#perhaps.. flutters my lashes holds out my hand

[krikidilly]

Mrm. I should answer my asks.. awaaa

[flowerbunnyboo]

PROSTATE PLAY | back

starring: oc (Adam) x male reader

summary: Adam is a urologist, a doctor that deals with penises and prostates. Little did he expect to have one of the best sex ever with a random patient on a random day

nsfw

a/n: this is a repost. I have written one with a kpop idol. Thought I should post this without a kpop idol for the non kpop fans because I love the sayuncle videos

It was a typical Wednesday morning at Dr. Adam’s urology clinic. Patients trickled in, each with their unique set of urinary issues. Adam, a tall and handsome man in his early thirties, greeted them with a warm smile as he efficiently diagnosed and treated various conditions - from kidney stones to prostatitis.

Just before lunch, a new patient arrived, introducing himself as Mn. He looked to be in his late twenties, with short dark hair and piercing eyes that seemed to hold a secret. As Mn settled onto the examination table, Adam couldn't help but notice the way his slender fingers drummed against his thigh, betraying a hint of nervousness.

“So, tell me Mr. Mn”,Adam began, leaning over the chart, “What seems to be the problem?”

Mn shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the sterile white room before finally meeting Adam’s gaze.

“Well, Doctor... I've been experiencing some discomfort down there,” he gestured vaguely towards his crotch, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It's like... my dick just feels off sometimes”

Adam raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “Off, how exactly? Painful? Tingly? Or perhaps... “. His voice trailed off suggestively as he allowed his gaze to linger on Mn's lap, where a noticeable bulge strained against the fabric of his jeans.

Mn's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “N-no pain, really. Just... sensitivity, I guess. And sometimes it gets hard without warning”

Adam nodded thoughtfully, making a note on the chart making another mark beside 'Premature Ejaculation'.

He glanced up at Mn through his lashes, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hmm, interesting. Well, let's take a closer look, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, Adam reached for the stethoscope hanging from his neck and deftly unbuttoned Mn's pants.

The cool metal pressed against sensitive skin as he listened intently, his breath hot against Mn's inner thigh.

“Mmm, sounds healthy enough”, Adam murmured, his fingers trailing lightly along the waistband of Mn's boxers. “But I think we should rule out any potential prostate issues. Just a routine exam, don't worry”

Mn bit his lip, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through him at Adam’s touch. ‘Prostate exam?’ Was that normal for this kind of visit? He didn't think so, but the doctor's confident demeanor put him at ease.

Adam carefully peeled down Mn's boxers, exposing his erect cock to the cool air of the exam room. A low whistle escaped his lips. “My, you're quite the one, aren't you?”

Mn's face burned even hotter, but he couldn't help shying under the praise.

Adam’s hands were gentle as they wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow squeeze. “Relax, this won't hurt a bit”, the doctor assured him, his thumb rubbing teasing circles over the sensitive head.

As Adam began to stroke Mn's length, the young man felt his resolve crumbling.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and Mn found himself arching into Adam’s touch, his hips instinctively rocking to meet those skilled fingers. “Oh god, that feels...amazing”, he panted, his eyes fluttering shut.

Adam smiled to himself, pleased by the reaction. He picked up the pace, pumping Mn's cock with increasing urgency. “You're doing great, just relax and enjoy it”, he cooed, leaning in close to murmur against Mn's ear.

The heat of Adam’s breath sent shivers down Mn's spine, and he could feel his balls drawing up tight, signaling his impending climax. But just as he teetered on the edge, Adam abruptly pulled away, leaving Mn aching and empty.

“Almost there, but not yet”

Adam said with a wink, his own erection straining visibly against his scrubs. “Now, let's see about that prostate of yours...”

Before Mn could protest, Adam had positioned himself between his thighs, one hand guiding Mn's leg up and over his hip. The other hand, slick with lube, pressed insistently against Mn's rear entrance.

“Oh!”, Mn gasped, surprised by the sudden intrusion. But instead of pain, a wave of intense pleasure washed over him as Adam’s finger breached his tight hole.

“That's it, just relax”, Adam soothed, slowly working his finger deeper. “You're doing fantastic”

Mn moaned, his head falling back as he surrendered to the sensation. Adam finger curled inside him, stroking that magical spot that made stars explode behind his eyelids.

”Doctor”, Mn whimpered, his voice trembling with need, “please... I need..”

He didn't even know what he needed anymore, only that the ache within him demanded to be filled.

Adam must have understood, because suddenly he was removing his finger and replacing it with the thick head of his own cock.

Mn cried out as he felt that first delicious stretch, his body Adam the invasion. Adam pushed in inch by glorious inch until he was buried to the tip, filling Mn completely.

For a moment, they simply stayed like that, caught in the haze of pleasure. Then Adam began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside Mn before plunging back in with a deep, satisfying thrust.

“Yes, oh god yes”, Mn chanted, his hands fisting in the sheets as he met each powerful stroke.

The room echoed with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by their ragged breathing and muffled groans. Adam set a relentless pace, driving into Mn with precision and passion, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

Mn's world narrowed to the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed, so utterly owned by this handsome doctor. He'd never experienced anything like it, and the intensity threatened to consume him whole.

“Harder, please”, Mn begged, his voice hoarse with desire. “Fuck me harder!”

Adam obliged, picking up speed until the exam table shook beneath them. He leaned down to capture Mn's mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to tangle with Mn's.

The added stimulation sent Mn careening over the edge.

With a strangled cry, Mn came undone, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. His cock jerked, painting the sheets below with streaks of cum as wave after wave of bliss pulsed through him.

Through it all, Adam continued to pound into him, chasing his own release. “Fuck, you feel incredible”, he growled against Mn's lips, his thrusts growing erratic as he neared the edge.

With a final, brutal plunge, Adam buried himself to the inside and still Mn could feel every throbbing inch as he erupted inside him. The warmth of his seed flooding Mn's insides triggered another aftershock, leaving them both shaking and spent.

As the aftermath settled, Adam collapsed onto Mn, his weight a comforting pressure against him.

They lay there for a long moment, catching their breath and savoring the intimate silence. Finally, Adam lifted his head to gaze at Mn with a soft, satisfied smile.

“Well, that was certainly an unconventional examination”, he teased, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from Mn's forehead. “But I think we can safely say your physical is complete”

Lets say Mn became a regular at the clinic

©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit

[ddejavvu]

pairing: james potter x reader

summary: james is an expert at your nighttime routine. basically just that i was watching asmr in bed the other night and i was like man i wish james potter was holding my phone for me.

"Ready?" James's sweet, sleep-softened face stares up at you, kind brown eyes already fluttering with exhaustion. He makes the most of his days, and he always manages to tire himself out. You, however, need a little more persuasion more nights than not.

"Ready." You head for bed, taking your place beneath the covers and letting James assume his position curled around you. His head peeks over your shoulder, rampant curls brushing your face the way your lashes will soon brush your cheeks.

He reaches over you to take your phone off of your nightstand and into his hand. You let him angle it towards you to open it with your face ID, and he navigates easily to the ASMR page that you favor. There's new videos since the last time you'd checked, but James goes for a favorite of yours, and as the video begins, you tuck your arms into your chest, curling into as tight of a ball as possible. It means James is able to hug you even tighter to his chest, and the arm draped over your chest shifts, tilting the phone slightly as he settles behind you.

"That good, darling?" He whispers, his voice perhaps even more soothing than the sounds coming from your phone.

"'S great Jamie," You hum, letting the video lull you into sleep, feeling a tingly rush already building as you zone out on your phone screen, "Just- make it a little quieter."

James obediently presses the button to turn the volume down a notch, and you let out a contented sigh as the video plays out.

"Love you, darling." James croons, his voice still barely above a whisper as he presses a sticky kiss to the back of the shell of your ear. He nestles his nose into the back of your neck, and you tilt your head slightly when his arm involuntarily shifts, turning your phone screen as well.

"Love you too, James." You murmur, sleep already tugging at your eyelids as you let your senses hum with the asmr content James is displaying for you, "Thanks for holdin' my phone."

"'Course, love." His voice is rough with fatigue as he presses another sleepy kiss to your skin, this time to the flushed part of your neck where it meets the sloping of your shoulders. He'll drift off soon, and his fingers will lose the tension that's keeping your phone propped up. but he'll fight to stay awake until he feels your own body relax. "Always."

[keij0h]

⌗ COME RIGHT BACK ┆ jeonghan

After a tiring session of working, your boyfriend is more than willing to ease you down, in a very certain way.

CAUTION : profanities. smut warning. afab reader. oral f receiving. self indulgent.

tap to listen !

02:14

Your eyes threatened to shut as you glanced at the time, blowing a sigh before slumping deeper into your chair. The silence was sickening, along with the pile of paperwork placed shabbily on your table that hadn't been untouched since the last few hours.

A small thud sound echoed as you laid your head down the table surface, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Delays aren't really your thing, hence the desiring need to finish everything in one go. Though with your drowsy state, that seemed like the toughest thing to do, considering you put yourself in this whole loop anyway.

Though perhaps you were a bit too weary to even hear the door behind you creaking open. A shiver ran up your spine as you suddenly felt your shoulders being grabbed gently, making you perk up at the sudden warmth.

“Hannie?” you groggily called out, barely making out the familiar figure of your boyfriend behind you through half lidded eyes.

“Yeah, lovey?” he hummed with a vague smile, swiftly turning your swivel chair around to face him as he kneeled down, gently placing both his hands on your face to get a good look at your exhausted state.

He examined you with so much intent, his lashes subtly fluttering as he shifted from your eyes to your lips, leaning in to place a quick peck on them. “You can't sleep here, you'll hurt your back.”

A tired smile crept up your mouth, fighting the urge to yawn. “I have to finish this though. Just go to bed without me, I'll be done soon.”

“You know I can't sleep without you,” Jeonghan argued, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “Missed you.”

It wasn't all the time where you'd see him be this desperate, though you also kept in mind that he wasn't one to hold back with what he wanted. And besides, there was no way he was letting the love of his love spend the whole night slouched on the table.

“I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway,” you breathed out a chuckle, letting your fingers fondle around his hair as he littered soft kisses in your jaw.

“Then I'll give you company..” he mumbled through your neck, not missing the way his voice lowered deftly as you exhaled — a slight idea on where this could be going.

“Baby, I'm tired─”

“Which gives me enough reason to take care of you.” he interrupts, lifting his head to face you again, his hooded eyes showing that hint of lust as you nipped on your lip.

“Please, baby?” he pleaded softly, running a hand through your exposed thighs, his thumb playing with the fabric of your shorts. “You trust me, right?”

“With my whole life.” you added firmly, nodding in emphasization. The sides of Jeonghan’s mouth tugging into a smile, taking it as a clear answer to get started.

“Just relax, alright?” he mumbled while placing a kiss on your temple, gently pushing you back to let you lean further in your seat as he remained in his kneeling position. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You softly flinched as you felt his hand slightly lift your thigh, leaning down to place chaste kisses on the soft flesh as he reached up to pull down on your silk shorts until it reached the heel of your foot, letting it fall on the floor.

Your breath heaved in anticipation, watching as he busied himself between your legs, taking his delicate time on placing open-mouth kisses in your inner thighs, the heat on your core intensifying.

Your hand found its way on the top of his head, biting back a mewl as the pad of his fingers caressed your clothed; damp pussy, gently dragging in circles, making you squirm under his touch.

“Han..” you sigh out, an amused glint present in Jeonghan’s eyes as he swirled his fingers around, his free hand tugging down on the material of your panties, pulling it off in one go.

“Always so pretty for me.” he coos, taking in the sight of your glistening cunt. You sucked in a breath as you felt his thumb drag over your folds, tenderly spreading it with his ring and middle finger before leaning down to run his tongue right in the middle.

“Shit.” you whined, subconsciously grinding your hips up for more friction, Jeonghan’s grip getting firm to steady you as his tongue pushed a bit further in you. “Oh— fuck, yes..”

He hummed against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of a similar shaky sensation in you. You watched through half lidded eyes as he lapped you up. He looked so pretty. Your legs were over his shoulders while his eyes were closed, leaving his mouth agape and tongue out, the sloppy; wet sounds adding more to the lasciviousness of the sight.

“S-so good.” you managed to stutter out, his wet muscle flicking against your clit, forcefully pushing his head down, your lewd juices now starting to drip down to his chin. “More, baby, please..”

All the tense agony you had earlier had now seemingly disappeared, now replaced with a feeling of bliss as all you could muster are soft moans and whines of his name.

“I.. y-you’re gonna─”

“Mhm? ‘m gonna make you cum?” he panted, rubbing his fingers rapidly over your bundle of nerves as you cried out, his hot breath making you perk up. “Right on my face, lovey.”

“Oh, god—”

Your eyes rolled back in delight, simultaneously pulling on the strands of Jeonghan’s hair, earning a groan from him. “Just like that.. ah, fuck.”

You could barely hear the small babbles you gave, finding it hard to even open your eyes as his tongue did wonders, making you feel so full despite clenching at nothing. He indeed kept his word, he’d make you feel so good.

“Han— shit, ‘m so close.” you practically begged, almost suffocating him between your thighs as you got closer and closer to your release.

Another hum emitted from him, that being your last straw as he picked up the pace of his tongue, shuddering as you moaned out, the knot on your stomach faltering while you released right on his mouth. With the amount of pleasure, you barely noticed Jeonghan lapping everything up, leaving nothing but the glistening sight of your swollen clit.

“God, I love you..” you breathlessly say, almost incoherently as you throw your head back, earning a soft chuckle from Jeonghan. He stood up from his kneeling position, wiping the excess liquids on his chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you, wasting no time in pressing a deep kiss over your lips.

It was all the truth though. You love him, and this whole image taking place was a great explanation on why. He can be a little shit at times, but honestly, he’d do everything for the sake of your pleasure. And you were in no place to complain.

“Baby,” you pull away, laughing. “I can literally taste myself.”

Meanwhile, a smirk went up to his face, not missing the way he bit his bottom lip — that was still a bit swollen from all the meddling he did.

“Uhuh?” he hummed, kissing the corner of your lips. “Heavenly, right?”

a/n : I’m feeling major homesickness rn so I just needed the excuse to write the comfort I need as of now 👊🏻 hope this does the same to whoever’s reading. <3

and apparently, I’ve reached 1k+ likes?? that’s insane and thank you thank you thank YOUUU to everyone who helped me gain that. 😽

[flwrstqr]

enhypen maknae line reaction when you start distancing thempairings: cold bf!enhypen x fem!reader | genre: fluff, ot7 work, imagines, angst ish| wc: 300+ | warnings: not proofread | an: you guys were in love with the hung line ver so here is the maknae line >3< | LIBRARY FOR MORE... (hyung line..)

김선우 (ksn)

as you tried to cuddle up to sunoo, he shifted away, his expression growing colder by the second. "what's wrong?" you asked, sensing his distance. "can't you give me some space?" he snapped, his tone sharper than usual. You stepped back, hurt evident in your eyes. "i just wanted to be close to you." "well, I don't always want that," he grumbled, turning his attention back to his phone. feling ignored and rejected, you decided to keep your distance and avoid him for the rest of the evening. the next day, sunoo approached you hesitantly, "I'm sorry about yesterday," he murmured, avoiding your gaze. "I didn't mean to push you away like that. I just… I guess I was in a bad mood." you softened at his apology, realizing that perhaps he wasn't as cold-hearted as he seemed. "It's okay," you replied gently, reaching out to hold his hand.

(rest of the members below!!)

양정원 (yjw)

as you stood in the dimly lit living room, jungwon and you argued. his words cut through the air as he accused you of being clingy during an argument. hurt flashed across your face before tears welled up, blurring your vision. without a word, you stepped out, to calm yourself down. minutes felt like hours as you lay on your bed. just as you were about to cry again, jungwon walks through the door. "i'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "i didn't mean what I said. I was angry, and I lashed out." with a shaky breath, you nodded, unable to form words through the lump in your throat. "I promise to be more mindful of my words," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

西村力 (nsr)

as you enter the room, you could already feel riki's usual coldness. "hey," you greet softly. "what?" his response sharp and quiet. you take a step back, feeling the chill in the air. maybe you were being too clingy. days pass, you felt more and more apart from riki. before, he wished you would go away but now..he more missed your presence. one day, he reaches out. "can we talk?" he asks. you nod cautiously, heart fluttering with hope. "I miss us," he admits, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. "I miss how close we used to be. I'm sorry for pushing you away. with a small smile, you reach out to take his hand, forgiving him for his actions.

[literarydumpinggrounds]

Minors DNI 🔞 Anyone in the mood for kinda Switchy!Tenya with a side of worship?

Thinking about the monster you’d create once you’ve unlocked the door to Tenya’s dirty mind, allowing him to let loose and experiment explore to his heart’s desire once you were officially together.

