#now time to retreat back to my hole

[secret-third-thing]

OKAY what I WANTED to say before I experienced the weirdest sunday of my life is that I finally have a writing mentor!!!!! who is a LITERARY AGENT!?!?!!! I am FREAKING OUT.

I am very flattered that she offered to work with me, and I'm hoping that this is the universe giving me a sign that it's TIME. She read some of my original writing and my longer fanfic and was like... you've got something good going on in that brain of yours.

Obviously, I will have things to work on, but I'm happy to know that my writing isn't actually total garbage. Fingers crossed for 2024. Yall this is wild.

[moonstruckme]

heyy, so this is my first time sending an ask, i dont know if u do repeated themes, but im so obsessed with bodyguard!james, maybe we could have some angst where he puts himself ia a dangerous situation to save reader and she gets mad/upset at him? love your work very much, they brighten my day🙌

Thank you for your request <3

cw: shooting, blood mention

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James says your name, soft and worn with exhaustion. “Can you look at me, please?” 

No sooner do you oblige than your vision blurs again. There’s a cruel line across his perfect cheek, leaking blood where the glass sliced across it. Your fault. 

James sighs. “Sweetheart,” he says, knuckles finding your cheek. They brush away your tears without intent, less a purposeful act than a byproduct of a caress. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” you insist. Your voice burns like fire, and yet you don’t remove his hand. Even furious with him, you crave James’ comfort. 

His expression tightens when you blink more tears down your cheeks. You wonder if it hurts. You wonder why he’s sitting here with you in your room instead of going to get his cut cleaned or patched or whatever he needs to do, but really you know. You’re always the priority. Even when the threat has passed and protocol no longer requires it, James will always take care of you before taking care of himself.

Your voice comes out softer without you meaning for it to, soft but not thin. “You shouldn’t have moved.” 

“It’s my job to protect you,” says James. 

“I was safe!” 

“You weren’t safe.” Now it’s him who’s being firm. James sets both hands to your shoulders, looking you in the eyes. Not angry, but ardent. “Someone was trying to hurt you. You were in trouble, and I needed to get to you.” His lips tilt slightly, not without sympathy. “That’s my job.” 

You chew your lip, tasting salt in the seam. He makes it sound so simple. So innocuous, too, someone was trying to hurt you instead of someone was shooting at you. James always plays things down this way, softening them into something less horrific, less violent. Another way he protects you, you suppose. 

You’d been going down the hallway with James, chatting about something useless, when the large window you were walking beside sprouted a hole. Your next step stalled, perplexed, and in that time two more holes appeared, with cracking sounds and the tinkling of broken glass on the floor. You and James moved at the same time, his hand reaching for your arm a heartbeat too late as he retreated toward one side of the window and you—stupidly, considering it was a greater distance—threw yourself to the other. 

By now, James’ team knows the shooter was likely some sort of sniper; no one with a gun could have made it onto the property and the bullets were fired singularly instead of in a spray. A spray, you probably wouldn’t have survived. 

The shooting stopped when you were both away from the window. You looked at James across it as you pulled your knees in tight, making yourself small between that window and the one behind you. The air in your lungs felt dry and stale. James was looking back at you, eyes wide but face controlled as he scanned you over. 

“I’m okay,” you said. Whispered, though you don’t know why. 

James nodded, standing. “Stay right there,” he told you. 

You only had a second to be concerned about why he’d say that before he was running back across the window. Your body tensed on instinct, but you were too slow to stand as glass sprayed, punctured by another bullet. James landed with his body covering yours. 

You thought he’d been shot. For a handful of panicky, heartbreaking moments, you’d searched for the wound, feeling for wetness at his neck, his side, his heart, until he managed to catch your hands, whispering, It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re okay. 

There’d been no more shooting after that. James had spoken to people in his earpiece, and you’d both stayed hidden, and eventually someone had said back that you were clear to go. Now James is sitting in front of you on your bed, alive but bleeding and looking like he might like to hug you if you let him. You haven’t let him. 

He watches you gnaw on your lip. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he says softly. 

You scoff. “As if you get to talk.” 

James smiles, but you don’t smile back. You’re not ready for that yet. It fades as a new wave of tears crests your cheeks.

“I don’t want you to protect me anymore,” you say weakly. “I don’t like when you get hurt for me.” 

His brows bend, big thumbs moving soothingly, almost absently, over your shoulders. “You can’t get mad at me for that,” he says. “It’s how it needs to be. You know why.” 

You sniffle. “Because it’s your job.” 

“Because it would kill me if anything happened to you.” His eyes bore into yours, deeply earnest. 

“James…”

“It would destroy me,” he says. 

You look back at him. Your heart feels like it’s beating in the hollow of your throat. You’re no less upset with him, but now there’s another feeling in the mix, not new but inconsistent. James’ eyes dip to where you’re still chewing your lip. He reaches for it, thumbing it free from between your teeth. 

“Stop that,” he pleads. 

You swallow. “You can’t just say that.” Can’t pretend he’s here for any reason other than it’s where he’s paid to be. Can’t act like he cares about you half as much as you do about him. 

James looks wounded. “Why not?”

“It’s not fair.” 

“I don’t think you’re being very fair. You were in danger, and I did what I needed to get to you. You can be angry at me if you want, but I don’t see how I earned it.” 

Your face is hot again, emotion prickling just beneath your skin. “Because I’m not the one who gets hurt, James!” 

“I know.” His voice goes soft to counter your loudness, his hand moving back to your cheek. A warm touch over warmer skin. “I can’t be sorry.” James’ lips touch underneath your eye. You tilt up into them, and he turns his face down. “I can’t.” 

You taste your own tears on his lips. James kisses you gently, coaxing, not wanting to take any more than you can give. Your throat closes as you push your hands up his shoulders, wanting to prove it to him; that you can give, and give, and give. He tempers you when you get too frantic, pulling you back with doting touches. 

You open your eyes to run a thumb gently beneath the line on his cheek. Emotion steals your breath. “I’m sorry for this,” you manage. 

James covers his hand with yours to kiss it. “It was my decision.” 

“A stupid one.” 

He makes an amused humming sound, noncommittal. “We’re okay, though, aren’t we?” 

“What, you think you can just kiss me and I’ll instantly feel better?” It’s a bold thing to mock, when your head is still buzzing and your lips feel warm and tingly. 

“No,” says James, sincerely, “of course not. What can I do?” 

You look at him, fighting the urge to take your bottom lip between your teeth again, if only to see if it feels different. “It wasn’t not helping,” you admit. 

The smile that takes James is so overwhelmingly sweet it almost does make you forgive him for everything. Almost. As his lips close over yours again, you think you can find it in yourself to make it all the way eventually.

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

It's a quiet afternoon, one spent reading your new book, mending some of your torn clothes and dozing off occasionally.

A lazy day if ever there was. You're not worried about cooking dinner tonight because you have company coming over with their own. You finish stitching up the hole in one of your thick trousers and gaze outside. It's about time now, if he arrives too late, then he'll have to walk back home in the dark. You wouldn't let him do that, it's a little ridiculous, considering he's a huge orc who knows the woods perfectly well but you'd still force him to sleep on the couch before letting him leave.

That idea makes you smile, such a massive man snuggled up on your old reliable couch. Just when you think you should step outside and look for your friend, you hear the distinct jingle of horse reins and a frightened neigh from outside.

This has you on edge immediately. The only times you've heard that is when the king's men search the perimeter between the Orc and Human territories, making sure no one is breaking the land treaties between the two. You hate these men, they claim to be here for your safety but they make you feel the polar opposite whenever they look down at you on their high horses.

You pull on your boots, take a deep breath before stepping outside, preparing yourself for the condescending look the knights always give you, along with thinly veiled sexual remarks about how it must be so hard for you, all alone out here in these scary woods.

That, however, is not what you see when you walk outside. Instead, you feel ice shoot into your veins.

Red seeps into the white snow as an orc, your orc, clutches the wound where an arrow protrudes out of his upper chest. The horse kicks and neigh's as the knight riding it reloads his crossbow.

The ice in your veins suddenly boils, you grab your bow resting near the door along with a handful of arrows and run outside. Notching an arrow, you don't even announce yourself before letting it go. It whizzes through the air and hits the knights' crossbow right out of his hands, he yelps as it falls to the ground, turning angrily towards the offender.

"Get off my land!"

The bleeding Orc looks just as shocked as the knight, who reins his horse back in an attempt to compose himself.

"My lady, I found this beast roaming near your home. I was only-"

"I'll take care of it. Leave."

You're trying to sound as sturdy as possible but it's hard when your friend is bleeding out in front of you.

"but I- "

"It's my land. He's mine. Leave."

Your voice is unwavering, only getting angrier with every syllable as your bow string grows more taught. The knight looks back at the orc, hatred burning, then he looks back at you sceptically. You're itching to let your arrow fly right between his hateful eyes. He's not wearing his helmet, it would be easy.

He's clearly more vulnerable than he's used to, with only his sword at his side, which he couldn't even unsheathe before you let your arrow fly. With a scoff, the knight pulls on his horse's reins and retreats down the snowy slope. You stand stock still, skin shivering under the thin material of your tunic. You have to hold back the urge to shoot your arrow into his back before he disappears into the woods.

Slinging your bow over your shoulder, you sprint over to your friend, who heaves heavy breaths while clutching his chest. You struggle to lift him onto his feet, he grunts at every movement and it makes you want to cry. When you eventually get him up, you both stagger towards the open front door. It's slow and arduous but you eventually get past the door frame and slam the heavy wood shut, dropping your bow to carry his heavy body to the couch.

He slumps down on the couch with a groan. You almost sob with relief when you realise the arrow is in his right side, not his left. Fool of a knight had worse aim than you thought. It doesn't look that deep but there's a lot of blood seeping out.

He's still in life or death mode as tears of pain spill over his pretty eyelashes. You try to calm his heaving breaths, placing a hand on his cheek to bring his attention to you instead of the arrow in his chest. You wipe his tears away and hush comforting words he doesn't even understand. When his breathing slows considerably and his attention is only on you, you wrench the arrow out of his chest in one quick pull.

He howls in pain, and you sob apologies at him, shuffling his overcoat off to unbutton his tunic, the way his blood clings to the material and his skin in sticky strings makes you nauseous.

You lay him down and run off to your small bathroom. You come back with a bunch of bandages, disinfecting ointment, a warm wash cloth and a numbing ointment.

There's so much blood. Your hands are covered in the mixture of blood and water as you dump the cloth in the bowl of lukewarm water. You clean his wound with the wet wash cloth before pouring on a more than generous amount of disinfecting ointment. It burns and he groans, clutching the couch pillow next to his head. This won't be fatal, if you can clean and stitch it properly.

You slather on the numbing cream with the tiny application stick and wait for it to take effect. You turn to your sewing kit on the tiny table in front of the hearth and try in vain to stop your hands from shaking while disinfecting the needle and thread. It doesn't work, you can't stop the trembling. What if you don't disinfect it enough and the wound becomes infected? What if you can't save him like he saved you? What if he dies because of you? What if-

Warmth covers your trembling hand, the heavy weight of the orcs hand grounding you. You look at the orc lying on your couch incredulously, he looks back with a tired smile, sluggishly blinking at you. How can he be so warm when he's bleeding out?

You clutch his hand and take a deep breath. The pounding of your heart is still loud but your hands are calm enough to thread the needle. You wipe the excess numbing ointment off and carefully make the first incision. This isn't completely new to you but seeing the bloody red flesh underneath his green skin makes this much harder than when you've had to stitch up yourself.

As you pull the curved needle in and out of his skin, you can tell he's trying not to grunt or flinch even though it hurts.

When you make the final incision, you both let out heavy sighs. He rests his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes, as you bandage the wound with gauze and more antibacterial ointment. You look up at his resting eyes and when you realise he hasn't moved for a while you panic and pat his cheek a bit desperately.

He grunts awake, grasping your hand and squinting at you like you just interrupted a midday nap. When he sees your teary eyes and concerned expression, he softens and huffs amusedly. You yank back your hand, anger simmering, how can he think this situation is amusing?

You hate how he's barged into your life and lit an uncomfortable fire in your chest that you can't put out. There's so much more to be confused and fearful about now with him in your life. What if the knight comes back with reinforcements? Would you have to fight to be together? What does 'together' even mean?

You let a hot tear fall to the ground and sniffle angrily. It's all so overwhelming, before him, you never needed to feel this much. His hand reaches out and you feel the warmth envelope your cheek, lifting your gaze to his. His eyes hold so much he could never translate, yet you find you understand perfectly. He wipes away an oncoming tear, only for you to let out another sob.

You clutch his hand to your cheek, your other hand holds his forearm close,

"I think I love you."

You utter into his palm, the devastating truth weighs heavy on you. You don't actually intend for him to ever know what it means but when you look up at his wide eyes and shocked face, you realise he didn't need a translation.

He leans up on the shoulder of his uninjured side and pulls you closer with the hand on your cheek. You're halfway through reprimanding him for moving too much when your words catch in your throat as he pulls you inches away from his face. He mumbles something in orcish and although you don't know what he said, you're pretty sure you know what he means.

You lightly touch your forehead to his before, rather timidly, kissing him. He kisses back with purpose, it takes a minute for you to properly ease into the intimate action, the soft warmth of his lips makes it easier than you'd ever imagined. He keeps his movements slow and gentle, you feel his tusks against your cheeks as you deepen the kiss.

When you separate for air he grins and nuzzles his forehead to yours, it's such a playful gesture, it makes you laugh rather breathlessly. You've never cried so much before meeting him, but you also never laughed as much. He places cheeky kisses on your forehead, nose and lips before you have to push his scruffy stubbled face away so you can hide your own burning hot face in your hands just to console your rapidly beating heart. He rests his head back onto the couch pillow with the same tired eyes as before, except now a dumb, self-satisfied grin adorns his face.

You ignore his amusement, climbing onto your way-too-small couch next to him. You lay your head over his heart, hearing the rhythmic beats. He holds you close and lets out a pleased grumble before his eyes flutter closed and he dozes off once more. You stay awake for some time, staring at the orc on your couch, his pretty carved tusks, his soft lips, his bare chest, his dark hair. It's sometime before you eventually doze off against his chest, lulled asleep by the up and down motion of his chest as he dreams.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

<- Previous

Next ->

[thef1diary]

Me after reading more Ghost! Max : aksfnafgextjagwtdbtbdtdydhd

Okay wait, walk with me while I try and explain this... Ghost! Max being a menace/getting jealous while you're getting ready to go out on a date, it starts in the shower (subtle at first) and he doesn't stop until you're trembling and cancelling the date (do you see the vision 🫣🤭) - 💜

— mhm I see your vision 🤭 you’re his…why don’t you understand that? By now he’s memorized every inch of your body, so what makes you think he’ll let another man—a living man—do the same? 18+ content below

Steam clouded the bathroom, the heat curling around your skin as you let the water cascade over you. Tonight was supposed to be a fresh start—a proper date after months of staying in. But as you washed your hair, rinsing out the shampoo, you felt it: a presence, warm and unyielding, pressing against your back.

“Max,” you muttered, your tone half-warning, half-exasperated.

