#some of these were worked on over a few days

[beardedjoel]

indebted

dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.

a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends 🖤 and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!

I’ll be the first person to admit now that what I’ve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my father’s stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely won’t get the chance to relish in it because I’m going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and I’ll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, it’s not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.

It’s utterly and completely my fault.

Sneaking out wasn’t meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.

It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All I’d ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA. 

He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once I’d persuaded enough people with ration cards, they’d shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smuggler’s route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed. 

I’d been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my father’s. I couldn’t quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but I’d be damned if I stopped trying.

However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, I’d thought. What a waste.

I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. “What’s some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?” a dark voice rattles into my ear.

I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when you’ve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?

“You smell good… real good…” The creep’s voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and I’m sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. He’s smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and he’s one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. I’m ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.

“You can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I don’t want any trouble,” I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isn’t how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way he’s now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks. 

A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasn’t so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. “We both know I don’t give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I don’t want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think you’d have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,” he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice. 

My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I can’t turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.

“Now, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but we’d hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldn’t we?” He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.

“O-okay, okay,” I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasn’t. “Just don’t hurt me… please…” I whimper.

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. “Afraid I can’t promise that.” 

I’ve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything he’s about to do next, finally accepting that there isn’t any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him. 

Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. He’s all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.

“Y’alright?” he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.

“Put that thing down,” he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. I’m likely the most miserable looking thing he’s seen in a while, I’m sure. “You’re harmless.”

“H-how do I know you’re not with him?” I blurt out.

My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. “That guy?” he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. “Think I’d be puttin’ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?”

My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that stranger’s mind had been conjuring up.

“Y-yeah, you have a point,” I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room. 

“Poor fucker died with a hard on, didn’t he?” The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. “Now, are you usually this stupid, comin’ into hunter territory, or what?” he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesn’t snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that he’s already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing he’d wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that he’s proving all the things I’d been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. I’m weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.

“Didn’t know, huh? So just clueless, then?” the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. “I’m Joel,” he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.

I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. I’m up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I don’t know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, “Thank you.”

Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. “We should move.”

I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. “Need you close by. An’ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldn’t.”

My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind. 

“I’ve got a safehouse not too far from here.”

“A safehouse?”

“It’s already gettin’ dark. There ain’t no way we’re making it back to the QZ today, princess,” he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.

He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that I’d unknowingly encroached on. “You’re a FEDRA princess if I’ve ever seen one,” he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. I’d seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than I’d given him credit for. 

I chew at my lip. “Fair enough,” I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joel’s hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where he’s going, a practiced route he’s taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.

“Are you a smuggler?” I ask pointedly. “I’ve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.”

Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. “Look who’s readin’ who now,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Ain’t gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. “I can keep a secret.” In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.

His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. “Just through here,” he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. It’s a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. It’s my favorite thing about all the exploration I’ve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own. 

The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joel’s hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that I’m thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.

“Up,” he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs. 

My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I can’t shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. It’s quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.

“Home sweet home,” he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. It’s a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if it’s left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Know it ain’t the palace you’re probably used to, but we’ll be safe an’ dry here,” he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, he’s clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My father’s house is spacious, sure, but it’s just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.

He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. I’m still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.

“Hungry?” he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. I’d lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldn’t seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. “Your funeral,” he says, chewing.

Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. “Well, you gonna sit your ass on down an’ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell you’re wanderin’ around like it’s a free for all out there?”

I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than I’d expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.

I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer. 

“I was… exploring,” I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?

His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. “Explorin’…” He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. “You’re tellin’ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today ‘cause she was explorin’? You really are stupid. ‘Course you are, look how young y’are. Look how fuckin’... sheltered.” Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. “Can’t even blame ya.”

I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. I’m sorry if I messed up whatever… smuggling stuff you had going on today, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me… stupid.” The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My father’s voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.

Joel sucks at his teeth. “Hit a nerve, I see,” he says passively. “Alright, I’m sorry kiddo. I just mean, you’re puttin’ yourself at risk doin’ what you’re doin’, and it ain’t a smart idea. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, relaxing a little. “I just needed to get away.”

“From your dear old daddy?” he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. “Ah, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Could’ve guessed that one.”

“I don’t have -”

“Sweetheart…” Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience. 

“Take a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ain’t the place to find what you’re lookin’ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off you’ll be.” 

Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. I’m tired of people dictating what I can and can’t do, what I’m capable of. “People do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,” I retort. “I’ve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Really? You’d be that man’s newest little cock sleeve if it weren’t for me savin’ your ass,” Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadn’t happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I - I know - I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. “Thank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.”

“Like I said, don’t thank me yet.” He steps over so that he’s in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. “Think I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didn’t think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?”

I’m like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. “Joel…” I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.

“I can’t say the thought ain’t crossin’ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big ol’ gigantic favor, for savin’ your backside.” He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now I’m certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it. 

“You know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookin’ for outside those walls. Maybe that’s what you needed, is it? Couldn’t find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.”

My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse? 

“Please -” I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. I’d think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.

“Time to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to ol’ daddy Joel,” he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. “Promise I’ll be much better than he would’ve been earlier. People say I’m… a generous lover.” His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.

He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand. 

The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time I’m ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, I’ve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my father’s friends, a name I can’t even remember now. The first penis I’m ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. It’s thicker than I’d imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. It’s magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what I’d expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out in the crudest of ways.

The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joel’s large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down. 

“Don’t cry now, honey, it’ll only make him harder.” He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. “Nice ‘n wide for this big boy, there we go,” he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it. 

He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. I’d have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joel’s old sweat, but it’s not completely bad, not what I’d have expected. It’s heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth. 

The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I can’t. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joel’s massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth. 

“Open up, relax your goddamn throat,” Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but I’m met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power. 

“Gonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderin’ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.” He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so. 

Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while I’m just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s right, you’re turnin’ into quite the good girl,” Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I can’t tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that it’s something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldn’t. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my body’s response to him hitting the back of my throat, I don’t know.

Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. “Knew you’d have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,” he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock. 

My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I don’t want to see the aftermath if it ends up that it’s one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this man’s dick? 

“Jesus fuck. Lord have fuckin’ mercy…” Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. “Swallowin’ him down, aren’t ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.” I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way he’d been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in. 

He’s relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest. 

As soon as the pressure of Joel’s body lifts off of me, I’m scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness I’ve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.

“Does it look like you’re done showin’ your gratitude yet?” he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.

“You do make a pretty cocksleeve, y’know. Suckin’ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.”

I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. “Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this…”

Joel scoffs. “If I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldn’t find you wet right now.” He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. “Don’t lie t’me after I’ve been so, so generous t’you today.”

I’m spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joel’s strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joel’s deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.

“Thought so,” he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. “Nothin’ to be upset about, we’re just havin’ a little fun, payin’ off your debt to dear ol’ Joel, okay?”

I shake my head. “I - I shouldn't be here… it shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them. 

Joel’s fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. I’m surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. “What shouldn’t be like this, hm? That you shouldn’t like my cock down your throat? It’s perfectly natural, doll,” he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.

“A-all of this,” I whimper, “Please, j-just let me go. I w-won’t say anything, I won’t do anything. I just…”

Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay that it feels good. It’s ‘sposed to. Good little sluts like you don’t know any better, don’t care what it is that’s gettin’ their panties wet. Desperate,” he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess that’s now drooling onto the cotton. “Just relax, let it happen…” I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan I’d been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.

He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joel’s hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe he’s seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.

“Please, I gave you what you want already,” I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. They’re my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, they’d belong to Joel.

Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. “Oh, you’re jus’not getting it, are you? You feel this?” he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. “This means you didn’t give me nearly half of what I want yet. He’s still achin’ for ya, princess.” 

I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way he’s using who I am to mock me. It’s a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasn’t a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.

“Please!” I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. “I-I’m a virgin,” I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like it’s his next meal, like he owns it. 

“Well ain’t it my lucky day. Shit, that’s why you were sputterin’ all over my damn cock, ain’t it?” he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that I’m even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, “Hey, hey, nothin’ to be ashamed for. In fact…” His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. “Makes me awful excited,” he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.

I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks I’m a cheap whore, and he loves it. I’m a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.

He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. “The hell were you savin’ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?” At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. “Answer me!” he barks out.

“I - I wasn’t! I don’t know!” I cry out, trembling.

“Well,” he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. “M’honored you’d let me be your first, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. I’m not letting him do anything. 

I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. I’m practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.

“Gonna make me do things the hard way, are you?” He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close.  His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. “Been too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. An’ ruinin’ this perfect, pure little cunt is jus’ the cherry on top of a perfect day f’me.” 

I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of what’s to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joel’s body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle he’d twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until I’m crying unrelenting, fat tears.

With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but I’m precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that I’ve never known before. 

I don’t have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. “Promise you’re gonna like this, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else’s cock but daddy Joel’s,” he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if I’m being split open for good, if it’s possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure he’s buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. “You were not kiddin’, sweetheart. Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever been in.”

I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know I’m part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things he’s saying, the way he’s taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. “Christ, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedin’ on daddy’s cock.”

The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. “Please,” I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. I’m like a ragdoll with the way he’s jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.

“You want more? You beggin’ already?” Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something. 

“Oh, that’s it. We got her now, don’t we?” he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. “You ever come before, sweetheart?” He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.

I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want him to take this from me, I don’t want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way he’s surely bruising my insides. 

“If you ain’t figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when I’m askin’ you a question if you know what’s good for ya,” he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.

“Use your words. Say ‘no, daddy’,”  he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.

“N-no… daddy…” I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.

He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a daaaamn shame. All pent up, y’are. But daddy will make it all better.” He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that I’m thankful to him for what he’s doing to me. I can’t answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that it’s probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.

I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didn’t even know were there. That’s why. I’m incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.

I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.

“Let me hear you, princess. Daddy doesn’t do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampin’ down on my cock, know you’re lovin’ how I use you up like you were meant for it.”

I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of that’s it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth. 

I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joel’s cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Joel’s grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures I’ve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling… the reason he’s doing what he is to me right now?  

It feels like it’s never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises I’m making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.

“Fuck, fuck - that’s it - f-fuck knew you’d love it. Come on my cock, baby, that’s right.” Joel’s string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way he’d assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not. 

“S-so fuckin’ tight, lettin’ me take your virginity like a good little whore,” he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like it’s saving his soul, like it’s the only thing he could ever care about. I’m on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure. 

“Gonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckin’ load drippin’ out of you again. I-I’m close, fuck -” Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me. 

It’s all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joel’s hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t.

Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way I’d noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.

When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans he’d been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual he’s acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didn’t just force himself on me. 

I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he can’t see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul. 

He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. “Eat. I ain’t havin’ you all weak and despondent for the next time.”

I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldn’t have said what I think he did. I - I’d paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didn’t even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.

“N-next time…?” I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

“Know you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, an’ sweetheart…” He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. “My stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That I’d get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for m’self, and throw it all away?” He’s creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever he’s thinking of doing next. “Now you don’t think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowin’ all that, do you?”

I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. “N-no. No…” I whisper. 

Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified. 

Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man I’d trusted once, who’d shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like I’m a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. “All I’ve got to do is decide just how long I’ll keep ya for.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

[vintagebuckybarnes]

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: 2k words, another Kofi member request about a Kappa!

warnings: breeding, anal

Nearly every afternoon during the summer, you enjoyed walking down to the local river to cool off. You’d swim for a bit and sunbathe before eating some snacks.

Before, you disliked going out on your own, but after finding a secluded spot you found out that spending time by yourself was relaxing. In nature and surrounded by the comforting sounds of the river, you could find peace.

Maybe it was the sudden heat wave, maybe it was the riverbed starting to dry up, but you noticed some of the frogs and smaller reptiles dying. It upset you, and you started leaving out small dishes full of water. You’d come home from the river to find hordes of small creatures enjoying the refreshments.

After putting out a fresh dish of water, you wrapped your towel around your body. You were soft, plump, with stretch marks on your thighs, belly, and breasts. Though it used to make you insecure, you rarely felt that way anymore, especially since you started wearing next to nothing at your secluded river spot.

On the way there, you heard a strange sound, like a mix of hiss and whine. It sent you on edge. Was something injured out here? Sometimes you spotted the occasional reptile or cat that needed help…

But there wasn’t a cat.

You pulled back the leaves of a large bush, peering inside. It took a moment for you to register what exactly you were looking at.

Some… creature was lying under the shade of the bush, breathing shallowly and making sounds of distress. It seemed strangely dried out, like a work caught on the sidewalk after a storm.

“H-hello?”

The creature went silent at the sound of your voice, beady eyes glancing up at you. Its skin was taut and slightly wrinkled, and its voice was raspy.

“Help… me…”

You jumped when it spoke, your eyes going wide as you took in its entire body. It was shaped like a human, but with green skin and a turtle shell covering its torso. For a moment you could only stare in shock, unable to do anything but open and close your mouth without speaking.

“Water…”

Despite not knowing what it was and if it was dangerous, you couldn’t in good conscious leave a helpless creature to suffer like that.

You ran to the river, taking out your water canteen and filling it with water. Once it was full, you ran back to the creature.

“Here, drink this…”

It made a strange sound, weakly pushing your hand away. Why was it resisting?

It was then you realized the creature wasn’t pushing you away, it was guiding you upwards towards its head.

There was a small dish there…

“Fill… it with water… and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

You didn’t hesitate, filling the small dish with the water. It was almost instant, the creature was on its feet and cheering, letting out happy chirps as its face nuzzled into yours.

“Thank you, thank you…”

You weren’t sure what to think of this… thing. After attempting to leave it in the wild and go home, you begrudgingly let it follow after you.

It was clingy, constantly rubbing its head against you and letting out this affectionate purr. You’d have to do some research once you got home…

As you got comfortable in your computer chair and opened your laptop, it peaked over the back, blinking as it watched you type in a few things.

Green skin, a turtle shell, and a shallow water dish on its head… every result told you it was a creature called the Kappa.

Though some of the creatures’ behaviors did concern you, the kappa before you seemed to be placated and obedient due to you saving it.

It began living with you… and you soon learned that it was… very fond of you.

Some days when you wore looser clothing, it would peek under your shirts or shorts, with an almost innocent curiosity. It started making you shy as you realized it was a he when his cock poked out, bobbing with need as he stared at your plump ass as you showered.

You were soft, with stretch marks on your breasts, belly, and thighs, and he seemed fascinated by that. He traced his webbed fingers along your stretch marks, letting out a content purr as you whined a bit.

He was a large guy, a soft belly and muscular to boot, easily able to pick you up when he wanted and could also easily pin you down. Thoughts like those flustered you… why were you thinking of that creature like this!?

Lately, it had been staying close to you at all times, letting out strange noises minutes before a male would pass by outside. Be it a human, dog, cat, or something else, he hated any male getting near you.

“Have to take care of you…” he murmured, his hand moving over your soft belly as he admired your plump body. “You saved me, I owe you that…”

You weren’t exactly sure that was the whole truth, though. He looked at you with needy eyes, his cock often erect and beading precum. His hands tended to wander along your body when he was near you, and you were starting to feel needy yourself.

Indulging him a bit wouldn’t hurt, would it?

It was nearing fall, meaning he stayed inside more often, soaking in your tub to stay moisturized and cuddling up with you if it got even slightly cold.

That meant you felt his erection rubbing against your fat thighs, sometimes slipping between them to use your thighs to get off. You didn’t really mind, even slightly rocking your hips to help him.

He adored your ass, often squeezing and playing with it, pulling apart your cheeks to look at your cute hole. Of course you shooed him away before he could push his fingers into you… but sometimes you wanted to give in.

This made you want him even more. He was always bringing home fish and fresh vegetables for you to eat, and it was too late to go back when you realized he was courting you.

The kappa saw you as his mate, his to protect and breed during the fall and winter so you’d produce his young by the upcoming spring.

His efforts began to increase the second snow began to fall. He’d go out to the river daily, coming back with too much fish for you to eat, but he insisted on filling you up for the winter.

You were already fat, a plump and curvy person, but now your belly was even softer, your stretch marks growing. This seemed to please him…

He let out a soft purr as he nuzzled his face against your neck, nibbling softly. Every day his affections grew bolder, and he was close to mating with you.

You could see the warning signs. His hands wondering, nest building, his scent lingering on your body long after he had pulled away…

It was early December when he came to you, clingy and upset. You had left the house for a few hours to do run some errands and returned to a very upset and jealous kappa.

“H-hey, it was just a little bump on the shoulder!”

But he wasn’t listening to your explanation. He could smell a man’s scent on you, and that was driving him crazy. You had run into someone accidentally, that was all, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The kappa was letting out an upset whine, pinning you down as he continued to nuzzle his face into you, his erection rubbing against your clothed cunt.

It was… exhilarating, feeling his webbed fingers pull your thighs apart. He took a sniff between your legs, tilting his head and letting out a contented purr when he was able to see your pussy.

You whimpered when he toyed with your clit, his tongue pushing past your plump pussy lips and into your hole. Your taste was something the kappa had never experienced before, and he could tell you were a fertile mate just by that alone.

“Pretty…”

The kappa was not a creature of many words, so to hear him compliment you in this way had you clenching around his tongue.

It didn’t take long for him to bring you to orgasm, you were so pent up from holding yourself back all these months that it was easy to make you cum.

You could tell he didn’t have much of an idea of what he was doing, it was all instincts, but you enjoyed every touch and lick.

Before long, his cock was throbbing too much to ignore and he climbed on top of you, once again nuzzling and butting his head against you affectionately as he pressed the tip of his cock against your dripping hole.

It was clear what he wanted. His hand was on your belly, feeling the soft fat and texture of your stretch marks as he pushed in.

