#really really enjoying him in this final stretch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jarofstyles · 17 hours ago

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Benefits

Hi lovebugs! This can be read as a standalone, but this is a 3 parter. The first part will be put up here but the next two are Patreon exclusives if you’re interested. (Part two is up now) I hope you guys love it.

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role.

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him.

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met. "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine.

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh. His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

"You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly.

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin. Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.” Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her. She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so. Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

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revelboo · 17 hours ago

Note

if you take requests my soul for megatron recieving oral 🙏 if not dw about it + your writing is really good, the characterisation is stellar

After all the BS I put him through, he does deserve some fun (which he will get eventually after all the drama)

Everything Is Alright scenario pack

18+ Scenarios mass displaced mechs 🌶️

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

Megatron

• Shifting in his sprawl, one corner of his mouth twitches into an indulgent smile as his servos ruffle through your hair. Likes the way you look kneeling between his spread thighs, your cheek against his thigh waiting for permission. Behaving. Mostly. Swallowing a growl when those soft fingers stroke over his plating, dip into the sensitive seams at the inside of his thigh. But maybe he’s made you wait long enough?

• “Alright, pet,” he rumbles, shuddering when you run the tip of your tongue along the seam inside his thigh, his deep voice strained and lovely. Teasing him because you love to see the mighty warlord come undone under your hands and mouth. And he finally frees his spike, optics half shuttered as he watches you wrap your hands around him, thumb sliding along the underside. Biting back a smile when he groans as you trace a seam with your tongue before taking the head into your mouth.

• Venting raggedly as his head falls back, his servos thread into your hair as that wet, little mouth works his spike. Do you have any idea how hard it is to not buck his hips? To not force you to swallow more of him? “You can take more,” he growls, hips lifting slightly as your head slowly bobs to take him, that wet suction almost too much coupled with those soft hands gripping him, stroking. His other hand grips the arm of his throne as he grits his denta. “Such a good, pet.” He groans, shallowly rocking his hips when your tongue slides against him. And then his servos cup the back of your head as he overloads, feeling you swallow as much as you can before you pull away with a gasp. Reaching to pull you into his lap, his optics narrow as you wipe your chin with a thumb and lick it clean. Primus, you’re amazing.

Starscream

• Watching you squirm as he catches your wrists and pins them over your head, his head tips to study the way you look like that. Helpless and at his mercy, trusting yourself to him. Shifting to more fully cage you under him, he uses a knee to nudge your thighs further apart and settles himself against you, spike sliding against you and finding you’re already so wet for him. The other two may touch you, claim you, but you’re his. You’ve been his from the start. Always will be. “This is mine.”

• “Yours,” you agree as the head of his spike slides against you again. Teasing both of you as his servos keep your arms pinned over your head. Sometimes he ties your wrists, sometimes he just holds them in one big hand. Know he likes being in control, dominating and you’re okay with stroking that ego of his among other things. “Need you.” And he finally buries himself inside you in one deep stroke. That familiar spike stretching you as his hips buck against you to make you moan.

• Keeping his thrusts slow and deliberate, his wings flare slightly. Because lost in the feel of your body under his, he can forget about everything else. Let the world narrow down until it’s only the two of you finding pleasure in each other. Taking his time finding that angle that makes you gasp and whimper as he enjoys the way your wet heat grips his spike. Nothing else matters but this moment. You.

Soundwave

• Hadn’t even heard him sneak up behind you, but you feel him, big hands on your hips, encouraging you down on your hands and knees. Something about the fact that the stoic, gentle Soundwave loves taking you this way, hard and fast, strings you tight. And you don’t need any urging to lift your hips for him in invitation. Wanting to feel his spike stretch you. For him to lose control inside you.

• How do you know just what he needs? Kneeling behind you, he grips your hips and sheaths himself with a tonal groan. Managing to keep the first few thrusts slow, but then you push back to meet him and he’s yanking you back as he pounds into you. Driven by the frantic urge to claim you, breed you. And there’s the overwhelming urge to shift the plating protecting his spark, to spark you again. Would you let him? Can’t be as gentle as he’d like as your need spills into him, drugging him with your emotions and his own desires.

• Bucking back against him, his servos tighten on your hips so hard you know there’ll be bruises. And then he’s thrusting harder, spike driving deep before you feel him release inside you and he drapes himself against your back. Don’t hear the soft click of his mask retracting, but you feel his denta grip your shoulder to hold you in place as he braces himself over you on a hand, the other sliding over your belly. Not even bothered that he left you behind in his urgency, because you know he’s not nearly done with you. He never is. Hear him groan right before his plating shifts at your back and his spark snares you, then you’re coming apart as he begins moving inside you again. Knowing exactly what he’s doing as you rock back to meet his sharp thrusts, wanting it.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #soundwave #megatron #starscream

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evergumi · 1 day ago

Text

M. FUSHIGURO ⋆ no more running.

pairing ⋆ guilty!megumi fushiguro x reader

summary ⋆ megumi cant be close to you anymore at all. hes avoiding you, and you dont know why. it hurts. missing your friendship, you are determined to find out why hes doing this.. ending in a unique relationship

warnings ⋆ fluff, fluff, fluff !! one sooort of spicy kiss heh :P also lowkey angsty.. poor gumi thinks hes hurt you but you prove him wrong ! we love y/n <3

wc ⋆ 2.56k words

a/n ⋆ awww the cuties ! i love gumi sm omg my adorable boyfieee, anyways enjoy ! i lowkey dont like this buttt :((

the warm glow of the setting sun stretched across the training grounds as you and nobara exchanged quick strikes, the air sharp with the rhythm of your sparring. you moved effortlessly, feeling the rush of energy, but something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. megumi stood at the edge of the field, his posture tense, eyes fixed on you. you knew exactly where his gaze was: the scar on your neck, a permanent reminder of that day.

you couldn’t help the tightness in your chest. you’d never asked him about it, never pushed him, but you knew it weighed on him—that day. the day he was trapped inside his own body. the day he killed two people he cared about the most. the day he hurt you.

"hey, fushiguro," you called out, your voice light, teasing, but there was an edge to it that betrayed your curiosity. you paused mid-motion, turning toward him with a grin as nobara glanced at you knowingly, heading toward her water bottle where yuji was standing. "wanna spar?"

for a moment, megumi didn’t respond. his eyes stayed on you, but they were unreadable, heavy. his jaw clenched. when he finally spoke, his words were quiet. "no thanks," he muttered, his gaze flickering to the scar on your neck, then quickly darting away. "i’m… busy."

you bit your lip, sensing the guilt in his tone. it was almost like he was afraid to be near you, and that stung more than you expected. he’d been distant these past few days, but maybe it was just a one-time thing. maybe he really was busy. you smiled, brushing it off.

"busy with what?" you asked softly, the teasing edge in your voice. "you don’t seem to be occupied, fushi."

"with—uh. itadori. me and itadori were heading to the… uh… store," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

you frowned, your eyes shifting to where yuji was chatting with nobara, totally unaware of the tension between you and megumi. he was holding out a towel for her, laughing as she tossed her empty water bottle at his head. you smiled softly at the sight but then turned back to megumi.

"yuji… seems busy with his own things," you murmured, watching him shift under your gaze. his eyes avoided yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the bead of sweat rolling down his temple. maybe it was just sixteen-year-old-boy things, you thought, trying to convince yourself. but it still stung a little.

"oi! itadori! get the hell over here!" megumi called out, his voice rough, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough. yuji scrambled over with a pout, and megumi grabbed him by the collar, pulling him along hurriedly as they left.

you frowned after them, a strange mix of confusion and something else stirring in your chest. why was he avoiding you? why did it feel like he was running away from something that had nothing to do with the store?

this wouldn’t be the last time. over the next few days, you’d start to notice little things. his avoidance grew clearer. texts would go unanswered for hours, or when they were answered, they felt curt. and every time you tried to ask him to hang out, there was always an excuse.

you decided to reach out again, despite the growing frustration in your chest.

you hey fushiguro! wanna hang out today? maybe watch tangled in my dorm for the millionth time?

you smirked to yourself. tangled was your favorite movie, and you knew megumi wouldn’t be able to resist.

megumi can't, got stuff to do. sorry.

you frowned at your screen, your grip tightening imperceptibly, your smile fading.

you oh, okay. well, tell me if you change your mind!

megumi yeah, sure. maybe.

you stared at the message for a while, the vague response gnawing at you. megumi had always been blunt, but he never seemed to shy away from hanging out before. so why now? what was he busy with?

you walked to the dojo early, hoping to catch megumi before his training session. as you approached, you saw him deep in conversation with yuji and nobara, laughing about something—you couldn’t hear exactly what, but their laughter seemed genuine. when you stepped into the room, the conversation stilled for a moment.

megumi didn’t turn to greet you. he just nodded quickly, his eyes darting back to the floor. yuji, on the other hand, waved at you, totally oblivious to the tension.

"hey, you finally here?" yuji grinned. "we’re just talking about our next mission."

"yeah…" you said softly, but your eyes flickered back to megumi. "hey, fushi, wanna train?"

he hesitated. too long of a hesitation. then, he mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch.

"um, maybe later. i think i have a… thing," he said, trailing off before turning back to yuji.

your heart sank. thing? was he just brushing you off again?

you hey. you still up for tangled? we don’t have to do that if you're not comfortable, of course! i just want to hang out.

megumi no, sorry.

you oh. okay, ig.

megumi sorry. just been busy. i didn’t mean to make it awkward.

you it’s fine. just… if you don’t want to talk, it’s okay. no need to make excuses.

you stared at the messages for a long time. the words felt like a punch to the gut, but at the same time, they made your chest ache. what did you even do? was he avoiding you because of that day? the day when he hurt you? was he punishing himself for it? or was he just… shutting you out?

you walked down the hallway toward the dorms after sparring, your body still buzzing from the fight. nobara had gone off to take a shower, and yuji was probably somewhere being loud, as usual. but tonight, something felt different. you couldn’t shake the feeling that megumi had been avoiding you more than usual.

as you passed the common area, you noticed the dim light spilling from the small courtyard outside. curiosity pulled you in that direction. the quiet night was starting to settle, and everyone else was winding down. there, leaning against the stone wall of the courtyard, stood megumi.

he didn’t notice you at first. his shoulders were tense, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his gaze was lost in the shadows. he looked almost… distant, like he was trying to escape from something. but you knew—you knew—he wasn’t running from the world outside. he was running from you.

you paused for a moment, your thoughts racing. then, despite every instinct telling you to leave it alone, you stepped forward. gravel crunched softly beneath your shoes as you approached.

"fushiguro," you called, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

he flinched like your words had startled him. slowly, he turned his head, but not enough to meet your gaze right away. his eyes lingered on the ground, and when they finally lifted, they didn’t seem to focus on you. they flicked up, then down again.

"hey," you said again, trying to keep your voice steady. but there was something shaky in it you couldn’t hide. "are you gonna keep avoiding me?"

there was a long silence. then, he spoke. his voice was low, strained. "i'm not avoiding you."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "really? 'cause it sure seems like you are."

megumi shifted uncomfortably against the wall, his gaze drifting away again. "it’s not like that."

you could feel your frustration building. every time you tried to reach him, he shut you out. you stepped closer, standing just a few feet away. your voice grew sharp.

"then what is it? why do you keep pushing me away?"

he hesitated, his jaw tightening, then finally met your eyes. guilt and something darker swirled in his expression. the same guilt he’d been carrying since that day. the day he hurt you.

"come on, fushiguro! this is stupid! why are you doing this? don’t you realize it hurts me?" your voice rose, frustration spilling over.

his gaze flickered to your neck, the scar still fresh, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something. but instead, he stepped back, his shoulders tensing.

"god, just—just shut up!" he hissed.

you stopped talking immediately. the words stuck in your throat.

"don’t you realize? i can’t do this anymore!" he exploded, his eyes wild with frustration. "i can’t just—just watch you knowing what i did!"

and in that moment, you knew. he wasn’t just avoiding you. he was fighting something inside himself.

you took a deep breath, stepping forward, your pulse quickening. "fushiguro… i…"

but before you could say anything else, he was already walking away, his steps quick and purposeful. leaving you standing in the cold silence.

you stood there, the words still hanging between you, unspoken, unanswered.

and then you moved.

one step, then another, quickening your pace until you were right behind him, fingers brushing against his shoulder.

"don’t touch me!" he snapped.

you recoiled, hurt flashing across your face. so, he had yelled not once, not twice—but now three times. at you. you couldn't breathe, the question on your lips strangled by confusion and pain.

"what did i do wrong?" you whispered, almost to yourself.

megumi glanced away, a sharp look of anguish in his eyes. "i can’t. i can’t do it. i can’t come near you, talk to you, touch you, look at you."

you frowned up at him, confused. "can’t do… why?"

"i can’t go a day without thinking about what i did to you!" he hissed, voice breaking. "i see that scar, and i beat myself up over it. i… i can’t look at it. i can’t even spar with you. i can't… even stand my hand being this close to yours."

without thinking, you reached out, gently taking his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. you looked him in the eyes, your gaze tender. "look," you murmured, cupping his calloused hand with your own. "is this hurting me in any way?"

he didn’t answer.

you brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with it. "am i hurt?" you whispered, eyes closing for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. you felt his thumb twitch as it brushed against your skin. you leaned into it, your breath catching. "am i hurt, fushiguro?"

you stood there, the weight of his hand in yours grounding you, as the silence stretched between you. his thumb brushed against your scar, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles were taut as if he were about to break. you could see the guilt clouding his eyes—heavy, suffocating. you knew what he was thinking. he was terrified.

"you're not hurting me," you whispered, your voice quiet but steady. you brought his hand to your cheek, pressing it gently against your skin. "see? you're not hurting me, megumi."

he didn’t say anything at first, but his breath hitched at the touch. his eyes flickered between yours, searching for something—maybe an answer, maybe reassurance. his thumb gently caressed your jaw, and you felt your heart race in your chest.

he opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. instead, his gaze shifted to your neck—the scar that was still so fresh, the scar he couldn't bring himself to look at. you watched his jaw tighten, his gaze drifting downward like it always did when he was avoiding something he couldn’t confront.

you took a small step closer, your fingers brushing over the back of his hand, encouraging him, urging him to let go. "megumi," you whispered again, this time a little more gently, "please… look at me."

his chest rose and fell with every shaky breath, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to pull away. but he didn’t. he stayed, standing there in the quiet of the night, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

slowly, carefully, his hand moved to your neck. his thumb brushed lightly over your scar, and you could feel him flinch, just a little. but then he stopped, his hand hovering over your skin, like he was afraid to touch it too much. you gently guided his fingers down your neck, showing him that you weren’t afraid.

"megumi," you whispered, your voice softer this time, "i’m not afraid."

his gaze finally met yours, and you saw it—the hesitation, the guilt, the regret all etched in his features. but underneath all of that, you saw something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart ache.

"i’m so sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't… i can’t stand seeing it. what i did to you…"

you shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. "megumi, you’re not the only one hurting. but i’m not afraid of you. i never was. i never will be."

he swallowed, his hand trembling in yours. he was close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, could hear the soft hitch of his breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your other hand to his face, cupping it gently. "look at me," you whispered again, your voice barely audible. "please."

he did. and when his eyes met yours, everything else seemed to fade away. there were no more words, no more hesitation. just the soft, steady rhythm of your breaths as your faces inched closer.

he leaned in, your lips brushing against his. it was tentative at first, just the barest of touches, as if he were still afraid that he might hurt you. but when you didn’t pull away, when you leaned into him, the kiss deepened. his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his other hand sliding to your waist, holding you as if you might disappear.

you let out a soft gasp as you melted into him, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if you both needed this, needed to feel the connection, to feel the warmth of each other’s presence after so much distance. his lips were soft against yours, and you could taste the mixture of fear and longing that had been building between you for days.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you rested your forehead against his, your heart still racing in your chest. you could feel his pulse under your fingertips, his breathing shallow as he tried to steady himself.

"megumi," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "you’re not the only one who’s been hurting. but i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

his eyes were wide, almost searching, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. his thumb gently traced your jaw, his touch tender now, as if he were finally allowing himself to feel what had been building inside of him.

"i’m sorry," he whispered again, his voice cracking with emotion. "i didn’t want to hurt you. i don’t ever want to hurt you again."

you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "you won’t," you said simply. "i'll say it again. i’m not afraid of you, megumi. i never was."

the tension between you had finally broken. and in its place was something deeper—something real, something raw. you didn’t need words anymore. all you needed was him, and you knew, in that moment, that he needed you too.

a/n ⋆ nonnie ! ty for this req, this was so fun to write ! i honestly had trouble at the start butttttt omg the fluffy moments near the end made my heart melttt <33 i hope this was what you were looking for !

i heart the way megumi cares soooo much for yn but just wont admit it :( he literally says it but so indirectly yk ?? like he toooootally doesnt care..

thank you for reading, ily ! lmk if you wanna be tagged and remember, reqs are always open loves !

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st44rkeys · 21 hours ago

Text

Mr & Mrs Starkey

pairings: assassin rafe cameron x assassin fem reader

warnings: strong language, mention of organ/drug/human trafficking, explicit content

wc: 19,558

a/n: enjoyy<3

part 1, part 2, part 3

taglist: @highladyofhogwarts @marcibv @rafeskai @psychocitylights @niaizzy1623 @fuckeduppotato @drewwhor

“Bienvenidos a Cayo Santa María, Cuba. Disfrute su estancia" the guard at the cruise terminal greets with a warm smile. The sun is high casting a golden light over the vibrant port, and the air smells faintly of saltwater and tropical fruit. You return his smile with a polite nod as the crowd moves around you.

Rafe’s hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his posture relaxed as he gently guides you through the bustling scene. The rhythmic clink of jewelry and the murmur of travelers blend with the occasional burst of laughter from nearby tourists. He pulls you a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as you step together toward the pier, the sound of footsteps quickening with every step.

“Gracias" Rafe says

You roll your eyes “Is that the only Spanish word you know?” you ask amusement creeping into your voice.

Rafe scrunches his nose, a half smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances down at you. “Is it that obvious?”

You can’t help but snort, the sound cutting through the background noise of laughter and chatter. “Well yeah. You’ve said ‘gracias’ a thousand times and nothing else.”

You and Rafe stand side by side, both staring around in disbelief. The pictures hadn’t prepared you for how beautiful the place really was. The beach was close, just a short walk away, and it was packed with people kids running around, laughing, and shouting as the waves crashed on the shore. The scent of saltwater mixed with the faint smell of sunscreen and tropical fruit. On the other side, a green market stretched along the street, filled with colorful stalls selling fresh fruit, spices, and handmade goods makimg your mouth water.

The air was thick with the sounds of bargaining and chatter, the atmosphere warm and inviting. Down the road, at the end of it all, a neighborhood of stunning villas lined the coast. The white walls of the homes stood out against the lush green landscape, with large windows offering perfect views of the beach and ocean.

You felt a wave of longing, wishing this wasn’t a mission. It almost felt like you could just forget everything and enjoy the moment.

“It’s so pretty" you turn your head to take it all in. Rafe who’d been silently watching the scene, finally looks over at you his gaze softening just a little. “Yeah"

Rafe unlocks his phone, scanning the address he was sent. His fingers move quickly over the screen as he pulls up Google Maps and studies the directions. He looks up his eyes moving across the neighborhood perfectly manicured lawns, palm trees swaying in the breeze and says “At least we’ll be living good.”

You follow his gaze, taking in the amazing scene yourself, and a small cheer rises silently in your chest. You grab the suitcases without a second thought and head up the path. Rafe of course, ends up carrying most of the bags, the weight not bothering him in the least.

As you walk ahead the sound of your steps on the pavement fills the air, but Rafe’s attention drifts back to you. His eyes flicker over the way your shorts hug your figure, something in him tightening at the sight. He knows he shouldn’t be looking he knows better but it’s hard not to.

Clearing his throat, he quickly forces his gaze to the path ahead his jaw clenching slightly as he tries to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up on him.

As you enter the neighborhood the beauty of the houses becomes even more striking clean lines, lush landscaping. The people here seem to be constantly aware of their surroundings and as you walk through, most stop what they’re doing to watch you. The looks range from sharp, envious stares to bored glances, as if they’re trying to figure out who you are or why you’re here.

As you approach the front door you stop noticing a security guard coming toward you, eyes trained on you both.

You exchange a quick knowing look with Rafe. He sighs clearly irritated. “Of course these rich idiots have guards" he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes.

As the guard gets closer, Rafe takes off his sunglasses, sliding them into his pocket with ease. His expression shifts, and he straightens up slightly adopting a more neutral respectful posture. “Hello"

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Starkey?”

You give a subtle nod flashing your most practiced smile. The guard mirrors the smile, his expression relaxing, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys.

“Here are your keys" he says smoothly handing them over. “If you need anything during your stay we’re available 24/7”

Rafe glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “24/7 huh? That’s nice” he says, a dry tone in his voice. “You’re working hard.”

The guard chuckles lightly. “It’s my job sir” he replies his smile never fading.

As the keys dangle from your hand you unlock the door and step inside, the soft rolling of the suitcases following immediately behind you.

You smile despite yourself as you take in the space. It’s small but there’s a certain charm to it. The bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all that occupy the space but it’s more than enough. The walls made of polished wood lend a vintage feel to the room, and the soft scent of cedarwood fills the air.

Your eyes fall on the bed in the center of the room massive and inviting. The sight of it makes you pause. Scattered across the bed are delicate petals, forming the faint outline of initials yours and Rafe’s, well Jane and Drew.

