#with his shirt slipping off and everything
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greengoblinswifey · 1 day ago
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Trust— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader
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summary— based on season 4 episode 9, slight spoilers. rafe is convinced he can help you relax, take your mind off the drama on the ship and make you trust him.
warnings— manipulation, oral, praise kink, degrading kink, bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.
Rafe looked up as you entered the small, cramped bathroom, his blue eyes narrowing before softening a bit as he registered your expression. “Come to check on me again?” he drawled, his voice low and rough after days of confinement. Despite his irritation, there was a hint of something else in his tone, something that felt almost, relieved.
“Yeah,” you replied, sighing as you slid down to sit on the floor next to him, finally giving yourself a break from the chaos upstairs. “I needed to get away from everything. JJ's out of control, everyone’s on edge, and it’s just—it's all a lot.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow, shifting a bit to get more comfortable despite his tied-up position. “Sounds like a mess,” he said, a glint in his eyes. “But not surprising. I’d be losing it, too, if I were up there. Though, you don’t seem the type to lose it.”
You exhaled, glancing away. “I don’t know, sometimes I think I'm just about at my limit. It feels like I’m the only one who, I don’t know, tries to keep it all together by being civil.”
Rafe smirked slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to, you know. Keep it together all the time,” he murmured, his voice taking on an edge. “Sometimes, you just need to let off some steam.” His voice dropped, a bit huskier. “Maybe even relax a little.” His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your pulse quicken.
You frowned, glancing at his wrists, still bound. “Rafe…”
“Come on,” he coaxed, his tone almost too smooth. “Untie me. I’m not going to hurt you.” He held your gaze with an intensity that made you falter. “Let me help you relax.”
Hesitating, you chewed on your lip. There was something, different about him right now, and you couldn’t quite pin point it. But, against your better judgment, you reached forward and undid the ropes around his wrists, slowly freeing him.
Before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you, and he pulled you in close, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was both rough and gentle, catching you completely off-guard. You melted into it, the tension you’d been carrying washing away under his touch. Your mind went blank, and you felt yourself leaning in closer, craving the connection.
“You’re so needy,” he murmured against your lips, “So naughty for letting me loose like this.”
Flustered, you pulled back slightly, breathless. “Rafe…”
He only smirked, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “It’s alright,” he whispered, holding your gaze with a soft, challenging glint. “Now that I’m out, maybe I can return the favor and help you feel a little better.”
You slowly nodded. You couldn’t deny the way he was making you feel.
Rafe’s hands moved slowly over your bare stomach, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So responsive,” he murmured, watching your breath hitch as his hands continued their slow exploration.
Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, feeling vulnerable but completely unable to pull away. Rafe’s fingers hooked under the waistband of your skirt, and with a quiet confidence, he slipped it and your thong off, leaving you feeling even more exposed. He let out a quiet chuckle, his hands never leaving your skin.
When he pulled off his own shirt, his eyes never left yours, and then he moved closer, his presence between your legs grounding you in the moment. “Trust me,” he whispered, voice low as he leaned in, and before you could fully process the warmth of his breath, he began to press soft, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from you.
“You’re so—” you managed, words slipping away as he looked up at you with that familiar smirk, his gaze unrelenting.
“So what?” he teased, “I haven’t even started.”
Your breath grew shallow, anticipation building as his hands traced along your hips, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.
His mouth attached to your clit and it sent a spark through you, his touch patient yet undeniably intent, and you couldn’t help but give in to the sensation, letting yourself relax under his steady hands. His tongue was precise, lapping up every part of your pussy that was soaked with your juices.
“Don’t hold back now,” he murmured. His constant sucking and flicking over your clit made your orgasm wash over you, leaving you completely captivated, and all you could do was let yourself melt into the moment, trusting him entirely.
“I’d say you were my good girl and you are but fuck, you’re such a slut just letting me make you cum like this, I thought you and your friends didn’t trust me?” he chuckled, sitting up til he was beside you. You buried your face into his chest, embarrassed that he was right.