How he would find any reason to hide away together, claiming it was too close to curfew to be with friends just so you’d be left in the privacy of your rooms.

How possessive he would become, even if it was albeit respectfully.

How he would suddenly make sure to have a hand on you somehow. A hand against your back, slotted together with your hand, on your knee under the table at dinner.. it was always there. Something so affectionate, something innocent at first glance.

But you would know.

That cascading tendril of darkness— that insatiable urge —shimmering juuust below the surface tension of those oceanic irises would give him away every time.

“My Darling~

“My Goddess~

“My Vision~

How was it possible for one man to be everywhere at the same time?

His voice filling your mind just as full as your ears.. the toughened pads of his work worn hands all over you.

His mouth.

All hot breath, and swarming wanton kisses..

Your legs were thrown over broad shoulders, that muscular body flipped on his stomach as he laid across the bed. Sweat drenched hair falling onto his face in feathered, azure locks that tickled his lashes when he buried his tongue at the apex of your trembling thighs — devouring you with the passionate ferocity of a man starved.

“This body..” he rumbled, panting into you in desperation, nearly whining as his tongue dipped in and out to annunciate his ramblings.

“This pentacle of seduction, my beloved, is the pinnacle of my entire existence. Everything that I do until my last breath is all for this..” his intense gaze followed the trail of his hands, firm fingers slightly dimpling your supple flesh as they glide up your body.

He always handled you as if you were a priceless heirloom, with utmost care.

Adoration, perhaps..

Worship.

A guttural moan of satisfaction spilled from deep within his chest as your weeping hole fluttered around his fingers, beckoning him further inside its deliciously hot, sticky grip. If he kept this pace, kept running that mouth, you would be unraveling beneath him again for the umpteenth time that evening.. but you just couldn’t seem to stop him.

Not when he looked so hungry content.

“All for you~ ”

The writhing of his hips against the mattress jostled you on his face, sending a crackling of heat ripping through your belly, and straight to your pussy at the sensations and debauched mingling of sounds that were filling the room.

“Ohh~ I-..” he grunted, struggling to push past the pleasure fogging his mind at his approaching release. “I want it so.. uh~ so badly.”

Thick fingers crooked to massage that electric spot within you, mouth drooling and tongue lapping as that familiar fire inside was burning hotter.. “Pl- ease.. oh~ please!”

And hotter..

“F-Fall apart for me, _____ ..” the timber of his voice rattled the words in his chest like a growling, thinly contained beast. “Fall apart in my arms, treasure~ I’ll hold you together.”

Until the flames swallowed you whole.

“Now. Right fucking now.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 

Your own family had never been so generous. 

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 

Relentlessly. 

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion. 

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 

You’d be found out in no time. 

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 

Can and not do. 

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?” 

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 

There was no running from this. 

“Okay,” you whisper.

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[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part

2 of 6)

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

3333 words

Warnings contain spoilers: blood, domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, kissing, mentions of female masturbation, ownership (you’re mine), general violence.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨Rafe clears his throat, changing slightly in his seat, the smoothness of his approach shifting as you adjust your glasses. He looks at you, trying his best to control his anger and questioning for your benefit, but he just can’t. “Did uh… Did you have those last night?” He asks weakly, well aware of the answer. His eyes narrow in concern, his softness quickly stripped. Your jaw tightens, lashes fluttering to hold back the tears that hadn’t disappeared. You shake your head ‘no’.✨

Sexual content in pink if you want to avoid that

Readers POV:

“Tony-”

Lights out.

That’s all I remember. The first blow of his fist to my cheek was enough to knock me out cold.

Your eyes flutter open, a burning ache claiming you immediately as you match your stare in the rearview mirror. Pain radiates from your nose. Your lip a mess with two rivers of thick blood lined to your chin. The car is empty, Tony nowhere to be found, leaving you alone in his dark garage.

Reaching over, you grab the door handle, crying out in pain, pulling your hand to your ribs. You slam your eyes shut, fear setting in as you get a taste of just how evil Tony can be. Lucky for you, he had the decency to knock you out before delivering the rest of his beating, sparing you the initial pain. I could leave. I could leave tonight, steal his car, and drive away.

But then, how will I meet him?

You shut your eyes, replaying the moment you locked eyes with him. Blue… Beautifully blue - thatcerulean stare captured yours, and for a few moments, you felt free. What was he booked for? Why was he sent to jail in the first place?

Your heart races, teeth gritted as you step out of the car, trying to push through the pain. You walk down a long line of vintage and luxury cars; the Maybach was nothing… This asshole has cars to spare.

An open spot… Vlad. Is Tony gone? You look out a small window on the garage door, the sunrise, a wash of pink and oranges, bleeds through the sky. I was in jail for 8 hours before he got me… He always takes an early flight. Hopefully, he left already. You step carefully, trying your best not to make a sound. Tony fights dirty; there’s no way you could let your guard down until you know for sure. He could be waiting for me inside.

Your heels click against the marble floor, head on a swivel as you watch for him. It’s eerie… The kitchen was a mess when you left, dirtied from your anniversary dinner, now spotless. The empty wine bottle on the counter is exchanged for a large vase of lilies and red roses.

There’s no way these are for me.

Tears roll down your cheeks, burning as they catch the gash in your cheek, making you hiss in pain, the movement reopening the wounds on your lip, pooling fresh blood in your mouth. Your scream fills the house, a piercing cry resonating through the wings. It’s not enough. You grab the vase, sobbing as you hurl it to the floor, watching the glass shatter into a million pieces.

Water and roses spread along the marble floor as you walk away, crushing the glass under your Louis Vuitton heels. You step toward the bedroom, kicking off your shoes, tearing down the zipper, letting the satin material fall to the floor. Maybe it was cheating, perhaps it was the beating, or was it the gaslighting bullshit? Whatever the hell it was, you were seconds away from saying fuck it entirely.

Water falls from the shower head, sending steam swirling all around. The gasps and hiccups of your tears get swallowed up in the noise of the shower as you draw back the glass, stepping inside. You let out a pathetic whimper as the water pelts your skin, every nerve on fire, hot water running through your wounds. It flows down your body, circling the drain in a watercolor mess of crimson, turning pink, then clear as the blood starts to wash away. The pain dissipates, numbness taking its place.

Maybe I want to be alone. Why am I even thinking about anyone else? What if he doesn’t want me? What if he has someone else? What if he’s treating them just like Tony treats me? You grab the handle, turning off the water. Chills spread across your body as you climb out of the tub, stepping onto the cool floor before returning to the bedroom.

Your stomach sinks as you hear your phone trill. Tony… I don’t even want to listen to his voice. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I know what I saw. I can feel what he did to me. I need more time to think about my next steps. I don’t need him getting in my way or my head. You walk over to the bed, pulling your phone out of your purse. Kildare County Prison. What now? What could they possibly want? Clicking the button, you accept the call, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳

“I’m here for visitation hours,” you announce softly.

The officer nods, standing up from his desk, walking around to the massive metal door. The alarm buzzes, hardware clanking as he opens the entry, letting you back into jail. You wander into the room, empty and clinical, with five seats and five small windows vacant on the other side. You take a chair, feeling your anxiety rise. Even though you were a mess of makeup and tears last night, your beautiful dress hanging torn on your frame, at least you weren’t beaten.

You tighten the scarf around your head, adjusting your eyeglasses to cover your bruises. Not even a pound of makeup could mask this mess. Tony did a number on you; no amount of foundation could hide that. You hear a muffled buzz from the other side of the glass. The door opens; prisoners walk out, tired and weary. Your heart skips, warming instantly as you meet the same baby blues from the night before, a breath of fresh air hitting you as you see his smile.

He’s changed since his disheveled shirt, exchanged for a uniform provided by the state. The man somehow makes it look good, his white t-shirt pulled taut across his broad chest. His hair is brushed back, not sweaty and tousled like before, giving you the perfect view of his gorgeous face. “Hi,” he mouths before sitting down, grabbing the phone off the hook. You follow suit, doing the same. The soft breathing you heard over the receiver the evening prior comes through a little louder, matching the movements of his chest.

You can feel your heart beating faster, just as excited as you were when he made his request. ‘Come to the prison tomorrow at 11 for visitor hours. I want to meet you’. You smile brightly, dampening your joy moments later as you remember just where you are. This is not a coffee shop. This is not some cute first date at the Island Club. This is prison… Then you’re hit with another blow. What if Tony found out? What if he has eyes inside? You reach for a breath, feeling panic set in, so excited at the thought of meeting him in person that you didn’t even think about the very real risk. Heat burns behind your eyes, tears glossing your vision. A lump forms in your throat, even the simple act of breathing, harder than before.

“Are you okay, princess,” he asks gently. You match his gaze, making the mistake of looking at him over the rim of your sunglasses as tears pool in your eyes.

“I’m okay,” you answer shakily.

“Are you - Fuck… Are you sure?” He asks as he goes to stand, quickly remembering the glass that separates the two of you when he tries to get a better look.

“Positive.”

“I don’t know-”

“Positive,” you stop him. He drops his head and nods, not wanting to upset you, doing his best to push past it. His brows pinch together, not believing the lies you’re selling him. “Y/n. Yeah? I hope it’s okay that I asked you here…”

“Mhmm…” You smile narrowly. “I was hoping I’d get to meet you.”

“Is that so?” He asks in a low tone, sending butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“Yeah…” You give him a small nod, stifling your grin again. “How did you know my number?”

He takes a deep breath, relaxing in his chair, crossing one arm over his chest, tilting his head slightly to let his cheek press into the phone. “Well, I paid $500 for a name and $2,000 for your number, another 10k so you and I could talk freely. Well, as long as it’s legal, of course.”

“Seriously?” You ask. “That’s too much…”

“Nah. It’s not. Drop the bucket… I can tell you are worth far, far more than that, doll. Priceless.” You giggle and smile, your happiness making the corners of his lips pull even wider. The most perfect smile I’ve ever seen. “That laugh, princess,” he hums, his voice like honey, as he lives in each word. “I could listen to that all day if you’d let me.”

Princess… The same pet name used by Tony in his letter, so demeaning after what he did to me, was reclaimed by this man instantly. Again, I’m lost in the moment with him, nestled in the sanctuary of my mind. What I wouldn’t do to sit next to him; smell his cologne, feel his knee brush softly against mine as he smiles down at me. I could feel the warmth of the words leaving his lips, not just hear them through the phone.

“You’re lovely,” you coo bashfully, feeling heat creep across your bruised cheeks.

Rafe clears his throat, changing slightly in his seat, the smoothness of his approach shifting as you adjust your glasses. He looks at you, trying his best to control his anger and questioning for your benefit, but he just can’t. “Did uh… Did you have those last night?” He asks weakly, well aware of the answer. His eyes narrow in concern, his softness quickly stripped. Your jaw tightens, lashes fluttering to hold back the tears that hadn’t disappeared. You shake your head ‘no’. The words that left your mouth struck him like a knife to the heart; a few shallow breaths in his broad chest was all he could muster.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?” He asks as his voice cracks with anger and emotion. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that - ‘You’ll be fine’,” he huffs. “You need to know, I know what you’re dealin’ with, and you’re far from it.” Your nostrils flare, muscles tense as you try to keep your tears from spilling over. “When I get out of here. I’m gonna take care of that for you. And, if I’m lucky, I’d like to take care of you too,” he pledges. You can tell he means every word.

“You - You don’t even know me. I don’t even know your name-”

“Rafe,” he cuts you short, the corners of his lips quivering in a slight smile he’s putting on just to ease your worry. The sheer thought of what happened to you the night prior evidently shocking him to his core. “Cameron,” he rasps out his last name, clearing his throat as he tries to gain his composure.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rafe Cameron.” His name leaves your lips, making you smile again.

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, but can I see your eyes?” He asks sweetly. You nod, pulling the glasses off your face, before meeting his watch. “There she is,” he whispers. “You’re stunning. You know?”

“Thank you.”

“No, sweetheart. Thank you. And, it’s nice to meet you too.” You’re put at ease in his presence. Rafe seems to be the type of man who is rough for everyone and soft for you. The kind to commit heinous crimes, but don’t you dare fuck with what’s mine. He’d never do this to me… “So, we have about 10 minutes. It’s not enough time. I’m going to call you. Yeah?”

“Of course,” you answer quickly, scooting a little closer toward the glass, making him bite his lip at your excitement.

“I’m getting out of here in a week. Can you come and see me tomorrow?” He asks hopefully.

“Of course, Rafe.”

“N’he comes home in seven days-“ Rafe starts, catching you off guard as he spouts details you didn’t even know. Your confusion must be painted all over your face because he quickly assures you. “I know people. I know he’s in Monterrey; I know he’s into some pretty serious shit. So am I.”

“You are?” You ask shakily, bottom lip quivering with adrenaline. Tony never told you anything; everything was a mystery with him, dismissed and cloaked in a vain compliment to get you off his back. ‘You’re too pretty to worry about this, baby. Shh… all you gotta do is look pretty and spend Daddy’s money’. This is the most truth I’ve gotten about his dealings than I have in our entire relationship.

“I don’t like keepin’ secrets. I have a feelin’ you’re used to that shit. Not with me. Okay?”

“Okay…” you nod dutifully, nervously tapping your nails on the cool metal counter. “Well, in that case, why are you here?”

Rafe sucks his teeth and clears his throat, looking side to side, checking on the inmates sharing space with him. “Murder. Allegedly.” The blood drains from your face, your eyes widen like saucers. Murder? “I didn’t do it - I didn’t shoot that guy. I don’t even know him. I never met him a day in my life, but I gotta whole lotta enemies.”

“I suppose,” you whisper shakily.

“It wasn’t me…” There’s more that he wants to say. It’s right on the tip of his tongue. ‘It wasn’t me… this time.’ A change of scenery, and he’d probably tell you everything. “You gotta believe me. I promise-”

“I do,” you stop him, making his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “I believe you, Rafe.”

He looks back at you and smiles. “Good girl.” Your heart bangs in your chest, pulse thumping in your ears. “M’sorry our first conversation’s so hard. I didn’t want it to be like this… I wanna get this out of the way and put it to bed, ‘course I gotta handle business, but I’ll do the dirty work. You don’t need any more stress. After today, I don’t wanna speak about him anymore. Just you. You are the only thing I wanna talk about, princess,” he smiles, tapping gently on the glass. You rest your hand on it. Rafe does the same, pressing his large palm to match.

The thought of a physical connection makes your head spin, the pair of you looking at each other starry-eyed. “Can I count on you to pick me up when I get out?” He asks, anxiously like you’d say anything but ‘yes.’ You nod, unsure of the timeline or how you could escape when Tony returns. “His flight doesn’t get in until 4:30. N’Tony’s got a meetin’ with a new buyer-” Rafe gives you a little nod - he’s the buyer.

“Rafe-”

He shakes his head ‘no’, stopping you before you can start. “I’m not scared of him, baby. We need to come to an understanding, him and I. He needs to understand that his actions have consequences. He needs to understand you’re mine.”

His?

I’m Rafe’s.

You stare at him like a dear in the headlights yet again, stunned silent by his words. “Do you want that, princess?” He asks as he looks back at you.

“I do.”

Rafe shakes his head and smiles, slightly confused like he can’t believe what you’re saying. “I gotta week to make a plan. I have to get to him. You think you could help me with that?” Your stomach turns as you replay Rafe’s first lie. His mouth said ‘conversation’ but his eyes said ‘execution’. A conversation is not just a conversation. I’m not stupid. “You gotta act normal when you’re around him, princess. Business as usual. Do you think you can do that f’me?” You nod in agreement. “You’re going to do so good, baby. You’re brave. All right? You’re here. Aren’t you? You’re not afraid to take a risk. I mean, you’ve been here, after all,” he adds as he swirls his finger, gesturing to his confinement. “What did a sweet thing like you do to end up in here anyway?” He questions, cocking his head slightly as he fights back a smirk.

“I uhh…” You giggle breathily, still uneasy about what you can and can’t share, attempting to feed Rafe just enough to answer his question, not enough to incriminate yourself any further. “I trashed his truck.”

”The Maybach?” Rafe asks with a lifted brow; the smirk pulling wider as he tilts his body into the glass, his strong forearms resting on the countertop. You give him a nod ‘yes’. “That’s a two hundred thousand dollar ride, sunshine. Uhh, with what?” He asks as he scratches at his 5’o’clock shadow, a fire burning in his eyes, taking pleasure in your little stunt.

“A bat.”

“A bat. Huh? Well, fuck doll, You’ll be just fine.”

Your shoulders fall as your body relaxes a little more. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I will be alright. Maybe I can pull this off. “Okay,” you answer, starting to believe the words he’s saying yourself.