Rafe snorts

You step further into the room, your eyes wandering over the surroundings. The balcony catches your attention the sliding door leading to it wide open. Stepping toward it you find two chairs with a small table between them. The view outside isn’t much, but it’s peaceful.

You glance back toward Rafe, who’s standing just inside the door his posture as rigid as ever. He hasn’t said much since you arrived, his eyes scanning the room with the same detachment he always wears.

“Not bad" you say, breaking the silence

His gaze flickers toward you, then quickly back to the room, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “It’ll do" he mutters

With a single knowing glance exchanged between the two of you, the atmosphere shifts. There’s an unspoken agreement and in an instant your instincts take over. You start scanning the corners of the room for any hidden cameras, eyes narrowing as you quickly assess the space. It only takes a moment but you see no immediate signs of surveillance.

Rafe’s gaze sharpens and with a subtle nod he points toward the bathroom, then toward you. You don’t need any more cues. Without hesitation, you reach into your bag, pulling out the bug scanner. Your fingers move with practiced precision as you head for the bathroom.

You click the scanner into place, letting it sweep the room for any hidden devices. Every second counts, and you methodically check every corner of the small space, eyes scanning the tiles and mirrors for any anomalies.

Meanwhile in the other room Rafe works just as fast. He places the scanner on the bed, allowing it to sweep for signals. He closes the curtains with quick, the soft fabric falling into place and then moves on to check under the bed. Every drawer is opened, every nook inspected.

As he opens the last one, pulling it out just far enough to spot a small, inconspicuous container. His eyes scan the contents and with a smirk he pulls out a box of condoms. The corner of his mouth twitches as he chuckles quietly, shutting the drawer with a soft click. “We won’t be needing that"

As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes lock with Rafe’s. The briefest of nods passes between you

“Clear"

“We should put the guns somewhere secure" you suggest voice low betraying no sign of urgency. Dropping to your knees you unzip one of the suitcases. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of the guns the weight of them familiar. You lift the bed with practiced ease, sliding the weapons beneath it making sure they’re hidden in the shadows.

Rafe moves beside you his gaze flickering over every inch of the room before he turns to gather smoke bombs and other explosives. He moves quickly, he’s done this a hundred times before. The weapons are hidden carefully in a compartment at the back of the closet tucked just beneath a pile of clothing.

With everything stashed away, you turn to the knives. Placing them inside a decorative vase on the table, you make sure to position them just right.

The room falls into a heavy silence as you take a step back assessing your work. You can hear Rafe moving around too putting the finishing touches on his side of things. Your pulse quickens slightly not from panic but from the subtle tension that always lingers in moments like this. You both know how easy it would be for someone to walk in and undo all of this. The whole operation would be huge fail

Not to mention, your heads would be gone too

Thirty minutes pass though it feels like an eternity. You slowly organize your clothes, neatly folding each item. There’s no trace left behind, no sign of anything out of place. Just a married couple, preparing for their vacation

Rafe lets out a low whistle as he walks up to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to look out. His eyes scan the street, taking in the small, quiet houses around them.

Curious you step up next to him nudging him slightly so you can get a look too. The neighborhood is quiet almost too quiet, like the kind of place where everyone pretends their lives are perfect. Some houses are small some bigger, but neat with tidy gardens and perfectly trimmed hedges. It’s the kind of setting that’s supposed to feel peaceful but just ends up feeling fake.

Your eyes drift to the house across the street. Andrea and Diego are just stepping inside their movements sharp and tense. Even from here, you can tell they’re arguing. Andrea’s arms are crossed tightly while Diego’s pacing ahead of her, throwing his hands up.

“Trouble in paradise" you mumble under your breath and Rafe snorts quietly in response.

Then his focus shifts and yours follows, both of you zeroing in on the house or rather, the mansion at the end of the street. It stands out like it’s begging for attention towering over the smaller homes around it.

'House' doesn’t even feel like the right word. It’s massive, with palm trees lining the driveway and a huge pool glittering out front. The kind of place that looks like it belongs to a celebrity or some tech billionaire. Floor to ceiling windows stretch across the front showing just enough of the inside to make you wonder what ridiculous stuff might be hidden away in there.

“Guess we know where that pig has been spending his blood money"

You can’t help but agree. The mansion is obnoxious in every way, from its size to the overly polished exterior. Everything about it screams excess like it was designed to flaunt power. But it doesn’t impress you. It just makes you think about the people who suffered to make it possible.

“The guards are gonna be a huge problem for us" you say, crossing your arms as you watch the street through the window.

Rafe lets out a sigh, his gaze lingering outside for a moment longer. “We’ll deal with them later" he says his voice calm but firm. Then his eyes meet yours. “First we just need to get that invite to the gala. And our new friends are gonna help us with that.”

You raise a brow at his confidence but don’t argue. He lets the curtain fall back into place, shutting out the view of the neighborhood as he turns toward the bed. For a moment he just stands there, his hands resting on his hips like he’s working through some silent thought.

Then a mischievous look flashes across his face. “Hold on" he moves toward the bed.

You watch as he grabs a handful of the rose petals someone had oh-so-romantically arranged earlier. Before you can ask what he’s doing he sits on the edge of the bed brushing the fake initials aside with an almost dismissive flick of his wrist.

“What are you-" you start but he cuts you off.

“Fixing this mess" he says simply. His hands work quickly, rearranging the petals into something new. Your eyes narrow as you step closer and then you realize what he’s doing.

It’s not the fake initials anymore. Now it’s your real ones, yours and his.

For a second, you’re too stunned to say anything. He looks up at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There" he says leaning back a little to admire his work.

You cross your arms tilting your head as you stare at him waiting for an explanation. He doesn’t give you one. Instead he just shrugs that infuriatingly smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips like he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

Your eyes narrow. “What?” he says still grinning. “Don’t like a little romance?”

Rolling your eyes you grab your bag and without hesitation, toss it right onto the bed landing it square in the middle of his carefully arranged petals. The soft scattered mess feels oddly satisfying.

“Hey!” he calls out half offended half laughing. “I worked hard on that!”

You roll your eyes a habit you’ve developed far too quickly since being stuck with him and unzip your bag pulling out your laptop. Without a word you walk over to the desk and sit down flipping open the screen.

The familiar glow lights up your face as you quickly type in your password your fingers moving instinctively over the keys. Your focus sharpens on the task ahead even as you feel Rafe’s presence behind you.

It doesn’t take long before he joins you, casually dropping into the chair next to yours. He leans back stretching his legs out like he has all the time in the world. You glance at him briefly, catching his usual smirk

You ignore him, instead glancing at the scanner you’d placed discreetly by the door earlier. Its tiny green light blinks steadily a quiet reassurance that you’d know the second someone got too close. It’s a simple precaution, but necessary given the circumstances.

As you glance back at your screen, Rafe leans forward slightly his arm brushing yours. You stiffen just for a second, before focusing harder on the work in front of you.

“You know" he starts "we make a pretty good team. When you’re not ruining my hard work that is.”

You sigh, still typing, but can’t help firing back. “Good to know your definition of teamwork involves sitting there doing absolutely nothing.”

“Hey I’m the one who snagged his phone data" he defends nudging you with his elbow

Before you can fire back Rafe interrupts, nodding toward your laptop. “Click here" he says leaning closer and pointing at the screen.

You follow his direction, your fingers brushing the trackpad as you open the file. A list pops up almost immediately, lines of text neatly organized.

“It’s a list of his properties. Pope and Kelce sent this to me" you murmur scrolling through the entries. Your eyes skim over the names and locations. “Look at this a market, a meat processing plant… even a bunch of rental properties.”

Rafe peers over your shoulder, his brows furrowing slightly. “He could be hiding his stuff in one of the places"

You hum in agreement your mind already racing with possibilities. “We should dig deeper into this see which ones are actually worth checking out.”

“In the meantime" Rafe says, standing up and stretching with a slight grunt "we can go out, take a closer look around and grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

You glance at him your stomach agreeing more than your mind, and give a silent nod. You reach for your sunglasses and slide them on tucking your bag over your shoulder. As you move to walk past him your eyes meet his, an unspoken pause hanging in the air.

And that’s when it hits you.

You both are dressed exactly the same.

Black shorts, white pants. A black t-shirt, and a white crop top. Same sunglasses, perfectly matching.

You freeze for a moment, staring at him with disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” How did you not notice this before?

Rafe’s lips curl into a mischievous smirk as he leans casually against the wall arms crossed in an almost teasing posture. He looks you up and down his gaze lingering for just a beat longer than usual. “You’re looking good angel.”

It’s clear he’s been enjoying the matching outfits all along. After all he noticed right away, but what fun would it be to tell you?

You roll your eyes trying to mask the amusement creeping onto your face. “You couldn’t have told me sooner?”

Rafe shrugs nonchalantly clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You push open the door, stepping out into the quiet street with Rafe right behind you. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoes softly as he secures it. You start walking toward the gate your steps steady, Rafe falling into step behind you just close enough.

“Ahh, new neighbors?” a voice suddenly chimes from behind you cutting through the stillness of the air.

You turn to find a woman approaching with a large, almost too eager smile. She’s probably in her mid-30s, her steps quick and confident as she gets closer.

“Ah hi.”

Rafe moves silently beside you, his posture relaxed, his shoulder brushing yours as he shifts his weight. You feel the subtle tension in the air as he silently observes the woman.

The woman stops directly in front of you, her bright green eyes gleaming with what seems like unfiltered curiosity. Her red hair, shiny and perfectly styled, frames her face in loose waves, and her outfit is impossibly expensive, pristine and too flawless to be casual.

“My name is Katherine, but you can call me Katie" she says with a bright laugh, grabbing your hand and shaking it firmly.

You offer her a confident smile, not missing a beat. “Oh nice to meet you, I’m Jane.” With a slight tilt of your head, you motion to Rafe. “And this is Drew"

Katherine immediately takes Rafe’s hand, her grip tight, almost calculating. He meets her eyes with a level gaze, his handshake firm but controlled

"Hello"

You glance at their clasped fingers for a second, then shift your focus back to Katherine with a knowing smile. You slide your hand onto Rafe’s bicep, your touch easy and natural.

“My husband”

Katherine’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovers, her smile returning smoothly as she releases Rafe’s hand. “Welcome" she says, her tone almost too friendly. “I saw you earlier and thought I’d come over to say hi.”

Rafe's mind is already elsewhere could she leave already? he wonders silently. “Yeah we’re just here for a little vacation" he says his voice casual but with a hint of impatience.

Katherine nods, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Ah how long are you staying?”

“A week" you reply smoothly, but inside, your mind is ticking through the minutes. Every second she spends here is one you can’t get back. Her incessantly high-pitched voice is grating on your nerves, each word feeling like it’s triggering a warning signal in your brain.

You fight to keep your expression neutral, but your patience is wearing thin.

But Rafe being Rave, he can't wait. With a polite yet firm smile he steps forward, cutting the conversation short. “It was really nice meeting you but we have to go, we’re starving" he says, his tone friendly. He grabs your hand and starts to pull you away not even waiting for a response.

As you both move, you glance over your shoulder at Katherine, who looks momentarily taken aback. “Yeah I’ll see you two again…?” she says her voice trailing off in confusion.

You offer her a smile that’s more rehearsed than apologetic. “See you Katie"

If only you knew the kind of problems Katherine would cause later on. Had you realized it then you would’ve wasted no time getting rid of her.

You move through the crowded streets the hum of voices and the scent of street food filling the air. Rafe walks beside you. You feel the heat of the sun on your skin, the sweat starting to gather on your forehead as the midday heat presses in from all sides.

You swipe a hand across your forehead, trying to shake off the discomfort. You’re used to dealing with more dangerous things than the weather but still this heat makes everything feel heavier.

Rafe’s eyes dart from one vendor to the next, scanning the streets like he’s trying to read a map in a language he doesn’t understand. You’ve been walking for what feels like forever fifteen minutes maybe more and you still haven’t found any sign of the markets you’re supposed to be tracking down.

“Nothing" His jaw tightens as he glances over at you, clearly feeling the same unease.

You glance around the sheer number of people making everything feel like one giant blur of movement. You’re getting nowhere.

The chatter of the crowd seems to get louder in your head every voice blending into a dull hum. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re wasting time, time you don’t have to spare.

You look at Rafe noticing the slight furrow in his brow. He’s still scanning, still working, but his frustration is palpable now. It’s hard to miss the way his shoulders are tense, his hand slightly brushing the handle of the gun hidden beneath his jacket.

“That bitch is good” he scoffs

But then you spot Diego leaving a store with another man. You gently tap Rafe’s arm, tilting your head towards them.

He follows your gaze, slowly lowering his sunglasses, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. After a moment, his voice is low

“Diego” he mutters “kinda looks like Shoupe.”

You look at him. “Shoupe…?”

“Yeah" Rafe says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it?”

Slowly the two of you make your way closer stepping off the main street and into a narrow alley where a small butcher shop stands. It looks oddly pristine for this part of island, almost too perfect. The walls are a fresh, bright white, and the counters gleam with that polished shine only something expensive can have. The glass display is full of various cuts of meat, neatly arranged in perfect rows, almost artfully laid out. It’s the kind of shop that looks more like an upscale restaurant than a local butcher.

You reach for the door but just as you do, something catches your eye. A small “Closed” sign dangles from the handle.

Rafe lets out a frustrated chuckle shaking his head. “These fuckers.”

“Do you think they’re hiding drugs?”

Rafe glances around quickly, his eyes narrowing as he steps up to the door. He peers through the crack, trying to get a glimpse of the inside, but it’s no use. He steps back and gives a resigned shrug his voice quieter now. “Or something worse.”

“Can I help you two?” A gravelly voice cuts through the air making both you and Rafe turn around.

A tall, bulky man stands behind you now, not quite as tall as Rafe, but still imposing. He’s dressed head to toe in black, his eyes hard as he glares at both of you. Rafe notices the gun tucked into his waistband, the silhouette of it just visible beneath his shirt, and the earpiece dangling from his ear.

He doesn’t miss a beat his smile easy and casual as he steps forward. “We were just passing by, thought we’d grab some meat.”

You follow his lead, glancing at the gun as you speak trying to seem disinterested.

“It’s closed, as you can see.” The man’s voice is icy, his tone sharper than before.

Rafe nods, his expression unfazed, and gestures toward the sign with a shrug. “Yeah I saw that. But can I ask why? I mean it’s the middle of the day.”

The guard’s lips twitch just slightly, as if the question bothers him more than he lets on. You decide to press your luck, adding in your own comment with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah it’s strange. The meat looks so fresh too.”

The guard sneers, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. “It’s closed and it’s none of your business” he snaps.

“Woah man, we were just asking.” Rafe’s tone shift dropping slightly as he raises his hands in mock surrender. He gestures toward you. “She’s pregnant and craving some lamb.”

You instinctively place a hand on your stomach, and the guard’s eyes flick down to it. His gaze lingers for a heartbeat longer than comfortable.

“Not my problem.” The guard’s voice is cold, clipped. “The restaurants are open. Go there and order food.”

Rafe’s hand twitches, a near subtle movement toward the gun tucked under his jacket. You catch it, a warning pulse of tension in the air.

You act immediately, reaching for his hand to stop him. “Let’s just go baby" you say softly, keeping your voice calm. You give him a reassuring squeeze, guiding him away from the guard.

You can feel the weight of the man’s stare on your backs, but you keep your eyes straight ahead refusing to look behind. As you both walk away the faint click of his earpiece sounds behind you.

“Nosy tourists" he mutters under his breath, “nothing suspicious… yet.”

“That fucking asshole" Rafe mutters, his voice laced with irritation as he strides ahead of you. He stops and turns back, his eyes narrowing. “We have to get in there.”

“Calm down James Bond. We will" you reply, removing your sunglasses with a casual flick of your wrist.

Just as you’re about to take a step forward a body suddenly crashes into yours knocking you off balance and sending you straight into Rafe’s arms. You’re barely able to steady yourself as his hands grip your waist to keep you from falling.

“Lo siento señora" the stranger mumbles, his words thick with an accent, his hands still awkwardly placed on you as if apologizing for the collision.

Rafe’s grip tightens on you, and you feel the heat of his chest against your back. “Watch where you’re going, asshole" he snaps.

You feel the moment shift your breath catching in your throat as your gaze involuntarily meets Rafe’s. You make the mistake of looking up, and suddenly, his eyes lock with yours. His face is inches from yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. His breath hitches just a fraction of a second, and you can almost hear the pounding of your heart.

For a moment, neither of you move, both of you suspended in that quiet space, the world around you forgotten. His eyes seem to reach deeper, reading you, searching you… and you feel something stir beneath your skin that you can’t quite explain.

His gaze traces the curve of your nose, then drifts down to your eyes watching the way they seem to sparkle in the sunlight, a brightness that makes him pause for a split second. Pretty, he thinks to himself though he doesn’t let it show.

“Lo siento mucho" the man apologizes again his voice softer now as he steps back.

You quickly pull yourself from Rafe’s arms, turning to face the stranger. “No te preocupes está bien" you reply smoothly offering him a reassuring smile. The man nods and grins, then turns to leave still apologizing under his breath.

Rafe watches you walk away, his eyes widening in realization. “Wait-wait, you knew Spanish the whole time? And you let me suffer trying to figure out what the staff were saying?”

You smirk walking past him with a casual air. Just as you pass a table with a vendor selling sweets, you slip your hand out and grab a lollipop, unwrapping and popping it into your mouth with a teasing look.

“I can’t say I didn’t enjoy seeing you suffer" you say with a sly smile, the candy crunching between your teeth.

Rafe chuckles softly, shaking his head as he reaches for more candy, slipping it into his pocket as he falls into step behind you.

You and Rafe wake early sunlight already brightening the room. After a quick breakfast and planning session, you both get dressed polished and expensive, as always and head out. The goal is clear: Bojan’s market. Thankfully you manage to leave the house without running into Katherine which already feels like a small victory.

As you approach the market, its polished exterior stands out against the surrounding buildings. The spotless windows and well-maintained signage scream wealth

You take a quick glance at the cashier through the glass door a boy who can’t be older than twenty five. He’s slouched behind the counter, headphones in, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world.

“It’s a boy" you mutter under your breath to Rafe.

“Yours to deal with" Rafe replies casually, giving you a pointed look.

You let out a small sigh before loosening your hair, letting it fall naturally around your shoulders. A quick glance down at your shirt, and you unbutton just enough to show a tasteful hint of cleavage.

When you look up, Rafe is staring an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you ask defensively, smoothing out your shirt.

“Nothing" he says but there’s a teasing tone in his tone.

“Just focus on your part okay?”

“I always do” he says with a shrug, already scanning the market layout for potential weak points.

Rafe pulls out his phone, dialing Kelce. The line barely rings before Kelce’s voice comes through smug and overly chipper.

“Mr. Starkey always a pleasure to hear from you,” Kelce greets his tone practically dripping with sarcasm.

Rafe closes his eyes briefly, already regretting the call. “Don’t start Kelce. Did you loop the camera feed?”

There’s a pause the sound of rapid typing in the background before Kelce responds. “Yeah the video’s looping. You’re good to go. Store’s blind for the next twenty minutes.”

“Good.” he nods glancing toward the store as he ends the call. He tilts his head slightly in your direction. “We’re clear.”

Hanging up, he slides his phone back into his pocket and turns to you. “I’ll go in first. Give me thirty seconds, then follow.”

“Got it.”

Rafe smirks faintly before stepping toward the door, slipping into character as if it’s second nature.

The cashier barely looks up as Rafe walks past him his attention still glued to his phone. With a roll of his eyes, Rafe makes his way toward the fridges, casually humming to himself.

Then he hears the door open behind him.

You step inside your heels clicking on the smooth floor, the sound sharp against the otherwise quiet market. You don’t look at the cashier, but you can feel his eyes on you. It’s almost too easy.

As you make your way through the aisles you glance back over your shoulder. The moment you catch his gaze his face flushes red. You smile, letting him stew in the moment. This is going exactly as planned.

You pick up a couple of chocolates from a shelf and make your way to the counter. The moment you step up, the boy stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over.

“Hi" you say sweetly, keeping your tone light and friendly your smile sharp. His eyes immediately dart down to your cleavage before snapping back up to your face. You notice the way his throat works as he gulps.

“I’m having a hard time deciding. Maybe you could be a good boy and tell me which one is better?” You give him a soft smile, watching as his eyes flicker between you and the chocolates.

From the earpiece in your ear, you hear Rafe’s amused chuckle. “Don’t let him wet his pants" he teases.

You smile, barely holding back a laugh.

As Rafe watches the guy’s attention stay fixed on you, he moves swiftly toward the staff room. Quietly, he tests the door handle. Locked.

A curse slips from his lips as he pulls out the pin lock from his pocket. His fingers work quickly, the lock clicking open within seconds.

He glances over his shoulder at you, still engaged in conversation with the boy his smile wide and distracted.

With a quiet push Rafe slips into the staff room. The moment the door swings open, a sharp unpleasant smell hits him. He wrinkles his nose but pushes forward, his eyes scanning the room. The space is cramped, filled with boxes of various sizes, all stacked haphazardly on shelves and the floor.

Rafe pulls out his phone, snapping quick photos of the scene. His gaze drifts over the cluttered shelves as he moves toward the closest box. He pulls out his knife, expertly slicing the tape on the top and peering inside. Chips. Just chips.

A frown crosses his face as he cuts open the other end. Same thing. Chips.

Rafe checks another box, the third one, but it’s the same. Frustration edges his thoughts. Just when he’s about to move on, something catches his attention. A package of chips, but the label is odd half of it is covered with a red square.