“Oh that’s okay baby, don’t be embarrassed,” he laughed, “you know what would make it all better? Me doing to you what they did to me.”
Your head shot up, confusion etched across your face.
“Not like that baby, you’d be willing wouldn’t you? Would you let me tie you up and use you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked huskily.
Slowly, you nodded. You couldn’t deny his words made you throb. You’d let this man do anything to you. He smirked at your obedience and took up the rope, beginning to tie you in the same position he was before. The rope was tied firmly, but not firm enough to hurt or bruise you.
“Is that okay baby? You like being all tied up for me?”
“Y-yes Rafe,” you muttered, eyes big and full of need.
He slipped down his boxers and your eyes went wider, gasping at the size of him. He was so thick and leaking for you. You needed a taste.
“Open up that whore mouth,” he growled.
Immediately, you did what was told and he shoved his cock straight to the back of your throat making you gag.
“Breathe baby, breathe, I know you can take it, you seem like you’d be such a good cock sucker.”
You wanted to prove him right, you wanted to be exactly what he thought of you. As he slowly thrusted into your mouth, your tongue went to work, swirling over the base and the tip, getting it as sloppy as you could. He moaned deeply above you, as his thrusts grew faster, your lips suctioned around him, making the sweetest little sounds.
You would’ve played with his balls if your hands weren’t tied and so, you leaned your head down, slurping and sucking on his balls as he threw his head back and shivered.
“Fuck, I knew you could do it, I knew you were a little whore, what a fucking mouth.” He slipped back into your mouth, his hands now going to your curls as he held you down on his cock, but before he could shoot his load down your throat, he pulled out.
“I know you’d swallow every last drop of my cum like the whore you are but I’d rather your pussy swallow it,” he chucked.
Heat rose in your cheeks as you thought about him filling you up. You weren’t on any form of birth control and you knew for a fact him or anyone on the ship did not have a condom in their possession. He’d definitely get you pregnant, just like his sister was at the moment. Ironic.
“Now, I have an idea.” You looked up at him curiously then gasped as he lifted your lower body, your hands in a slight awkward position as he held you up to fuck you mid air.
“Think you can take it— oh who am I kidding, you’re going to fucking take it,” he muttered, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock up and down your pussy lips.
“Your pussy is so wet and pretty, so happy you just gave it up to me.” You both moaned in unison as his cock slowly penetrated you. In that moment you partially wished your hands weren’t tied so you could’ve placed it on his abdomen, halting him from any further movements.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began pounding into you, your tits spilling out of the skimpy top you had on. His cock was deep inside you due to the angle, the feeling making your pussy quiver.
“Who’s making you feel this good huh?” he asked, his hands squeezing your hips harshly.
“You are Rafe, you,” you cried out. Your friends had definitely heard your screams.
“Good girl, trust me now?” he chuckled, breathlessly.
“Yes Rafe, I trust you. Faster, please,” you pleaded.
His rough thrusts sped up and the sound of your sloppy pussy and your loud moans filled the bathroom, possibly alerting your friends above.
“I need to feel you cum on my cock baby, you can do it,” he urged.
He went faster and deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you to draw the orgasm out. Before long, you screamed his name, your pussy squirting all over the bathroom walls as he continued fucking you through your high, pulling everything out of you.
“You’re so fucking hot, good girl,” he cooed.
He began chasing his own orgasm, his hand wrapping around your neck and his other skillfully holding under you as his thrusts grew more sloppy.
“Clench around me baby, I’m gonna pump this sweet pussy full of my cum. Gonna get you fucking pregnant, have you carry my babies inside this sexy body.”
You couldn’t protest even if you wanted to and your walls clamped around him, milking him of every ounce of his cum as he slammed into you. His thrusts grew slower and slower and he held you with one hand, the other unbinding your hands and when he did, he held you close to him, his cock still deep inside your pussy.
You both shivered under each other’s touch, panting slowly subsiding.