There was no response, just the unmistakable sensation of hands sliding down your arms, ghosting over your sides, then gripping your hips. You shivered, the touch firm and possessive, pinning you in place. Before you could react, the showerhead in your hand twisted out of your grip, its spray redirected downward.

“Max,” you hissed again, a sharp gasp cutting off your protest as the stream of water landed between your legs, the relentless pressure hitting your clit perfectly.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, the force of it made your knees wobble, but Max’s invisible weight pressed against your back kept you upright. 

The spray pulsed, perfectly targeted, and your body betrayed you, hips bucking forward into the water. Your breath hitched, soft moans escaping as the pressure built, the pleasure mounting with every second.

You tried to shift, to catch your breath, but he wasn’t letting you go. “Max, please,” you whimpered, though you weren’t even sure if you were begging him to stop or to push you further.

Your nails scraped against the tiles as your orgasm overtook you, pleasure crashing through you in sharp, breathless waves. The spray kept going, prolonging the sensation until your legs nearly gave out, your body sagging against the wall.

When the water finally shifted away, you were left panting, your thighs trembling as Max’s presence lingered, teasingly brushing along your spine before retreating.

In the bedroom, you sat on the edge of the bed, breathless as you reached for the spirit box. The small device crackled to life, the static filling the room as you whispered, “oh my God—”

“Not God,” came his distorted voice, deep and teasing, the sound making your stomach flip.

Your annoyance faltered as the air around you shifted again, his touch returning, this time firmer, more deliberate. Fingers ghosted over your towel, tugging it loose and exposing your damp, bare skin. You inhaled sharply, your nipples hardening as the cool air met your chest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” his voice crackled through the box, low and guttural.

You didn’t even have time to argue before he pushed you to lie down onto the mattress, invisible hands spreading your legs. The phantom pressure was stronger now, dragging his fingers through your folds, circling your clit until you arched off the bed.

“Max,” you moaned, your voice trembling.

His grip tightened, one hand pinning your hips while another teased your hole, sliding inside with an agonizingly slow stretch. You clenched around them, the sensation somehow too much and not enough all at once.

“You’re so fucking wet,” the spirit box rasped, his words breaking into static before returning. “Such a slut. Planning on going on a date with someone else while you’re aching and needy for me?” 

Your fingers gripped the sheets as his invisible touch fucked into you, thrusting harder, deeper, the pressure relentless. It didn’t take long until you cried out. another orgasm ripping through you as he pushed you over the edge with his fingers. 

The spirit box buzzed again. “Two’s not enough, schatje.”

The words barely registered in your mind before his grip returned, flipping you onto your stomach. Your ass lifted instinctively, and his hands smoothed over your skin, squeezing and kneading as he slid his cock along your lips before thrusting in your cunt. 

By the time you reached your third and fourth orgasm, your body was trembling, every nerve alight. The spirit box continued to buzz and crackle, Max’s groans and filthy praises filling the room as he worked you through each release.

When he finally relented, you lay sprawled on the bed, completely wrecked, your chest heaving and your body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Somewhere across the room, your phone buzzed, no doubt your date wondering where you were.

Max’s voice cut through the spirit box one last time, low and smug. “Looks like you’re staying in tonight.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[pinkhelados]

miguel x wife!reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

includes: fem!reader, latina!reader, miggle being a simp, p in v sex, praise kink, very slight dacryphilia, not edited! Criticism is welcome!

Miguel swore to you that he’s never make you cry. “Te lo juro, mi alma. Te hare la mujer más feliz del universo. No sentirás tristeza cuando estes en mis brazos.” He remembered saying and he meant it, what kind of a man would make a woman as beautiful as you cry? Miguel was a man of his word, after all.

Well, until now.

Miguel found himself balls deep in your pussy with his talons digging into the fat of your hips. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he just couldn’t help himself when your weeping cunt tightened around his girthy cock like a vice. “Fuck,” He groaned. “Eres- eres tan bonita,” Miguel said with each thrust. His chocolate rown hues stared lovingly into your pretty eyes. Those same pretty eyes that had fat tears of pleasure rolling down your skin as he pushed his dick further into your creamy pussy. “Too good, it’s too good,” You hiccuped. More tears dribbled down your cheeks which were quickly kissed away by your tender husband.

“Good, pretty girl,” You heard him grunt, his thrusts becoming sloppily. He was trying so hard not to cream inside that little cunt of yours. The same man who swore to you on your wedding night that he’d never want to see you weep was getting off on your tears. “Look at your pretty pussy, nena. It’s sucking me in,” He said between breaths, mesmerized by the sticky strings of arousal connecting you every time his hips pulled back. How could you be so pretty? “My wife, my perfect wife. I love you, baby.” Miguel was babbling and his head was churning out thoughts by the second. He could only focus on making you cum.

Slap, slap, slap.

“Miguel! Miguel! Mmngh~!” Saliva dripped down your chin and more gloopy tears spilled from your gorgeous eyes. Each thrust was a kiss to your sweetspot, pussy dripping sweet nectar which left a ring around the base on Miguel’s cock. “Te amo, cariño,” You squealed just as the knot in your tummy tightened as well as your legs around his waist. You were close, and Miguel would stop at nothing until he felt your cunt flutter around him. Despite drilling into your hole, his eyes were soft as he brushed your hair away from your eyes. He was drenched in passion with sweat sticking to his tan skin.

“M’ gonna cum~ C-Can’t hold it,” You whispered and you saw a switch in your husband flip.

Miguel’s talons retreated into his fingers and with strenght, he flipped you over on your stomach and went haywire. Kneading your ass, he whimpered as he chased so desperately after the pleasure. “Close- Cum- cum with me! Nena~” His plush lips fell open and his load filled your womb just as your own sticky fluids ran down the skin of your thighs. Your soaked pussy fluttered and a loud call of his name rang out. “Oh..oh god.”

Spent, Miguel flipped over next to you with labored breaths. His strong arms came around your waist and pulled you on top of his chest. “Miggy,” you purred and kissed his lips. The dim room lighting glinted of the glossy skin of your lover and you swore that your heartbeat had become impossibly fast. The two lovers panted heavily in each other’s arms, waiting for their energy to return so that they could do at all over again.

[heizlut]

omg this is the first time i do this bc i always think i become a burden when i request sth🫠 BUT I PLUCKED MY COURAGE BC I LOVE YOU AND I HAVE A BOMB ASS IDEA BUT MY WRITING CAPABILITIES CANNOT DO IT JUSTICE. Ok so🫢 childhoofriend!/meandom!genshu lin x childhoodfriend!/sub!reader x childhoodfriend!/teasedom!jiyan after the war (lets pretend genshu didnt disappear/get unalived) and they release their pent up emotions by doing the deed and of course reader is more than happy to welcome them. Reader has enough holes for the two as you said😚😚

POOKIEEEE ILYSM🥹🫶🏼 i hope you like this!!!!!

What are Best Friends For?

〰cw: none

〰tags: sub fem!reader, mean dom!geshu lin, teasing dom!jiyan, all childhood besties with each other, creampie, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, double penetration, anal, a lil degradation, throat fucking, a dash of stinky angst in the beginning

〰nsfw under the cut

〰m!list here

You always worried for your two best friends considering they were always at each other's throats, always arguing about battle strategies, what was right and wrong, or accusing the other of spending more time with you. You still did your best to act as a mediator or to provide them with whatever type of support they needed, no questions asked.

And right now, they both needed you. More than ever.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

Standing in the middle of battleground, the retroact rain surrounds both of them and all of Geshu Lin's soldiers. If looks could kill, Jiyan would be dead on the spot with the way Geshu Lin glowers at him. Jiyan stands his ground, "This isn't right. There's something wrong with this rain. It would be wise to retreat unless you really want everyone to die here."

Geshu Lin's tongue runs across his teeth before speaking in a biting tone, "Last I checked, you were only a combat medic." He scoffs, speaking again with disdain, "If thousands of my men must die, then so be it. Now shut up and keep moving." Jiyan stands there as the general turns away, barking orders at his soldiers, rage and concern bubbling up inside of him.

They both promised you they would be safe, that they would return home to you unscathed. But with Geshu Lin's bullheaded pride, the chances of coming home to the girl they both loved in their own way seemed unlikely. Jiyan couldn't allow Geshu Lin to go through with this.

"General, listen to me", he calls out. Geshu Lin ignores him at first continuing on until Jiyan's next words make him stop dead in his tracks. "What about y/n...? We made her a promise. Do you truly intend to break it?", Jiyan's voice is sad, almost desperate. Desperate for his arrogant childhood friend to just listen to him for once.

Geshu Lin stands still for a few moments before partially turning back to face Jiyan with narrowed eyes. He can see the sincerity and concern in Jiyan's expression, making something twist inside of his chest. "Put aside your pride, Geshu... Stop this before there is no going back", he pleads with deep resolution.

Geshu Lin grits his teeth, fully turning to look at Jiyan. "I'm doing this because of y/n, not because you personally told me to retreat", he growls out. Relief washes over Jiyan's features, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

You stand there pacing back and forth by the front window of your house, gnawing at your fingernails, worried as hell for the men you cared for so deeply. Only a few moments later do you hear their voices as they walk up the path towards your home, arguing with each other as usual.

You throw open your front door, running out to meet them with teary eyes and a smile that wobbles as you try not to cry tears of relief, "You're back! I was so worried I-" Jiyan pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in your sweet scent.

"No need to worry anymore, I'm here...", he coos softly earning him a harsh glare from Geshu Lin. Geshu Lin pulls you from Jiyan's grasp and into his own embrace. "I'm here too", he speaks through gritted teeth, keeping his golden eyes narrowed at Jiyan who gives him an incredulous look in return.

You breathe out a laugh as Geshu Lin practically squeezes the life out of you, "I'm happy you're both here." You pull back slightly, only able to because Geshu Lin allows you. You look between the two of them with a little smile, "Let's not fight. We're all here together, so let's enjoy this moment." Geshu Lin grumbles and Jiyan gives a hint of a smile.

"Tell me what I can do to make you both happy", you speak, eyes flitting between the two pairs of intense golden eyes as you offer a solution like you always do. Geshu Lin's lips twitch up in a slight smirk which Jiyan catches, releasing a breath as he addresses him, "Be nice, Geshu..." You raise a brow and Geshu Lin's smirk widens as something glimmers in his dangerous gaze, "No promises."

With that, Geshu Lin scoops you up, making you yelp in surprise as he carries you over his shoulder, practically kicking your door down as he enters your home with Jiyan following behind.

Once inside, Geshu Lin sets you down on the bed unceremoniously which makes you laugh out of both surprise and amusement. Jiyan stands by the edge of your bed, watching Geshu Lin's every move, golden eyes flickering between the two of you.

Geshu Lin begins to peel of his clothes piece by piece with a smirk plastered on his fierce but handsome face. His toned muscles ripple in the soft light of your room, pale cock twitching against his abdomen. Jiyan follows suit, stripping off his clothes and tossing them in a pile on the floor.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take in the sight of your two best friends bared before you. Their bodies are different yet similar, equally captivating and littered with old scars. Jiyan is the first to move, kneeling between your legs as his hands travel up your thighs, "You're going to be a good girl for us, yeah?"

You breathe out a small 'yes', to his words, making the corners of his lips curl up as he stands back up, both men looking down at you with a mix of danger and pleasure in their eyes. "Then strip", Geshu Lin chimes in with a sharp command as he slowly strokes his cock.

Your breath hitches at his command. Sure this wasn't anything new between the three of you, but only ever separately. You never thought you would be pleasing them both at the same time, but you would do absolutely anything for them. You strip off your tank top and bra, nipples hardening as the cool air of your room brushes over them.

Next comes your shorts, fingers fumbling the with button and zipper as you tug them down your legs along with your panties, exposing yourself fully to your friends' hungry grazes. You watch as they exchange a glace, their silent communication passing through them as though they've finally agreed on something for once.

Their eyes linger on your body as if committing every inch of you to memory. They both approach with predatory grace, Geshu Lin stands close to your face and Jiyan stands in front of your spread legs. Geshu Lin takes your chin in his free hand, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Here's how this is gonna work, doll. You're gonna lay back and put your head over the side of the bed so I can fuck that pretty mouth of yours", his voice steady and commanding.

He nods his head towards Jiyan, "And Jiyan here is gonna play with that pussy." "But don't you even think about cumming until I give you permission to do so", he growls out.

All you can do is nod before you lay back, positioning yourself in the way Geshu Lin told you to. Your head hangs off the side of the bed, Geshu Lin's cock throbbing in front of you as Jiyan crouches between your legs once more, licking his lips at the sight of your twitching hole.

Jiyan's fingers trace over your folds, spreading them as he exposes your wetness. Two fingers tease your entrance, watching intently as your juices glisten in the soft light and make his digits slick.

A soft gasp has your lips parting, allowing Geshu Lin to angle his cock into your mouth. A low groan escapes his lips when he pushes past your soft lips and stretches your mouth open.

The sudden intrusion makes you clench around nothing as Geshu Lin's taste floods your senses. A garbled moan rises from your throat as you feel Jiyan's fingers press against your wet entrance, teasing you before pushing inside. The dual sensations make your body quiver with need and lust.

Each noise you make sends shockwaves of pleasure through Geshu Lin's cock, making him thrust a little deeper. He reaches down, squeezing your breasts in his hands as if using them to anchor himself to you. "Fuuuck... That's right, doll. Take my cock", he moans as he forces his length deeper down your throat, making you choke slightly.

Jiyan's fingers continue to pump into you, his own cock throbbing with need when he feels you clench around his soaked digits, desperate for something bigger to fill you up. His thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub.

When Jiyan's finger curl up against your spongy, sweet spot, your back arches up, pushing your chest further into Geshu Lin's grasp. Geshu Lin releases one of your breasts only for his palm to crack down against it, making you let out a choked cry around his cock.

"You better hold off that orgasm, doll. I haven't finished yet", he growls. Jiyan chuckles as you writhe against the sheets, fingers continuously curling up inside of you. "Aww, having a tough time, love?", he coos teasingly, relishing in the way your body aches for more.

You try to speak, to beg them to allow you to cum, but all that comes out are muffled whimpers around Geshu Lin's throbbing cock. You squirm again, helpless against Jiyan's expert fingers, feeling as though your body is on fire. With a snarling growl, Geshu Lin pulls out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Fuck it. Get on your hands and knees. I'd rather cum in your ass instead."

Jiyan's eyes snap up to his at his sudden change of mind, but pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss. Jiyan slides onto the bed, leaning back against your headboard as he beckons you towards him, cock twitching and leaking against his stomach, "Why don't you come up here and ride my cock, love?"

Geshu Lin gives him a sharp glare as he interferes with his plans. As you sit up, you look between the two men, one with a playful smirk on his lips as he pats his lap invitingly and the other has a dangerous look in his eyes that dares you to go against him. Geshu Lin scoffs when you crawl over to Jiyan, straddling his lap instead of following his orders.

