 month ago
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1800-Curse-Control || Lilia Vanrouge
You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.
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“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”
Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”
You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”
“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”
“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”
“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”
“Absolutely not.”
“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”
You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.
“…How much are we charging?”
“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”
“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”
“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”
You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”
Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”
By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.
You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.
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The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.
“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.
With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”
“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”
You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”
“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”
“Okay, and?”
“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”
You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”
“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”
“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”
“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”
“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.
When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.
“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”
Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”
You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”
“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”
“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.
“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.
He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.
Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”
“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.
Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”
Riddle’s death glare answered that question.
“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”
Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”
Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”
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The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.
You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”
Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”
You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”
“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.
You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”
“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”
“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”
“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”
“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.
Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”
Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”
“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”
Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”
“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”
“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”
“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”
The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.
“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”
“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”
“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”
The orb started vibrating violently.
“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.
You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”
When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.
“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”
Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”
Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”
Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”
You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.
“This should work,” he said cheerfully.
The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.
“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”
Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”
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The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.
“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”
Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”
Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”
“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”
“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”
“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”
“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”
Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”
“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”
You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”
A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”
“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”
“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”
“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”
“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”
“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”
“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.
Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”
“But of course!”
“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”
“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”
“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”
Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”
“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”
You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”
“Anything!”
“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”
“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”
“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”
The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.
“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”
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Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.
"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."
You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"
"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."
Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"
Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."
Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"
You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"
"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.
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Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.
Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.
"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.
"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.
"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.
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It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.
Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.
It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.
"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"
Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.
You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.
"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.
"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."
But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?
He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."
"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.
Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."
"Shut up, Jamil."
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It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.
As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.
"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"
"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.
He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"
"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.
Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.
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The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.
“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”
“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”
Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”
“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”
Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”
“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.
Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”
“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”
You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”
“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.
Deuce nodded frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”
“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”
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The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.
You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.
“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”
“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.
Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”
“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”
Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”
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Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.
Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.
“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.
“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”
Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”
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When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”
You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”
Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”
Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”
Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.
Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”
“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.
But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”
Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”
He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”
You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.
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Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.
“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.
“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.
“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”
“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.
“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.
The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.
You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.
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You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.
Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.
Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.
Wait, what?
You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—
Oh, no.
“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”
You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”
Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”
You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”
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Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.
“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”
Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”
“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”
“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”
He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”
Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.
After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”
You froze. “What are you saying?”
Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”
You stared at Malleus in horror.
“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”
“Precisely.”
“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”
Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”
You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”
Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”
You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.
“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.
You groaned. “I’m going to die.”
And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
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You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.
“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.
Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”
The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.
For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.
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Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”
Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”
He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”
Your breath hitched. “Really?”
“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.
He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”
He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.
“Run!”
You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.
And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:
I want this forever.
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Masterlist
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pellucid-constellations · 3 months ago
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On the Ice
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Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Figure Skater! Reader
Summary: Sometimes, training gets intense. That's fine, though—Bucky'll be there to take care of his girl.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Reader is shorter than Bucky (but I'm imagining him like 6'7 in this 😉)
a/n:​​​ Happy one-bucky-fic-a-year to this blog <3 Seriously though this was fun to write!! I missed college athlete Bucky sm 🫶 Thank you for the suggestion @itsswritten :)
Masterlist
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Coming to a stop in the middle of the ice, you bent with a heaving chest and placed your hands on your thighs. The cold air of the rink was biting in your lungs but you greedily gulped the air down, anyway, light beaming you in the eye as it reflected off the carved ice beneath your skates. You fought the urge to collapse into the pools of fluorescence. 
Soft, melodic program music faded away until the only sound in the building was your labored breath. You’d been going at it for a few hours and only felt the repercussions now that you were stopped. The burning in your legs was an extra push towards sprawling out on the ice, and you were a moment away from giving in to that urge when the floor disappeared from beneath your blades.
You let out a startled scream, the sound traveling across the ice as your body was whipped around. You spun, making three rotations before the arms around your middle loosened and you felt breath at your ear. 
“Ice time’s over, sweetheart.” 
Bucky placed you back down but his arms never moved from around you. That was a good thing, in all honesty, because you weren’t sure if your shaking legs would hold you up. 
You spun in his arms, gripping his uniform jacket between your fingers as you stared up at him. “Bucky,” you greeted, a breathless smile lighting up your face. 
“Hi,” he grinned back, bringing a hand up to your cheek to steady you as he kissed your forehead. “How’s my girl?” 
“Good! Although, I might’ve overdone it.” 
Bucky shook his head fondly, eyes soft as he held your gaze. “I know you overdid it. You haven’t texted me in two hours. Figured you’d stay up until our practice, but not even a break? You know better than that, baby.”
You scoffed. “I don’t have time for a break. Championships are—”
“Coming up and I have to be at my best, Bucky,” your boyfriend mocked with a playful smile. He lifted you by your waist, your skates barely hovering above the ice, and started making his way to the rink's edge. “I’ve heard it a million times. Doesn’t mean you gotta kill yourself out here.” 
“I’m not going that hard. And I take breaks!” 
“Right, sure. You wanna tell me why your water is completely full then?” 
You stared up at Bucky, your head at his chin as he carried you. “Um, I just refilled it.”
“You suck at lying. You always bite your lip and you can’t even look me in the eye.” 
“Yeah? Well, you’re nosey and a weirdo for checking my water bottle.” 
Bucky only laughed, the material of his jacket rustling against the softness of your workout clothes. He made it to the edge and kept you in his hold, only releasing you once he reached the benches by the lockers. In a series of quick motions, he held your backpack in his hands and was kneeling at your feet. 
“Drink,” he commanded, holding out your water bottle. He patted the side of your calf before drying off your blades and covering them. “You get the axel?” Bucky asked as you obediently followed his command. 
You wiped the water from your lips before groaning. “Almost. I don’t know why I’m blocked right now. I fell on my knee too—that hurt.” 
Bucky tsked and started untying your laces. “The bad one?” 
“Unfortunately. I guess I actually did take a break because I had to lay on the ice for a little while after that one.” 
Bucky tugged your leggings from the confines of your skates and rolled the left leg up to reveal the dark bruise etched on your skin. It seemed to linger there at all times, getting darker or lighter depending on your week. It wasn’t broken, however, and that was considered a win. 
Bucky ran his fingers over the skin gently. It matched the fading bruise on his cheek, in a way, and you considered the ridiculousness of the sports your chose as your boyfriend kissed your knee and pulled your the leg of you pants back down to your ankle. 
“Y/n,” Bucky chastised, slipping the skates from your feet. He set them aside and pressed his side against yours as he sat on the bench. He took your chin between his thumb and finger. “This is why I don’t like you at the rink alone. I don’t want to show up to practice and find you passed out on the ice.”
You knocked your head to the side, a small smile seemingly permanent on your lips. Bucky was so pretty to look at. “That won’t happen, Buck. I’m a professional.”
“Professional pain in my ass,” he grumbled, but the sound was muffled at the end because you had your lips pressed against his. 
He met your touch with mirrored enthusiasm, sliding his hand from your chin to the back of your neck. You broke apart far too soon for Bucky’s liking, an accusatory glare in your eyes letting him know you had only kissed him to distract him while you formulate a response. 
“You’ve got some nerve, Barnes, you know that? What about when I watch you on the ice and you’re provoking people into smashing your face in, huh? Talk about a professional pain in the ass—you’re the poster boy of pain in the ass.” 
Bucky kept your face in his hand, brushing his thumb along your cheek as you went on your tirade. He was only retaining about half of the words that came out of your mouth, but that was your fault; you should know better than to kiss him into shutting up. 
“Last month you had a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop bleeding for an hour! I was next to the penalty box and I couldn’t even do anything. At least when I get hurt it’s possible for you to—are you even listening to me?” 
Bucky's smile lifted at the corner and he shook his head with a lovesick expression. 
You let out an affronted gasp. “You’re the one that started all of this and now you’re not even—” 
Your words were cut off by Bucky pulling your face forward and smashing his lips against yours. A strangled sound left the back of your throat, but you kissed him back just as quickly. A small smile was shared between lips, and you could feel a lingering sense of urgency in the pace he set; clearly, he was expecting the rest of his team to come in at any moment. 
You pulled back but he followed your lips as they attempted retreat. 
“Bucky,” you mumbled against him. “I was talking to you.” 
He hummed. “I know, baby.” He stayed close enough for you to still felt his words as he spoke them. “But you started it. You know I can’t help myself when it comes to kissing you.” 
You held his gaze, your playful glare matching the smile you struggled to hold back. You went to kiss him again, but the sound of the rink’s double doors smacking against the wall echoed in the space and your incoming kiss turned into you pushing away from Bucky and rising from the bench in one too-quick motion. 
Your knees (and the rest of you) weren’t entirely prepared for the movement. Your body shook and parts of you gave out as your feet began to soak up the chill from the concrete beside the rink. Bucky was there though—as he always was. He jolted up and mimicked his hold on the ice, his chest at your back as he wrapped his arms around your middle. 
“Whoa, y/n. Careful, baby. Saw your knee start to give out.” 
“Bucky, you can’t—” 
But it was too late. The sound of whistles and taunting jabs filtered past the locker room door, the rest of Bucky’s team entering with sly smiles and raised brows.
You knew the team and knew that their teasing was harmless, but you weren’t completely used to the way men showed each other affection just yet. Especially not when there was twenty of them all the size of small bears. 
“Hey, Miss Olympics,” Sam winked. “You and Buck look awfully comfortable over there. Don’t steal him for too long—we need him on the ice.”
You laughed but cringed internally, pushing against Bucky’s hold that refused to relent. 
“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky called over your head. “I’ll get on the ice when I want.” 
A few other players greeted you with teasing smiles and you felt your face burn brighter with each passing moment that Bucky didn’t let up. You glanced over your shoulder, expecting him to look similarly mortified, but Bucky only looked back with a wide grin and pressed a loud kiss to the side of your temple. 
“What, you embarrassed of me, baby?” 
“What—no! But aren’t you sort of, I don’t know—aren’t you embarrassed? To be like this in front of the rest of the team? Other guys I’ve dated—” 
“I don’t know what other guys you’ve been with, sweetheart, but they’re a bunch of idiots. I’ll show you off whenever I get the chance.” He pressed you back down on the bench with a smile and brushed away the flyaways around your face. “And I talk about you enough to where it doesn’t really matter if they see us. They expect it.” 
“Barnes, get the hell on the ice!” came a call from the rink. 
Bucky hooked his chin over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah! Got it!” He turned back to you and crouched before your seated position, gathering your face in his hands to plant a loud, dizzying kiss to lips. “You’ll get back to the dorms okay?” 
“Um, yeah,” you replied, disoriented by the onslaught of affection. 
“Perfect. See you later then.” 
“Barnes!” 
Bucky rolled his eyes and gave your face a soft pat before sliding onto the ice. “I was clearly busy.” 
978 notes · View notes
just-jordie-things · 11 months ago
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fuck it, i love you - okkotsu yuuta
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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
word count: 11k warnings: none really. reader likes lemon oreos bcuz i projected onto this <3 summary: (y/n) and yuuta get to know each other better over the phone while he's on assignment in africa. feelings ensue. more info: long distance friends to lovers, yuuta got that romance dawg in him
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[ and you know everyone adores you // you can’t feel it and you’re tired // baby, wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine // but it’s killing me slowly ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The first time he gets a call from her, Yuuta is a little perplexed before he answers the phone.  Of the few people he might’ve expected a phone call from, (y/n’s) was the last name he expected to see on his screen.  Nonetheless, he answered it right away.
“Hello?” 
“Hey, Okkotsu,” Her voice was so cheerful, he could’ve easily believed that she meant to call someone else.  But she’d said his name, so it couldn’t have been a mistake.  “How’s Morocco?”
“Morocco, is….” He trails off, fingers tapping a poor rhythm on the table in front of him.  Doing paperwork in a hotel room wasn’t ideal.  The desk provided was always small, and the chair always uncomfortable.  But it wasn’t like he had a lot to report anyways.  “It’s alright, I guess” 
“Alright, you guess?” She repeats curiously.  “Sounds like you’re bored already” 
“Bored-? N-no, no I’m not bored,” He stammered over his words, and (y/n) could be heard laughing through the line.  “I’m just, um, I’m trying to do a report right now” He said sheepishly.
Trying being the key word.  He’d practically given up ten minutes before he got her call anyways.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” (y/n) apologized right away.  “Am I keeping you? Should I go?” 
“N-no!” Yuuta squeaked, cringing at himself as he slumped back into his hair, covering his face with his hand as if there was anyone else around to hide his embarrassment from.  “No, you’re not keeping me, I… I have nothing for this report anyways” He explained.
“Really? Not goin’ so well?” She asked.
“Uh- it’s just- I don’t want to bore you with it,” He sighed.  “Anyways, what’s the call for? Isn’t it like…” He glances behind him at the analog clock on his bedside table, wincing when he sees how late it was.  “Three in the morning, your time?” 
“Actually, it’s only two forty-five,” She corrects with a clear smile in her tone.  “And aren’t I allowed to check in? You’ve been gone, for like, weeks” 
“Y-yeah, you’re allowed,” He mumbles back, face feeling hot.  “I just figured, y’know, you’re… busy” 
“Never too busy,” She half-jokes.  “So tell me all about it, boring parts and all” 
Yuuta’s brows pinch together, a small scoff leaving his throat.
“Really?” He’s unsure as to why she’d want to hear about the ins and outs of a trip that so far had proven to be pointless.  “You sure you want to hear about it?” 