You shifted off him, the feeling of his big cock slipping out of you making you wince and whimper at the loss and you sat beside him.
“You look so beautiful and relaxed,” he smirked, pushing your curls behind your ear.
“Well you were right, you could help me relax,” you giggled.
“I’m always right. I meant what I said by the way, you’re gonna carry my babies inside that sexy fucking body,” he smirked, rubbing your stomach.
Before you could respond, there was a pounding on the door, it was your best friend.
“Y/N, what’s all that noise? What’s going on in there?” Cleo called out.
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kisakis-boyfriend · 3 days ago
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Scaramouche and Kinich (separately) refusing to wear a sexy Halloween costume so you don’t let them cum until they put it on 🤫🎃
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Pairings: Scaramouche, Kinich x male reader (separately)
Warnings: Male!reader, switch/top!reader, sub/bottom!characters, teasing, denial, edging, implied crossdressing, maid outfit + blowjob (Kinich), daddy kink + power struggle (Scara), small dick Scara
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“No. Not happening.” he spat. His expression remained stern and his conviction steadfast.
This was not going to dissuade you, however. You were determined to see your sweet boyfriend in the sexy costume you (oh so lovingly) picked out (just for him).
“Why not? Where's your Halloween spirit?!” if looks could kill, then you would be shot dead where you stand as your partner glares through your very being. Guess you'll have to play dirty if you want this to happen…
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Placing your hands on the bed—caging Scaramouche in—you lean in for another kiss. He's reluctant to accept, afraid you may have some trick up your sleeve. Still, he allows you to slip your tongue past his tender lips, and he's so quick to melt into the kiss it's almost pitiful.
Your knee presses between his legs, putting pressure on his little cock, and Scaramouche instantly humps your thigh. His body reacts in the cutest ways; arching his back off of the bed, twitching his hips as he grinds his clothed dick on your leg, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt the longer this goes on.
In need of air, you pull away. “Why do you always taste so damn good? You're addicting, you know that?” Scara lets out a single proud laugh, soaking up your praise like a sponge.
“I wanna make you feel good, babe. Want to–” Scara hums as your lips brush against his throat, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “–make you see stars.”
Scaramouche chuckles, hanging onto every word that falls from your deceptive lips. He bucks into your touch when you cup a hand over his cock, rubbing the rough fabric of his pants against the sensitive gland. “Won't you let me? My one and only?”
All the anemo user can think about is your touch and honeyed words—completely ignoring the warning signals from his brain as you drown them in sweet poison. Whatever, what's important is having his hands on me and his dick where I want it.
With a sly smile, your darling spreads his legs, inviting you to pamper him like you promised.
You slide your hand into his shorts eagerly, pleasuring him exactly how he likes it — doing all of the moves that drive him wild. Within minutes, Scara's cock is engorged and weeping with precum. His thighs tense and tremble, all while you keep him on the cusp of an orgasm without actually giving it to him.
His sharp voice cuts through the air as he demands; “That's enough! I know you're just–” the moan that escapes as you focus in on his tip catches Scaramouche off guard. “shit… you're j-just teasing me! I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good?”
“And this doesn't feel good?” you retort, sending a smartass look right back at him.
A groan rumbles through his small chest. “It does, but you know what you're doing, y/n. Get to the real stuff — either put that mouth to good use, or stick it in already.”
Ouch. If you didn't have a master plan in motion, you might've done just that, just to shut him up. But you're not giving him what he needs until you get what you want.
“Hmm… no~” his eye twitches at that. You've stopped moving your hand completely, simply holding his little cock while you smirk down at him. When he attempts to move his hips himself, and thrust into your hand, you hold his hips down, darkening your expression as a warning.
“I could allow you to cum… but you have to do something for me. Are you feeling agreeable tonight, my love?”
Scaramouche scoffs when you say that affectionate term with such disrespect. A part of him knows what you're going to say next — and he ushers you to go on.