“After I hash out everything with Tony, I’m gonna take you out for a drink, and we’ll celebrate all night.”

You smile bashfully, his proposal clouding your brain; thoughts drifting away as he baits you with his proposition. He’s not saying a lot, but saying so much at the same time. ‘All night’… Drinks, celebration; sex… Freedom? Maybe, if everything goes his way, which I have a feeling it usually does.

“Words, angel,” Rafe hums, pulling you out of your haze.

You smile back at him, hungry-eyed, finding yourself impatient for the time to come already. “All night…”

Rafe licks his lips, savoring what little he can see of you. You can only imagine what he’s thinking, looks alone telling you that he’s picture a million and one ways he can make you scream his name. “Beautiful.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳

It had been a week… A week of getting to know him. A week of Rafe Cameron. Praise. Promises. The possibility of what a life could look like with him. Of course, there’s a chance it could all go to shit. What would I do then? What would I do if Tony did something to Rafe?

I guess Tony’s something I’ll have to take care of if that time comes. But what if he takes my life? I guess either way I’ll be free.

Your week went like clockwork: visitation at nine, a phone call every night at four. Rafe’s voice filled your ears, saving you from your dark thoughts, filling you with light. As he promised, there was no talk of Tony; the two of you more focused on getting acquainted with each other to worry about much more.

When 4 pm struck you pulled out your phone, waiting impatiently for Rafe’s call. It rang a moment later, making you scramble for the accept button. The rug was pulled out from underneath you after your sweet ‘hey, baby,’ and Tony’s ‘hello, darling’. His voice on the other end of the line was gut-wrenching leaving you to maintain that same bliss reserved for Rafe.

It taught you one thing, though… you were a much better liar than you imagined, acting like the steadfast, naive girlfriend you’ve played so many times before when you fed into the bullshit. ‘Are you having fun in Mexico, baby? Did you get to go to the beach, handsome? I can’t wait for you to come home, daddy. I miss you.’ And, he ate it all up, more than usual even. The guilt of his little “lesson” still weighing heavily on his icy heart, apparent in every whispered ‘I love you’ and “You know you’re my girl. Right?’

Wrong.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳

You lean slightly outside your Magnum XE, waiting for Rafe. Catching the mirror, you check your makeup; almost all of the harm caused by Tony is covered up or faded away. You’re restless, drumming your hands on the leather steering wheel while waiting for him. You leave the car, walking around the front, adjusting your pink fur coat before sitting pretty on the hood. I wanna look good for him.

Last night was just a taste. You bite your lip, thinking about your phone conversation with Rafe. It was the first exchange that was more than just sweet and assuring, turning risky fast. It started with Rafe asking what you were wearing, ending with you, a panting mess in his ear as he talked you through it all. You soaked your fingers just like he asked as he set the pace, telling you what to do and when, praising you for doing such an good job for him. He promised he’d take care of you… And he did.

Fuck, I can’t wait to thank him myself.

You watch the door swing open, that very same door you walked out of just days before, but unlike you, Rafe is all smiles. That smile… He slings his bag over his shoulder, shooting you a wink that has you giggling like a schoolgirl.

Your heart patters as he steps closer, moving with a purpose. He takes you into his arms, stealing your breath as his lips lock with yours in a deep, passionate kiss. Rafe’s hand wraps around the back of your neck, the other bound around your waist, needing you closer. You live in the moment, memorizing the shape of his body in yours. The smell of his cologne lingers lightly on the shirt he had on when he stumbled into his cell that night, the scent of it somehow already so familiar. You grab onto his button-down, tugging him in, causing him to smile against your lips.

“Hi, princess.”

Part 3

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[impala-dreamer]

Who We're Pretending To Be

A Story from the YOU Universe

~Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.~

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) x F!Reader

5,019 Words

Warnings: NSFW.

A/N: If you've not seen the Netflix show YOU, this may not be your thing. Still a great story, but it helps to know the show. Also, if you've not seen the show, I suggest you get right on that because it is AMAZING.

Set between Seasons 3 & 4. Slight spoilers for s4, but not really. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The classroom seems cold today, like there’s something missing. It’s distracting. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s off, but there’s a charge in the air like something’s about to happen; as if lightning could strike at any second.

I don’t mean proverbial lightning, as none of my students seem to have grasped any of the contextual undertones of the book we’re discussing, but actual, live lightning. If I opened the windows behind my desk just a crack, a bolt would sneak through and bury itself in the base of my skull. Maybe that’s what I need- a jolt of electricity, something to break me out of this fog that crept up around me and climbs forever higher threatening to suffocate me.

I think I’d take the lightning to the skull over suffocation, but we don’t always get what we want.

I’m perched on the edge of the desk when the door opens and Y/N comes rushing in.

Suddenly, all of my attention is on her.

She’s never late. Never rushing, always at least ten minutes early for every appointment, every class. She seems- off today, as well. Perhaps she can feel the imminent lightning strike as well. Wouldn’t that be funny? I find a kindred amongst these idiot grad students who can’t even seem to end this horrid debate.

“I am so sorry, Professor Moore.”

Y/N’s voice cracks a bit, which in itself isn’t very unusual. She’s one of the quieter students I’ve encountered, and the only American in my current circle of acquaintances. Her accent is faint, as if she’s attempting to hide it from her schoolmates. She’s been here a while, I can infer; sprinkling in local slang and adding letters to words where back home there would be none. She’s trying hard to fit in, but why? Why not be herself?

“I got held up by-”

I hold up my hand and smile softly. “It’s fine, Y/N. Please take a seat and try to catch up.”

For fuck’s sake, she’s only twenty minutes late, but it looks like every second has weighed her down like lead.

The others pick up their debate and I sit back a bit, cross my arms, pretend to listen. This teaching thing isn’t as hard as everyone makes it out to be. Occasionally, I toss out an idea and let them run with it. Sometimes, I pay attention, mostly I don’t. Mostly I’m thinking of You. Of how beautiful You looked at that art show, of how You gasped when you saw me like You couldn’t decide if You wanted to run to me or away.

From the corner of my eye, I see Y/N timidly raise her hand and You are temporarily pushed aside. She keeps her hand up but close to her chest, as if the very act of asking to speak is somehow terrifying.

How can someone so brave be so terrified to do something as common as speak in class? She’s clearly not a scared person by nature- she moved across an ocean to attend university when she could have gone for free back home to whatever state college she decided to attend. I’ve peeked at her transcripts- she’s smart. Not win a genius grant or a full ride smart, but smart. Why is she so nervous?

I smile and a bit of her nerves seem to quell. Her shoulders relax an inch and she smiles back.

“You know you don’t have to raise your hand, Y/N,” I tell her, laughing gently to put her at ease.

She dips her chin and then looks up with the most beautiful gaze I have ever seen. Her lashes flutter upwards in slow motion, the darkness of her pupils expand, pushing nearly every fleck of color away except the gemlike glow cast by the stained glass window over my head. She smiles and her lips shine like glass. Soft, pink, beautiful glass. I can’t look away and yet I absolutely have to. Thankfully, she speaks and I can act like I’m moving away to sit in my chair and not to get away from her.

“Sorry,” she says, sweet voice sweeping over the room. “I just didn’t want to jump in because I was late but-”

“But you have something to add,” I finish for her.

Her eyes float back to me and the atmosphere shifts. The foreboding of a lighting strike vanishes and the room seems to warm up. Quickly, I sit and scoot the chair close to the desk, set my elbows on the top, clasp my hands near my lips. I can’t stop staring at her.

She nods. “Yes. If that’s alright.”

There it is again, the tiniest speck of British on her tongue. How long has she been living here, and why? It can’t just be for school. She’s too interesting for that. She dresses to blend in; muted colors and clean jeans, her hair always swept back, face free of plastering makeup or too much color. There’s only ever that pink gloss and a gentle brush of mascara. It’s as if she doesn't know how beautiful she is, or perhaps, she doesn’t care.

Or was she one of those kids who never really got any attention until they blossomed but by then it was too late to fit into their personality?

She chews her lip nervously and shyly looks away from me.

No, she knows. She knows how beautiful she is, she just isn’t one to flaunt it; doesn’t need the attention. Or is that how she draws them in?

She’s already talking, but I can’t hear a thing she’s saying. I can hear her voice, that honey like glaze she adds to things when she’s speaking passionately, but the actual words, the meaning- I can’t follow a damned thing. I’m too busy trying to figure her out.

You flash through my mind for a moment; a sweet memory of a smile in the library when You didn’t think I was looking.

What is it about a smile that says so much without words? Does it show who we really are or who we’re pretending to be?

“I just think that love shouldn’t be so easily condemned.”

Y/N’s comment breaks through my thoughts of You and I clear my throat, straighten up in my chair, focus.

Across the room, Nadia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with Y/N’s interpretation. “This isn’t love, it’s obsession. The two can’t and shouldn’t be intertwined.”

Y/N bites her bottom lip and shakes her head.

What does that lip gloss taste like? Berries, perhaps… No. Stop it. Focus.

“I disagree.” Y/N sits forward and tucks her hands below the table. “Love is obsession. Obsession is love. It’s not a tautology, no, but you can have one with the other. If you’re not even a little obsessed with the person you love, is it really love at all?”

My mind is zinging, my ears ringing. Does she truly believe that, or is it all for the sake of debating Nadia? They’ve been at war most of the semester, but this seems truthful, deep.

The bell rings before I can recenter and add anything. I give my head a little shake and stand up, the chair rolling back behind me.

“Class dismissed. Great job today. Lively, wonderful discourse.” I fake a smile at the rest and then settle on Y/N.

She’s taking her time, hanging back as she gathers her things. She stuffs a notebook into her bag and the pen she’s been using rolls away from her.

“Crap.” She lunges across the table for it, but it’s too close to the edge, too far from her reach.

I drop down at the last second and save it from a dusty fate of rolling across the floor. “Gotcha.”

She’s staring when I stand up. Our eyes meet and she doesn’t shy away, but looks even deeper somehow. A smile lifts her cheeks and my pulse quickens.

No.

She holds out her hand and there’s a fleeting second when I want to trace my fingers across her palm, feel how soft and warm she is, but no. I toss her the pen and turn, trying to get her out of my head.

I have more important things to do than become a tired cliche. Some professor falling for a student. It’s an outrageous thought, and besides, I don’t need Y/N, I have You.

I hear the zipper close and a chair being pushed in. She’s leaving.

She lingers in the door and turns back to me with a sweet smile. “Have a good weekend, Professor.”

Her tone is so genuine, so kind that it nearly knocks me backwards. I can’t remember the last time anyone has truly wished me a good time. It’s such an overused pleasantry, so common and boring, but not when she says it. Not when she smiles at me like that, with her eyes still and focused on me.

The warmth spreading through me is real as well and I can’t seem to push it away. “Thank you,” I managed, barely able to stand let alone return the sentiment. “You too.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly but it feels like forever. Two more classes, two more groups of students droning on about what the author really meant, when none of them, not a single one seems to be able to read between the fucking lines. None of them can step back and see the whole picture, capture the meaning as a universe unto itself and not just a line in black and white on an otherwise blank page.

Y/N could read between the lines. Y/N would understand the sum of it all. She would get it.

Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

On my walk home, I think about You. Wondering what You’re up to, where You are tonight. The sun is setting, dragging the sky down into a deep pink and I wonder if You are seeing the same colors where You are. Someday, we’ll sit together on an island in the Pacific and see what that sunset looks like. Would You paint it for me, I wonder…

Y/N crosses my mind for a moment as I gaze at the light reflecting off a window as I pass. Would the sunset hit her shining lip gloss in the same way? Would the pink deepen with the sky? Would she smile if she caught me staring, back away if I leaned in to drag my thumb across her juicy, pink bottom lip?

No.

Darkness has settled and I haven’t moved to turn on a lamp. I’m stuck, glued to my sofa, my hands nailed to my thighs. I keep my eyes open for fear of seeing her face, but bouncing around the room looking for a distraction is only giving me a headache. I need to get out. I need something to do. I need-

A knock at the door.

Who would be knocking at my door at nearly ten o’clock at night?

Curiosity pulls me off of the couch and I switch on the lights as I head to the door. The peephole is clouded as fuck, but I can see her outline. My stomach tightens, my shoulders tense.

What is she doing here?

Her hand raises to knock again, but I unlatch the door before her knuckles hand. I find her dangling in the air, her startled face the most appealing thing I’ve seen in ages. Her eyes go wide, her jaw drops just enough to give me a peek at her tongue. Quickly, she rights herself and shies her gaze away. She chews her lip and I notice the pink gloss is gone, replaced by a deeper red.

Everything about her is different tonight. Her hair is down and fresh, her eyes are lined in black and the color blended above brings out the prisms in her eyes. Her clothes are strange as well: a short skirt, tall boots, a blouse that’s too tight to hide anything. There’s a gold string around her throat, something old, a gift perhaps from a dead relative, or a chance find at an antique shop. She would like diving through boxes of discarded wares looking for treasures, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe I’m just distracted by her appearance. Maybe I should stop trying to pick her apart and send her far, far away.

I’m not that man anymore. I’ve changed. I’m good. I have to be good for You.

It’s been too long since either of us has said anything and the fact of it is hanging in the air between us like some kind of glowing, awkward sign.

Thankfully, she speaks.

“Um… Hi.”

It isn’t much, but it breaks the painful silence.

I smile, confused but curious. My ultimate downfall.

“Y/N. What are you doing here?”

I should say something about it being inappropriate, something about contacting me only during office hours, but she knows. That’s not why she’s here. I can see it in her eyes.

Her hands are tucked behind her back, I notice. She’s holding something, not just shoving her tits in my face, although, I can’t say that I mind. She sees that I’m looking and turns to the side a bit to hide it more.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming herself, steeling her nerves. Why is she so nervous? What secret is she hiding? What plan has been brewing all day in her head?

That’s it, isn’t it? She was late this morning, distracted and timid because she was planning to come here.

I should be flattered, but I’m too intrigued by her boldness as she slides past me into my flat.

“I know this is highly inappropriate,” she says, the confession like a song on her lips. “But… I… Well…”

Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way while she searches for the right words. It’s endearing and makes me want to sit for hours and listen to her talk, discover exactly who she is and why.

I’m still standing in the open doorway, I realize, so I move aside and let it close. My back presses into the door and I hold my tongue, letting her get to the point.

She’s struggling, dancing around it in her head.

I want to crack open her skull and watch the thoughts spark through the gray matter like shooting stars.

“If you’re worried you’ll get in trouble,” I say, trying to get things moving, “you won’t. I’m just wondering why you’re here and how it is that you know where I live.”

She laughs and digs her tooth into the corner of her lip. “I’m not… stalking you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

“Nothing that nefarious,” she goes on. “But I did do something bad.”

The nerves seem to fall away from her the more she speaks and her demeanor changes. Her voice deepens ever so slightly and her hip pops to the side as she looks me over. Is she… flirting with me?

“I doubt you’ve done anything newsworthy, Miss Y/L/N…”

She takes a step forward and her lips pucker gently.

She is flirting with me.

“I hope not,” she says with a little laugh. “You see, I work part time in the admin office…”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know a lot about her. So many things to uncover, so many artifacts to dust off and examine.

“OK…” I push off from the door and take a step towards her. She counters, stepping backwards, guiding me to follow.

“And, well, I accidentally was looking at your files and-”

“Accidentally?”

She presses her tongue between her front teeth and smiles, eyes falling across my face. “Accidentally on purpose,” she clarifies. “I was… curious.”

“About me?”

Another step closer but she doesn’t move this time, letting me close the space between us by a few forbidden inches.

She sighs sweetly. “A little, yes.”

I dip my chin and look up, lifting my brows in question. She pulls in a quick breath, clearly enjoying the look I’ve given her.

“OK, maybe a little more than a little.”

One more step and I’m closer than I’ve ever really been to her, except just now when she invited herself in. I take a breath and she smells warm like vanilla, sweet like honey. The fantasy of berries on her lips falls away and I suddenly want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and do nothing but breathe in her scent, feel it invade my senses, infect my bloodstream.

Her chest heaves with a heavy breath and her eyes grow a little darker. She wants me.

“Maybe a lot curious,” she whispers, lifting her chin and blinking slowly.

Is she daring me to kiss her? Can she feel the lightning between us? Dare I?

No. She’s a student. She’s off limits. She’s not… You.

She must notice my hesitation and steps back a pace. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I saw that it was your birthday today.”

It’s not my birthday. Not my real birthday, anyway, just the one on the fake passport with the fake name and real photo.

I smile because I have to. “It is.”