“Course,” She hums back.  “Beats studying” 
So he complies.  There’s not much to tell, but he finds a way to walk her through what his day-to-day with Miguel was like.  Looking for more of the Black Rope.  She seemed to have some interest in the cursed tool, asking excitedly if it could stop the cursed techniques of even the strongest special grade sorcerers.
“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” He chuckles.  “But it’s been slow.  I’m starting to think this is going to take longer than we thought…” 
(y/n’s) a good listener.  She lets him ramble on even when he’s not making sense, and continues to prod and ask more questions when she comes up with them.  He thinks maybe she’s just stalling to keep her from studying, but he figures there were countless other things she could’ve done to keep her occupied… right? 
It’s not until Yuuta notices the clock and remembers the time difference between them that he finally stops his rambling and suggests they end their call soon.
“Ah- it’s late, and I’m probably boring you now, too” He lets out a light hearted chuckle that she can’t help but reciprocate.
“I guess I should try to study just a little” She huffs.
Yuuta scoffs, a small smile on his face as he picks up his pen and stares at the half-finished report in front of him.  Maybe he’d been stalling, too.
“Or you could just go to bed, cram last minute tomorrow” He suggests.
She seems amused by that, and when she lets out a little laugh he thinks it’s the right choice, too.  The noise comes out lazily, full of sleepiness.  It’s obvious even through the phone.  Yuuta wonders if she’s hunched over her desk, ignoring the textbook and notes right in front of her.
“You’re pr’lly right,” She murmurs, her tiredness even more evident in her voice.  “I guess I’ll go to bed then” 
“Okay,” Yuuta drums the pen against his thigh in an erratic beat.  Something about saying goodnight makes him feel a little disappointed.  
Until now, he hadn’t realized that it had been weeks since he’d casually talked to a friend.  Toge texted plenty, and sometimes he heard from Panda and Maki, too.  But this felt… different.
“Well, goodnight-” 
“And Okkotsu?” She interrupts him without realizing, quickly apologizing before she continues her thought.  “You didn’t bore me, just for the record.  I think it’s neat that you get to be on such a special assignment.  I hope that it gets more exciting for you” 
He’s thankful that she didn’t opt to facetime him, because his face grows so warm he just knows he’s turned into a tomato.  And something about sitting in his lonely little hotel room and blushing over such a simple comment is downright embarrassing.
He laughs nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt to relieve the heat on his neck.
“Uh, yeah, me too,” He stammered quietly.  “Thanks.  Good luck with studying” 
She hums.
“Goodnight, Okkotsu.  Thanks for keeping me company” 
The call ends there, and Yuuta smiles to himself as he sets his phone down and finds the energy to finish up his pointless report.
Talking with her had been nice.  Maybe they hadn’t become the closest of friends between him enrolling at Jujutsu Tech and being shipped off to Africa, but he thinks that could- and should- change.
He’d have to make more of an effort to get closer to her while he was away.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
When (y/n) calls again, it’s not so late this time.
Yuuta had just settled in the hotel lobby with his burrito for lunch, his only plan for the time being was to scroll aimlessly on his phone while he ate.  To his luck, just as he sat down on the stiff cushioned chair in the lobby, his phone rang.
“Okkotsu!” 
It had been a little over a week since their last call, and Yuuta had done his best to keep in touch with her since then.  A few photos of the wildlife native to the area that she seemed to enjoy, or a pretty sunrise here or there.  There were a lot of messages sent to her first thing in the morning, beautiful photos tagged with his complaints of being up so early.  It was the easiest time to use his phone, and he’d tried to make a habit of at least messaging her once a day.
To his delight, she always sent him a response.  It wasn’t always right away, with an eight hour time difference that was a steep ask, but she never failed to let him know that she saw his message and appreciated it somehow.  Whether it was an emoji reaction or a full text, she never left a text from him unanswered.  Strangely, Yuuta found this to be thoughtful of her.
“I’m cooking, can you believe it!?” She sounds excited, but the kind of excited that seems like something very wrong is about to happen.
“O-oh?” He stutters, chucking as he tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could unwrap his burrito.  “What, are you not allowed, or something?” 
“Hush, I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” She laughs at his comment, not realizing he wasn’t joking.  “I just haven’t cooked for myself properly since moving away from home.  The kitchen here is puny, though,” She mutters the last part.
The muffled sounds coming through the speaker sound as though she’s rummaging around the cabinets.  Yuuta tilts his phone away from his ear a little, the dishware clanking together more unpleasant than usual coming through a phone.
“But I thought it’d be nice to make a home cooked dinner.  I was going to make some for everyone, but I guess they already ate.  So it’s dinner for one tonight,” She explains.  Yuuta’s chest sinks with disappointment at the thought of missing quality time with his friends.  “Anyways, what’re you up to?” 
“Eating a burrito,” He replies dryly.  “What are you making? I’d much rather have that” 
“Don’t speak too soon, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen,” 
(y/n) laughs, and Yuuta does too.
“Just ramen,” She answers.  “Figured it’s best to start out simple.  Also figured I couldn’t set anything on fire” 
“Depends on how you look at it.  Setting something on fire while only cooking ramen might be an accomplishment, with how difficult it must be” 
He doesn’t mean to be funny, but (y/n’s) laughing again, and Yuuta smiles through a mouthful of burrito for saying something clever enough.  Pride swells in his chest the longer he hears her laughter turn to muted giggles while she’s pittering about the kitchen.
“You’re eating, should I let you go?” She asks once her laughter has calmed down.
“No, it’s alright,” Yuuta shakes his head even though he knows she can’t see.  “I’m bored anyways.  I was just going to sit here by myself and eat this burrito” 
She laughs again, lightly this time.
“Alright, then, want me to tell you about how hard Maki kicked my ass in training yesterday?” She offers.
He’d already had an inkling, recalling a harshly worded text from her followed by a photo of her left leg covered in blue and purple marks that were bound to grow dark soon.  He’d cringed when he’d seen it, giving the image a frowning emoji reaction before responding with, ‘Maki?’.  But he happily agrees to have her tell him the rest of the story behind the bruises.
He deems (y/n) and Maki to hold a far closer friendship than he did himself, so he knew that the next five minutes of ranting on her part is in good nature and she was only annoyed with losing, not necessarily with Maki herself.  That said, as someone who had dealt with the torture of training with her, Yuuta understood the feeling quite well.  He laughs when she talks about being thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, and he winces when she tells him about the absolute beatdown she’d taken.
It’s a gruesome retelling, even though at times she talks as if it was as casual a part of her day as brushing her teeth had been.  The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was always an unorthodox one.
“She didn’t even try to go easy on me, Okkotsu.  But, she did get me an ice cream sandwich with my ice pack, so she’s still my best friend, I guess” She’s only teasing, evident in the way she giggles.
“Yuuta” He says without thinking, having happened to swallow the last of his food and finally getting a chance to speak.
“Hm- what?” 
“You can just call me Yuuta” He clarifies, eyes darting around the lobby to be sure no one could see him blushing.  
His voice grows quieter as he suddenly feels bashful in the public setting.  None of the people passing in and out of the space pay him a second glance, and it doesn’t dawn on him that they might not even understand his language, but his body language says enough.  He’s tucked into the corner chair, hunched over and holding the phone as close to his face as possible so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice too much.  Not to mention, his face was turning a rosy shade of pink.
“Alright, Yuuta,” (y/n) muses, testing the waters to see how his name sounded.  It felt foreign, and it had the color in Yuuta’s face darkening even faster, but she seemed amused by the change.  “Ramen’s coming along pretty well, I think it’ll actually be edible!” 
She’s quick to move on from the semi-serious topic.  He’s relieved for this, and does his best to come across as casual as possible.  He asks her about the recipe, and she talks to him for a while about her process until the conversation somehow turns back on him and he’s updating her about Morocco.
Time passes so easily, Yuuta barely realizes that he’s been sitting in the lobby for an hour, not thinking about how she had finished her dinner and eaten it too.  (y/n) never mentions the time either, unknown to him, sitting on the counter in the common room’s kitchenette as she talks aimlessly about anything and everything she can think of.  Yuuta enjoys hearing about it all, the shenanigans that she’s been up to with Toge, the odd style of teaching that Gojo has, even just the simple things, like how yesterday it had rained.
There’s something magical about being on the phone with her, he realizes halfway into hearing about how she’d gone outside to help the worms back into the grass after the rainfall.  Not only does he lose time, but there’s not a dull moment.  Most of his days had become so bland and boring they’d started to blend together.  Besides the occasional sword training, he’d spent the majority of his time wandering about with Miguel.  It was starting to feel aimless, with every passing day that they came up empty handed.
Talking with her was everything but boring, never boring.  It finally felt like he had some company to get him through this assignment.  He hoped that this second call meant they could make more of a habit out of it.
“I should probably go so I can clean up the kitchen,” She sighs when she finally suggests getting off the phone.  It’s then, and only then, that Yuuta checks the time, quickly pulling his phone away to tap the screen before putting it up to his ear again.  “I think it’d be obnoxious for me to stay on the phone while I do the dishes” She adds with a chuckle.
His heart spikes at the idea of her wanting to keep talking, though.
“Y-yeah, that might be too loud,” He replies.  “But that’s okay, I should probably get some training in, or something, anyways” 
“Gotta keep up that Special Grade status,” (y/n) teases.  He’s grateful she can’t see him fluster every time she teases him, no matter how lighthearted it is.  He’s not sure why it sends him into a mini panic every time, but he hopes he gets a hang of himself soon, if they’re going to keep talking like this.  “Talk soon, though?” 
He’d really have to learn to get a hold of himself.  The short question has him beaming and nodding his head wildly, although the only people to see it are the hotel staff at the check-in desk who’d been peeking glances at the weird talkative boy on his phone for the last two hours.
Yuuta clears his throat before speaking, hoping to sound as normal as possible.
“Yeah, yeah we can talk again soon”
He’s not sure how well he does.
“Okay, cool,” The smile is evident in her tone, and in turn has Yuuta smiling too.  “Talk to you later then, Yuuta” 
Maybe he was just hopeless, but hearing his name again has him blushing and fidgeting in his seat.
“Bye, (y/n)” 
Even once the call has ended and his phone is sitting lifeless in his lap, with the rush of adrenaline Yuuta gets, one might think he’d just received the best news of his life.  Funnily enough, he hadn’t received much news at all- besides the fact that the worms on Jujutsu Tech Tokyo’s property were safe and accounted for after a life threatening sprinkle- so his giddiness was solely brought on by talking with her.
Slowly but surely, she was becoming his favorite person to talk to.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[y/n]: need ur help, it’s urgent [y/n]: ok woah i should not have said it like that
[yuuta]: ??? are you ok???
[y/n]: need u to help me win a bet
[yuuta]: ._. [yuuta]: ok.
[y/n]: vanilla oreos suck, right? 
[yuuta]: this was urgent? 
[y/n]: panda said they’re his favorite flavor.
[yuuta]: oh god. [yuuta]: he needs a wellness check for sure.
[y/n]: THANK YOU  [y/n]: toge said his fav were the birthday cake ones but the vanilla weren’t bad. he’s still got the taste of a toddler, but at least they’re not his FAVORITE i mean cmon.  vanilla is just bad. [y/n]: i knew you’d understand me.
[yuuta]: ur right this was urgent.  i thought i knew them. [yuuta]: what are your favorite?
[y/n]: obviously i told them original.
[yuuta]: … implying they’re not actually your favorite? 
[y/n]: you’re asking very personal questions, yuuta
[yuuta]: lmfao [yuuta]: i’ll tell u mine if u tell me urs :)
[y/n]: u first i’m shy :)
[yuuta]: original are good.  but i like the toffee ones best 
[y/n]: interesting.
[yuuta]: so am i getting judged for my oreo preference, too? 
[y/n]: lol no.  ur safe.  for now ;)
[yuuta]: well we had a deal.  what’s ur fav?
[y/n]: … i like the lemon ones
[yuuta]: :o [yuuta]: don’t those come with a VANILLA cookie???
[y/n]: … [y/n]: maybe.
[yuuta]: ur ridiculous
[y/n]: but the lemon flavor makes it different.  it’s not PLAIN vanilla.
[yuuta]: can’t argue with u there
[y/n]: ya bcuz u wouldn’t dare :)
[yuuta]: no i wouldn’t :) 
[y/n]: mwahaha i have the big scary special grade afraid of me :)
[yuuta]: idk about big.  and the scary is all rika
[y/n]: does she have a take on the great oreo flavor debate? &lt;3
[yuuta]: … [yuuta]: she always preferred animal crackers.
[y/n]: &lt;;/3
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
When Yuuta finally works up the courage to call her first, it’s been a couple weeks.
Which in hindsight, it feels like too much time has passed.  Even though they’ve been texting every single day nearly nonstop.  Yuuta had grown so attached to his phone it was almost becoming a problem.
Not that he’d admit it.
“Okkotsu Yuuta!” She picks up the phone with the same eagerness she’d held the last time she’d called him.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 
“I was bored, and was hoping you had something interesting going on,” He sighed, falling backwards on the perfectly made bed in his room.  Too perfect.  It was always annoying to tug the covers out of their tightly tucked corners to comfortably sleep at night.  “All I’ve been doing is train and I’m exhausted” He grumbles.
(y/n) hums through the speaker.