“I picked out a little somethin' somethin' for you yesterday. If you wear it for me, I'll give you everything you want for the rest of the night~”
He fucking hates how easily you tempt him into going along with your ridiculous schemes… but he can't ignore his raging hard-on and your relentless edging either. He knows damn well that, if he doesn't agree, you will edge his brain out through his cock. You will prevent him from cumming—and the only thing on his mind will become you, and only you.
The tension remains for a moment — Scaramouche swallows thickly, then growls. “Fine. Lemme see what you bought for me.”
With an excited squeal you dash over to the closet, rummaging around until you find the item in question. You grasp the clothing tightly and return to Scaramouche's side, holding it out for him to take. He examines it for a minute, unfolding the cloth until he can tell what it is–
His lavender eyes blow wide open, and he scoffs “Are you insane? Do you actually expect me to put this on?”
“No. But if you want to cum…” There is no string of curses strong enough to convey your lover's frustration with you right now. Putting this outfit on would be humiliating, embarrassing, and destroy whatever integrity the puppet has left.
Scaramouche stares at the costume, fidgeting with it between his fingers. His head is hung low as a thousand thoughts swim through his brain. It's just for a little bit. You'll put it on, try to ignore it, and let him fuck you. He said he would do whatever you say, so as long as there are no tricks to this, you're the real winner here, right?
Fuck… it's so– so lewd. Do humans really find this kind of thing attractive? Besides, it looks like it's meant for a girl… Agh, but I'm already hard and if I refuse, he's just going to torture me all night. Just… just put it on. Once it's on I hold all of the power and he'll have to obey me. He promised.
“Don't stare while I undress… pervert.”
Trying to contain the absolutely diabolical grin on your face is useless. And you can't tear your gaze away as Scaramouche removes his remaining clothing. You do at least try to keep your eyes moving, but it's so hard when he slips his shorts down and his perfectly round butt is right there, facing you! His entire body is just a few feet away—with no barriers to get in your way. His skin is smooth—practically flawless—except for his back; which is littered with circular scars from a past he technically never experienced. Yet, when he regained the memories of that past, the markings etched themselves back into his being. Thinking back to the cause of those scars, you find your thoughts drifting some place (and some time) far, far away…
“You just couldn't help yourself, huh? Hellooo? Teyvat to y/n—wake up.”
You blink rapidly, shaking your head to get those lingering thoughts out. “Uh y-yeah. Mm, you look even better than I thought you would, love. The panties were a nice addition, don't you think?” your confident attitude returns as you take in the sight of Scaramouche in the skimpy get up.
“Shut it… I can't believe I'm doing this…” the puppet whines, though his dick still stands at full attention while he complains.
His slim waist tempts you, and you can't stop yourself from grabbing it and pulling him closer. Scaramouche glares up at you, but he finds himself leaning in as your body heat seeps into his person. The tender moment is ruined when you lift his body and toss him onto the bed in one quick motion.
“Oof! Tch, in a hurry now, are we?”
“Maybe a little bit~” Perhaps it's the lack of clothing that's causing him to feel extra vulnerable, but Scaramouche finds himself squirming under your piercing gaze quickly. Your eyes burn right through him — eyeing him as if he's nothing but a piece of meat for you to tear into and devour. He doesn't entirely notice how his thighs press together to hide his most vulnerable area, not until you slide a hand between them and spread his legs wide open, that is.
“MmmMMmM… o-ok, I did my part, now you have to– aah~ Stop it–” the puppet whines as you rub your hand over his tiny cock, jumbling his thoughts. Precum has already left a stain where the tip is, and it flows through more of the thin fabric as you stroke the underside of his dick with your fingers. “you have to hold up your end of the bargain, right? mmMPH–!”
“I suppose I do. Then, tell me what you want me to do next~” your reply in a silky smooth tone. Within seconds Scaramouche is guiding your hands underneath those cheap panties, letting out an adorable gasp when your fingernails graze his sensitive cock.