His mind was filled with images of your belly being big and swollen, being a perfect little mate and parent to his young.

With those thoughts in mind, he pushed into you, his hand grabbing a handful of your ass as he fucked you. You felt his fingers wander, pushing into your asshole and pumping in and out as his cock stretched your pussy out.

It was all too much, you felt like you were going to burst!

He focused on your pussy at first, determined to successfully breed you. He blinked and stared down at his cock as it pushed in and out. Your pussy looked so pretty, stretching around him…

He kept going until he came inside of you, filling you up and making your belly bulge. It was an incredible sight, his eyes lighting up while his hand rubbed over your swollen belly.

But he was far from done with you. After filling you up, he turned you on your belly, lifting your hips up and pressing his cock into your asshole. It was a strange sensation. You had used toys on your pussy before, but had never tried with your ass…

He went crazy, his thrusts rough and fast. He couldn’t help it, seeing the way your fat rippled as he pounded into you was enough to drive a man mad.

Kappas loved ass, and he was no exception to this rule. He groaned as he melted into you, holding onto your hips and leaving imprints of his webbed fingers on your sensitive flesh.

The kappa was only satisfied once he had thoroughly claimed both your ass and pussy for himself, and finally curled up with you for a break. He was so happy, purring and snuggling with you.

Your body was sore and you felt exhausted, but you were strangely happy too. No human partner had ever treated you as something so beautiful and precious, but the kappa made sure to worship your body the entire time he mated with you.

With how swollen and heavy your belly was with cum, you had no doubt that if interbreeding with kappas was possible, you’d be heavily pregnant with his young in no time. He had filled you to the brim, and you were content to rest in his arms for the night.

As winter continued, you spent more time at home than usual, even requesting to work from home instead of going out every day. It was a lot more comfortable to be with your kappa lover all day.

After all, who would pick staying in a boring office and doing paperwork over going home and getting your brains fucked out by a handsome kappa?

Life sure as hell was different, but you couldn’t complain. You were happy, and no one would ever take you away from the kappa. He was your lover and protector for the rest of all time.

And he was more than happy to do it, too.

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 9: Folklore Creatures

Spin on "Little Red Riding Hood" anyone? What could be better than someone so obsessed with you, they simply want to eat you up?

Prompt: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity Warnings: Yandere, Violence (non-main character murder, Blood Mention, Implied Bullying of the reader (off-screen)), Topic of Jealousy, Posessiveness

"Love you, hun."

Pressing a gentle kiss to your head, your boyfriend got up, stretching his arms high over his head and popping his neck before he got to his feet with a sigh. "Where are you going? Do you really have to leave?" you mumbled, the disappointment unmistakably in your voice. It had been like this for weeks now, where you two spent a passionate night before he slipped out without a trace to find him all day.

"Mhm," he sighed, leaning down to you again to catch your lips once more. "You know how much it pains me, but I got to go before it's too late. Wouldn't want to awaken the monster in me, would you?"

He said it as if it was a challenge, and you giggled, thinking it was just another innuendo. "Wouldn't let me get out of bed, huh?"

"Oh, I'd gobble you up, darling."

Laughing, he stepped away, putting his shirt back on as he dipped into the bathroom of your small apartment real quick. The moment he disappeared from view, you couldn't help your expression from showing the disappointment and frustration you felt. It had been almost a month now, and you two never went out together in the daylight, never saw each other except when he picked you up for a night out in the club or came to watch a movie that was never finished.

It felt more like you were his friend-with-benefits—you didn't even know his last name.

As if you were the other one.

The thought made your blood boil. You weren't proud of it, but in a moment of jealous weakness, you had checked his phone, seeing countless messages where he told people how excited he was to hang out and make appointments with them while he never seemed to do the same for you. It didn't seem like he had another partner in his life, but how could you be sure when he played the role of the mysterious night visitor rather than your wholesome boyfriend?

Was he ashamed of you? Were you not good enough? Did he just keep you around for his entertainment? The questions plagued you as he never gave you a good answer. He wouldn't even entertain the discussions, only vowing that he loved you and his work was very important and took him all day.

So why was he meeting other people then?

There wasn't much time once he said his goodbyes, his kisses nothing short of loving and sweet. For a possible cheater, he was good at what he was doing. You only had a few seconds of self-doubt about what you were going to do before you were out of the door and hunting after him, long coat and sunglasses on in true stalker-fashion. It felt wrong, and you hated yourself for mistrusting him so much, but at the same time, you two were still practically strangers, knowing so little while still being so in love. A little craziness was inevitable, right?

However, as your boyfriend turned from the main street into the shady path leading to the central park of your town, you suddenly felt a sense of panic. What if you accidentally got involved with some shady fellow? What if this was a drug deal or worse? Why would someone need to go to a park in the middle of the night?

You had assumed he was leaving you alone every night to hook up with other people or go back to an unsuspecting partner, but as you gently brushed through the thicket, trying to stay out of the moonlight that would give away your presence, you suddenly weren't so sure anymore.

You could still see him as he walked further into the park. It should have been your sign to leave, get away while you could, and cut all contact... but you had already gotten this far. Following closely by hiding behind trees and the occasional park bench, you tracked him through the greenery. Once, he almost seemed to spot you, but you ducked into a bush just in time, regretting this move only when the thicket tore at the fabric of your coat, making unnecessary noise. Still, you managed to stay hidden, heart racing and always alert.

Eventually, your boyfriend sat on a park bench in front of a pond. Nothing much happened for the next few minutes, and you were about to call this mission off, seeing how relaxed he was. It was as if he simply enjoyed hanging out in the park at night like a semi-normal person would.

But footsteps crunching over the gravel made you cower lower, your eyes fixating on the person approaching. Your boyfriend lifted a hand in greeting, and the person sprinted forward, hood falling off her head, revealing a cruel sight.

Because you knew the woman your boyfriend was meeting.

Your bully.

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watched as she jumped into his arms, giggling as your boyfriend spun her around. The only reason for them to meet you could think of was that the two set you up, made you fall in love with him so they could laugh at you behind your back. It really broke your heart to watch them cuddle on the park bench, your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—ruffling her hair.

You didn't want to stay to see this.

It was a good thing you found out, but with tears filling your eyes, you knew you had to leave before you were discovered or hurt yourself more by watching them. This trainwreck wasn't one you should have been observing, and it hurt enough that you wanted to never come out of your home again.

"You know, [Name]?" your boyfriend suddenly asked, the sound of your name on his tongue so bittersweet.

"Who? Oh..." your bully replied, thinking for a moment. "What about them? They are a loser, not worth your time."

"Is that so? Because they told me about you, lots of things."

"You're ruining the mood. Isn't it enough that I agreed to meet you here? It's so creepy! Did you know how they found quite a few bodies lately around this park? We should go clubbing or to a bar, why are we even here talking about some loser?"

Your bully let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hair back over her shoulder before leaning close. "You know we never even kissed until now. Don't you think it's such a waste of those lovely lips to talk when we could make out instead?"

Letting out a dry laugh, he didn't seem flattered at all as she tried to avert the topic of you. Good, you thought, because you really weren't up to hearing about yourself from the bully and the traitor. Even so, you couldn't move. As if you were frozen to the spot.

"Good thing you mentioned that. I prefer not making my partner worried about whether I'm cheating or not."

"Partner?" your bully spat, scrunching up her nose, the ugliness of her expression matching her personality. "Don't tell me you're fucking with that. I thought you had better taste when you asked me out to dinner the last few times. Thought you'd appreciate beauty more--"

Her words were cut off as your boyfriend's hand wrapped around your throat. He brought her face closer to his, sounding more enraged than you had ever heard him before. "How dare you talk about them like that. They are perfect. Wonderful. Special. It's filth like you that needs to be taken out so my love can be happy."

The two rose from their seat, and you watched as your boyfriend seemingly effortlessly hoisted your bully into the air. Something felt off, and you couldn't look away as you watched the clothes on his body tearing apart, your bully struggling as his fingers stretched and wrapped around her neck completely. She let out mewls and gasps as she tried to kick him, tried to make him stop, but the horror was in both of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend transform.

Skin turned into fur, mouth into snout. His posture changed as his body grew taller, monstrous, into a beast. Part of you couldn't believe your own eyes as you watched him take on canine features as if you were in a movie, watching a werewolf transform, but by the way, your bully was struggling harder, unable to scream, you realized it was real, and she saw it too.

Horrified, you could only clasp your hands over your mouth, containing your shivers. Doggish years popped up from his head, twisting and turning towards your direction. You had to be quiet, undetected, or surely, you'd be the next prey of that monster. His snout opened, long, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight, and you heard the gurgled scream of your bully before the beast pounced, biting between her neck and shoulder.

Your bully was still kicking and trying to break loose as blood gushed from the bite, her sounds turning into gurgles before everything quieted out, and she stopped moving. Even though your eyes were so wide open, you couldn't believe them at all, couldn't understand what just happened, only listening to the sound of fluids gushing out and dripping to the floor, bones breaking beneath the claws and massive jaw, and eventually, her body simply slipping from his grip, seemingly meaningless.

"[Name], [Name], [Name]. Isn't it so impolite to eavesdrop on others?" the monster suddenly grumbled. Its massive head swung in your direction, eyes scanning from one side of the thicket to the other before finally settling on you despite the greenery. "I didn't want you to find out like this. We could have talked about it some other time—like on a picnic!"

Putting his feet into motion, you were still completely frozen as you watched the creature march towards you. If this was a bad dream, now would have been a good moment to wake up. You two held the eye contact, even as you watched the grotesque features slowly turn back into a human, first the head, then arms.

"Well, it is your business, too, I'll admit. I've been doing this all of you. Was I not a good boy, taking care of all these mean people for you?"

Until now, you had never taken much notice of the people you disliked disappearing. If anything, you were glad they weren't around anymore. But now that he was pointing it out, a cold shudder ran down your spine, guilt overcoming you.

"They were in the way of your happiness, and I need a good meal every now and then. We both got something out of it, you sweet, sweet thing—look at you cowering. Are you scared? Of the big, bad wolf? What if I'm a nice wolf, will you come to me then? Don't worry, no one's going to hurt you, I'll take care of all that try."

Even with the words so sweetly murmured, you didn't dare move and fall for his promises. He was a fucking werewolf or any other kind of monster! But werewolf made the most sense. It also explained so much more, for example, how he knew exactly where you were. It only made you wonder if he knew all along. Let himself be exposed to you. Wanting for you to see this.

See him.

Now back in his human form, he reached into the bush, parting it aside to reveal your cowering form. His grin widened as he watched you trembling in fear from him, this... other side of him probably enjoying a primal thrill at the prey he had caught.

"What... what are you? You had those big ears-"

"-to hear your thrilling pulse, darling."

"And your eyes were-"

"-so I could spot you and make sure you'd not hurt yourself, sweetheart."

"A-And your mouth was... you know."

At this, he simply grinned, and you gulped down any other word. "Gobble you up," he said earlier that night. It had not just been a sexy innuendo.

"Are you... going to kill me, too?" you asked woefully, feeling like your fate had already been sealed.

"You? Now, now, who'd do such a thing."

Clicking his tongue at you as if you had just insulted him, your boyfriend stepped through the gap in the bush, crossing over into your hideout, destroying every safety this thicket had provided with his presence. He leaned down, picking you up with what you now knew was unnatural strength and holding your bridal style as he carried you back towards the pond. The moonlight shined down on you two, the reflection on the water's surface blinding you. But it wasn't enough to make you forget about the body that laid just below you.

"I'm glad you could make it here, though. I wanted to enjoy the full moon with you for so long, you know? But you did interrupt my meal, how are you going to make up for it?" he asked, not a hint of seriousness in his voice. As if this was all a game rather than the brutal reality you had only just learned about.

"I--" you sputtered, unable to answer that. Your mind kept coming back to realize you were the next best meal to have and served as if on a silver platter as he carried you.

"Juuust joking," your boyfriend laughed. "How about we go home and order some late-night food? I'm so hungry!"

Ignoring the dead body on the floor, he merely stepped over it, chatting about whether he wanted burger or tacos as if he hadn't just revealed himself to be a fairytale monster and killed someone.

"Or, you know, we could make this fun. You could run, and I could catch you, have a nibble of those sweet cheeks; how about it?"

You felt the blood drain from your face, and his grin diminished as he watched you cower into yourself, his grip tightening around as you grew tense. "Okay, too early, got it."

"You're really not going to kill me?"

"Nope. Can't. You're my mate. You're what all werewolves crave—what I crave. Your happiness is all that satisfies me."

"Then... you'll let me go if I want to?"

His expression turned into a frown, and he shook his head. "There are rules," he said factually. "I'll explain them to you someday. But basically, they don't allow us to tell people about our existence. If I let you go, you might tell someone and--"

"I won't! I promise! I'll take your secret to the grave, please!" you pleaded, and your boyfriend grimaced, looking unhappy at your determination.

"And even more importantly-" he continued, raising his voice threatingly to make you behave. "-they teach us to never let our mates go, as there won't be another one. And living without is torture for a werewolf."

"Never?" you whined softly, and the smile returned to his face. Now he looked almost completely back to normal, like the sweet boyfriend you fell in love with. But you couldn't ignore the wolf in a sheep's skin—not with the blood of your bully still clinging to his chest.

"Never," he assured you firmly, and you knew instinctively that he meant it.

[starryjake]

book lover | s.j

in which you’re trying to read your book and jake gets needy.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: rough jake, blowjobs, nipple play, choking, unprotected sex, cumming inside, masturbating, finger sucking, fingering (lmk if i missed anything).

you were so effortlessly pretty. literally effortless. you were laying there on the couch, your face glued to the book you’d been reading for the past couple of days. jake thought you looked good. really good.

the fireplace was on, an orange glow reflecting on your smooth face, making you look somehow even more beautiful.

jake was sat on the other end of the couch, your socked feet curled in his lap. he side eyed you, hoping you’d pay him some attention, but you were too entranced in the world of your book.

he brought his hands to your feet and began giving them a massage, thinking maybe that would get your attention, but it was like you didn’t even notice.

jake let out a loud, dramatic, sigh, finally capturing your attention.

“what is it?” you asked, tearing your gaze from the book.

“nothing, why?” he responded.

“oh,” you shrugged. “thought you needed something.”

he frowned as you went back to your book. that didn’t work out how he wanted it to.

he waited a few more minutes, occasionally looking over at you, but you were still so engrossed in something else that wasn’t him and it was starting to piss him off.

there was one way he knew for certain would get your attention.

he softly pushed your feet off his lap, which you unsurprisingly didn’t even notice. he kept his eye on you as he brought his hand to his bulge, palming himself until he built up an erection. just by staring at you, he was getting harder by the second.

eventually, just rubbing himself over his pants wasn’t enough anymore, so he slid his hand underneath his waistband and his boxers, grabbing his bare cock with no interference.

he sighed in relief at the contact, watching you to see if you’d notice, but you didn’t. he jut his bottom lip out, pouting at how it felt like you were ignoring him when you really just didn’t realize what he was doing.

he pulled his dick out of his pants and wrapped his hand around it tightly, dragging it up and down his length. a little bead of precum gathered at his slit which he let trickle down the side of his cock, the sensation making him shiver. he then smeared it around his tip, moaning out at the feeling.

“what the hell are you doing?” you asked, finally noticing him.

“jerking off,” he said through a deep breath, starting to feel really good now that he’d been caught.

“yeah, i can see that,” you replied, setting your book to the side.

for a moment, you decided to just watch. it didn’t take long for yourself to start feeling worked up, seeing your boyfriend touch himself and be so into it.

“feel good?” you asked.

“feels so fucking good,” he answered, looking at you through dark hooded eyes. “wish it was you.”

“i bet,” you answered.

he frowned, rubbing his thumb over his slit and twitching. he let a wad of saliva trickle out of his mouth and land on his tip, using it to help his hand glide easier.

you bit your lip, watching your boyfriend’s hand speed up around his cock, already working to make himself cum.

you watched for a few minutes before deciding to involve yourself. you sat up on your knees and crawled over to him. he immediately grabbed you by the hair on the back of your head and pushed your mouth onto his cock.

jake threw his head back against the couch as soon as he felt your warm throat wrapped around him. he kept his grip on your hair, giving you no choice but to suck him off.

you gagged around his length, saliva spilling out of your mouth and down the sides of his cock, which he loved. he loved when you were messy, which it was hard not to be when he was gagging you like that.

“fuck yeah,” he groaned, lifting his head to watch you suck it.

he could feel his tip hit the back of your throat and he jutted his hips up just a bit, just to test your limits. you clenched your hands into fists, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“good girl,” he cooed, speaking to you like you were a dog.

he even patted your head, loosening his grip ever so slightly.

he gave you a second to come up for air which you took full advantage of, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

jake grabbed your chin, smiling at your fucked out face.