“Well if you’re that bored, I suppose I could tell you about a boy conflict of mine,” She suggests.
Just as Yuuta was starting to relax into the mattress, he felt his spine go stiff as a chill shot from his tailbone all the way up to his neck.  It feels like his entire body has been drenched in icy water, freezing him solid.
“It’s okay if that’s too… weird, though” He’s drawn back to reality by (y/n’s) nervous laugh, something he doesn’t hear all that often.  It’s strained and awkward, displaying every bit of anxious emotion that she felt.  
“It’s not weird,” Yuuta’s not usually very good at lying, people always have a way of seeing right through him.  He wonders if he’s only decent at telling this one because she’s not physically here.  She can’t see the way his face contorts as it tries to stay neutral, or how his fingers start to tap against the comforter beneath him.  “Boy conflict is… normal” He adds.
He’d meant that one, but she laughs anyway.
“I guess so,” She sighs through the speaker.  “But I’ve never really had any before.  Not like you get to meet a lot of people.  But… I guess I met someone..?”
Yuuta’s gut twists, and he wonders if he ate something bad with his lunch.  Maybe the chicken was undercooked? No, it seemed fine.  He probably just ate too fast.
“That feels less like conflict and more like interest” His jaw feels tight when he talks.  With his free hand, he rubs at it and tries to keep his teeth from clenching.
“Well, I am interested,” 
Distantly, Yuuta thinks he should swallow some tums before he goes to bed so this stomach ache won’t keep him up all night.
“At least, I think I am,” (y/n) sighs again.  “He’s not a sorcerer, I met him at a corner store I went to with Maki,” She explains.  “He was cute and all, I guess we had a moment over the energy drinks? It’s kind of a blur, I didn’t really pay attention until he was handing me his number and now I have this number and- I don’t know.  Is that weird?” 
Yuuta’s not really sure what to tell her.  He’s not really sure how he feels about it.  His gut tells him that yes, it is weird, and she shouldn’t be going out with some guy she met at a convenience store.  Anyone can walk into one of those, he thinks bitterly, his brow furrowed as he thought over her dilemma.
“Well, um, did he seem… nice?” 
The question comes out pathetic.  Yuuta’s smacking his hand over his face from how stupid he sounds, and feels.  
“Yeah, I guess” (y/n) answers anyways.
“Then I guess ball’s in your court?” The suggestion comes out more as a question than he means it to.  Yuuta thinks he wasn’t equipped for this, and maybe he should have told her it was a weird thing for them to talk about.
But he wouldn’t have meant that.  He would talk to her about anything, and he wanted her to feel the same.  He wanted her to talk about anything and everything she wanted.  Lord knows he’d take an interest in it. 
However the interest he has in this conversation isn’t quite like normal.  His curiosity is less genuine.  It feels like it’s lurching around in his mind, something disappointed yet irritable growing in it’s place.  He hates the feeling.  He hates feeling that way towards her.  Even if it wasn’t directed at her specifically.
“You’re right,” There’s more determination in her voice now.  “I should just text him, right?”
No, Yuuta’s jaw is clenched again, teeth grinding loudly.  He hopes she can’t hear it through the phone.  No, don’t let some stranger have your number.  He doesn’t deserve it like I do.
“Right!” His voice is louder than he means to, as if trying to overpower the jealous train of thought that runs through his mind.
He’s sitting upright on the bed in a second, still rigid and uncomfortable, but his anxiety makes him want to pace.  He needs to work off the awkward feeling in his chest somehow.
“Then I can see what he’s like,” (y/n) speaks as though she’s really telling herself what made the most sense.  Yuuta’s nodding wordlessly, his eyes fixated on a spot on the floor that’s growing more blurry by the second.  “And then if I like him… maybe we can go out or something” She mumbles the last part, clearly distracted.  
He wonders if she’s texting him now.  The idea of her reaching out to this random guy while she’s on the phone with him sends his heart plummeting to his already upset stomach.
Where were all of these nasty feelings coming from? 
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea” Yuuta’s speaking, but it feels distant, he’s not exactly sure of what he’s saying.
“Alright.  I’ll text him later, then,” 
He’s relieved that she wasn’t doing it this very moment, but there was still an unsettling pit in his stomach knowing she was bound to reach out at some point.
“Thanks, Yuuta.  So, what’s been going on with you?” 
It takes a while of chatting and pacing the room before Yuuta feels like himself again.  He’s lucky there wasn’t a circle burned in the shape of his track in the tightly coiled carpeting of his room, certainly he would’ve had to call Gojo for a favor if he was billed for such damage.
Eventually the nasty feeling in his chest settles and he’s sitting in the bed again, the notebook he was drafting up today’s report on propped on his legs and his phone at his side, (y/n’s) voice on speaker as she tells him about the rest of her and Maki’s outing in the shopping district.
As it always does, time goes by too quickly, and soon enough she’s yawning through the speaker and telling him it was getting too late for her.
“But thanks for calling, Yuuta.  I was starting to think you didn’t know phones worked both ways” She teases softly.
Had she been waiting for him to call? 
“Yeah, anytime.  I just… you know the time difference… I don’t ever want to bother you” 
“You? Bother me?” She giggles.  “After you let me talk your ear off about a boy, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here,” She tells him.
The nasty feeling swells again.
“Besides, you could never bother me,” She adds, her tone much softer.  Almost sweet.  Yuuta can’t tell if his stomach is convulsing or doing flips.  “But call again sometime, m’kay?” 
“Okay,” He says, hopeful, and just as eager as he felt.  “G’night, (y/n)” 
“Bye Yuuta, goodnight!” 
His phone lights up with the low battery icon once the call is over.  He’s slow to plug the charger into it and leave it on his nightstand for the evening, his mind still mulling over everything she’d told him.  Or more so, how he’d felt taking in all that information.
He couldn’t have possibly been jealous, right? Not over some random guy.  Not because of her.  They were friends, after all.  Friends that didn’t even get that close until after he left.  In his time at Jujutsu Tech he’d only spoken to her a handful of times, and mostly in passing.  It wouldn’t feel right to have something like jealousy spark up now.  No, he was probably just worried for her, seeing as he couldn’t look out for her when he’s thousands of miles away.  Yeah, that was it.
It couldn’t have anything to do with the way he felt his world light up when she laughed.  Or that getting a text message from her in the sound effect that he’d picked out just for her contact had serotonin spiking in his brain.  
None of those things were connected at all.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The fourth time they talk on the phone, unfortunately, he has to hear about this guy again.
Yuuta’s not even sure he knows his name.  He thinks (y/n) must’ve mentioned it once or twice in their texts, but it’s never quite stuck, and honestly, Yuuta doesn’t want to ask.
Not that he cares- it wasn’t like that at all.  It had simply been too long for it to feel appropriate to ask.  He didn’t want her to think he didn’t listen, is all.
He’d called one evening when yet again he felt like putting off writing up his report.  It had almost become a habit to reach out to her as soon as he was stalling, or bored.  He didn’t have much to talk about, he never really did, but he had been eager to tell her about some new cuisine he’d tried that he’d thought she might like. 
There was a pesky thought in the back of his mind about her visiting him for a few days.  Only pesky due to how often it presented itself, even when he should’ve been focused on more pressing matters.  He knew it was bad when Miguel had taken notice and smacked him upside the head to get him to pay attention- on this earth, preferably, he’d said.
But he couldn’t help it.  The idea of having her here, for a few days or a few weeks, had become his go-to daydream.  He already knew everything he’d want to show her, the busy, colorful markets and the good food Yuuta hadn’t known existed until coming here.  To how pretty the beaches were at sunset, especially when the little hermit crabs would wake up and wander around the shore, he thinks she’d like that a lot.
Even just the idea of having her around to hang out with and chat about anything and nothing, just like how they do through their phones, had his chest buzzing with warmth and excitement.  Even though it was all in his head and logic told him she probably couldn’t make such a trip.  She had her own assignments and lessons after all, and technically he was supposed to be working.
Nonetheless, when he found himself getting bored, his mind drifted off to pretending she was there with him to keep him company.  Sometimes it even did the trick.
Tonight when he calls her, he’s kicking around the idea of bringing it up.  Maybe if she took it well enough he could reach out to Gojo about it, surely he had the social standing and the funds to let her visit.  His heart is thrumming in his chest just thinking about it, every ring of the dial tone putting him further on the edge of his seat.
It rings a total of five times before she finally answers.  It’s not all that late in Tokyo, just half past nine, but suddenly Yuuta worries that this wasn’t a good time to call.
“Hey,” He’s the first to speak, grinning from ear to ear when the line finally clicks and she’s answered the call.  “Is this a bad time?” 
“Uh, n-no,” She stutters back, voice quiet and a little raspier than usual.  Had she been sleeping? She speaks before he can double check if it was an okay time to talk.  “I’m not doing anything.  What’s up?” 
Yuuta can’t quite put his finger on it, but it certainly sounds like it’s a bad time.  Her voice is lacking it’s usual mirth, and she sounds like she’s purposefully trying not to raise her voice.  His smile begins to fall as his brain starts to stir with worry.
“Nothing, really.  Just… wanted to talk, I guess,” It feels a little embarrassing to admit, but for once, she’s not teasing him.  It’s strange, not hearing her softly poke fun at him when he’d clearly given her an opening to do so.  “What’re you doing?” 
“It’s almost ten here, I’m in bed” 
The words almost come out cold, a bitterness to them that Yuuta wasn’t used to.  If it weren’t for the crack in her voice, he might’ve thought she was upset with him.  But there’s a noticeable little hitch in the middle of her words that tells him it’s not annoyance he’s picking up on.
“Hey,” His voice is quiet as he sits on his bed, brows furrowing as he feels the mood shift even in a room thousands of miles away from hers.  “Is something wrong?” 
“No” Comes her instant answer, but it’s not remotely believable.  Her voice is so quiet and muffled it barely comes through the speaker, and shortly after he hears a shuffling that sounds like a heap of blankets being tossed around.
“C’mon, wanna talk about it?” He pressed again, dragging his finger over the crisp comforter on the bed to create misshapen invisible designs.  “What happened, (y/n)?” He asks again, voice softer than before.
The tiniest of sniffles could be heard, and his heart sinks at the idea of her sitting alone in bed and crying.  Whatever caused it he was sure he could find a way to solve it.  It wasn’t often that Yuuta felt cocky with his Special Grade status, but in this moment he was sure he was the most powerful person in the world, and if something had bothered her this much, he’d certainly be able to take care of it.
“It’s- it’s stupid,” The high pitch in the cracking of her voice was more evident the louder she spoke.  He’s worried she was going to leave it at that, maybe tell him to leave her alone or hang up altogether.  Then he hears a wobbly inhale before she’s whimpering through her words again.  “I’m so stupid, Yuuta, what was I thinking?”
His heart cracks with every word she speaks.  He’s not sure what put her in such pain, but he swears, he’s experiencing it too just knowing she was hurting.  He places his free hand over his chest to ease the hollow feeling that carves itself there.
“What d’ya mean? You’re not stupid, not remotely.  C’mon, y’know that,” He tries to keep his voice light and gentle, even though the growing put in his stomach had his throat closing up.  “What happened? Talk to me” He pleads softly.
(y/n) sniffles, before trying to even out her breathing again so she didn’t sound so pathetic when she talked.
“I don’t even want to tell you, it’s so stupid,” She admits.  “B-but everyone else is busy, o-or gone and I- I don’t want to cry about it anymore,” 
Had she been crying for a while? His heart seizes at the thought.
“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” She mumbles.  Yuuta nodded his head rapidly in response.
“Yeah, yeah of course I promise.  I won’t laugh at you” He tells her with grave sincerity.
She sighs, breath still shaky, but she does her best to talk through it.
In a wobbly, quiet voice, she tells him everything.  About how she had plans to meet up with convenience-store-guy that Yuuta still hadn’t caught the name of.  How she’d taken plenty of time to plan out her outfit and put herself together, how in the meantime he’d been nothing short of flirtatious and sweet, leading her to believe he’d been eager to go out with her.  She tells him how an hour before they were set to meet up a block away from campus, she’d stopped hearing from him altogether.  She laughs humorlessly as she explains she’d sent nearly ten messages asking where he was or if he needed to reschedule before she’d dropped it completely and walked herself back home.
“No text, no call.  Absolutely n-nothing,” She mutters bitterly.  “But I don’t g-get it, did I do something wr-wrong?” 
“Of course not,” Yuuta sighed, trying to release the tension of his building irritation so he could keep his focus on comforting her.  “He’s just… he’s stupid, okay? I don’t know what his deal is, but you dodged a bullet, for sure.  If that’s how he acts before a first date, imagine how terrible he would’ve been by the twentieth” 
Surprisingly, he’s not terrible when it comes to consoling her.  (y/n) hums tiredly in agreement.  It doesn’t necessarily take the pain away, but there is some relief in knowing it never would have worked out.
“Yeah,” She breathes out.  “But… I was excited, you know?” She mumbles.  “I’ve never been on a real date before, at least I don’t think I have, but I think I’d know,” She explains.  “I just… I thought I’d feel normal for a night.  I- I thought he liked me.  I kinda liked him, too.  But mostly I…” She trails off, and they both remain silent for a few beats, each processing their own mess of thoughts.  “I liked the idea of being liked, I guess.  Is that selfish?”
“Of course not,” Yuuta chuckles warmly.  “Everyone wants that.  It’s completely normal,” He says.  “Besides, it’s not like you were imagining things.  He did have an interest.  Who wouldn’t?” 