Curiosity piqued he opens the box and pulls one of the bags out. As he holds it, a small chuckle escapes him. There’s no crunch, no weight of chips. He rips the bag open, it is packed with powder-cocaine, LSD, and a few other drugs.

“Of course" Rafe mutters under his breath. He takes a handful of the chips, concealing them in his jacket and carefully tapes the bag back shut. Moving to the next box which is slightly bigger

he opens it to find a different kind of surprise. This one is filled with guns, neatly stacked their cold steel gleaming in the dim light.

He scoffs muttering another curse. He moves quickly to the set of fridges at the back. As he opens one the door creaks loudly the noise echoing through the small storage room.

The boy’s head jerks toward the staff room as he hears the sound. “Uh did you hear that?” he asks his voice tinged with suspicion.

You smile sweetly running your fingers through your hair, leaning slightly toward him. “Hear what?”

He glances back at you, looking flustered. “Sorry just wait here. I need to check something-"

You cut him off with a playful tilt of your head, quickly sliding your hand over his. “But I thought you’d be more interested in my number"

your fingers barely grazing his skin, making him freeze, caught off guard.

“Y-your number?”

“Good job angel. Keep him occupied" Rafe murmurs. He moves toward the fridge, his fingers brushing against the bottles. Three of them. All covered. He picks one up, its label unreadable, then pops it open. The smell hits him instantly, and he recoils, nearly gagging. This definitely wasn’t cherry.

With a grimace he slams the fridge door shut, his eyes scanning the room as he works. He places trackers in the boxes, carefully hiding them among the stacks of goods, ensuring they won’t be noticed.

Once done, he exits the back room his eyes flicking toward the counter where you’re still talking to the boy. He mutters under his breath “I’m done.”

You, now fully in character flash him a quick smile. “Oh I have to go now I’m late for something.” You grab the chocolates and wave your hand dismissively at the boy your lips curling into a playful grin.

“But you didn’t give me your num-”

You cut him off with a nonchalant shrug not even turning around. “Yeah call me.” Your voice carries over your shoulder as you start walking away.

He watches, dumbfounded muttering to himself “And you didn’t pay…”

As you stride forward Rafe effortlessly falls into step beside you.

“Did you find anything?” you ask keeping your tone casual

He nods his jaw tight, his expression darkening. “Yeah something unexpected. But let’s head home first.”

The moment you step through the door though, your eyes flicker to the corner. And there she is. Katie coming closer

Without a second thought you close the door swiftly blocking her out.

You don’t have the time or energy for her nonsense right now.

Rafe flings the chips onto the table, one bag already open. As they scatter, you watch in silence as the contents fall out. Little packets of white powder mixed with the debris of the chips. Right next to them, several bottles of juice tumble onto the table. Your eyes flicker back and forth between the items

You pick up one of the drug packets and inspect it carefully “He isn’t as sly as he thinks" you mutter your fingers brushing over the contents.

Rafe still standing, lets out a low huff before grabbing one of the juice bottles from the pile tosses it in your direction. “Open this"

You glance at him slightly confused before looking back down at the bottle. You open it with a quick twist, and as you bring it to your nose to sniff a wave of foul stench assaults your senses. The liquid smells rotten, sharp and sour, making your stomach turn. You quickly pull it away from your face the smell still lingering in your nostrils.

"What the fuck"

You hold it up in front of you, staring at the thick dark liquid swirling inside. “Is this… fucking blood?” you ask your voice barely above a whisper as you try to make sense of it. The red liquid inside is too familiar, like the blood you’ve seen spilled during your missions.

"Call Wes and Shoupe"

“Blood you say?” Wes repeats his voice tinged with disbelief as his face and Shoupe’s appear on your laptop screen.

Rafe nods his expression grim. “Yeah guns, drugs, I planted trackers so you can track the shipment. But there’s also the blood.”

He holds up the glass, the dark red liquid sloshing ominously inside. Wes and Shoupe exchange a look clearly unsettled.

“We’re not sure if it’s animal or human but…” You pause. Your fingers tap lightly against the edge of the desk, the uncertainty hanging in the air.

“You need to get into that butcher shop tonight,” Shoupe says, his voice firm, as he leans in closer to the screen. “We need confirmation on whether it’s human or animal blood. Both have different implications, but we need to know for sure.”

Rafe leans back in his chair, his expression hardening. “Do you think the blood’s tied to some ritualistic bullshit, or is it being mixed with drugs?” He drags out the words, his tone hinting at the frustration building inside him.

Wes removes his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sighs. “Honestly it could be for any number of things. Drugs, organ trafficking, ritualistic cults, black market dealings, even twisted experiments. The possibilities are endless.” His eyes narrow slightly as he glances at the image on the screen. “And all of them are bad news.”

“Get into the butcher shop and find everything" Shoupe instructs his voice sharp and direct. “Take pictures, plant a small camera whatever you can.”

Wes’s voice follows equally urgent. “We didn’t find much on Diego Gomez’s phone but keep an eye on him. He’s been seen with Bojan practically everywhere.”

You and Rafe both nod in agreement, but as the call ends, you find yourself staring at your own reflection in the dark screen of the laptop.

The laptop screen flickers before a photo of JJ’s ridiculous grinning face fills the frame, making you groan audibly. Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Do we have to answer this again?” he mutters.

You sigh. “Im gonna regret this.”

“HI LOVE BIRDS!” JJ yells his voice way too loud, as Topper shoves him aside to get in the frame.

“Hi babies!” Topper chimes in waving enthusiastically.

“Move I wanna see—”

“Why is Rafe’s big ass head taking up the whole screen?

“Guys stop"

“I’m hanging up-" Rafe starts reaching for the laptop.

“Wait wait just ignore them" Pope cuts him off, stepping into view as he waves the others out of the frame. “We called for a reason. Something’s come up.”

Rafe leans back, crossing his arms, his scowl deepening. “This better be good.”

"I just sent this to Shoupe and Wes" Pope clears his throat and adjusts the mic. “While I was digging into Bojan's finances, I found a few connections I wasn’t expecting. He’s been funding a… specialized facility just outside the city. It’s not publicized, but it’s labeled as dealing with ‘biological preservation.’”

You furrow your brows. “What does that even mean?”

“That’s the thing. It’s vague. No published research, no university partnerships, nothing you’d usually associate with a legitimate facility. And the shipments they’re processing? They’re marked as ‘biological materials.’ High-value. Temperature-controlled. Fragile. Weirdly secretive.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens. “So what, you think it’s some underground science experiment?”

Pope hesitates before responding, his tone more serious. “I don’t know yet. But there’s something shady about the setup. The permits for the shipments are incomplete, and there are inconsistencies in the manifests like they’re deliberately hiding what’s being moved.”

“What’s actually in the shipments?” you ask leaning forward slightly.

“I don’t have solid proof yet" Pope admits, glancing off-screen as if checking his notes. “But from what I’ve pieced together they’re moving something valuable enough to require extreme secrecy and heavy security.”

Rafe narrows his eyes at the screen. “And Diego’s involved?”

“Definitely" Pope confirms. “His phone’s been tracked near the facility multiple times. He’s clearly tied to whatever operation Bojan’s running there. Look I’m still piecing it together, but all the roads keep leading back to this ‘preservation facility."

“Got it" you say finally, your voice steadier than you feel.

“Just… be careful" Pope adds.

Sarah’s face suddenly fills the frame. “HEY YOU GUYS!” she screams practically bouncing with excitement when she spots you both.

You can’t help but smile at her energy. “Hi Sarah" you say warmly.

Behind her, John B appears his hand resting casually on her waist. Rafe’s eyes narrow immediately, his head tilting slightly as if to get a better look.

“Wait a damn second- why is he touching you like that?” Rafe blurts his tone sharp.

Sarah freezes, her eyes going wide as she glances nervously at John B. Before anyone can respond JJ’s voice booms from somewhere off screen loud and obnoxious "BECAUSE THEY’RE FUCKING!”

And just like that the call cuts out, leaving you staring at the blank, black reflection of the laptop screen.

"I'm going to kill that boy" Rafe growls,

You arch an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

"Pretty sure you've done enough damage already"

You tighten the small bag around your wrist, double-checking everything.

Knife.

Pills.

Injections.

Camera.

Everything’s in place. You pull your ponytail tighter, the strands pulling against your scalp as you turn toward Rafe. He’s focused, loading the guns with a calm precision. You extend your hand and without a word he hands you a weapon.

You glance down at the gun, then back at him, raising a brow. “Why do I get the woman’s gun?”

Rafe looks at you, a mix of confusion and irritation in his eyes. “Just take it" he mutters, clearly not in the mood for a back and forth.

You shake your head smirking as you hand the gun back to him. Swiftly you reach for his, tucking it behind you in one fluid motion. You straighten up and look him dead in the eyes

“I’m ready.”

Rafe shakes his head muttering under his breath as he tosses your gun into the closet with a soft clink then grabs another one from the rack.

It’s midnight, dead quiet. Not a single light flickers in any of the houses around you. The streets are empty, not even a car passing by. Just the stillness of the night.

You and Rafe slip out of the house, moving like slowly, careful not to make a sound. Every step is calculated every movement deliberate. No one can know you’re here.

The shop is close now, just a few blocks away. You pause, holding up your hand to signal Rafe to stop. You’re waiting on Kelce’s confirmation that the cameras are down. The seconds stretch, every movement feeling like it’s happening in slow motion. Then, a soft beep in your earpiece.

“Cameras are off. You’re clear" Kelce’s voice crackles through.

You notice a guard standing in front of the door his attention fixed elsewhere. He's alone. You turn to Rafe giving him a quick subtle hand signal- left for him, right for you. Without a word, he nodded and the two of you silently split up.

You pull out the injection from your bag, feeling the weight of it in your hand as you moved toward the guard, making sure your footsteps were quiet on the ground. You stay low, the shadows providing some cover as you closed the distance.

Once you were close enough you glance at Rafe who had positioned himself just out of sight. His eyes meet yours and with a brief silent nod, you both move in unison. You approache the guard from behind, your steps calculated, and with a quick motion, you press the needle into his neck. The sharp jab went unnoticed, and in moments, the sedative took effect.

You cover his mouth to stifle any noise as his body went slack and with Rafe’s help, you lowered him to the ground, ensuring he didn’t make a sound. You'll place him inside later

Rafe let out a quiet sigh, scanning the area around him. His eyes settled on a small device on top of the door. With a quick practiced motion, he placed another device on top securing it in place.

A few tense seconds passed the air thick with anticipation. Then a faint static buzz came through the earpiece followed by Pope’s voice. “Alarm’s off" he says

You didn’t need to hear anything more. Without a word, you reach into your pocket and pulled out the pin locket. You didn’t hesitate your fingers working quickly and efficiently as you set to unlocking the door, the soft clicks of the mechanism the only sound as you focused, determined to get inside.

You step into the shop, the door creaking softly. as you ease it open. Everything seems fine nothing suspicious. The dim light of the hallway does little to reveal any immediate threat.

You then go grab the guard, and put him in the chair behind the counter. This will do. Rafe glances at you, his eyes flicking to the door on the left. Without a word, he motions toward it. “I’ll check this one. You take the other.”

You nod moving toward the opposite door. As soon as you open it, a cold draft hits you, and the darkness swallows you whole. You fumble for your flashlight, clicking it on, but the second the beam cuts through the shadows, the stench hits you a disgusting one, choking odor that makes your stomach turn.

You wince and pull your shirt up over your nose, but it’s no use. The smell is overpowering. The light moves forward, pigs, lambs, cows all hanging from the ceiling, their bodies skinned clean, heads severed.

Your stomach churns violently, but you force yourself to look away from the grotesque sight. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, and it clings to your skin. The smell is unbearable, stinging your nose, and you fight to keep from gagging.

Rafe’s voice crackles through your earpiece. “Can’t find shit just files.”

You hum in response. “Keep looking for what Pope told us. Maybe you’ll find their payment records.”

“On it" Rafe replies, the determination in his voice unmistakable despite the irritation.

You reach for your gun gripping it tightly. Slowly, you move to your left, scanning the dim room. The quiet is almost suffocating, the only sound being the soft shuffle of your footsteps on the floor. You pause, then turn your head to the right the beam of the flashlight cutting through the darkness.

As your light glides across the room, you catch sight of a row of knives, their blades gleaming coldly in the faint light. Then, at the far end of the room something catches your attention. A wall, almost blending into the surroundings, but covered with a heavy set of plastic curtains. A soft, eerie blue light spills from behind it flickering like a warning.

You step closer, the foul stench growing stronger with every step. Holding your gun in one hand, you pull aside the plastic curtains, wincing as the harsh blue light floods your vision, making your eyes ache.

Inside the space, the scene unfolds

knives, industrial fridges, and the bottles Rafe had found earlier, all arranged methodically. The cold inside hits you like a wall, much colder than the room you’d just left, making your body shiver involuntarily.

“Win, I found some payments" Rafe’s voice comes through, but you barely hear him. Your focus is consumed by what’s in front of you.

You set your gun down on the table, fingers itching as you approach one of the fridges. You tug at the door, but it’s sealed tight. Locked. Motherfucker.

You pull a pin lock from your pocket, with swift, practiced movements you set to work. Ten seconds. The lock clicks open. You don’t hesitate yanking the door open, but the moment it swings wide, the smell hits you like a punch to the gut. The contents inside make your stomach churn violently, and you almost throw up right there.

It’s worse than you imagined.

But that’s nothing compared to what you see inside.

You almost scream.

You’ve killed more than you care to count, as an assassin, you’ve seen the darkest sides of humanity but this? This is a whole different level. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the stacked lungs, at least fifty of them neatly arranged, each one a grim reminder of lives stolen. Your knees weaken beneath you and for a moment the room spins.

You force yourself to look closer, your gaze falling to the label on top of the lungs: 48 hours.

“Angel?”

You shake yourself out of the haze, turning toward the other fridges. You unlock the other one. Livers. The next? Kidneys. They’re all here lined up, cold, and lifeless.

“Angel what happened?” Rafe asks again his voice urgent now and you can hear the sound of something shifting in the background.

“Rafe… they’re fucking organ trafficking" you say the words bitter in your mouth your voice shaky as you fight the bile rising in your throat. “Their fridges are stacked with kidneys, livers… everything.”

Rafe doesn’t waste a second. He grabs the files and bolts out of the office, moving quickly toward the next room. As he enters, he instinctively covers his nose, the stench from the fridges unbearable.

“Where are you?”

You answer, and without hesitation, he follows the faint blue glow of the light, his steps quickening as he approaches the source.

When he finally steps inside, he freezes. His eyes dart to the open fridges the sight before him enough to stun him into silence. The shock is palpable as he takes in the rows of organs the reality of what you’d uncovered hitting him all at once.

“This man is sick" you mutter disgust clear in your voice as you pull out your phone, snapping photos of the gruesome scene. The weight of the horror still presses on your chest, but you force yourself to focus, capturing every detail.

Rafe swallows hard doing his best to block out the stench that clings to the air, his expression grim as he works. He places a tracker and a bug just outside one of the fridges, hiding them with precision, making sure they’re undetectable.

Once you’ve taken the last of the photos, you step back closing the fridge doors and locking them again.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asks his voice softer now. You glance at him, the dim blue light casting sharp shadows across his face. The concern in his eyes cuts through the tension, but you hold yourself together.

You nod, your voice steady, though the disgust lingers in your gut. “Yeah… just disgusted.”

“Shit" Rafe mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes zero in on the bulky man from yesterday striding toward the store.

You glance over and immediately stiffen, a wave of annoyance and adrenaline crashing through you. “Why the hell is he here?” you bite out

Rafe’s response is immediate. He reaches for his gun the metallic click echoing softly in the tense silence. “I’ll disconnect the device. You cover our tracks, we’re out through the office window.”

There’s no room for argument. Both of you move like a well-oiled machine. Rafe's hands are steady as he works on dismantling the device. Meanwhile you scour the room grabbing a crumpled newspaper from a drawer. It’s a weak cover, but it’ll do. You slip it into the sleeping guard’s hands, carefully arranging it to look like he’s been dozing off during his shift.

“Done" Rafe murmurs, straightening as he pockets the device.

Without a word, he turns and grips your shoulders his touch firm but steering you towards the office.

You shrug him off with a glare. “I know where the fucking office is.”

“Then stop wasting time" he shoots back his voice clipped. His focus is razor sharp, but you don’t miss the flicker of amusement in his eyes. Even now he can’t resist pushing your buttons.

“Let’s wait until he shuts off the alarm" Rafe whispers in your ear his breath warm and deliberate against your skin. You nod silently, keeping your eyes trained on the man approaching the store.

The bulky figure slows as he reaches the storefront, his expression twisting into disdain when he spots the guard slumped over fast asleep.

With an irritated scoff the man punches in the code on the keypad, the faint beep of the alarm deactivating breaking the tense silence. The door creaks open, and he strides inside his irritation radiating like a stormcloud.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he barks, kicking the chair out from under the groggy guard. The sudden jolt sends the man jerking awake disoriented and blinking in confusion.

“Wha- where am I?” the guard mumbles his voice thick with sleep.

“Where are you? This is the second time I’ve caught you sleeping on the job. Are you trying to get yourself killed or are you just that useless?”

“Now" Rafe whispers, his hand gripping the window handle.

You grab his wrist before he can move, your eyes snapping toward the door as a shadow shifts just outside. Without a word, you yank him behind a nearby closet, pressing yourself against the wall as the space barely fits the two of you.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly about to make some snide remark, but you silence him with a finger pressed firmly to his lips. His brow furrows slightly, then lifts in quiet amusement, his smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth.

The door creaks open. The man steps inside scanning the room with sharp eyes. His heavy boots echo softly against the floor. Your heart pounds in your ears as you hold your breath. Rafe’s arm slipping around your waist, tugging you closer.

The silence is heavy, every sound threatening to give you away. Finally the man seems satisfied and steps back out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and try to step away but Rafe doesn’t let you go. His arm remains firmly around your waist, keeping you pressed against him.

“Rafe" you whisper glaring up at him.

He tilts his head his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Admit it. You liked that a little too much.”

Your jaw tightens heat rising to your cheeks. “Let go of me" you hiss trying to push at his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“Not until you admit it" he says, leaning closer, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Rafe" you growl under your breath, but his smirk only widens "We have to leave"

“You’re not denying it"

“Because it’s ridiculous" you snap, finally managing to shove him off. He releases you with a quiet chuckle

As you straighten and move toward the window, his voice follows you, soft but maddeningly smug. “For the record" he drawls "I wouldn’t mind hiding with you like that, again"

You whip around to glare at him, but he’s already moving toward the window, acting as if nothing had happened leaving you silently fuming, and a little flustered.

Rafe climbs out first landing smoothly before turning back to hold the window open. His hand extends toward you palm up, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

You narrow your eyes your glare sharp enough to cut. Ignoring his outstretched hand entirely you swing yourself through the window, landing gracefully beside him without so much as glancing his way.

Rafe looks at you then down at his outstretched hand his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. He scratches the back of his head, a slow chuckle escaping his lips.

“Okay"

You walked ahead of Rafe, as always, his steady footsteps following you. The silence between you two was oddly comforting, and for a brief moment you actually found yourself enjoying it.

That is, until your eyes landed on your damn redheaded neighbor.

You muttered under your breath "Deal with your fan" as you pushed open the gate and started toward the door your steps quickening with annoyance.

Rafe let out a long exasperated sigh, his eyes squeezing shut as he caught sight of Kathleen. She gasped dramatically when she saw you pass by without so much as a glance, but her face instantly lit up the moment her gaze shifted to Rafe.

“Drew hi!” she called out her voice high pitched and cheerful.

Rafe’s mind immediately raced as he watched her, his thoughts a mix of confusion and disbelief. It’s 1 AM, for god’s sake what is she doing wandering around at this hour?

“Hey Kathleen" Rafe says with a tired grin, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Katherine"

“Right Katherine" Rafe mutters, rolling his eyes. “Nice catching up with you-"

Before he can finish, her eyes widen, and she interrupts. “So what were you two doing? Just walking around at this hour?”

Rafe halts mid-step turning slowly to look at her an eyebrow quirked. “I could ask you the same thing"

She waves her hand dismissively, laughing lightly. “Oh I was just at my friend’s place, borrowing a springform pan. I’m making a cheesecake lemon cheesecake to be exact.”

She keeps going hardly pausing for breath. “Andrea invited us over for dinner tomorrow thought I’d bring something sweet. Mr. Banovic will be there too, don’t know if you’ve met him.”

Rafe who was about to open the gate, stops. He turns to her with a raised eyebrow. “Mr. Banovic huh? Yeah I know him.”

Katherine doesn’t seem to notice his sudden shift rambling on. “Yeah so she invited us, half of the neighborhood actually. Do you like cheesecake, Drew?”

Rafe smiles. “I actually love it.”

Your eyes narrow as you watch Rafe smile at her- smile. That warm, effortless, pretty smile. It makes your stomach twist but you don’t want to admit it. You’re regretting stepping inside now.

“The conversation can’t be that interesting" you mutter to yourself trying to push down the discomfort gnawing at you. “Whatever.”

As much we you want to shut the curtain and block it all out. But you can’t look away. Not when she places her hand on his shoulder so casually, so familiar. And when he doesn’t immediately move it your chest tightens.

You scoff, trying to mask the feeling creeping up on you. “I mean she’s literally flirting with a married man. What’s wrong with her?”

It’s not jealousy. You refuse to admit that. You’re just… uncomfortable with how she’s trying to wedge herself between a marriage.

A fake marriage. But she doesn’t know that.

The moment Rafe turns, you quickly slam the curtain shut hoping he didn’t catch you staring. But you know him too well. Nothing gets past him.