“c’mere,” he urged.

you sat on his bare lap and he immediately pressed his lips to yours, licking up your saliva and his precum that was smeared all over your lips. you panted against his mouth, your breathing rate still not back to normal.

you’d wondered what had gotten into jake. he could be rough at times but it was rare. if anything, he usually was game to let you be the one running the show, but you could tell that was not how it was going to go tonight.

his hands were suddenly on your waist and he was pushing your sweater up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. you’d gone braless today and jake thanked whatever god was out there that you did, needing his mouth on your pretty tits immediately.

he moaned as he took a hard nipple into his mouth, suctioning his lips around and sucking on it like he truly hoped something would come out of it.

with his other hand, he gripped his cock and started stroking it again. there was even more precum now, enough that it could’ve passed as a small load, but it wasn’t. he was just incredibly aroused and it showed.

he gathered the precum on his fingers and brought them up to your lips. he didn’t even need to ask you to open your mouth, you just did so, and he knew then that he trained you well.

you wrapped your lips around his long fingers, sucking on them and swallowing the salty taste of his precum.

he switched to your other nipple, leaving the one he had been sucking on wet to the cool air. it didn’t go unnoticed to him the way you were trying to subtly hump his leg, his fingers still pressed down on your tongue. he allowed it as it only fueled him to jerk his cock off harder.

he pulled back from your chest after another moment and grabbed your hips, laying you down on the couch. he tugged on your sweatpants and pulled them off your legs, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

he wanted to taste you so bad. he always did, but he just couldn’t wait tonight. he needed to shove his cock inside you as deep as he could and just fuck you until his dick stopped working.

so, he pulled your panties down leaving you completely bare on the couch. he cock was fully drooling precum, a string dripping down onto your stomach.

he was quick to kick his sweatpants off his legs and pulled his shirt over his shoulders. he needed to feel his bare skin against your bare skin, which was exactly what he did as he pressed himself against you, kissing you again.

you moaned into the kiss, feeling his cock slide between your soaked folds. you slid your fingers through his dark hair, wrapping your legs around his waist to get into position.

he could tell you were eager, maybe just as eager as he was. he pulled back and lined his cock up with your drooling hole, pushing in slowly to feel himself break that barrier, to stretch out your tight, velvety walls.

“fuuuuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back at the overwhelming sensation.

you whimpered, placing your hands on top of his over your waist.

you were absolutely covering his cock in your wetness, adding another layer to it that was just purely your arousal.

he pushed himself all the way inside your pussy until your pelvises were aligned. unmoving, he stayed there, relishing the feeling of his cock resting in you.

“move,” you begged, needing to feel him do something other than just sitting there inside of you.

“hang on,” he mumbled.

he couldn’t move. he would cum if he moved. he clenched his eyes shut, momentarily trying to take himself out of this situation in his mind so he didn’t bust on the first thrust.

“please,” you begged, raising your hips up to try and get some movement.

that one movement alone did it for him, just like he knew it would.

he choked on a moan, eyes still closed as he started to cum inside you. he was so embarrassed, he didn’t even want to look. he wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening. he’d fucked you a million times before and this had never happened. there was something about tonight, though, something that had taken over him.

you were speechless as you felt his hot ropes of cum stain your insides. nothing had even happened. you didn’t understand why he was already cumming.

you stayed silent until he was finished, a sheen of sweat covering his body from the pure intensity of his first orgasm.

his eyes opened then and they were darker than before as he looked down at you.

“i said hang on,” he said sternly, angrily even, his fingertips digging into the skin on your waist.

“i didn’t know you were about to cum,” you defended.

“it doesn’t matter,” he retorted, a vein slightly bulging in his forehead. “listen if i fucking tell you something.”

you swallowed, suddenly getting the chills at his change in demeanor.

“i’m s—”

he pulled out of you so quickly and suddenly that it hurt, making you shut up your own apology. his cum came spilling out of you like a broken dam and dripped down onto the couch.

you watched him with anticipation, not knowing what was going to happen next but just hoping he wouldn’t leave you there without making you cum first.

“get on your stomach,” he demanded.

you nodded, your nervousness evident. you quickly laid down on your stomach, still nervous but excited for what he would do now.

he grabbed your waist and pulled your hips up. his cum still slowly trickled out of you, leaking down your sticky thighs.

you suddenly felt his finger pry at your entrance before sliding in and feeling your warm pussy, full of his early release.

“jake,” you whined, wishing he would just put his dick back in you and fuck you like normal.

“shh,” he said. “let me have my fun with you. i think it’s the least you could do, hm?”

you turned your head to the side, cheek pressed against the couch again.

“are you gonna fuck me?” you asked.

“i tried,” he said, sliding another finger into your pussy. “but you just couldn’t listen.”

“please,” you cried out, your fingers clenched into fists at the side of your head. “i didn’t know. please, i just need you to fuck me.”

jake cooed at your eagerness, at how you were begging for him now when you were never really one to beg. he did want to fuck you again, and he would, but he needed you to keep begging for it.

“i bet,” he said, purposely repeating your own words from earlier, which were now clearly biting you in the ass.

“please,” you groaned, pushing your hips back on his fingers. “i can’t wait. i just wanna cum.”

jake was a weak man when it came to you and he knew that. he wanted to make you wait just a little longer, but how could he when you were begging and needing him so sweetly?

he jerked himself off for a second again before realigning his tip with your entrance. he slid himself in again, twitching when he felt your walls pulsating around him.

“fuck!” you cried out. “thank you thank you thank you.”

“can’t say no to you,” he huffed, starting to thrust right away. “you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? just have to give my baby what she wants.”

“mmm yes!” you rasped, drooling onto the couch. “feels so good, jake, oh my god.”

“i know,” he said, holding onto your hips as he fucked you nice and hard, watching your ass bounce back on his torso. “you’re so warm, baby.”

“‘m close,” you warned.

he wanted to ask, “already?” but decided not to given the fact he’d just cum from merely being inside of you less than five minutes ago.

he rubbed the skin on your hips, silently urging you to let go, not just for yourself but for him too. nothing felt better than your walls clenching around him when you came and how wet and slippery your pussy became.

“jake!” you yelled, looking back at him with teary eyes and bright red cheeks. “i’m cumming!”

he moaned as he felt it and watched you go through it. your eyes rolled back into your head, your toes curling. you collapsed back down onto the couch and he continued fucking you through it, his stomach clenching from the sound of your wet pussy getting pounded by his cock.

“good girl,” he cooed, rubbing your back as you attempted to calm down, which was hard since he was still fucking you at the same fast and hard pace.

he grabbed your hips again and pulled you up so you were on your knees with your back pressed against his chest. you were so tired and limp, he had to keep his arm around his stomach to keep you upright.

“fuck, my little doll,” he grunted, speeding his thrusts up even more, your entire body jolting. “my little fuck doll, yeah?”

you just moaned, dazed, lolling your head back against his shoulder. with your neck exposed the way it was, jake couldn’t resist.

he immediately wrapped his around your neck and squeezed, feeling his cock twitch uncontrollably. you let out a tiny sound, a gasp for air mixed with a tiny squeak and jake nearly came just from the sound alone. you were so innocent and perfect, letting him just fuck you like he needed without argument.

he squeezed your neck until your neck turned red and his hand left an imprint. he had to force himself to let go. but he wasn’t done.

he let you catch your breath for a second before wrapping his entire arm around your neck like putting you in a chokehold, literally giving you no room to move and forced to take it.

but jake knew you liked it because you let out a yelp and were suddenly releasing all over his cock again without warning.

he released the chokehold after a few more seconds and kissed your neck, caressing it with his thumb.

“good girl,” he praised. “i’m close.”

“please,” you whispered, beyond exhausted and lightheaded at that point. “inside.”

“want my cum inside of you again?” he asked, taunting you almost. you just nodded, looking up at him with shiny eyes. “okay, baby. i’ll give my good girl what she wants.”

he fucked his cock into you a few more times before he was releasing his second load deep inside your cunt, marking your walls up all over again.

he was dripping sweat, his fingers pressed against your clit as he came, his orgasm lasting even longer than the first. he was practically shaking by the end of it.

once you were both done, he helped lay you down on the couch and covered you up with one of the throw blankets.

he immediately got you a glass of water, worry overcoming him because he’d never been so rough with you before and you hadn’t uttered a word in minutes.

“drink,” he urged, handing you the glass of cool water. you took a few sips before handing the glass back to him. “are you okay?”

“mhm,” you said tiredly, offering a sly smile. “that was really hot.”

“oh,” jake let out a sigh of relief. “you scared me, baby. got so quiet, i thought i was too rough.”

“well it was kinda hard to speak while you were choking me,” you joked. “but I’m exhausted now, baby. can we nap?”

“yeah, sweetheart,” he said, joining you in laying down.

you rested your head on his sweaty chest, immediately falling asleep as soon as he began running his fingers through your messy hair.

jake laid awake for a few minutes, replaying the scene that just occurred in his head until he too eventually fell asleep.

-

a/n. idk why i decided to make him put reader in a chokehold i think i blacked out.

thanks for reading!! <3

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe was so hot this season. Need more of him plsss Can you do Topper sister reader getting caught touching herself and then they start sexting and she ask him to fuck her? reader is 18, of course!

I have a few more Rafe requests in the work. Please keep them coming, I miss this man (and JJ!!)

Warnings: 18+, smut, brother’s best friend, sexting, daddy kink, protected p + v, 

—

Rafe never bought your sweet and innocent bullshit you put up in front of people. He knew that under your appearance, under the preppy clothes, the big doe eyes and the angelic laugh, you were anything but innocent. 

Him and Topper have been friends for over ten years, and have been hanging out almost everyday. He watched you grow two feet taller, and when your little girl body turned into a woman’s. He saw you. He studied you. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon the boys came back from the golf course that Rafe had his confirmation. Topper told him to use your bathroom since the main one was being reconstructed, thinking you weren’t home, but when Rafe walked into your room, he saw you naked on your bed, humping your pillow. It wasn’t just any pillow. It was the one with the face on it — a pillow pet, you had called it. The nose of the turtle was rubbing perfectly on your clit, drawing out the softest whimpers and mewls. 

He watched for a few seconds in silence as you rocked down on the pillow back and forth, a smirk curling on his lips. 

‘’Having fun here?’’ he said in a teasing tone, snapping you out of your bubble.

‘’What the fu—’’ You turned around, startled, and saw Rafe standing in your doorway. ‘’Rafe! What are you doing in my room?’’ 

‘’Just needed the bathroom,’’ he explained. His eyes trailed down your body, seeing it for the first time. ‘’Didn’t know you were busy.’’

You threw a plushie at him, hitting him square in the chest. ‘’Get out!’’ 

Rafe laughed and obeyed, closing the door behind him. ‘’If you want to do some naughty things and not get caught, you should lock the door.’’ 

୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

Since that afternoon, Rafe couldn't help but shift his eyes to you whenever you were around. Now that he knew what was underneath the skirts and girls tops, his imagination had free rein. He was careful, though, making sure your brother never caught on —Topper would kill him if he knew the things he was thinking about you. He made it crystal clear to Rafe and Kelce: you were off-limits.

You didn’t care about your brother’s rule though. Rafe was your brother’s hot best friend. Every girl in Kildare was begging to get in his pants — and now you got it too. But it didn’t cross your mind until the other day when he walked in your room. Maybe it was because you’d always known him, seen him as a kind of second big brother. But now? That image had changed, and there was no going back.

One evening, Rafe was hanging in his bedroom, ready to go out with nowhere to go since Kelce had bailed on him for a Tinder hook up. The asshole. Rafe was annoyed, but there was nothing he could say to make Kelce choose beers over sex. To be fair, He would choose sex too.  

He had texted Topper, but he was at Ruthie’s, which meant Rafe was completely on his own tonight. He’ll probably smoke a bit of weed and watch some porn later, a cozy evening. But Wheezie was still home and Rafe promised her he had quit smoking. 

As he waited, his phone buzzed on his bed where he left it. Rafe picked it up, confused when he had received a picture from an unknown number. It was a faceless girl in a delicate sheer pink cami, and her tits looked fantastic. He frowned as he typed ‘who’s that?’. Must be a mistake.

A reply came five seconds later.

You: You don’t recognize my tits Rafey?

Instantly, he knew it was you. It was a nickname you gave him when you were younger. No one but you called him that — Rafey. 

Rafe: How did you get my number?

You: Stole it from Top’s phone 🤭

Rafe: Naughty girl 

You: Did you like it?

Rafe: Like what?

You: My pic! 📸

You: [picture attached]

It wasn’t the same picture. Not exactly. This time, your sheer cami was pulled up and your tits were completely out. 

Rafe cursed and ran a hand through his hair. How did that happen? It was clear that you sent this picture with the intention of initiating something with him. But why was this happening now? What made you go and send him a picture of your tits tonight? You never flirted with him before, or showed signals that you were interested. 

He reached down to rub himself over his pants as he typed a reply. 

Rafe: Fuck those are nice 🥵 

You: They’re cold…🧊❄️ Can you come warm them up? 

Rafe had to do a double take when he read your message to make sure he hadn’t misread it. Can you come warm them up? It was right there on his phone screen. He looked down at his pants, tented and tight, and groaned. He wasn't sure if he should go through with this or not. Did he want to go to you? Absolutely. Should he break his best friend’s trust for a good fuck? 

Rafe: As long as you warm me up too. 

He sent a picture of his tented pants, which he was incredibly hard under.

You: Waiting for you 💕 

 ୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

When he arrived, Rafe turned off the truck’s headlights and made sure the neighbors didn't see him. The lady that lived in front of the Thornton house was a country club member and loved to spread gossip around. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at the Thornton’s, but Topper’s truck was not in the driveway. 

The last thing he needed was her spying through her curtains. 

You were sitting on your bed in a pair of panties your mom didn’t know you owned and your pink cami, waiting for Rafe to show up. Tannyhill was seven minutes away, he shouldn’t be long.

‘’Hi, Rafey,’’ you greeted with the most innocent smile and doe eyes.

Rafe shook his head, tsking. ‘’Uh, uh. Don’t play that game with me.’’ 

Your lips curled into a smile. ''Took you long.''

He rolled his eyes. ‘’What’s the hurry? Are your parents coming home soon?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’I’m just so fucking horny.’’ 

Rafe laughed out loud. He never heard you speak like that, so raunchy and bold. 

You stood on your knees and lifted your cami off, leaving you topless. Your nipples were peaked and pretty, as if greeting Rafe. ''Are you gonna come and warm them up?''  

No need to ask twice. Rafe pulled you onto his lap and put his large hands on you, groping and playing with your tits. His calloused fingers kneaded into the soft flesh expertly. He found your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, causing you to whimper at the sensation. 

‘’You like when I give your tits attention, uh?’’ he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, shifting so your needy cunt would come in contact with Rafe’s rock hard erection. He noticed what you were trying to do, and a smirk played on his lips before he attached them to your neck. 

‘’Can't get enough?’’ Rafe asked between kisses. ‘’Didn’t know you were such a needy little thing.’’ His hips rocked up into yours, grinding his thick cock against your clothed cunt. 

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you whimper and cling to his shoulders. ‘’Rafe.’’ 

‘’I'm going to fuck this sweet cunt until you can't walk straight,’’ he promised darkly, nipping over the sensitive spot where your pulse raced, making you gasp and arch into him. 

You’ve thought a lot about Rafe touching you these past days. You knew from overheard conversations with the boys — and talks around the island — and that he was experienced, that he knew how to please a girl. He had a reputation. And goddamn he didn’t disappoint. 

One of his hands left your breasts to slide down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to rub over your folds...which were slick with arousal. Rafe groaned. ''Fuck, you're already soaked.'' He rubbed slow circles over your clit, feeling how swollen it had gotten. ''Did you grind on that turtle of yours before I arrived? Turtles are an endangered species or some shit, can’t torture them like that.’’ 

A laugh bubbled out. ‘’Rafe…’’ 

‘’What?’’ 

‘’Don’t want you to make me laugh. Want you to fuck me,’’ you said, looking right into his blue eyes. 

Rafe raised an eyebrow, holding your gaze. ‘’You want my cock, babygirl? Want me to fill this pussy up real good?’’ His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside. 

Your walls clenched around him. 

‘’Rafe…’’ you whined again. 

‘’Okay, okay.’’ He kissed your jawline sweetly, then removed his hand from your panties and swiftly stripped them down your legs. ‘’Might keep these as a keepsake,’’ he joked, holding your lacy thong.  

If you hadn’t been so horny, you would have argued with him to get it back — you didn’t have many and you really liked this pair  —, but all you could think about was the beast in Rafe’s pants pounding into you and making you scream. He could get you on your fours like a dog or fold you like a little pretzel if he wished. 

You just needed him.

You reached for his belt and worked to unbuckle it, but Rafe pushed you back and told you to bend over your vanity. His request surprised you, but you complied. The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver. You never tried that position before. 

You could hear the sound of Rafe undressing — the rustling of fabric, the undoing of a zipper and the clinking of his belt buckle on the floor. You wanted to look at him — at his cock, more precisely —, but he was already behind you, a hand on your back, making you lean down lower, and nudged your legs further apart. 

The air leaked out of your lungs in a squeaky rush when he pressed the tip, gently tearing through your tight walls. The sensation had you gripping the edge of your vanity. 

‘’You okay, baby?’’ he asked with genuine concern in his voice. 

You nodded. ‘’Y-yeah.’’ 

Once the first uncomfortable thrusts passed, you forgot about the initial pain and felt the pleasure flow through your body. Rafe gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as he picked up pace. The vanity creaked, a rhythmic beat that matched your increasingly frantic movements.

Your tightness enveloped him like a vice as he pounded into you mercilessly. Christ, you felt incredible. Each deep stroke dragged a gasp from your lips, and he reveled in the sounds of pleasure you made.

''You feel so fucking good, baby,'' he grunted, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. ''Is this what you wanted when you stole my number through Topper's phone? For me to fuck your tight cunt?'' 

Tears were pricking your eyes, your mouth hanging open while wanton sounds kept spilling out. ''Yes, Daddy!'' you uttered out.

The word slipped without noticing, sending a jolt straight to Rafe’s cock, making him throb inside you. ‘’That's it, baby,’’ he growled, even more turned on. ‘’Let Daddy know how much you love being fucked.’’

He pistoned into you harder, the force causing your breasts to bounce with each thrust. The obscene slapping of skin against skin echoed through the room, adding to the soundtrack of your other sounds. It looked like a scene straight from a spicy booktok romance.