Jiyan's smirk widens at your choice as he looks up at Geshu Lin, "Uh oh, seems she might have a favorite~" Geshu Lin snarls at his teasing words, but his eyes can't tear away from watching as you sink down on Jiyan's thick cock with a shuddering moan. Jiyan lets out his own breathy groan, eyes fluttering and head lolling back as he bottoms out inside of you.

Geshu Lin's own cock aches and leaks, still desperate to finish what he started. He climbs into the bed, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your hair, twisting it in his fist as he tugs your head back, "I'm not gonna let you two have all the fun."

He presses a searing kiss to your lips before releasing you as Jiyan's hands slide up your waist, pulling you to lean forward against him. With this new angle, Geshu Lin can see the girth of Jiyan's cock stretching out your cunt and your little asshole twitching in anticipation.

Finally, a little smirk plays on his lips as he lines up his tip with your smaller hole, spitting on it and watching as his saliva drips down towards Jiyan's cock. You suck in a breath when you feel it push and tease against the small ring of muscle.

Jiyan licks up your neck, nipping at your pulse point before pressing a soft kiss in the same spot. His breath ghosts against your slick skin as he teases you, "Relax... You can take it, can't you?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod, making the corners of his lips curl up as his eyes lock with Geshu Lin's in a silent confirmation before pressing another kiss to your neck, "Good girl." You let out a sharp cry as Geshu Lin pushing his cock into your ass the same time that Jiyan thrusts up into your wet cunt.

Geshu Lin hisses as your tight muscles throttle his length, "Fucking relax... Shit...." You feel so incredibly full having both of them inside of you at once, the sensation is utterly overwhelming. You try to hard to relax despite the insane stretch in both of your holes as your body struggles to accommodate them.

Jiyan reaches down, playing with you clit to help ease the pressure. "You're our good girl, aren't you, love..." You relax a little, your breasts squished against his broad chest as you whimper.

Jiyan's eyes flit back to Geshu Lin's with a nod. With zero warning, both men begin to thrust into you holes, making you gasp and moan so beautifully for them.

Both men let out husky groans, eyes rolling back as their cocks rub against each others through the thin layer of skin that separates them. The extra pressure and stimulation sends them reeling as they begin a steady, but brutal rhythm.

Jiyan's cock hits the deepest parts of you, pressing up against your cervix with each deep thrust, while Geshu Lin's cock pushes deep into your unexplored depths.

Tears spring in your eyes from both pleasure and pain. Jiyan continues to rub your clit furiously, bringing back that familiar heat that coils up inside of you as they ravish your holes.

Geshu Lin grips your jaw, tilting your head back as he kisses you with a heated and possessive passion. His tongue pushes and moves against yours as his grip tightens and his hips buck forward erratically.

Watching his friends kiss each other sloppily sparks a possessive and jealous flame within Jiyan. Wanting to bring your attention back to him, he grips your hips and thrusts up especially hard, smirking when you gasp against his friend's lips.

Geshu Lin rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your lips, but moves his hand down to your throat, squeezing lightly. "You're pathetic, you know that?", he scoffs.

You can't tell if that comment was meant for you or for Jiyan but the degradation of his words has you clenching down on both their cocks, making them moan.

Jiyan rubs your clit faster as he spurs on your impending orgasm, "Come on, baby. Cum for us." Your eyes flutter and Geshu Lin applies more pressure to your throat as he whispers harshly in your ear, "I wanna feel you squeeze my cock again. Bet you like being fucked in the ass, huh, doll?"

You whimper, wanting to protest but that would be a fucking lie. It doesn't take long for the coil inside of you to snap as your juices gush all over Jiyan's cock. Both holes milk their cocks for all they're worth as they both shudder and groan, releases load after load of sticky, hot cum inside of you.

Their cocks throb and twitch as they begin to soften inside of you. With another shared look between them, they pull out of you at the same time, making you mewl from overstimulation. Their golden eyes lock onto your holes as their cum drips and and dribbles down your thighs and onto the sheets below.

"Goddamn...", Geshu Lin rasps at the sight. Jiyan feels his spent cock twitch again, arousal pooling in his belly once more. You collapse against Jiyan as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. Geshu Lin sits down beside him and puts his fingers under your chin, making you look to him.

"Give me a kiss", Geshu Lin's voice is softer now, but still holds that commanding edge. You lean towards him, pressing your lips to his gently. He sighs into the kiss, feeling all the tension release from his body. When you pull back, Jiyan redirects your gaze to him, pointing to his own lips with a slight teasing smile, "Me too, love."

You smile a little at both of their antics, but lean forward, kissing him just as softly. Jiyan smiles against your lips before you pull back. Looking between the two of them, your closest friends since childhood, you feel your heart ache with love in your chest.

Leaning forward, you embrace both of them, catching them off guard, "I love you both. I'm glad you're here with me." The sentiment makes them swell with emotions they would rather keep under wraps, but they both love you. They truly do. Always have.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊|

a/n: whew it got a lil emotional at the end there🥲

[yourownutopia]

Ultraviolent Heart

╰┈➤You know how it ends. From the very beginning, you carried that knowledge like an inescapable burden, a quiet ache that shaped your every choice. Yet you stayed—for him. Jin Woo—your confidant, your light in a world of darkness—could never walk with you to the very end. But you couldn't take it anymore. It was too much to bear. So, you leave - knowing your place by his side was never meant to last.

Left behind is Jin Woo, with questions no one will answer and a gaping void where your presence once was. You are gone, and yet the emptiness you leave lingers longer than any memory. ༊*·˚

Implied Jin Woo x Isekai'd!Player2!Fem!Reader | Songfic | Heartbreak | Goodbye | Angst | Jealousy | crying

Crywolf - ULTRAVIOLENT [adrenochrome] ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚--~

Your heart is torturing me.

Knock.

The dull sound of his fist striking hard stone echoed through the air.

Once—not too hard.

Twice—with more force.

Three times—before the rigid concrete wall could no longer withstand the immense power of the Shadow Monarch. Cracks spread across the structure, and where solid stone once stood, now a large, gaping hole remained, with Jin Woo’s hand at its center—much like the gaping hole in his heart.

The overwhelming anger he felt threatened to consume him entirely. Beru flinched violently, fear creeping up his limbs as his master’s eyes glowed dangerously. He had brought bad news—perhaps the worst Jin Woo had received in a long time.

"Search more thoroughly."

The black-haired man’s voice cut through the silence like his blades through flesh. Yet, despite his usual composed demeanor, his voice quivered with rage.

Beru wanted to point out that it was a pointless endeavor. If you were still there, he would have already found you. But his master would not accept that answer.

"Yes, my king," Beru replied reverently before retreating into the shadows, leaving Jin Woo alone in his fury.

This couldn’t be true. No one could simply vanish without a trace. And yet, it seemed that was exactly what had happened.

A thousand miles an hour again.

It had been a week, and none of his shadows could locate you. Even the Hunter’s Association had been unable to find any information about your current whereabouts. There wasn’t even a hint that you had left the country.

But giving up the search would mean it was over. It would mean that a part of him was gone forever and that the memories you shared were nothing more than illusions.

He clung to the last shred of hope he had because, no matter how furious he was with you, he desperately wanted answers.

And all that stays with me

How could you do this to him? He had trusted you so much, and you had abandoned him in the most cowardly way possible—without a word. No goodbye, no note, no message—as if you had never existed. And with that, you had torn a massive hole in his heart.

The anger began to ebb, only to be replaced with a suffocating fear—a fear that had gripped him time and time again in recent days.

Is the fear inside my gut.

It felt as though he was bleeding out, choking, drowning in place. As though his heart was overflowing with pain, longing for your warmth and softness, and all the things he had never been able to say—the things you had denied him. The fear that he would soon no longer remember you gnawed at his soul.

Memories were all he had left of you, yet even they were beginning to fade. What did your voice sound like again? Your beautiful face, once so vivid in his mind, was now blurring. Were you only a beautiful dream from which he had now awakened?

You're the fear inside my gut -‘๑’-

Two years had passed since you had been pulled into this world—the world you knew so well, almost like the back of your hand. The world that had accompanied you through so many sleepless nights as you eagerly read each chapter on your smartphone.

But just as you were about to finish the story, with the last chapter ahead of you, the universe intervened. You were pulled into the story yourself, long before Jin Woo set foot in the double dungeon.

You became Player 2. The system welcomed you like an old friend, and you quickly adapted. At first, you wanted to return home, but the system refused your departure with a single window:

[You can only leave the game when you truly want to.]

And, evidently, you didn’t truly want to leave. You wanted to stay, to experience firsthand the world you had come to know so well. And so, you stayed—with the goal of making life a little easier for Jin Woo, as though that was your purpose.

Starting as a C-rank mage with a few healing spells, you participated in every raid Jin Woo was involved in, which quickly made you friends. He had admired your strength from the beginning, just as you had admired his courage and determination.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t always lend him a helping hand. Every time something story-relevant occurred, no matter how you tried to intervene, it would inevitably happen anyway—only the timing or the path there would show minor deviations.

Whenever this happened, the system would display a message:

[The story will not change.]

The system made it painfully clear that you had no influence over key story elements. And though you had never had issues with the system before, these moments felt like mockery—a cruel reminder of your limitations.

No matter how heavy your heart felt or how deeply you wished you could change things, events unfolded as they were meant to. Ultimately, all you could do was make Jin Woo’s journey a little lighter, which he accepted with gratitude. The two of you were like light and shadow—one could not exist without the other.

You’ve been my reason to breathe

Not only were you an incredible team in battle, your abilities complementing one another seamlessly, but everyone who knew you—or even those who didn’t—could see that you belonged together. He trusted you; you were the light in his life. The lifeline that kept him from drowning in a sea of darkness. The one who reminded him he was still human whenever he no longer felt like one. The one who had held his trembling hands whenever he needed it—even after those hands had taken lives.

You were the one who stayed with him through so many nights, just to keep him from being alone with himself. The one his shadows respected and whom Beru grandly referred to as "his queen."

His shadows had known from the start how Jin Woo felt about you. But he feared telling you, terrified that it might drive you away. No heartbreak in the world could compare to the thought of you no longer by his side.

Of course, you had noticed, probably much sooner than anyone else. How his behavior changed—how his cheeks would flush whenever you complimented him. How he sought your company more often, how his voice would falter when you came close. Things that had always been intimate but normal between you suddenly left him flustered.

How deeply you wished you could give in to it, but you knew better. There was no happy ending for the two of you. You knew it, and the system knew it—perhaps that’s why it had never responded to his advances. Only Jin Woo remained blissfully unaware, while you locked your feelings away and buried them deep.

The gravity that pulls me in

Despite your efforts to keep him at arm’s length—to keep yourself at arm’s length—those moments grew more frequent. Moments when your gazes lingered a second too long or his hugs lasted just a little longer than necessary. Moments when his hand found yours, and your fingers intertwined. Moments when the two of you lay side by side, silently watching the stars, just to have an excuse to share the night.

It was almost impossible to push him away when he looked at you with such tenderness, smiling at you as though you were all he needed. The thought that the two of you didn’t have a chance began to fade into the background, and as long as the system didn’t intervene, everything felt fine.

I can't escape the weight of your ultraviolent heart

Until that day.

-‘๑’-

The Jeju Island raid had been about two weeks ago, and life had returned to normal. People mourned the fallen S-Rank hunters but celebrated the victory of reclaiming the island. You hadn’t participated in the raid yourself, only watched from a distance—at least until the moment when Hunter Cha was injured and Jin-Woo rushed to her aid.

The thought sent a pang straight to your gut.

What disgusting and pathetic thoughts to have. After all, Cha had nearly died—you knew that all too well. And yet, you struggled to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest, which worsened when she showed up at the guild's office building.

As usual, when there was nothing to do, you lay sprawled on the couch, your head resting lazily on Jin-Woo's lap while he scrolled through his phone.

At first, Jinho had been a little taken aback by the closeness between you two. But he’d quickly adjusted to the fact that his two best friends behaved like a couple—despite not being one.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, and Jinho looked up from his computer.

You were momentarily confused before realization struck. You’d spent so many days here that you’d completely forgotten about when Hae-In was supposed to arrive. If it were up to you, you would’ve bolted; the less interaction with her, the better. But that would’ve raised too many questions.

You felt Jin-Woo shift, and you immediately sat up, unwilling to give the wrong impression. The black-haired man gave you a confused look as your warmth left his lap—though he made no move to get up himself.

“Who could that be?” Jinho asked, heading toward the door. You could already hear her soft voice as he opened it.

“Is this Mr. Sung’s office?” she asked quietly. When the door opened fully, all eyes fell on the blonde beauty in the doorway.

She wasn’t just pretty; she was immensely strong. Not stronger than you, but far more graceful in everything she did. She was perfect in every way, much to your dismay.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw you, but she quickly masked her surprise with a polite cough.

Jin-Woo had now risen as well, his gaze cool and appraising as he looked at the young Hunter whose life he’d saved.

“What brings you here, Miss Cha?” he asked, his tone cold—devoid of the softness he reserved for you.

The blonde hesitated for a moment before stating that she wanted to join the guild.

Jin-Woo’s expression didn’t change, though Jinho looked like he’d just been hit with a bombshell.

This wasn’t a surprise to you, of course, but the words still felt like a blow to the stomach.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from Hae-In on the sofa. Jin-Woo sat beside you, once again asking why she was there. The blonde reiterated her desire to join the guild, causing Jin-Woo to frown in confusion as she sipped nervously on a cola. She dismissed his speculations, her cheeks growing redder with every passing moment as she avoided eye contact.

It was almost ironic how Jin-Woo, despite his overwhelming senses, had no clue that Hae-In was flustered. Of course, you knew better. She wanted to be near him because, unlike others, he smelled good and intrigued her. And you had to accept that.

When her face turned beet red and she began fanning herself nervously, Jin-Woo paused and asked again why she was going to such lengths to join the guild.

“I want to live a comfortable life. Is that so wrong?” she replied softly.

Jinho popped up behind you, whispering, “The Hunters Guild must’ve overworked her.”

Jin-Woo’s eyes darted to you, silently asking a question: What do you think?

Of course, you hated the idea. You didn’t want to lose him to her—but what could you do?

Your contemplative expression and brief hesitation were all Jin-Woo needed. He turned back to Hae-In and rejected her request.

Your eyes widened, staring in disbelief at the black-haired man. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—the conversation wasn’t over yet.

Hae-In lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“I understand,” she murmured, looking utterly dejected.

Panic surged through you. What was happening? A deviation?

“W-wait!” you blurted out, drawing everyone’s attention. Hae-In’s gaze flickered with hope, while Jin-Woo raised an inquisitive brow.

“P-please give us five minutes, Miss Cha,” you said, quickly standing and grabbing Jin-Woo’s hand to drag him into the adjacent room.

Almost disappointed when you released his hand, Jin-Woo looked at you as the door closed behind you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, hands on your hips.

He seemed genuinely confused by your question.

“What?”

“Why are you rejecting her?!” you demanded.

Jin-Woo shrugged, his expression indifferent.

“I don’t want her in the guild,” he said flatly, his gray eyes avoiding yours.

He wanted to tell you that you were more than enough for him—that she was unnecessary. But saying so might’ve been too much in this situation.