The last part comes out before he can realize what he’s actually saying, and his face grows hot with the insinuation of his words.  He’s stammering to fix it, which doesn’t help him much, but he tries.
“W-what I mean is that there will be plenty of other people who will meet you and fall for you completely and y-you’ll be swarmed with phone numbers and people who like you!” 
He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but his nerves are starting to take over as the word vomit continues.  (y/n’s) quiet as she listens intently, and the longer she doesn’t speak up to stop him, the worse his rambling becomes.
“You’ll have to fight ‘em all off, you know? There’s so many people out there who haven’t been lucky enough to meet you yet, and when they do you’ll get to experience everything you want.  You know what?”
There’s a soft ‘what?’ from her end before he continues on his rant.
“It’s a good thing your first date wasn’t with that prick anyways.  It wouldn’t have been fair.  It wouldn’t have been right at all if your first date was boring or shitty or- or anything short of special and electric, okay?” 
(y/n) still doesn’t say anything, but she’s hanging onto every word he says, even when they’re rushed and he’s stumbling over them, all of her focus is on what he’s saying.
“Because you deserve it.  And anyone who is remotely worth your time will know that.  And they’ll- they’ll text you too much before you finally go out, because they’ll be nervous because you make them nervous because you’ll be so out of their league, you know?” He doesn’t even pause before continuing.  “And they’ll pick you up on time if not early because they’ll respect your time, and they’ll have flowers- the prettiest, most expensive bouquet they could find- right? A bouquet even Gojo couldn’t afford,” 
She lets out a watery laugh that has Yuuta easing up in his rambling, a warm feeling planting in his chest in the hopes she’d smiled, even just a little bit, even if it was through her tears, he’d provoked just a little bit of joy from her.
“And… and if you’re anything short of completely swept away, then you’ll call Maki and she’ll come get you so you don’t have to spend another second wasting your time with a loser that doesn’t deserve you” 
His chest is heaving a bit when he finally stops, not realizing he was losing his breath the longer he rambled on.  His face feels hot as he processes everything he’d just dumped on her, and he prays that it wasn’t as pathetic as he’s worrying it was.
There’s a few small sniffles before (y/n) speaks up.
“Well, if you were back home, I’d just call you,” She says softly.  Her voice doesn’t sound as strained as before, and Yuuta hopes it means she’d stopped crying.  “You really think I’ll be able to find all that?” 
“Yeah, ‘course I do,” He mumbles back, although his words hold absolute certainty.  “Not a doubt in my mind” 
She giggles, a real little laugh that he can almost see.  It’s short and sweet and it has him elated that he’d lightened her mood.  He’s not sure what exactly he did, but he’s grateful that the word vomit was beneficial for once.
“Thank you, Yuuta,” She murmurs.  “You’re right, and, I actually feel a little better,” 
His heart soars, and he’s smiling to himself again with pride and relief.
“I’m still going to watch Pride and Prejudice before bed, though.  I’d already committed to it and I can’t just go to sleep now” She tells him seriously.  Yuuta laughs, falling back on his bed as comfortably as he could with his feet still planted on the ground.
“I’ve never seen it,” He tells her.  “But don’t stay up too-” 
“Never?” She interrupts with a gasp of shock.  “Yuuta, that’s criminal” 
He chuckles again.  “Is it really?” 
“Yes, very much so,” She tells him.  “When you’re back we have to watch it, okay?” 
“Yeah, sure-” 
“No, promise” She demanded for the second time that night.
“I promise,” He repeats, smiling to himself as his gaze wanders the ceiling.  
He couldn’t help but think that if she were to visit him, they could spend a whole afternoon here in this room watching her movie, probably eating snacks and making a mess of the place as they got cozy for it.  This room had always remained perfectly tidy, so much so it was almost boring.  Having her in it would surely brighten it up and give it some life, he thinks.
“We’ll watch it as soon as I’m back” He tells her.
“Okay.  Good.  You were on thin ice for a second, you know” She murmurs sleepily.  He can hear her yawning.
“Was I?” He muses.  “Is that what it takes to get you to hang up on me?” 
“Are you suggesting I wouldn’t?” She quips back, and he’s glad that her teasing nature has come around again.
“I’m suggesting you never have before” Yuuta shrugs.  His fingers are pressed firmly against the back of his phone, keeping it close to his ear so he couldn’t miss the way she laughed at him.
“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just good company,” She hums.  “But it is late and I want to watch this movie, so I guess there’s a first for everything” 
His face is warm and he feels full, like he’d just eaten a good meal, despite him having skipped lunch in order to call her.  Yuuta smiles lazily at the blank ceiling as he hums back to her.
“Alright, enjoy your movie,” He says.  “But, uh, you can call me again.  Y’know, if you… need to.  Or want to” 
There’s a pause before she responds.
“Okay,” It comes out in a hushed whisper.  “Have a good rest of your day, Yuuta” 
The time difference has his lips pinching into a frown, but he quickly tries to hold onto the last few seconds of joy he has while talking to her.
“Goodnight, (y/n)”
The call ends, and he drops his phone to the mattress, letting it sit forgotten beside his head.  He stays put in his semi-comfortable position, still staring at the ceiling as his hands fall to his sides.  His chest felt tight, and his mind a little dazed as he replayed the call over and over in his mind.  The hurt he’d felt when she was hurting, the relief he’d felt when she was happy.  It was overwhelming, the way his own emotions were thrown through the wringer depending on hers.
His heart was hammering in his chest so hard, Yuuta knew he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.
He was falling for her.  Fast, and hard.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[yuuta]: [attachment]: one image [yuuta]: i think you’d like these little guys
[y/n]: :D a hermit crab!!! [y/n]: so cute! can’t believe ur holding it, i’d be scared of getting pinched
[yuuta]: i’m special grade, i’m not scared of anything :)
[y/n]: getting real comfy with throwing that title around, huh? you must think so low of me, a mere second grade.  i could never amount to the *mighty* okkotsu yuuta.
[yuuta]: lol shut up it’s just a crab
[y/n]: he is super cute.  his name is yuu now :)
[yuuta]: bcuz u miss me so much? :)
[y/n]: bcuz he’s small and feisty.  that little claw looks ready to attack :>
[yuuta]: ok i’ll admit he did pinch me once. [yuuta]: but in his defense i did pick him up and i am a big scary human
[y/n]: lmfao [y/n]: i thought we just established ur small and feisty
[yuuta]: i don’t think i like being called small 
[y/n]: tiny  [y/n]: smol [y/n]: just a baby
[yuuta]: are we still talking abt the crab?? 
[y/n]: and maybe a little cute [y/n]: if we’re still talking about similarities :) 
[yuuta]: cute???????
[y/n]: when u first came to jujutsu tech u were kinda like a hermit crab LMFAO [y/n]: i think if u had a shell u would’ve lived in it for WEEKS XD
[yuuta]: ._.
[y/n]: :)
[yuuta]: ur being a menace today [yuuta]: more than usual
[y/n]: it’s bcuz gojo’s lesson plan so far has been fighting the air :/ idk how he’s a teacher.  i’m definitely not learning anything [y/n]: except that i might be able to take him in a fight without cursed energy
[yuuta]: my money is on u :)  [yuuta]: but also i’ll be there with ice cream when u get ur ass kicked 
[y/n]: &lt;;/3[y/n]: that’s my broken heart[y/n]: you’ve broken my heart.
[yuuta]: lol [yuuta]: but there will be ice cream [yuuta]: <3
[y/n]: …  [y/n]: ok i might forgive u
[yuuta]: is it bcuz i’m cute  [yuuta]: :)) [yuuta]: ?? (y/n) ?? [yuuta]: :(( [yuuta]: don’t ghost me ik ur not paying attention in class
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The tenth phone call they have, (y/n’s) the one calling him.
It’s one in the morning his time, so he’s sound asleep on the mattress that still feels stiff after about three months of him sleeping on it.  Every day he longs more and more to go back home to his cozy room and his friends and her.  
When his ringtone blares, a pretty tune that’s suddenly the most obnoxious sound on the planet, he’s awake right away.  Jolting from his slumber and reaching around blindly in search of the device.  He nearly shoves everything on his bedside table right off, his arm swinging with too much force in his desperate attempt to pick up the phone.
Even once it’s in his hand, it takes him a second to steadily press the accept button, his vision blurry and sleep still threatening to take back over.  It takes him a few tries before he’s answering the call and laying the phone on his pillow next to his head.
“Hello?” He rasps out.
“Yuuta!” (y/n’s) all too cheery for one in the morning, but he distantly remembers it’s the early evening in Tokyo.  His eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at them tiredly.  “Yuuta! How could you not tell me the good news!?” 
She’s yelling, and even without his phone on speaker he hears her perfectly fine just having the device laying next to his head.  It’s a shock to his ears, his mind buzzing as it tries to wake him up to deal with the noise.  But he snuggles deeper into his pillow, rolling onto his side to press his face into the feathery plushness.
“-was gonna wait,” He mumbles sleepily.  “Y’know, ‘til I was awake, ‘nd it was a normal time” His words are followed by a low chuckle.  The pillow suddenly becomes the comfiest thing he’s ever touched, and even the stiff mattress becomes a little more inviting.
“Wait?” She repeats the word before gasping dramatically.  “Okkotsu Yuuta, I had to hear you were coming back from Toge!” 
He chuckles again at her antics.  He’s still exhausted, but his chest feels warm hearing the excitement in her voice.
“Do you know how long it took him to tell me? Hm? He did charades, Yuuta.  Charades!” The image has him laughing a little more, shoulders shaking just a little bit as he listens to her go on.  “I’m terrible at charades by the way.  The whole thing took, like, fifteen minutes.  I was pissed he couldn’t just write it down” 
“Toge’s jus’ like that” He mumbles.
“But you told him before me?” 
Yuuta’s not sure if the offense in her tone is fake or not.  To play it safe, he covers his tracks.
“No,” He sighs.  “Gojo pr’lly told him.  He only just told me before I went to bed” 
“And you didn’t even text,” (y/n) huffs, but he can hear the laugh she’s trying to hold back.  He smiles in relief knowing she was just sticking to her bit.  “Well you better actually text me as soon as you’re back!” She says threateningly.  “We have plans.  You promised” 
“How could I forget?” He hums, voice low and growing quieter as his body beckons him to fall back to sleep.
“Okay.  Good,” She says definitively.  “I guess I’ll let you go back to sleep.  Sorry for waking you up” 
He hums in amusement.
“Don’t be sorry for being so excited to see me you couldn’t contain it,” He teases quietly.  (y/n’s) silent on the other end of the line.  “And don’t be embarrassed, either” He adds.
“I’m not embarrassed!” She squeaks, making him chuckle some more.  Maybe he was just deprived of his sleep, but she was extra cute when he was the one doing the teasing.  “But I… I am excited to see you” 
He smiles into his pillow, sighing contentedly into it.
“I know sweetheart,” He mumbles.  “And ‘m excited to see you too” 
She’s failing to stifle a giggle through the speaker.
“Okay okay, you’re clearly wiped.  I’ll let you go,” She says.  “Goodnight, Yuuta” 
“Night, (y/n)” 
He’s asleep before she even ends the call, drawn back into rest by the suddenly comfortable bedding and the sweet echo of her laughter playing in his mind.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
(y/n) had been adamant about having their movie night the same night he gets back to Tokyo.  With the jet lag and the time difference keeping him awake against his wishes, she was sure that having a relaxed evening inside would be the best way to ease him back into being at home.
Yuuta, on the other hand, tried to make it clear that they didn’t have to rush into it.  His flight would land at eleven in the evening, and he was sure he wouldn’t even be back to campus before midnight.  While it might have felt like early afternoon to him, (y/n) would have already had a full day of lessons and training, and likely be exhausted by that time.
However she was stubborn.  It didn’t matter how much he tried to persuade her otherwise, she remained certain that she would stay awake long enough to greet him and have a simple, fun night set up for them.
And who was he to fight too hard against it anyways? The idea of her going through the trouble and wanting to stay up so late just to see him gave him energy for the whole day.  He was smiling through customs, bouncing his leg waiting to board, texting her as much as possible before he’d have to put his phone on airplane mode, and greeting every employee and flight attendant with so much delight it was infectious.  He’d even gotten an extra package of goldfish for his delightful friendliness.
He’s as quick as can be picking up his checked luggage and rushing out of the airport.  Anyone who saw might have thought he was late, but in actuality he was trying to be as early as possible.  He’d practically crashed into Ijichi, almost racing past him, but just as quickly recognition flashed in his eyes and he gave the manager a bone crushing hug, forgetting his strength.
The man was alarmed by the affection, awkwardly patting the boy’s back before stepping out of the embrace and nervously laughing.  He leads Yuuta out of the building and towards the sleek black car that’s waiting to take him home.  Yuuta’s positively buzzing the whole ride.  It’s obvious that Ijichi is tired, it’s almost the middle of the night after all, but he does find some amusement in Yuuta’s pure and unfiltered excitement.
However when the boy shouts for a pit stop at a local twenty-four hour grocery shop, the man almost drives the car right off the road, slamming on the brakes and pulling over roughly enough to wake him up completely.  If Yuuta notices the harsh driving maneuvers, he doesn’t say anything.  Simply grabbing his wallet and rushing inside the building.  Ijichi swears all these kids pumped full of muscles and adrenaline would be the death of him.