Without a second thought, you throw yourself onto the bed yanking the blanket over you. You don’t want to deal with him right now.

Rafe opens the door a small smirk tugging at his lips. For once that damn redhead proved to be useful.

His gaze shifts to you lying on the bed. You’re already in your cute silk blue pajamas, your back turned to him looking peaceful beneath the blanket. A soft smile curves his lips as he watches you.

He’d seen you just thirty seconds ago at the window.

He quietly removes his gun tucking it away, and then removes his t-shirt, slipping into a pair of shorts. Rafe moves to the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight as he settles beside you.

The room is draped in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the kitchen window. It’s not much, but it’s enough for him to make out the silhouette of your body, the soft rise and fall of your breath beneath the blanket.

A minute passes. Then another. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and unanswered. Why aren’t you asking him about what she said? If you think he’s going to be the one to break the silence, you’re dead wrong-

“She invited us to Andrea’s dinner. Bojan’s going to be there" Finally Rafe lets out a soft sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

You don’t respond.

He blinks, about to repeat himself, when he feels you turn over to face him.

“Why would she invite us to someone else’s dinner?” you ask your voice thick with confusion.

Rafe forces himself to look away, a smile threatening at the corner of his lips. Don’t look at her… don’t look at her.

"We at least got the invite. Who cares if she’s a little weird?” His gaze flicks to you, the soft light from the window casting a glow on one side of your face.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades. “No like in general, she’s weird" you say, the words coming out almost reluctantly. “She’s passive aggressive with me…”

"Really?

You raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity. “And she’s obsessed with you and she definitely doesn’t like me. She called my outfit scandalous earlier today.”

He sighs unable to hide the slight grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth now. “She has a funny way of showing it.”

You pout, shifting to lie on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t scandalous. I looked pretty today.”

“You definitely did.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you murmur, “Thank you.”

“I thought you fell asleep" Rafe says, settling back and slipping his arms under his head with a relaxed sigh.

You roll your eyes, your voice soft. “…I was dozing off until you showed up.”

He chuckles liar. “You were at the window.”

Caught. You try to shrug it off, a half laugh escaping you. “Well for like two seconds then I left. She’s crazy. I wanted to see what she's doing"

He pushes himself up, propping himself up on his elbow as he turns to look at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

You let out a dry chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Why would I be jealous?”

He tilts his head, as if pondering. “Hmm… it’s a long list but the first reason would be because she likes me.”

Your brows furrow, a hint of frustration creeping in. “What are you hinting at?”

Mimicking his pose, you lean on your elbow, facing him. He grins the kind of grin that makes your blood boil in all the wrong ways. “You’re smart. Figure it out yourself.”

Oh how you wanted to punch his pretty face.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me"

Rafe’s grin only widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Aw I have that effect on you?”

“You don’t even deserve a good night" you mutter, turning your back to him as you settle into the bed. “I hope you die in your sleep.”

Rafe bursts out laughing, the sound annoyingly warm and amused. “Sweet dreams to you too, angel"

You press your lips together, smoothing out the dark red lipstick you’d just applied. Perfect. The rich color added a striking touch to your look, bold without overdoing it.

It was nearing 6 p.m., which meant it was almost time to head to Andrea’s house. You were just waiting on Rafe, who had gone to pick up a bottle of wine.

You had opted for a simple yet elegant black dress, a sleek sleeveless design, the neckline cut but connected with a trio of bows along, hugging your figure in all the right places. Your hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. To complete the look, you chose silver bracelets that caught the light just enough and small, understated earrings that added a hint of luxury without being too much.

You take the pie out of the refrigerator, setting it on the counter. You like to pretend you made it yourself, even though the bakery box gave it away.

Rafe walks in just as you’re wrapping the pie. He’s dressed simply in black pants and a tight black t-shirt.

Yeah, tight.

“What took you so long?” you ask trying to ignore how well the shirt fits him.

“Had to pick out an expensive wine-" He pauses mid sentence when his eyes land on you, his gaze lingering just a second too long before he recovers. “-and the line was insane.”

You hum in acknowledgment focusing on the pie, but the heat of his stare doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Uh" he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking out of place. “You look pretty.”

Your cheeks warm, and you avoid meeting his eyes. “Thank you. You look good too.”

He grins, that infuriatingly cocky grin. “Yeah, well that’s not hard.”

You roll your eyes fighting the urge to smile. Of course he had to ruin the moment.

Rafe glances at the pie in your hands raising an eyebrow. “When did you make that?”

“This morning" you say smoothly, then shrug with a small grin. “Well the bakery made it but we’re leaving that part out.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he opens the door for you. “You’re unbelievable.”

With a smirk you step outside the cool evening air brushing against your skin as Rafe follows his hand on your back.

“Tonight’s the night" Rafe murmurs, his gaze fixed on the big house as you both draw closer.

You sigh frustration lacing your voice. “We have to dickride him until we get the invite" you mutter, stopping just before the gate.

Rafe winces, his lips tugging into a rueful smile. “By the end of this, I’ll be lucky if I have any pride left at all.”

The door swings open, and Andrea steps outside with a warm smile. “Jane, Drew welcome!” she says wrapping her arms around both of you in a friendly embrace.

“Hi Andrea" you reply with a grin. “Thank you again for the invite.”

Andrea waves off your gratitude. “Oh it’s nothing. Come inside dear.”

As you both step over the threshold, you’re momentarily taken aback by the sheer size and luxury of the house. It’s so grand that you almost gasp in awe.

“Starkey" Diego calls out his eyes landing on Rafe. Without missing a beat, he strides forward and pulls Rafe into a tight hug.

“Hey man” Rafe says, giving Diego a friendly pat on the shoulder.

You smile, but your gaze shifts to Katherine, and the smile fades as a surge of irritation washes over you.

That bitch lied. Andrea had wanted to invite you both from the start, but she couldn’t find you at home. So she’d already told Katherine, but Katherine made it seem like she was the one who extended the invite just to get closer to Rafe.

And suddenly, the urge to hurt her just a little, was overwhelming.

You take Rafe’s hand gently pulling him closer. He meets your gaze for a moment before resting his hand on your waist, his touch warm as he hands Andrea the glass of wine.

“I also made this for you" you say offering Andrea the pie you’d 'prepared'

The blonde's face lights up with delight. “You didn’t have to, but thank you so much. Please head to the dining room. Katie, can you show them the way?”

Katie’s smile is tight as she gestures for you to follow her. You walk with Rafe at your side, his presence grounding, though your eyes wander as you take in the sheer size of the house. The dining room is massive, far bigger than you expected. The long table stretches across the room, easily seating over fifteen people.

You spot him immediatel Bojan. Seated at the head of the table, laughing with someone beside him. He looks exactly like the photos you’ve studied but in person, there’s an edge to him that the pictures didn’t capture. His presence fills the room like everyone is drawn to him without question without doubt. It’s not just power it’s control. You squeeze Rafe’s hand. There’s no hesitation, no hint of nervousness.

You take your seat, positioning yourself somewhat in the middle. Every eye in the room seems drawn to him and the weight of the moment hits you all at once. Andrea steps in, Diego at her side, and with a sharp clap of her hands, she commands the room’s attention. “Thank you all for coming tonight" she says. “A special thank you to Mr. Banović who graciously took the time to join us.”

The sound of applause fills the room, and without thinking, your hands start to clap, the sound hollow in your ears as you force yourself to join in.

Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver from Bojan, and in that exact moment their eyes meet. Bojan’s smile stretches wider a slow, deliberate thing, and he raises his glass in a silent toast. Rafe responds with a subtle nod his own glass lifting in return.

If only Bojan knew that in the end, Rafe was the one who was about to ruin his life.

As the maids begin placing the plates down, the room fills with the sound of silverware clinking and murmurs of conversation. The guests dive into their dinner, plates being passed around as everyone chats with each other. Rafe sitting across the table turns to Diego who’s seated near Bojan.

“I hope you’re feeling better" Rafe says acting concerned

Diego chuckles shaking his head. “Ah yeah thank God. No more trouble, at least for now" he replies with a grin

Bojan simply stares ahead continuing to eat with his mouth open, chewing loudly and without care. The sight of it almost makes you want to throw your knife at him in frustration.

Patience.

As he chews he nonchalantly gestures with his knife toward Rafe and Diego, his eyes flicking between them. “Who’s the new face?”

This was it.

“Drew Starkey and that’s his wife Jane" Diego pipes in, Rafe doesn't miss the way Diego’s eyes linger on you. He’ll deal with that later.

“Starkey? That last name sounds familiar" a man next to you says, turning to Rafe.

“Probably because he has his own firm. He’s a luxury estate developer" Diego explains, his smile almost too eager. You both know exactly why he’s so invested in the conversation, because he’s brought a wealthy successful family to the table.

Rafe nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah I have my own firm in North Carolina.”

The man beside you perks up, now understanding. “Oh right! I came to your firm when I wanted to design my penthouse in New York.”

You blink, caught off guard. Wait what?

Rafe glances at him just as confused as you are, though neither of you shows it.

“Ali Hassani" the man introduces himself. Rafe quickly acts like he recognizes the name nodding politely.

The truth? This man probably has Rafe confused with someone else entirely, but right now, it’s only working in Rafe’s favor.

“Ah I remember now" Rafe says smoothly, leaning back slightly. “How’s it working out for you? Is it meeting your expectations?”

The couple nods enthusiastically, their faces lighting up. “We absolutely love it" Ali replies. “It’s been perfect for us and for the kids too" his wife adds. “We might even reach out to you again in the future.”

Okay…

“Anytime"

“What kind of properties do you specialize in?” Bojan asks his tone casual, but his sharp gaze reveals he’s testing Rafe.

Rafe smirks to himself leaning back slightly, exuding calm confidence. Right where I want you.

“High-end residential properties, luxury estates, penthouses, you name it" he says smoothly, tilting his head as if considering his next words. “Lately I’ve been expanding into private islands. Actually just last month, I wrapped up a $5.1 million mansion for-" He pauses turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “Angel remind me- who was it again?”

You don’t miss a beat your lips curling into a sly smile as you meet Bojan’s gaze briefly. “William Harris" you say your tone casual but carrying just enough weight to land the blow. “A London businessman. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him.”

The table falls silent

Oh Bojan has. The faintest flicker of recognition passes through Bojan’s eyes gone almost as quickly as it appeared, but it’s enough to confirm you’ve hit the mark. He sets his fork down slowly, his expression neutral, though the tension in his jaw is unmistakable. During your research, you uncovered the bitter rivalry between him and Harris—a competition over business, wealth, properties, and influence that runs deep.

This was it. The perfect jab. The nail in the coffin.

Rafe doesn’t so much as blink, he leans forward slightly placing his elbows on the table as if to close the distance. His gaze stays steady, unwavering, as a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “It was a pretty low-profile project" he says smoothly. “You didn't hear it from me but pparently Harris is gearing up for something new. He was relentless about every detail, determined. From the way he talked, it’s clear he’s planning something big.”

“Is that so?” he says his eyes narrowing as they lock onto you and Rafe.

Come on, Bojan, you think, watching him carefully. Take the bait. Let it eat at you.

Diego lets out a nervous chuckle, the sound awkward and slightly strained. “Well our man Bojan here has been making new businesses left and right—all successful too.”

But he doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he picks up his glass, raising it slightly to signal the maid for more wine. The room falls quiet as the maid hurries over to pour, and you both watch him carefully, noting the controlled movements, the deliberate way he avoids meeting anyone’s gaze.

He takes a sip, his eyes fixed on the glass as he hums thoughtfully, the sound breaking the silence like a subtle warning. “Harris always had expensive taste” he says finally. Then, his gaze lifts, pinning Rafe with precision. “Tell me, Starkey, do you know anything about this… plan of his?”

Before Rafe can respond, you step in smoothly, your voice measured but disinterested, as if the question is barely worth your time. “Art of course. What's the best thing people buy these days?” you say, reaching for some salad without even looking at Bojan. “When he found out I collect pieces, he became very interested. Offered me a generous check but…” You pause letting your words hang in the air as you stab your fork into a cherry tomato. “I’m not too sure. I just don’t trust him. No offense.”

The statement lands like a stone in the quiet room, and you take the opportunity to glance around at the table. The flicker of surprise, curiosity, and unease in their expressions is exactly what you wanted. You chuckle lightly, leaning back in your seat. “But anyway" you say breezily, as if brushing it all aside. “Enough work talk. Let’s dig in.”

Bojan’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes lingering on you. “You heard the lady" he says his tone laced with amusement as he raises his glass. “Let’s dig in everyone.”

Rafe’s hand slides over yours his fingers curling around yours in a gentle, reassuring squeeze. At this point, the intimacy feels natural like the way you breathe without thinking. You’ve grown used to the affection.

But then you feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you. You look up, and there she is Katherine. Her eyes are fixed on you both cold, her lips pulled into a tight, judgmental line. Bitch.

Without thinking twice you shift closer to Rafe, your side brushing against his as you lean in just a little more, making sure she knows exactly where you stand. You may be pretending, but that doesn’t mean you have to let her think she has a chance with Rafe.

She immediately looks away

After a relaxing dinner filled with light conversation, the group moves to the garden patio. It’s expansive, luxurious no surprise there.

You find yourself standing near the pool, the cool evening air mixing with the soft hum of chatter around you. Andrea stands beside you, her presence calming as always.

“So, how are you enjoying the vacation so far?”

You smile, looking out over the water. “Good. We really needed this break from work.”

Andrea chuckles softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah everyone does. Although we don’t exactly live here… this place feels like home to me.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, as if absorbing the serenity of the moment.

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “How long have you two been married?”

A soft smile tugs at Andrea’s lips as she reflects, her eyes distant for a moment. “Forty years.”

The weight of her words settles in. “I was married when I was 19" she adds quietly, almost as an afterthought, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

“Marriage is hard" Andrea says with a sigh “I mean, you’ve only been married this year, so you wouldn’t know that much yet. You learn how to be quiet, turn a blind eye, forgive things you never thought you could.” She vents the weight of her words hanging in the air, before she softens her expression. “I really hope marriage is kind to you Jane. You’re a good woman.”

If you only knew.

She doesn’t seem to notice the flicker of something, uncertainty. “But I don’t doubt it. Drew’s amazing too. He really loves you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze for a moment. Have we been that convincing?

Andrea watches you carefully, her eyes softening with understanding. “It’s the way you two look at each other. You can be all annoyed with each other-”

You can say that again.

“-but in the end, it’s the little things that give it away. The smiles after each argument. The little gestures of affection. That’s what shows the love, even when it’s unspoken.”

You swallow unsure of how to respond, you'd be lying if you said her words didnt make your heart flutter

Andrea laughs touching your ring "And of course this"

You glance at the ring, fake ring. Fake marriage, of course

All of this is fake

“Yeah I really got lucky with this one" you manage to say, though the words feel heavier than they should.

Andrea glances down at her empty glass with a slight groan. “Ugh let me go top this up" she mutters, then pauses, eyeing the room. “And figure out why Katie’s wandering around like that”

You laugh nodding in agreement. “Good luck with that"

As you turn to gaze at the pool, the cool ripples reflecting the dim lights, her words start to sink in.

What looks was she talking about? The way we look at each other hasn’t changed… has it?

Hatred. Annoyance.

That’s all it’s ever been. That’s all it should be.

Right?

But the longer you stare at your reflection, the less certain you feel.

Rafe doesn’t miss the way Bojan and Diego exchange glances towards him, their hushed conversation carrying just enough tension to confirm that everything is going according to plan.

As his gaze drifts back to the drinks he notices the maid reaching for an olive to drop into your martini.

“No without the olive please" he stops her just in time.

The memory flashes through his mind, you casually mentioning how much you hate olives. He isn’t sure why it stuck with him but it did. For some reason, he remembered.

Rafe picks up your martini and his whiskey, his gaze sweeping across the patio until it locks on you. He notices the way your fingers fidget with your bracelet- your tell when nervous.

Without hesitation he starts walking toward you, ignoring the faint call of his name from

Katherine. He doesn’t even glance back. Whatever she wants, it’s irrelevant.

When he reaches you, his arm slides around your shoulder in a smooth motion. He pulls you in close the heat of his touch grounding you as he holds your martini just within reach the movement casual but deliberate.

“Gracias" you murmur with a faint smirk, grabbing the glass

Rafe rolls his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping him. “Will you ever let that go?”

“Never" you reply a teasing edge to your voice as you take a sip of your martini.

The conversation fades leaving a comfortable silence between you. The cool night breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the distant hum of conversation from the others.

It feels good. The quiet. The closeness.

This feels good. Too good.

Rafe leans in, his lips brushing just close enough to your ear to send a shiver down your spine. “We did good" he whispers

Your breath hitches and for a second, you swear your knees might give out. “What?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying we did good" he repeats, giving you goosebumps. “Bojan and Diego they’re talking about us.”

As you glance over, you spot Bojan heading in your direction. But Rafe doesn't care about him

now. He’s looking at you. His gaze lingers on the way your hair brushes against his face, the faint scent of your perfume catching his attention. You smell good.

“He’s coming" you whisper your breath warm against his jaw, the closeness making your voice barely audible. “We’ll talk to him for a bit, then I’ll slip away to Diego’s room see if I can find anything. Can you keep Bojan occupied long enough?”

“Easy angel”

“My favorite people" Bojan exclaims with a boisterous laugh as he steps up beside you both

“Please don’t stop the compliments now" you joke waving your hand dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

To your mild surprise Bojan chuckles, the sound deep and unrestrained. “She’s funny" he says, his eyes briefly scanning you with amusement. “I like her.”

Rafe nods "That makes two of us"

Bojan clears his throat, glancing around. “So I have a proposition for you"

“We’re listening"

Bojan flashes a smile his gold tooth gleaming in the soft light. “What if we make a deal?” He leans forward exuding confidence. “I’ve always been a fan of art…”

Got you.

“…and I feel it isn’t appreciated enough these days. I’m sure you, Jane, agree" He gestures toward you and you nod, playing your part perfectly. “I want to buy the pieces you offered Harris. I’ll pay double for them. And if Drew can find me a luxurious condo or an art gallery that would be a perfect fit…”

You pinch Rafe’s hand lightly, sending a subtle signal- we’ve got him now.

Bojan continues his tone taking on an almost syrupy sweetness. “I’ve always loved helping people, especially kids.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens at the words his impulse to punch Bojan rising, but he swallows it down, knowing the game they’re playing.

Bojan leans back his expression taking on a hint of sincerity, though it’s all fake. “So when I buy your pieces- and I’ll sell them of course seventy percent of the proceeds will go to charity. A charity for kids in need" He says it with such heartfelt conviction, it’s clear he’s trying to sell you on the idea that his intentions are pure.

Bojan leans forward, his voice full of excitement. “Think about it"

You turn to Rafe your expression softening. “Hm, what do you think baby?” you ask

Rafe pauses for a moment pretending to weigh the offer, then looks back at you his voice dripping with uncertainty. “I mean it is a pretty good deal, right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod slowly, playing along. “I’d say so" you reply your voice carrying just the right amount of thoughtfulness. “I mean, the money goes to charity, for kids.”

Bojan beams clearly pleased that he’s got you both where he wants you. “Yes yes" he nods eagerly, feeding into the idea.

You add with a touch of sympathy "So why not? We’re helping kids after all.” You let the words linger as though the sheer goodness of the idea is enough to seal the deal.

“So that’s a yes then" Rafe laughs. He claps Bojan’s hand firmly the sound of their palms connecting sharp in the quiet of the room. Bojan’s pleased expression widens, clearly thinking he’s won you over.

You’d love to celebrate, but you have workd to do. As you pretend to be caught off guard, you purposefully spill your drink onto your dress letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh my god" you exclaim, quickly pulling away from Rafe as if mortified. “Got a little too excited there.”

The croatian laughs clearly enjoying the scene while Rafe lets out a low chuckle. “I mean, we are making a pretty great deal" Bojan says with a grin shrugging as if it’s only natural. “Excitement should be through the roof right?”

You let out a dramatic pout, already stepping away from the group. “I’ll let you men continue celebrating and talking more" you say with a light chuckle, “I need to go dry this off somehow.”

As you start to move you catch sight of Andrea and quickly make your way over to her. Grabbing her arm you feign frustration. “Where’s the bathroom? I accidentally spilled some drink on myself, and I don’t want this dress to smell or get ruined.”

Andrea gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh of course, Missy.” She turns to call for a maid who immediately appears by her side. “Sweetie can you take her to my bathroom? We’re renovating the guest bathroom, sorry you have to use mine.”

You don't have to be sorry for that Andrea

You smile graciously shaking your head. “Oh

don’t worry at all Andrea. I won’t be long.” You gesture for the maid to lead the way. “Lead the way Missy.”

Rafe smiles as you walk away his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns back to Bojan. “You really did a number on this island" he says his tone light but laced with a hint of sarcasm. “I’ve never been here before, so I can’t compare it to how it was, but if I had to guess… it must’ve been a complete dump.”

Bojan laughs slapping Rafe on the shoulder with a hearty chuckle. “It was all dirt" he admits, the amusement evident in his voice.

Rafe grins as he gives a playful shrug. “I can imagine.”

“So the contract" Rafe says. “I’m leaving soon, got meetings back home. When should we sign it? Tomorrow?”

Bojan groans rubbing his temple. “Tomorrow’s packed with meetings. You know what? The day after tomorrow, I’m hosting a gala for another charity. Why don’t you and Jane come? It’ll be the perfect time to discuss everything.”