“Stroke it, and don't stop unless I tell you to.” With a sultry yet mocking 'yes sir', you continue your earlier motions. Using your extensive knowledge of your partner's sexual preferences, it's only a matter of minutes before you get him wet and needy. Scaramouche has wrapped his arms around your neck, keeping the two of you tethered while his dick leaks all over his tummy. The skimpy costume is long since tainted with the scent of sex and sweat — and he hasn't even cum yet!
The puppet lets out a desperate whine, panting your next order with urgency; “Here! In here!” he guides your hand down to his wet hole, coated in his own juices that have been dribbling down his ass the whole time. You sink in up to the first knuckle and Scaramouche chokes on his moan — your other hand has remained wrapped around his little cock, just as he demanded, bringing an endless flow of pleasure to his hazy brain.
“AhHN– deeper! F-finger me more! aaAHH–!!” his body jerks as you insert your entire index finger into his ass. Scaramouche grits his teeth, humping his cock against your palm while you work his hole open.
When he feels ready enough, he tells you to stop, pulling off the soiled panties himself and demanding for you to take out your dick and fuck him with him.
“yyeEESS-! mmph~” Scaramouche groans as you slide your thick shaft inside. “Bury it deeper—deeper! mHM-MM like that~” His walls clamp down on your dick, preventing you from leaving his hot insides even if you wanted to (and you don't~ 💖). Watching your lover unravel beneath you in that slutty get-up keeps your cock rock solid as it rams his cute little hole—splitting him in two with every thrust.
Grabbing his waist a little too tightly, you control Scara's movement, preventing your dick from going more than halfway in—which earns a growl from the puppet. “–the hell are you doing? I didn't say slow down.”
“Do you want to cum?” What kind of a question is that? Of course he does! Scaramouche can feel his balls tighten as you fuck him, preparing a load bigger than you would expect someone of his size to be able to produce. His hole aches to be filled again — ready to receive your own load all in his guts.
“Yes! K-keep— hnmgh don't stop pleeease!”
Frustrated, Scaramouche claws into your forearms, while you simply hold him still and smirk down at his bratty form. “Well, you did ask nicely.” you laugh, thrusting back inside so far that you can feel your cock hit the off switch on his brain. “Gonna give me a nice big cumshot, right? All over that pretty tummy of yours?” The only response the puppet can muster is a vigorous nod and a whimper.
“Yeah? Good, good. Fuck… cum for daddy, Scara. Give daddy that fuckin' load, huh?”
Like a magic word, that was all it took to push Scaramouche over the edge — bringing him to a shuddering climax as he shouts “Yes yes yes! Please, daddy, gonna c-cumMM—!! 💙” His voice falters as he cums — shooting the warm substance onto his own pelvis while his eyes cross. That pornographic expression Scaramouche wears causes you to cum soon after, filling his tiny body with your warmth.
Though he doesn't physically have a heart, you still swear that you can hear the rapid beating in his chest as Scaramouche settles down, regaining his senses while you gently stroke his cheek.
Your body gives out, collapsing on his chest as you both pass out for an indiscernible amount of time. “Hey, pretty boy, how ya feeling?” you ask with a groggy voice, brushing a bit of hair away from his eyes.
Stretching his arms out, Scara replies “Sore, tired… but it felt nice too, I guess.” he turns his face away from you as he adds that last part, finding it embarrassing to admit such a thing. You chuckle at his sudden shyness and lean your head down to place a kiss on his cheek, then his nose when he turns his head back to glare at you weakly.
Before you get up to clean yourselves off, you keep Scaramouche pinned, not yet ready to let go as you assault his face, neck, chest, and hands with kisses.
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“Oh, but… but, my love, you would look so pretty in the clothing I chose for you.” you feign disappointment, frowning as you fake a sniffle. Kinich crosses his arms and stares at you, clearly not falling for the act.
With a huff, you drop the false sadness and straighten your stance. “Alright, Mr. No Fun, can we still have sex though?”
Only someone who understands the saurian hunter intimately would notice the spark of emotion in those gorgeous eyes—and the slight twitch of his lip before he answers you — “Yes, just stop pouting.”