Rafe brought a hand around your neck, forcing you to look up. “Look at yourself.”

You lifted your eyes to the reflection in the mirror. It was a view that was erotic. Seeing yourself nude and flushed along with him, and feeling it at the same time was nearly mesmerizing. The look on your face was hazy, strained, and blissful, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. You locked eyes with Rafe through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear.

Behind you, sweat was sticking to Rafe’s smooth chest, but he didn't slow down. He must have really good stamina. You locked eyes with him through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear. 

‘’Are we putting on a good show?’’ he asked, his voice hoarse and low. His words made your cunt clench around Rafe like a vice. He threw his head back with a groan, his whole body tightening. ''Fuck, you're gonna cut my blood flow if you keep squeezing me like that.''

You wanted to stop, but you couldn’t. You had lost all control of your body, gasping and clenching and rutting hard against Rafe until you came with a drawn-out moan. You shivered through your orgasm and Rafe's steady thrusts. 

When he started to shake, you swallowed hard and found your voice. ‘’Come on, Rafey. Fill me up. Cum deep in my pussy, Daddy!’’ 

That pushed him over the edge, his whole body spasming, cock forced all the way in and filling up the condom. Your chest heaving, trying to catch a breath as he rode out the high, grunts and groans leaving his lips. 

You've never heard anything sexier. 

When he was finished, Rafe pulled out and stepped back, leaving alone on your wobbly legs. You started to lose balance, and quickly grabbed the vanity's edge.

‘’Shit, you good?’’ Rafe asked, his tone hovering between concern and smug satisfaction.

You gave a small nod. You just needed to sit. 

His eyes scanned slowly down your body. ''Fucked you that good, uh?'' he said with a smirk, teasing. 

You shot him a playful glare, going to sit on your bed. ‘’Fuck you, Cameron.’’ 

Rafe laughed as he removed and tossed the condom in your trash. ‘’Just did, Princess.’’ 

God. Could he be more exasperating?

He checked on the way back, reading something that made him frown. ‘’Eh, I gotta go.’’

‘’Now?! We just fucked.’’ 

Although this was a casual fuck and that it’s usually how it ends, you didn’t want him to leave right after. You didn’t expect him to cuddle, but you had hoped he would stay a little. To talk or watch something on Netflix. 

Rafe dressed quickly, explaining that Wheezie needed to drive her to her friend’s house because Rose’s car was not starting. 

Before exiting your room, he called your name. ‘’You sound so pretty when you cum.''

Your cheeks flushed and you hid your face with a pillow. ''Rafe...'' 

The corners of his lips curved into a smug smile. He wasn’t done. ‘’Oh, and I liked when you called me Daddy. It's hot.''

—

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[writerdownbookworder]

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

[jaystardust]

‎˙✧˖°📁 ⋆｡˚‧ OFFICE HOURS

Pairing: lee heeseung x female reader

Genre: Manager Heeseung, Workplace, Suggestive, inspired by No Doubt MV

Warnings: Suggestive

Summary: When your boss, Heeseung, demands you to come to the office during a heatwave while everyone else works from home, you’re frustrated by his arrogant, demanding ways. But as the heat intensifies, so does the tension between both of you, turning annoyance into undeniable attraction.

Words count: 3.3K

The heat was unbearable, even by summer standards. You felt every inch of the sticky air clinging to your skin as you entered the building. Your clothes were pressed uncomfortably to you, and the usually spacious lobby felt stifling, a symptom of the broken air conditioning that had sent all employees home. Well, almost all employees.

You took a deep breath, fingers gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you made your way up to the office, the whole building unnaturally quiet, almost deserted. The annoyance simmered beneath the surface, each step a reminder of the early-morning email that dragged you in.

“YN, I require you in the office today. It’s an urgent matter, so please be here by nine.”

The message had Heeseung’s name signed at the bottom, as if he were doing you some great favor by deigning to summon you into the heat-ridden office while he remained cool, collected, and oblivious to your discomfort.

Your phone chimed as you approached your floor, and you saw another message from Heeseung:

“Are you here yet?”

With a huff, you pocketed your phone and headed toward his office, finally pushing open the glass door to see him sitting there, looking effortlessly… handsome, if you were honest with yourself. He was fanning himself with a file, his sleeves rolled up, collar slightly open, and that usual smug look on his face that made your frustration bubble over.

“Heeseung,” you greeted coolly, folding your arms over your chest. “You dragged me in here because…?”

His gaze flickered up, sharp and assessing, a small smirk curving on his lips as he looked you over. “Nice of you to show up on time. And I thought punctuality wasn’t your strong suit.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for giving me an option,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm

He ignored your tone, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly relaxed look. “I need you here to go over the quarterly report in person. There are a few key points I want to discuss, and remote work just wasn’t cutting it.”

You felt the sweat trickle down your neck, a reminder of the oppressive heat lingering in the room. “You know the AC is out, right? Or was that part of your plan?”

A chuckle escaped him, low and quiet. “Maybe I just wanted to test your commitment to the job.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the room and taking a seat across from him. “So, what’s this urgent matter that required me to show up in person?”

Heeseung glanced at you, his eyes drifting to your bare arms, where you’d rolled up your sleeves in an attempt to cool off. “There are some details in the report that need immediate attention,” he replied, his voice calm and measured. But you noticed the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his lips pressed together slightly, as if he was holding back more than just words.

The silence stretched between you, and you shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling the weight of it as the heat pressed down. Heeseung seemed to notice, too, loosening another button on his collar, the sight of his neck and collarbone more distracting than you cared to admit. You looked away, heat pooling in your cheeks, an unwelcome but undeniable reaction to his presence.

“You don’t have to stay all day,” he added after a pause, his tone dropping an octave, softer, almost teasing. “Just until we’re… satisfied.”

You felt a strange pulse in your chest at his choice of words, his voice heavy with implication. He was too close, his presence too intense, and the heat only amplified the tension already thick in the air. You could feel your pulse quickening, each glance, each slight movement building the pressure between you.

The file in your hand felt heavy, but you held onto it tightly, refusing to let yourself get swept up in the charged atmosphere. “Let’s get this over with,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart was racing.

Heeseung’s smirk widened slightly as he reached for his own copy of the report, leaning forward, his arm brushing yours, sending a jolt through you that you couldn’t ignore. You looked down, the movement forcing you to notice the subtle, intoxicating scent of his cologne, a mix of something clean and woody, and the heat only seemed to make it stronger.

Heeseung’s hand came to rest just beside yours on the table, and his fingers brushed yours ever so slightly, sparking a shiver that shot up your arm.

“You’re tense,” he observed, his voice a whisper, eyes meeting yours. “You don’t need to be.” His tone was soft, but there was a glint in his gaze, an invitation wrapped in those simple words.

You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to keep it together, but your voice betrayed you. “If you keep looking at me like that, Heeseung, I will walk out of here.”

“Looking at you?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as his fingers traced a light line over the back of your hand, lingering there. “I thought you weren’t the type to run from a challenge.”

“Maybe I’m just not interested in this kind of challenge,” you whispered, though the flutter in your stomach told a different story.

Heeseung leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek. “I don’t think that’s true.”

The space between you seemed to disappear as he reached up, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering at your jaw. His touch was soft, tentative, but filled with intention, and you felt yourself leaning into it despite yourself.

The warmth of Heeseung’s fingers lingered on your skin, a subtle touch that felt anything but casual. His gaze softened, and for a moment, the cocky facade he wore so easily faded, replaced by something deeper, something… vulnerable.

You swallowed, feeling the air between you thicken. He hadn’t moved, his hand still at your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek, setting off an unsteady rhythm in your chest. Your mind screamed at you to snap out of it, to brush him off, to act unaffected, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from him.

And then he moved, slowly, his lips just a breath away from yours, giving you one last chance to pull away. But instead, you felt yourself leaning in, closing the distance as if you were both magnetized, unable to resist the pull.

When your lips finally met, it was electric, a collision of every lingering stare, every hidden tension that had built up between you since day one. His lips were soft but insistent, coaxing you, drawing you in deeper, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back just as fervently, hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss intensified, a heady mix of heat and desire, as if all the frustration and annoyance you’d felt for him was being transformed into something else entirely. You didn’t care anymore about the temperature in the room, or the fact that this was your manager, or the flood of feelings he stirred in you that you barely understood. All you could focus on was the way his mouth moved against yours, each kiss deeper and more urgent than the last.

You let out a quiet gasp as he pushed you back slightly, guiding you against the edge of the desk. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, filled with a desire that left you breathless.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured, his voice rough, sending a thrill down your spine. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing the fabric of your top, slipping just beneath it to rest on your bare skin.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered, but your hands were already moving to the collar of his shirt, fingers brushing against his neck as you loosened another button, craving more of him.

He laughed, low and quiet, his lips grazing your jaw, down to your neck. “I think we’re both a little guilty of pretending we don’t care,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “But I’ve wanted this… wanted you… from the start.”

His words sent your heart racing, and any lingering hesitation evaporated as his mouth moved along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, making you arch into him, every nerve alight with anticipation. You pulled him closer, feeling the firmness of his chest pressed against you, the sensation intoxicating.

Heeseung’s hands slid to your hips, lifting you onto the edge of the desk as he stood between your legs, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs, sending tingling sensations all through you. Your hands drifted to his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, exposing his arms and the toned muscles you’d only ever caught glimpses of.

You kissed him again, your movements urgent, almost desperate, the heat between you consuming. His hands traced up your sides, slipping beneath your top, pushing it higher until it was discarded somewhere on the floor. His gaze swept over you, appreciation and hunger mingling in his eyes, and you felt a rush of confidence, of satisfaction, knowing you had this effect on him.

He pulled you closer, his hands firm against your back as he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if trying to memorize every part of you. Your fingers traced the bare skin of his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he leaned into you, his mouth exploring every inch of skin he could reach. His name slipped from your lips, barely a whisper, but enough to make him pause, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

“Say that again,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek, his gaze focused, almost reverent.

“Heeseung…” you breathed, the sound sending a shiver through him.

At that, he pulled you closer, his kisses trailing down your collarbone, down to your shoulder, his hands roaming over your body, every touch leaving you craving more. You let yourself get lost in him, in the weight of his touch, in the way his lips traced down your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the earlier arrogance he so often showed.

“Why did you wait so long?” you whispered, tilting his face up to meet yours, unable to shake the question as he looked at you, a mixture of warmth and desire in his eyes.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he answered. “Because… every time I thought about you, I knew I’d lose control.”

“Maybe I wanted you to lose control,” you replied, your voice barely more than a murmur, your hand moving to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm, strong and steady, mirroring your own.

His mouth met yours again, harder this time, as if those words had unlocked something in him. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, and any remaining distance between you disappeared as he lifted you slightly, his lips never leaving yours. The room seemed to fade around you as he deepened the kiss, his hands tracing down your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this was dangerous, that you were crossing a line, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not when his hands were on you, his mouth against yours, his body pressed against yours in a way that felt both grounding and electric.

You tugged him closer, fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders, his chest, marveling at how someone who could be so infuriating could also make you feel like this, like you were the only person in the world. His lips moved back up to your neck, trailing soft kisses up to your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “Are you sure you want this?”

Your response was immediate, a soft “Yes,” that felt like a promise, and with that, any hesitation he had seemed to vanish. He lifted you in his arms, guiding you further onto the desk, his hands holding you securely as he kissed you, each touch, each movement, a slow, intoxicating unraveling of all the walls you’d built between you.

Heeseung's hands traced along your sides, memorizing every curve, every inch of skin, his touch both tender and possessive. You lost track of time, of where you were, letting yourself get swept away in the heat, in the desire that seemed to consume you both, until nothing else mattered but this moment.

For once, you didn’t care about tomorrow or what this would mean for your work, for the strange push-and-pull between you and Heeseung that had driven you crazy for so long. All you knew was that here, now, in his arms, every unspoken word, every hidden look finally made sense.

As Heeseung’s lips traveled along your jawline, his warm breath fanning over your skin, every nerve in your body felt alive, every touch leaving you wanting more. The heat in the room no longer mattered; it was dwarfed by the fire between you two, something undeniable and electric that had been simmering for too long. Your heart raced as he took his time, his lips and hands exploring every inch of your exposed skin, leaving a trail of warmth and goosebumps in his wake.

His hands moved from your waist, up your back, pressing you closer to him, fingers tracing circles that left you shivering despite the warmth. You couldn’t help but respond, your own hands finding their way over his shoulders and down his back, fingertips brushing the muscles that tensed beneath your touch. Each movement between you felt like a silent confession, a revelation of how long you’d both resisted this, yet how deeply you both needed it.

Heeseung paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his breathing heavy, and the raw intensity in his gaze sent a thrill down your spine. There was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before—something softer, almost reverent, as if he was seeing you for the first time and finally allowing himself to admit what he’d felt all along. The room was silent except for your breaths, mingling in the small space between you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could speak, he leaned in, capturing your lips again in a kiss that was softer this time, yet just as passionate. It was slow and deliberate, a contrast to the urgency that had ignited between you just moments ago. The tenderness in his kiss surprised you, melting any remaining defenses you had. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his jaw, feeling the slight roughness there, anchoring yourself in the moment.

Heeseung’s hands slid up, resting on either side of your face as he deepened the kiss, his thumbs brushing gently along your cheekbones. There was an unspoken understanding, a mutual need to make up for every moment you’d denied yourselves this, and the kisses grew more intense, more consuming with each passing second.

You could feel him smile slightly against your lips, a mischievous spark in his gaze as he broke away, resting his forehead against yours. “You know, if I’d known dragging you into this office would lead to this…” He let the sentence trail off, his grin widening as he searched your face, clearly pleased with the way you were looking at him.

“Oh, I’m sure you knew exactly what you were doing,” you retorted, trying to keep your tone light despite the fact that your heart was still racing.

“Maybe I did.” He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper as his fingers trailed along your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear. “But I didn’t expect you to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, feeling a rush of warmth in your cheeks.

“Like you’ve wanted this as much as I have,” he replied, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just letting the words hang in the air. You felt your heart pounding, the weight of everything that had led to this moment, the months of stolen glances, of unspoken tension, coming to a head. It was strange, feeling this way about someone who had driven you crazy with his arrogance, his endless demands, yet now, standing here, you couldn’t deny that there was more to him than you’d let yourself see before.

Your hand moved to his face, tracing the line of his jaw as you looked into his eyes, letting yourself truly see him. “Maybe I have,” you admitted softly, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the arrogant, bossy exterior he usually wore was completely stripped away, leaving only the man in front of you, vulnerable and just as affected by this as you were. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes, his hands gently holding your waist, as if grounding himself.

When he finally looked up, his expression had changed. There was a new determination in his gaze, something deeper, as though he was making a silent promise to himself—and to you.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. “I want… more than just this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the unexpected sincerity catching you off guard. You hadn’t thought about what would happen after today, after finally giving in to the feelings you’d both been ignoring for so long. But looking at him now, seeing the honesty in his eyes, you realized that maybe… you wanted more, too.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to intertwine with yours. It was a small, almost hesitant gesture, but it spoke volumes, a sign of the unspoken connection between you, a promise of something beyond the walls of this office.

“So,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze with a playful smirk. “Are you still mad at me for making you come in today?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at him, unable to keep the smile off your face. “I suppose I can let it slide this time… as long as you don’t make it a habit.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hands gently. “Deal. But don’t think I’ll stop asking you to work late if it means we get more moments like this.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he replied, his smirk softening into a genuine smile.

As you stood there together, the heatwave outside forgotten, the hum of the empty office surrounding you, you knew that this was the start of something unexpected, something that would change everything.

A/N : kind of did it in a rush, hope you liked it tho !!!

[maybanksprincess]

toys with jj!

warnings: smut, rough jj, spitting in mouth, kissing, choking, hair pulling, squirting.

requested by my love @jjmaybankssurfergf , hope you like it baby. 💋

jj had a particularly rough day. kooks, and the hot summer sun blazing down on him all day while he worked. he came home in a sour mood, immediately unbuckling his belt and shoving you down onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll.

when he got in these moods, you were more than happy to oblige with anything he said because you just wanted to make him happy.

"y' gonna sit here and take me, i don't wanna hear no complaining. got it?" he said, with a stern look in his eyes, as he never stopped working to get your panties off.

all you could do is nod, you were resisting the urge to press your thighs together from the way he spat in your face when he yelled at you.

he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, pulling his boxers down just enough to reveal his thick, red cock, leaking with precum.

without warning, he nudges his tip at your entrance and slides himself in, causing you to yelp in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

he wraps his ringed hand around your throat, squeezing enough to cut off some of your circulation. "shh. be a good girl and jus' take it, hm?" he says as he snaps his hips into yours.

you couldn't contain the whimpers that escaped past your throat, as he squeezes down on it, the pleasure becoming all too much, your vision hazy.

"j- please." you say with a hoarse voice, one of your hands moving to try and push his hand away.

he abruptly pulls out of you, his dick coated in your juices. he flips you over onto your stomach, pushing your face down into the pillow.

the bed dips as jj stands up from it, walking to a corner of the room. your too nervous to speak at the moment, so you just lay there, hoping he comes back. after a few moments you can hear muffled sounds of drawers opening and closing.

after about 30 seconds, he comes back with something in hand, your face still pushed down into the pillow, your eyes met with nothing but darkness.

after a few moments, you stop biting down on your lip nervously, and speak up, curiosity getting the best of you. "jay, what are u holding?" you ask in a soft, muffled voice.

"since you cant listen, im gonna stretch both of your little holes out." he says, leaving no room for an argument.

he grabs a bottle of lubricant, coating one of his fingers in the liquid, then pushing it into your ass, moving it in and out of your tight hole.