Whatever she’s hiding behind her back shifts between her hands. “And, well, it’s presumptuous of me but I’ve never heard you talk much about friends or family and… you don’t wear a… ring. I just… Well, I know how hard it is to be a world away from what you know, and this city isn’t exactly kind in general, so…”

She’s rambling and I don’t ever want her to stop. Her voice ebbs and flows over me like a sultry tsunami and I can feel my fingers twitch, my blood rush through my system faster and faster.

“I just don’t think anyone should be alone or forgotten on their birthday so-” Finally, she reveals the mystery behind her back and holds out a green glass bottle. “I took a chance that you were a scotch man. At first I thought wine, but I know nothing about wine, and the guy at the shop said this one was good, so… Happy birthday, Professor.”

She hands me the bottle and without thinking, I take it. It’s not expensive by any means, but it’s the gesture that counts. She doesn’t let go right away, holding it with me, as if she can communicate her desires through the blown glass.

“Thank you.” I smile, let my finger brush against hers. “This is… very thoughtful.”

She lets go but doesn’t move otherwise. Her eyes are locked on me, her stare so pure.

I have to get her out of here.

Y/N shrugs and smiles, so confident now, so sure. “It’s nothing, really. I don’t even know if it’s any good.”

Her meaning lingers and I nod, gesture to the sofa as I start to peel off the seal on the top of the bottle.

“Join me for a glass?”

She bites her lip again and I nearly lose it.

“Love to.”

The scotch isn’t terrible but it’s not great. More like something you’d grab if you were just looking to get drunk, not necessarily gift someone you’re trying to impress.

Is that what she’s doing here? Trying to get me drunk? Surely, she knows she’s impressed me long before today. The looks between us in class, the lectures directed almost entirely at her have not gone unnoticed, but this, this is different. This is dangerous. She is dangerous.

The sofa suddenly feels too small. We sit close, drinking and chatting about life in London. She tells me about her family back home and how she had to cross an ocean to escape a misspent youth and an abusive father figure. I lie my way through a few answers but mostly, I let her talk.

The more she drinks, the looser her tongue gets, the freer her gestures. More than once, her hand falls to my knee and even though I should, I don’t push her away. Even though I should stand up, take her glass, ask her to get the hell out of my house, I can’t. I can’t do anything but stare at her lips as she speaks, drown myself in the tone of her voice, memorize the shape of her ears, her nose, slope of her shoulder. I’m lost in time with her and even though I know the clock is careening past midnight, I don’t care. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to move. I want to be frozen in this moment with her. I want to die in her arms but not before…

“Professor?” She laughs gently, loose and relaxed from the alcohol. She leans in, her shoulder pressing against mine. “Are you even listening to me?”

Honestly, I have no idea what she’s been saying, but I can’t let her know that. I shift a bit, turning towards her. There’s barely room left for the Holy Ghost, as they say, but I doubt he’d begrudge me a little closeness, especially on my- on Jonathan’s birthday.

“I’m listening,” I whisper, captivated by the way she’s glowing. “I’m always listening to you.”

She squirms a bit and smiles behind her glass, takes another sip, downing the rest. There’s a drop of amber gold on her lip and it takes every ounce of restraint in me not to sweep it away with my tongue.

She pats the back of her hand against it and the moment is gone.

“Ya know, you’re one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. And I’m not just sayin’ that. You really are. I get you. I see you, Jonathan Moore. I see inside you.”

She slurs a bit, but not enough for it to be considered a crime if I touch her. That’s all I want to do, just a simple touch. Just to feel how soft she is beneath my fingers, how smooth the curve of her cheek.

Ripping myself away from the impulse, I take the glass from her hand and set hers next to mine on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough, Miss. Y/L/N.”

Her hand lands on my chest, right in the very center of me. Can she feel my heartbeat? Does she know how much I want her?

“You can call me by my name, ya know,” she says, dropping her chin and smiling. She’s so close that it would take but a tiny nudge to taste her. “Everyone just calls me Y/N/N.”

This is insane. She needs to leave. I need to slam the door behind her and never open it again.

“Y/N/N.”

Her name falls from my tongue like an incantation and her eyes go hazy. She leans closer, her breath fanning over my lips.

“Say it again,” she asks, nearly begging, “please…”

Fuck, this isn’t good. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I need to- Fuck, what does it all matter? She’s beautiful and interesting and smart and sitting next to me barely dressed and all she wants is me to whisper her name. What’s the harm?

“Y/N/N.”

The spell falls over her and I know it’s too late to back away. Her eyes fall closed and she leans in, pressing her crimson painted lips to mine. She exhales, pushes herself into the kiss, lets out a tiny moan.

She feels so good and it’s all I can think about. She pulls back and I lean in, needing more. My arms wrap around her, stealing her away. She melts against me, opens her lips to my tongue. The vanilla on her skin mixes with the scotch on her tongue and I’m blown away.

“Professor…”

If feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but I can’t stop tasting her, can’t stop breathing into her with every ounce of air in my body.

I let her go for a second, thinking she’s changed her mind, but no, she’s even more ready than I am.

She stands up, fits her knees in between mine and slowly unbuttons her blouse.

My eyes are huge, I know it. I must look like an idiot but I can’t help it. She’s here, beautiful and curvaceous, teasing me, undressing for me. It’s all for me. She’s here for me.

The blouse floats to the floor and she looks down at me, a hint of previous nerves returning. Her bra is pale pink and covered in lace. Something so pure and innocent covering up something I would kill for.

I would, I realize. I would kill for her.

She wiggles out of her skirt and her hips are distracting. I want to touch, to feel my bones crushing into hers, to sink myself deep inside just to see what it’s like, to know her, to feel all of her.

“You like?” she asks, innocence ringing in her soft voice.

What happened in her past that would make her ask such a thing? Who hurt her so badly, who crushed her self esteem to the point that she wouldn’t be able to tell if I was enjoying her delicious display?

“Of course. You’re… absolutely stunning.”

I can’t say more or I’ll break. I reach for her and she slides into my lap, locking her thighs around mine. She presses down on me and my cock responds, all blood and logic rushing down to push back at her ass.

She wraps her hands around my neck and bends to kiss me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, she curls them, tugs gently, testing, enjoying. Her kisses deepen and her hips roll. I’m about to lose my mind.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day of class,” she moans, scraping her nails across my scalp.

The sensation is intoxicating and my eyes roll back a bit as she tugs hard. Her right hand is locked in my hair and her left is dragging down my chest. I should stop her. I should stand up. I should…

“Fuck.”

Her hand sneaks into my slacks and she scoots back onto my knees for better access. I can’t even think straight as she rubs at my cock. Her hand is soft, warm, firm. I know I’m moaning, but I can’t help it. I might just die here beneath her.

Her tongue glides across my lips. “So hard to sit in class and not dream about fucking you…”

Something snaps inside of me and I let go. I grab at her tits, peel the delicate lace down and pinch her nipples hard until she’s crying out and arching against me.

“I can’t even read anymore,” she admits, nearly breathless as my lips seal around her left nipple. “Every page makes me think of you. I can hear every word in your voice. I- oh God-”

I bite down just enough to stop her train of thought and I look up to see a blank, beautiful stare.

“I want you,” she whispers, lips never quite closing after.

Fuck. This is what I was trying to avoid. This feeling, this hunger inside of me. This need to fall into someone else, this treacherous lust that forces me to act.

“Please…”

Her hand falls to the nape of my neck and it’s so delicate, so tender that I break.

Wrapping my arms around her, I stand and twist, flipping her over onto her back. She gasps and reaches for me, kissing through the shock while I tug the slacks from my hips. She yanks at my shirt, fumbling with the tiny plastic buttons, licking at every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want you inside me so bad,” she sings, nearly praying as if I’m some ancient god on high that can make all her dreams come true.

I don’t know about all of them, but this prayer, I can answer.

I tear the lace from her hips and fall down over her, crushing her into the old sofa. Her breath stops for a blessed second and I swear I can hear her heart racing through the silence. She runs her hands across my shoulders and down, curling them around my hips while spreading her legs wider.

“Please… Please… Please…”

Her whine is pathetic but I can’t get enough. If I had it in me to drag this out, to tease her for hours, I would, but the scotch has clouded my head and the sight of her strung out and desperate makes it impossible to wait.

She inhales hard when I sink into her. I can feel myself falling but I press my hands beside her head and hold on as best I can.

She feels like heaven.

Or the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever know.

Wet and warm and tight, I can feel her throbbing around me. Every thrust is like magic, making her shiver and squirm and tighten up even more. She clings to me, nails digging into my arms, mouth searching and thirsty for more.

“Jon-”

I almost go insane. It’s not even my name, but it feels so right on her lips that I wish it was.

I feel her orgasm; her body clenching down on me and pulling me in deeper. It’s so hard not to scream her name at the top of my lungs. Nearly impossible not to stay here forever.

I fall down, shove my face into the crook of her neck and thrust a few more times. I know it’s over too soon, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She rakes her hand through my hair, gently this time, and finds my lips, kissing me sweetly.

“Hi,” she laughs when our eyes finally focus and find each other through the afterglow.

God, she’s beautiful. So giving, so loving, so perfect in a million different ways that it’s actually breaking my heart.

I smile and peck her lips as I go soft inside of her.

“Hello, You.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[sorrowsofsilence]

I Was Always Yours • 2

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 5.1k

Part One

Warnings: smut 18+ (mentions of PnV, wrap it b4 u tap it pls), fluff, female/male receiving, anxiety/panic attacks, swearing, alcohol, dirty talk

Summary: You grew up with Nick Ruffilo and Noah, but its been years since you’ve seen your best friends due to them being away touring. When Ruffilo came back to your hometown, opening his home tattoo studio, you get the opportunity to reconnect with him, and Noah. Deep down you’ve always had something for Noah, and it turns out he’s always felt something for you too. Perhaps seeing eachother years later, after you’ve both changed, sparked something.

Authors note: This is part 2! Initially I wasn’t planning on doing a second part but there was a lot of love on the first <3 so thank you! Hope you enjoy this one! (With 2 scenes of smut for all of us sick fucks to enjoy!)

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Noah’s back rested against the bedroom wall, the red LEDs illuminating his room. The clock read 3am, way past our bedtime, yet here I was, succumbing myself to Noah’s need.

“I can’t stop thinking about a few days ago,” he had said as I sat in his bed, days after we reconnected. I was playing on my phone while he was messing around on his computer, working on music. We had hung out non-stop since seeing each other; catching up, sharing stories, reminiscing, and just spending time together like we used to with an added activity.

“Me either,” I had replied, sitting up as my heart began racing thinking about it. What were we now? Were we still just friends? Things were not the same, things were different, but It was a good difference, it was how things always should’ve been…but was it the right choice?

“Nicks asleep,” he had said, turning his chair to face me. It was silent for a moment, as we had stared at each other, trying to read the expression on one another’s face.

“I need you so bad Y/N, you have me completely whipped.” He had said, before standing up and walking over to me: he had started kissing me rigidly, taking me into his arms.

“You need to earn your way back to my lips,” Noah whispered as he groaned deeply, his long, inked fingers tangled within the strands of my hair, wrapped around in a desirable hold.

He held my head in place firmly as my mouth slid up and down, hand holding the rest, tongue swirling around the tip. My legs supported me from below as I kneeled before him at his mercy.

“Christ Y/N, you got cheated on when you can suck dick like this?” Noah looked down at me, eyes fluttering closed before tilting his head back in bliss. His hips rolled into my face gently, beginning to fuck my mouth as his other hand joined the first, gripping the other side of my head, “Man's fucking loss,” he scoffed in disbelief.

I rolled my eyes and internally laughed, choking on Noah before looking up through my lashes, watching as his mouth hung open slightly, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Watching the hold I had over him turned me on immensely. He was falling apart because of me.

I gagged on him for a moment longer, pushing myself as far as I could, before pulling off of him, the string of saliva following my lips.

“Fuck,” Noah gave me a breathy laugh, looking down in awe with a lopsided grin “You were gone from me for too long, you’re telling me we could have been doing this years ago?”

I gave him a small smile, “I think we have a lot of missed time to make up for.”

I wrapped my hand around him, stroking up and down, rotating my wrist, before attaching my mouth to him again. Noah’s hands gripped my hair tighter, keeping me in place once again as he fucked me.

“Such a pretty girl, letting me fuck your mouth like this,” Noah pulled me closer to his abdomen as he hit the back of my throat. I gagged but closed my eyes to keep going.

“Y/N, look at me,” Noah demanded and my eyes snapped upwards towards his own, and he watched me watch him. With his lips parted he observed my every move, heavy pants heaving from his chest, shallow grunts pouring from his soul.

“Shit,” Noah’s body began to twitch, and seconds later my mouth was filled, threads of his release coating the back of my throat.

Noah tucked my hair behind my ears, rubbing his fingers down underneath my chin, “Good girls swallow,” he said, “all of it.”

I moaned at his words and obeyed, watching his eyes glint with satisfaction and complete reverence as I sucked.

Drinking in all of him I pulled away, and Noah leaned down, pulling my chin towards him, planting a kiss on my lips. I melted into him, sighing with contentment as he pulled up his black shorts.

“I was always yours,” he said, “but you keep proving to me that I’m never going anywhere ever again.”

+=+=+=+=+=+=

“Folio, Jolly this is Y/N: Y/N, this is Folio and Jolly,” Noah introduced me officially to Nick and Joakim, the drummer and guitarist, and I immediately felt giddy. Although known Noah and Ruffilo for years, I had never met the other two current members in person; only through photographs.

I had to admit I was a little excited, because I really did enjoy their music, and therefore have always wanted to meet the other two.

“It’s cool to see you guys in person and not on a screen,” I laughed shyly, shaking their hands. Folio squinted with his eyes, his crooked tooth smile even more charming face to face. Jolly pulled me in for a shake and a hug, catching me off guard. I felt flush as his long hair tickled my face, patting his back.

“Nice to finally meet you! Noah hasn’t shut up about you.” Folio said, grinning.

Noah ran up from behind, wrapping his arms around me, and lifting me up. I squealed with my back against his chest, laughing as he swung me around, playfully, “yea, because I missed her,” Noah laughed, placing his face in the crook of my neck, still holding on to me from behind.

I held on to his arms that crossed my chest, blushing at his signs of affection in front of his friends.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.” Jolly smiled warmly, “fucking goof.”

“So, you guys were friends growing up?” Folio asked as we all started walking towards the car. Noah had insisted I ride with the boys to the concert, coming early to spend time and see how everything behind the scenes worked. I told Noah I’d be happy to wait in line with the rest of the crowd, but he was taking this VIP very seriously.

“You want me to punish you if you don’t listen to me?”

Yes please, I had thought; but all I could do was stare up at him as he slowly backed me up towards the kitchen table.

“Noah,” I whined, tilting my head at him as he gripped my hips, his cologne filling my senses, “I’m going to watch the show from the crowd, but I’ll come with you everywhere else.”

My back hit the wood, and Noah leaned over me, placing a kiss on my forehead before kissing down to my lips.

“Good,” he mumbled, his hand sliding around my hip to behind, squeezing me, “but you better be behind the stage by the time I walk off at the end of Dethrone, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Yeah, Y/N, Noah and I went to school together,” Ruffilo said, offering me a hand to pull me into the car. I sat between him and Noah, Jolly and Folio sitting in the back row.

“Cool,” Folio said, before drumming on the back of the seat. I watched him, smiling.

“You’re pretty good at that hey?” I said, and he smiled back, shrugging.

“I’m hyped for today, I fucking love this place.”

We started driving towards the venue, and the closer we got to our destination, the more I noticed Noah’s anxiety beginning to spike. The entire time he kept his gaze out the window, hand gripping my thigh, resting his chin on his palm. His leg bounced rapidly, and ever so often I felt his fingers squeeze me, his hand beginning to vibrate.

I looked at him with concern, the smile from my conversation with Jolly fading from my lips as Noah took a brief sharp exhale, staying extremely still except for his leg. I placed my hand on top of his own, and Noah immediately stopped bouncing.

You okay? I mouthed, to which he shrugged, his dark brown eyes looking at me with apprehension before turning his gaze back out the window, the concrete jungle swaying past in a grey, lifeless blur. The boys became quiet, pretending to be preoccupied but watched; knowing that Noah was beginning to have a panic attack.

I flipped our hands, entwining my fingers with Noah’s and resting them on his moving leg, rubbing my thumb delicately across his skin. His hands were clammy but I held on in compassion, creating a soothing, rhythmic touch on the top of his hand. I rested my head on his shoulder, to which he placed his on top of mine.

Without saying anything I began to inhale through my nose, expiring throughout my mouth, and Noah eventually caught on, mimicking my breathing pattern. Opening up his palm, I ran the tips of my finger up and down each appendage, tracing the outline of his hand before circling his palm, moving from the centre outwards, before repeating the pattern. Noah analyzed my movements for a moment longer, and I sat up, turning my body to face him.