Yuuta comes back with a full paper bag and a grin, thanking the manager as they continue the drive home without a hitch.
He shouldn’t have the energy he does when they arrive, but Ijichi watches in shock as Yuuta easily carries all of his bags and the delicate groceries and breaks into a full sprint for the dorms, hollering one last thank you as he does.
He’s unceremonious as he drops his things in his room.  There is a certain comfort in being back in a space he can contently call his own, but the welcome home nap he was so eager to take in his own bed could wait.  He leaves his things and is swept away by his own two feet as he hurries down the hall.
There’s the faintest of light peeking out under only one door, all the others tightly shut and seemingly dark inside.  It was past midnight, and there were lessons first thing tomorrow morning.  He’s hesitant for only a second as he reaches the door, but adrenaline takes over again and he’s knocking as quietly as he can.
He can barely hear someone inside, although he doesn’t make out any real words.  Just to be safe, he knocks again.
“H’llo?” A tired voice calls back a little louder this time.
Yuuta’s hand is shaking when he reaches for the latch and slides the door open, just barely peeking inside.
He’d seen (y/n’s) room maybe once in passing, but he hadn’t taken a real glance, and definitely never stepped inside.  Now, he takes it all in with his face lit up in pure astonishment.
It’s decorated with string lights, soft and twinkling slowly here and there.  Just enough to give some ambience without it being overpowering.  Her small television is flickering with the title screen of her adored movie.  She’s curled up in a heap of blankets on the bed, and for a few seconds he thinks she’s asleep.  But her head tiredly lifts to see who her visitor was, and like a switch, she’s full of energy.
“Yuuta!” 
His name falls from her lips in soft awe, and she’s throwing her blankets back and sitting upright, shifting to get out of bed.  Yuuta’s beaming back at her, stepping into the room and turning to slide the door shut behind him.  The others would be quite annoyed if they were to be woken up at this hour.
She’s stumbling a bit towards him, her arms outstretched and her face in a lazy grin.  It takes no time at all for her to cross the room and throw her arms around him to hug him tightly.  Yuuta’s careful to hold his bag of goodies to the side so they don’t get crushed when he reciprocates the tight hug.
He hadn’t hugged her before he left for Africa.  He hadn’t hugged anyone, actually.  Just waved as he bid them goodbye.  Hugging her now feels like something he’d waited for for ages, and finally getting to hold her against him has his heart soaring.
“You’re finally home,” She’s smiling into his chest, and pulls away only so she can grin up at him, properly taking in his pretty eyes and longer hair.  She’s just about to comment on the change in style before she notices the bag in his hand, and focuses on it instead.  “Did you bring gifts?” She asks with a playful smirk.
“Uh- yeah, I mean, sorta,” He stammers, his face getting warmer than he would’ve liked as he opens the bag and glances inside, suddenly apprehensive about handing them to her.  “It’s not from Africa, but they are necessities,” He tells her.
(y/n) raises a brow curiously, before prompting him to show her what he brought.
Yuuta’s sheepish as he reaches in the bag and produces a family size package of lemon flavored oreos.  It seemed like a great idea when he’d picked them up, but now he feels anxiety twisting in stomach as he presents them to her.
“Lemon oreos!” (y/n’s) nothing short of delighted as she takes the package from his hands, already peeling back the plastic to snatch one and take a bite right away.  She hums as she finishes the cookie, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she seals the package again.  “You remembered, thank you.  We’ll definitely finish those tonight” She says with a laugh.
“Don’t worry, I brought my own snack, they’re all yours” He says softly.  She brightens even further at the prospect.
“You really know the way to a woman’s heart, Okkotsu” She teases.  
After months of getting teased over the phone, he finally gets to witness it first hand.  Her cheeks are pink and her eyes shift between his and other spots around the room bashfully.  He wonders if she was always so shy when she’d teased him before.
His smile softens as he reaches into the bag again, carefully holding the other gift as he pulls it from the bag.  (y/n’s) eyes widen and her lips part as she takes in the sight of the beautiful arrangement of flowers he was holding.  It was simple, a pretty bouquet of lilies, lily of the valley, to be specific, she recognized them as the same white flowers scattered around the courtyard.  Her eyes were locked on the bouquet as Yuuta picked around it a bit, making sure every flower was perfect and presentable.
“It’s not, uh, the most expensive bouquet in the world,” He mumbles anxiously once he deems the flowers pretty enough to hand to her.
She looks up at him as though silently asking if they were really for her, her surprise evident in the way she stared at him in soft surprise before she finally took the flowers.  Her movements are slow and so, so careful, not wanting to bend a single stem out of place.
“But, still, um,” With his hands free Yuuta begins to fiddle, scratching at the nape of his neck as he struggles to meet her gaze.  “Y’know, I just wanted to… give you flowers” 
A smile breaks out across her face as she leans close to them to take in a whiff, soothed by the gentle, clean scent that fills her nose.
“I love them,” She murmurs, still staring in awe at the pretty arrangement.  “Can I take a picture?” She asks, and he nods wordlessly.  He finally takes in a breath of air when she turns around to grab her phone from the bed, not having realized he’d been holding it since handing her the intimate gift.
What he doesn’t realize is she’s bounding back over to him with her phone in hand, the camera flipped around so she can take a selfie of her flowers with him very much in it.
“C’mon, smile!” She giggles as she turns her phone sideways, eyeing the image of him with his blushing face and wide eyes, obviously caught off guard.
She snaps the photo when he throws up a peace sign and gives the most relaxed smile he can, his eyes closed and his cheeks undeniably pink.  (y/n) admires it before tucking her phone back into her pocket and clutching the flowers close to her chest lovingly.
“Thank you so much,” She gives them one last affectionate glance before tucking them carefully into a jar on her desk- after she dumped all the pens in it onto her workspace without a second thought.  Yuuta almost laughed at how quickly she made the mess and left it in order for the bouquet to have a safe home.  Once she’s sure they’re safe and sound, she turns back to him again.
It’s funny how out of place he looks standing in her doorway.  Long legs and broad shoulders taking up more space in her room than she would’ve thought.  She’d almost forgotten how large Yuuta was.  Somehow, it made it funnier that he looked so lost.  Like he didn’t want to take a step, and didn’t know what to do with his hands.  She could tell he was trying his best to come across as comfortable as he could, but she could see the wince behind his smile, and his slowly shifting feet.  
He looks out of place now, but she likes having him here.  She likes that he smells like sandalwood, and something sweet like vanilla.  She likes that he’s still holding the paper bag that he’d brought her gift in, not wanting to drop it somewhere in her room like a piece of litter.  She likes that when their eyes meet he smiles, and crinkles form on his eyes that compliment his blushing face.
She likes everything about Yuuta, but right now, she likes that he was the first boy to ever bring her flowers most of all.
So despite her racing heart, she decides to tell him so.
“I’m glad you were the first guy to ever give me flowers” 
Yuuta’s smile drops slightly as his face softens with surprise, eyebrows raising higher when she steps even closer to him.
He’s holding his breath again when she leans onto the tips of her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek.  The feeling of her lips brushing over his skin only makes it heat up more, and against his will he lets out a little gasp for air.  (y/n) giggles when she stands flat on her feet again, her nose slightly wrinkled at her amusement at how easily Yuuta flusters.
She’s starting to think to herself that she should test just how much she can fluster him while he’s here, when he’s suddenly the one taking her breath away.
He steps forward to close the distance between them again, dropping the paper bag so he can slide his hands under her jaw, tilting it upwards so he can lean down and kiss her with ease.  A gasp dies in the back of her throat just as his lips touch hers, the hesitation from her surprise only momentary.  
For a soft kiss, Yuuta radiates so much passion her knees feel weak, and her hands are firm as they press into his shoulders, desperate to keep herself upright.  Even his hands are gentle, their touch warm and featherlight against her face.
She longs to press impossibly closer and explore his every last dip and crevice, but for right now, everything is perfect.  His gentleness, his sweetness, him, she couldn’t have hoped for a more lovely first kiss.
Just as the kiss was, he pulls away slowly, forehead still touching hers.  A short sigh escapes him before his lips turn into a smile.  (y/n) watches as his mouth stretches and curls, her own face mirroring the expression, before her eyes flicker up to his to see he’s staring down at her.
“Sorry, I-” He shakes his head, trying to find just the right words to tell her how long he’d been thinking about doing that.  His mind is too foggy so he runs his mouth with abandon.  “I’ve just really wanted to do that” He murmurs.
(y/n) giggles, her face blooming with color at the blatant confession.  It had her heart going haywire even more after the kiss, and any hopes of being the one to fluster him goes out the window.  She’s putty in his hands and he must know it.
“Don’t be sorry,” She whispers back, shyly averting her gaze, not that it does her any favors, he’s still cradling her face and keeping her so close that it felt there was no shying away from him.  “I… I was hoping to talk to you, um, when you got back,” She says, the grin on her face betraying her as she tried to casually mention her feelings for him.  “About, y’know, hanging out more, ‘n stuff” 
Yuuta chuckles at her bashful nonchalance, nodding his head back at her with an excited gleam in his eyes.
“I’d like to hang out more and stuff,” He hums, dropping his hands from her face and nodding to where she’d set up the movie hours earlier.  “Should we start with watching your movie?” 
Excitement flashes in her eyes as she nods her head back at him, before taking his hand and tugging him over to the comfort of her bed.
“Settle in, your mind is about to be blown by literary perfection and cinematic masterpiece.  This is their love child” 
He chuckles, falling into the mattress with her and getting settled against the mountain of pillows at her headboard while she searches her blankets for the remote.  His chest is still vibrating with adrenaline, but as he sinks into a comfortable bed for the first time in months, he finds himself relaxing.
Despite his body feeling like it was the late afternoon, he feels as though he could go right to sleep.
It helps when (y/n) passes out first.  Her body slumps against his and she snores softly against his chest.  It’s such an amusing sight he can’t help but take a photo for her to wake up to in her messages.  He pauses the movie so that they can pick it up from where they left off tomorrow, and then settles deeper into the cozy bed.
The comfort he felt with every text received from her, every phone call to keep him company in the last few months of being away and being alone, it seems almost personified now.  Resting here beside her, simply sharing the same space, Yuuta feels the same wave of relief now.  He can’t help but smile to himself as he settles under the covers, being careful to not disturb her peaceful slumber.
He’s asleep in a matter of minutes.  The warmth of her body so close and the plush mattress working together to put his mind at such ease he didn’t even notice he was tired until he was closing his eyes and drifting off.
It was good to be home.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[ fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // i really do ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
xoxo ~ jordie
a/n: gojo pays the international phone bills obviously so don't be commenting on it
1K notes · View notes
cherienymphe · 1 year ago
Text
I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)
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WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader
➥ Happy Halloween weekend!
➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1
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summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.
~
You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.
No one left for you to escape from.
Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.
Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…
Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.
When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.
The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.
Even if they didn’t want to say it.
“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”
You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.
“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.
Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.
It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.
It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.
“Jesus!”
You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.
“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.
“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”
“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”
Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.
“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”
By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.
“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”
Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.
“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”
Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.
“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.
The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.
“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.
“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”
Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.
He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.
…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.
“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.
Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.
Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.
It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.
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“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”
You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.
Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.
The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.
“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”
You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.
“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”
Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.
Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.
The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.
You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.
Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.
“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.
“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”
Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.
“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”
While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.
“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”
You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.
“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”
You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.
“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”
You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.
“If they haven’t found him by now then…”
She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.
All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.
…and you’d killed him.
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John B was the first to die.
…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.
Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.
You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.
When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.
“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”
You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.
“What…? I don’t…”
You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.
“They found him in the water, man.”
Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.
“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”
At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.
…but drowning?
John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.
That you could believe.
“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.
Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.
It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.
The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.
You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.
He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.
You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.
Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.
There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.
JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.
“Why was he out there so late?”
That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.
“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.
“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”
“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”
Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.
“I’m just saying-.”
“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”
The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.
“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”
He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.
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You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.
You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.
Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.
The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.
“What’s wrong-?”
JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.
It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.
For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.
The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.
It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.
That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.
It was Rafe.
“Are you okay…?”
You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.
“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”
“I shouldn’t have done that-.”
“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”
He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.
The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.
“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”
You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.
“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”
You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.
“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”
You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.
“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”
Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.
…and that night never would’ve happened.
With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.
You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.
When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.
JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.
“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.
You spoke without thinking.
“Call Pope again.”
You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.
…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.
You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.
With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.
You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.
Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.
“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”
His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.
“…what?” you choked out after some time.
His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.
“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”
You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.
“Someone…someone cut his throat.”
At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.
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Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.
In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.
It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.
You were only responsible for one of them.
“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”
JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.
“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”
She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”
Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.
You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.
“Now, hold on-.”
“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”
You swallowed, hating this conversation.
“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.
The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.
“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”
“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”
You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.
“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”
“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”
It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.
…but Rafe was dead.
He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.
Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.
“First it was Rafe…”
You tensed at the sound of the voice.
“…then John B. and now Pope.”
You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.
“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.
You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.
When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.
Until now.
The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.
“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.
The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.
Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.
“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.
Sarah glanced at you at that.
“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.
Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.
“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”
She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.
“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.
When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.
“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.
“…and he’s dead.”
“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”
“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”
“Sarah-.”
“I said stop!”
The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.
“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.
Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.
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You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.
Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.
Tonight, it was three.
Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.
Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.
The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.
You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.
“Cleo?”
Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.
Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.
The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.
As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.
It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.
There was no light coming from downstairs.
The kitchen light was now off.
Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.
“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.
“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”
Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.
“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.
You tried to keep calm.
“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.
Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”
JJ was right.
“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”
You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.
“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”
As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.
When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.
“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”
You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.
Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.
You couldn’t not hold her.
By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.
You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.
“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”
You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.
Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.
You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:
“She broke her neck.”
That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.
“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”
Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.
“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”
You swallowed.
“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”
Tears kissed your eyes.
“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”
Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.
…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.
That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.
“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.
“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”
You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.
“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”
She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.
“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”
“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”
“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.
There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.
It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.
He’d only been focused on killing you.
As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.
You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.
“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.
You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.
“Y/N…”
“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”
Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!
“Y/N-,”
“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”
You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.
“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.
You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.
“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”
“Or it could be Rafe!”
Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.
“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”
You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.
“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”
“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”
You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.
“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”
“What-?”
“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”
“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.
“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”
“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”
Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.
“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”
Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.
When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.
It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?
It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…
Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.
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With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.
Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.
Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.
…but not like this.
You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.
…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.
What else would they get out of moving his remains?
Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.
They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.
“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”
JJ heaved a sigh.
“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”
He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.
…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.
“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”
You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.
Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.
“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”
JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.
“I know you killed him,” he confessed.
Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.
“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”
“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”
You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.
“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.
JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.
“I know what you’re thinking…”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.
“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”
You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.
“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”
You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.
“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”
He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.
“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”
You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.
Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.
You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.
Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.
Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.
Their throats were slit.
Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.
Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.
She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.
“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”
He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.
“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.
You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.
The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.
“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.
You didn’t realize why until you looked back.
Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.
He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.
You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.
A gunshot stopped his efforts.
“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.
You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.
JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.
A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.
You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.
Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.
“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.
You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.
“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.
Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.
“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”
She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.
“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”
The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.
“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.
You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.
“What?” you breathed.
“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.
She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.
“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”
“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”
You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.
“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.
The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.
The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?
You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.
You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.
The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.
You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.
Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.
You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.
The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.
Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.
The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.
Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.
…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.
There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.
…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.
You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.
You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.
He never called you by your name, it was always—
“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.
The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.
“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.
“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”
Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.
“Why?”
He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.
“Why what…?”
“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”
You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.
“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”
His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…
The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.
“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”
Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.
“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”
Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.
“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”
The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.
“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”
The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.
“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”
He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.
“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”
His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.
“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.
It was genuine.
“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”
His words confused you.
“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”
You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.
You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.
He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.
“Word of advice…”
You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.
“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”
A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.
“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”
Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.
“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”
You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.
That wasn’t healing.
That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.
“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”
It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.
“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”
He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.
“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”
He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.
It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.
“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.
Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.
“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”
Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.
“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”
He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.
“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.
“Rafe…” you choked out.
“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”
You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.
“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”
When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.
“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.
“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”
His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.
“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”
You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.
“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”
You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.
“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.
Rafe was excited.
“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”
He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.
“Do you know what’s better than that?”
His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.
“No,” you muttered.
Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.
“Having you all to myself.”
You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.
You heard him whistle.
“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”
You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.
“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”
The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.
Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.
You breath hitched as you froze.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”
You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.
“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”
When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.
Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.
“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”
You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.
With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.
He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”
It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.
As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.
Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.
“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”
You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.
“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”
A particular hard thrust made you gasp.
“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”
You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.
“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”
He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.
“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”
2K notes · View notes
suzukiblu · 1 month ago
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Day twenty-seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))
They spend a lot longer than Tim actually expects Kon to want to spend on that “couple things”, since obviously they can’t start with the exciting stuff and he just assumes Kon will get bored in about thirty seconds’ worth of Tim Drake’s awkward and over-detailed explanations of every little thing and also will experience immediate regret about admitting that he both doesn’t know how to do something and isn’t going to be immediately good at said something. Any time Kon’s not immediately good at something they’re doing in training he gets mad or pissy or at least frustrated and acts like a total asshole about it, but right now . . . 
Kon falls off the board and lands on his ass for the third time and for the third time just grins up at him sheepishly, and Tim feels very weird and not-normal and sort of just–smitten about it, really. 
“This is way different from surfing,” Kon says with a laugh, shaking his head, which is a little surprising to hear for some reason. If nothing else, Tim would’ve expected Kon to get even more frustrated, if he was assuming any apparent surfing experience might’ve helped him out here. He has heard it usually does, so maybe Kon’s just out of practice or his own standards are just, uh–a little too Bat, maybe. 
“Is it?” he asks, offering Kon a hand up again. Kon did it for him earlier, and anyway, it kinda makes him feel like carrying the other’s bags for him and being trusted with his weight feels. And Kon takes his hand, just like the last two times, and lets him help him up like there’s literally any reason he needs to bother to. “I’ve never tried surfing.” 
“It’s wicked,” Kon says, grinning at him again and giving his hands a quick squeeze before heading over to retrieve the board from where it skidded when he fell. He does not fall like a Bat, but he definitely does know how to. He’s just also clearly expecting his falls to be more of a “terminal velocity” situation than a “tripping off a skateboard” situation. Which, like–fair, yeah. “You gotta use your arms way more, though, and like, it just feels way more like you’re riding something, you know? Concrete just kinda sits there and there’s way less wind to worry about.” 
“Oh, yeah, I never really thought about the wind,” Tim says. Waves, definitely, but he didn’t follow the thought to its logical conclusion. “Pretty sure people based skateboarding on surfing to start, though, so is it really that different? Like, mechanically?” 
“I dunno,” Kon says with a shrug, tucking the board under his arm and trotting back over to him. “I mean, kinda? But also wheels are way harder to feel the ground through ‘cuz they’re spinning the whole time, so sometimes I get dizzy if I hold onto ‘em too much. And like, water moves a lot more than concrete, but the board’s totally flat against it, so like–easier to feel it, I guess? Just feels, like, more intense, kinda.” 
“. . . that’s really interesting, but are you seriously trying to use your TTK when you skate?” Tim asks, trying not to laugh at the idea even though he definitely should’ve expected it. “You’re such a cheater.” 
“Hey, I use TTK when I everything, thanks, and it’s not cheating!” Kon protests with another laugh, which is definitely not the way Superboy would’ve responded to Robin saying something like that. “You’re not cheating when you use your friggin’ ears and eyes, are you?” 
“Oh, blind skateboarding, that sounds terrifying,” Tim muses, and Kon laughs again. 
“I’d die! You’d die!” he says, sounding incredibly delighted about the prospect. 
“So I’m hearing we start with the low ramps, then,” Tim replies reasonably. 
“Oh my god, Tim,” Kon cackles, and then ducks in close to throw his free arm around his neck and kiss him again, his TTK wrapping around him for just a quick flash of pressure of its own. 
Tim feels–very weird, again. 
Specifically, he feels very weird hearing Kon’s voice saying his real name, especially right before kissing him. Kissing him, and also wrapping him up completely in the power he just identified as being as important and natural to him as his hearing and vision and, presumably, any other senses are. 
And again, Kon is clearly really, really tactile, so that’s hard not to be weird about too. 
Kon leans back, back to grinning at him, and Tim feels vaguely mortified and vaguely like eating him alive and also like this date has gone absolutely nothing like he planned, despite his best efforts. Kon brought him a present and he hasn’t bought Kon anything but an amount of grilled cheese sandwiches that can only be described as “inadvisable” and has in fact spent way more money on himself than he has on Kon, plus they’ve spent basically the whole date so far doing things he likes, not– 
“Um, just in case like a building collapses or a supervillain happens or whatever and I gotta run off early, um . . . thanks. For tonight, I mean,” Kon says, the grin he’s barely dropped briefly slipping into something a little shyer, and Tim stares blankly at him for a moment and feels like an insane person, or at least like he maybe just hallucinated that. “I’m really having fun.” 
Tim needs to check on the possibility of hallucinations, yeah. 
“You are?” he asks, fully bewildered by the idea, and Kon laughs again. 
“Obviously, you frickin’ nerd!” he says, then gives him a quick, sheepish smile and another peck on the cheek before turning that almost-inhuman shade of red again and pulling back, putting the board in front of himself and between them. Tim gently simmers to a boil and breaks down into a broth as every single ounce of meat in his body falls right off the bone. “I always have fun with you.” 
. . . Tim is maybe less a broth and now more, like, a stew that somebody left in the crockpot all day, or however Mrs. Mac used to do it. 
“Oh,” he says, desperately trying to remember how to string a functional sentence together that does not sound like a dropped typewriter. “Uh–good! Good. Um–I’m glad. Good. Me, uh–me too.” 
Kon blushes even darker and grins at him again, rocking back on his heels for a moment. 
“Cool,” he says. “Um–thanks, Tim. Again. Some more. I dunno.” 
Tim, again, feels very weird about hearing Kon say his real name, and some part of him kind of thinks, in an odd and distant way–did he just, like . . . forget how to just . . . not be Robin? Like–how to turn it off, and just feel the actually genuine things as Tim Drake, and not just the mask or the sidekick or the namesake? 
Well, that can’t be good. 
Kon keeps grinning at him, half-shadowed in the Gotham night and half-lit by electric Gotham streetlights and looking nothing like anything else Tim’s ever seen in Gotham, and Tim is definitely going to need to pencil in a couple hours on Sunday night to be an incoherent mess about him and also maybe, like . . . process some things, maybe. Think some stuff through. Adjust some– 
“So like, wanna go make out for a while in the full pipe?” Kon suggests hopefully, tipping his head towards it, and Tim forgets literally every single layer of other thoughts he was having. They are literally no longer relevant to anything and he does not care about a single one of them. 
“Yeah, okay,” he says, maybe a little too red himself now, and Kon grins. 
The full pipe helpfully informs them both that Tim can, in fact, give Kon a hickey if the other lets him, and helpfully informs Tim that he is never, ever going to be able to be in the same tri-state area as a mind-reader again. 
Well, he should probably be avoiding those for the next fifteen years anyway, so whatever.
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gutsby · 7 months ago
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Love Tap
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Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader
Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.
Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.
Word count: 2.4k
Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’
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Joel Miller was a wonderful father.
Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.
He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.
Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.
It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.
But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.
On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.
“Joel, you are so—”
“Quick. I’ll be quick.”
His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.
“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.
“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.
Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.
By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.
“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.
“More’a what?”
Aw, hell.
Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.
You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:
“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”
“None of your beeswax, bubs.”
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Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.
He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.
“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.
“Fuck your buns.”
“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”
Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.
“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”
Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.
Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’
That was just fine by your husband.
In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.
Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.
“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.
“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.
Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.
Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.
He bit that finger. You yelped.
“JOEL!”
It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.
When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’
Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.
Mama.
He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.
He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.
Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.
“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”
“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.
Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.
“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.
“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”
Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.
One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.
Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.
It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.
And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.
Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.
Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.
“All better, honey?” he hummed.
“Yeah,” you breathed back.
“Still want a divorce?”
A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?
Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.
“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.
He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.
Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary
You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.
Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.
“He-llo?”
You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.
“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.
Yes, unfortunately, it was.
You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.
“This is she,” you squeaked.
Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.
Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:
“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”
Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.
“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.
“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”
‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.
“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.
You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—
“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”
“Wait, what?”
You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.
“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”
You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.
“Honey—”
“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”
You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.
You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.
You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.
Was it—
Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,
“My buns!”
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kkayyerr · 2 months ago
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Cute & Creepy
Summary: Rafe finding his little one with his gun in her hands.
Cw: Age regression, little!reader, slight angst, fluff in the end.
Trigger warnings: Weapon, shouting, slight swearing, dark!Rafe.
author’s note: English isn’t my first language, so don’t be a meanie!
Rafe spend almost an hour wondering around the house and trying to find his gun. He never had lost it before so the whole situation was very intimidating for him for two particular reasons.
One, he hated feeling himself unprotected and not having his weapon with him.
And two, he knew that you were regressed right now which had meant that you would probably take that thing for the toy if you would find it first.
Rafe tried to search for it everywhere and had already made a mess out of his room. When the gun was nowhere to be found he started to slowly losing his shit. How could he even let that happened in the first place and why does that had to happen right now, when he needed that thing the most? Of course he wanted his gun to be on his hands always, just so he could’ve been prepared to some crazy shit that Pogues might wanna push, but he wanted it to be there especially when you where little.
You could’ve get killed, injured, kidnapped or else, and he definitely couldn’t let that happened.
Rafe reached for his phone and found Barry’s number quickly, prepared to call him as he heard a loud noise coming from the downstairs that made him flinch.
Gunshot.
Shit.
He threw his phone on the nightstand and stormed out of the room, running downstairs as quick as it was possible.
When he came into the living room he saw you. And his gun in your shaking little hands.
You turned your head to the sounds of his footsteps, the look of pure terror on your face. You didn’t know what exactly scared you that much, the fact that you just had left a bullet hole in the wall, or the angry gaze that Rafe gave you when he saw his gun in your hand.
He quickly approached you grabbing your wrist tightly, and snatching the gun out of your hand.
He gave you two painful slaps on both of your hands.
„How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my shit, huh?”
You remained silent, putting your head down. You didn’t like seeing him like this. Every time he would shout at you or just gave you a disappointed look you had felt very guilty for what you had done to make him unpleased.
You always wanted to make him proud, since the first day him being your caregiver.
Or at least it what he had tought you.
You had to make him proud to earn his affection and attention.
He harshly grabbed your chin, pulling your head up and making you look him in the eyes, as he bend down to your level.