“This is a one-time opportunity!” you argued, hoping he’d use his brain for once.

“I have you. We don’t need anyone else,” he countered, his cheeks tinged pink.

What the hell was he saying?

No, things couldn’t go this way—it would disrupt the entire timeline. Your thoughts spiraled.

“Then… have her fight Beru!” you blurted out. Jin-Woo stared at you, dumbfounded.

“And why would I do that? She’ll lose,” he said, still not understanding why this mattered so much to you.

“Then it’s a win-win. She doesn’t feel rejected, and you… get rid of her.”

He seemed to consider your words for a moment. From his shadow, the winged ant manifested.

“What do you think?” Jin-Woo asked.

The insect clicked its mandibles excitedly.

“Kekeke, that’s a wonderful idea, my queen,” it replied, clearly far too enthusiastic.

Why could you understand it? No clue. It was probably because you were also a Player, and Jin-Woo had drilled it into Beru from the start that he should listen to you as well. Besides, you liked him—and he liked you.

You looked expectantly at the Shadow Monarch, whose lips curved into a smile as he turned back to you.

“If it makes you happy,” he said, placing a hand on your head. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

-‘๑’-

"Why the hell?!" you asked the moment your feet touched solid ground again.

You, Jin-Woo, and Hae-In now stood in the middle of the training arena. You hadn’t wanted to be part of this situation in the first place, and when the black-haired man had pulled the blonde closer, it had sent a sharp pain through your chest. You wanted to leave. But Jin-Woo had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you here, knowing that words alone wouldn’t convince you to stay. For once, he had chosen to be selfish.

Clearly irritated, you pulled yourself free from his grip and moved away from the two of them, seeking refuge at the edge of the arena. You trusted Beru to avoid accidentally hurting you, but the ant could be reckless in battle.

Jin-Woo watched you walk away, his mouth opening as if to stop you, but you were already storming off. This would have consequences later...

While Jin-Woo and Cha retreated to the armory, you were finally alone with your thoughts for the first time that day. Worry gnawed at you. Everything was unfolding differently than the story you remembered. Was it your fault? Had you interfered too much? If so, why hadn’t the system reacted? And if not... then what was the reason? Something was terribly wrong... but what?

Your mind drifted back to the manhwa, trying to recall the exact details of the events. Yet they eluded you. Meanwhile, the two hunters returned. Cha was now equipped with a weapon, and Jin-Woo stood several meters away. It wasn’t until Beru’s overwhelming aura enveloped your senses that realization struck.

This wasn’t right... She was supposed to face Igris first.

Before you could voice your concerns, the battle had already begun.

The fight went horribly wrong. Beru had lost control, and if Jin-Woo hadn’t stopped him, he would have torn Hae-In apart. The arena lay in ruins, and the black-haired man stood protectively in front of the blonde, while Beru fell to his knees, apologizing profusely.

Slowly, the conversation from the manhwa came back to you. She would tell him that she was interested in him.

I’ve been splintering apart

Badump.

Your heartbeat grew louder in your ears as the other sounds faded into the background.

Badump.

Your heart clenched as your eyes remained fixed on the two of them. They looked good together... too good.

Badump.

Panic slowly but surely crept up your limbs. You didn’t want to be here when she said it. You didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want to face the truth. You had known it all along, but you had willingly ignored it. They were meant to be together.

Badump.

Breaking open from the start

Your breaths became shallow, and your pounding heart grew louder as you watched Hae-In’s cheeks flush pink. Soon, you would see his eyes light up as he realized why Hae-In had taken on all these burdens. The pain in your chest made it hard to breathe, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

Badump.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t even hear the black-haired man call your name as you bolted out of the arena. The cold air outside whipped against your face.

But you didn’t get far. A warm hand gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, forcing you to stop.

“Hey!” His voice was both frustrated and worried—clearly not understanding why you had left without a word.

“Let me go, please,” you said softly, tugging lightly to reinforce your words. But Jin-Woo didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he held on tighter to keep you from walking away.

You bit your lower lip, holding back tears. You avoided looking at him, unable to face the concern in his eyes.

“Hey... it’s not your fault this happened. I shouldn’t have let her fight him in the first place,” he said, his voice quieter now. Was that it? Did he think you felt guilty?

The evening continued its quiet work, slowly but surely extinguishing all the colors. Deep blue blended with pale orange where the last warriors of the sun made their final stand.

Gates of heaven are closing

Much like your emotions, fighting against the encroaching darkness—the images of the two of them vivid in your mind.

“That’s not it,” you replied, your voice strained.

Jin-Woo’s concerned expression hardened further. Was it... because he had dragged you here against your will?

But that wasn’t it.

Your throat felt tight, and you swallowed hard.

“That wasn’t fair of me... I’m sorry, I—” Jin-Woo began, but when he saw your face, the words caught in his throat.

Your expression was equal parts hurt and angry. Your [E/C] eyes, usually so bright with joy, were brimming with tears.

Why was this idiot here and not with Hae-In? Had he left her standing there? Why was he making it so hard for you to do the right thing?

His eyes widened, and his heart sank into his stomach as he took in your pained expression. What was wrong? What had he done?

“Why aren’t you with her?” you managed to ask, your voice trembling. Jin-Woo reflexively released your wrist in shock. What? Who?

You seized the opportunity and ran, leaving Jin-Woo momentarily speechless as his mind raced.

Did you mean Hae-In? Why should he be with her? That made no sense to him at all.

Until suddenly, realization struck. Could it be that...? No. That couldn’t be it.

He quickly caught up to you, your gaze fixed stubbornly ahead.

“Stop,” his voice was calm, and his tone commanding, but you had no intention of listening.

When you ignored his second plea, he firmly grabbed your wrist once more.

The protest died in your throat as he pulled you into his chest, trapping you in a warm embrace.

What did you do in my head?

His scent filled your nose, and the warmth of his body spread through your limbs as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

Why?

Jin-Woo held you tightly against him, one hand on your waist—the other buried in your hair.

“Wha—” you began, your voice trembling, but he silenced you with a soft sound.

“Because I want to be with you,” the black-haired man murmured into your hair, before gently pulling you away to look into your eyes.

The cool gray of his eyes softened, as it always did when he spoke to you, catching your [E/C]. But this time, there was nothing playful in his gaze. He was serious.

Jin-Woo noticed the confusion written on your face.

One of his hands found its way to your cheek, a warm tingling spreading across your skin as he cupped your face.

What are you doing?

“You asked me why I’m not with her,” he explained, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped from the corner of your eye. He had never seen you cry before, and he didn’t like the sight. Especially not if he was the reason.

Weren’t you laying in my bed

He had never intended to tell you, but he couldn’t keep it inside any longer. It had to come out. You needed to know how much you meant to him—that she didn’t matter and that you were everything he had ever wanted.

“I just want to be with you,” he repeated, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He leaned down slightly, as if even this close wasn’t close enough. His breathing quickened as the sun’s rays fought valiantly against the darkness creeping over the sky.

Your heart pounded wildly, and your thoughts raced. Your palms grew sweaty, and you felt as though you might faint at any moment. The tension between you was palpable, begging for resolution.

You wanted to bridge the remaining inches, to tell him how you felt—to throw all your plans out the window.

Jin-Woo took a deep breath.

“[Y/N], I lo—”

[The course of the story remains unchanged.]

The window that flickered behind the black-haired man for a fraction of a second was a knife in your heart, now riddled with cracks, as you reflexively pressed a finger to his lips, stopping his sentence.

He fell silent immediately, looking at you in confusion, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Had he misread the signs after all?

Telling me I was chosen

“Don’t,” you whispered softly—your voice barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

If he said those three words, it would be over—there would be no turning back. If he said those words, you would break. If not now, then eventually—when fate ran its course. Because if you had learned one thing, it was that the system would find a way.

His throat tightened, and his chest constricted.

"I can’t—" you began haltingly, stumbling over your words. You couldn’t think of a single sentence that would make this situation any less painful for him.

You lowered your gaze, feeling Jin-Woo give up. His embrace loosened, and his arms fell limply to his sides.

You didn’t want to do this, but you had no choice. There simply wasn’t a happy ending for the two of you. Happiness together wasn’t meant to be.

Jin-Woo was hurt—he couldn’t believe how wrong he had been.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered before daring to look into his eyes one last time—eyes filled with anguish—before you turned and walked away.

-‘๑’-

The following weeks were quiet. Too quiet.

Jin-Woo and you hadn’t spoken since. Both of you were waiting for the other to take the first step, but neither of you dared to break the uncomfortable silence.

For Jin-Woo, the situation was clear: you didn’t return his feelings and wanted distance, just as much as he did. Yet it still felt wrong.

Your presence had taken over his life; he saw your shadow everywhere. Your absence had left a gaping hole, and the simplest things no longer brought him joy. Even Jinho was dejected. His shadows, too, felt the emptiness your absence had created in his heart—his inner turmoil and recklessness as he threw himself into battles reflected it.

Beru, in particular, wasn’t happy about your absence and kept asking after you until Jin-Woo firmly explained that you wouldn’t be coming back. The insect accepted it, albeit with a heavy heart.

Now I don’t even know you, and that’s the best part of it

Weeks turned into months, and Jin-Woo had regained much of his strength. He had grown more ruthless, focused solely on his goals. He had achieved so much, but none of it mattered if you weren’t there to cheer him on.

Neither the recognition from the Hunter’s Association nor the countless media articles praising him to the skies brought him any satisfaction. It wasn’t your recognition, so he didn’t need it.

He buried his heavy heart behind a wall of indifference, but he realized he was drifting further and further from any semblance of a normal life. He was rarely home, found himself in increasingly precarious situations during battles, and noticed how little he cared.

No matter what he did, nothing could fill the void.

It simply couldn’t go on like this, so he decided to do something he usually resisted.

He resolved to ask Hae-In on a date.

All I know, you’re the only thing that I see in color

While Jin-Woo threw himself into leveling up, you had shut yourself away at home for some time. Jin-Woo’s wounded face was burned into your mind; after all, it was the last thing you had seen of him.

Guilt gnawed at you, sapping your strength and will to move forward.

You had lost weight, only left your home for absolute necessities, and spent most of your time sleeping. You cried so much that you began to believe you had no tears left.

Every fiber of your being missed him.

His voice.

His scent.

His laughter.

Even his reprimanding tone when you and Beru got into trouble.

Everything about him. Your heart cried out for him, whether you were awake or asleep.

This heart is torturing me

A sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your phone screen—the numerous missed calls from Jinho had gradually become fewer, but he never gave up.

More guilt.

But what could you do to fix this? Calling Jin-Woo? Just tell him the truth? Maybe that would be the fairest way…

Countless times, you had typed his number into your phone, only to stop yourself at the last second. The fear that he wouldn’t believe you was too great. Or was it the fear that he would believe you?

You shook your head and stood up. This couldn’t go on. You had to talk to him, at least one last time—to come clean before you returned home.

You couldn’t bear the silence between you anymore.

The only pain I understand

Your eyes widened as you stared at the TV screen. A photo had just appeared on the display—your hands instantly dropped the paper cup you’d been holding, spilling the hot coffee it contained onto the ground.

With your mouth slightly open, you stared at the screen, which was displayed in the shop window of a store you had just been walking past.

You had stopped in your tracks as the image suddenly changed, revealing a paparazzi photo.

It showed Jin-Woo and Hae-In, with his arm around her shoulders.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything—maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding—but in your current state, you didn’t want to hear any of it.

Your heart had already cracked when you had to reject his feelings, but this time it felt as though it had shattered into a thousand pieces.

Your mouth went dry, and you couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

You stared at the picture as if hypnotized.

You half-expected a spiteful inner voice to appear, taunting you and telling you it had been right all along—but it stayed silent.

I can't escape the weight of your ultraviolent heart

You tore your gaze away from the screen, and your legs started moving on their own.

Faster.

Much faster.

As if you could somehow run away from it, as if these images wouldn’t follow you for the rest of your life.

Your body instinctively reacted to the pain in your soul, numbing it.

The pain ebbed away, leaving behind an emptiness that took over, shielding you from breaking down—at least for the moment.

When the door to your apartment finally closed behind you, shutting you away from the public’s eyes, every bullet hit you at once.

Your stomach churned, forcing you to vomit into the sink.

Your body doubled over, and you clung to the edge of the counter until the shaking subsided, until you rinsed your mouth and collapsed to your knees, clutching at your chest in anguish.

Your body trembled uncontrollably as you screamed out the pain you had been holding back for so long. You screamed until your voice grew hoarse, until no words could escape your throat anymore.

How had it come to this? Why had he entered your life if he was never meant to stay? Why was the universe so cruel? What had you done to deserve this?

It’s a poison in my gut

It took an eternity for your body to stop trembling and the sobs to subside. Your tears dried up, your body too exhausted to produce any more.

You sat on the floor, your back against the wall, drained of all strength. Your head throbbed, and every trace of willpower had left your body.

Weakly, you lifted your hand and swiped downward in the air.

[Do you really wish to leave the game?] [Yes] / [No] [Yes]

Jin-Woo woke with a silent scream from his nightmare, his hand outstretched, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps as he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

A few seconds passed before he realized he was in his bedroom. The full moon shone through his window, bathing everything in silver light.

It was just a dream…a damn nightmare. But it had felt so incredibly real.

His hand clutched at his chest, which ached under the crushing weight of emotion. He had seen your tear-streaked face as you looked at him, whispering a faint, “Goodbye.” Relief washed over him as he realized it had only been a dream. He rubbed his eyes, only to notice the glimmer of tears on his hand under the moonlight.

But it still felt so real - he felt so hollow, as though a giant hole had opened in his chest. As if something was terribly wrong. His mind wandered to you once again, missing the warmth of your Presence once more. He was sure you had seen the News, the speculations and rumors about his relationship with the blonde S-Rank - but they were all false. He only wanted to shield her from the Spotlights, since it was him who dragged her along in the first place. The Date with Hae-In was a welcoming distraction from fighting in a Dungeon, but it felt all wrong. It just made him realize once more, that it was you he wanted by his side - as lovers or friends, he couldn't care less. He just wanted you.

His resolve hardened: tomorrow, he would visit you and ask for your forgiveness, hoping you would be willing to forgive him. Hoping the empty feeling would finally disappear, that he would be whole again.

With that thought in mind, he drifted back to sleep. But the emptiness remained.

You’re the only thing that I see in color.

[to be continued....] ღ ◌ ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ ღ

Wow, this story just came to me while I was on the bus, listening to music…what can I say—I had to write it down before it was too late!

English isn’t my first language! I hope everything was understandable and legible.

since y'all are just suckers for drama, there will be a part two~ But first, the first chapter of my other Jin Woo x Reader story [Shadowborn] will release next week! stay tuned! The Prologue is already out! Thanks for all reblogs, likes & comments.'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*' ~Utopia ༊*·˚

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way. 

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’ 

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door. 

‘Long day.’ You send another message. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood. 

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can. 

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.” 

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads. 

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.” 

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.” 

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?” 

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.” 

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested. 

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go. 

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize. 

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.” 

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot. 

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge. 

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.” 

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing. 