He watched me, eyes still filled with worry but transitioning to appreciation, before he closed his eyes, pushing his face into the side of mine affectionately. He stayed there for a moment, the soft breath of his exhale brushing across my cheek. With my free hand, I reached up, pushing the bangs delicately out of his face, running my hands through his hair, hoping the sensations helped distract him from his anxiety, even for a brief moment.

I felt sympathy for him, knowing that this must be the anxiety Nick mentioned that Noah’s struggled with lately. Fans have been crazy, and for someone who has always had a low social battery, I can imagine it must be even more difficult for him.

I gave Noah a small smile, before leaving in, giving him a delicate kiss of love and confidence, showing him that he is supported.

“Better?” I whispered, and Noah squeezed my hand in response, eyes lingering on me for a moment more before he let out another breath.

“I don’t know how I survived so long without you.” He whispered back, almost sighing in relief.

I couldn’t help but blush, resting my head on him again, and he wrapped his arm around me now, leaning me into his chest.

Once we arrived we were rushed into the building. Thankfully there were no fans out yet because we were so early- but I was glad because otherwise, rumours would start. Noah held my hand the entire way, only letting go once we arrived at the green room, and him heading to the washroom.

My eyes followed him as he left, the door closing quickly. I then turned to look at Ruffilo who patted me on the head.

“Nice work Y/N/N.” he hugged me, and I breathed into his chest, sighing.

Folio nodded in agreement, “Wow. I haven’t seen him calm down that fast in a while.”

I frowned, looking at the three of them sadly, “this is a usual occurrence?”

Jolly nodded, “unfortunately. Ever since the fans found out shit about where we lived and dug up stuff from his past, he hasn’t been the same.”

I turned, watching the door, waiting for Noah to return, “that breaks my heart.”

The boys nodded, agreeing.

“But honestly, we still have a fuck ton of fun,” Ruffilo said, reassuring me.

“Yea,” Folio said, beginning to drum the air, “now we get to fuck around until sound check.”

I laughed, “And that means?”

“Tomfoolery,” Jolly said, a glint in his eye, “and shots!”

+=+=

“Fuck I hate vodka,” Noah grumbled, eying the shot glass with a look of disgust, lip curling.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Sebastian,” I raised a brow, the boys cheering as I downed the shot, my nose scrunching as the alcohol burned my throat.

Noah plugged his nose before shooting it back, shaking his head as he swallowed it, coughing.

“That shit is literally vile,” he whined, chugging some juice to mask the flavour.

“Don’t be so dramatic pretty boy, you’re fine,” Jolly laughed, patting Noah’s back.

“You don’t know shit about fuck,” Noah glared, laughing.

“I don’t know shit about fuckin, but I know shit about everything else!” Jolly said, downing a shot himself, and I laughed, smiling harder than I probably have in years.

“Aight boys, time for soundcheck,” Noah said, before extending a hand for me to take. Entwining our fingers he led me with them. I had to admit this was very exciting, getting to see the process of how behind the scenes worked.

Once each section was set up, Folio started drumming, and I watched in amazement as his feet followed his arms, beginning to alternating patterns, hitting the double beat and cymbals.

“He’s extremely talented!” I said, appreciating the opportunity to watch Nick without any other sound present- just the drummer.

“Folio is a complete animal on stage.” Noah agreed, folding his arms and watching in approval.

It was Ruffilo’s turn next, then Jolly, and then Noah.

Noah held the mic close, fiddling with his earpiece, hitting a variety of notes. I watched in amazement, falling completely in love with his ‘acoustic’ voice. It was rare that I got to hear him bare, without any music.

Once they finished, they packed up, and Noah explained how the rest of the show was going to work. They were going to let the audience in soon.

“Are you sure you want to stay in the crowd?” Noah asked, reluctant.

I nodded reassuringly, “of course! I gotta get the bad omen experience.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Nick joined us, placing an arm across my shoulders.

“But- how else is he supposed to get a good luck kiss between songs?” Ruffilo teased as I leaned into him, slapping his chest playfully.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, “he never needed those before and did just fine.”

Noah gave me a cheeky grin, “ok but now that I can have a good luck kiss, it’s gotta be a ritual now.”

I shook my head, smiling at him, “Whatever, I’m going to go get my fangirl on.”

I turned into Nick, squeezing him, “break a leg, but not literally,” I said.

“I’ll try not to or will I-“ he laughed, before turning to head to Folio and Jolly.

“I’ll let security know to keep an extra close eye on you, I don’t want you getting hurt- especially if a wall of death breaks out.” Noah said cautiously, “And I want you to be against the bar the entire time, and make sure to stay centred so I can keep an eye on you, ok?”

I tilted my head to the side, giving him a ‘really’ look.

“Noah,” I grabbed his t-shirt by the collar, standing on my tiptoes as I pulled him close to me, noses inches apart. Noah’s breathing quickened, his lips parting gently as his eyes trailed between my mouth and eyes rapidly.

“I’ll be okay,” I whispered, closing the gap between our lips, and kissing him hard. Our mouths moved together, Noah wrapping his arms around me, folding into each other.

I pulled away, Noah following reluctantly, moaning in protest.

“Good luck,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Noah kissed me again quickly, before letting me pull away. As I turned to follow security, he grabbed my wrist, holding me for a moment, his eyes darkening. I watched him confused, before the sentence left his lips.

“Don’t forget what I said, you better be backstage by the time Dethrone is finished.”

A flash of heat washed throughout my body as I nodded, and Noah smiled. “Good. See you soon princess.”

Noah walked away, turning back once to give me a brief wink, and I flushed, following security towards the stage. I hopped down, standing right against the barricade.

Within fifteen minutes the venue started filling, the string of fans running towards the front, some even beginning to push into my back. I held onto the bar firmly, not letting myself be shoved to leave the spot. I shared eye contact with a security guard and I nodded, reassuring him I was okay.

About an hour went by, and eventually, the lights went dark, and the fans erupted into a roar.

I too began screaming, the adrenaline of excitement coursing through my veins. Seconds later the stage lit up with a visual, a video beginning to play. Noah, lying on a mattress with an initiation mask began speaking:

Why do you care about these people?

They don’t care about you- none of them?

They don’t even know you- because you haven’t shown them.

Black and white visuals flashed on the screen, and my heart raced with excitement.

Every day, you’ll wake up, and there’ll be less of you.

You live your life for them,

and they don’t even see you.

You don’t even see yourself.

Jolly walked out on stage, still completely dark, but the guitar riff to artificial suicide began.

Can you hear me through the white noise?

Fans screamed, bodies pushing against me in excitement, waiting for the brunette god to walk onto the stage.

The bass dropped, Folio’s drum beat taking over Jolly’s riff, as Ruffilo walked across the stage, masked, bass pumping through my ears. Fans howled again.

“Can you hear me you sick fucks?”

The crowd went feral.

Noah strutted into the stage, the embodiment of confidence and poise, swinging his arms before stopping mid-stage, gazing over the crowd, a hand covering his chest in appreciation for the turnout. His face was covered, only his eyes and mouth barely visible, as a black jacket and hood covered his body- it was almost a shame he was so modest, but I knew that in a few songs, he would strip, leaving himself exposed in that tight, black, vest top me and every other Noah fan admired.

“Can you hear me through the white noise!” He screamed into the mic, raising it in the air as smoke filled the venue, and I hollered in awe, yelling for my boys.

“Soaked in the neon glows

Silver-forked tongues talking to you in the digital snow

A glitch in the chain, a loop in the brain

You wanted to break, but you still wanna play the game!”

Noah bobbed around the stage, Jolly and Ruffilo head banging and I took it all in. The lights flashing, the smoke, the raging excitement radiating from the crowd- I smiled, eyes brimming with tears. I couldn’t help but feel proud of Noah and Nick, almost in disbelief that this was for them. They’ve grown so much, and it was entirely different getting to be part of the crowd myself compared to watching them online.

I screamed until my lungs felt raw, my throat burning, sweat dripping down my face.

All of this time sitting inside, sitting in the dark

And every night I can see why you could never stop, yeah

Lying is hard, and the truth comes out anyway

You're going way too far, gonna drop dead at this rate

Noah sat in front of me now, singing into his mic, his hair covering his eyes as I watched, completely fascinated.

There's no another way, don't let me go

Don't dig another grave today

I'll make the same mistakes, I'll never know

Who I was before I faded away into the grey

I gazed at Noah as he walked across the stage slowly, singing intentionally with every word, eyes scanning the crowd before he landed on me.

The song finished, and there was a short break, before Noah came back, jacket gone, the only thing remaining a pair of black cargo pants, boots, and that stupid fucking tank top.

The lighting defined Noah’s arms, his tattoos glistened from the sweat, and my heart began to race once again. My mind began to race with a million thoughts, but it kept landing on how good he’d look with his head tilted back as I took him in my mouth- or how much I wanted him to give me everything from behind, hands wrapped around my throat.

“What is up my friends!” Noah boomed, waving his arms, as the crowd yelled.

“We are bad omens and we are so fucking thankful to be here tonight!”

Nick hit the kick peddle of the drum kit in excitement, acknowledging the fans.

“We are gonna play an old song for ya, how does that sound?”

The crowd cheered.

“Who knows if I’m there?”

The crowd screamed again.

There are scars that'll never ever show themselves

You get when you're left alone too long in Hell

They tried to keep in the secrets that you wouldn't tell

But they just stripped you for parts you had to sell

Noah crouched in front of the crowd, reaching his arms out. He followed down the front, until stopping right in front of me. Arm extended, the body of hands around me grabbing onto his arms, but he left his hand open.

Noah sang into the mic, watching my eyes with every move. I stared up at him with a smile breaking out onto my face.

Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall

You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

I didn't want to believe how much you needed help

And I just left you to be all by yourself

And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well

But I just came back to see how hard you fell

I raised my arm, grabbing onto Noah’s hand, feeling my breath hasten as an immense amount of emotions washed over me. Here I was, being sung to, in front of thousands of people- yet it felt like it was just me and Noah.

His words were for me, and my heart raced, pounding out of my chest as we gazed at each other. He squeezed my hand before letting go, making his way down the rest of the stage.

There was a short intermission, and I felt my phone buzz.

Checking it, I noticed Noah texted.

‘Don’t forget what I said.’

I chuckled, shaking my head as I responded.

‘I’ll be there you dork. You guys sound fucking amazing, you’re killing it.’

Seconds later, Noah responded.

‘Don’t take your eyes off me for this next one.’

My breath hitched in my throat, and the lights dimmed inside the venue again, before the bass began, introducing The Death of Peace of Mind.

My mind began to race again, and as Noah stepped onto the stage, his eyes immediately latched onto me.

I made another mistake, thought I could change

Thought I could make it out

Promises break, need to hear you say

You're gonna keep it now

I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break

Your makeup running down your face

The way you touch, the way you taste

When the curtains call the time

Will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize

Love's the death of peace of mind

You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames

Hanging upside down

For granted, in vain, I took everything

I ever cared about

Noah never broke eye contact during the entire song. Despite walking across the entire stage, his eyes never left mine- and I refused to let mine leave his.

I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break

Your makeup running down your face

The way you fuck, the way you taste

Noah ‘Look at me’ Sebastian let his fingers flow to his lips, taking the shape of a V as he licked between them, the crowd going ballistic. I felt my own stomach begin to churn.

You come and go in waves

Leaving me in your wake

You come and go in waves

Swallowing everything

Are you satisfied?

The crowd screamed again, and once the song finished the introduction to Dethrone began. I motioned over the security, who helped me crawl over the barrier and escorted me away from the crowd. As I headed up the stage and walked behind the curtain, I watched the side view of the performance, the boys thrashing out their last song of the night, all energy put into this song.

Here am I, take me to the pearly gates

So I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face

Here am I, take me to the pearly gates

Don't let 'em hit you on the way out when I take your place

As soon as the song finished they walked off stage, the crowd screaming behind them. All the boys smiled as they passed me, nodding sweatily. Noah on the other hand immediately grabbed me, kissing me firmly.

“Good fucking girl.” He said, smiling as his chest heaved with exhaustion. My face blushed again, especially knowing everyone around us heard his praise.

The crowd was screaming behind us again, and the boys had two minutes to compose themselves before going out to wave and bow. I waited patiently, watching them run out and smile with gratitude at the fans below them, throwing an assortment of picks and guitar sticks.

After a few minutes, the boys came back, and before I could say anything Noah instantly grabbed my wrist, pulling me along with him.

“Where are we going?” I asked, confused, but my insides bubbled with excitement.

“I want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you,” Noah muttered through gritted teeth, sending my heart into a frenzy of nerves. He tugged me through the halls, before finding a door, shoving me into the room.

It appeared to be a smaller version of a green room, the only things inside being a washroom and a couch. Almost like it was placed here just for us.

Locking the door swiftly behind him, Noah led me to the black letter couch sitting down, pulling me onto his lap.

I straddled him, his hands working their way underneath my skirt, gripping at the now-exposed skin.

“You didn’t wear shorts?” Noah moaned, almost instantly hardening at the realization. His tattooed hands ran along the back of my thighs, squeezing periodically, bringing his lips into my neck, biting at the skin gently.

“Do I turn you on that much?” I breathed hastily, closing my eyes, enjoying Noah’s worship over my body. He was fully indulging in me, taking every moment for himself.

“You don’t even fucking know,” he whispered, tugging the shirt off of my body, letting his lips trail across my shoulders, “the only thought I’ve had lately is what it would be like getting to eat you out after performing.”

I smiled at his words, closing my eyes as his lips trailed along my torso, my hips beginning to grind into his. “Are we— are we really going to do this here?”

Noah hummed in response, squeezing me to symbolize a yes.

“Let’s make your thoughts a reality then?” I whispered, and Noah’s eyes leered at me, completely insatiable with hunger.

His hands roamed across my body, and as I rotated on top of him, digging my core into his own, he let out a low groan, body thrusting upwards, slowly.

Noah’s hands pulled away my underwear, leaving me fully exposed underneath my skirt. “God I love the idea of you having nothing on underneath this, such easy access.”

I heard voices passing down the hall, and my head snapped towards the door, chest pounding.

“Th-There are people outside this door—” I said, pushing off Noah slightly, but his inked arms wrapped around me, pulling me back.

“Well, this isn’t about them, is it?” Noah said, chuckling lowly, “Just sit on my fucking face already.” 

Noah stayed sitting, but pushed himself deeper into the couch as I crawled up, allowing myself to be right above him, almost hanging over the couch; his breath left a cooling sensation on my skin, and I shuddered in anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me,” Noah demanded, pulling at my thighs.

“Spread them wider,” he said, and I tried, splitting myself completely for his need.

“Noah, please,” I whimpered, my body soaking for him, yet dreaded not being touched.

“Look at you,” he tskd, letting his long fingers rub along my folds, “coming undone before I’ve even started touching you.” 

“Please,” I whispered ever so lightly, gripping into the back of the couch.

Noah’s fingers danced around my skin for a moment longer before he explored my body, inviting himself into my space and causing my thighs to desire to squeeze shut; but Noah held a firm grip, forcing me against his mouth. His tongue circulated me, before he sucked, moaning against my sensitive skin.

“Jesus Christ, I love the way you taste,” Noah slapped my behind, squeezing so hard I knew there would be a mark. I winced at the impact, but my body began to convulse against his lips as he assaulted me where I needed him most.

“F-Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long if you keep doing that,” I moaned, rolling myself into his skin, trying to create more friction for my need. One of Noah’s hands left my skin, trailing down towards his cargo pants as he freed himself, and began to touch his own body.

“I want you to fuck me so bad Noah,” I cried, pushing into him desperately as I watched him pleasure his own impulse, slim fingers cascading through his heat.

“You’ll get that once we get home.” He said, panting from beneath me, “I want you to come all over my face.”

My mouth hung open as my orgasm built, ears began to ring. I let out a moan way louder than intended, causing Noah to begin to thrust into his hips, his body twitching with complete craving. His breathing quickened and I felt him struggle against me as I cried out, pushing against him one final time as I came undone, and Noah released all over his taped hand, rubbing out his own desire.

I panted, pulling myself off of his face and down into his lap, sitting on his mess.

“Imagine how amazing you’ll sound when I’m fucking you senseless.” Noah’s eyes were closed as he smiled and tilted his head back in satisfaction, out of breath.

After a moment I pulled him into a kiss, and we whispered praises against one another’s lips, which was met with gentle moans. 

“I love getting to know you like this.” He sighed, pulling back to look at me as we heaved together, exhausted.

I smiled at him, pressing my forehead against his own, appreciating what Noah and I had begun to build amongst our friendship.

I kissed him again, softly, my body flushing with heat again, “Will you let me ride you when we get back?”

Noah’s deep October eyes opened with lust, staring me down once again with an immense amount of need. “Only if you moan my name for everyone to hear.”