Rafe’s expression remains cool, but inside his heart races. This was it, the moment you two had been waiting for. Bojan had finally extended the invite. You both played your parts flawlessly, pretending to be just another successful rich couple, all while getting closer to him. The mission was moving forward exactly as planned.

He leaned forward slightly his eyes narrowing as he made sure his response sounded just the right amount of enthusiastic. “Oh really?” his tone masking the thrill that pulsed through him. “That sounds great. Yeah we’ll be there.”

Internally, Rafe grinned. You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Bojan

Bojan chuckles, a deep, contented laugh, patting his belly with pride. “Good. It’ll be a night to remember”

Bojan’s thick accent cut through the air, his voice sharp with irritation. “Where is that idiot- Karlo?” He called out, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Karlo come here.”

Rafe didn’t expect the bulky man to march right next to them, looming over the group like an unwelcome shadow. The same man they’d crossed paths with before, someone who already was suspicious of them. The moment his eyes locked onto Rafe his expression darkened.

He didn't fucking need this too

“Yes… sir"

Bojan waved a dismissive hand toward Rafe, oblivious to the tension radiating from his bodyguard. “Give Mr. Starkey here our invite. He and his wife will be joining us.”

Rafe met Karlo’s eyes, briefly acknowledging the unspoken challenge in the man’s stare. He didn’t flinch. It’s just a matter of time, Rafe thought, Before he figures out more than he should.

“Of course… sir" Karlo muttered his eyes still fixed on Rafe as he pulled the invite from his pocket, handing it over with a deliberate slowness.

The paper was thick, smart considering digital invites could easily be intercepted or hacked. Rafe nodded, appreciating their cautiousness.

“Thank you" Rafe said tucking the invite into his pocket but he didn’t expect Karlo to walk away just yet. The silence between them stretched longer than he expected and then Karlo spoke, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Could you find the meat you wanted?”

Fuck you

“Yeah we went to a restaurant. Happy wife, happy life" he replied with a chuckle trying to play it off.

Bojan raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What meat? You two have met?”

Karlo turned slowly. “Yeah they came around the butcher shop. They wanted lamb meat. For his pregnant wife.”

“Pregnant? You didn’t tell us Starkey" Bojan says with a smile clearly amused.

Rafe chuckles giving a small shrug as if he's shy about the announcement. “It’s still early didn’t want to spread the word just yet… but yeah, she’s pregnant.”

Bojan clinks his glass against Rafe’s with a grin. “Congratulations.” His eyes narrow slightly, curious. “But wait- wasn’t she drinking alcohol?”

Rafe’s stomach tightens for a split second, but he keeps his composure, laughing it off. He gestures toward the lemonade on the table. “No, no. It was lemonade. Careful Bojan, I don’t want my child to turn out an alcoholic.”

“Isn’t he funny- oh come on Karlo laugh a little" Bojan urges with a grin though his smile quickly fades when Karlo remains stone-faced. “Always so grumpy… I keep telling him he needs to get laid.”

Rafe smirks a mischievous glint in his eye. “Suggestion? Katherine might be a good match for him.”

Bojan’s expression shifts instantly from amusement to disbelief. “Who’s- god not her.” He chuckles shaking his head. “I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy.”

Rafe forces a smile. At least he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Now all he could do was hope you had what you needed. You’d been gone far too long, and it is eating him out alive

“Goddamn stupid safe,” you mutter, frustration creeping into your voice as you fumble with the lock. Fifteen minutes had passed, and still nothing. Normally, you were skilled with these things, but this safe? This was a whole new level.

When you first entered Diego’s room, you’d started your search immediately, but nothing. It was like he’d cleaned up in anticipation. But then, you noticed the door leading to his office, and by some stroke of luck, it was left ajar.

You went through his drawers, but found nothing of interest. No laptop, no files, nothing that could help. But then your eyes landed on it: the safe.

You had to get in. And fast.

“Come on" you whisper under your breath, fingers trembling slightly as you dial in the third digit. “Just one more… fuck yes.”

The soft cling of the lock is music to your ears, the best sound you’ve heard all week. A rush of triumph surges through you, but it’s fleeting. As soon as you open the safe your smile falters.

It’s packed to the brim with cash.

“Idiot" you mutter your irritation bubbling up. Why the hell is he wasting my time on this? You notice the safe’s interior is far smaller than it appears from the outside. So no time to waste, your hands move swiftly pulling out stacks of bills and discarding them one by one.

Then your eyes catch something, a small handle hidden beneath the money. A smirk curls on your lips. You’re not that smart Mr. Gomez.

You grab the handle and open the surface with a quiet click the small compartment revealing its contents: files and a phone.

Sitting down you grab the phone first and connect it to yours sending a quick message to Pope. You don’t even wait for his confirmation. It’s a waste of time. You set the phone aside, turning your attention to the files stacked in front of you.

The first one is a contract. You recognize the terms instantly, women for sale bought and paid for like property. It doesn’t shock you anymore, but the cold truth still tightens your chest. It’s just another transaction, another group of lives lost to men like Bojan. You put the file down with a tight breath, your hands steady but your mind racing.

You move to the next file flipping it open. It’s a list of names, and underneath the grim labels of organs being harvested. You take it in, your stomach a little tight, but you don’t flinch.

The photographs are worse though. The women in them are barely recognizable, their faces obscured, their bodies marked with numbers. Your jaw tightens the anger you’ve learned to hide simmering just below the surface. You don’t let it control you not here not now.

You pause for a moment taking a breath. You don’t need to process it all, this is the reality of the job. You’ve seen worse. You will see worse. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get under your skin. It just doesn’t stop you. You’ve come too far for that.

Without a second thought, you stand up and make your way to the printer. You power it on, your fingers moving swiftly as you place the contract in position and hit PRINT.

“Come on" you mutter under your breath, tapping your foot impatiently as the machine begins its work. Once the first page begins to feed through, you grab the next file and then another, sending them through one by one.

As the printer hums in the background, you reach into your bag and pull out a small bug. You slip it discreetly under the desk then move to the lamp carefully placing the second one behind it. This will do.

You grab your phone from the ground, remove the cable from his phone. Rafes message caught your eye

“Where are you?”

You exhale sharply. Not now Rafe.

The last sheet of paper comes through the printer, and you waste no time. You snatch the original files, Diego’s phone and stuff them back into the compartment shutting it quickly. Without hesitation you grab the cash shoving it back in as well.

Then you hear footsteps.

You freeze muscles tensing as the sound grows closer, nearing the office. Your heart starts to race, but you push it down. Slowly you reach for your gun feeling its weight in your hand as you silently click the safety off. The door creaks open and you’re on your feet in an instant, gun aimed directly at the person.

“Put the gun down" it was Rafe. You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface, but you do as he says sliding the gun back into your bag with a dismissive huff.

“What are you doing here?” you snap

“You were taking too damn long" Rafe snaps back he steps closer his eyes flicking down to the money scattered on the floor.

“Be a good boy and put the money back in the safe" you smirk. “I’ll grab the files.”

Rafe exhales sharply, irritated but compliant, and crouches down to handle the cash as you reach for the printed files. With a quick motion, you slip them under your short dress, tucking them discreetly into your bra, making sure they’re hidden securely.

“The bulky man from the butcher shop" Rafe says, his voice low as he closes the case. You hum in response.

“He’s Bojan’s guard" Rafe adds his tone a bit more serious.

You groan, frustration creeping up your spine. “Why is that guy everywhere?”

Rafe’s expression darkens. “And he fucking told Bojan that you’re 'pregnant'. He mentioned the butcher shop, everything.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your eyes widen in disbelief.

“What- did he get suspicious?”

Rafe shakes his head his jaw tight. “At first, yeah. But I threw him off.” He pauses, eyes scanning the room, still on edge. “For now at least.”

“But" the blonde man grins, pulling a card from his pocket "we got this.”

You blink realizing it’s not just any card, it’s an invitation.

You gasp, disbelief clear in your voice. “You’re joking right?”

Rafe shakes his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No angel. We really got invited.”

You really should stop and think before acting, but in that moment, all you can do is run into his arms, jumping into him with pure excitement.

“Fuck yes!” you exclaim

Rafe’s deep laugh vibrates through his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body presses against you, and your heart races as the reality of the situation sets in.

“Alright we can celebrate later" he says, his voice low and steady. “But right now, we need to move.” Gently he sets you down, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

He grabs your hand without hesitation, pulling you toward the door. The urgency in his grip sets your heart racing as you step out of Diego’s bedroom and into the hallway.

The air feels tense heavy, like it’s waiting to explode. You turn left but the sharp echo of footsteps freezes you in place heavy, deliberate, and closing in fast.

Rafe exhales sharply his jaw clenching. There’s no mistaking that sound. The steady animalistic rhythm belongs to Karlo. Even earlier when Rafe left to find you, Karlo’s hawk-like gaze had never wavered from him.

Without warning Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you. His expression is unreadable, calm but laced with something raw something desperate. “Sorry- not really sorry"

“What?” you whisper your pulse hammering in your ears.

“Kiss me back"

“Kiss you—”

You don’t get the chance to finish. His hand cups the side of your face, and then his lips crash onto yours. The kiss isn’t rough, though—there’s a surprising softness to it, a deliberate slowness that steals your breath.

His lips are warm, impossibly soft, and they move against yours with a confidence that makes you forget, for one maddening second, where you are or why this is happening.

Heat blooms in your chest spreading through you in a way that makes your knees weak. And then the realization hits you like a punch, you like this. Too much.

You curse yourself silently, caught between the intensity of the moment and the sheer absurdity of it. Why didn’t you do this sooner? Why does it feel so damn right when everything else is so wrong?

But you give in, the tension in your body melting as your hands find their way to his neck. Slowly, deliberately, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Your lips respond to his meeting him with an intensity that surprises even you.

And Rafe? He loses himself completely.

The kiss is slow. Exactly how he likes it unhurried, yet charged with emotion. It’s everything he didn’t realize he needed, and more than he ever dared to hope for.

He could've walked off with some excuse about needing to use the bathroom, even if it might have raised suspicion. He could’ve handled it, found another way.

But none of that mattered. Not when his mind had been screaming at him to do this to kiss you.

Because from the moment you stepped onto the cruise with him, he’d wanted nothing else. Now, with the taste of your lips, sweet with a hint of something intoxicating- he knows there’s no going back. You’ve wrecked him with one kiss, and as much as he likes being in control, he realizes he’s never been more undone.

Then it stops. The moment shatters as someone clears their throat once, then again louder this time.

Your eyes flutter open and Rafe pulls back slowly, the spell between you broken. His lips are smudged with red the evidence of your kiss impossible to ignore.

Rafe’s gaze flickers toward the croatian man, he has a scowl etched across his face. You, still catching your breath, find yourself staring at Rafe’s side profile for a moment before shifting your attention to the man again.

“Sorry man-

The man’s sneer deepens. “What are you two doing here?”

Your lips press into a thin line fighting the urge to laugh “Sorry" you say, feeling embarrassed. “Things… got out of control. I went to the bathroom, and he came looking for me, and then, well this happened.” You gesture vaguely between you and Rafe.

Rafe nods, his expression sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah sorry about that" he adds offering a small, apologetic smile

The man’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t press further, his expression suggesting he’s more annoyed than suspicious. You can only hope he buys it.

“The guests are leaving" Karlo says slowly,

“Got it. We’ll be heading out too" Rafe replies

You don’t waste a second. Sliding your hand into Rafe’s, you squeeze it firmly as if to ground both of you then flash Karlo a polite smile. “Thanks for letting us know" you say lightly

Karlo’s gaze hardens his eyes narrowing slightly, but he doesn’t stop you as you lead Rafe away. You wave over your shoulder a quick dismissive gesture. “Goodnight"

Once you’re out of his sight, the tension in your chest unravels in a sharp exhale. Your steps falter but you don't release Rafe’s hand. “That was way too close" you mutter

Rafe doesn’t reply only giving a brief nod, his jaw tight as he follows your lead. His mind, however is far from the present moment. It’s still tangled up in the kiss the way your lips moved against his, the way you felt pressed so close.

He steals a glance at you, his throat tightening. He can still taste the faint sweetness of your lips and it’s doing nothing to help the situation brewing below. Shifting uncomfortably, he shoves his hands into his pockets silently praying you don’t notice the very real problem he’s trying to manage.

You usually had no problem handling awkward situations. Most of the time, you couldn’t care less.

But not this time.

You sat across from Rafe at the small table, watching him sift through the files with a stony expression. The silence between you was heavier than usual, stretched taut like a rubber band about to snap.

He hadn’t said a word, not when you left Andreas house, not during the tense walk back to the house, not even when you handed him the files. His focus was razor-sharp, his brow furrowed as he scanned each page.

It wasn’t hard to see the shift in his demeanor as he read. The more he took in, the angrier he became. His jaw clenched, his grip on the papers tightening as if he might tear them in half.

You couldn’t blame him. You’d seen the same things he was seeing now, and the vile details were enough to churn anyone’s stomach. Still the tension in the air made your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if his silence was directed at the files or at you. Or at both

The kiss… Did he hate it? Did he regret it?

The thought wormed its way into your mind, and the more you dwelled on it, the hotter your frustration burned. You hated feeling this way uncertain, second guessing yourself. And worst of all, you hated the idea that he might be silently judging you for something he initiated.

Fine, if he hated it that was his problem. You sure as hell weren’t going to lose sleep over it, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

Then Rafe stood up abruptly the movement snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your jaw tightened as you watched him.

Without a word he yanked off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the couch. He couldn’t be near you right now, not with the memory of the kiss still burning in his mind, not with the way he wanted to close the gap again. If he stayed, he knew he’d lose control. And as much as he wanted to kiss you again, he couldn’t let that happen.

So in a show of restraint he could barely muster, he walked to the bathroom instead. Grabbing his toothbrush, he squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste onto it and started brushing his teeth. The repetitive motion was grounding, a distraction from the chaotic thoughts clawing at him.

But, of course, you being you, you walked right into the bathroom without hesitation.

Rafe didn’t even glance your way at first, though he could feel your presence like a spark in the air. He knew exactly what you were doing—pushing him testing his limits. You weren’t the type to brush your teeth without first taking off your makeup, doing your skincare routine, and changing into your pajamas.

He bit back a smirk the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. You sly little vixen.

The bathroom was steeped in silence, save for the rhythmic sound of brushes scraping against teeth and the steady flow of water from the faucet.

Rafe bent forward spitting into the sink. He straightened sparing you a glance as you stepped closer mirroring his movements. Leaning down you spit into the sink as well.

You rinse your toothbrush slowly, the silence between you two thickening almost unbearable. Then just to test him, you stretch your arm making sure to brush your hand lightly against his chest as you place your brush on the other side.

But instead of leaning in or teasing you like he usually would, he steps back. His movement is subtle but it’s enough to create a noticeable distance between you.

You freeze for a second irritation flickering through you. He never backed off, never. Usually he’d stay close, just enough to push your buttons, to get under your skin but this? This felt different, and it pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

You turn to him, your voice cuts through the stillness, a mix of confusion and annoyance. “Okay what’s your problem?”

Rafe looks at you, his eyes unreadable for the first time tonight. His lips press together for a moment before he finally responds. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? You’ve been ignoring me-"

Rafe cuts you off with a frustrated huff. “I have not.”

“Yes have. Don’t lie.” You can feel your irritation rising with every word. “Ever since we left the house, you’ve been shutting me out. You didn’t even look at me. I told you about the files, nothing. I handed you the files and asked you something, silence. And now, you’re backing away from me like you can’t even be near me?”

Rafe sighs his gaze shifting to meet yours. He sees the anger in your eyes, and for a moment, he understands.

“I’m just tired, angel” he groans, turning to leave, but you step in front of the door, blocking his way.

“Lying again" you snap in disbelief “You’re not tired Rafe. Lie to whoever you want, but don’t think I’ll buy it.”

Before he can say anything, you press on, your words coming faster, more forceful.

“If you didn’t want to kiss me, why’d you do it in the first place? Or if you regret it, just be a man and say it. Don’t keep acting like a damn child—”

He cuts you off then, his hands gripping your face with surprising force, pulling you toward him. Before you can react, his lips crash against yours, silencing everything.

This kiss isn’t slow or soft like the last one it’s hungry, urgent. The kind of kiss that tells you there’s more beneath the surface. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes like he’s trying to fuse you into him.

You pull away just slightly, enough to catch your breath, your pulse racing in your ears. He meets your gaze, his lips curling into a low quiet chuckle. “If I regretted the kiss angel” he says, his voice husky, a hint of amusement threading through "I wouldn’t be doing this.”

The words settle in your chest and without another thought, you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him back to you. The tension you’d felt moments before evaporates in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming need to feel him, to erase the distance.

His hands respond without thought, one hand sliding up your back, the other tightening around your waist pulling you closer, impossibly closer. You can feel his heart racing just like yours the heat of his body pressing into you, and the intensity of the kiss deepens. His lips move against yours with need

Without breaking the rhythm, he moves, guiding you toward the bedroom, his grip never wavering. Every step he takes is deliberate, every movement a promise of more.

He pats your leg a subtle signal, and without a word you understand. In a heartbeat you’re in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you effortlessly, the kiss still searing between you.

Without breaking it, he moves toward the bedroom, his grip never wavering. He slowly lowers you onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours. His mouth trails along your jaw, down your neck, his kisses soft yet intense leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A soft moan escapes your lips, as you arch into him, your fingers curling into his buzzcut, nails grazing his scalp in response to the pleasure.

Every touch, every kiss heightening the tension between you, making it impossible to think about anything other than the heat building with each passing second.

In the next few minutes, everything becomes a blur. One moment you’re kissing him, and the next you find yourself straddling Rafe, your dress forgotten on the floor.

You’re perched on his lap, his body leaning back against the headboard his breath ragged. His hands are everywhere, one gripping your ass pulling you closer, while the other moves higher, trailing along your side before resting at the clasp of your bra.

The soft beep cuts through the airalmost unnoticed at first, lost in the haze of the moment. But just as Rafe’s hand moves to unclasp your bra, a sudden, sharp realization hits you.

Someone’s coming.

You pull away from the kiss, your head snapping toward the table where the files are scattered open.

Rafe groans in frustration, his hands gripping your face as he tries to pull you back, but you slap his hand away, urgency replacing any trace of desire. “Someone is coming"

The bell rings

You exchange a glance, both of you instantly on high alert. You scramble to your feet, your heart pounding as you rush to the table, grabbing the files in a frantic motion. Rafe stands up quickly, his body tense, moving toward the door

Rafe’s hand instinctively moves to his gun his fingers brushing the cold metal as he opens the door, ready for anything. But when he sees the redhead standing there with that infuriating smile, his annoyance spikes. She’s holding a plate in her hands, and for a moment he almost shoots her on pure reflex.

She notices him standing shirtless, and her smile falters just slightly, her gaze lingering on him a bit too long before she swallows and straightens up.

Rafe’s patience snaps. “Can I help you?” he asks, If he had known she’d be standing on the other side of the door, he wouldn’t have even bothered to open it.

He’d pulled away from you, because of her

Katherine’s eyes flicker to his lips, and her smile falters when she notices the faint trace of red lipstick smeared across them. Her expression shifts but she quickly recovers, forcing a smile as she steps forward with the plate in hand.

“Hi Drew" she says her voice faltering slightly as she holds the dessert out to him. “I… I brought you some cheesecake. You said you liked it.”

The moment you hear her voice a wave of frustration hits you so hard, you’re tempted to march out there and slam her head against the nearest wall. She’s crazy

Quickly you hide the files, your mind racing. Grabbing Drew’s shirt, you pull it on over your head, taking a steadying breath before moving toward the door.

"I'm fine" Rafe tries to close the door, you hear her voice again, persistent and annoyingly chipper.

“It’s no problem really. Take it" she insists.

You step up beside Rafe, nudging closer to him, and without missing a beat, he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You can feel the tension in his muscles, but you lean into him, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Katherine hi" you say, your voice dripping with sweetness. “We didn’t expect you.”

She looks at you, her expression twitching as she tries to mask the scowl forming on her face. “Jane… hi"

You tilt your head slightly raising an eyebrow as if silently daring her to say something more. Try me bitch.

“I just wanted to give Drew-uh, you guys cheesecake"

You smile sweetly, stepping a little closer to Rafe as you speak. “That’s really sweet but we’ve got some leftover pie. We wouldn’t want to overdo it with all the sweetness" you say casually watching her smile falter and fall completely her composure cracking in an instant.

Rafe smiles at your words, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he tugs you gently, trying to pull you along with him.

But you remain still, not budging an inch. Your eyes lingering on him as you bite your lip. Once he’s gone you turn toward Katherine, your expression hardening as you close the door a little

“I know what you’re doing" you say your voice cold and unwavering. “Drop it. It won’t work.”

You hold her gaze for a moment longer, watching the frustration flash across her face. Without another word, you slam the door shut, leaving Katherine standing there, fuming on the other side.

You both return to what you had left behind, picking up where you were so abruptly interrupted.

Rafe had been wrong, he did in fact end up using the condoms

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader smut #rafe imagine #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #angst #fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #Spotify

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bamgyuuuri · 1 day ago

Text

⤷ love. ┈ kth.

sypnosis. taehyun was perfect. he was attentive, caring, kind... who were you kidding—he was everything you wanted and more. but when a fight seems to have shattered whatever it was between you, it felt like all that warmth vanished. even after everything, can love survive when it feels like it’s already been lost?

pairings and tags. suitor!taehyun x reader ft. friend!beomgyu . fluff . angst . mentions of alcohol/being inebriated . taehyun is a huge sweetheart . slight misunderstandings . drunken confession . emotional hurt/comfort . lmk if i missed any!

word count. 6.9k

short note … just a little something before i lock in for finals heh ,, it was supposed to be situationsip!taehyun, but i feel like this suits him way more <3 do let me know ur thoughts! ^_^

for the past few months, taehyun had been nothing short of perfect as your suitor.

it all started on a warm spring afternoon, the kind where the air felt soft and the sun kissed everything golden. you were at the bleachers, minding your own business, when taehyun—a boy you’d seen around but never really spoken to—walked up to you with a nervous smile.