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him. 

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat. 

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?” 

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.” 

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?” 

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful. 

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder. 

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny. 

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him. 

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.” 

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma. 

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes. 

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra. 

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue. 

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.” 

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly. 

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need. 

[jjkamochoso]

hii im so glad your requests are open, ive had this idea for a while and couldnt wait until you opened them

since you wrote about both jjk men and reader describing their type my idea is that maybe before reader and jjk men got together reader had to describe their type and reader described something totally different from jjk men lol (maybe it was before they even became friends) and men find out and get insecure so reader has to comfort them

Oh my gosh I love this!!! Thanks for sending this request in, I had an awesome time writing it!! I hope you enjoy🫶❤️

JJK Men When Your Type Was Something Totally Different From Them

Very Light Angst, Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

You and your boyfriend were sitting at a table in a cafe one day, enjoying drinks and each other’s company, when all of a sudden the serene atmosphere was shattered.

“Oh my god! Y/n, it’s been so long!”

A friend you hadn’t seen in a few years greeted you excitedly as you invited them to sit at your table.

“I can’t stay long, I have an appointment to get to,” they said as they eyed your boyfriend and smirked. “Who’s this?”

You introduced your friend to your boyfriend and they exchanged pleasantries. You and your friend then caught up for a bit until they checked the time on their phone.

“Seriously, two look really cute together,” your friend said, giving you a tight hug goodbye as they readied to take their leave. “Although, y/n, isn’t it funny how your type changed? I remember you told me awhile ago, when you were single, that you were into…”

Yuji:

“…super tall guys with black hair. Real dark, mysterious types.”

After your friend had left the cafe, Yuji was sporting a frown where a smile usually rested.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he replied, pushing the food around his plate with his spoon.

“You’re not very convincing, Itadori,” you teased, poking his arm softly.

“Do you think I’m cute?” he blurted out, taking you by surprise.

“Of course I do,” you responded, dumbfounded. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Your friend,” he said, “they said your type is the total opposite of me.”

“Yuji, the last time I talked to them was three years ago. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Yuji looked up from his food, his face immediately brightened. “Really? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind since then? Because of me?”

“Yep, the only type I have is my fun loving, big hearted boyfriend Yuji Itadori, I promise,” you told him, leaving a kiss on his grinning cheek.

Megumi:

“…carefree boys with light colored hair and eyes.”

When your friend had gone and it was just you and Megumi again at your table, you noticed a change in his mood.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," Megumi replied sharply, causing your extending hand to retreat back to your side of the table, not wanting to bother him. He sighed. "I just... why are you with me?"

Your eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm not affectionate, I don't know what I'm doing in a relationship. I'm not even your type." He whispered the last sentence, his eyes burning a hole through his coffee mug.

"Oh Megumi, ignore my friend. The last time I've brought up anything with them that had to do with crushes or "types" was years ago, long before I laid eyes on you. I love you because you're you and I wouldn't want you any other way."

"I guess I could try being more carefree if you want," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a pale pink.

"I could sooner see you bleaching your hair," you replied, laughing softly as Megumi sent an annoyed look your way.

Yuta:

“…overly confident boys with blonde hair."

"Geez, I guess I'm not your type at all, then, huh?" Yuta wondered when your friend was out of sight, anxiously picking at his jacket sleeve.

"You weren't my type three years ago when I talked to my friend last, no," you replied, not wanting to lie to him, "but that doesn't matter. You're absolutely my type now. I don't think there's a boy more handsome or perfect for me than you are."

Yuta's face sported a red tint from him blushing at your words. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do, my love," you said, leaning over the table and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, leaving him more flustered still.

Inumaki:

“…guys who were super talkative and tall.”

Right as your friend left your table, you watched as Toge pulled his phone out.

"Let me stop you right there," you said, gently guiding the phone from his hands to the table, spying the dreaded, "I'm sorry I can't talk to you, you deserve more" note you knew he had already started typing. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want you to ever forget that. What my friend said, that was my type years ago, way before I knew a guy like you existed. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend than you."

Toge blinked slowly at you before picking his phone back up.

"You better be erasing that original message because you know I don't care that you can't really speak," you said sternly, earning a meek thumbs up from the boy sitting across from you. When he passed his phone back over to you, you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your throat as you read what he wrote.

While we're out, should I buy a pair of high heels?

Noritoshi:

“…extremely tall, tan, and muscular men.”

“Great. That sounds just like Todo,” grumbled Noritoshi after your friend left, taking a sip of his tea.

“I didn’t even know him back then,” you replied, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes at his jealousy. “Sure, I had a type, but that doesn’t mean I have to stick with it. You’re the most handsome man I know and you look nothing like that.”

“Do you promise I look nothing like Todo?” questioned Noritoshi, stifling a laugh.

“I swear.”

He gave you a gentle squeeze of your hand. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Todo:

“…skinny, short, pale guys.”

"That's definitely not what you said when I asked your type," Aoi said, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can't believe my friend brought that up," you groaned. "Back then, yeah, I was into super thin guys, but that all changed a few years later, right before I met you."

"Are you sure all my muscles don't bother you?" he teased, flexing his arm as he reached across the table to caress your cheek.

Your face warmed at his gesture. "I'm sure," you choked out, "but I wouldn't be opposed to you showing off your arms more often just so I can be 100% positive."

Aoi let out a hearty laugh as you sank further into your seat, flustered by your handsome boyfriend.

Ino:

“…super buff guys with dark hair.”

Ino kept his focus on his drink for a long time after your friend had spilled those details about you, obviously bothered that he looked nothing like that.

"Hey," you said after agonizing minutes of silence, "please don't take that to heart, that was my type a long time ago."

Ino looked up at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy. "But has it changed? If I'm not your type... why would you want to be with me?"

"Ino," you said, standing up from your side of the booth and sliding into his, "I wouldn't date you if I didn't find you handsome. You are so kind and loving, and I think you're the absolute hottest guy on the planet. Maybe even the universe."

He dramatically pulled his beanie over his face as he dropped his head into his hands. "Now I have to compete with dark haired, shredded aliens?!"

Consoling him took much longer than anticipated!

Gojo:

“…quiet, short guys with facial hair.”

Satoru couldn't hold back his reaction when he heard that.

"That's your type?" he asked, shaking with laughter. "What the hell are you doing with me, then?"

"Satoru, stop," you pleaded, clearly embarrassed. "The last time I saw that friend was years ago. I was a whole different person."

"Do you not find me pretty?" he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever had the privilege to meet," you responded, playfully tapping his nose with your finger. "It would be interesting to see you with a mustache or something though."

You both got quiet, imagining what Satoru would look like with facial hair.

"Sorry I ever brought that up," you said.

"Blegh!" he replied, sticking his tongue out. "You owe me another pastry later because I lost my appetite picturing that."

Geto:

“…men with light hair and soft facial features.”

Your friend had walked away, leaving Suguru to mull over their words.

"Am I too... sharp for you, darling?" he asked, trying to joke but was clearly affected.

"That was my type forever ago, Suguru," you told him, earnestly taking hold of his hand that was resting on the tabletop. "You've been the only man for me ever since I met you. No one can compare to your beauty."

"Hmm," he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink, "I must say I enjoy hearing you praise me in such a way. All is forgiven."

"Good. I will love only you for the rest of my days, no matter how many round faced, blonde haired men try to whisk me away."

You witnessed his fingers tighten around the tea cup in his grasp. "I'd like to see them try."

Nanami:

“…men with long, dark hair and blue eyes.”

You paid no mind to your friend's words, knowing they were just reminiscing over something silly before they left. Kento, on the other hand, was busy spiraling as he ate his croissant.

"Everything okay?" you asked him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes.

“Do you not… find me attractive?”

You almost spit out your drink in shock. "I'm sorry?"

He wore a sheepish expression. "Your friend said that your type was men with long, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't fit that description at all."

"My "type" that they brought up was from many, many years ago," you said, rubbing your thumb against his hand to console him. "The only thing I find attractive now, after having met you, is a certain Kento Nanami. Brown eyes, short blonde hair, and all."

"I'm sorry for getting worked up over nothing," he said.

"You don't have to apologize for that," you told him, "it just shows how much you truly care. I love you for that."

You gave him a small peck on the lips before you two went back to savoring your time together.

Choso:

“…super preppy guys with blonde hair and green eyes.”

The only thing that ran through Choso's mind was confusion.

"I don't look anything like that," he uttered suddenly, tilting his head.

"I know, I was into those kinds of guys years ago," you confessed.

"But not anymore?" he asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

"Not anymore," you confirmed, sending him a small smile to ease his nerves that were noticeably running rampant at the thought that you didn't find him attractive. "My type now is guys with dark hair in two buns and an adorable black mark across their nose."

Choso let out a relieved sigh as you giggled and continued eating your food.

Toji:

“…short men with long blonde hair.”

As soon as your friend got up from the table, Toji had a disgruntled expression on his face. "Care to add anything to that?"

"I liked guys who looked like that when I talked to my friend last, which was, admittedly, a very long time ago," you explained, getting a grunt of displeasure in response. "And then I met you and I realized what my actual type was."

"And what's that?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You leaned in over the table, getting as close as you could to your handsome boyfriend.

"A real man," you all but whispered, eyeing him playfully. Toji's eyes widened ever so slightly before falling back into place, his lips transforming to a smirk.

"Sounds like your friend had it all wrong, then," he replied, winking at you.

[shares-a-vest]

I feel like over the past week and a half, I have been any given one of the trio in this ficlet. So yeah, I'm projecting onto my blorbos. Enjoy!

Eddie can sense Steve isn't in bed when he blinks awake. It's still dark out and the apartment is freezing. Well, Eddie is freezing without the furnace-like warmth of his boyfriend curled into his side.

He looks over at Steve's nightstand to find that the alarm clock only reads a little past 3am and that's when he begins to panic. It's nowhere near time for Steve's early morning run, nor is it a reasonable enough hour that he might be pottering about in the living room.

So, Eddie hops out of bed and is immediately hit by the winter chill of the two-bed apartment he and Steve share with Robin.

He shivers as he walks into the hallway, where he finds the apartment still shrouded in an icy darkness. He chances a peek into Robin's room, where he finds his housemate sound asleep and snoring, lying in the middle of her bed and certainly without the company of her best friend.

Steve has nightmares – hell, the three of them do. But Steve usually ends up with Robin if the situation arises.

Eddie continues on, now tucking his hands under his armpits, hugging himself as he dips his chin into the loosened neck-hole of his oversized sweater – a maroon-coloured former Harrington Classic.

He tiptoes along so as not to disturb Robin, almost sliding his socks along the floorboards as he makes his way into the living area, his path illuminated by outside street lamps.

Eddie tsks under his breath when he comes across Steve, curled in on himself as he lays soundly asleep on the couch, his nail bat close by on the floor.

Steve hums, or more shivers – visibly freezing as he sleeps in nothing more than an old pair of gym shorts whose material Eddie suspects might evaporate the next time they find themselves in one of the building's shoddy washing machines.

He sits by his boyfriend's side and places a hand on Steve's shoulder, desperate to stir him enough to coax him back to bed, but not spook him entirely.

"Sweetheart," he stage-whispers as Steve grumbles.

"Hmm?" he murmurs before startling awake. His eyes snap to attention and he looks up at Eddie as he speaks full volume, his voice groggy, "I heard a noise."

Steve rubs at his arms, the iciness of their surroundings hitting him now that he is (at least, partially) conscious.

"Love, I need you to come back to bed, it's freezing out here."

"But, I heard a noise," Steve whines, sitting up now.

Eddie can't help it, he presses his palm to Steve's cheek and his heart skips a beat at just how cold he feels.

"Shit," he curses and loops his arm around Steve's middle, commanding, "Bed, now."

Steve grumbles, but complies, lazily reaching for his bat before they both stand up as one. Eddie takes his boyfriend's weight, the bat dragging along by Steve's side as they shuffle back towards their bedroom.

Steve shivers and continues mumbling something about the noise he heard. And Eddie can't tell if it was an actual noise or something heard in that strange (and admittedly, scary) space between wake and sleep. Whatever it is, Steve seems both frightened and stubborn all in one.

He shudders again and Eddie can't bring himself to bite his tongue any longer.

"Baby, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Typically, he'd be all over Steve in such a state of undress – with all that hair and muscle. But right now, his arms are peppered with goosebumps and his eyes are starting to droop with every step.

"Got hot before," Steve explains, weary.

They pass by Robin's bedroom and the door opens fully, revealing a duvet-covered mass and in the darkness, Eddie can still spot a frown.

"What's going on?" she asks, voice like gravel but nonetheless worried.

"I heard a noise, Robbie."

His tone pains Eddie from his heart down to his gut and the same must happen to Robin too because, in an instant, she retreats to her room in haste.

Eddie continues on to his and Steve's bedroom and gently lowers Steve onto the edge of the bed before he takes the baseball bat. He makes a show of rolling it back under the bed but Steve isn't watching. Instead, his boyfriend is looking over at Robin, who has reappeared, cradling a handful of items and hunching her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep some kind of hold on her blanket.

Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and crosses her as he heads off in search of a sweater. He rifles through a drawer and listens on to what sounds like Robin crowding the nightstand with her stuff before she swishes about the excess bedding. Steve whines and Eddie turns back to find Robin with her arm around her best friend.

"Alright," Eddie says, holding out a navy sweater, "Time for bed."

He gestures for Steve to lift his arms up and he complies. It takes a moment, but Eddie wrestles the near-dead weight of Steve into a cozy sweater before he lifts his legs to help him into bed.

"In the middle, Dingus," Robin instructs, "And don't snore."

"How about, you don't fart," Steve quips, shuffling into the middle nonetheless.

There's a bitchy lilt to Steve's voice that has Eddie relaxing a little. He rolls his eyes, thinking the pair burrowing under the covers will probably bicker on. But honestly, he'd prefer that to the balled-up, half-naked, scared Steve he found out in the living room.

Eddie exchanges a glance with Robin before she reaches for the nightstand and grabs a hot water bottle, her Walkman, a notepad and a pencil.

"What the hell are you doing?" Eddie grouses, rounding his side of the bed – thankful to slip back under the covers.

But he pauses mid-way, distracted now as Robin juggles with her wears.

"I need my things," she grumbles as she places the hot water bottle on her stomach and dry sobs, "Oh no, it has gone cold!"

Steve rolls his eyes in Robin's direction, more sleepily than annoyed.

"Eddie, go get some hot water," he mumble-commands, turning to snuggle in close to his best friend.

"What?"

"Eddie..."

"Fine," he reaches for the hot water bottle and snatches it from Robin's grasp.

Eddie thinks he must love his boyfriend a lot, considering how he freezes his ass off to a doubled-over, teeth-chattering level in the several minutes it takes for their stupid kettle to warm up. And by the time he gets back to the bedroom, Robin is quietly snoring with Steve tucked into her side, the two of them forming a single hair-filled mass of platonic soulmatedness.

Eddie tucks the hot water bottle under Robin's covers as best he can and resumes his spot, giggling at the thought of the inevitable drool that is going to make its way into Steve's hair at some point. He snuggles in behind Steve, forming a cocoon around him and his boyfriend snuffles at the touch.