„Look at me! How many times?”
Your gaze became blurry from the tears that appeared in your eyes when you saw exactly how angry he was with you. You already knew what that meant.
No playtime, no cuddles and of course no sweets for almost a week.
„M..many.“
His grip on your chin became softer, as he saw the tears in your eyes. Yes, he might’ve been a strict daddy, but he definitely didn’t like to see his little girl cry because of his behavior that might’ve been a bit much sometimes.
„Exactly. And why in the hell did I catch you there with the god damn gun in your hand?“
You let out a heavy sigh. You didn’t know how to explain that exactly, but seeing him so tired and angry all the time for the couple of last weeks haven’t been sitting right with you. You wanted to help Rafe, protect him from his enemies that he had been talking about with his folks. You wanted to protect him from everything and everyone, actually, because what would you let someone hurt your daddy?
„Wanted to pwotect you, daddy.”
You muttered, as your cheeks slightly blushed. For some reasons you didn’t wanted him to know that you actually cared about him that much.
Rafe’s eyes widened at your response, which he definitely didn’t expected from you.
Protect?
His gaze softened and his tone now became more gentle, as your quiet confess made his cold heart melt a little bit.
„Protect me from what, baby?”
He asked, a small smile now playing on his lips, as his expression now was almost soft, which was a rare occasion for him. Your lips were also tugged into smile, the shy one, as you were trying to find the right words in your little head.
„Bad people.”
Your words almost made him chuckle, but he kept his expression serious, now trying to find a way to calm you down and made those stupid thoughts about „protection” disappear.
He nodded to you, and then slowly pulled you close, patting your head in the calming manner.
He was glad that you weren’t smart enough to understand that „bad person” in question was now holding you in his arms.
„You don’t need to protect me, baby, that my job, understood? I will protect the both of us.”
He held you close to him, as you hide your face in his neck, probably trying to find some comfort after reliving a stressful situation. He tried to kept his tone firm, even though little proud smile formed on his lips.
„Daddy?”
You whispered in his neck, your voice gentle, and somehow Rafe knew that you were about to drop yet another confession.
You looked up, and your eyes had those little sly glimpse in them for a second before you spoke up.
„I also know how to use a knifey.”
Rafe couldn’t help himself but laugh at your admission. He gently ruffled your hair, giving you a small kiss on your forehead, showing that there is no consequences this time.
„You are actually a daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?”
The next day Rafe showed up home with a pink toy gun that he had bought specifically for you.
Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 and my dear Polly who I couldn’t tag because of tumblr for some reason😭.
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purple-babygirl · 9 months ago
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in the far corner of the forest I
Pairings: Orc!Bucky Barnes x f!human!reader Word Count: 3,867 Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though. Warnings: drugging, sort of kidnapping, crying, a lil dirty talk, nudity, unwanted intimate touching, forced/arranged marriage. 18+ content. A/N: I thought I'd start small and see what you guys think first before posting longer chapters. Please let me know your thoughts if you can and please enjoy xx💜💜
~
“Don’t be dead already, dammit.” She heard a low voice mutter as she regained her consciousness bit by bit.
Her body felt so weak, her mind so fuzzy. Her head felt heavy as she turned it to the side with a groan, slowly opening her eyes.
The room she was in looked warm and kind of homely. It was a large room that looked like it was both a living room and a bedroom, only illuminated by the light coming from the fireplace and a couple of storm lanterns hung around.
“Ah, finally awake! How ya feelin’?” The rough voice asked her, now sounding louder.
She’s never sat up faster than she did when she saw the strange man standing at the end of the large bed. 
Her vision went black for a second and her head hurt, but she fought to open her eyes, deeming it unsafe to close them with a strange man around.
Wait, was he even a man? Shit! Was that a metal arm on him?! He appeared to be wearing dog tags.
Has she been kidnapped? Arrested? But what for? She didn’t step into forbidden territory, did she?
“Are you—?”
“A real orc? Yeah.” He smirked confidently.
“And your arm…” she started, sitting herself up straighter as she cradled her head.
He only chuckled, feeding more wood to the fire warming them up.
“Is—is that—”
His smirk widened, “a real metal arm?”
She nodded.
The orc nodded back mockingly and her head was back to spinning.
She was alone, in an unfamiliar place, with a massive snow orc, who had a metal left arm.
It seemed surreal. She felt high; like she was dreaming or making everything she was seeing up in her head. Her mind must be doing an Alice-in-Wonderland bit on her.
“I need to go,” she whispered, more to herself than the stranger, trying to get her feet on the ground but the soldier tutted at her and she froze.
“Not gon’ happen.” He walked closer, watching her cute, little face twist in confusion and fear.
“What?” she asked dumbly, her voice small and shaky.
“You’re not leaving.” He stood before her, huge arms crossed.
“Please, I- I didn’t mean to trespass. I swear. I barely even leave the orph—”
“What are you talking about?” He raised an eyebrow, his large hand getting closer to try and touch her forehead to see if the sleeping potion gave her a temperature.
She immediately flinched, dodging his touch as she started panicking inside. She took a couple of steps back as she tried to rearrange her thoughts, but she couldn’t.
“I— how did I get here?” she asked, her voice sounding way more scared than she had wanted.
“You’re my bride,” the orc informed her with another smile, tusks glinting, and if she wasn’t so terrified she might’ve thought that was a happy smile.
The previous events rushed back to her mind as she remembered her encounter with the orphanage manager just days ago. So the woman did end up giving her to the soldier as promised. She didn’t protect her from that terrible fate.
The woman who had raised her just so easily put her to sleep and let some savage stranger collect her as his trophy wife even after she'd begged her not to.
“Who did you think an orphan like you was gonna marry? A prince? This is not a fairytale kingdom! I’m doing you a favour.” She remembered the woman’s demeaning comment and how she mocked her in front of the rest of the girls.
“No, no.” She shook her head, tears pearling in her frightened eyes, “there must have been a mistake.”
“Oh, little human, quit whimpering. There’s been no mistake; you’re my mate.” His big thumb swiped across her chin. “I have you now and I’m never gonna let you go,” he told her with longing she didn’t understand.
His words made the dam collapse as she burst into tears, loud sobs tearing through her chest as she hunched over and cried.
This couldn’t be her fate. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest or the slimmest of girls out there, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to end up as a reward for some metal-armed monster. She was a good girl, she’s always been good. She deserved better.
Why did it have to be her that they offered? Why did it have to be anyone? Everyone knew what he was and who he was and they still handed her over like she meant nothing.
“Shush now, enough crying. I don’t like the sight of puffy eyes. Come on, you’re ruining our wedding night,” the orc said, his expression bored as he started to take his heavy sweater off.
She wished she hadn’t looked up at him.
He was big. Huge. What wedding night was he talking about? Was he trying to destroy her? End her?
“What are you doing?” She trembled as the words left her.
He raised a suggestive eyebrow and she chocked on a sob.
“No, no, please.” She shook her head again, crying harder.
“Stop. Crying,” he warned, grinding his teeth and she stopped her wailing at once, swallowing the lump stuck in her throat.
“Much better. Now get yourself out of these clothes,” the orc demanded, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of her oversized, handed down pullover.
“Please don’t do this.” Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes frantically searching for an exit.
“You have one minute to be standing bare in front of me or I’m gonna have you find out what I do to those who make me repeat myself,” he seethed, his eyes hard as they pinned her in place.
“I— I’ve never…” she muttered, her face growing hotter as she fiddled her fingers, “please, I can’t.”
“Oh, you’ve never been fucked, little human?” He teased her, his smile bordering on a smug smirk.
She winced at his vulgar language but nodded, “I’ve never been with a man, in any way.”
Tears were back to her cheeks again at her humiliating confession. She knew it was her last hope and if he didn’t have mercy on her because of that then nothing was going to stop what he was about to do to her.
“Never?” He asked again, circling around her just to see her tremble under his starved gaze.
“Never,” she whispered, feeling as uncomfortable as never before.
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you all the tricks,” the orc chuckled, playing with her hair and she could all but sob again, "I'm only half orc after all".
Was that supposed to be comforting?!
It just made her sob harder.
“What did I say about crying?”
“Please let me go.” She begged, body shaking with her sobs.
“No.”
“W—Why not? I’ll give you all I have if you let me out of here. Anything you want. Please.” She cried and pled although she knew she had nothing to give him.
“I have all I want right here.” He leaned forward to smell her hair, his huge arm squeezing her side almost gently.
If she wasn’t so terrified of what was to come next she would’ve seen the way he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he has ever seen in his miserable life. Like she was an actual trophy that only he was lucky enough to win.
“Please—”
“40 seconds, little human,” he warned, his face scary and showing nothing but impatience and anger.
There was no way out of this, was there? The door was too far and even if she managed to get out, he would easily catch her and who knows what he’d do to her then. At least he’s asking ‘nicely’ for now. Nice enough for a rough snow orc with a metal arm.
Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she grabbed her pullover and just stood there fiddling.
“Could— could you look the other way, please?” she pleaded, her eyes too ashamed to meet his.
The orc huffed before giving her his back and allowing her these few seconds of privacy.
He thought it was ridiculous though because he was going to turn around and see her anyway, but decided he’d try and be understanding just because it was her first night with him.
“You’re not wearing that many clothes,” he complained after a minute and she whimpered behind him.
He took it as his cue to turn around and when he did she was as naked as the day she was born, holding the large sweater to her chest, trying to cover up.
“Let me see you now, come on,” the orc cooed, licking his lips at the sight of what was exposed of her before slowly pulling the item of clothing out of her death grip.
She stood there shivering from both cold and fear, shyness gnawing at her insides as the brute’s eyes skimmed down every nude inch of her.
Hell, she was beautiful. Goddesses had nothing on his bride.
“Now why would you hide such beauty from me, hmm?” He bit his lip, taking her hand in his larger one, “come here.”
She choked on another whimper as he forced her closer to his body. She could feel the heat radiating off of his chest and it made her shiver more.
The orc’s rough palms massaged her arms before settling on her bare hips, holding her close to him.
“The name’s Bucky, just so you know what to scream,” he whispered in her ear, softly kissing the spot behind her earlobe.
He felt her tense in his hold and tried to ignore the way it made him feel.
“Please,” she tried one more time but swallowed the rest of her words when Bucky’s face showed irritation.
“I’m sure I can make you cry and beg just fine, little human. Stop wasting both outside of bed,” he told her, his voice firm and authoritative, making her wipe her tears away at once.
“Speaking of the bed, go lay down for me, will you, sweet thing?”
His soft tone scared her more than his harsh one and she didn’t know what was real. It still felt like a nightmare that she would wake up from any moment.
Every muscle in her body was taut, tense with anxiety. Her face burned with disgrace from being exposed like this for the first time in her life and not willingly either.
This wasn’t how her first time was supposed to be. She shouldn’t be forced into it, let alone with an enormous half orc who had no feelings for her and neither she for him.
She desperately wanted to cry it out, but squeezed her eyes shut before she could so Bucky wouldn’t scold her again.
He climbed on top of her, caging her legs between his as his muscly arms framed her head, supporting himself up.
It might’ve been her mind trying to calm her down, but she didn’t think she saw Bucky looking at her with lust. She was expecting to see nothing in his eyes but hunger, like a ravenous beast would look at a piece of meat, but instead she could see… admiration?
Bucky wanted to kiss her but thought against it and pressed his lips to her cheek instead, letting them travel down to her jaw so he could reach her neck.
“Please go easy on me,” she whispered her plea when she felt Bucky’s ‘thing’ poke around her naked thighs.
He was big. So big.
Even if she had had sex before this night, she knew no man could have been enough preparation for the size she was making him out to be.
Bucky didn’t reply, letting his lips kiss and suck on her neck and when he pressed them to her pulse point, he felt like shit about himself.
Her heart was beating like crazy, pounding so hard it must’ve hurt inside her chest.
She didn’t want it at all. She was clearly scared and if her heart was hammering like that he could only feel bad for making her do this.
Bucky pulled away to look at her, her eyes were shut tight, her body trembling still and her fists closed up by her sides as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing.
He let his hand touch her tummy and she quivered but didn’t try to move away. He kissed between her breasts and she whimpered in fear, quickly biting her lip after.
Bucky took a deep breath before gliding his hand up her leg, watching as she her teeth almost drew blood from her lower lip as she bit down hard to prevent herself from crying, panting through her nose.
When he reached her inner thighs she was digging her fingernails in her palms so hard she was sure she’d hurt herself.
Bucky tried to be gentle as he slowly slipped a thick finger up further to touch the cut of her.
She whimpered again but Bucky didn’t stop, dipping the tip of his finger in just a little bit to feel her. He could see her trying so hard not to close her legs as her thighs shook and she started nearly gasping, her eyes still tightly closed.
Bucky swiped his finger between her lips and she was dry as a desert.
She wasn’t wet for him at all. She wasn’t anything but petrified. Nothing about her told him that she wanted this.
Bucky took his hand away and sat back, letting out a sigh as he ran his big hand through his hair.
He didn’t care what the humans of the kingdom thought about him, he knew he wasn’t actually a monster. He thought he could do it even if she didn’t want it, but he couldn’t. He thought it was enough if he wanted and knew how to do it, but it wasn’t.
He knew he didn’t need love to make babies, nor did he need her agreement. But Bucky just couldn’t hurt her, not like that.