“hi,” he started, his voice soft but steady. his round face was a little pink, and his boba-like eyes darted around as if he were trying to gather courage from the trees and the sky. “do you, uh, wanna be friends?”

you blinked, surprised. there wasn’t a single person who wouldn’t find him attractive—he practically radiated charm without even trying. but there was something endearingly awkward about him in that moment, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.

“sure,” you said, smiling back. his grin stretched wide.

and just like that, taehyun slowly but surely became a part of your life.

taehyun wasn’t like anyone you’d met before. he talked a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but it never felt overbearing. his stories were funny, his observations sharp, and his quick wit always left you laughing. it didn’t matter if he was teasing you about your choice of coffee or launching into an impromptu debate about why gukbap was an underrated masterpiece of korean cuisine—taehyun always found a way to make everything more entertaining.

but it wasn’t just the humor that pulled you in. there was a warmth to taehyun that people often overlooked. he had this way of making you feel safe, like no matter what you said or did, he’d still look at you with those soft, doe eyes, full of understanding and adoration.

people often called him cold, saying he was hard to read. “taehyun?” you’d heard someone say once, scoffing. “he’s like ice—untouchable and impossible to melt.”

but they didn’t know him like you did.

they hadn’t seen the way his smile lit up when he saw you across the room or how he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk to keep you safe. they didn’t know how often he sent you random memes with captions that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or how he’d hold out his hand wordlessly when you seemed upset, giving you the option to take it if you wanted comfort.

“you’re so warm, you know,” you’d said to him one day, unable to stop yourself.

he had blinked at you, surprised. “me? warm? no, i’m as cold as antarctica, you know.”

“far from it! you’re wrong, you know,” you retorted simply, watching his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink as he tried to hide his pleased smile.

as the weeks passed, taehyun’s presence became something you craved. his texts were the first thing you looked forward to in the morning, and his voice notes were your favorite way to end the day. his humor, his thoughtfulness, the way he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company… taehyun was now someone you absolutely could not function without.

one time, on a quiet, dreary afternoon, you found yourself on the bus, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. you were exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally drained from everything that had been going on. the bus was crowded, with people standing along the aisles, and the gentle rocking of the vehicle made it almost impossible to stay awake.

your head bobbed forward, then snapped back upright. you blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of sleep that threatened to overtake you. it was hopeless.

in the midst of the hum of the engine and the low murmur of conversations, you felt a sudden warmth near your shoulder.

taehyun, who had been sitting beside you, noticed your struggle before you even realized it. his eyes softened as he saw your head sway again, and without a second thought, he gently shifted closer.

you barely had time to react before his shoulder was against yours, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"hey," he whispered, his tone soothing, "come here."

confused, you looked up at him just as his hand, warm and steady, reached out and gently guided your head to rest against his shoulder. you froze for a moment, the soft pressure of his body against yours both comforting and unexpected.

"you've had a long day," he murmured, his voice low and quiet, meant only for you. "just rest. i’ve got you."

his words, paired with the soft, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, made it impossible to resist. you found yourself closing your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. taehyun's shoulder was a perfect cushion, and for the first time in hours, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

the bus ride felt different now—less harsh, more like a safe cocoon. taehyun was there, and though he didn’t say anything else, he just let you rest against him. his shoulder was warm, and his presence was like a balm to your tired soul.

when you glanced up at him a few moments later, you saw him looking down at you with a soft, almost shy smile, as if he was unsure whether he’d done the right thing.

but the way your head naturally settled back against him told him everything he needed to know.

"thank you," you whispered, barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

taehyun's smile widened slightly, a hint of something sweeter in his gaze. "always."

taehyun was always there—waiting for you after class, sharing random stories, tying your shoelaces for you—but it was subtle. little moments that let you know he cared without even saying it out loud.

you couldn’t help but notice how much effort he put into the smallest things, how he’d remember details you’d mentioned in passing, how he was always looking for ways to make you smile. his affection was like a soft current, pulling you in gently but steadily.

but even with all that, taehyun had been cautious. he didn’t rush, never pressured you to do anything you disliked. he was patient, always giving you space when you needed it, but his actions spoke louder than words—whether it was the way he’d stay beside you no matter how late it was or how he’d make sure you had everything you needed, no questions asked.

deep down, you could tell that he was waiting for the right moment to be honest with you, but it didn’t make the anticipation any less nerve-wracking for him.

then came the night he confessed.

it was under a canopy of stars, the two of you sitting on swings after a spontaneous late-night walk. the cool breeze of the evening gently brushed past, the soft creaking of the swings blending with the distant hum of the city. the moment was peaceful, but there was a quiet tension in the air. taehyun had been unusually quiet, his fingers clasped tightly together as he stared down at the ground, his brows furrowed just slightly.

you glanced at him, sensing the change in his demeanor. “is something wrong?” you asked softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder, trying to draw him back into the comfort of the moment.

he let out a slow exhale, his breath shaky, and finally looked up at you. the nervousness in his eyes was almost tangible, but beneath it was something real—something deep. he shifted slightly, his gaze steady on yours, and then, almost shyly, he spoke.

“i like you,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “more than a friend.” his words were simple, but they held so much weight, like a fragile thing that had been built up over time.

you froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat. the world around you seemed to slow, everything fading into the background except for the way taehyun’s gaze lingered on you, full of hope and sincerity.

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” he added quickly, his voice almost a little rushed, as if the weight of his confession was making him unsure. his cheeks were dusted with the slightest pink, a sweet vulnerability in his expression. “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. but i just... i needed to tell you. because if there’s even a chance that you might like me back, i want to take it. i want to prove it to you. i’ll show you how serious i am about this—about you.”

his words hung in the air, soft and heartfelt, and you could feel every ounce of his sincerity in the way he spoke. there was no rush, no expectation. just a quiet plea for you to see him—not as someone to entertain, but as someone who truly wanted to be with you, if you'd let him.

the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. taehyun wasn’t just saying words, he meant every single one of them.

for a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart swelling with warmth and affection for the boy who stood before you, so open and vulnerable. emotions swirled inside you—surprise, admiration, tenderness—and for a second, everything felt so right. you took a breath, your lips curving into a soft smile, your voice barely above a whisper.

“okay,” you said, the words carrying a gentle promise, “show me.”

the moment those words left your lips, taehyun’s face lit up, his smile breaking through his nervousness like the sun finally breaking through the clouds after a storm. it was bright, sincere, and so full of warmth that it made your heart flutter. his boba eyes sparkled with determination and something sweeter.

“i will,” he promised, his voice more confident now, as if he knew, without a doubt, that he would do everything he could to make you feel the same way. he stepped closer, his smile never fading, the kind of smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him.

and show you he did.

taehyun wasn’t the type to make grand, sweeping gestures—but it was the little things he did that made your heart melt. he noticed everything, from the smallest details to the things you might have overlooked yourself. like how you always took your coffee with just a hint of vanilla syrup, or how you hummed quietly to yourself when you were deep in thought, a soft melody that stuck with him long after you’d stopped.

on days when you seemed stressed, taehyun would appear with your favorite sweets, always knowing just what would cheer you up. whether it was the salty chips you loved or the rich chocolate that made everything feel a little better, he’d show up with a bag of comfort and a smile that said he was there to make everything okay.

“got you your usual,” he’d say, his eyes lighting up as he handed you the sweets like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“taehyun,” you’d laugh, shaking your head, “you’re doing a bit too much..”

“but i want to,” he’d reply with that boyish grin of his. “you deserve it.”

then there was the music. taehyun had an uncanny ability to pick the perfect song for every moment. it wasn’t always the most obvious choice, but it always seemed to hit the mark. he’d send you playlists that felt like warm hugs, the kind that wrapped around you during the long, lonely afternoons, or on days when everything seemed just a little too heavy.

sometimes, he’d even show up with his earphones, insisting that you listen to a song right then and there together with him. "i swear, this one is perfect for today," he’d say, as if he could sense exactly what you needed to hear.

with each small gesture, each laugh, each moment shared, you found yourself falling for him in ways you hadn’t expected. it was slow, gentle—like the songs he’d recommend you that you didn't realize you were already singing along to until it had become a part of you.

taehyun had a way of making everything feel like it was meant to be. and before you knew it, you were already hopelessly, completely, and irrevocably falling for him.

and then came the fight.

it started so small, like a spark that quickly grew into a raging fire. you couldn’t even remember the details clearly—it was one of those moments where everything felt like it was unraveling too fast to catch your breath. all you knew was that something had been said, something that hit harder than either of you expected. maybe it was a misunderstanding, or maybe the weight of unspoken feelings finally broke through, even you could no longer fully remember.

the words spilled out before you could stop them. "don’t talk to me anymore," you’d said, your voice shaking with frustration and hurt. "i don’t want to see you ever again."

taehyun’s face had dropped, the hurt in his eyes flashing before he turned away, his lips pressing into a tight line. you couldn’t take the words back, and in that moment, you didn’t know how to fix it. the anger, the misunderstanding—it had all escalated too quickly, and now everything felt wrong.

and he did as you said. like he always does. he didn’t text you, didn’t call, didn’t reach out. it was like he had vanished. the silence stretched on for two weeks, and with every day that passed, the guilt gnawed at you.

you told yourself it was fine, that it was his decision, that you’d made your point. but deep down, the quiet was suffocating, and you couldn’t escape the feeling that you had hurt him more than you could bear.

the weight of it all pressed on you, thick and suffocating. every moment of silence felt heavier than the last, and the guilt tightened its grip with every passing day. you had told him to leave you alone—to never talk to you again. and now, two weeks later, you were left alone in the quiet, unable to fix the mess you had made.

you didn’t even realize where you were at first. your hands rested on a cold glass, your eyes staring at nothing. your mind had been lost, spiraling through all the things you’d said and the things you wished you hadn’t. everything felt distant, as if you were observing from far away, numb to everything but the regret that swirled inside you.

"hey!"

the sound of your name sliced through your thoughts like a sudden snap. you blinked, snapping out of your reverie, and looked up to see beomgyu. you hadn’t even noticed him sitting next to you until his hand was resting lightly on your shoulder, the soft pressure grounding you.

"you okay?" his voice broke through the haze, sharper than usual, laced with concern. you stared at him, your throat tight, but the words didn’t come.

you could only nod, too choked up to say anything. but beomgyu wasn’t fooled. he was watching you too closely.

"no, really. what’s going on?"

and in that moment, everything crashed over you all over again—the pain of that argument, the hurt in taehyun’s eyes, the silence you had forced between you. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

"is it taehyun?" beomgyu asked softly, as if he already knew.

you didn’t even respond, only looked down at your hands, the shame too much to face him. beomgyu let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer, his voice quieter now. "you can’t just keep pretending this doesn’t hurt, you know."

beomgyu’s words lingered in the air, the quiet weight of them sinking into your chest. you felt the guilt twist in your stomach, tightening like a vice. he wasn’t wrong, and you knew it. but how could you fix it? how could you undo the mess you’ve made?

the tears you’d been holding back welled up, but you blinked them away, frustrated. you didn’t want to break down in front of beomgyu. he was your friend, and you couldn’t let him see how much you were falling apart over someone you didn’t even date.

beomgyu didn’t push you further, though. he just sat there, his presence calm and steady, his hand still on your shoulder, offering comfort in the quietest way. after a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer now.

"look, i get it. you messed up. but you don’t have to carry all this alone." his voice was low, serious in a way that made you feel like he could see straight through you. "you can’t keep punishing yourself for it, either. if you care about him, you should fix it. because i’m telling you, sitting here and stewing in it won’t do anything. he’s hurting too, right?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut. yes, you knew that. you had to face it. he’s hurting too.

you swallowed thickly, your throat dry. "i… i don’t know if i can fix it," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "i said things... that i can’t take back. what if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?"

beomgyu shook his head, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly. "don’t make decisions for him. you can’t move forward if you don’t try." he paused for a moment, looking at you with that serious, knowing expression of his. "but if you want to fix this, you need to be honest. with him... and with yourself."

you stared at him, processing his words, the weight of them sinking in. could you really face taehyun after everything? would he even want to talk to you?

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the room felt suddenly smaller, the pressure building up in your chest. you swallowed, fighting the urge to say something, but instead you just nodded, your voice quiet. "i'll think about it."

beomgyu studied you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face before he sighed, resigned but understanding. "okay," he said softly. "just don’t wait too long."

with that, he gave you a final, searching look, as if trying to gauge whether you'd actually listen to him or not, before he turned and walked away. his footsteps gradually faded into the background noise of the bar, leaving you in the dim light, alone with your thoughts.

the silence that followed felt heavier than before, suffocating. all the noise of the bar, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the laughter—all of it felt distant now. the weight of your emotions felt like it was closing in, and before you knew it, you were swirling the glass in front of you, the amber liquid reflecting the dim lights of the bar. you didn’t want to think about taehyun, about what you had done... but there it was, practically eating you alive.

you reached for your drink, the burn of alcohol sliding down your throat, and the numbness it brought was almost a relief. you didn't have to feel the ache in your chest for a little while. the weight of everything—of the fight, the hurt, the silence—began to feel a little lighter. just a little. you took another sip, and another, and then another.

your mind was swirling, everything a blur of feelings and thoughts that you couldn't quite put together. the alcohol dulled everything, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back in; did he hate you now? did he regret everything he’d done for you? would you ever get to tell him how sorry you were? but the more you thought, the more you drowned in it, and you just… couldn’t deal with it right now.

you glanced around the bar again, the world around you becoming fuzzier and more distant with each drink. beomgyu's words seemed so far away now, but they still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind. “you can't keep punishing yourself for it…” you tried to push them away, but they stayed there, tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

you took another sip, feeling the warm flush spread through your body. the drink gave you the illusion of peace, but you knew it was temporary. still, it was all you could do to block out the ache.

you weren't sure how long you stayed at the bar, but it felt like hours. eventually, the glass was empty, and the warmth from the alcohol was replaced by an emptiness that wasn’t so easy to fill.

and in that emptiness, your mind drifted back to taehyun.

in your drunken haze, your fingers fumbled around your bag, your vision blurry as your hands seemed to have a mind of their own. the phone felt heavy in your hand, the screen lighting up under your unsteady grip. your heart was racing, the ache in your chest unbearable, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

without fully realizing what you were doing, you found yourself scrolling through your messages with taehyun, the familiar words blurring together through your tears. your mind was a mess, your emotions crashing down around you. but still, you kept reading. you read every message, every sweet word he’d ever sent, each one a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

why had you pushed him away? why did you say those things?

you couldn’t even breathe through the pain, the weight of regret, the heavy, sickening guilt settling over you. the memories flooded your mind, his jokes, his kindness, the way he always knew how to make you smile. and now? now there was nothing. only this cold, crushing silence.

your sobs came suddenly, the tears streaming down your face continuously. you barely even noticed the wetness, the desperation growing in your chest. you missed him. god, how you missed him.

it was like an uncontrollable force now, your hands moving almost involuntarily. through the haze of alcohol and the swirl of emotions clouding your mind, you found yourself tapping on his contact, your fingers shaking violently as the phone buzzed in your hand. no, stop, a part of you screamed. you can't do this.

but it was too late.

your thumb pressed the call button, and the ringing filled your ears, each tone swallowing you further. there was no hope left, only the suffocating weight of your mistake. why would he pick up? you thought, but still, you couldn’t stop. you just needed to hear his voice, even if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

the seconds dragged on, the ringing unrelenting, but it didn’t matter. all you wanted was the chance to fix it, to make things right… even if you knew it was too late.

then suddenly, there was a soft, "hello?"

your heart dropped straight to your stomach, but then came the harsh reality—it was voicemail.

the bitter sting of rejection hit you, but hearing his voice, even distorted by the distance, felt like a jolt of electricity rushing through you. you didn’t care. you couldn’t. all that mattered in that moment was that it was him.

but the floodgates opened.

with a choked sob, you could barely get the words out, your voice breaking, shaking with emotion as the tears flowed freely. why is it so hard to breathe? you thought. why does it feel like my heart is being torn in half?

"taehyun," you gasped, your words slurring and choked with tears. "tyun, please... please, i miss you so much. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it... i was so... so stupid. i-i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i can’t even think straight. i’m sorry... god, i’m so sorry... please forgive me..."

you didn't even care how pathetic you might sound. all you knew was that you needed taehyun—needed him to hear you, to understand, even if it meant spilling every raw feeling in your drunken state. “taehyun, please..” the words slurred out, but they were the only things in your head, the only thing that mattered.

but knowing it was simply voicemail, you simply sat there, defeated. the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. each second felt like an eternity, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every passing ring of the phone. your mind was fuzzy, each thought seeming to slip from your grasp before you could hold onto it—

"is that so?"

taehyun's voice suddenly came through, teasing, soft, and a little uncertain. you felt your heart skip, the familiar sound of him sending a rush of warmth through your veins. but something in his tone made you freeze. he was still here. after everything.

his words lingered in the air, and it was as if nothing could escape your mouth, like the weight of your own emotions was too much for your lungs to carry. you didn’t even know if you were dreaming anymore.

“taehyun?” you managed to croak, your voice thick with emotion and alcohol. it was barely more than a whisper, like you were afraid if you spoke too loudly, he'd fade away again. “is it... is it really you?”

taehyun chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, though you could hear a slight edge to it—was he worried? did he know notice how drunk you were?

“you sound… really out of it,” he said, voice tinged with amusement, but there was something gentler behind it. “are you drunk right now, sweetheart?”

you blinked, disoriented, and tried to focus. no, you wanted to say. i’m not drunk, but you knew it was pointless. the words slurred together as they escaped your mouth. “i… no...”

but your words didn’t have the strength you wanted them to. your head swam in a fog of regret and emotions you couldn’t sort through. you couldn't even hold the phone properly anymore—your fingers kept slipping, the edges of your vision swimming.

"taehyun," you muttered, your voice shaking, as if that single name could somehow fix everything. "i'm... i’m so sorry... i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean to hurt you... i—"

"hey..." taehyun interrupted softly, and there was a tenderness in his voice that made your chest ache. “slow down, alright? just breathe. where are you right now?”

the question made your heart race, not because it was unexpected, but because it grounded you, snapping you out of the fog just enough for a moment of clarity. you paused, trying to focus, but your thoughts kept spiraling. where am i? you thought, blinking slowly.

“uh...” you muttered, barely able to focus on anything but the sound of his voice. “i’m... i’m at a bar.”

taehyun was quiet for a moment, his voice softening with concern. “where exactly? where are you? i’ll come to get you.”

you couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over you. the idea of seeing him, hearing him in person, made everything else seem so much more bearable. but your tongue felt heavy, and so did your heart, and you couldn’t form the words you needed.

“i don’t... i don’t know, taehyun,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “i just... i just want you back. please... don’t leave me like this.”

taehyun’s voice was gentle, calm despite the worry in it. "i'm not going anywhere. just tell me where you are, and i'll come, okay?"

“the... the bar...” you gasped, your chest tightening. “i... i’m at the bar... it’s... it’s near... ugh... you know... that one cafe across the bus stop—”

“i know where that is. i’m on my way,” taehyun interrupted, his voice firm and reassuring. but there was an undercurrent of something—worry, maybe?—that made you feel even more fragile than before. “wait for me, okay? i’ll be there soon.”

the call ended abruptly, and the instant the silence fell, the gravity of everything hit you. you sat there, your body trembling, your heart aching like it was being torn from your chest. he was coming. taehyun was coming, and it felt like everything; every ounce of pain, every moment of regret… it was starting to slip away, only to be replaced by something even heavier—longing.

you couldn’t stop the tears. the dam you’d tried to hold back broke wide open, your sobs coming in guttural, unrestrained waves. you leaned forward, burying your face in your arms, feeling the world around you spin out of control. the alcohol did nothing but make it all worse, amplifying every raw emotion.

you were glad he was coming, but the relief was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by a dark, suffocating doubt. what if he was only coming out of obligation? what if he was simply doing the right thing—helping a drunken mess of a person get home safely—nothing more, nothing less? the thought lodged itself in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

he was coming, but the emptiness still felt too big, too consuming, as if the distance between you two might be too great for him to bridge.

what if you had ruined everything? what if your careless words, your thoughtless actions, had pushed him too far away, further than you could ever hope to reach again?

the memories of the fight replayed in your mind like a broken record—the sharpness of your voice, the way his expression had crumbled, the silence that followed. you’d told him to leave you alone, and he had. he’d respected your wish, no matter how much it must have hurt him.

and now? now, you were just a drunken mess calling him out of desperation, dragging him back into the chaos you had created.

the thought was unbearable.

your chest tightened, and you hiccupped through another sob, the ache in your heart growing heavier. what if he wasn’t coming because he still cared? what if he was only showing up because he was kind, because that’s who taehyun was—a person who couldn’t leave someone in need, no matter how badly they had hurt him?

you squeezed your eyes shut, the anguish washing over you in waves. you could still hear his voice from the call, soft and warm, but it felt so far away now. you missed him so much it physically hurt, the ache deep in your chest twisting and pulling until you couldn’t think straight.

a sob clawed its way out of your throat as your hands fisted the fabric of your blouse, desperate to hold yourself together, desperate to stop the pain from consuming you whole. your voice broke as you whispered his name into the void with a sniffle, barely audible—just a breath, a plea, a prayer.