Oh god help me

[flowerbunnyboo]

PLEASE DOCTOR, HELP ME! | back

starring: jungkook x male reader

summary: Jungkook is a urologist, a doctor that deals with penises and prostates. Little did he expect to have one of the best sex ever with a random patient on a random day

nsfw

a/n: hi ! This is inspired by the say uncle porn videos which I absolutely love

It was a typical Wednesday morning at Dr. Jungkook's urology clinic. Patients trickled in, each with their unique set of urinary issues. Jungkook, a tall and handsome man in his early thirties, greeted them with a warm smile as he efficiently diagnosed and treated various conditions - from kidney stones to prostatitis.

Just before lunch, a new patient arrived, introducing himself as Mn. He looked to be in his late twenties, with short dark hair and piercing eyes that seemed to hold a secret. As Mn settled onto the examination table, Jungkook couldn't help but notice the way his slender fingers drummed against his thigh, betraying a hint of nervousness.

“So, tell me Mr. Mn”,Jungkook began, leaning over the chart, “What seems to be the problem?”

Mn shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the sterile white room before finally meeting Jungkook's gaze.

“Well, Doctor... I've been experiencing some discomfort down there,” he gestured vaguely towards his crotch, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It's like... my dick just feels off sometimes”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “Off, how exactly? Painful? Tingly? Or perhaps... “. His voice trailed off suggestively as he allowed his gaze to linger on Mn's lap, where a noticeable bulge strained against the fabric of his jeans.

Mn's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “N-no pain, really. Just... sensitivity, I guess. And sometimes it gets hard without warning”

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, making a note on the chart making another mark beside 'Premature Ejaculation'.

He glanced up at Mn through his lashes, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hmm, interesting. Well, let's take a closer look, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook reached for the stethoscope hanging from his neck and deftly unbuttoned Mn's pants.

The cool metal pressed against sensitive skin as he listened intently, his breath hot against Mn's inner thigh.

“Mmm, sounds healthy enough”, Jungkook murmured, his fingers trailing lightly along the waistband of Mn's boxers. “But I think we should rule out any potential prostate issues. Just a routine exam, don't worry”

Mn bit his lip, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through him at Jungkook's touch. ‘Prostate exam?’ Was that normal for this kind of visit? He didn't think so, but the doctor's confident demeanor put him at ease.

Jungkook carefully peeled down Mn's boxers, exposing his erect cock to the cool air of the exam room. A low whistle escaped his lips. “My, you're quite the one, aren't you?”

Mn's face burned even hotter, but he couldn't help shying under the praise.

Jungkook's hands were gentle as they wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow squeeze. “Relax, this won't hurt a bit”, the doctor assured him, his thumb rubbing teasing circles over the sensitive head.

As Jungkook began to stroke Mn's length, the young man felt his resolve crumbling.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and Mn found himself arching into Jungkook's touch, his hips instinctively rocking to meet those skilled fingers. “Oh god, that feels...amazing”, he panted, his eyes fluttering shut.

Jungkook smiled to himself, pleased by the reaction. He picked up the pace, pumping Mn's cock with increasing urgency. “You're doing great, just relax and enjoy it”, he cooed, leaning in close to murmur against Mn's ear.

The heat of Jungkook's breath sent shivers down Mn's spine, and he could feel his balls drawing up tight, signaling his impending climax. But just as he teetered on the edge, Jungkook abruptly pulled away, leaving Mn aching and empty.

“Almost there, but not yet”

Jungkook said with a wink, his own erection straining visibly against his scrubs. “Now, let's see about that prostate of yours...”

Before Mn could protest, Jungkook had positioned himself between his thighs, one hand guiding Mn's leg up and over his hip. The other hand, slick with lube, pressed insistently against Mn's rear entrance.

“Oh!”, Mn gasped, surprised by the sudden intrusion. But instead of pain, a wave of intense pleasure washed over him as Jungkook's finger breached his tight hole.

“That's it, just relax”, Jungkook soothed, slowly working his finger deeper. “You're doing fantastic”

Mn moaned, his head falling back as he surrendered to the sensation. Jungkook's finger curled inside him, stroking that magical spot that made stars explode behind his eyelids.

”Doctor”, Mn whimpered, his voice trembling with need, “please... I need..”

He didn't even know what he needed anymore, only that the ache within him demanded to be filled.

Jungkook must have understood, because suddenly he was removing his finger and replacing it with the thick head of his own cock.

Mn cried out as he felt that first delicious stretch, his body welcoming the invasion. Jungkook pushed in inch by glorious inch until he was buried to the tip, filling Mn completely.

For a moment, they simply stayed like that, caught in the haze of pleasure. Then Jungkook began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside Mn before plunging back in with a deep, satisfying thrust.

“Yes, oh god yes”, Mn chanted, his hands fisting in the sheets as he met each powerful stroke.

The room echoed with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by their ragged breathing and muffled groans. Jungkook set a relentless pace, driving into Mn with precision and passion, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

Mn's world narrowed to the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed, so utterly owned by this handsome doctor. He'd never experienced anything like it, and the intensity threatened to consume him whole.

“Harder, please”, Mn begged, his voice hoarse with desire. “Fuck me harder!”

Jungkook obliged, picking up speed until the exam table shook beneath them. He leaned down to capture Mn's mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to tangle with Mn's.

The added stimulation sent Mn careening over the edge.

With a strangled cry, Mn came undone, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. His cock jerked, painting the sheets below with streaks of cum as wave after wave of bliss pulsed through him.

Through it all, Jungkook continued to pound into him, chasing his own release. “Fuck, you feel incredible”, he growled against Mn's lips, his thrusts growing erratic as he neared the edge.

With a final, brutal plunge, Jungkook buried himself to the insides and still Mn could feel every throbbing inch as he erupted inside him. The warmth of his seed flooding Mn's insides triggered another aftershock, leaving them both shaking and spent.

As the aftermath settled, Jungkook collapsed onto Mn, his weight a comforting pressure against him.

They lay there for a long moment, catching their breath and savoring the intimate silence. Finally, Jungkook lifted his head to gaze at Mn with a soft, satisfied smile.

“Well, that was certainly an unconventional examination”, he teased, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from Mn's forehead. “But I think we can safely say your physical is complete”

Mn chuckled weakly, still reeling from the intensity of their encounter. “I suppose that's one way to ensure a thorough check-up”, he agreed, his voice tinged with amusement and something warmer.

Jungkook's expression turned tender as he cupped Mn's cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of his jaw. “And I have to say, I'm rather glad our paths crossed today”, he murmured, his eyes searching Mn's face.

Mn's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in Jungkook's words, and the gentle affection in his touch. He found himself wanting to lean into it, to bask in the afterglow of their passionate encounter and explore these new feelings blossoming between them.

“I am too”, Mn admitted softly, his hand coming up to cover Jungkook's where it rested on his cheek. “This was more than just a physical exam, wasn't it?”

Jungkook nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Definitely. And I think we both know this isn't the last time we'll be seeing each other”

Mn's pulse quickened at the implication, a thrill of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness.

“So, what do you say?”, Jungkook asked, his voice low and inviting as he rolled off Mn and sat beside him on the exam table. “Want to grab some dinner together? Maybe get to know each other a little better outside of the doctor patient relation?”

Mn considered the offer, his mind already racing with possibilities. A date with Jungkook sounded incredibly appealing, but he also knew he should probably slow down and not rush into things.

Still, the memory of their intense coupling lingered, making it difficult to think clearly. “I'd like that, he finally replied, deciding to take a chance on this unexpected connection.

Jungkook's face lit up with a radiant smile, and he reached out to squeeze Mn's shoulder. “Great! I know a really nice Italian place not far from here. How about we meet there at 7 pm?”

Mn nodded, already looking forward to their evening plans. As he started to gather his clothes, Jungkook helped him tidy up the mess they'd made, their fingers occasionally brushing in a way that sent pleasant shivers down Mn's spine.

Once everything was in order, Jungkook walked Mn to the door, his arm casually slung around the smaller man's shoulders. “I'll see you tonight, then”, he said, pressing a lingering kiss to Mn's temple.

Mn felt his cheeks heat at the gesture, but he smiled contentedly, already anticipating the warm glow of their budding relationship. “Looking forward to it,” he replied, stepping out into the hallway and waving goodbye as Jungkook closed the door behind him.

©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit

[shirefantasies]

Sweet Spot- Boromir x Reader

Warnings: teensy bit suggestive

Lie down was the echo of your every thought, even as your gaze was pierced by blue at the lady Galadriel’s stare, even as your heard her whisper into those dark crevasses about the fear and apprehension held deep in your heart, your own personal insecurities amplified by your beloved wizard companion’s fall. If Gandalf had failed, after all, what if you were not enough? Your exhausted mind posed, and if so, would the man you’d come to love on your journey tire of you? Find you short of the glory amidst which he was raised, unfit for great white halls and soaring towers? Perhaps you were simply out of place.

You are exhausted, the Lady of Lórien’s voice echoed once more through your mind with a flutter of her golden lashes, such times change many a thought. Go to him. He will show you every answer and more. Perhaps he shall benefit from your presence as well.

At that, your gaze fell from the Lady’s small smile, drifting out to the smattering of ancient trunks, each one extending to the heavens with its spreading green hands. Steps spiraled up most of them, but your hollow met the earth, carven as it was into the tree’s base.

With one final nod Galadriel’s way, you accepted her wisdom and strode softly across the damp ground and fallen leaves to one of the hollows. To your luck, you had chosen the one in which Boromir reclined, and when he caught sight of you a smile broke across his face, striking some tension out of your muscles with the shock of joy. Extending an arm, Boromir beckoned you closer, and you quickly obeyed, dropping down to his side upon the cushions that filled the hollow.

“A rare luxury,” he commented, wrapping an arm around you the moment you settled into him, your back to his chest, “is this not? Here we are, clean and safe again in a bed no less! Well, a bed of sorts.”

You’d traveled with the man enough to recognize when his tone opened itself up to coloring with false cheer, and despite his warm embrace this was one of those times. His words hardly struck your ears for all your concern.

“What is the matter? Did something happen? Or is it just...everything?" You did not dare speak the wizard's name. Not yet.

"All the words the Lady spoke," Boromir replied, body deflating against yours, "she spoke to me of Gondor falling, about my father, and though she told me not to lose hope, how can I not?"

"Lady Galadriel spoke into the pits of my worry as well," you rotated in his hold to face him properly, his forehead hitting yours immediately, “but she also reminded me that our exhaustion changes many a thought. Whether it is true in your eyes or not, you are a great man and just as well a son. I see it in the way you care for the hobbits and all you meet. You may feel you can get no rest here in these woods, but please try. For me. For Frodo and the others.”

“Your words are true and sweet as your heart. What would I do without you?” Boromir’s breath fanned your face, his arms snaking even further about you as his smile began creeping back.

“They were not my words alone.”

“Oh, but from who else would I have taken them?” Shaking his head and whispering your name, Boromir pressed his lips just beneath your ear. “I shall rest indeed if only you stay here with me. I need you.”

Another kiss, this time down to your collarbone. "Please."

Of course he needn't ask you twice. Swallowing, you simply nodded your response, tilting your head for access as Boromir's lips traveled back up your neck. Minutes passed like moments as your beloved nuzzled you, nose and lips warm against you; he held you there in relish of your skin and you welcomed it even as you teased him.

"Is this what you call a rest?" You breathed, grinning wickedly. "Will you sleep like this, then?"

"Believe me," he smiled, "the feeling of you in my arms is all the rest I could ever desire."

Your heart somehow leapt and quieted at that, all its sinking ceased at words so soothing...and so heating, too. Much as you doubted yourself, it was true that in Boromir's arms you felt to be enough. More than, you reflected as he smoothed your hair and kissed your forehead.

“I confess I lost hope for a moment too,” you told him, “I wondered how I could survive this if Ga- if others could not. How I might live up to all those I love, and yet now I see.”

“What is that? What do you see?” Boromir’s green eyes peered at you intently, pupils wide and shining and brows furrowed slightly in concern.

Smiling softly, you reached up to trace the lines of his cheek with your hand, soft skin and rough stubble alike brushing the back of it.

“We all carry this same burden in one way or the other. And yet when we let ourselves be seen there it goes again. We fall when abiding by our own strength only- I have yours as you have mine.” Your hand slid further down, smoothing the front of Boromir’s tunic and then grasping his.

With that, he brought your joined hands to his lips. “Well said. You see? That is why I love you. Why I need you.”

“And I love you,” you replied breathily between Boromir’s rapid pecks, giggling as he went right back to lavishing attention upon the sweet spot on your neck, “I need you just as well. My captain of the white tower. My strength, my guardian.”

“My heart,” Boromir shot back, stopping his barrage to rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, finally settling down; his heart began to slow beneath your hand, still firmly grasped in his against his chest, “shall we now rest?”

“We shall,” you replied with a grin, leaning on him and reclining all the way upon the blanketed floor, “sweet dreams, love.”

“Only such now that you are by my side.”

“I will never be found anywhere else,” you whispered, pressing one final kiss to the crown of Boromir’s head, heart soothed as it beat in time with his.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 | Message/Reply/Ask to join 🥰

[d6volution]

Ringmaster.

Chapter 2, Proclamation.

Caine/Reader. | Fem alinged.

Rating: Explicit.

tag: chair sex, mirror sex, choking, aphrodisiacs, caine has a big di—, nipple play.

minors dni.

You could still feel him holding your body flush to his chest, hand running along your waist and just beneath the curve of your heavy breast. He silently watched you come down from your previous high. Thinking of what to do next. He could feel your body threatening to go limp against him. Now this certainly wasn't the time for shut eye!

"None of that my dear, open your eyes!" He lightly tapped your face, and your lashes fluttered.. it seemed your first orgasm drained you more than expected, perhaps he should have eased up on the 'aphrodisiacs'. No matter.

The rest of your clothes were stripped away, and the cool air helped you come to. But your body was still practically on fire, and god did you need him to touch you again.. but bit your tongue. Fighting against the urge to admitting to something so embarrassing.

"[Censor]...." You whined, and just like clock work Caine's baton whacked at your bare thighs before gently rolling along the little welt that began to appear. "Language my dear! Hmmn.. and how are we feeling down here?" The ball of his baton gently nudged and rubbed at that tender little pearl in-between your legs. You yelped and jerked against the sensation, back arching a little. "Just as I thought ! Even if you don't want to admit it's clear your body craves more! And why not give it all it needs and then some hmm?" His voice seemed to drop an octave at the end of his sentence.

That made your legs squeeze together.

"But.. Caine.." You huffed, attempting to adjust yourself in his arms but be took over. Snapping his fingers and you both were now in his floating chair. "C.. Caine, get us down..! Please.. th.. this isn't the time for your tricks..!" Your voice was still trembling and laced with need, but you clung to his suit jacket. Not that you were dangerously high in the air, but in the air nonetheless.

The ringmaster ignored your pleas and instead made sure you sat prettily on his lap, holding you firmly by the waist.. with your back against his chest. Just then you could feel something poking you through his black pants.. Caine tuts at your feeble attempt at back talk, "Look. just in front of you dear. How can you deny it when you're still making such a mess of yourself!" You looked up from the ground, and was faced with a tall and wide mirror. There you were , naked in this new obscene body you almost forgot you had.

You immediately attempted to cover yourself and Caine stopped you in your tracks. He placed your legs atop his own and used this advantage to spread them wide, "My, my look at you ! You're practically dripping..!" He said with delight, his hips unconsciously rolling up against your bare ass. You could feel him throbbing against you. "S..So willing and eager to take me.. Oh, you were certainly made just for me my dearest Y/N!" He spoke while both his hands started to caress your tender breasts again. Pinching and tugging at your tender nipples. The man was quite literally drooling over your body. 

He grinded into your ass as he tweaked and toyed with your nipples until they were raw and your eyes were beginning to get glossy.

"N..Not so hard Caine.." Your mind was spinning, just the stimulation of your nipples made your cunt clench around nothing, it was like electricity throughout your body. Too bad Caine was blinded by his own lust to hear care for your pleas, "Worry not, Y/N.. I have just the thing to make you keep that pretty mouth singing for me!" One hand released your breast and got to work undoing his pants. His shaft flung to life in between your legs, standing tall and proud. 

Your body had a physical reaction just to seeing his member, how would it react when it was inside..? If that thing could even fit in the first place.

Naturally you began to squirm in his lap, was it out of fear? eagerness? you couldn't tell the two feelings apart anymore. 

"Now, I know what you're thinking! And I assure you, it will fit!" He reached around your waist and grabbed the base of it rubbing it along your slit. Shuddering behind you as he breathed like some kind of animal on your neck. 