"It's okay, Stevie," he says, kissing him just behind the ear, "Get some sleep. Don't think about the noise. You're safe here with me and Rob."

"What about my ba –"

"It's back under the bed, sweetheart," Steve hums at that, relaxing against him, "We'll figure out the noise in the morning, I promise."

"'Kay," Steve breathes more than speaks as sleep overcomes him, "Love... you."

"I won't let anything hurt you, Steve," Eddie says, hugging him tight.

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: tooth rotting fluff

A thunderous sound wakes you in the middle of the night. You blink in the darkness, trying to get your bearings. Slowly, you flip on the light and look around. Everything seems to be in place. The thunder-like sounds come again, startling you. You quickly shuffle out of bed and down to the front door, flipping on lights as you go.

You get to the door as the person knocks a final time. It was such a ridiculously loud knock that you're sure it probably woke the neighbors. You open the door to reveal a worn down looking Ghost. He's still in his gear and has his go bag slung over one shoulder.

"It's four in the morning, Riley," you tell him pointedly, not having enjoyed being woken up.

"Barracks needed renovations, need somewhere else to stay," he grumbles. You sigh and open the door wider so he can squeeze past you. The barracks are fine and accommodations would have been made if they really did need to renovate them. This was merely a lame excuse to stay at your house. He always came with a bad excuse.

You slip into the kitchen to start heating up some leftovers and putting water on to boil. Simon heads to the living room, toeing his boots off and taking a second to relax. He leans back against the couch. Simon always liked your house, ever since you had the team over for a barbecue. That was over a year ago. He liked that you had warm lights, not the florescent white ones he was used to. He liked that you didn't have overhead lights, only cute little lamps and fairy lights. He liked that your house always smelled like milk and honey. He liked that your couch was soft and covered in blankets, not like the couch in the barracks that had holes the stuffing was falling out of. He liked that he felt safe.

This routine started shortly after the barbeque. Simon would show up on your doorstep after a mission, bruised and battered. You always welcomed him in, no matter how late or how early. You would make him tea and something to eat. Even though he has told you several times that it really isn't necessary. He likes that you're so reliable, that you never push him more than he's comfortable with. He's surprised and grateful that you have yet to turn him away.

You come into the living room, setting down a tray of soup and bread. It smells delicious and Simon sits up, his stomach rumbling. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought. You chuckle lightly at him. "What's your pick of poison tonight? I just dried a fresh batch of mint," you ask. Before Simon met you, he would have said earl gray. It's the only tea he drank for years. But after spending the night so often and you happily chatting about the newest herbal tea blend you made, he slowly came around to trying something new. His favorite, and yours, was peppermint. The warm, sweet menthol helped him relax.

"Mint please," he says, barely above a whisper, "with sugar."

You crack a smile and nod. Your disgruntlement at being woken up seems to have dissipated. "Eat up. Tea will be done in a minute," you beam, retreating back into the kitchen. Simon watches you disappear before picking up the tray. He takes a bite of the soup and can't help but sigh. It's warm and savory and it reminds him of a hug. This was his favorite part of staying at your house. Your cooking was always phenomenal to him, even if you said it wasn't your best. He loved everything you made.

One time, you made cookies and tea cakes for the 141. Price had put them in the common room, telling everyone you had made them treats. Johnny was the only one who managed to snatch a cookie before Simon commandeered the rest. Kyle had pouted for days. Not that Simon cared much, he was too busy scarfing down tea cake.

You come back to the living room, sitting down beside Simon. He was nearly finished with the soup by now. You set his tea down in front of him and curl up into the couch cushions. You knew he didn't like to talk much, certainly not if he was coming over after a mission. No matter what excuse he told you, you knew why he was here. You knew you would wake up to his screams tonight. You knew you would have to coax him into your bed. You knew you would spend the night running your fingers through his hair while he silently cried into chest. You always knew. And yet you didn't care. In fact, you started to look forward to getting a late night knock on your door. You hated that he couldn't let go of his demons, you hated to hear the pain in his screams. But you liked that he found comfort in you. You liked that he felt safe with you.

You gently reach over and start carding your fingers through his blond locks. A shiver runs down his spine before he begins leaning into your touch. He sets his tea down and lays down, his head in your lap. The warm light makes your skin seem to glow and you were being so gentle with him. He swears you might be an angel. No mortal woman could see such a scarred monster and still treat him with such kindness. Not after knowing all the blood he's spilled. But as his eyes begin to get heavy and he listens to the soft lullaby you hum, he knows he's willing to spill more if it means he can spend his nights here with you.

(I might make this into a full fic if it gets enough interest. This was inspired by a post from @bookished

Edit: I just posted chapter one)

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

The Quiet Game

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

The room was buzzing with activity right before bed. Your group had finished eating and using the restroom and were now joking and horsing around. The light mood and a smiling Young il and Gi-hun, brightened your draining and depressing day.

You were in the process of standing up before you felt someone pull you into their lap, you saw Young il’s hands wrapped around you.

“Whaaaattt?” You drawled out dramatically.

“What do you mean what?! I just wanna hold you” he says innocently.

“No no, you holding me in such a manner is never innocent” you reply. Knowing his games already told you he was certainly up to mischief. You could just IMAGINE the smile on his face.

“What? Me not being innocent? (Y/n) I’ll have you know: I am an absolute angel”

“Yeah angel my ass” you roll your eyes. You felt him start tickling you, unable to contain your laughter.

“What is it, (y/n)” he teases. “Can’t catch you breathe?” He says as he pauses and starts again before you can gulp some air through your laughter. Through you squinted eyes, you could see the other laughing too as you thrashed in his arms, laughing so hard you teared up.

“Stop, Young il, stop tickling me” you said through strained breaths.

“Please retreat to your beds, bed time is in 5 minutes” you heard the PA announce. Young il stopped tickling you and kissed your head. You nearly choking due to how much air you were trying to take in from laughing so hard. The others were catching their breath as you finally started breathing normally.

“Bed time guys” Jung bae said as he walked to his bed.

“Yeah, goodnight guys” Dae ho agreed walking towards his. Gi hun nodded before stepping down a level. You laid in your till the lights went out before sneaking into Young il’s.

“You know, they definitely know we’re sleeping together” he whispers.

“Whatever, it’s none of my business” you shrug.

“(Y/n).” He says flatly. “It’s about us, literally your business”

“Ours.” You reply as you trace your hands up and down his body. He silently pulls your hand down into his pants. you feel his cock harden slightly.

"I want to cum" he says quietly in your ear. You nodded as you feel his hands creep down into your track suit. "You have to be quiet. If you manage, I'll make some special arrangements for strawberry (or whatever favorite flavor of milk) milk" he gives you incentive to keep your mouth shut.

"Okay" you stroke his dick gently as you gear him up. He matched your pace, going right in time with your strokes. His thumb circling your clit. His hips thrusted up ever so slightly as you sped up.

"Oh my god" he groans softly. You feel precum beginning to soak your hand. Taking advantage of it you rub it down his dick as lubricant. “Fuck” he drawls out through a stifled hand. His fingers entering your hole. You bit down on your lip to keep from moaning at the feeling.

“Faster” you beg. Already feeling the knot in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was the way his body was twitching or if it was having to keep extra quiet, you were so horny and close to cumming. He sped up as your pussy throbbed around his fingers. Your hand stuttered on his cock forcing him to bite his jacket.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” he says. He angels his hand to hit your spot to get you closer.

Oh my god you thought. You couldn’t possibly not moan. The getting closer to release was making you hot. Young il was bucking his hips, his body jolting and twitching almost uncontrollably, your own body copying suit. You couldn’t hold it back any longer. You released all over his fingers as he kept finger fucking you through your orgasm. He pulled his pants lower to not get cum in them.

“Oh god, I’m cumming” he cried quietly into your ear. You shift quickly but quietly to catch the cum in your mouth before it gets in the bed or on the blankets. Swallowing every drop as he jerked it into your mouth. He finally emptied completely, pulling you back to him. His still hard cock pressing against you as he pulled you into him.

“You’re totally getting that fucking milk, (y/n). Such a good fucking girl you are” he traces small shapes on your ass. He kissed you before laying his head down.

“I better get that fucking milk, young il” you giggle softly. You kiss him lips, letting him taste the remnants of his cum. He swirls his tongue in your mouth. You turn in his arms to be spooned.

“Such a spoiled girl, always getting cuddled your way”

“Really? You’re the one that likes pressing your hard morning wood on me in the mornings, this makes it easy”

“Good point. Good night, pretty girl” he whispers in your ear. “Sleep good”

“Good night Young il” you reply, yawning. “I love you”

“I love you too” he responded.

[wonderjanga]

Rewrite of the Shazam! Movie

I… personally disliked the Shazam movie. It could’ve been better in my opinion. So, this is how I think the movie should’ve gone.

So… let’s just get to it.

It’s 1944 during the height of World War II. People are abuzz with wanting to learn all the newest updates on the war. Whiz Radio is a Fawcett owned company on the verge of bankruptcy due to its lack of popularity.

The movie opens with Billy running from a couple men. In his hands are a couple of canned food items, bread, and other things. The opening credits would simply be Billy running past a wall plastered with posters advertising the new position open at Whiz. Every time a person would run in front of the wall, the credit would change to another person. So like Billy would run and the opening director’s name would appear, one of the men running after him would pass in front of the wall and the screen writer’s name would appear, etc. There can be like ten dudes for comedic effect.

During this entire chase, Billy would be nameless, the only things he’d be called are brat, thief, etc by the men. He eventually lose them in an alleyway and retreat to whatever hobbit hole he’s staying in. On his trudge back home he’d pass by a mansion, Ebenezer’s mansion, because remember he stole Billy’s inheritance. He’d stop and stare and we’d get a whole flashback of him learning how his parents and sister died, his uncle kicking him out, and so on. This is where we’d actually learn Billy’s name. After this, he’d continue his trudge back home and that scene would end with him walking into his apartment and closing the door with the camera getting the door shut in it’s face.

The next scene would start with Billy opening the door and heading out. We’d see a little bit of Billy’s day such as him taking on odd jobs and such for cash. But, when he’s on his way back home, he hears a whisper and looks over to see… his dad? We don’t actually get to see his dad‘s face. It’s just fuzzy. He waves to him and walks off with Billy following after.

Billy: “Dad?”

Billy’s Dad(?): *doesn’t answer and keeps walking*

Billy: “Dad?” *sounds more urgent*

Billy’s Dad(?) leads to the train station. They get a cute little moment of waiting by the tracks together were fuzzy C.C. offers his hand which Billy takes as they get on the train. As soon as they get on the train, Billy’s dad disappears and Billy’s left alone.

Then, fast forward the usual thing. The Wizard tells him that he’s worthy and pure hearted, and that he should be the Champion of Magic and to light the brazier if he ever needs him. Like usual he dies from getting crushed by the rock.

We see Billy stuck with no idea of what to do with his Marvel form. But, he gets his idea to be a superhero when he’s walking out of the train station and passes by a war propaganda poster with Bulletman and Spy Smasher on it. We get a quick little monologue about how they’re both amazing heroes and Billy even drops a little detail about how he used to have Bulletman’s action figure. This is when one Billy decides that he wants to be like them. A hero who can spread joy through saving others. Someone with a greater purpose. Someone who is more than Billy Batson. (Place emphasis on the self-deprecation of how he wants to be more) The scene ends there with the camera facing Billy’s back as he stares at the poster.

The next scene opens with Captain Marvel’s back to the camera. It’s now been two weeks and Billy is now officially Captain Marvel. We get a little scene of him, stopping a purse snatcher like it’s nothing. Right after him stopping the snatcher is when Sivana’s finally introduced. He’s also Danny DeVito because I say so. Anyways, since the movie is meant to be lighthearted, Sivana acts much like a cartoon supervillain. He has this robot suit and they duke it out before Marvel beats him and takes him to jail.

Of course, Sivana breaks out, but while he’s breaking out, Billy is at the Whiz Radio trying to get the job because he needs money. We get a little scene of Mr. Morris interviewing Billy.

Mr. Morris: “Now, do you have any experience reporting? In the slightest?”

Billy: *in the fanciest clothes he could find, aka his red and yellow sweater with his jeans* “Ah… no. But I tell stories to the other homeless kids and they like them. So, I was kinda hoping that would be enough….?”

Yeah, Billy was not Mr. Morris‘s first choice. So instead, Mr. Morris makes a deal that if Billy can turn in Sivana, he’d give the kid the job, not that he believed the kid could catch a Supervillain. After this interaction, Billy leaves bummed that he probably isn’t gonna get it because he thought Sivana was just a one off thing and was still in jail. Eventually, though he finds out, he broke out.

So Marvel goes around looking for Sivana only to realize that this time it won’t be so easy to catch him. Somehow, Sivana upgraded from that one incident with Marvel. This results in Marvel running around, actually having to gather information as both Billy and Marvel, both through spying as a little kid, and intimidating goons as a grown man. Every time he can uncover a little bit of information we get shown in a notepad with facts on it and as the information gathering goes on, it gets filled with more and more notes and even little drawings and scribbles too. I would also like to see Billy scratchy handwriting, and Marvel‘s beautiful handwriting, alternating.

Unfortunately, when Billy is spying on some more goons, he accidentally gets caught and tied to a chair. This is where he meets Sivana face-to-face as Billy instead of Marvel.

Sivana: “That imbecile sent a kid? Gosh.” *rolls his eyes*

So, yes, he gets trash talked straight to his face and then alone in the in the room. This is when Billy discovers that he doesn’t need Marvel to be great. He gets his Miles Morales moment and lightnings the binds off of him, rips off the gag covering his mouth and says his magic word. Billy leaves as Marvel and as Sivana is wrecking havoc, he gets sent a video from a security camera in the room of Billy transforming.

Sivana: “It was that little brat the whole time?! The sneaky little thing was right under my nose!”

He throws a bit of a temper tantrum, and Marvel finally shows up to throw hands. They have their big battle, they somehow end up in a secluded area, Marvel finally beat him, and drags him to the Whiz building as Billy. The scene ends with Billy walking into Mr. Morris‘s office with Sivana knocked out. He has the biggest widest smile on his face. He looks the happiest he’s ever been in this movie. This scene ends like the first one with closing the door on the camera, but with Billy proclaiming that they have to talk business.

The end.

As for the end credits, after they play, we get a tiny little tidbit at the end that’s supposed to take place two years later and it's of Sivana working on a something with his back faced towards the camera while in the background, we hear Billy on the radio reporting on something. The camera then proceeds to slowly pan over him until it’s looking directly down on him and you can see in nice big bold letters: Suspendium.

Yup. The Suspendium bomb.

Boom. Perfect cliffhanger. I’m out. Deuces. I’m going to sleep now.

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Car Inspection

A/N: Yet another little smut scene, *no longer a drabble (Drabble? Who's she?), but still short. Like with my other drabbles, you can imagine any character you want here, it's usually just a man and a woman having a good time. Today I give you oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex and creampies. And cars (so think up an AU where it works, if you will).