"y' see this mama?" he says, pulling you up by your hair roughly, holding the thick dildo in front of your face.

your eyes go wide, seeing the thick silicone toy in his grasp. you open your mouth to protest, but you knew better than to protest when he gets in this mood, knowing it wouldn't end well for you.

when you shut up and nod, a devilish smirk forms on his face. "good girl." he reaches around and presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling his finger out of your ass.

"see, all you had to do was listen." he says, before pushing his own veiny cock in your pussy from behind, stretching your hole deliciously.

a few moments later, you can feel the silicone toy line up with your asshole, sliding inside with ease, thanks to the lubricant he used beforehand.

he pushes the toy and his dick in both of your holes at the same time, drawing a moan from his lips. he watches the way your pussy and ass clench around both dicks, it was almost enough to make him bust in that moment.

you could feel all your control and self restraint slip away at that moment, letting him take complete control of you, submitting to him as you close your eyes and moan into the pillow.

as both dicks penetrated you, all you could think about was the sounds jj were making behind you, the way his hand was gripping your hair roughly, and it only served to make you wetter than before.

you could feel a overwhelming pressure in your abdomen that was begging to be released.

"jay...'m gonna cum." you say, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, drool falling from the corner of your mouth.

he grunts from behind you "no, you cum when i tell you to."

he lets go of your hair, and grabs you by your throat, pulling you up so your back is against his chest. "who do you belong to, hm?" he says, chasing his orgasm

you try your best to hold back, but the pressure was becoming way too much, "you, jayj. only you." you assure him

"thats good mama." he grabs your cheek roughly, and pries your lips open with his thumb, spitting into your mouth. "swallow." he demands.

you swallow his spit with a whimper, and you clench around him

"you like that shit, huh?" he says, picking up the pace with both of the dicks. "cum f' me mama."

he pushes your head down again, and rubs figure 8's on your clit, coaxing your orgasm.

you immediately let out a loud moan as the pressure band in your stomach snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. your too lost in your pleasure to realize that you soaked jj from behind.

he groans loudly and pulls the silicone toy and his own dick out of you with a popping noise. he bends down to admire the sight of your squirting pussy.

"oh fuck, ma," he groans "your finna do that shit again f' me." he says, flipping you over.

[rafesapologist]

if you would've been the one ─ rafe cameron (part 2)

summary: rafe gets engaged and you find out

warnings: addiction, dr*g use, angst, mentions of drinking, sad rafe, infidelity (don't cheat guys), sensual moments

author's note: i wasn't sure if i was going to write a part two, but some of you requested one so here you go <3

It has been a month since that fateful encounter with you, since he last held you while you sobbed in the middle of town. The sight of you—broken down, vulnerable, crumbling in his arms—haunts Rafe like a tortured ghost, a specter that clings to him, refusing to be exorcised. It plays on a loop in his mind, a visceral memory he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. He remembers the way your voice cracked, the way you trembled against him, and the sound of your broken cries feels like a knife twisting in his chest, again and again.

Sofia moved in with him just a few days after that night, boxes stacked in the living room, her laughter filling the house as she unpacked their future together. On the surface, everything looked perfect. Rafe played his part well—smiling, planning the wedding, talking about the life they were going to build. He made everyone believe that his life was finally on track, that he was happy and settled. But the truth was far from the polished facade he showed to the world.

In reality, his nights had become a battleground of regrets. He would lie awake long after Sofia had drifted off to sleep, staring up at the ceiling as the images of your tear-streaked face replayed behind his eyes. The memory of your sobs haunted him, an echo that reverberated in the dark corners of his mind, refusing to be silenced. The sound of your voice—broken, raw, filled with so much hurt—was something he couldn’t shut out, no matter how tightly he closed his eyes.

While Sofia lay beside him, dreaming about their wedding, their future, and all the things he had promised her, Rafe was stuck in a different kind of dream—a waking nightmare. He relived that night over and over, his subconscious torturing him with the choices he’d made, the words he couldn’t take back. He would wake up in a cold sweat, his chest tight, the ghost of your presence lingering in the room. He could almost feel your tears soaking through his shirt again, the phantom weight of your body pressed against his as you cried out every last bit of hurt he’d caused.

It was like being trapped in a loop he couldn’t escape from, a purgatory of his own making. Every smile he gave Sofia, every kiss, felt like a betrayal—to her, to you, and to himself. He was playing the role of a man who had everything figured out, but inside, he was unraveling, piece by piece. Because he knew the truth he couldn’t admit to anyone—not even to himself. He wasn’t haunted by the life he was building with Sofia. He was haunted by the life he’d lost with you. And it was a loss that was slowly eating him alive.

Rafe picked up his old habits like an old, familiar coat—one that he’d hoped to never wear again. In the days and weeks following that night, the weight of his regret and guilt became unbearable, pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe. He tried to push it all away, to bury himself in his plans with Sofia, to drown out the echo of your words in the monotony of his new life. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t escape the sound of your broken voice, the look in your eyes as you told him how much he had destroyed you.

That was the night his sobriety came to a screeching halt.

He remembered sitting on the edge of his bed, Sofia already asleep beside him, her breathing soft and steady. He stared down at his hands, the same hands that had held you, that had pushed you away, that had made all the wrong choices. It was like he could still feel the ghost of your touch, the imprint of your fingers as you shoved him in a fit of anger. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, and he needed something—anything—to numb the pain.

Rafe knew where to go, who to call. It was frighteningly easy to slip back into old routines, to let the darkness swallow him whole. He took his first line of coke that night, the familiar burn hitting him hard, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he felt relief. The crushing weight of his emotions lifted, replaced by a rush of artificial euphoria. It felt like he had control again, like he could breathe. But it was a lie—a dangerous, seductive lie that he willingly bought into.

The weeks that followed were a blur of late nights and reckless choices. What had started as a desperate attempt to cope quickly spiraled into something darker. His addiction came back with a vengeance, tenfold worse than before. It became a weekly ritual, then every few days, until it was nearly a daily habit. Rafe would disappear for hours, locking himself in the bathroom or sneaking off to the garage, cutting lines on the cold surface of the counter, inhaling deeply as the familiar numbness washed over him.

Sofia was oblivious. She’d look at him with concern sometimes, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly when he thought no one was watching. But Rafe was good at hiding it. He knew how to play the part, how to keep up the facade of the doting fiancé, the man who had everything under control. He’d smile, kiss her on the forehead, tell her everything was fine. And she believed him. Why wouldn’t she? To her, he was still the man who had turned his life around, who was ready to settle down and start fresh.

But in reality, Rafe was spiraling, falling deeper into a pit of his own making. The regret of losing you, the guilt of betraying what he once felt for you, was a constant gnawing at his soul. He’d lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with all the what ifs that he couldn’t shut off. What if he had fought for you? What if he had chosen you instead? What if he had never let things fall apart?

The only thing he felt like he had control over was the drugs he was putting into his body. It was the one thing that numbed the pain, that quieted the screaming in his head, even if just for a little while. It was the only way he knew how to cope with the reality he had created, a reality where he was haunted by the ghost of you, the woman he still loved, but had pushed away.

And with every line he snorted, he knew he was digging himself deeper into a hole he might never climb out of. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not anymore. Because in his mind, this was his punishment—his self-inflicted penance for the life he had ruined, not just yours, but his own as well.

The weekend finally arrived, and Topper’s invitation to the Pelican Yacht Club felt like an aid thrown into the raging sea Rafe had been drowning in. Topper had insisted he come out, promising a carefree day of drinks and laughter with old friends—a chance to forget about the chaos that had become his life. Rafe had been hesitant, rightfully so. The yacht club wasn’t just a place anymore; it was a scene of memories, and there was a good chance you’d be there. It was your workplace, after all, and Rafe knew that running into you could rip open wounds that were still fresh and bleeding.

But as he stood there in the mirror, staring at his own reflection, he realized he had nothing left to lose. His spiraling had already reached its peak. He was a man standing at the edge, and avoiding you now felt pointless. The drugs had dulled the pain, numbed him enough to survive each day, but they hadn’t erased the hollow ache in his chest. In his mind, he reasoned that maybe seeing you would bring him the closure he never got—an end to the nightmare he’d been living since that night he held you while you cried.

He agreed to go. He left the house with Sofia behind, her cheerful wave and bright smile not reaching him the way it once might have. She asked him if he’d be home for dinner, her voice laced with hope, as if she sensed the growing distance between them but couldn’t quite put her finger on why. He told her he’d try, planting a kiss on her forehead out of habit more than affection, and walked out the door without looking back.

The drive to the yacht club felt like an eternity. His fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, the weight of anticipation gnawing at him. He couldn’t tell if he was hoping to see you or praying that you wouldn’t be there. When he arrived, he took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath as he stepped out of the car and into the blazing afternoon sun. The humid air clung to his skin, reminding him of countless summer days spent here with his friends, with you. It felt like a different lifetime.

He spotted Topper almost immediately, surrounded by a familiar group of friends, their laughter echoing across the dock. The sight was almost comforting, a sliver of normalcy in the midst of the chaos his life had become. Rafe plastered on a smile and made his way over, clapping Topper on the back as he was handed a drink. He took a long sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down his throat, and for a moment, he felt like he could pretend that everything was okay.

But it was fleeting. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for you almost unconsciously. He told himself he wasn’t looking for you, but his heart knew better. He could feel it racing in his chest, an unsteady rhythm that only worsened when he finally caught sight of you. There you were, behind the bar, moving with a practiced grace, serving drinks and laughing at something a customer said.

You looked good. Too good. It made his stomach twist with a mix of longing and regret. He wasn’t sure what he expected—that you’d be as broken as he was, perhaps. But you looked like you were surviving, like you had picked up the pieces of your shattered heart and put them back together, even if the cracks were still visible beneath the surface.

Rafe felt a lump form in his throat as he watched you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. This was it, the moment he had been dreading and anticipating all at once. He had braced himself for what might happen, but seeing you again, looking so effortlessly beautiful and so painfully out of reach, knocked the air right out of his lungs.

He turned back to his friends, forcing himself to join in their conversation, to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He could feel the weight of your presence across the bar like a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. He took another long swig of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves, but it only made him feel more on edge.

Rafe knew he had to make a choice—approach you and risk tearing open old wounds, or avoid you and leave things unresolved, the way they’d been left that night in town. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling slightly as he set down his empty glass. He glanced back over at you, his front faltering as he watched you laugh with a customer, the sound of your laughter piercing through the haze of noise around him.

Suddenly, the conversations around Rafe begin to fade, the laughter and chatter of his friends muffled like he’s underwater. He forces a smile, offering a half-hearted chuckle here and there, but his mind is miles away. He keeps sneaking quick glances over his shoulder, looking for you across the bar, though every look is so brief you never notice. It almost pains him, the way you seem oblivious to his presence. But he tells himself it’s busy; you’re too focused on the flow of customers to scan the room. Still, he can’t shake the sting, a dull ache in his chest that grows stronger every time he catches sight of you, the girl he let slip away.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. The thought stings more than he expected it to. How could you be so unaware of the agony ripping him apart from across the room? But he knows it isn't fair to think that. The bar is packed, filled with the usual weekend crowd; your focus is split between orders, conversations, and the rhythm of your job. It's easier this way, he tells himself. If you noticed him, it would complicate things, make the air heavy with unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Yet part of him—a selfish, desperate part—aches for you to look up, to lock eyes with him, even if only for a second. Just to see if he could read something, anything, in your gaze.

Rafe is at war with himself, stuck between the urge to keep his distance and the desperate need to get closer, to say something—anything. His fingers tap nervously against his glass, the buzz of alcohol not strong enough to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

Then one of his friends speaks up, snapping him back to the present. “We’re running low on beer, man. Someone should get another round.”

Without thinking, Rafe jumps in, his voice a little too quick, a little too eager. “I got it,” he blurts out, pushing himself up from his seat. His friends barely notice his sudden enthusiasm, already lost in their own drunken conversations. For them, it’s just Rafe doing a favor. But for him, it’s an excuse, a chance to approach the bar and maybe, just maybe, get a moment alone with you.

He moves through the crowd, weaving between bodies as he makes his way toward the bar. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he’s about to do something reckless. In a way, he is. He hasn’t seen you up close since that night a month ago when he held you in his arms while you broke down in tears, and the memory of it still haunts him. He doesn’t know what he plans to say, or if he’ll even say anything at all. But he has to see you, has to face whatever feelings linger between you.

As he reaches the bar, he spots you right away. You’re busy, turning to grab a bottle from the shelf, your hair falling in loose waves over your shoulder. The sight of you hits him hard, a wave of emotion crashing over him so violently it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like seeing you for the first time all over again, except now there’s an insurmountable distance between you that wasn’t there before.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his khaki shorts, trying to calm himself, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. When you turn around, you don’t notice him at first, focused on passing a drink to a customer. He takes a deep breath, his voice caught in his throat, but he forces the words out anyway.

“Hey, can I get a round of beers?” he asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but enough for you to hear.

The moment you look up to meet his gaze, it's as if time itself halts. The crowded, bustling room fades into the background, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it’s just you and him. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition passing across your face before you can mask it. It’s a split-second crack in your facade, but you quickly snap yourself back into place. The shock, the pain—it all gets shoved down as you force yourself into a state of icy calm.

You give a curt nod, your expression stone-cold, devoid of any trace of the emotions boiling beneath the surface. You glance away, reaching for a stack of glasses without missing a beat. To anyone else, it would look like he’s just another customer, another face in the sea of people.

“Gotcha,” you reply flatly, your voice monotone and unreadable, like a wall going up between you. You don’t give him the satisfaction of anything more, no warmth, no bitterness—just cold indifference. You’re determined not to let him see how much his presence unsettles you, how the mere sight of him brings back every hurtful word, every sleepless night spent crying over the pieces he left behind.

You focus on the task at hand, pulling a few cold beers from the cooler and lining them up on the counter. The silence that stretches between you is suffocating, thick with all the unspoken words that hang in the air like ghosts. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something in your expression, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Rafe swallows hard, the tension settling heavy in his chest. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his tongue. He watches your every move, hoping for a sign—anything—that might tell him you still care, even if it’s just a spark of anger or pain. But you give him nothing.

You slide the beers across the counter toward him, your movements quick and efficient. “Anything else?” you ask, your tone clipped and business-like, as if this moment isn’t ripping you apart from the inside.

Rafe stares at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, searching desperately for something—anything—that might hint at what you’re feeling. But you don’t let him see it. You hold his gaze with a cold, distant expression, one that feels foreign even to you. It’s a stark contrast to the way you looked at him the last time he saw you, broken down and vulnerable. The warmth that once lived in your eyes is gone, replaced by an icy shield you’ve built up to protect yourself.

His mouth opens for a second, and it almost looks like he’s going to say something—something important, something that might change the trajectory of this interaction. But he hesitates, words caught in his throat, and you see the flicker of conflict flash across his face. He bites his tongue, the sentence dying before it ever has a chance to leave his lips.

“Uh—no, that’s all. Thank you,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s awkward, hollow, like he’s a shell of the man you once knew. He picks up the beers off the counter, his hand shaking slightly, and without another word, he turns away from you. He moves quickly, as if he’s trying to escape the weight of the moment, the unbearable silence hanging between you.

You watch him leave, his shoulders tense, his movements almost robotic as he disappears back into the crowd. A part of you wants to call him back, to demand answers, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But you don’t. You stand there, rooted to the spot, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you remind yourself that he’s no longer your concern. He made his choice.

Rafe returns to his friends, dropping the beers onto the table with a thud that goes unnoticed by the group. They’re too caught up in their drunken laughter, their cheers filling the air as they reach for the drinks, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside him. He forces a smile, pretending to be present, but his mind is miles away.

The brief encounter with you replays in his head on an endless loop, each second of it magnified, dissected, and analyzed like a broken record he can’t turn off. He can’t stop thinking about the look in your eyes—so cold and unfeeling, a far cry from the warmth and love they used to hold. It’s like staring into the face of a stranger, and it makes his chest ache with regret.

He takes a long swig of his beer, hoping the alcohol will numb the gnawing feeling in his gut, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the hollow sensation grow worse. He questions every part of that brief interaction: Should he have said something different? Should he have apologized again, right then and there? Should he have tried to explain himself, to make you see how much he’s been suffering too?

But it’s too late now. The moment has passed, and he knows he can’t change it. All he’s left with is the echo of your monotone “gotcha” and the way you looked right through him like he was nothing. He clenches his jaw, staring down at the condensation forming on his bottle, the laughter of his friends now just white noise in the background.

Rafe tries to shake it off, telling himself to get over it, to move on like everyone else seems to have. But he can’t. He’s stuck, trapped in his own head, replaying the scene over and over as he mentally beats himself up for everything he did wrong. It feels like a downward spiral he has no control over, a reminder that no matter how hard he tries to pretend everything is fine, the cracks are still there, ready to shatter him completely.

The night drags on, hours passing by in a haze for Rafe as he tries to drown his thoughts in drink after drink. The buzz of alcohol settles over him, a dull hum that makes him feel lighter, even if just for a moment. It’s a temporary escape, a slight escape from the relentless torment of his own mind. By the time his friends decide to call it a night, the Pelican Yacht Club has long since closed its doors.

The group gathers outside, their laughter a little louder, their goodbyes a little sloppier as they make plans to meet up again soon. Rafe stands at the edge of the group, his smile forced as he nods along, contributing half-heartedly to their final jokes. He feels distant, like he’s watching the scene play out from somewhere far away. One by one, his friends leave, until he’s the last one lingering in the parking lot, alone.