"Too big Caine, won't fit.." You still whined, and his hand that once caressed your chest was now ghosting along your neck. "Oh, my dear, but it will." His tip was pushing against your entrance, you could feel the resistance, his dick was just too girthy. How could anyone be so big!? 

Naturally your legs spread wider, your body wanted this.. needed it, so it was determined to make just that happen, "Nnnh, pleasepleasepleaseplease...!" You begged and hooded eyes watched him bully his way into your tight hole through the reflection of the mirror. As his tip finally pushed past your puffy lips and sunk into your heat, your mouth hung open, bliss trickling through your body. "M.. More please.." It was just a whisper. But the eerily quiet Caine still heard your pathetic plea and he did just that, sinking himself further into your heat. Inch by inch he disappeared into your fluttering cunt. 

You were so focused on the pressure in your cunt you almost forgot didn't realize just how quiet Caine had gotten since he entered you, your gaze shifted to the reflection of Caine in front of you. He was trembling, pupils dilated into a sea of black, he was clearly trying so hard to hold himself back it seemed, this was the quietest you've ever seen him. It was as scary as it was attratctive. 

Somehow, he noticed your gaze without shifting his own and took this chance to thrust the final few inches inside of you and it caught you off guard just as he suspected it would. Pulling a delicious scream from your lips. "Aaah!! Nnh.. so, deep.. nnh.." You panted out, but this stuff coursing through your body was impatient. Sure, you were full of dick. Sensitive as could be, and being fucked in front of a mirror by the ring leader, but it still wanted more. Like he said it needed to be satiated. "Please, mov- hhck!" His hand already near your neck, grabbed it rather tightly. You gasped scrambled, but tightened so nicely on his dick that he moaned into your ear without warning. 

You could just barely breathe, he was very careful about his hand placement to make sure of it. "What a change of heart you've had my dear," He said while moving his hips back, before slamming them upwards into your tight cunt. Another strangled gasp escaped your lips, hands clawing at this sleeve, but to no avail.

Over over and over.

He slammed into your cunt without another, word. Soon enough letting go of your throat to grab your hips and steady them, pulling them towards him as he thrusted forward, hitting so deeply that you were seeing stars. There were no more words from you, just incoherent babbles and pleas as you barely caught your breath. You don't know how you were able to hold on this long to begin with, but your climax was approaching already. You couldn't help it, every touch from him made you react so strongly, so his constant pounding was just too much for you to handle without; "C-Cumming, cumming..!" You managed to sputter out, drool rolling down the side your lips. 

"That's right dear, nh- cum as many times as you please!" His usual announcer voice was beginning to show its cracks, he was just as far gone as you. But his hips were still going full force, slapping against your own in such an obscene manner- and not slowing any signs of stopping. "H-Hhaa.. too much, Caine..!" You yelped, you body was buzzing. 

He yanked your hips back down as you unconsciously began to pull away from him. "No, no no! You'll stay r-right here! Ah.." He grunted, dick still digging into the most sensitive parts of your overstimulated hole. "You can go longer, Y/N I know you can, that's it..!" He said with full confidence, completely drunk on your pussy. 

Your mind was going blank, you could only think about how good he felt.. so overwhelming good.. 

Your body locked up again, clamping down on his shaft and causing his hips to stutter a little at the sudden tightness. "Al-Almost there my dear, almost...!" His hips were moving like a blur, his hands bruising your hips with his grip as finally spilled himself into your cunt. "Ah.. there.. so nicely done.." He praised as his hips lazily  thrusted in and out of you. "How about another go my dear?" He said but you didn't respond, and patted your face like before you were taken by sleep. Exhaustion from this session and the aphrodisiacs combined was entirely too much for you. But the lazy and tired smile plastered on your sleeping face was also very telling.

"Oh my! Well, we better get this one cleaned up and ready for bed!" He had to ignore his cock which was still throbbing in between his legs, but now nicely tucked away in his pants. Not to worry, he'll make sure you pay for leaving him with this ache in between his legs, just as soon as he lets you recover from this little adventure. Annddd only three tallys on the board? He'd have to go easy on the aphrodisiacs next time! He scolded himself, as he carried you carefully to the restroom to clean you up himself.

After all, it most certainly won't be the last time you two go on this special little adventure. 

[itoshiexx]

scraps

synopsis: you give him all you have. it's time to collect the scraps before there is nothing left.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 797 | warnings: established relationship, angst

notes: do u guys remember the sae drabble i told y'all about some time ago? well, my depressive ass decided to post it now. i'm sorry in advance.

masterlist

the silence is deafening. it lingers thick and heavy in the air, nearly making you choke on nothing — or perhaps you’re choking on all the things you want to say that are stuck in your throat. you can feel your whole body trembling as the anxiety creeps further in, and you wrap your arms around yourself to try and bring some comfort. 

before, it was someone else’s arms that gave you peace, but lately, it has only been torment. 

it is why you’re standing in the living room of your shared apartment, staring at the teal eyes of itoshi sae while trying to hold back your own tears. it hurts. it hurts to look at him and remember the way he used one of your weaknesses against you in the argument you had minutes before, as if stabbing a wound that didn’t quite close properly, tearing the skin at the seams and turning it into a bigger, uglier, messier scar. 

you feel violated. 

perhaps you should have known better. maybe, if you listened to your mother, you wouldn’t have shown so much of yourself to sae, basking in a vulnerability that could only come back to bite you in the end. you gave him all the tools to hurt you where it stings most, and there was no one to blame but yourself for that. 

love made you foolish. you were tired. 

“i don’t think i can do this anymore, sae.” your voice is meek and hollow. only a shell of the person you used to be — the one that bled through its heart until all the life was drained. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, brow arched. defensive. ready to hurt you some more in case he became slightly uncomfortable. 

you breathe. in and out. in and out. rubbing your arm with your own hand, whispering to yourself under your breath that everything was going to be alright. even if it felt like nothing but that. 

“you… you’re hurting me, sae,” you manage to say with the lump in your throat. “you have been for a while. and i try to be better, but i… i can’t do this alone. and you’re not even trying.”

the tears welled up in your lash line start to fall again, and at this point, you know it’s useless to try and stop them. you also know they are the only thing that keep you sane, even if it feels like you’re losing your mind at every breath you take. 

sae doesn’t say anything, and you actually consider that a blessing. you don’t know how much more of his venomous words you can take before it destroys you completely from the inside out. something tells you his toxin has been spreading through your body for a while, although you only started to notice recently, when the fights got worse.

how long has he been killing you?

the weight of this question is enough to spike your anxiety once again, and you dig your nails on the skin of your arms to try to detain these overwhelming feelings, squeezing your eyes shut.

you nearly jump when you feel his strong arms circling your shoulders, bringing your head to his chest. you squirm and try to fight it — fight him —, but sae is stronger and more stubborn than you could ever be, and all you can do is cry harder and blow weak punches to his torso. 

“i’m sorry,” he says. it’s not the first time. the words make your stupid heart flutter with hope, but the hurt brings you back to reality. it’s not the first time, and he has done nothing to change for the better. he never fucking listens.

“you’re so mean,” you cry, ceasing the punches due to your lack of strength. you can barely keep standing, and you’re sure that his hold is the only thing keeping you from falling. “why are you so mean to me, sae?”

he’s silent again. you keep going. “i gave you my everything. i loved you with all i had. i-i opened up to you like never before, and you… you just…”

your stomach sinks. there aren’t even words to express what you’re feeling nor what he’s doing to you — the many ways he has been destroying what you spent years trying to put back together.

you were tired. 

in a final attempt to save what’s left of you, you raise your head from his chest to look deep into his aquamarine eyes. you want him to look at yours, too. 

“sae,” your voice is nothing more than a hollow whisper. you take a deep breath, garning all the strength and courage you can.

and then, you plea for the last time:

“please, give back what’s left of my heart.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[yuzurins]

# to tell you the truth

17 — meet me at the fair

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You couldn’t get Rin’s words out of your head. The feeling of guilt that he planted in your head didn’t budge at all, even with Reo’s reassurance. Were you missing the big picture here? Was there something that you just hadn’t recalled? Are you seriously as dense as Reo constantly says you are?

The long-awaited university fair was getting closer by the second. Despite countless days of preparation, the initial excitement you felt had evaporated, leaving only dread and confusion. It took all you had to simply drag yourself out of bed the morning of, half due to being terribly sleep-deprived and the other half being the sinking feeling of anxiety in your stomach.

“Y/N, can you stop making such a ruckus first thing in the morning, for god’s sake–“ Reo grumbles, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he languidly walks out into the apartment living room. “Eugh, you look disgusting.”

“Good morning to you too,” You’re practically seething with irritation, but Mr. Just-Woke-Up-2-Minutes-Ago was too drowsy to notice and spare even the slightest bit of consideration. “I can’t find my notes for the presentation, and I am so, so, close to running away and booking a flight to Korea.”

Reo scrunches his nose. “Why Korea?”

You roll your eyes and go back to scavenging through your belongings. The notes were literally in your bag yesterday night, so there was no way on Earth they would have found a way to escape. You made sure that they were secured—triple-checked!—in that cute Chiikawa folder that Isagi got you last Christmas. Gosh, there was no way you were going to be able to survive the day. Sure you knew enough to simply go off the top of your head since you were the one who researched and put together the project, but this was something that was getting marked, by the top professors too, and even worse, Itoshi Rin was going to be there and if you fucked up in front of him then you might as well simply die from embarrassment—

“Are these your notes?” Reo’s voice echoes from the kitchen, and you turn around abruptly to see him holding papers decorated with barely visible colour-coded notes and sticky tabs. He yawns, still drowsy from sleep, and next thing he knows is that you’re pouncing on him and yanking the sheets out of his hands.

“Jeez!” Reo yelps, but your glare shuts him right up. “Um–Y/N, are you okay?”

“No, not at all, thanks for asking.” You exhale, finally releasing the breath you were subconsciously holding the entire time. You briefly glance at Reo, the male blinking with confusion in response, before patting him on the shoulder and sprinting out the front door. “See you later!”

All that is heard from Reo is a soft “huh?” as you quietly close the door (because it was still early in the morning) without losing any haste.

And now you’re running down to campus, clutching that Chiikawa folder close to your chest.

Contrary to your spiralling thoughts, you were not late at all. In fact, you happen to be one of the first to arrive, so you decided to take a pitstop at the washroom first to fix yourself. No one would look presentable after running a full sprint against the wind at 6 in the morning, anyway.

You sigh exasperatedly as you spot the bane of your existence casually standing at your assigned table on your way back from the washroom. You take a moment to analyze said person before being forced to join him for the rest of the day. Rin was definitely taller and more muscular than he was in high school, and his bangs now flowed a bit past his nose, his jaw sharper with signs of maturing. You notice his prominent eyelashes fluttering as he focuses on reading something and envy that he was born with such pretty, long lashes. Despite his personality being dogshit, you couldn’t lie, the man himself was absolute eye candy—

Rin huffs as he spots you staring at him. Okay, never mind. He’s hideous.

Perhaps you were going delirious from the lack of sleep. Yeah, that must be it.

Having been caught drooling at the man you swore you hated, you awkwardly straightened your back and reluctantly walked over to the table. You look away as Rin narrows his eyes at you, practically burning holes into your face the entire time.

You settle for the spot right beside Rin, ignoring the glare that’s still on his face, and begin setting up your little panel for the day. When Chigiri arrives shortly after, the three of you begin rehearsing and confirming parts of your presentation. Like usual, there are a lot of disagreements with Rin, but something is off about him today. He doesn’t retort as harshly as he previously would have, and it actually looks like he thinks about what to say before responding. It’s insane–Itoshi Rin was being considerate. Was this because of the conversation you had yesterday? How was he acting so calm when you were losing your mind over what happened? You’re aware that you’re missing a huge piece of the puzzle here, but brush it off as a later problem as the sight of advancing freshmen pulls you back to reality.

Though for the record, he still hasn’t given your keychain back.

The fair goes smoothly (for the most part), until you and Rin begin bickering in front of the professors that were in charge of marking you.

“Itoshi-san, I think you must be mistaken. The Impressionist era was obviously inspired by works from the Romanticism era, which means—“

“This information does not mean anything regarding their contributions to society. Chronological order does not play a part in their significance or importance in history.”

The female professor on the right raises a brow at the two of you. The one on her left is furiously writing notes down on his clipboard.

“Sorry, can you repeat that again? There is a crucial difference between pieces created from a blank canvas and pieces created from one with a sketch.”

“You’re acting like Realism and the Renaissance didn’t exist.”

“I did not–”

“Well,” Chigiri brazenly interrupts, taking control of the situation before it gets out of hand. “That is the main point of the era of impressionism and how it had affected both art and literature. Seeing by the lovely example that my fellow group mates have reenacted, there is heavy debate about the similarities and differences of Impressionism and Romanticism.”

You tune Chigiri’s voice out as you grit your teeth and glare at Rin. He flashes you a quick glance before turning back to continue faking a smile at your superiors.

The hold this man had on you was insane. There was no way you were going to let him embarrass you in front of your professors again.

(Unfortunately, it happens once more when you guys argue about which was more impactful, literature or art.)

When it’s your turn for a quick lunch break, Chigiri eyes Rin for a while before he approaches. He’s been watching his friend the entire day now, concerned about what he might impulsively do.

He ponders on what to tell Rin and how to word it without accidentally provoking him. It’s obvious you’re his soft spot, so he instead decides to casually ask, “Penny for your thoughts?”

Rin grunts, intensely analyzing his fingers. Chigiri doesn’t push for an answer.

“I think I should talk to her.” He finally admits after a few minutes of silence. “That’s what you were going to tell me to do too, right?”

“Intuition is spot on,” Chigiri smiles. “Though maybe not always.”

Despite the obvious jab, Rin simply rolls his eyes in response.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing…”

Rin’s eyebrows jerk up and now it's his turn to question Chigiri. “What?”

Suddenly feeling awkward now, Chigiri purses his lips and looks anywhere but Rin’s face. “I know you’re usually a somewhat stoic person, especially in public, but your lack of response today is seriously throwing me off.”

“Might as well just say you like to pick fights,” Rin scoffs. “Stop acting like I’m the weird one. You are.”

“And he’s back.”

“Shut up.”

Chigiri’s about to ask Rin about you again, but you appear right then and there as if you were summoned on the spot. Originally you were sent off to get some rest before continuing with the fair, but somehow you came back looking worse than before.

Surprisingly, Rin initiates the conversation first. “You’re back early.”

“The place I wanted to go to was too packed to dine in,” You mumble, not giving much mind to his actions. “Would probably be better if I came back to eat here instead.”

Chigiri furrows his brows. “You workaholic. You knew you wouldn’t get an actual break if you came back here.”

You shrug. “Says who?”

It wasn’t supposed to be this big of a deal.

You’re first aware of the fact that you aren’t feeling well when Chigiri accidentally knocks a piece of paper onto the floor. It lands near your feet, and you bend down to pick it up for him, but a sharp pain in your head begins as you stand back up. The world goes black, and it takes you a bit to stabilize yourself again. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but it’s lasting way longer than it usually does. When colour finally returns, you see Chigiri in front of you uttering words of concern, except the fleeting pain in your head is overwhelming your ability to comprehend what he’s saying. You feel a hand on your shoulder, but it slips your mind that the only other person around is your ex-situationship-turned-rival-and-enemy.

Not wanting to ruin all the hard work that you all collectively put into these few days, you put on a small smile hoping to convince your group mates that you aren’t dying and can continue on with the arranged schedule. It was probably some after-effect from running against the wind first thing in the morning. You would just take medicine after you got home, sleep the pain away, and wake up feeling refreshed.

But the throbbing just doesn’t stop.

The second sign is when your body refuses to stomach your favourite onigiri. Typically, you’d be ravenous by lunchtime, especially if you haven’t had anything to eat after practically staying up the entire night. But your appetite is at the lowest it’s ever been (since becoming a university student) and you’re getting annoyed over the fact that you’re wasting food you would’ve wholeheartedly enjoyed any other day.

Well, a low appetite and seeing static for a few seconds doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s wrong.

Rin stares at you, an unreadable expression on his face, but it’s weird. There’s no aggression at all, nothing spiteful in the way his eyes studied you all over, as if trying to unravel your true feelings. He almost looks like he’s in pain. Maybe it’s concern? You shake the thought off as there would be no way on Earth Rin of all people would be concerned about your wellbeing.

Perhaps that was sign three that you were slowly becoming delirious.

“Itoshi, stop looking at me.” You bring yourself to say after continuous staring from Rin. It was really getting distracting now.

“You look terrible. Like you’re about to collapse any second now.” He admits, gaze flicking away from yours and the ground.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest and glare at the taller boy. “Okay? Thanks? Like I need to be reminded of that fact by every person I talk to today?”