“i’m here.”

the words were soft but steady, cutting through the chaos in your mind like a knife. something warm and comfy settled over your shoulders—a jacket. his jacket, that has his scent. familiar. comforting. your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare believe it.

but then you dared to turn your head towards him.

and there he was.

taehyun stood beside you, his boba eyes filled with worry, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched you carefully. his presence hit you like a tidal wave, a flood of emotions surging all at once—relief, longing, guilt, overwhelming love. your heart ached at the sight of him, so real, so close, after so many nights of missing him.

“let’s go home, hm?” taehyun says, his voice low and gentle, as if speaking too loudly might shatter you.

and that was your final straw.

you stumbled forward, collapsing into his chest as the tears came harder, pouring out of you like a flood that refused to be held back any longer. his scent surrounded you, comforting and achingly familiar, and his arms—those same arms you had missed more than you could ever say—wrapped around you tightly.

for a moment, his hold was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him there. but as your fingers clung to his shirt with a desperation you couldn’t hide, his embrace grew firmer, enveloping you completely.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in broken fragments. “i’m so sorry, taehyun. i didn’t mean it... i didn’t mean any of it. i was stupid. i-i hurt you, and i’m so sorry.”

his chin rested against the top of your head as his hand gently cradled the back of it, his other arm steady around your waist. “shh,” he murmured, his voice a steady balm against the chaos inside you. “it’s okay. you’re okay. we’ll talk about it later, yeah? right now, let’s just get you home.”

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, raw and desperate. “please don’t leave me,” you whispered, your voice breaking with every syllable.

his grip on you tightened, and the steady beat of his heart against your ear was the only thing grounding you in that moment. “i’m not leaving,” he said firmly, the quiet conviction in his voice slicing through the storm in your chest. “i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

his words pulled a fresh wave of sobs from you, but this time, they were different—softer, like the beginning of a release from all the pain you’d been holding in. you buried your face deeper into his chest, his shirt dampening with your tears, as his hand traced soothing patterns against your back.

taehyun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. his gaze softened, as he gently wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks,

"hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like everything. "no more crying, hm? you don’t have to worry anymore.”

his words, simple yet so full of meaning, made something inside you shift. the storm in your chest began to quiet, and in that moment, you could feel the weight of the world lifting, if only a little.

he didn't rush, didn't push you to say anything, just held you, grounding you with the steady presence of his hands on your face. the warmth of his touch seeped through you, and you felt like you could breathe again, even if it was shaky and uncertain.

with a gentle smile, taehyun guided you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you into a tender embrace that felt like home—safe, warm, and unhurried.

"come on," taehyun said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "let's go home now. one step at a time, okay?"

you nodded, the weight of everything feeling a little lighter, a little more manageable now that he was here with you. taehyun helped you stand, his hand in yours, steady and sure as he guided you forward. with every soft step, you felt less adrift, the familiar warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

but as you walked outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin, your steps wavered. the alcohol still clouded your head, and your balance faltered. you tried to steady yourself, but your legs felt like jelly, and your head spun.

taehyun noticed instantly. his gaze softened with concern, and without missing a beat, he bent down, effortlessly lifting you onto his back in a piggyback. you barely had time to protest before you were safely cradled against him, your body fitting perfectly into his like it was meant to be.

"hey, hey, easy," he murmured, his voice gentle and full of reassurance as he adjusted his grip on you. you could feel the steady strength of his muscles beneath you, the warmth of his back against your chest, supporting you in every way, like he was carrying the weight of your whole world on his shoulders. it was natural, comforting.

he chuckled lightly, the sound of it like music to your ears, warm and comforting, easing some of the tension in your chest. "hold on tight, alright? i’ve got you," he said softly, a promise in those words, and it made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

you couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering tears, feeling his steady warmth against you. you rested your head against his back, the comfort of his presence washing over you. every step he took felt like an anchor, unyielding and stable, guiding you forward.

there was a long, still silence between you two, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words. taehyun's movements were steady, and the warmth of his body against yours was grounding, even though your mind was in a whirlwind. but still, you couldn't help the gnawing anxiety that kept bubbling up, the fear that it might all be slipping through your fingers.

and then, like a whisper breaking through the quiet, you muttered, "i'm sorry." the words tasted like regret on your tongue, and you could feel your chest tightening again. "i'm so sorry... for everything. for pushing you away when i didn't mean it. for saying all those things."

taehyun let out a soft, amused sigh, his tone warm and tender. "you don’t need to apologize so much, you know.” he reassured you gently. "i understand. i understand more than you know."

the comfort of his words helped, but the weight of your vulnerability lingered. the tears you’d tried to hide earlier began to build up again, and before you knew it, the words spilled out, trembling, “i was just so scared that... that i’d lost you.. that you didn’t like me anymore.. that i messed everything up...”

taehyun’s steps faltered for a moment, and you could feel the subtle shift in his energy, as if everything in him had softened in response to your confession. you didn’t mess anything up, alright?" he replies again, his voice warm, "and there’s no way i could ever stop liking you. that’s impossible, and you should know that by now."

but even with his reassurance, the fear still gnawed at you, the uncertainty that had been hanging over you for weeks. you couldn’t help it—your heart was aching, your soul yearning for something deeper, something more than what you’d had before.

"taehyun," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, "does that… does that mean you’ll still accept me? even after everything? i... i want to be yours. i want to be with you, really with you."

taehyun froze.

the words hit him harder than you expected. for a moment, you wondered if you’d said too much, too fast. his body tensed, and the silence between you stretched thick, heavy with the weight of your confession. you felt a sudden wave of panic rush over you, the fear that you’d pushed him too far this time, the fear that maybe he wasn’t ready for this. maybe it was too much, too soon. maybe—

but then, taehyun spoke.

his voice was soft, but there was a clear surprise in it, like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. "wait, really…?" he asked, his words laced with disbelief, as if your confession had taken him off guard in the sweetest way possible.

he didn’t let go of you, though. instead, he sighed softly, his breath shaky but filled with affection. "we’ll talk about it when you're sober, okay?" he said, though there was an undeniable tenderness in his tone.

you felt your heart skip a beat, but there was still an edge of insecurity in you that wouldn’t go away. you leaned closer, your voice a little more insistent, even though you knew you were being a little reckless, “but taehyun, i’m serious. i really mean it.”

there was a pause, the world seemingly holding its breath as he stopped walking entirely. for a long moment, the only sound was your breathing, and his fingers tightening slightly on yours, like he was trying to hold you in place without letting go. and then, to your surprise, taehyun chuckled softly, like a wave of warmth filling the space between you two.

"you really are, huh?" he said, his voice fond, teasing, and so full of affection. "alright, alright. but we’ll talk about this when you’re not so drunk, okay?"

you huffed playfully, leaning your forehead against his back as you clung to him a little tighter. "i really mean it, taehyun. i’m not just saying this because i’m drunk. i want you. like, really. i want to be with you."

taehyun’s laughter echoed again, gentle and affectionate. "i know you do," he said softly, his voice laced with something deeper now, something more certain. "and i want you, too. but for now, let’s get you home. we’ll figure it all out, okay? together."

the tenderness in his words, the way he held you so carefully, so patiently, made everything feel like it was finally falling into place. everything, all the uncertainty and fear, seemed to melt away with the simple truth that he was here, with you, and no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.

the weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long finally lifted, and you let out a shaky, relieved breath. taehyun’s voice was a steady anchor, his touch a reassurance that no matter the storm, no matter the doubts or mistakes, he would always be there. for you. always.

taglist! @pagelets @jettithink @killa-1009 @j-ji-jia <3 (lmk if you wanna be added !)

#taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun angst #taehyun x you #txt taehyun #txt #txt x reader #txt x you #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt angst #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop fluff

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scrollonso · 3 days ago

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Cinnamon — Strollonso (Prologue)

The café buzzed with the usual campus chatter, the smell of coffee and pastries filling the air. Lance sat at a round table near the window, sunlight casting a soft glow on his dark hair as he absentmindedly tapped his pen against his notebook. His iced coffee sat in front of him, already half-melted, condensation pooling on the table. His brows were furrowed, lips pursed in frustration as he stared at his notes, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere.

His friends — Jessica, Esteban, Charles, and Zhou — lounged around him in varying states of relaxation. Jessica was scrolling through her phone, occasionally making comments about her latest assignment. Esteban leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, while Charles and Zhou debated the ethics paper they had due at the end of the week. But Lance wasn’t listening to any of it.

Suddenly, he broke the relative calm.

“I swear, Dr. Alonso is crazy in love with me,” he blurted out, loud enough to turn a few heads from nearby tables.

The reaction was instant. Esteban choked on his drink, coughing and spluttering as Jessica raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Charles and Zhou exchanged wide-eyed glances before Zhou burst out laughing.

“What?” Esteban finally managed to wheeze, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Like the Beyoncé song?” Zhou asked, grinning.

Charles immediately smacked the back of Zhou’s head. “Only you would be thinking about Beyoncé when Lance is in the middle of a damn schizophrenic episode.”

Jessica stifled a giggle behind her hand as Charles’ laughter grew louder. Lance scowled, narrowing his eyes at his friends.

“I’m serious,” he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You don’t see the way he looks at me during lectures. The comments he makes… It’s not normal, I swear.”

Jessica leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Wait, wait. Are you serious? You’re talking about the same Dr. Alonso who made us write that twenty-fucking-seven-page essay on moral philosophy last week? That Dr. Alonso?”

“Yes! I’m telling you, he’s insane,” Lance insisted. “The way he stares at me during class — it’s like I’m the only person in the room. And then he called my analysis ‘profound’ the other day, and after that, he barely looked at anyone else for the rest of the lecture.”

Zhou raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. “Or maybe he just really liked your paper? Ever think of that?”

Charles grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the situation. “Or maybe you’ve been listening to too much Lana Del Rey.”

The others burst into laughter, and even Lance had to bite back a smile.

“Come on, Lance,” Zhou said, shaking his head. “You think our business ethics professor is crazy in love — great song, by the way — with you? Sounds like a stretch.”

Lance crossed his arms defensively, a stubborn pout on his face. “I’m not saying I WANT him to be into me,” he muttered. “I mean… okay, he’s hot. Obviously. His muscles are fucking insane, and don’t even get me started on his grey hairs—”

“Jesus Christ, Lance,” Esteban coughed, cutting him off. “Reel it in.”

Lance waved him off, trying to suppress the heat rising to his cheeks. “But there’s no way I’m imagining this. You didn’t see how flustered he got when I stayed after class to ask a question.”

Jessica smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you’re just his favorite student. I’m not sure the old man can even see well enough to think about that fat ass you’ve got.”

“Right,” Esteban chuckled. “And next, you’ll be telling us he watches Call Me By Your Name in his office while thinking about you.”

Lance tried to hide his grin, but it broke through anyway. “We are kind of Elio and Oliver coded,” he said, his tone teasing. “My dad was in one of his college classes, you know.”

“Oh my God,” Jessica groaned, laughing as she grabbed her bag. “Okay, we need to get to class before you spiral any further.”

They all stood, grabbing their things and making their way across campus toward the lecture hall.

As they entered the room, Lance’s eyes immediately sought out Dr. Alonso. He was standing at the front of the class, impeccably dressed as always, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that Lance definitely shouldn’t have been looking at. But seriously, how could he resist? Especially with that gorgeous tattoo from his wrist to the bend of his arm. His sharp eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on Lance.

Lance felt his heart skip a beat. Shit.

Jessica nudged him with her elbow, whispering, “Okay, I’m starting to see what you mean.”

Dr. Alonso cleared his throat, his voice steady and authoritative. “Good afternoon, class. Today, we’ll be discussing the complexities of moral relativism and its application in modern business practices.”

Lance sat at his usual spot, near the middle of the lecture hall — not too close to be suspicious, but not too far that he couldn’t see every detail of Dr. Alonso. His friends, sprawled around him, whispered quietly as they unpacked their laptops and notebooks, but Lance barely registered any of it.

His eyes were fixed on him.

Dr. Alonso stood at the front, hands resting lightly on the podium. His voice flowed smoothly through the room, low and rich, with a slight accent that made every word sound infinitely more interesting. Lance tried — he really tried — to take notes, but his pen hovered uselessly above his paper.

“Lance, you’re staring,” Jessica whispered without looking up from her screen.

“I’m not—” Lance started to protest, but he cut himself off when Dr. Alonso looked up again. His gaze locked on Lance’s for just a second too long before he continued pacing in front of the whiteboard.

Lance’s heart was racing now.

He slouched in his seat, running a hand through his hair. Okay, this is fine. Totally fine. No big deal. But it was a big deal, especially when Dr. Alonso started rolling up his sleeves further, revealing more of that tattoo that Lance had definitely been fantasizing about since the semester started.

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” Lance muttered under his breath.

Esteban leaned in. “You’ve already lost it. He’s not into you. He’s grading you.”

Jessica smirked. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind being graded by those hands.”

“Jessica!” Lance hissed, scandalized but laughing despite himself.

Dr. Alonso clapped his hands once, drawing the class’s attention back to him. “Moral relativism often forces us to examine our own biases. What we think is right or wrong isn’t always absolute. Context matters.”

As he spoke, he moved toward the side of the room, his gaze sweeping across the students. But once again, his eyes returned to Lance, who quickly averted his own.

Jessica snickered quietly. “He totally just looked at you.”

“I told you,” Lance whispered, feeling vindicated but also panicked. “It’s not in my head.”

Charles leaned across the aisle. “If he starts quoting Lana Del Rey lyrics, I’m walking out.”

Zhou stifled a laugh. “He’s gonna give Lance an A and write ‘young and in love’ in the margins.”

Lance shook his head, trying to focus on the lecture, but it was impossible. Every glance, every subtle shift in Dr. Alonso’s expression, felt like a secret message just for him.

Toward the end of class, Dr. Alonso leaned against the desk at the front, arms folded. His voice softened slightly. “Remember, what we perceive as ethical may change based on who we’re dealing with. Relationships, power dynamics… they all affect our judgment.”

Lance nearly choked on air.

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Okay, that sounded personal.”

“Am I hallucinating?” Lance whispered, sticking the tip of his tongue out and smiling as he held back a laugh. “Or is he flirting?”

Charles grinned. “If this turns into a fanfiction plot, I’m gonna scream.”

As the class wrapped up and students began packing their things, Lance stayed frozen in his seat. He was overthinking everything — every look, every word, every interaction.

“Let’s go,” Zhou nudged him.

But Lance hesitated, watching Dr. Alonso gather his papers at the front of the room. He was moving slower than usual, lingering as if waiting for something — or someone.

Jessica caught the look in Lance’s eyes and grinned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re about to do the whole ‘stay after class to ask a question’ thing.”

Lance flushed. “Jess, it’s a valid strategy.”

“It’s a thirsty strategy,” Esteban teased, slinging his bag over his shoulder before blowing a kiss to his friend. “Good luck, lover boy.”

As his friends filed out of the room, Lance stood slowly, gathering his courage. He approached the desk, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dr. Alonso glanced up, his sharp eyes softening as Lance approached. “Mr. Stroll. Do you have a question?”

Lance swallowed hard, his palms sweaty. “Yeah, um… I just wanted to clarify something about the reading.”

Dr. Alonso tilted his head, watching him closely. “Which part?”

Lance struggled to remember a single thing from the reading. His mind was blank. “Uh… the part about… power dynamics?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Dr. Alonso’s mouth. “Power dynamics. Of course.”

There was a beat of silence, the tension between them almost palpable.

Lance licked his lips nervously. “So… is context everything?”

Dr. Alonso’s gaze flickered to his mouth, just for a second, before meeting his eyes again. “In ethics? Yes. In life? Sometimes.” He paused, leaning in slightly. “It depends on what you’re hoping to achieve.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. Holy shit.

“Right,” Lance managed to say, his voice a little shaky. “Got it.”

Dr. Alonso’s smile deepened, his expression unreadable. “I’ll see you next class, Mr. Stroll.”

Lance nodded quickly, grabbing his things and practically sprinting out of the room. As soon as he was in the hallway, he pressed his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

His friends were waiting just outside, grinning like idiots.

“So,” Jessica said, folding her arms. “Did you get your context?”

Lance ran a hand over his face, groaning. “Shut up.”

Charles laughed. “You’re so fucked.”

“No,” Lance muttered, shaking his head. “I’m definitely not imagining it.”

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ashortdropandasuddenstop · 5 hours ago

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James was all loose and relaxed below his beloved blonde . Listening to his heart beat strong, and stable even after their passion session, like two wild animals. " Mm I'm delightful. Right enjoyed every moment of that. I 've nearly forgotten what you're capable of, it's been ages since you threw me around like that. "

But then it seemed his beloved noticed someone else in their intimate space.

James remained lazily sprawled on the floor, his body mostly covered by his discarded clothes. He propped his head up with one hand, a contented, cat-like look of satisfaction playing across his face as he watched Homelander handle the situation. The sheer dominance in Homelander’s tone, the way he coaxed their little intruder out of hiding, was a sight James relished. Leaving James to rumble out a purr. The glow of those warning red glowing eyes making him want him again.

Now that Homelander had pointed it out, James could hear the erratic pounding of the intruder’s heart, like a drumbeat in the silence. He inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of sweat and fear. A wicked glint danced in his emerald eyes as he slowly sat up, smoothing his shirt and stretching like a lazy cat who’d just woken from a nap.

There was a moment of hesitation before Todd finally emerged, his face pale, his posture rigid. He stood there trembling under Homelander’s intense scrutiny, his eyes darting to James briefly before quickly looking away.

“T-Todd,” the man stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. Todd’s face paled further, but he forced himself to speak, his voice shaking as he tried to explain. “I—I didn’t want to catch your attention, okay? That’s why I stayed! If I’d moved earlier, you would’ve noticed me, and—and I’d be dead already!” His eyes darted between the two of them, his fear palpable. “I… I didn’t want to see any of that! Eww!”

At that, James stretched languidly, his emerald eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Ah, ..the intern,” he purred, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Yes, you’re new here, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, examining Todd like a curious predator. “You stayed because you thought moving would be worse,” James murmured, his tone almost contemplative. “And yet here you are, still caught. How… unfortunate for you. What a pity.”

Todd’s face flushed with a mix of fear and defiance, and he suddenly blurted out, “ Y-yeah? W-well. You’re both sickos! And you.. you're just sad! Taking his abuse like that! ” He pointed at James.

James gave a dramatic shrug, as if conceding the point. “Oh, absolutely,” he said breezily, his neon green eyes locking onto Todd’s now. “But in my defense…” He flashed his fangs, sharp and glinting in the dim light. “I’m a hungry sicko.”

James’ brows lifted slightly at the insult, "And those are entirely too bold words from a man who's life is in our hands" and his lips curled into a faint smirk. He turned his gaze to Homelander, utterly unbothered by the outburst. “You know,” he said conversationally, his tone light and casual, “After such a workout, I could really use a snack. Leave him alive for me.”

Homelander’s instincts had taken over, lost in the pleasure his lover gave him while focused on claiming his mate in every way possible. He’d never felt so connected to another. It was more than just physical, it was mental. It was cellular. What they had was deeper than any love, any bond. It was something else entirely. As beautiful as it was all consuming, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Moments like this, the heated and intense primal need shared between them, it was when he felt the most connected to James. When James was at his most vulnerable and open, wanting to be consumed and dominated and encouraging it all the same. And for Homelander, it was intoxicating being given all that power and control so willingly. It only added to the pleasure he received from every thrust and hungry kiss, knowing that James was his and would forever be his alone.

All those moans and delicious noises he was rewarded with made him work all the harder, giving his lover everything. Just like he did during their tussle. There was no holding back, James now feeling the raw power of his fledgling inside and out. A power that only he could withstand. Homelander happily took that invitation of tilted head and parted lips, tongue slithering down throat, his form ironically a shield to hide and protect his lover while those thrusts were unforgiving, almost punishing. He wanted James to feel him after, wanted his scent all over his mate, his claim everywhere. Homelander was completely selfish and possessive, extremely territorial. And all those sensations were heightened the moment he became a hybrid. James’ hybrid.

Growls rumbled in that strong chest as he felt his costume being pulled and tugged and clawed at. Knowing how much he was wanted and desired did incredible things to his ego, his cock throbbing while buried inside his mate. Huffs of breaths and grunts mixed with their heated kisses, the sounds of their locked dance just pure sin. And yet Homelander embraced every single second of it, because this was something he never thought he’d have and both of them more than deserved this kind of pleasure. The kind that humans could only dream of.

And when he felt James tremble and heard those whimpers, he knew. He knew with the way his maker’s body clung to him like a lifeline. Yet the words were simply divine. The hybrid panted as lips trailed over jaw, hips bucking as he thrusts faster and harder, as his hand stroked in time. Tongue licked at cheek as he spoke low and deep only for James to hear. “Be a good boy and cum for me then. Cum for me so I can cum for you and give you what you want.” He purred against ear, holding James impossibly closer, tighter, both supportive and possessive while hips slammed against firm ass again and again, harder and deeper, each one deeper than the last. And that hand stroked firmly, worshiping his lover’s cock as his movements grew faster.

Homelander’s goal was absolutely clear: to give James as much pleasure as possible, wanting to break and fix him within the same orgasm. Lips parted and jaw opened as he bit down and sank his fangs into his mate’s neck, adding that rush of euphoria to the overwhelming pleasure. He didn’t drink, but simply kept his fangs there in a primal bite, giving his lover that added little boost. The more James trembled, the more Homelander worked and the tighter that hold became. Despite his dominance, when all was said and done he wanted to be there while James rode out his release, to allow him to experience it to the fullest without worry of falling to the floor. He would be there to witness every second, and then - and only then - would he let himself cum and claim his mate.