He sways slightly, fumbling in his pocket as he searches for his car keys. His coordination is off, the alcohol making his movements clumsy. He curses under his breath, frustration bubbling up as he struggles to pull the keys free from the tight fabric of his jeans. His head feels foggy, and the dull ache of regret pounds against his temples, as if the night is mocking him.

Just as he finally pulls the keys from his pocket, the sound of the front door creaking open behind him makes him freeze. The noise cuts through the silence, startling him. He turns around, his heart sinking when he sees you standing there.

You step out into the faint glow of the parking lot lights, your expression unreadable as you lock up for the night. The sight of you is enough to sober him up slightly, his buzz fading into a sharp pang of anxiety and longing. He hadn’t expected to see you again, not tonight, and certainly not like this. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, his mind racing with what he could possibly say after everything.

You don’t notice him at first, too focused on locking up, the familiar clicks of the door securing in place as you twist the key. It’s been a long night, and you’re eager to get home, to escape the remnants of the day’s chaos. But when you turn around, ready to leave, you see him standing there, swaying slightly under the lights of the parking lot. Rafe’s figure is slouched, his face half-shadowed, and even from a distance, you can tell he’s had too much to drink.

You sigh quietly to yourself, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You cross your arms defensively, a barrier between the two of you, as if it might protect you from the emotions he still stirs up inside you. “Rafe, what are you doing?” you ask, your tone edged with annoyance and judgment. It’s a reflex, your way of keeping him at arm’s length, of pretending that the sight of him doesn’t affect you as much as it does.

Rafe stares at you for a moment, looking caught off guard. He struggles to find his words, his brain muddled from the alcohol. “I was just—uh, leaving,” he mumbles, the words tumbling out clumsily. He mentally curses himself, hating how weak he sounds, how pathetic he must look to you right now. He’s Rafe Cameron—he’s supposed to have it all together, but here he is, fumbling in front of you like a lost kid.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, we’re closed, so...” you say, your voice trailing off in a dismissive tone. You don’t finish the sentence, but the implication is clear: there’s nothing left for him here. Not tonight, and maybe not ever.

Your expression remains stone-cold, void of any emotion, and it sends a sharp pang through Rafe’s chest. He’s used to seeing fire in your eyes, whether it was anger, passion, or even sadness. But this cold indifference—it’s like a knife twisting in his gut. It’s as if you’ve already made up your mind about him, as if he’s just another inconvenience at the end of your shift.

Rafe stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, suffocating him with each passing second. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to undo the damage he’s done, but his mind races, desperate for something to break the silence. Your cold indifference cuts through him like a blade, and for a moment, he feels as if he’s drowning in his own regret.

You turn your heel to walk to your car, the sound of your footsteps sharp against the quiet night, but Rafe’s voice halts you abruptly. “Y/n, wait,” he calls out, his tone more urgent than he intended, the alcohol slurring his words slightly.

You pause, but don’t turn around immediately, your body stiff with tension. You can feel the heaviness of his gaze on you. You knew he was going to say something, but you didn’t know what. Did he even have the right to speak to you? After everything?

Rafe takes a tentative step forward, his voice quieter now, but no less filled with a kind of desperation. “Please,” he adds, almost pleading. "I... I just need to say something." His hand twitches at his side, as if he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t, knowing it’s the last thing you probably want from him.

You hesitate, your fingers brushing the handle of your car door, torn between the need to escape and the need to understand. Rafe’s presence pulls at something deep inside you, but it’s a complicated knot of emotions you can’t untangle in a moment. You glance between him and your car, the battle in your chest raging, before your shoulders slump in defeat. You can’t leave him like this—not without hearing him out.

With a sharp exhale, you turn, looking at him once more. He’s waiting, as if he didn’t quite believe you’d stay, his posture stiff with tension. His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you allow him that moment to speak. You give him an inch, but that’s all you’re willing to give.

Rafe’s breath shakes as he lets out a small sigh of relief, as though your decision to stay has momentarily lifted a weight from his chest. He shifts his weight nervously, not sure if he’s even saying the right things, but it doesn’t matter now. The words come tumbling out, almost too quickly. “I can’t... leave things where they were when we last talked,” he admits, his voice wavering with something close to regret and need.

You stare at him, confused, eyebrows furrowing as you process what he’s saying. The statement doesn’t sit right with you. You’ve been through so much, and now, after everything, he’s just showing up like this? The anger and the hurt bubble back up, and you feel your guard rise even higher. "What’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty and a hint of frustration. His words don’t add up. After everything he’s put you through, after how he left, now he’s trying to make things right? It doesn’t make sense.

Rafe’s gaze flits around the parking lot, his fingers tugging at his hair as if trying to find something solid to hold onto in this conversation. His thoughts are racing, but the words come out in fragments, stammering as though he doesn’t even believe what he’s trying to say. “I—I don’t think we should leave off this way, you know? Maybe we just need... some closure?” He glances at you briefly, but quickly looks away, the uncertainty in his voice giving the whole thing a shaky feel.

You stand there, arms still crossed tightly over your chest, your posture defensive as you process his words. You stare at him, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips, shaking your head in disbelief. “Closure?” you repeat, scoffing slightly, as if the very idea of it is laughable. Your voice hardens as the frustration and anger come rushing back, thickening your tone. “I don’t need any closure from you, Rafe. It’s pretty damn clear what your decision is here. You’re getting married. What else is there to say?”

Rafe’s face pales at your words, and for a moment, he looks almost defeated. The sting of your anger hits him harder than anything he could have prepared for. He expected you to be upset, angry—hell, maybe even hurt—but this... this is different. The bitterness in your voice, the coldness in your eyes, it cuts deeper than anything he’s felt before.

"I know, I know but—" he mutters, his frustration bleeding through as he paces, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to gather his thoughts. "I can’t stand the thought of you hating me for the rest of your life because of this." The words fall from his lips full of desperation, his voice strained as he looks back at you, trying to convey something—anything—that could undo the damage.

His gaze locks with yours, searching for any hint of vulnerability, any crack in the wall you’ve built between the two of you. And for a brief, fleeting moment, he swears he sees something in your eyes—hurt, maybe even a glimmer of sympathy—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. In its place, that same stone-cold, unreadable look that he’s grown all too familiar with tonight.

Your expression hardens again, and when you speak, your voice is quieter, but just as resolute. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to move on, Rafe. I don’t have anything left to say to you anymore that’s gonna change what happens." You take a deep breath, your body tense as you prepare to put an end to this conversation. "So go back home to your fiancée and leave me alone."

His heart clenches painfully at the finality of your words. The way you speak—so detached, so sure of yourself—it makes everything feel so much worse. He thought there might be a chance, even the smallest one, for him to explain himself, to somehow make things right, but with each word you say, that possibility slips further and further away.

“Y/n,” he says softly, and it feels like a plea, like he’s begging for something you can’t give. His eyes meet yours, desperation and regret clouding his expression. “I made a mistake. You were right, I didn’t try hard enough. I was so used to everyone in my life leaving me that I pushed you away before I thought you could do it to me.” His voice cracks slightly on the last part, and he takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch. You stay still, frozen by his words. “I can’t change that, but I need you to know that this is ruining me. I spend every damn day and night replaying what you said to me in my head,” he continues, his fingers tapping frantically at his temple, as if the memory of your hurtful words is a physical wound he can’t escape. “I can’t let you go, y/n.”

The air between you thickens, the words hanging heavily in the silence that follows. Your heart wrenches at the rawness in his voice, but there’s still so much anger, so much betrayal coiled inside you that you refuse to let it go. You were right. You knew, deep down, that the Rafe you loved—who you thought was yours—was gone, replaced by someone who could never give you what you needed.

"Stop," you finally say, your voice low, trembling with everything you've been holding inside. "Stop pretending like this is about me. It’s about you, Rafe. Always has been. You don’t get to come here, to pull me back into your mess, just because you feel guilty. You don’t get to destroy me and expect me to just pick up the pieces and put you back together."

You take a step back, the space between you growing, but your chest tightens. His words echo in your mind, but you can't let them have the power they once did. Not anymore.

“Y/n, please, don’t do this,” he begs, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and pain as he gazes up at you. Then, before you can even process it, he falls to his knees in front of you. The motion is sudden, startling, and leaves you frozen, speechless. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, as if he can somehow erase the past with his touch, his brokenness seeping into you like a virus you’ve already fought too long to get rid of.

“I need you,” he mumbles against your stomach, and you can hear the tears in his voice. The man who used to be your world is now kneeling before you, broken, crying, and pleading in a way you never thought you'd see. It's almost too much, the weight of it crushing your chest, but you fight it. You fight it hard, as though giving in would undo everything you’ve worked so hard to build.

You try to push him away, but your hands falter, shaking as they hover over him. You don’t want to give in. You don’t want to let him pull you back into his chaos. Not after everything.

“Rafe... please, just stop,” you say, but even to your own ears, your voice is weak, trembling with the same sorrow you’ve been trying so hard to bury. You don’t know whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself. Your chest tightens with every second he holds onto you, every second he doesn’t let go.

He doesn’t stop. His grip on you only tightens as he looks up at you, his face streaked with tears, eyes full of raw, untamed emotion.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve let you go. I never should’ve pushed you away. I—” His voice cracks, and he buries his face in your stomach, unable to finish the sentence. The sound of his sobs against your skin is almost too much to bear. It stirs something in you, something painful, something you thought you’d buried so deep that it couldn’t hurt anymore. But it does.

You shake your head, fighting against the part of you that still wants to be there for him, that still wants to believe in the words he’s saying.

“I can’t look at you the same, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. You tense up, every muscle in your body recoiling from the touch that once brought you comfort but now only fills you with a deep, searing pain. Your face twists into an expression of disgust, your lip trembling as you continue. “I can’t look at you knowing you’ve proposed to somebody else. I don’t think I could ever forget that.”

Your words are laced with a solemn, heartbreaking truth that makes Rafe’s breath hitch. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. He looks utterly broken, his eyes searching yours desperately for any sign that you don’t mean it. But he finds none.

“That’s not something somebody can just get over,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoes in his ears like a shout.

Rafe’s eyes well up with fresh tears. He drops his head, resting his forehead against your stomach as he chokes out a shaky breath. “I know,” he whispers, his voice filled with raw anguish. “I know I’ve ruined everything. But I still love you, y/n. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

You swallow hard, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the pain of his words. “That doesn’t change anything,” you murmur, your hands still hovering over him, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “You made your choice, Rafe. And it wasn’t me.”

He flinches as if you’ve slapped him, his arms falling limply to his sides. The realization that he can’t undo what he’s done, that he’s lost you for good, washes over him, leaving him hollow. He looks up at you one last time, his expression a mixture of desperation and helplessness.

Once Rafe stands up, there’s a brief silence as he stares into your teary eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat as he takes in your appearance — even after a busy day, you still look beautiful and flawless. It’s one of the things he always admired about you, how you could be under a whirlwind of stress and still somehow look perfect. But as he gazes at you now, his eyes fill with dread and desperation.

“Listen to me, y/n, please just listen to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking as he points to his chest. You stay silent but don’t move, your eyes peering up at him with a painfully broken look that he wishes he could erase. “I fucked up, okay? I fucked up. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize it, but I did, and I’m so, so sorry.” His lip trembles, his eyes filled with tears and sorrow.

You stand there, unmoving, as his words spill out with raw emotion, almost tripping over themselves in his haste to get them out. The sight of Rafe, usually so composed, now crumbling in front of you is enough to make your heart ache. You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure, but you can feel your front wavering.

Rafe’s eyes are red and glossy, his lips trembling as he desperately tries to explain himself. He points to his chest, almost as if he’s trying to pull the words directly from his heart, like they’ve been buried deep inside him for too long.

“I still love you,” he whispers, the words trembling on his lips like they’re too fragile to say out loud. “This entire time, I never stopped. I just thought I was doing what was right by letting you go. I thought I was saving you from… from me. I couldn’t ruin your life anymore.”

You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat as his words hang in the space between you like a heavy fog. You want to be angry, to lash out, but instead, all you feel is a deep, consuming sadness. It’s like everything you’ve held back, every ounce of pain and longing, is suddenly sitting right there on the surface, impossible to hide.

Your voice is soft, almost trembling as you speak. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You don’t get to choose when you love me and when you let me go.”

Rafe’s face crumples at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I know,” he chokes out, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was so scared of losing you that I ended up pushing you away. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway.”

There’s a silence that follows, heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of everything left unsaid is pressing down on your chest. You blink back the tears that have gathered in your eyes, finally allowing one to slip down your cheek.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” you admit, your voice strained and filled with a pain that’s almost unbearable to hear.

Rafe steps forward as if to reach for you, but he stops himself, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t expect you to,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I just needed you to know… I needed you to hear it from me. I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall freely as his words wash over you. It feels like every emotion you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way back up to the surface, tearing you apart from the inside. You want to shut him out, to run away and pretend this conversation never happened, but you can’t. Not now. Not after everything he’s said.

With a shaky hand, you wipe the tears from your cheeks, sniffling as you let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “So what now, huh?” you ask, your voice strained with raw emotion. “You love me, but in a few weeks, you’ll be off marrying someone else?”

Your expression twists with anger and heartbreak, the frustration building up like an unbearable pressure in your chest. It’s like everything you’ve held back for so long is finally breaking free, and you can’t stop it anymore. You look at him with a fury born out of pain, your eyes ablaze with a mix of betrayal and sorrow.

Rafe flinches at your words, his face crumpling as if you’ve physically struck him. He shakes his head frantically, trying to find something — anything — to say that will make this right. But the truth is, he doesn’t have an answer. He’s caught in his own web of mistakes, and he knows it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispers, almost to himself, as if he’s trying to convince himself that his actions were justified. But even he knows it’s a lie. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading for some kind of forgiveness, some kind of understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you let me believe that you didn’t care when you knew how much I loved you?”

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with all the things that neither of you can say. You’re both standing there, barely holding it together. Rafe takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out as if he wants to touch you, to comfort you. But you take a step back, shaking your head.

“No — don’t touch me!” you shout, stumbling back as Rafe reaches out for you. You throw your hand in the air, creating a barrier between you. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracks, filled with a raw pain that you’ve been holding in for far too long.

The words escape your lips like a scream, your sobs growing louder as the reality of everything crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. It’s as if the dam you’ve kept up for so long has finally broken, and there’s no stopping the flood of emotions now.

Rafe’s hand drops to his side, his face pale and stricken as he watches you fall apart in front of him. He wants to say something, anything, to take back what he’s done, but the words seem to be caught in his throat, strangled by his own guilt.

“You ruined me, Rafe!” you cry out, your voice laced with a bitterness that makes him flinch. “You fucking ruined me!” You point to your chest, stabbing your finger against your sternum as if you’re trying to drill the pain into him, to make him feel even an ounce of what you’re feeling.

“And now you get to live your life with someone else,” you continue, your words heavy with despair, “and I’m still here, trying to get over you.” Your voice breaks on the last word, your face contorted in anguish as tears stream down your cheeks.

You look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of heartbreak and fury. It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing you for the first time, truly understanding the depth of the pain he’s caused. His lips part as if to say something, but no sound comes out. He stands there, helpless and broken, as he realizes the full weight of what he’s done to you.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you continue, your voice trembling. “To be replaced? To watch you make a future with someone else while I'm still stuck in the past?”

Rafe’s eyes fill with tears, his chest heaving as the weight of his own guilt crashes down on him. He shakes his head, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper, strained with intense emotion. “I see what this has done to you, y/n," he says, his words trembling with sincerity. "And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like this. But this —” he gestures between the two of you, his hand trembling as he struggles to find the right words, “— this is hurting me too.”

His eyes are pleading, desperate for you to understand. “You don’t get what I’m saying, y/n. There is no future without you. I can’t even fucking look at Sofia without subconsciously comparing her to you. I can’t even imagine a life where you’re not there.”

You flinch at his confession, feeling your chest tighten as his words sink in. It feels like a gut punch, hearing him say out loud what you’ve feared deep down — that he still loves you, that he’s been pretending all along. You clench your fists, trying to steel yourself against the burning emotions his words bring up. It hurts too much to even look at him right now, the man who was once your everything, standing there and admitting he still wants you despite everything.

“You’re engaged, Rafe,” you choke out, as if reminding him — or maybe reminding yourself. “You’re about to marry her, start a new life with her. How can you say that to me?”

Rafe shakes his head frantically, wiping the tears from his cheeks as if trying to scrub away his own shame. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t fucking know how I got here. I thought I was doing what was right, I thought I was moving on. But the entire time I’ve been fooling myself. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

You stare at him, stunned into silence. The sincerity in his eyes, the way his voice cracks when he says your name — it’s too much. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear, but it’s also everything you’ve feared because it complicates the pain you’ve worked so hard to bury.

“I can’t stand this,” he continues, taking a step closer. He looks at you with an anguish that you’ve never seen from him before, like he’s on the verge of completely unraveling. “I can’t stand the thought of spending my life with someone else when every part of me still loves you. I don’t want a future where I’m constantly wishing it was you beside me instead.”

“Then why?” you finally whisper, your voice breaking as you look at him through your tears. “Why didn’t you fight for us? Why didn’t you choose me?”

Rafe’s face crumples, a sob escaping his lips as he takes another step forward. “Because I was scared, Y/N. I was scared that I’d destroy you, that I’d ruin your life the way I’ve ruined everything else. I thought you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t drag you down with their bullshit. I thought letting you go was what you needed.”

Your lips tremble, your eyes glued to the ground as you stand there before him, openly weeping. The sobs come out in shuddering gasps, and it’s painfully clear that you’re waging a war with yourself, torn between the pull of your heart and the reality staring you in the face.

“This is wrong...” you choke out, shaking your head as you look down at the pavement. “This entire thing is so fucked up now, Rafe.” You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but your voice cracks with the weight of your words. “I can’t tell you I want to be with you knowing you have a fiancée. I’m not that type of person.”