“I refuse to work with a person who’s incapable of taking care of their wellbeing. You’re just going to drag us down.” Rin winces at how that came out. He was terrible at properly expressing his feelings. “No— I mean—“

You cut him off with a groan. “Well I’m sorry that you got stuck with such an incompetent group mate. As if you weren’t the one responsible for why I’m looking like this right now.” Your voice trails off at the end, regret already settling in prior to finishing your sentence.

“I didn’t mean–” A freshman running by shoves Rin and the push knocks him a step closer to you. He looks down at you from where he stands and exhales, “Sorry. Y/N, can we talk?”

You stare up at him blankly in response.

Frankly, you were too tired to care; It felt like nowadays all you two were doing was just going around in circles with no end. What made it worse was that your head was searing with pain now, and it was seriously getting impossible to ignore.

You get a quick glimpse of Rin’s glossy eyes and open your mouth to give him a proper response after it processes in your head that he was probably waiting for an answer. But you never end up letting your true feelings out of your throat, because suddenly you can’t feel the pain anymore, and the world goes black again.

Except this time, colour doesn’t return as soon as it did before.

You’re met with the comforting feel of warmth and the not-so pleasing smell of medicine when you finally regain your consciousness. It’s cozy, and you groan as you roll over in bed in hopes to find a new sleeping position.

The sound of footsteps gets louder as you hear a familiar voice harrumphs. “Y/N, I know you’re awake.”

So much for trying to sleep again.

“Nonono, don’t go back to sleep. You need to take your medicine first.” Reo nags, carefully feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. “And eat. You definitely haven’t had anything all day.”

You hum in acknowledgement, but make no real move to comply with his instructions. The bed was too comfortable, too warm, too safe. You never wanted to get out and offer yourself back up to the scary world of judgemental freshmen and strict professors.

Screw the fair. You just wanted a break.

“I rushed out of my meeting for this,” Reo sighs. “just to find you passed out in the medical office.”

“Sorry for worrying you, mom.” You mumble, stretching your limbs briefly in bed, having given up on trying to return to a state of slumber.

Two hands are hoisted towards you, one harbouring a few pills and the other a glass of water. “You seriously need to take care of yourself better. There is no way on Earth you’re going to survive living by yourself.”

You roll your eyes, and reluctantly sit up to take the medicine and water from Reo. “That’s why I have you, though.”

Reo frowns, but you can tell he’s probably holding back from bursting into tears. It’s only then you notice his complexion; the way his clothes were wrinkled from too much movement, the way his hair was blown in all directions from the wind, and the way he was anxiously picking at the skin around his fingernails from anxiety.

You quickly down the medicine and give him a small smile in hopes of easing at least a quarter of his worry. “I’m fine, Reo. Thank you, seriously, but it’s okay. It’s not like I’m dying or anything.”

He laughs, jokingly, in an attempt to conceal how he truly felt about this situation. “Yeah right. Just ‘a moment of weakness,’ like you always say.”

“Because it was.”

Reo’s the one rolling his eyes now, and a laugh comes out of you as you playfully push him. The two of you fall back into an easing silence before he speaks up again.

“The fair’s over for today. Chigiri and Rin covered for you and offered to cover the next two days too.”

Ah. So that’s what you were forgetting.

You jump out of bed immediately and almost tripped over your shoes from the sudden movement. Reo catches you, but keeps his hold on your waist as he stares at you for an explanation.

“I’m never showing my face here ever again, especially in front of that one!” You ramble, eyes widening in realization of what actually happened when you fainted. “He’s never going to let me hear the end of it! I can’t!”

“Wait, calm down–”

“But if I don’t show up, then that’s going to look even worse! He’s going to think I’m slacking and weak and incompetent and then rat me out to all my favourite profs and sabotage me and spread rumours and knock me off the leaderboard entirely and–”

Reo interrupts you as he brings you back onto your feet. “Is that all you’re worried about? What Rin thinks of you?”

“I–” You start, but no words manage to form. “Oh.”

He smiles, before turning around, pushing aside the curtains around your bed, and walking away.

“Wait, are you going home? Hold up! Wait for me!"

note: lol i started using capitals when writing i hope this isn't too trippy,,, THANK YOU @kitorin FOR BETA READING I LOVE U <3

pairing ∗ itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis — all you wanted was a peaceful and productive uni life, but despite your pleas, your plans start crumbling when the star of the football team, itoshi rin, begins to beat you in every aspect possible. as you confront the inevitable, what happens when you uncover secrets behind an unforgettable event from the past?

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 36

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: we made it to friday so yall can eat up.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hold back another yawn, your cheeks puffing out as you flutter your lashes. Odin tilts his head as he props his chin into his hand. He grins, "I've worn you out."

"No, I..." you try to roll the fatigue off your shoulders, "I'm okay."

"Don't trouble yourself," he stands, "dear, you go get some sleep. I've kept you a while."

You rise hesitantly as he comes around the desk, "I don't mind."

"Oh, you say that a lot, perhaps you should mind," he turns you to the door with hand on your back, "it isn't so bad to say what you want. Or don't want."

"I wasn't..."

"I am not reprimanding you. I am giving you advice," he opens the door, "but I expect no one's ever listened when you did say so."

You look down meekly and shrug, "well, I could... speak up."

"And you blame yourself," he says, "you deserve kindness. Especially from you." He rubs your back and nudges you ahead, "go on, I won't keep you any longer."

"Thank you, Odin," you smile, almost teary-eyed. You're just tired.

"Good night, dear," he says as you step into the hallway.

You turn back to return the nicety. He leans on the door as he eases it towards the frame, pausing before he closes it fully, "should you fancy another chocolate, you know where to find them."

You thank him again and he shuts the door. You turn down the hallway and stop short. You're not alone. Mr. Laufeyson has a hand on the doors to your room as he leans on one foot, a toe dug into the rug as he narrows his sights at you.

"There you are," he greets curtly.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you scurry forward, "I'm sorry, I was only--"

"With my father, yes, I can hear," he interjects, "you sound like you get along."

"I... I think so. He was very nice."

"Was he?" He scoffs and twists a door handle, swinging the door open, "get inside."

You bow your head and swiftly enter. He follows, the lock clicking loudly behind you. You turn and hug yourself as you watch him pace before the doors.

"He invited me-- I didn't--"

"Yes, yes, my father is demanding, don't I know it," he snips, "you think I am unhappy because of that?"

"I don't... I don't know, Mr. Laufeyson," you murmur.

"I am not unhappy," he insists as he stops, jabbing a finger upwards, "I was only waiting a rather long time for you to appear."

"I'm sorry," you repeat.

"My room is the next, to the right as you emerge," he explains, "so it isn't very far." He shrugs and tucks his hands into his pockets. You notice his shoulders, how he holds them rigidly. He's tense. "Did you encounter anyone else, then? My brother?"

"No," you shake your head vehemently, "only Odin. Your father, sir."

"Hm, fortunate," he remarks, "I shouldn't have left you but I thought my mother would keep a close eye."

"She did, I only... was tired and came up here."

"Tired," he nods, "certainly, me too."

You stand in silence. His tone softens with his last words, as if you can hear the weariness in him. You can see it in his eyes. After all, he did drive for hours.

He exhales and strolls forward. You move aside as he nears the foot of the bed and sits. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. He runs his hands over his face and groans.

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his legs. He slumps there, silently glaring at the floor. If something is wrong, he refuses to say it. Maybe it's this place. You know well how home can fill you with dread.

You move slowly around, hesitant and unsure. You near the side of the bed. He doesn't flinch as your weight dips into the mattress. You don't know what you're doing, you're not sure if you should.

You walk on your knees across the bed and place your hands on his shoulders. You feel the tension wrought in him. You squeeze and knead, uncertain. You never done this before.

He sits up but you keep your hands on him.

"What are you doing?" He growls as he cranes his head.

"You uh... a... massage?" You offer dumbly, "you were in the car all day and... I thought."

"Mmm," he turns forward again, letting his elbows once more rest on his thighs, "you may go on.”

You shift, trying to get a better hold on him. You feel the tightness nestling in the muscles along his neck. You follow the natural grooves of his muscles with your fingertips, encouraged only by his groans 

“Pet…” his voice is as weak as you've ever heard it.

You let up, tickling down so he shivers, then quickly work the knots again. The busy work of your hands keep your nerves from boiling over. He puffs out and lifts his head, pushing it back.

“Where has this come from?” He asks in a wisp.

“I… don't know,” you answer honestly.

He straightens and picks at his collar. He unbuttons his shirt and sheds it as you withdraw your touch. He reveals his bare skin and jostles on the mattress, planting himself firmly.

You touch him again. His warmth seeps into you as goosebumps prickle his skin. The tender calm of the moment has you speechless.

“Yesss,” he purrs, once more bowing his head. “Pet…” he grips his thighs.

You run your fingertips further down his back and drive your thumbs into the muscles along his sides. He growls and you ease up, scared you might have hurt him. He reaches back, pointing over his shoulder.

“Like that,” he directs, “I can take it.”

You obey. You aren't used to be so rough. Everything you do is with a degree of fear. Your hands are never forceful or firm.

He sighs and snarls. You drag your hands up and back down again. He shivers again and stands suddenly, frightening you. You sit back on your heels and stare at him.

“Did I…”

“You,” he wiggles a finger at you.

“What?”

He shakes his head and steps towards the bed. He beckons you closer. You inch forward on your knees. He grabs your blouse, quickly pulling it out of your skirt. He peels it up and you barely get your arms up before they're tangled in the fabric.

He strips away the fabric and snakes his arms around you to unhook your bra. You kneel before him paralysed as he undresses you to the waist. His eyes are smoky as he takes you in.

“Down,” he points to the mattress, “on your stomach.”

You lower yourself down as you slide back. You bend your arms up around your head and put your cheek to the blanket. He skirts around and climbs over the side, straddling you beneath him. He rests his knuckles between your shoulder blades as you curl your fingertips against the covers.

He pushes down into the muscles and you squeak. He leans his weight into his tending, tracing his thumbs down your flesh. You gasp as you feel tension slake from your muscles, tightness you never even noticed.

His long fingers explore your naked back, framing your hips as he kneads. You mewl, unable to stem the release as it rolls from your throat. He snickers and keeps his hands working.

You close your eyes, melting under his touch. He is much better than you, more confident. He must have done this before, maybe with his wife. Maybe it was even romantic, with candles and rose petals. 

He tickles along your sides and sets his hands on the mattress. He lowers himself over you and presses against your bottom, chafing the raw skin beneath your skirt. You moan as his hard length rest firmly against you.

He brings a hand under your chin, lifting your head as he keeps it twisted. He angles to press his lips to yours. He kisses you sloppily as his other arm hooks beneath you. He gropes your bare chest, his thumb flicking over your budded nipple.

“Pet,” he parts with a groan before once more devouring you.

He rocks atop you as his breath hitches. Your heart beats wildly as you brace the bed, arching awkwardly to meet his hungry kisses. His lips trails along your cheek and down the side of your neck. He nuzzles your neck and bites into the muscles along your shoulder. You cry out at the pinch.

“I could have you just like this,” he breathes against your skin, his hips still tilting. “Is that what you want, hm? Is that your trick, pet?”

“Trick?” You eke out, “what do you–”

He lifts himself and flips you over harshly. You bounce on your back and yipe. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, “what did you and my father speak of, him?”

His muscles pull taught under his skin straining in his chest as he leans over you. You whimper and squirm, kicking your feet as his grip aches in your wrists. What have you done?

“Mr. Laufeyson, please, I wasn’t… we didn’t…”

“Tell me,” he demands.

You bat your lashes, “he… he gave me some chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” He echoes derisively.

“Yeah…” you croak, “he… he asked me what music I like. And if I read–” your voice crackles.

“And what did he say of me?” He hisses.

“N-nothing,” you sniff, “I swear.”

“And what did you say of me?”

“Nothing,” you repeat. “Please.”

He narrows his eyes and curls his lips, “hm, I believe you. You’re not clever enough to lie that well.”

He lets you go and sits up on his knees. He looks down on you, his eyes slowly trailing down to your exposed chest. You lay, paralysed and prone. A knock comes at the door, jolting both of you.

“Darling,” Frigga’s voice wafts through, “is everything alright?”

Your eyes round as Laufeyson scowls. He shakes his head and huffs, pushing off of you. He climbs off the bed and swipes up your blouse, tossing it at you.

“Get rid of her,” he hisses.

You grab the shirt and throw it over your head. You stand as he retreats into the bathroom, closing the door only halfway. You go to the door as you tug the blouse straight.

“Everything’s alright,” you say through the wood.

“Are you sure, dear?” She tries the handle.

You peek back and gulp. You flip back the lock and push down on the handle, inching back the door until you can see through, “yeah, I was getting changed and… I couldn’t find something. Think I forgot it.”

“Oh, well, if you need, you can always borrow from me,” she offers.

“Nothing important,” you insist, “thanks. I’m just about to lay down.”

“Of course, honey, so sorry to disturb.”

“No worries,” you smile and gently shut the door. Your hand lingers and you gently turn the lock back into place.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Laufeyson emerges, “that was rather convincing.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur, “I wouldn’t lie to you–”

“Certainly you wouldn’t,” he sneers.

You flutter your fingers at your side and teeter on your toes. He goes back to the bed as he undoes his fly. You furrow your brow and stare past him at the wall. What is he doing?

He drops his pants and kicks them away, “well, undress.”

Your heart leaps and thumps violently. Your hands tremble as you lift the blouse again. You let it drift to the floor and touch the top of your skirt. Is he… going to do it? Are you? Both of you?

You look down, opening and closing your mouth as your jaw threatens to lock up. Your ears feel ready to pop. You feel along your skirt and unzip the back. It slackens and you wiggle free of the fabric. You roll down your panties and watch them fall to your ankles. You step out of the fabric, only in your stockings as the bed frame softly creaks.

You dip a finger under the top of your thigh-highs and Laufeyson growls. You peek up, frozen, and find him watching you. He’s completely naked, his hand around his dick as he tilts his head.

“Keep those on,” he commands, “come here.”

You stand straight and pad towards him. You reach forward tentatively and climb up onto the bed. He gestures you closer and you stretch out next to him. He curls an arm around you and settles you in.

He drags his hand from his arousal and trails over your thigh, along your hip, and up your side. You quiver as he cups your chest and leans in to kiss you. He fondles you, tweaking and squeezing, groaning into your mouth as his tongue delves further.

He draws a line up your chest and across your shoulder. He brushes down your arm and takes your hand. He pulls it toward him and circles it around his length. He snarls as he squeezes your grasp tight on him, guiding it up then down. As he lets go, you continue to pump him.

He continues to smother you as his fingers tickle the vee of your pelvis. He dips down and touches the patch of hair there. He urges his fingers between your folds, sliding along the slickness gathering there. You squeak as he plays with you.

You work your hand in tandem with him. You match his rhythm as he toys with you, swirling then pushing his fingers back, only to spread your wetness around. Each time his fingers poke back, he gets closer to your entrance.

You lift your leg, opening yourself to him as a storm brews in you. You shudder as you grip him tighter. He groans again, the rocky noise sending a thrill through you. He rubs you fast and glides back again. He pokes against you, bending his fingers and dips a fingertip into you.

You gasp and pull away from his mouth. He catches the back of your head in his hand and eases you down to your back. He stays close, leaning over you, as slips his finger in deeper. You whine and he hushes you.

“Pet, relax,” he coos, pulling his finger in and out. Your bite down on your lip, your hand still as the shock of his intrusion stuns you. “Does that feel nice?”

You can’t speak. You don’t know. It feels… different. Tingly and hot but cold at the same time. He presses the heel of his hand against you, pressure flurrying beneath his touch. He rocks his hand as you splay, your grasp slipping from him and circling around his wrist.

“Pet…” he presses his nose to your temple, breathing down your cheek, “don’t tell me you’re going to cum?”

You whimper and curl your fingers tighter. He shakes his hand and you sink into the mattress. Breath mewls escape your lips.

“Tell me then,” he slithers, “tell me when you cum.”

Your eyes roll back and your head lolls. You puff out through a pout. Your chest thrums and your core swells. You feel the peak ahead, just within reach. Your thighs clench and tremble, the muscles uncoiling all at once as you cry out.

“Tell me…” he growls.

You choke as you spasm, “cum– I’m— cumming.”

“Yes,” he coaxes as he fucks you with his finger, “yes, pet, say it.”

“Cumminggggg,” your voice unravels, “oh–”

“Say it, say my name,” he growls.

“Mr.--”

“Loki,” he demands, “say it…”

“Loki!” you whine, “Lo-ki…”

“Mmm, yes, what a good little pet,” he drags his nose around your cheek, “my pet, yes? All mine.��