He could get her wet enough with his tongue, but he couldn’t find it in himself to force her into this, not on their first night and not in a million years.
He couldn’t set her up for a war she would lose with her own body when her heart and mind wanted nothing to do with him. He knew how big he was; he knew it would be torture for her if she didn’t want it.
Bucky hated that she looked so scared of him. He didn’t want to scare her further. Maybe at first he'd found it amusing, but for some reason that wasn’t the case anymore.
The way she was hiccupping and trembling under him was anything but a turn on.
He couldn’t go through with this.
“Get dressed,” Bucky said as he got up from the bed, pulling his own pants up his thick thighs, ignoring his hard cock.
“W-what?” She opened her eyes, her eyelashes wet with unshed tears as she stared at him blankly.
Was she imagining this?
“Now, before I change my mind.” He really didn’t like repeating himself.
“O-okay! Thank you.” She hated that he made her stutter so much.
Bucky gave her his back, putting his own sweater back on and she got up quickly, nearly stumbling off the bed as she reached for her underwear and slipped it on. Her pullover was next and when her head was through, she noticed Bucky standing by the door, watching her.
She went to grab her shoes but Bucky’s chuckle stopped her.
“What are you doing?” he asked, making her unsure again.
“Getting my shoes?”
“I can see you. Why?”
“So— uh.. so you could take me back?”
“Take you back where exactly?” He folded his arms again and she felt nervous as she swallowed, coming to learn that this was probably not a good sign.
“To the orphanage? I mean, you’re letting me go, right?” She sounded so hopeful, he hated it.
“No.” His definitive answer shattered her hopes.
“What? Why not?” She started to tear up again and Bucky found himself turning his eyes away from her distressed ones.
“You’re my wife, that’s why.”
“But it isn’t supposed to be me! Marry someone else!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face.
“But it’s you I have here. I don’t want anyone else. You’re my mate now.”
Mate? What was he talking about?! They didn’t know each other! And she wasn’t an animal!
“But you’re not mine!”
“I will never let you go and that’s the end of it.” Bucky’s growl shut her right up.
She stared at him in horror and maybe even contempt, but Bucky didn’t care.
“But you said get dressed,” she cried out her disappointment because she really thought he had had mercy on her and was letting her go, but it seemed like he only decided to postpone her torture instead.
“Don’t try to leave because I’ll find you anyway and if I don’t, well, you’d probably be eaten,” he told her, ignoring her comment before grabbing his axe and a lamp.
“Where are you going?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
She might hate him but that didn’t mean she wanted him to leave her alone in the middle of nowhere.
“Gonna go get some more wood to get us through the night. There’s food and water in the kitchen.” She nodded and he opened the door and stepped out.
“B-Bucky?” It was the first time she said his name since the night started and the orc had no idea his name could sound so sweet.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you anyway,” she said, her hushed tone grateful yet laced with sadness.
Bucky only nodded before shutting the door behind him, locking it from the outside.
~
Bucky found himself slamming his axe down on the wood more vigorously than usual. He had a lot inside of him and it had to be released. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she cried and bit back sobs at his touch.
What’s happened to him? Bucky loved nothing more than scaring these pretentious humans of the kingdom! He found incomparable joy in the way they would cower down before his intense gaze whenever he would growl or flex his left arm. He had no problem talking them down, taunting them or even threatening them. So why on earth was it so difficult for him to continue to be like that to her?!
Why did he care so much all of sudden?! Why was it so hard for him to continue to be hard on her?! She seemed like someone who would follow orders just fine. Why didn’t he give her some?
Bucky picked her because she caught his eye. Because he deserved her. He deserved a bride and a family after all that he’d lost while fighting the kingdom’s people’s fights for them. It was the least they could gift him in return. A woman, a new life.
Another growl left Bucky’s chest as he slammed his axe down again.
He couldn’t go back to the cottage with a hard cock. He only had so much control. He needed to get it all out now.
This was going to be hard.
~
She continued to cry after Bucky was gone. She wasn’t really thankful he didn’t rape her when he could have, she just didn’t want to fall under his wrath had she tried to argue further.
She was always so scared, of everyone and everything. Always bending to the storm and never fighting back. And look where that had gotten her…. A cast out orc’s wife.
Was that really how her fate was drawn? Was that what was meant for her after so many lonely years in the orphanage?
Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the key turning followed by the cottage’s door being kicked.
She swallowed the rest of her whimpers as she watched Bucky’s arms enter first, a bunch of cut wood in them.
He was so strong. She was sure he could crush her skull with his bare hands if he wanted to. The thought alone sent yet another shiver down her spine.
Bucky kicked the door closed before walking to the fireplace and setting the wood pieces beside it. He put some inside to keep the fire alive before getting up and looking at her with a look she couldn’t pin down.
“Have you been sitting here the whole time?” Bucky asked her upon noticing how she was curled up on the floor next to the bed, her face streaked with dried tears and her nose and lips swollen.
“Y-yes.” Her voice was hoarse from the constant sobbing.
“You didn’t eat anything?”
She shook her head and Bucky sighed loudly.
He walked to the kitchen and she could hear a fridge being opened. Then a match was lit and something metal sat down on the stove.
A few minutes later Bucky was coming out of his kitchen with a large glass of warm milk. He looked at her as he put the glass on the table.
“I put honey in there to help soothe your throat.”
“I- I don’t want to. Thank y—”
“Come here and drink your milk.” One glare and she was scrambling to the only seat on the table before the steaming glass.
“Don’t leave one single drop in there,” he told her before walking to the wooden closet in the corner.
Bucky got himself something clean and comfy to wear as well as a towel.
“I’m gonna go clean up,” he informed her in case she needed to go to the bathroom but she only nodded so he went on his way.
She watched the door to the bathroom shut and let out the breath she was holding before standing up.
Walking around the room, she found a stack of papers on the smaller table by the window. One was their marriage certificate that she hasn’t even gotten the choice whether or not to sign. She thought about throwing it in the fire, but it would likely cause her more problems than she would want to handle at the moment. Under it was what looked like a contract that they made this orc sign. Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes again.
It wasn’t enough that they gave her to a stranger, but they’d handed her out to an exiled orc, signing contracts to close their deal of selling her. What had she done to anyone to ever deserve this?
The room was suddenly too quiet when she looked around again. The milk before her looked tempting and she was hungry, but the door looked better and she was entrapped.
She slowly walked closer as she could hear water running inside the bathroom and when she twisted the handle, the door opened. Just like that. Bucky had forgotten to lock it and now was her chance.
The thunder cracked outside once more as if in warning, but she didn’t pay it any mind. It was now or never.
Part II
~
Tag List:
@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie
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chososcamgirl · 4 months ago
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CLUBBING TOPS! - yeah this bitch goes partying EVERY weekend. also most weekdays bc sjap yn has a high alcohol tolerance. alcohol poisoning? never heard of her. these tops do it every. single. time. without fail. she wears any one of these slutty tops and she’s going home with a man. this girl has a mission! (and no it’s not to sleep with every dj that plays ayesha erotica for her. looks at megumi) don’t be fooled though she’s always down to share her clothes with maki or nobara bc she’s a girls girl (not rlly but she just loves her friends so much) she once caught panda trying to put her tank studio top one once and LOST IT. she started screaming at him that he already stretched it and he needs to buy her a new one… whole time the material was just stretchy she just wanted another one in a different colour (bc why would she pay $120 for a top when panda can!)
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ACCESSORIES! - yn is a silver girl BY FAR. you’ll always catch her leaving with one if not all of these. she basically lives in hoops. showers in them, sleeps in them (i know that back piece is smells NASTY) she lives off the quote “the bigger the hoop the bigger the hoe”. MARC JACOBS FRIENDSHIP NECKLACE!!!! (yes i might’ve based this off me and my bff irl ok burn me) she has one on but the real question is who has the other? hint starts with p and ends in anda. but don’t be silly there’s no duos or trios cough yes cough in the group. they all have matching necklaces for eachother bc they couldn’t find a 4 friendship way necklace laugh out loud. she just prefers the marc jacobs one bc it makes her feel superior. CLIPS!!!!! yes she’s a sucker for cute hair clips arrest her. you will never see her with flyaways nah uh.
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WHATS IN HER BAG! - her most prized possession… miss miu miu… she got it from the group for her 19th birthday (yes they all were broke afterwards and dine and dashed dinner but hey! can u blame them, that shit is expensive) and in so called expensive bag is ALWAYS a sonny angel. yes he does bring her good luck. the only time she forgot to put a sonny angel in her bag was when she got harassed via imsg.. sound familiar? this bitch vlogs EVERY MOMENT of her life. she has a secret youtube account where she posts her cute little city vlogs of her and her friends. she doesn’t expect it to go viral but it does shortly after she debuted man eater. one time she was at dinner and forgot her handy cam so she called her friend at home to come pick her up, drop her at home to grab her handy cam and then drop her back to dinner which she arrived shortly after her food did (wdym this isn’t a personal experience… heh… i lied sorry bff) and lastly her infamous pink hello kitty lighter. for blunts. and cigarettes occasionally. but mainly blunts.
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TEES! - these are just some of the tops she would wear on air. the listeners can’t see her anyways but she loves to dress cute because it makes her feel good doing so. she was always so expressive via fashion because it’s illegal to kill somebody you hate crowd boos
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BOTTOMS! - yeah so this bitch basically lives in mini skirts and booty shorts. no mind that her ass is out she refuses to wear pants. on the rare occasion she DOES wear pants it’s usually just bootcut jeans that flare at the end because it makes her ass look good.
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OUTERWEAR! - she loooveesssss her jackets like she adores them. cold? putting on a jacket. being harassed? putting on a jacket legs are freezing due to said mini skirt? putting on a jacket. such a multi use piece of clothing! also comes in handy to choke out roommates when they eat your leftovers from the night before! oops!
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SHOES! - this girl only wears two types of shoes. heels or knee high boots. nevermind that we are going to the beach she WILL pull up with kitten heels. but who needs the beach when clubbing is just as fun right? she does everything in heels. cook, work, griddy, kick a guy in the dick for groping her? you name it. put this bitch in 5 inch stilettos and she would still would NOT falter once not even stumble. she is a pro and actually needs to be considered for the olympics because that footwork technique is impeccable.
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masterlist
taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm
*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!
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moonstruckme · 10 months ago
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Now that your requests are open I need more ceo Sirius content PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏
Thanks for requesting! You didn't ask for smut but it's what popped into my head lol, hope this is okay
cw: smut mdni, semi-public sex
ceo!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 636 words
“Baby.” Sirius’ voice is low and smooth. Compelling. “Let me see you, dollface.” 
You struggle to pick your head up from where it’s dropped off the edge of his desk, finding your boyfriend watching you from his plush chair. 
“There’s my girl.” He grins, eyes glinting with humor at your flushed face. His hand strokes up and down your thigh, a soothing touch that’s completely at odds with the mess of slick between your legs. 
It doesn’t seem particularly fair to you how casual he looks. Sirius is relaxing in his chair like he’s sitting in a meeting, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair tied in a loose bun like he might’ve just pulled it back to have his lunch. Meanwhile, you’re spread half naked on his desk, seeping wetness onto the varnished wood. 
His fingers dip into you, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit, and you make a choked sound. 
“Breathe,” Sirius reminds you. 
You roll your hips in search of more, but he stops you with a firm hand, pressing down just below your navel. 
“Easy, sweetness. We’ve got all afternoon, remember? Don’t want to tire you out too early.” 
“Sirius.” Your voice comes out breathy, teetering on the edge of a whine. “Come here.” 
He hums and curls his fingers inside you. You make a sound like you’re dying. You might be. “That wasn’t very polite, was it?” 
“Please.” 
He gives up the act easily, standing and bending with his fingers still inside you to lock his lips with yours. The way he kisses you says enough about how much he’s been exercising his patience, too. Greedy passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth. Deep, long kisses punctuated by little nips. You meet him all the way, half sitting up on the desk to be closer to him even as the butt of his palm works ceaselessly into your clit. 
You’re the first to break the kiss when there’s a knock on the door. 
“Sir?” 
Sirius sighs, but his fingers don’t so much as stutter inside you. He raises his voice to be heard through the door. “I thought I told you not to bother me, Len,” he says, a slight bite of annoyance in his tone. 
“I know, I’m sorry. But Mrs. Burke’s assistant called, she wants to move her meeting to three today.” 
Your chest starts to burn, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You keep a hand pressed over your mouth, terrified of letting out some small sound that could give you away. As if on cue, Sirius’ fingers curl inside you again. Your thighs start to tremble.
“What happened to two tomorrow?” 
“She’s had to cut her trip short and will be leaving tonight. Three’s her last availability.” 
Sirius frowns, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall. That means he has to have you out of here and have his office cleaned up in an hour. His eyes meet yours, flashing with challenge in a way that has your shaking worsening. He smiles, wolfish. 
“You can let her know that’ll be fine,” he says. “Thanks, Len.” 
He waits a few seconds for Len to go from the door, then takes your chin in his hand. “What’d we say about breathing, doll?” 
You finally let the air escape you. Sirius watches amusedly, fingers still moving in and out of you at an indolent pace. 
“Should I go?” you ask once you catch your breath.
Dark eyebrows flick upwards. “No,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “Didn’t you hear Len? My meeting’s not until three.” He bends close to your face, a lock of hair that’s escaped his bun brushing your cheek. “I reckon we can get at least two good ones out of you before then, don’t you think?”
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