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 1.3k // AO3

“Lemme take a look under the hood, miss,” he's said, and now she's sitting on the warm metal, gripping his broad shoulders, legs held open by strong hands, while he has his head buried under her skirt.

His tongue is as hot as the sun batting down on them, licking through her folds with fervor and certainty, expert motions, warm lips, teasing teeth, kissing, sucking, nibbling, pulling her sensitive skin into his mouth, nose rubbing against her clit.

He's lapping at her like a man starved, the slurping and squelching noises mixing with the chirp of cicadas, the subtle squeak of the car beneath her, her own rapid breaths. He's good, knows what to do, where to look and lick. She's come to the right place.

Her skirt obstructs the view, but she's still on display, writhing and squirming, bare feet squeaking over the metal hood in an attempt to anchor herself. He's ruthless in his assault, focusing now fully on that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue around it, laving it, sucking on it.

She's losing it, her head spinning, it's too hot, the air is stale and dry, and her lungs are protesting. The tension in her belly is like a burning thing, growing and expanding, filling her out like she wishes he would fill her out.

He groans into her, the sound vibrating through her clenching cunt. His hands move, one big palm pressed to her stomach, forcing her down on her back, the other slipping under the tent of her skirt as well. He's teasing her, nibbling on her clit while his fingers slide through her slick before they take a dip into her heat, plunging deep, two at once, pushing in and out, scissoring inside her, stretching, massaging, curling against that sweet spot.

She arches her back, shoulders pressed into the hood, cries out, thighs trembling around his shoulders, her own shaking hand gripping at his wrist, nails sinking into his skin before he slips his long fingers between hers, holding her hand, heavy on her stomach. He pumps his other digits into her, licks her clit, the tension explodes within her. Their joined hands hold her down when she convulses, jerks her hips against his face and fingers, shivering under the hot sun.

He licks up every drop with broad strokes of his tongue, his fingers moving slower, bringing her down gently before they retreat, gripping her twitching thigh, warm and slick and strong, while he pushes his mouth to her lower lips, kisses her deeply, tongue pressing into her quivering hole.

She wails again, quietly in the open space, her voice drowned by the screeching insects trying to be louder.

He's shifting, emerging from under her skirt, nose and lips and chin glistening in her juices, hair messy, face flushed. She's also red in the face, panting, trying to avoid those hungry eyes. His hands find her warm cheeks when he straightens up, towering over her.

His kiss tastes tangy, salty, sweet, all at once and more, her own taste on his tongue as he claims her mouth. She moans into it, clinging to his bare back, sweat slick and strong, muscles flexing beneath sun touched skin. He pushes her up the hood of the car, his hips between her shaking legs, pinning her down, skirt flipped up entirely now. His body is blocking the view, she couldn't care less who sees her.

With his tongue wrestling hers, he grips her waist, one hand disappearing between them, the clink of a belt, the whirring scrape of a zipper, a little groan when he grips his cock and guides it to her dripping cunt. She moans into his mouth, fingernails sinking into his skin while he sinks into her, small frantic rolls of his hips as he slowly fucks her open, stretches her, fills her, in and out, inch by inch until he's bottomed out.

His hands on her hips pull her into him, closer, deeper, her legs spasm against him before she hooks them around his thick thighs. Muscles flex under denim, his grip rough as he starts pulling out to slam back in, over and over again, his grunts as loud as her moans, the kiss messy and breathless.

She's lightheaded, sun-burnt, a sweaty mess in his strong grip, her hands gripping at his waist, leaving angry crescent-shaped marks as she squirms against him, trying to meet his thrusts.

He leans back, leaving her tingling lips, presses his forehead to hers, eyes staring into her soul, warm and dark and mesmerizing, hungry, breaths hot and dizzying, mingling. His hips slam into her slower, deeper, setting an excruciating rhythm, taunting, teasing, slow and steady while they're both burning under the sun, the heat inside her belly almost as unbearable.

She's whimpering, grinding her pelvis into him, digs her heels into his lower back, eyes pleading. The smirk on his lips makes her angry, growling through her gritted teeth. His hands tighten around her hips, fingers bruising, and when he leans back fully, a barely there shadow falling onto her shaking body, looking down at her, he stops moving altogether, cock hard and swollen inside her clenching cunt.

She wants to protest, whine, beg, but he only looks at her, tilting his head, before he slowly moves back, cockhead scraping against her tight walls, before he slams back in with a force that makes her yelp, flinch, cry out, as he hits her deepest spot, tip squished against her cervix.

The pain is there, sharp, short, dissipating slowly before it's back, dragging retreat, the hint of reprieve, then another deep stab, hard, fast, agonizing. Again and again, until he grows impatient and just hammers into her, her moans and cries broken up, voice strained, helpless, as his cock pistons in and out, rough and unrelenting, and all she can do is take it.

He grunts, sweat running down his temple, a fine sheen on his bare torso, muscles flexing, his teeth bared and gritted, hands digging into her soft skin. Pull, push, stab. Pull, push, stab. Her own sweat mixes with tears, her cries soundless little puffs of air, her head filled with vertigo and bliss, pain and pleasure. One big hand splayed on her hip, the other moving between them, thumb pressing hard against her clit, and she yelps again, and again, coming hard around his pounding cock, juices coating his length, squelching out with every deep slam.

The car is rocking beneath them, suspension squeaking, needs to be oiled. She's come to the right place. Come at the right place. Over and over again until she's a boneless mess, lying on the hood of her car, arms splayed out beside her, sweaty palms squeaking over metal with every deep thrust, body moved up and down, insides convulsing, muscles contracting, tight around his thick cock. He grunts, groans, huffs, head red under the sun, under the exertion, working overtime.

He comes with a low growl, animalistic, body twitching against her, burying himself deep within her clenching heat, balls tightening, cock spasming, filling her with his hot seed, spurt after burning spurt. She gasps when his hand pushes on her stomach, before he slowly pulls out, panting, eyes glued to her reddened pussy, watching intently, an expert's eye, head tilted, then he slaps his hand on her folds, making her wince.

She's pulled onto her feet, barely able to think, to function, dizzy from the sun and the special service. He lifts her feet, one at a time, puts her panties back on, slides them up her shaking legs. His cum drips down her inner thigh, slowly, slow enough for him to gather it on his finger and push it back up, between her glistening folds, back into her clenching hole. She moans at the sensation, gripping his arm for support. He keeps his finger in her while he pulls her underwear back in place, pumping it slowly before removing it, gently dragging his wet fingertip between her covered folds, trapping his seed.

“I believe there's been a leak, miss,” he says, fixing her skirt, making her presentable again as he looks at her with a proud smile, having found the problem, while she looks up at him with a soft giggle, feeling their combined juices drenching the fabric between her trembling thighs.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Sleepy

Tension Relief

[webslingingslasher]

I know we’re all obsessed with frat!peter, but are there any instances where nerdy!peter gets a lil mean too?

for the first time ever, peter is ignoring your call. there are times he's unable to answer, but you know he's purposely watching his phone ring before he silences it.

he's actively ignoring you and you want to scream.

peter doesn't get mad at you. but he is. and it's making everything worse. you can't apologize if he won't talk to you.

it's been two days.

'if you don't call me back in an hour i'm coming over.'

'and yes, that's a threat.'

peter must be really mad. because he didn't answer.

'hi, is peter around?' you can tell may wants to shout the truth, instead she shows solidarity to her nephew. 'sorry, honey. he's out right now.'

you challenge her, 'can i wait for him?' may isn't playing your games, 'he didn't say when he'd be back.'

it's not may's fault, but you still huff at her. 'he has to talk to me at some point.' you see a flush of parent coat over her features.

'sometimes when someone is hurt, they need to think about how to react to it before it gets worse.'

you feel like crying, 'is he really that mad at me?' may slowly closes the door, 'i'm sorry, but peter isn't home.' you want to catch the door and bark out to peter, who you know is holed up in his room, but you respect his space and leave.

it was all your fault. you pushed his harshest barrier and you swear you didn't mean to, it was just the most hurtful thing you could spit out in a moment of fury.

instant regret. you swore you heard peter's heart break the second you finished. his crushing silence hurt more than an equal blow. he just calmly grabbed his backpack and left. and you let him, you were speechless, you couldn't believe the things that came out of your mouth.

you retreat with a few texts.

'i'm sorry, peter. i really, really am.'

'i won't keep bothering you, just talk to me when you're ready.'

'i love you. and i know you love me too, so you don't have to say it back tonight.'

and he doesn't. not when you check before bed and not when you wake the next morning. you've never felt peter's cold shoulder before, but it's icy and stings.

you'd see him on campus and he couldn't ignore you in person, right?

there was only one way to tell, and it was when you saw him sitting at an outside table. scribbling in a notebook while he looked over a textbook and some sheets, he never looked so pretty.

it's selfish, but you want nothing more than to kiss him.

'hi.' sitting backwards, your back hit the edge of the table. if he tells you to fuck off you'll make a quick escape. looking at his side profile he shows no reaction, he was expecting you to join him.

'hi.' peter doesn't share the interest to look at you.

'wanna talk?' you hold your breath, hopeful he'd say yes and you could do your best attempt at damage control.

'not really,' his calm nature unsettles you. you'd rather he spit in your face.

'can i talk?' peter didn't want to talk, but he might listen. you just wanted to make it okay, or try.

you think he agrees just to get you to leave quicker. 'sure.'

anxiety scratches your insides, you've never been so ashamed in your life. it was an odd feeling wanting to do nothing but hold peter close to you while you apologize, while also knowing he wanted nothing to do with your touch.

'i'm sorry. i've never been more sorry for anything in my entire life and i don't know how to make it right. i would do anything to take it back, if i could go back in time to stop myself i would.'

it's unfair, but the reality of the situation hits. tears prickle at your eyes. you just feel so bad.

'i don't know why i said that, and i regretted it the second it left my mouth. i could try to come up with a million excuses, but i said it and i'm taking accountability. i know it doesn't help, but, like...'

you close your eyes, when you open them a tear races down your cheek. you're quick to wipe it. it's not about you.

'i am really fucking disgusted in myself. i'm ashamed and embarrassed and i know i broke your heart. peter, i... i took the darkest part of you and weaponized it. i broke your trust and i am a really, really, really bad girlfriend.'

you deserved the silence. 'you're mad at me and that's fair. i can't say it enough, but i want you to know i'm sorry.'

the last sentence caught his attention, peter shakes his head and laughs under his breath.

'you see, the thing is, i don't think i'm mad. i'm just really fucking hurt. you told me ben was just waiting on someone to put him out of his misery.'

you wince. it sounded so much worse coming from his mouth, it was like the words burnt him and left a bad taste behind. they were seared into his brain. there was nothing in the world to justify what you did.

'you were right. you broke my heart and trust in one go. how do you fix it? i don't know, but i can't even look at you right now. talking to you feels like i'm pulling glass out of my skin.'

'i'm glad you're disgusted with yourself, because i am too.'

there was the blow. it wasn't half as harsh as yours, but it dug deep. you couldn't blame him either. it's entirely too selfish, but you need to know if there's something to work for.

'are you going to break up with me?' you sound sad but you wouldn't blame him if he said yes, you would only blame yourself forever. you don't like how long the silence was, it felt like he was actually thinking about it.

'i don't know.'

three words made you feel empty. the future of your relationship and happiness was a gamble all because you couldn't shut your mouth.

'okay.' it wasn't. 'i know it seems pointless now, because i already failed at it, but i'll never say anything like that ever again. i never, ever wanted to hurt you like this.'

for the first time in three days, peter looks at you. he looks tired.

'you did. that's why you said it. you were mad and i wasn't feeding into it, you got even more upset and said the most hurtful thing you could've to me.'

you're desperate, 'i know! but i swear it wasn't on purpose! i didn't know what i was saying until i said it, and i mean, c'mon peter, you know me. i've never said anything like that before, and i won't ever again.'

peter throws you a bone, maybe he really heard the desperation in your voice. 'i know you're sorry, i know you feel terrible and you wish you could take it back. but that doesn't make it okay. and i need you to understand that.'

you nod quick, 'i do! i understand, i promise.'

peter sees it differently. 'i don't think you do. if you did, you wouldn't be here begging for me to say everything's okay.'

his words make you pause, you see his stance in a different light. your apologies have done nothing but make peter feel like he has to accept them. may said he needed space and you haven't given him any, instead hounding him with texts or forcing him to listen to the same string of sorry's.

you stand, it's very clear to you what needs to happen. if you have any chance of reconciliation. you need to cut contact.

'you're right. i didn't see it like that, but you're right. the second i walk away, i promise i'm done. no more texts, no more surprise visits, no more bothering you on campus. nothing. you come to me when you're ready. no matter the conversation.'

you follow your word and do just that while trying to ignore the worst form of anxiety that crosses over your chest. walking away, unsure if your boyfriend still loved you, was a feeling you wouldn't wish on anyone.

it spreads the longer you hear nothing from peter. was he adjusting to life outside you? should you be doing the same? you didn't realize how much you wrapped peter into your life until he wasn't around.

you had to find a classmate to do revisions with. you had to plan lunch with friends instead of peter. you had to scroll past articles and memes he'd enjoy. you had to stop yourself from texting him a hundred times a day.

the closest you got was a glimpse at his face when he was talking to a friend across campus, he was laughing. you felt relieved knowing he was happy, until you noticed it didn't seem like he missed you all that much.

after four days and all hope lost, you decided it was time to wave the white flag. it was over, if you grieve the relationship now it won't be so bad when he tells you officially. you'd be able to walk away without a panic attack.

while wallowing to yourself in your room, you berate yourself internally for ruining the one true good thing you had. spider-man was entirely too calm when he entered your room right as you felt a tear race down your cheek.

'why are we crying?'

you sit up, you've never been so happy to see the masked hero. until you piece together why he's there, you weren't pre-maturely crying after all.

sniffles around your words, 'cause we broke up.'

the mask is off in a second, 'who said that?' you shrug, the answer is in front of your face. 'isn't it obvious?' peter sits next to you, 'we're not broken up.'

you still don't feel comfortable, 'are we going to be?' peter rewords himself, 'i'm not here to break up with you, no.' 

‘then why are you here?’

peter exhales deeply, a tired excuse of a laugh. ‘i can be upset with my girlfriend and miss her at the same time.’ for just a second, you brighten. ‘you miss me?’

‘yeah. of course i do.’ you almost explode when peter pats your knee, ‘you’re my best friend.’ it’s enough to make you want to cry. you fall into him, an awkward hug, he doesn’t say anything.

‘you’re my best friend too. i missed you so much, i’m so, so, so sorry, peter.’ you melt when a gloved hand rubs your back, it’s not even his skin but you’ve missed his touch so much it’s enough to settle you.

‘it’s okay.’

the words you’ve been looking for, your heart soars. digging your fingertips into his shoulder blades, you hold him tight. ‘is it?’ you don’t want to force him into it.

‘it is.’

except when you remember your words it still doesn’t feel okay. you’re not sure if it ever will. you wonder if that’s what peter was waiting on. 'i don't know, peter. i don't want you to resent me.'