Rafe looks at you, completely shattered. The realization of how deeply he’s hurt you, and how badly he’s messed everything up, is etched across his face. He steps closer, his hands reaching out, but he stops himself just inches away, as if he’s afraid that touching you would make it even worse.

“You don’t think I know that?” he whispers, his voice filled with a vulnerable, desperate plea. “You don’t think I’ve been tearing myself apart over this? I know what I did. I know I put you in this impossible position. But God, y/n, I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

It’s as if the sincerity in Rafe’s voice drags you into a tidal wave of emotions you can’t control. Your sobs grow harder, louder, as you struggle against the rising tide of everything you’ve kept bottled up inside. You wipe your tears with the back of your trembling hand, trying to steady your breath. It takes every ounce of strength you have left to lift your eyes and look at him, your voice barely a whisper, choked with disbelief.

"So what do you suggest, Rafe?" you manage to get out, your words laced with pain and anger. "Because I’m not a homewrecker, and I’m sure as hell not gonna start now." You say it with a force that surprises even you, as if you need to convince yourself just as much as him.

Rafe’s eyes widen, filling with a desperate, almost frantic light. He steps closer, his hands reaching out as if to touch you, but he hesitates, letting them fall back to his sides. He’s trembling, his chest heaving as he struggles to get the words out. "I’ll... I’ll break things off with her," he stammers, his voice raw and pleading. "I’ll tell her I don’t want this anymore. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."

He looks at you with an earnestness that you haven’t seen in years, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He’s practically begging, his voice breaking as he continues, "Please, just... just let me make this right. Let me fix this."

You stand there, stunned into silence. The weight of his words, the sheer gravity of his promise, leaves you breathless. You search his face, trying to find any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is desperation. He’s standing there, laying his heart bare before you, offering you everything he has left.

And yet, the fear and doubt in your chest tighten like a vice. It’s everything you ever wanted to hear from him, and yet it feels like it’s coming too late. "You’d break off your engagement?" you whisper, almost disbelieving, as if you need him to say it again for you to believe it.

"Yes," Rafe breathes out without hesitation, his voice cracking. "I would. I’ll do it right now if that’s what it takes. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her everything. Just—just don’t walk away from me. Not again."

You stand there, frozen in shock and grief. He’s offering to leave everything behind—his fiancée, his life as he knows it—all for you. It’s everything you once dreamed of hearing from him, but now it feels like a hollow promise, a desperate plea that leaves you at odds with yourself. Your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the memories of the boy you first loved and the stranger standing before you now, a man who’s broken you more than anyone ever has.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of the boy you once knew. "How do I know you won't do the same to me, Rafe?" you ask, your eyes filled with both heartbreak and accusation. "How do I know that you won't change your mind in a few months, or decide again that I'm not worth the fight? How do I trust you after everything you've put me through?"

Rafe's voice shakes, his eyes searching yours, desperate for any sign of understanding. "You’re my first love," he repeats, softer this time, as if the words themselves carry a burden he’s never let go of. His gaze is intense, filled with intense emotion that seems to pierce straight through you.

"I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And I know I messed up, I know I hurt you—more than I ever should have. But you’re the one I keep coming back to, no matter what, no matter how hard I try to move on." He swallows hard, his voice cracking slightly. "I’ve been trying to tell myself that I could be happy with Sofia, that I could settle for what I have now, but I can’t. Not when I keep thinking about you. About us."

His hands twitch at his sides, a barely contained energy as he steps closer, but not enough to invade your space. He seems to respect the distance you’ve created, but you can feel the pull of his presence, the desperation in his every word.

"I made a mistake, y/n," he says, his voice breaking as if the weight of the confession is physically painful. "And I know that doesn’t change anything. But what I feel for you—it’s not something I can just walk away from. I can’t forget about you. I don’t want to forget about you."

You’re silent, your thoughts a tangled mess, but the truth in his words cuts through the chaos, and you can’t help but feel that old connection flaring inside of you. The love that was once so pure, so certain, but now feels like a distant memory, something impossible to hold onto in this moment.

But Rafe is still standing there, eyes pleading with you, waiting for you to speak. His words hang in the air, heavy. "You’re my first love, y/n. And that means something to me. I can’t just let it go."

The sincerity in his voice cracks your walls just a little more, and for a brief second, you want to believe him. You want to give in and let him in again. But the fear, the pain, the loss—it all rushes back. How could you trust him again after everything he’s done?

But his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much promise—are full of regret, full of a longing that makes your heart ache. And despite everything, despite the doubt that still lingers like a shadow between you, you can’t help but ask, "What are you asking of me, Rafe?"

His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m asking you to give me a chance. A real chance to prove to you that I won’t make the same mistake again. I’m asking you to trust me again, even if it’s just for a little while. To let me show you I’m not the same person who walked away."

You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. It feels like a decision that could change everything—everything you’ve worked for to protect yourself from him, from the hurt. But the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice, it pulls at something inside you. Something you thought was long buried.

"Please, y/n," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "just give me a chance."

You stand there, frozen for a moment, as Rafe’s words echo in your mind. Your heart is a battlefield, torn between the pain of the past and the ache for what could’ve been. You can’t ignore the emotions swirling inside you—the longing, the betrayal, the love that’s never really gone away.

You stare at him, your expression unreadable, as your eyes flicker between his. You’re caught in a moment of vulnerability, unsure of what to do next. But then, all the years of hurt, the anger, the love you’d buried deep inside you, rush to the surface in one overwhelming wave.

Without thinking, you reach up to him, your hand trembling as you pull his face toward yours. His breath catches as your lips meet in a kiss that’s electric, full of all the things you can’t put into words. At first, it’s tentative, a question in the way you both move, as if unsure if this is real, if this is the right thing to do. But the moment he responds, pulling you closer, you know you’re both lost in this—lost in the feelings that have always been there, buried beneath the hurt and the distance.

Rafe’s hands slide to your back, pressing you against him, and you can feel the heat of his body, the desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid to let go, like you might slip away again. His lips are soft but demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that’s been lost. Your heart races, and everything around you fades into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just the connection you once had, reigniting in a way that feels both comforting and painful all at once.

For a moment, everything is perfect. All the doubts, all the pain, fade away in the warmth of his touch, in the way his kiss deepens, as if he’s trying to pour everything he’s kept inside into you. But then, a sharp pang of reality stabs at you. This isn’t a fairytale. This isn’t a happy ending yet. Your hands push against his chest, breaking the kiss, and you take a step back, your breath ragged.

Rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with emotion. His hands are still outstretched, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets you go. His lips are swollen, his eyes searching yours for any sign that this is real, that you haven’t just pulled away because of the past.

You pull away from the kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, any hint that this might be a fleeting moment, but you find none. There’s only sincerity and longing, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. The realization hits you all at once: this is real, and it’s all he’s ever wanted, too.

Before you can even process the thoughts racing through your mind, you’re pulled back into him. His lips crash against yours once again, but this time, it’s different. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession, a promise, a desperate release of everything you both kept inside for so long. The world around you disappears as your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as if you can’t get enough of him.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and in a heartbeat, your legs are wrapped around his waist. The cool air outside disappears as the heat between you both intensifies. He presses you against the truck door, his lips still capturing yours, and you can feel the weight of his desire in every movement.

Rafe groans against your lips, his breath ragged, his hands pulling you closer as though he’s afraid you might slip away from him again. He moves with a hunger you’ve never seen before, and yet, it’s familiar, as if every kiss, every touch is a reminder of something you both once had and now desperately crave. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

You pull away, your lips swollen from the intensity, but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you gasping for air. His hands roam to your back, holding you against him as if he can’t bear the thought of letting go. The vulnerability of the moment is overwhelming, but it’s also freeing. In this moment, you don’t care about the past. You don’t care about the pain, the mistakes, or the fear. All that matters is right here, right now, with him.

"Rafe," you whisper, your voice breaking as you look up at him. “This is… too much, I—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, gentle this time, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I know. I know. But I can’t help it, y/n. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

The words hit you harder than anything else, and despite every doubt that lingers, you know this is the real Rafe, the one you fell for all those years ago. He’s here. And he’s not going anywhere.

"I still love you, Rafe. I've never fully stopped."

Rafe’s breath catches in his throat as he hears your words. His entire body goes still for a moment, as if he's trying to process what you've just said. His fingers dig into your back, pulling you even closer as though he's afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

His eyes search yours, desperate for confirmation, for a sign that you mean it, that you’re not saying it out of guilt or hurt. His heart races in his chest, the same way it always did when you were near. But this time, there’s something different in the way he looks at you—a sense of relief, of finally being seen and understood after everything that’s passed between you both.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I never fucking stopped, y/n.”

His hands cradle your face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. His gaze softens, a mix of regret and longing flooding his expression. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be what you need. I can be the man you’ve always wanted me to be.”

You lean into his touch, the weight of the words, of everything that’s been left unsaid, starting to settle in. It’s still chaos, and the reality of everything is still real and messy. But in this moment, you realize that you don’t need to have it all figured out right now. What matters is the connection between you two, the bond that’s never really broken, no matter how far apart you’ve been.

“I just want you to stay,” you say softly, your voice trembling, but steady. “No more running. No more pushing me away. Just stay, Rafe. I need you.”

Rafe’s eyes close for a moment, taking in the full depth of your words, and then he nods. A tear slips down his cheek, but it’s not one of sadness—it’s one of relief, of knowing that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance he’s been waiting for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice filled with the certainty that comes with knowing exactly what he wants. “I’ll never leave you again.”

[crazyvik97rpg]

Sebastian listened with interest when William started telling him all about his day. That work was just the usual but that he told their friends. Sebastian was the most curious about that – but apparently they took the news really well. Well, according to circumstances at least. They even sent wishes and offered their support? Awe, they were so sweet.

„Really? Aw…“, Sebastian hummed, pouting a little but more due to the fact that he was quite moved by their reactions. William kissed his hand and reassured him there was no need to worry about anything, they understood. „Tell them thank you. I‘ll do my best to be back as soon as I can“, he smiled.

„My day?“, Sebastian grinned then and also looked over at his grandma for a moment, „Well, I wasn’t too bored, no. Heh. I got a new bed neighbour actually! He’s in surgery right now. An elderly guy arrived this morning with his wife and we chatted a bit. Then Dr Cole came around…I chatted with the nurses…had more boring soup and purree for lunch. But then! Grandma showed up, that was the best surprise“, it was cute how excited Sebastian got when he babbled on and on about his day – it was kind of helpful too, kept him distracted from the discomfort. Grandma Lillian smiled too then and she squeezed his arm a little, nodded: „I heard everything from his mother just a few days ago. So I simply had to come. You know, I have my own problems and all that and getting around isn’t easy. Sebastian‘s cousin drove me here. But…well, I can only imagine how hard this is on him“, she sighed softly and looked at Sebastian again, patting his arm gently.

„But I see you’re very involved as well, I‘m glad. It’s important to have a strong support system, especially in times like these. And Sebastian is so young. It’s already hard as it is“, she noted, smiling at William appreciatively. She could see he was a very supportive, caring young man. Everyone in their closer family knew that Sebastian wasn’t always lucky when it came to love but…really, the fact that Cynthia loved William was all grandma Lillian needed to know.

„We were just about to do some crosswords, actually, before you came. I think I have some more time to stay before your cousin comes to pick me up again“, she hummed as she had a look at her wristwatch. „Leo?“, Sebastian asked but Lillian shook her head and waved her hand, „Carter. Oh, Leonhard has a new girlfriend now, he doesn’t have time for anything or anyone now“.

„As always“, Sebastian snorted, „I thought he broke up? I mean, that was a while ago now…“

„Oh yes, that was months ago. And she was such a sweet girl too. I don’t know what the problem was this time. Oh well…“, Lillian sighed and then looked over at William, showed him a smile and shrugged, „Love just comes and goes, it seems.“

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.9

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: prepare urself. next chapter may or may not be crazy. once again (the usual) spam of thank yous. all of your kind words both in replies and reblogs makes my heart sing. to those who said they want to be part of the taglist-- i reopened it! i might have missed those who recently asked to be on it so pls reply to this chapter so i can get you :( so sorry for my lack of meticulousness.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Saturday

You had to call out the following Thursday and Friday. 

The cold you manifested was wreaking havoc on your body, the constant shivering now straining your muscles and bones. You couldn’t even find comfort in your bed, as you’d sneeze and cough, or dash to the bathroom during the waves of nausea. You were grateful to not have gotten frostbite, but damn this cold bites! 

It was nice to have some space away from work, and Nanami. You deduced that this cold was inevitable, as the stress that loomed over since your confession (and second rejection). But this wasn’t fun either, as you could barely make yourself a cup of coffee while also having to answer Haibara every few minutes, who wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was bittersweet to say the least. 

As you cuddle your heating pad meant for your tummy, you begin to scroll carelessly on your phone. Although it was your day off, and you were sick, you often liked to check your work emails. You like to be extra prepared for Monday, as those were the days when you have bigger workloads to tackle. As you scrolled, you stumbled upon an email directly from Takada shacho. Before you could open it however, there was a gentle knocking at your door. 

“Coming…” you say weakly, quickly finding a mask on your bedside table. Comforting the straps around your ears, you make a slow walk towards your door. You get on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, only to back away in shock and slight embarrassment. “N-Nanami kacho? What are you… doing here?” You proceed to cough. 

“I came to check on you,” Nanami hums from behind the door. “I know you’ve been sick due to my shortcomings. I wanted to see how you were faring.” 

“A-ah, I see,” you stammer nervously. You were hoping not to see him until Monday, but luck still remains anywhere but your side. “You could have just called me as well…” 

“I felt… that it would be best to come in person,” Nanami begins shyly. The sound of plastic shuffling joins. “I, um, also brought some things to treat you. If it’s okay with you, may I please come in?” 

You go a bit pale, “um… I don’t really want to get you sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in and–” 

“I don’t care. I’d like to see you, and make sure you are well.” Nanami interrupts you with a stern tone. His words sounded non-negotiable, and you didn’t want to [fuck around and] find out if you refused his entry. Reluctantly, you unlocked your door and slowly opened it, revealing the tall man before you. 

His hair was once again messy, lazily pulled back with his fingers. He was covered in snow,  of course, but had gloves on to protect himself from potential frostbite. You look down at his two large bags he got from 7-Eleven. You move out of his way and let him place the bags down. He closes the door behind him, and begins to untie his scarf from around his neck. As he did, you offered your hands out to take it from him. 

“Let me,” you offer in a hoarse voice. 

Nanami looks down at you, “you’re sick. Thank you, but I can hang it myself. Please feel free to go back to bed.” 

“A-ah, but you’re my guest,” you insisted through weak coughs. “My mom would reprimand me if she saw the way I was hosting you right now. I haven’t even boiled tea…” 

Nanami, now just in a sweatshirt and his joggers, quickly puts on his slippers and offers his hand to you. You look up at him confused. “Come and sit down,” he coos, taking your hand and guiding you towards your living room. He gently allows you to take a seat on the couch, which is quite the relief considering you were exasperating just from answering the door. 

Through small coughs, you watch as Nanami brings his bags to the kitchen, and begins to unpack them. He silently takes out a few vegetables and cartons of broth. A pool of pill bottles also leave the bag, along with other cold suppressants. “Can I,” you start hesitantly, your index fingers looping around one another, “can I offer you a cup of coffee?” 

“No,” Nanami shot you down quickly, “I’d rather you rest than concern yourself with me. Though, the offer in your condition is very touching.” 

Your cold now felt like a fever, as your cheeks went completely hot. You looked crazy, your hair and makeup undone. Your pajamas were ornate with little ducks, and you don’t even have tea prepared. And here was this effortless, handsome man in your house, with a pot in his hands and his eyes navigating your tiny kitchen. It was an honor to see him outside of his work clothes, as it still made your heart run. 

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” Nanami asks gently. 

You sit up promptly, staring distantly towards the pot that was now full of water and preparing to boil. “I’m not a big fan of daikon in my soup,” you reply awkwardly. “A bit too strong for me.” 

Nanami looks over at you and gives you a small smile, “I would have never expected that you didn’t like daikon, Y/N.” 

“In soup, I’m not a fan,” you quickly mend the confusion, “soups are meant to be calming, not crazy.” 

“Daikon makes soup crazy?” Nanami continues, amused by your detest. 

“It’s a bit much,” You exclaim weakly. “Just me personally, I can’t deal with all that sass.” 

“Sass?” Nanami finally lets out a chuckle, “what a way to describe a vegetable you don’t like.” As he cleans the vegetables he provided, he couldn’t help but continue to smile. “So this is what you’re like outside of work,” he whispers to himself. But your ears catch his words quickly. 

You feel your cheeks burn from shyness. But as you stared at the back of Nanami’s head, you remembered all the tears you’ve shed these last 2 weeks. Your heart still hurts, even while sharing a warm conversation like this. He was still the man who you confessed to, and broke your heart twice. You look distant towards your window, seeing the snow slowly fall over the city. 

“You don’t have to cook for me, Nanami kacho,” you say quietly, “you have done enough, so thank you. I can do the rest from here.” 

Nanami purposely ignores you as he begins to chop a carrot. “What do I have to do in order to stop you from calling me kacho?” Your neck snaps back to look at him, noticing Nanami’s seriousness from his side profile. 

You drop your hands to grip the end of the couch, squeezing it to calm you down. “You’ve made it very clear what kind of relationship we have. It’s inappropriate otherwise, so from your perspective, I should proceed with calling you kacho.”

“Y/N, please.” 