Of course, he’d been completely oblivious they had a watcher the whole time. The pair giving quite the show, a kind that would terrify some and disgust others. Perhaps even bring about jealousy. After all, it was far better and more intense than mere human sex. This was something else entirely. And while their watcher would want it to be over as quick as possible, that would only bring his death that much sooner. For the moment the two beasts were finished their dance, their senses would return and their watcher would be spotted within seconds. And Homelander would ensure there was no escape.

#v: vampire #norrilander #hom3land3r #pushing buttons

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stepmom · 2 years ago

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season 9 review

#there's so much i could say about this season tbh it unlocked something in my brain #it rearranged my brain chemistry and i'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing yet #first of all my man was a hot fucking MESS this season from the whole angel possession thing and the cain thing it was bad for him AND me #this season also got me to come around to cas finally after him being on the show for five seasons #and sam is starting not to bother me as much he's mellowing out and i'm enjoying that #all that being said this in my opinion is one of the weaker seasons of the ones i've seen so far #a lot like season 7 it felt like a plot that could've been fleshed out and resolved in maybe 10 to 15 episodes if that #and the writers needed to meet the 23 episode mark and they didn't really know how to stretch the plot to make that happen #and so they kind of wandered around plot wise for about 7ish episodes where in other seasons almost every filler ties back to the main plot #i could really feel the filler episodes this season the same way i felt them in s7 and although a lot more happened this season #it still could've been wrapped up a lot faster or they could've done more with the plot lines they had going #i did enjoy this season like i'm having fun watching the show it just felt a little weak in certain areas #AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE BACKDOOR PILOT EPISODE THAT WAS SOOOOOO FUCKING AWFUL #anyways my updated season ranking is 5 > 3 > 2 > 4 > 8 > 1 > 6 > 9 > 7 #walkie.talkie

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littlelamy · 2 months ago

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sleeping with rafe

Rafe couldn’t sleep without you. Whether it was his bed, your bed, or even the couch, he needed you beside him, wrapped up tight, grounding him in a way only you could. Tonight was no different. The moment you slipped under the covers, he pulled you into his arms, sighing deeply as he buried his face against your chest. After a long, exhausting day, all he wanted was to be tangled up with you.

Usually, he preferred to be the big spoon, wrapping you up in his embrace like a protective barrier against the world. But tonight, he craved your warmth more than ever. He nestled his way down, resting his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as he felt your soft skin under his cheek, the rhythm of your heartbeat lulling him. His hand drifted beneath your shirt, fingers gliding over your bare skin, sending tingles through you.

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against the delicate skin just above your heart. His lips traveled slowly across your chest, savoring each inch, each gentle curve. When he finally reached your nipple, he paused, eyes fluttering shut as he closed his lips around it, sucking softly, his tongue flicking teasingly against the sensitive skin. (rafe having an oral fixation > )

A shiver ran through you, and your breath hitched as you tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the heat pool low in your stomach. Rafe smiled against you, clearly enjoying your reactions as he took his time, lost in the warmth of you. Each slow pull of his mouth was both possessive and adoring, a perfect blend that made you feel cherished.

“God, you’re so soft… so perfect,” he whispered, pulling back for a moment to watch your face, relishing the flush on your cheeks. He pressed his cheek against your chest again, listening to your heartbeat, tracing gentle patterns across your waist with his fingers.

But as the moments stretched on, you felt that familiar pressure building in your bladder, and you knew you’d have to get up. You tried to shift out of his hold, but Rafe wasn’t having it. Even as you tried to ease your way out from beneath him, his grip tightened, instinctively, possessively and with a sleepy groan.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his arms looping around you like a vice.

“I… I have to get up,” you whispered, trying not to disturb him too much. He just groaned, shaking his head as he snuggled even closer, tightening his hold like he thought you might just disappear if he let go.

“Just a few more minutes,” he murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone, his face still buried against your chest. “Stay.”

You chuckled softly, heart warming at how attached he was, even if it meant you were stuck for the time being. But eventually, nature’s call grew too insistent, and you had to put your foot down.

“Rafe, I really have to go,” you said, a bit more firmly this time. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, pouting slightly, as if to say how could you leave me like this?

With a defeated sigh, he finally relented, loosening his grip just enough to let you slip out of bed. But as you padded to the bathroom, you felt his presence right behind you, half-awake yet determined to stay close. You glanced over your shoulder to find him trailing you, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled, his expression one of pure sleep-addled stubbornness.

He leaned against the doorframe as you entered the bathroom, his gaze unwavering even as you went about your business. You shot him a look, but he only grinned, sliding down to sit by the door, resting his head against the wall with a lazy smile, as if this was perfectly normal behavior.

When you finally returned to bed, he wasted no time in gathering you back into his arms, settling back into his preferred spot on your chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he sighed in satisfaction.

“You’re not allowed to leave me again,” he muttered, voice muffled against you.

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that promise, he relaxed completely, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep, held securely in the warmth of your embrace.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

#rafe obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx smut #rafe smut

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classyrbf · 2 months ago

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PART 2 OF PRISONER!GETO

prisoner!geto who can’t stop thinking about late at night, getting so worked up and horny, the most horny he’s been in a while. He’s pulling his pants down, closing his eyes while he pictures the way your scrubs clung to your body and showed off your ass. He thanks god he doesn’t have a bunkie or else he’d be in a real awkward position. He purposely gets into another fight a week later, the wound on his lip opening back up. He’s smiling to himself as he gets walked to the infirmary knowing he’ll see you there.

“Not you again,” you sigh.

“Told you I’d see you soon, doctor.” He sits on the small bed, watching as you put on gloves and examine his busted lip. He can tell you’re avoiding eye contact with him, trying your hardest to ignore his stares and slight touches. “Have you thought about my offer yet?” He asks.

You gulp, blinking as you rub the ointment over his wound. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play stupid, but you remember your last conversation so clearly. It makes you nervous. All he does is laugh.

“Come on. I’ll even beg.” He grabs your wrist, slowing pulling it down, a smug smirk on his handsome face. “You telling me you haven’t thought about it once since we last seen each other?” He whispers. He parts his legs, pulling you in between them. And god, you smell so good. So sweet. He could just eat you up right here.

You stand there, unable to form words because as much as you want to say no, you want to say yes. He makes your heart race and your pussy wet. What a sly bastard. With his stupid tattoos, muscles, hair and chiseled face. You hate how much effect he has on you.

“Listen,” he rubs a hand down your waist, “meet me in the supply closet by the showers during lunchtime if you’re really down.” He flashed a smile before standing to his feet and walking out the infirmary. “Bye, bye, doctor.”

Come lunchtime, you walked through the halls of the prison, mentally cursing at yourself. It’s just one time, one time. You bet he won’t even be there, that he’s just playing a stupid joke cause he’s bored with himself. And as you reach out to open the supply door, your heart beats against your ribcage, looking around to find the halls empty. You step in, seeing him leaning against the wall, the faint rays of light allowing you to make out some of his features. “Well, look who it is,” he chuckles. “Came here to help me out, doc?” He walks over to you, trapping you between him and the door.

“Shut up already and let’s get it over with.” You smash your lips on his, kissing him with such urgency and fervor. His large hands grab at your ass, squeezing and groping it as he pushes you against the wall, knocking a few things over. You both pull away, breathing heavily, lips swollen. “We gotta be quick,” you whisper, undoing his jumpsuit while he pulls down your pants.

“More eager than I am, huh?” He teases, earning an eye roll from you. “Come here.” He bends you over the small wooden table, snatching your panties off and getting a good feel of your ass. His dick jumps, pre cum already leaking from the swollen tip. He’s already so worked up, so ready to feel your wet and tight cunt. “Fuck,” he grunts, running his head over your sopping slit, nudging your clit slightly. “Already so fucking wet.”

He pushes his throbbing tip past your folds, a small gasp leaving your lips when you feel how thick he is. Inch by inch you feel the stretch, you mouth agape as you try and grow accustomed to his size. Geto’s entire body shivers, his fingers pressing into your skin so hard you’re sure he’d leave marks. “Ohhh shit,” he lets out a shaky breath. God, it’s been so fucking long since he’s had some good pussy and he can already tell he won’t last long. He finally bottoms out, feeling your walls clench around his length, sucking him in. “My god,” he laughs in your ear. “Lemme just enjoy this feeling—fuckkk—for a moment,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut.

He finally starts moving his hips, feeling his tip press against your cervix with each thrust. With each passing second, he gets faster, fucking your harder and rougher, your pussy has got him in a trance. “Pussy feels so fucking good,” he grips your hips, pulling you back towards him so you can meet his thrusts. One of his hands reach around your throat, gripping it just enough as he pulls you back against his broad chest. “Do you fuck all of your patients or am I just special?” He jokes.

“Mmmm…shut—ah—up!” You cry out, whimpering when he presses up against you, finding a new angle that makes your eyes roll back. “Just keep fucking me,”you say with a raspy breath.

“Doctors orders.” He can feel the way your pussy leaks, your juices dripping down his shaft and make his cock ache like never before. It almost hurts. He hold you tighter against him, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room. “You take it so well,” he breathes against your skin, pressing wet kisses to your neck. “So fucking well.” His thrusts grow sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. But in the distance, he hears the guards walking down the hall. “Shh, shh, shh.” His hand covers your mouth, his thrusts becoming slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of his cock, every vein, every pulse before hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

Your eyes squeeze shut, trying your hardest to keep quiet, the guard getting closer and closer. Their keys jingle with each step and their voices grow louder. “Atta girl. You feel how fucking deep I am…shiittt. Keep fucking squeezing me like that—yeah, yeah you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” His brows furrow as he bites down as his bottom lip in attempts to contain his moans, but his abs tense up and his entire body shakes before he’s filling you up, stuffing you with his sticky, hot cum. “No, no, don’t you dare move. Just like thattt, oh yes!” His eyes roll back, still cumming. His pushes his cum deeper inside of you, feeling it leak back out before he finally pulls out.

Geto truly wishes he could’ve had more time with you. His mouth drooling over the mere thought of how you taste, wanting to make you cum on his tongue, but for now he’ll have to settle for this. “You came inside me, asshole!” You pull your pants back up, turning to face him.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste.” He reaches out and stroke your cheek. “Right?”

“Whatever.” You swat his hand away. “Where are my underwear?” You look around the dimly lit room before realizing he was holding them.

“I’ll be keeping these for later,” he swung them in your face before stuffing them in his pocket.

“You’re such a pervert.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You have my cum running down your leg right now.” He places a finger under your chin, tilting it towards him as he leans down and kisses you slowly, his tongue sliding over yours before catching your bottom lip. “Mmm, thank you, doctor.” He smiles before kissing you once more.

You push him off of you, trying to process everything you just did right now. It was so wrong but it felt so right, so good, so intoxicating. “If it makes you feel any better, I get out in six months.”

“No. This was a one time thing.” You place a hand on his chest, shaking your head.

“Was it? Cause I don’t think it was. Not with the way your pussy was squeezing around me. It was almost like she was made for me.” He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes searches yours, a smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Yeah…it definitely isn’t the last time.”

#—☆classyrbf #jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x reader smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader smut #geto drabble #geto smut drabble #jjk smut drabble #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader smut

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dmitriene · 16 days ago

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all simon riley wants for christmas is you, tied up in a pretty bow, waiting for him all dolled up, your clothes are barely there, some skimpy thing that can be peeled, ripped away like a gift wrapping layer, to make it all easier, since you were waiting for this moment from the very start of the week, knowing that he should come home especially for holidays, and sure, there's a place for a present.

you asked him to stop at the grocery store to have time to prepare, and he agreed, the list was short and strained, a couple of drinks and snacks that you forgot for a perfect christmas dinner, everything so that you had time to hide next to the lush tree and turn off the light before simon arrived back, keys jiggling right outside the door, reverberating through the narrow hallway, as you still your breath.

simon was excited before, to finally return home, to celebrate the new year in a soothing, cozy atmosphere, with someone close, without loneliness, without disgust for this holiday, he did not even think about whether you prepared him a gift, because he did not give any hints, but opening the front door, and stretching out his hand with a bag of groceries towards the light switch, he lights up the living room, and you're right there.

with red, silky ribbon wrapped tight all around your curved body, digging in the supple skin, where it's ties in a neat bow right in front of you, your hands clasped behind, wrists looking at each other, hold together, and you can't really move, except fidgeting in place, a small, welcoming smile to your lips, as you watch the way simon's hands twitch, curling with whitening fingers, eyes fluttering from wide open to lidded heavily, and suddenly, the bags, and the dinner, are forgotten.

it's time to indulge in the gift you prepared to him, and simon wouldn't be able to stay away and wait for later, perhaps, he'd splay you out on the unfinished dining table for now, still not set for the dinner, except for the tablecloth, that will gladly soak all the slick that gushes out of your cunt, while he breaches a finger inside your soppy hole, walls pulsing, rippling at the intrusion, and you hiccup for more instantly, legs twitching, spread open by the ribbon.

your christmas would be all the night long, with your body sinking into the sagging mattress, cold, smooth skin work as a reprieve to your searing, scalding skin, warmed up by the spread warmth, burning up from between your limp thighs, as simon's hips snap forward, a steady roll, his cock long and thick enough to plunge against your spongy spot repeatedly, making you writhe and keen his name, a sweet, hiccuped melody.

simon holds you close, snuggled tight against his solid chest as his body juts forward with each thrust, broad hands sinking into the plushness of your body, tugging, holding tight and possessive, and you can only hide your blissed face in the juncture of his neck and stretched out shoulder, sobbing, breathing in the rough, rich smell of him, nails scrabbling across his back, wrists untied to let you touch him, while he enjoys his precious christmas gift, panting gritted praises.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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osaemu · 1 year ago

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GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

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invinciblerodent · 1 year ago

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I'm just... kinda fascinated by my own little guy.

I mean... he's good, fundamentally. A good person. He's helpful, and he's trying his best to prioritize putting the greatest amount of goodness possible out into the world. And he's devout, literally an ordained priest and a cleric of his faith.

But he's not good because he's devout, or because he's decided to subscribe to this specific religious dogma he just accepts as correct, no matter what, no questions asked- indeed, goodness is not even what his specific faith preaches.

But he's also not good despite that faith either, the two just... happen to coexist in him, as different facets of him. He isn't one for blind acceptance of things as the good and honest moral truth just because the Gods Said So (TM), and his morality is as mutable and subject to change as it is for all- but that affects nothing of his faith, because all that really gives him is the tenacity to act on the moral beliefs that exist independently from religious belief.

He's wracked with fear, and doubt, and insecurity, but he's doing it anyway. He's doing it because the one thing his faith demands is courage (to act, to not sit idly by, to not be afraid of death, to risk life and limb for the cause), and he's doing it that specific way because he believes that that's the right thing to do.

Which, on top of being a fighter, makes him... a bit of a philosopher, kinda, and it kind of explains his high WIS in actually a rather secular way, lol.

I'd fucking love meta about what's going on in this boy's pretty blue head. But, again, gotta write it my own dang self.

ngl, i'm getting a really big kick out of having a character that's a cleric to a neutral deity, especially one that's as prone to philosophizing as Arvid seems to be these days.

i like to imagine that he'll drop something like "godhood demands indifference. It requires, in their infinite grace and wisdom, a measure of apathy, as well as cruelty. In our worship, we forgive them for their folly- how is it so audacious for us to merely hope for the same?"

or "for the gods to judge one's actions, that may be prudent. But to judge the value of one's life as lesser than the weight of duty, however divinely imposed... that's no domain of any other than the self."

or "I cannot dole out absolution, and I'm not one to offer empty platitudes about divine forgiveness in its stead. I can only say that whatever the gods think of the kind -or indeed, the amount- of bravery you require from yourself, it means less than nothing", and I almost feel like he needs to glance at the ceiling briefly, just to confirm that he's not about to get holy-smitten.

holy-smote.

lightning'd in the face. you get it.

meanwhile Tempus, whose whole Deal on top of warfare is honorable combat, specifically courage, and not backing down in the face of adversity is chilling up there like

#squirrel plays bg3 #oc: arvid trygg #really really enjoying him in this final stretch #i kinda don't want it to end #partly because i'm scared of the gale glitch where asking him for a kiss ends the conversation #and i don't want my Big Final Moment of Loving “We Might Die” Goodbyes to be ruined by a bug #and partly because then his game is over #sadface

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msgexymunson · 9 months ago

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The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering.

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me.

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’.

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’.

Weird. This does not look like a printers.

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly.

Oh.

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors.

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it.

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look.

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’.

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare.

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.”

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?”

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare.

“Really? You?”

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance.

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?”

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over.

“You can let go now princess.”

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing.

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume.

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up.

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.”

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac.

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!”

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips.

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?”

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again.

“Are you immediate start?”

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-”

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.”

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.”

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you.

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it.

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this.

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations.

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.”

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.”

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time.

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad.

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place.

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that?

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand.

Oh I'm not falling for that again.

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed.

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.”

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.”

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here.

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms.

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him.

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.”

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away.

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.”

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing.

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie.

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie.

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?”

“Any appointments with Eddie?”

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?”

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back.

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm.

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?”

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.”

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement.

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!”

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back.

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!”

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind.

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand.

“Hey, how you getting on?”

“I'm good, just bored.”

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?”

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers.

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.”

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe.

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown.

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.”

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.”

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.”

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe.

Right, let's just play nice.

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing.

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light.

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.”

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you.

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?”

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo.

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing.

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.”

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step.

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people.

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots.

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were.

“Morning Eddie.”

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words.

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him.

“I'll be nice if you will.”

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee.

“I'm sorry Eddie.”

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Are you sorry…?”

“What for?”

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away.

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop.

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face.

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client.

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again.

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move.

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first.

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?”

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?”

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.”

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.”

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.”

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement.

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?”

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.”

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?”

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.”

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process.

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word.

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you.

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson.

“So, questions. Can I go first?”

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin.

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?”

“23.”

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.”

“How old are you?”

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.”

Act younger is more like it.

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?”

“Uh huh.”

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.”

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling.

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?”

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow.

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.”

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink.

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.”

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask.

“How did you start working here?”

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.”

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look.

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.”

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen.

“What band is that?”

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt.

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.”

“Oh, what do you play?”

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.”

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?”

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away.

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red.

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply.

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.”

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.

“Your turn princess.”

“I don't want to play anymore.”

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.”

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?”

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.”

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.”

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused.

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you.

“All done.”

“Huh?”

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.”

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip.

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.”

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.”

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second.

“Eddie what do I owe-”

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him.

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line.

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap.

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it Miss?”

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?”

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him.

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.”

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer.

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear.

“What you up to, princess?”

“Fuck!”

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look.

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass.

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!”

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal.

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.”

Pouting, you hit him on the arm.

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-”

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands.

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home.

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you.

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it.

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there.

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.”

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest.

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away.

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself.

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away.

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?”

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.”

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist.

“For your modesty. Come with me.”

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried.

“What's going-”

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?”

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods.

“Not a problem.”

“Thanks, man.”

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth.

“I'll be right back.”

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin.

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar.

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face.

“What the fuck are you doing here.”

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.”

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.”

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal.

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.”

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you.

“Eddie, we're still working I-”

“It's one beer. It's alright.”

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?”

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug.

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.”

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier.

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.”

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?”

“Come on, don't make me say it.”

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you.

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.”

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty.

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull.

“And I'm the Easter bunny.”

Giggling, you take another sip of beer.

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.”

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.”

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough.

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?”

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar.

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles.

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.”

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes.

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.”

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face.

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings.

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.”

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it.

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.”

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice.

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.”

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.”

“We can keep it professional.”

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord.

“Professional? You?”

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.”

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words.

“You're really confident.”

“You haven't seen what I can do.”

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.”

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.”

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need.

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?”

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?”

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind.

“Final rule. No kissing.”

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?”

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.”

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out.

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness.

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it.

Those theories are put to bed on day three.

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?”

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes.

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely.

“Maybe.”

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.”

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands.

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.”

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards.

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision.

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?”

“Hey princess.”

“Come on up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy.

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles.

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?”

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table.

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.”

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.”

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin.

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt.

“Yeah, you know who they are?”

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.”

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.”

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.”

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve.

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own.

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms.

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him.

“Come on then, sit down.”

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed.

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?”

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?”

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?”

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes.

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more.

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Porn, sweetheart.”

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.”

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.”

“Huh?”

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him.

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-”

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.”

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.”

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?”

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.”

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.”

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm.

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop.

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?”

“Alright.” You whisper.

“You comfortable?”

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.”

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine.

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed.

“Now just chill sweetheart.”

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck.

“Fuck, that's really nice.”

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed.

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word.

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe.

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!”

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment.

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.”

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck.

“I- I haven't decided yet.”

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core.

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him.

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?”

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words.

“N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.”

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.”

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast.

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point.

“Really?”

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back.

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand.

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more.

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass.

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you.

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.

“Holy hell!”

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach.

“Eddie, please.”

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit.

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest.

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?”

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs.

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel.

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more.

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?”

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple.

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess.

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison.

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control.

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-”

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him.

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent.

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair.

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-”

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up.

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light.

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...”

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.”

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief.

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again.

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.”

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.”

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.”

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting.

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist!eddie #teach me/show me Eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem reader

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