'hey,' you're held at arm's length, peter wants to make sure you're looking at him. 'i took time away so i wouldn't resent you. you really, really hurt my feelings, staying away helped me protect yours.'

you can't imagine the strife you placed on peter, you know actions speak louder than words, but it's a promise to yourself that you will never do anything like it again.

'i'm so sorry, peter. i feel terrible.'

a hint of a smile, 'i know you do. watching you squirm has been a little fun.' you drop your jaw, the nerve. 'oh, you're so mean for that!'

peter cleared his throat, you weren't out of the fog yet.

'but, seriously. that fucking killed me, i mean, i really thought i couldn't breathe. i was just... shocked. shocked more than mad or sad or... i'm not sure.'

you open your mouth, peter stops you, he knows what you're about to say. 'and i don't want you to keep apologizing. it happened, we worked through it, and it doesn't need to keep being mentioned.'

'okay.' it's quiet, you understand what he means, but you feel like you can't explain your sympathy enough.

'ben was one of the most important people in my life and i opened up to you about it. i know it was in the heat of the moment, but you can't use those things against me. it will make me feel like i can't share anything with you.'

'i'm-' peter cut you off with your name, you held your lips closed.

'you're not a bad girlfriend either. you tried. you reached out, you stopped by, you apologized, you stayed away. you did everything you could do to prove how sorry you felt. even if i ignored you, that didn't go unrecognized.'

peter takes a deep breath, 'so,' his hands cup your face, thumbs brush your cheek bones softly. 'i love you, i'm not breaking up with you and it's okay.' peter rubs his nose against yours, 'okay?'

peter isn't saying it's okay because it's fine you talked to him like that. peter's saying it's okay because he sees your imperfections and loves them. peter's saying it's okay because he's said some things he doesn't believe either.

peter's saying it's okay because we're all allowed to fall from grace from time to time.

you want to say sorry, instead you smile and push against his face with your own.

'okay.' 

'good. now give me a kiss, i've been dying for one.'

[favefandomimagines]

Aftermath (r.c)

Summary: the direct aftermath of JJ Maybank’s murder

AN: this takes place during loml, my fic about JJ’s death

loml

The boat rocked gently as it cut through the dark, endless stretch of ocean, the distant horizon a blur where the water met the sky. No one spoke.

The only sounds were the lapping of waves against the hull and the occasional creak of the boat as it swayed. The Pogues sat scattered, their usual camaraderie replaced by an oppressive silence that wrapped around them.

Y/N Maybank sat curled in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her tear-streaked face was angled downward, hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair. Every now and then, her body would tremble, as though another wave of grief threatened to drown her.

Rafe Cameron sat just a few feet away, watching her from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t moved since they’d set sail, glued to her side like a shadow.

He knew better than to touch her or try to say something comforting—words felt meaningless now—but he stayed close, his presence steady, a silent promise that she wasn’t alone.

He hated JJ. Or, he had hated him. The kid was everything Rafe found annoying: loud, brash, and always itching for a fight. But as much as he’d wanted to punch JJ more times than he could count, it was impossible to ignore the gaping hole left behind by his absence.

Rafe glanced back at Y/N. She hadn’t made a sound since they left Morocco but her grief was palpable, radiating off her in waves that Rafe could feel in his chest.

She wasn’t just mourning a brother. She was mourning her other half, her twin, the person who had been with her through every moment of her life.

John B sat at the helm, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the horizon. Kie and Pope were huddled near the bow, their expressions distant, lost in their own thoughts.

Normally, the Pogues were a loud, chaotic group, but now they were eerily quiet, each of them retreating into their own private pain.

Rafe’s gaze returned to Y/N. Her fingers twitched slightly, brushing against her knee as if she were trying to ground herself. He shifted closer, not enough to invade her space but enough to remind her he was there.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him. Rafe didn’t take it personally. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to fix this. JJ was gone. Nothing would change that. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone, not when she looked so broken.

He leaned back against the wall of the boat, his knees bent and his arms resting loosely on them. The ocean stretched endlessly around them, the water so dark it looked black, a mirror for the hollow ache in his chest.

“Rafe,” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, soft and shaky.

He turned his head sharply, surprised she’d spoken. Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips trembling as she struggled to form words.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice gentle.

She shook her head, letting out a choked sob before burying her face in her hands. Rafe’s chest tightened, and without thinking, he moved closer, his hand hovering near her shoulder before finally resting on it lightly.

She didn’t pull away, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into him.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

||

The dock loomed closer, a hazy outline against the muted blues and grays of the early evening light.

The weight of exhaustion bore down on everyone as the boat slowed to a crawl, the hum of the engine fading into an eerie quiet.

As they approached the ferry dock, the group noticed the figures waiting on the shore—familiar faces etched with worry and frustration. Kiara’s parents stood side by side, their arms crossed, their expressions a mix of anger and relief. Heyward was there too, pacing with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Sheriff Shoupe stood off to the side, hands on his hips, watching the approaching boat with his usual air of quiet authority. And then there was Luke Maybank, leaning against his rusted truck, his eyes scanning the group as if he were counting heads.

Luke felt a sense of responsibility for this group of kids having left for a foreign country. He told JJ and Y/N who their parents really were and they got wrapped up in something that was, unknown to him, fatal.

The boat docked with a soft thud, and the Pogues climbed out one by one, their movements slow and deliberate, as though every step drained what little energy they had left.

Rafe stayed close to Y/N, his hand holding hers as they stepped onto the dock. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, her face pale and hollow. But she wasn’t letting go of Rafe’s hand. It was probably the shock, but she was gripping onto him like a lifeline.

As soon as they set foot on land, the flood of questions began.

“Do you know how worried we’ve been?” Mrs. Carrera’s voice was sharp, her worry manifesting as anger. “Running off to God knows where again?”

“You could’ve been killed!” added Mr. Carrera, his voice booming.

Heyward joined in, his frustration boiling over. “What were you kids thinking? This ain’t a game!”

The Pogues stood silently, letting the scolding wash over them like a wave. No one had the energy to fight back. Y/N’s head hung low, wishing she could physically shield herself from the weight of their words.

“Do you have any idea what—” Mrs. Carrera started again, but her voice faltered as she finally took in their faces.

The shift was palpable. The adults’ anger dissipated as they noticed the heavy silence, the grief radiating from the group like a physical force. It was Heyward who first noticed the absence. His brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the group more carefully.

“Where’s JJ?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Luke, who had been leaning against his truck, straightened. His gaze zeroed in on Y/N. “Y/N, where’s your brother?” He asked.

The question landed like a blow. Rafe felt Y/N stiffen beside him, her shoulders jerking slightly as though the words had physically hit her. She took a shaky breath, her hand trembling as she raised it to wipe at her face. For a moment, it seemed like she might not answer.

“He’s…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, trying to force the words out. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Luke’s voice was sharper now, his eyes narrowing. “Where is he, Y/N?”

“Groff killed him, Dad,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “He’s not coming back.”

The dock went silent. Even the sound of the waves seemed to fade into the background. Luke stared at his daughter, his face twisted into something unreadable—shock, disbelief, maybe even guilt.

“Gone?” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

Y/N didn’t respond. Her body trembled, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to hold back another wave of tears. Before Luke could say anything else, Heyward stepped forward.

“C’mere, girl,” he said softly, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest as he rubbed her back soothingly.

Heyward had always been more of a father to her and JJ than Luke ever was, and in that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline.

Rafe stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he watched the scene unfold. He wanted to comfort her, to take her pain away, but he knew this wasn’t his moment. He stayed rooted to the spot, his jaw tight as he struggled to keep his own emotions in check.

Shoupe cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. “Where’s Groff now?” he asked, his tone businesslike but tinged with a quiet anger.

He should’ve never let them go after Groff. He should’ve handled it himself or the boy that he worked so hard to look out for wouldn’t be gone.

Rafe stepped forward, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “He mentioned something about Lisbon. I’d start there.”

Shoupe nodded, scribbling something on his notepad. “We’ll handle it,” he said firmly. “You kids need to go home. Be with your families. Let us take it from here.”

No one had the energy to argue.

||

Sarah took Y/N’s hand gently, guiding her toward the deputy’s car that would take them home. The atmosphere outside the dock was heavy, the kind of weight that pressed down on everyone, leaving them emotionally drained.

Y/N lingered by the car, her hands shaking as she tried to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. John B stood with her, saying something before the two hugged.

Rafe stood a few feet away, his shoulders tense as he wrestled with the pull to go to her and the knowledge that he couldn’t force his presence.

Sarah’s hand landed lightly on his arm. “Rafe,” she said softly, drawing his attention. Her tone was gentle but firm, and she didn’t need to say much more for him to know what was coming. “She needs space.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand over his buzzed hair in frustration. “But look at her, Sarah. She’s barely holding it together.”

“I am looking at her,” Sarah replied, glancing toward Y/N, who was now leaning against the car, staring blankly at the ground. “And I know you think you can fix this for her. But you can’t.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “I’m not trying to fix anything. I just… I don’t want her to be alone tonight.”

“She’s not alone,” Sarah insisted. “She has us. She has me. She has Pope, Kie, John B—”

“They’re not what she needs right now,” Rafe cut her off, his voice thick with emotion. “I know her, Sarah. She’s hurting in a way they can’t touch. I can.”

Sarah crossed her arms, studying her brother. There was something different about him now, something uncharacteristically vulnerable in the way his usual bravado was stripped away.

She sighed, her voice softening. “I get it. You care about her. But I know her too, Rafe, she’s my best friend. And caring means giving someone the space to fall apart.”

Rafe looked at Y/N again. Her shoulders were trembling now, barely perceptible, but enough to make his chest ache. The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms, was almost overwhelming. But Sarah’s words stuck in his mind.

“Let her fall apart,” Sarah said quietly. “Let her cry, scream, break if she has to. She’ll come to you when she’s ready. But right now, you have to let her take the first step.”

Rafe closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. “And if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Sarah promised. “But only when she knows she can. Don’t take that from her.”

The sound of the car door opening brought their conversation to a halt. Y/N was climbing into the backseat of the deputy’s car, her movements slow and robotic. Sarah touched Rafe’s arm again. “Go home, Rafe.”

He nodded, though every fiber of his being screamed against the idea. “Yeah. Fine.”

||

The door to Tannyhill creaked open with a soft, hollow sound as Rafe stepped inside, the familiar surroundings of his home almost feeling foreign. His shoes made no noise on the marble floor as he moved through the foyer, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the past few days.

The light from the entryway cast long shadows down the hallway. He dropped his keys onto the console table, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet house. Sofia was sitting in the living room, an unfamiliar figure in the corner of a room that had once felt like a sanctuary.

Sofia’s face was set in a delicate mask of emotion—part anxiety, part guilt. But Rafe wasn’t in the mood for her presence. Not today.

He paused, his brow furrowing. He had been hoping for some peace, for the chance to decompress, to let the exhaustion settle into his bones, but the sight of her—waiting in his house, uninvited—was a reminder that not everything was as it should be.

"I thought I told you to leave." he said, his voice flat, emotionless. Sofia stood slowly, her lips parting as if she were about to say something.

She hesitated, clearly unsure of how to approach him, but there was a quiet urgency in her eyes. “I just… I needed to talk to you, Rafe.”

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose, the frustration already building. He didn’t have the energy for this.

His mind was still spinning from everything that had happened—JJ’s death, Y/N’s cries echoing in his head,—and the last thing he needed was to deal with Sofia and her betrayal.

“I’m not interested,” he said as he turned to walk past her, heading toward the back door. He needed air. Space. He needed to escape for a moment from the suffocating reality of everything pressing down on him.

But Sofia stepped in front of him, blocking his path. She looked hurt, though Rafe couldn’t bring himself to care. He was done with her games, done with the mess she had caused.

“Please, just let me explain,” Sofia urged, her voice cracking slightly as she took a step closer. “I know I messed up, but I—”

“No.” Rafe snapped, his voice loud and sharp, cutting her off mid-sentence. His anger flared up suddenly, burning hot like a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface all day. “I’m done with the explanations, Sofia. I’m done with the lies. You sold me out.”

Sofia flinched, her eyes wide with regret, but Rafe wasn’t finished.

“You knew what Groff was doing. You knew he was using me, using both of us. You helped him, betrayed me, and then you act like everything’s okay? He killed JJ.” His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding.

"I just had to pry someone I really care about off of her brother’s dead body, and you think I’m in the mood for your sob story? For your ‘explanation’?"

Rafe’s words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion and anger. His hands clenched into fists by his sides, the nails biting into his palm. He wanted to keep his voice steady, but the more he spoke, the harder it became to control the rage that threatened to bubble up.

Sofia’s face crumpled at his words. She looked vulnerable, torn between regret and the need to defend herself. But Rafe wasn’t interested in hearing it. Not anymore.

"You broke my trust, Sofia. There’s no going back from that," Rafe continued, his voice cold now. "I’m done with you. Leave the ring and get out."

For a long moment, Sofia just stood there, her eyes searching his face as though she were waiting for some sign, some indication that he hadn’t meant what he said. But Rafe stood still, unmoving, his gaze hard and unyielding.

She took a small step back, and without another word, she turned, took the ring off of her finger, placing it on the console table and walked toward the front door, her footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

Rafe stood in the middle of the room, his breath slow and deliberate as he tried to calm the storm within him. It wasn’t just the betrayal that stung—it was everything. The lies, the manipulation, and how it all led to this. How it all led to nothing.

Rafe didn’t feel relief. He didn’t feel satisfaction. He felt numb. Empty. He had been so sure of what he wanted from Sofia, of what they had shared, but now, in the wake of everything that had happened with JJ and Y/N, he realized that all of it had been a distraction. A poor substitute for something real.

Sofia had been his way of hiding from the inevitable. The consequences of his own choices. The fact that JJ was gone. The fact that Y/N was now left to pick up the pieces of her broken world, and Rafe—he couldn’t fix that. He didn’t know how. He had nothing left to give.

Rafe stepped outside onto the back patio, the cool air washing over him like a balm to his soul. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as the quiet evening settled around him. The house behind him was still and silent, and for the first time, it felt like it might collapse on him.

Reaching into his pocket, Rafe pulled out his phone, his fingers lingering over the screen as he swiped through the photo album.

It was the one he had hidden from Sofia—the one full of late-night selfies, candid photos of Y/N, snapshots from their secret beach dates, moments when the world had seemed just a little bit brighter.

He opened the album. Y/N’s face stared back at him from the screen, her smile a little shy but full of warmth. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Rafe’s chest tightened as he gazed at her, remembering how everything had been before this nightmare started. Before JJ’s death. Before the broken pieces of everything they had once shared.

But that was before. Now, the world felt like a place he didn’t recognize, and Y/N was a person he couldn’t even reach anymore.

It was then that he made a decision. As much as he hated the thought of it, he knew what he had to do. He couldn’t fix her pain.

But he could be there for her. When she was ready, when the dust settled and the grief didn’t feel so suffocating, he would be there.

He would wait.

With a deep breath, Rafe closed the album, his thumb lingering over the picture of Y/N for a long moment. She wasn’t ready yet, but when she was, he promised himself he’d be right where she needed him.

And that was all he could do.