“Please what?” A bit of attitude left the tip of your tongue. You jump in fear. Just because you were hurt doesn’t change the fact that Nanami is still your boss. The man that signs off your hours. ”Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to use that kind of tone. I just… think it’s best that we revert back to honorifics.” 

“I disagree,” Nanami hums from the kitchen. He begins to look through your spice pantry (which you were surprised he knew where to find it) and pulls out your pepper. “How spicy would you like your soup?” 

“You told me that you are my boss, and I am your assistant,” you repeated his words from the night before. “You want comradery but don’t see me as anything beyond your colleague.” You tighten your grip on your couch. “And...not so spicy, for the soup.” 

You were sick. Having to bring this conversation up once more was making you even sicker. 

“Y/N, I misspoke,” Nanami says firmly, closing the pot with a lid to allow the soup to simmer. He grabs a glass from your cupboard and goes over to pour water from the pitcher. Pouring the water generously, he makes his way over to you with a few of the pills he purchased. “Here, I have a few supplements you can take now. The painkillers will be for after you eat.” 

“I know how to take care of myself,” you murmur. Nanami takes a seat next to you, pouring the pills into one hand while carefully handing you the water in the other. Lowering your mask, you swallow the pills like morsels, and follow it with sips of water. “Feel free to go after this. Thank you for setting up the soup, I can take it from here.”

Nanami eyes your face, making you blush even more. You were thankful that you were sick, as the hue on your cheeks can be explained by your current health. Putting the cup down, you quickly busy yourself once more by taking the decorative blanket on the couch and covering yourself with it. As you did, a finger appears before your face. You halt, watching as Nanami begins to drag some sort of salve on your lips. His middle finger gently drags the petroleum-like substance against your bottom lip, before swiping the rest against your top lip. 

You could explode right then and there. Your nausea wave was a bit more intense, but more so from the intensity of Nanami’s gaze, and his touch against your chapped lips. Your heart was beating hard, and you couldn’t move. Like yesterday, you were frozen. His touch, despite his muscular stature, was gentle, soft. It felt like butter. 

“S-sorry,” Nanami immediately pulled his hand away. He quickly looks away from you, hints of pink at the edge of his cheekbones. “I overstepped. I’m very, very sorry Y/N.” 

“It’s fine,” you quickly spew, “just… wash your hands before you touch anything else or yourself. I would hate for you to get sick because of me.” 

“A-ah, right,” he concurs, quickly jogging to the kitchen to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he once again joins you on the couch. “I will admit, I didn’t just come here to care for you. I wanted us to… discuss more about our conversation the other night.” 

Here he goes. Opening a wound that is long but healed. “What else is there to talk about?” You say, coughing a bit to clear your throat. You felt light headed from how congested you are, especially since talking so much. And now, Nanami was forcing you to engage in a conversation that led to your feelings being hurt more. “We both expressed our feelings to one another, and came to the conclusion that our relationship should strictly stay as a coworker dynamic.” 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Nanami begins quietly. His eyes keep at your coffee table, with fingers weaving together slowly. He looks pensive, like he’s looking for the right words to say. But even within those thoughts, he was uneasy. “Hold on.” In a moment, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing himself in a black, skin tight shirt. This would be the first time you truly saw his physique, seeing as the shirt hugs into the dents and divots of his pecs and abs. The short sleeves give temptation to his muscular arms. His torso was enough to make any woman submissive. 

You look away, but still hold your ground, “if that is the case, then I’d like to apologize again for my feelings towards you. I’m working on letting them go so they no longer pose as a nuisance or discomfort for you. And if need be, I understand if you’d rather distant our work relationship, or transfer me back to Sales.” 

This is when Nanami faces you again, “Y/N, look at me.” 

His tone wasn’t aggressive nor strict, but you felt submissive to his request. You slowly turn, your eyes finding their way to his own. Hazel eyes bore into yours, and you noticed his bottom lip snug between his teeth. 

“That night when you confessed to me, I didn’t quite understand what it all meant for me,” Nanami begins quietly. He tightens his hold on his hands. “I’ve never really known what to do when people confess to me. But I was so used to not reciprocating those feelings that rejecting them was as easy as breathing.”

“You’re a little too good at it,” you let out, your heart jolting from the memory of the rejection. 

“And for that I apologize,” Nanami quickly spews, “not only for hurting your feelings, but for lying to you.” 

“Lying to me?” You felt your forehead going hot. “About what?” 

“About my feelings towards you,” Nanami’s tone hinted at a dash of embarrassment, “Admittedly, not even I knew I was lying to you until I finally gave it some thought.” 

You could only stare at him, trying to find some sense in his face. But as you stared at him, you noticed a break of conviction in his hazel eyes. His usual professional demeanor was absent, leaving you with a Nanami you’ve never met before. His confidence wavers, and before you was a red-faced, shy man. 

“Kento,” you begin, causing him to jump from his first name leaving your tongue. “I’d feel worse if you’re feigning liking me for the sake of making up with me. I told you, it is my fault for liking you.” 

“If you’re taking fault for that,” Nanami begins, his eyes diverting away from you, “then it is also your fault for making me like you back.” 

Huh? You felt hot, cold, and dizzy. His words were nauseating, and you were confident you were green in the face. Your hands and arms shake with nerves, goosebumps ornate all over your body. Before you could even utter another word, you feel yourself going faint. 

“Y/N?” Your name sounded distant. Before you knew it, your eyes flutter shut, pitch black surrounding you. 

Taglist:

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[boobav]

Viktor this season has truly inspired me. I hope you all enjoy the various drabbles :) I'll try write more here.

The first time you met Viktor, you recall, the sun was shining.

The meeting was perfectly ordinary. Not even a meeting, really, seeing as you learnt his name a week later.

With a cool breeze, you ate your lunch in silence, head held to the sun as though a flower in bloom. You closed your eyes, breathed deep. Meditative perfection.

And when you reopened them, he was there.

Half-frozen in the doorway, he gazed at you with what seemed like surprise, at the time. Later you'd learn that he was, from his own words, mesmerised.

"Professor." He'd said in polite greeting, looking away. You smiled, but he left the way he came before any conversation could commence.

The next meeting, he was the one sat outside, silently pondering something. You'd found his expression of concentration endearing beyond words. The furrow of his brows, the occasional, unconscious movement of his lips. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

The weather that afternoon, when you'd strolled over to properly introduce yourself to the man, was similarly bright. A perfect blue running across the sky. A songbird somewhere unseen, and the breeze defined by its almost supernatural ability to alleviate.

You weren't superstitious, nor did you believe in signs, an elusive, irrational concept. But with his presence offering as much warmth as the sun, with the way his eyes ran nervously from yours only to return, bound by some societal principal of politeness, with the way he tested your name on his tongue that cloudless day, you thought maybe there really was something to the concept. Some sign leading you to him.

"How about we get lunch sometime?" You hadn't exactly thought the offer out. But his smile alone was quick to convince you of the idea.

"Of course," Viktor said, "are you... free now?"

"I think I had something planned, but I seem to have forgotten all about it..."

-

For a few months, then, you re-learnt what it meant to be alive.

To meet someone so perfectly in tune with your every move seemed fantastical, seemed like a sign. You spent free weekends not hunched over a desk, stressed beyond articulation, but with Viktor. You learnt of his work, learnt of the pure brilliance that bloomed at the mere touch of his hands.

And you learnt every contour of those hands. Pressed your lips into the palms, into every scar and cut. A fleeting remedy, but one he grew unable to live without. For he, too, had to re-learn what it meant to be alive.

He felt astoundingly undeserving of what you seemed so willing to provide. More than love, but adoration. Something almost approaching worship. He felt the weakness of his own body so acutely with yours pressed against it, so terribly perfect. Whatever scar or mark you seemed to mention in distaste, he loved. He thought, maybe, that you were some kind of sign. That things would get better. That the traitor he called a body would recover or, at least, stop wilting away.

But nothing changed. Not really.

Learning of his illness wasn't a shock, because it wasn't a secret. Jayce mentioned it to you often. The real shock came on slow. Like a spider taking it's time to crawl up your spine. As the months passed, the extent of its deteriorating effect showed itself. Viktor's heart, weak against your own. The bags under his eyes darkening further, his pale skin sinking pallid.

Happiness is not something that lasts forever.

In fact, it seems to run from its owner more often than not. You think you're living in a state of euphoria, a state of perfection for so long, the way we were supposed to exist. You feel as though nothing could break this film of joy over your life, that you're somehow exempt from reality.

But you're not.

Overtime, Viktor shut himself off. He spent more and more time in the lab. He had very little to say. When you broke down, the only consolation he could offer was a quiet apology, mumbled from across the room.

You dreamt of consolation. Every night, from then on. Endless fields of restorative ideas. Endless ways to make him feel better, to be there for him even if he found the idea ludicrous.

Because why would you waste your time with him? He knows you're better off somewhere else, stretched out in the warm weather without a burden as heavy as him on your back. The pillar you were in his life, crumbled by his own hand. He deemed it necessary. Convinced himself so.

But what could you do?

You could barely comprehend his struggle. How could you even begin to ease it?

This thought process kept you from physically seeking this dream of yours. A warning sign from your mind, a psychological guard rail which, in reality, only protected you from yourself. All these flowery ideas of reconciliation, bouquets of roses and trays of baked goods in your mind, and yet, you did nothing.

The attack on the council made sure that you'd never have the chance.

Jayce had been the one to tell you. Tell you that among the victims was the dream gifted to you every night, the man you viewed as an inseparable extension of yourself. And when you visited, stared up at whatever the hexcore was doing to Viktor, you felt an unparalleled hatred.

For yourself, for your failings and shortcomings. Every time a word came out wrong. Every time a day ended in silence.

Rising tensions, blood on the city streets. Soon, you had nothing left in Piltover besides a few shattered friends.

So you left.

-

Of course, you felt that you'd never see Viktor again.

Even if somehow he survived the critical condition he lay struggling in, you convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to speak to you. Perhaps out of self preservation. Perhaps out of genuine belief.

A knock at the door was already uncommon. And, certainly, a knock that specific. Gentle, apprehensive. You stumbled out of bed with an undeniable sense of neuroticism, convincing yourself of the knocks familiarity whilst simultaneously convincing yourself of your own delusion.

But, there he was.

Wrapped in a robe, which to you appeared regal, the blue sky beyond framing his pale face, was Viktor. A songbird carried the news, then another, but your words seemed inadequate compared to theirs.

He raises a hand to cup your face, the flesh replaced with something firm, something running with a strength he himself barely comprehends.

You place a kiss on his palm.

[thetadispatcher]

"So I guess it's safe to assume anything we called mythical or supernatural back home is real here." Carl felt that would be the safest assumption based on what she'd told him so far. He felt there was a possibility not everything existed, but that list was probably shorter then what did exist.

He glanced at Bishop then back to Rook as he leaned back in his chair. "Back home it was pretty much the same as with Willow. But people did have access to some of the advanced stuff if it was beneficial to the majority of the population." He shrugged slightly, he expected not having the same technology as back home was something he'd have to get used to, so he wasn't all to surprised. "I would've preferred one guy have all the really high tech stuff, but I'm just saying that due to our experience with Carthage and the WAU." At least he could admit he was a bit biased on the subject.

"That's perfectly understandable." Carl wasn't going to get upset that she rejected his suggestion, he was still new to how interdimentional travel worked so he expected a few of his ideas to not work out.

Strasky glanced up at Rook after a moment once he felt he could safely do so without making himself look suspicious. "I kind of expected that, I feel Carl and Brandon have had enough excitement for today." He couldn't blame them as they hadn't had the time he had to adjust to thinhs, even if his time was only a few days it was more then they had.

He shifted his focus to Willow. "I have no objections." He didn't know why Bishop had to come, but he was sure Willow had a good reason and that was enough for him. He also didn't have any real reason why he'd make a fuss over it, it felt fair to him considering what the man was doing to help out the WAU's victims.

He straightened out his uniform as he got to his feet, showing he was ready to leave whenever they were.

"Eh, it gets confusing after a while." Rook chimed in before Willow could reply, "But it's easy enough. In my world, all the best tech is in the hands of the worst man to have ever existed." She motioned to Bishop, "On Willow's side it's owned by a bunch of companies and she's the only one who can deal with them."

"Your advice would be viable, if I was human." the cyborg added, "I must be very careful with who I choose to approach and I must avoid leaving any traces of my presence."

Rook watched as everybody scattered, glaring at Bishop when he got a bit too close for her liking though agent was busy pestering his staff with questions to pay attention to her. She decided to stick with Strasky, wondering why he was reacting that way.

"I guess it'll be you, me and Willow." she said, feeling that'd work as a better distraction from whatever was flustering Strasky.

"Agent Bishop, I would like to request your presence for this mission." Willow began, causing her double to glare at her, "…If there are no objections."

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: something with an orc and a female human? Something fantasy-based, maybe human owns a tavern? I'd be fine with whatever you thought worked though!

A/N: Sorry this is kind of late, life is hectic. Enjoy!

Kissing an orc

Orc x fem!reader || accidental exhibitionism, oral sex, groping

You are kneading the bread for the next day when the knock on the door startles you. “Your favorite orc is hereeeee,” your annoying naga helper sing-songs to you. You shush them in your way to the door, signaling them to stop or you’ll kill them. They chuckle and disappear to the front, a broom already on their hands. Good, at least they would stop being a little shit while they do the tavern cleaning.

You open the door and have to swallow a gasp. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him, it always amazes you how fucking beautiful he is. All giant, towering over you, with his beautiful olive skin and big tusks framing his appetizing mouth. Good goddess you’d give all your gold to be able to kiss him at least once to know how that mouth would feel against yours.

“Hi- hi,” you stutter. You chastise yourself, trying to act composed, but suddenly your skin feels too hot and your breathing is pushing your boobs a bit too forward.

“What was all that about? Am I your favorite orc? Do you know more orcs?” He looks so confused and adorable you want to pinch his cheek, but also kiss him senseless.

You look at him completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Yes?” You aren’t sure if it’s a question or an affirmative.

You take a deep breath, thinking about all the possible possibilities of what you are about to do, but you are so fucking tired. You want to know, and if it goes wrong, you can always change hunters and find a new person or monster to bring you fresh meat for your tavern every day, right? Yeah. You can probably find somebody else, but you can’t wait more time to know how do his lips taste.

You stare into his beautiful dark eyes and answer truthfully: “Of course you are my favorite orc, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months.”

“What?” He looks so surprised you want to laugh, but the nervousness in your stomach prevents you to do anything. “But, but… I asked and you didn’t… you didn’t…” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I asked you to meet me for breakfast and you said you had to work. I asked you if you wanted coffee and said you had to work.” As soon as he says that, you can remember a few other times he asked you for coffee or lunch or some snack and you always refused because you thought he did it just because he was nice, not because he was interested. Were you really that obvious?

You look at him, your face mirroring his surprise. “Oh.”

“You are just too cute for your own good, damn it.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you breathless. “We could have been doing this for a long time if you just said so,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.

Kissing an orc is even better than you imagined. His tusks frame your mouth perfectly and his lips are way softer than expected. He is perfect and you can’t even comprehend what he’s doing when he crouches and grabs your ass, pulling you up and walking inside, the deer he caught today left there, forgotten.

He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and before you know it your ass is over a table and he’s kissing your neck, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His hands are everywhere, tracing the edge of your corset, caressing your back and groping your ass over the skirt of your dress. His hands fit under the skirt and he goes up and up until his hand is over your center and you are panting, his mouth hot against your pulse point as he touches your vulnerable place.

He caresses your legs over your underpants and asks: “Can I?” His lips move against your neck when he talks and you have to suppress a tremor.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, already pulling the skirt of your dress up to your waist as he pulls down your underpants, kissing your leg along the way.

“Have somebody ever…?” He doesn’t have to say it, you know what he means. You aren’t a blushing virgin, but you never had enough trust in anyone to let them… kiss you there.

“I never… Nobody ever… Not there,” you try to explain.

He gets it instantly, kissing your mouth until your brain is far away from your worries and his dexterous fingers find your pearl, flickering it and making you bite down on his lip. He groans and you giggle against his lips, he kneels on the floor in front of you and goes for it.

You moan very loudly as inexplicably pleasure breaks through your body, making you throw your head back and arch your back in an arch that leaves your boobs about to spill over your corset. You are sure it looks sinful from his position, but when you open your eyes the only thing you see is his face still buried between your legs, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head so strongly you are worried you are going to hurt him, but his pleased sounds are good enough to make you groan again.

You cover your mouth to avoid screaming his name as his tongue does wonders around your lucky pearl, his tusks framing your pussy in a way that leaves you breathless and ready for more at the same time. It’s wonderful and marvelous and all the adjectives you can’t even comprehend as he sucks and licks your hot center, dragging all kinds of sounds out of you.

You’ve never felt that kind of pleasure, and as it starts to peak, you don’t know what to do with all of it. You grab his hair and pull, making him grunt as his fingers dig into your hips where he’s holding you still. You are messing up his braid, but you can’t care about it as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. It’s the most intense experience of your life and when the pleasure hits its peak, you have to bite down on your hand to avoid the cry that was about to leave your mouth.

He licks you through it, until your legs are trembling around his head and your pussy is pulsating in time with your heartbeat. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps milking all the pleasure out of you with such frantic need that you can’t do anything but match it. When your second orgasm hits you, the first one was still there, joining in the middle in the biggest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He kisses your pussy and your highs, not trying to make you untie your legs from around his head. His tender caresses are a contrast with the frantic devouring he just did, but it’s the best kind of contrast. You are still breathing hard and he’s still on the floor in front of you licking you clean when the door to the tavern opens with a screech.

“Dude! That’s where I make the bread!” The annoying naga screams as he opens the door just in time to see him kissing your pussy one last time.