You sigh in relief, closing the distance between you and your lover and cupping his cheeks as you breath “Thank you…” Kinich uncrosses his arms, placing a gloved hand on your cheek and leaning closer. The kisses start off chaste and gentle, but as you taste more and more of your lover on your lips, you feel the addiction creeping in. Gradually, the kisses become longer—deeper. Kinich allows your tongue to slip past his lips with zero resistance, and he lets a single moan out as you pull him closer.
“I jus'… needed you today.” you slur between hot kisses. “Haah… gods, I really fuckin' need you, Kinich. Lemme know if this is too much, please–” With a soft thud, Kinich falls onto your mattress. His hands snake around your body as it presses against his—pinning him down while you desperately trail kisses down his neck.
The saurian hunter makes no effort to resist, even tugging at the waist of your pants; just as impatient as you are. “No, it's… it's fine. Mm, this is nice.”
Suddenly, his clothes are too tight, and everything feels way too hot as his loving partner assaults him with affection. Groping at Kinich's chest proves to be the secret at making him melt even faster; his nipples harden under the tight fabric, making it that much easier to play with them and make your sweetheart arch his back.
Something catches his attention — pointing his gaze down a little, Kinich notices how hard you've become just from a bit of making out. Your pants struggle to contain your excitement, and your lover finds it hard to contain his own now. You notice Kinich staring, and his cheeks heat up at the humiliation of getting caught. “See something you like?” you tease.
His reply is snarky, but the look in his eyes betrays that tone. “You wish.” After that sass, you decide to tease your darling a bit.
Taking your index finger and dragging it down his chest, flicking over one of his nipples in the process, until you reach that big jacket tied around his waist. Your hand dips underneath, reaching further down until… “Ooh, so wet already? Your body can't lie, you know.”
At this, Kinich rolls his eyes, which devolves into his eyes rolling back as you rub your thumb around his slit. His cock twitches in your hand, dribbling precum down his skin. Your tone drops to something more sultry and intimidating as you question Kinich; “You do like what you see. You want to feel relief—to cum and relieve all of that pent up tension—am I right?”
He can only nod his head reluctantly, succumbing to your devious scheme without entirely realizing it. You stroke his cock once and the sickening slick noise that it makes causes Kinich to squirm under your know-it-all gaze. You pretend to think for a second, then offer, “You know, I have a solution that I think we'll both love~”
“I'm not wearing that stupid—”
“JUST hear me out;” you interject, “if you wear that pretty costume for me, I will do whatever you want, you need only give me the order. Sounds like a fair price, doesn't it?”
The gears turn in Kinich's head for a moment, before he lets out a sigh of defeat. “You'll do anything I want?”
“Anything. Your wish is my command.” you reassure.
“This must be some costume if you're willing to give me control just like that.” a faint smirk makes itself onto the saurian hunter's features.
You laugh as the image of the costume comes to mind. “See for yourself — I left it in the drawer over there, in case you changed your mind~”
Five minutes later, your beloved emerges from the corner of the room where he went to change into this silly thing. “This is what you're into? Really?”
You take that as your cue to turn around. Immediately, your eyes light up at the glorious view before you: Kinich—in all of his perfection—wearing a blasphemous version of a maid uniform. It's mostly white frills that leave nothing to the imagination, white sheer thigh highs, and a frilly headband. The costume does a wonderful job showing off all of your darling's best assets; like his arm muscles, thighs, and his ass that isn't covered at all at the back of the dress.
Kinich rolls his eyes again as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Now that he's sitting, his cock pokes up under the tiny skirt, attracting your lustful eye with ease. This does not go unnoticed. “See something you like?” he mocks.
You can only bite your lip as you nod, still staring directly at his boner as it creates a glaring shape, and a darkening spot where his cock is leaking through the frills. Kinich motions for you to come closer, leaving you to stand there in front of him while his confidence rises through the roof at your display of compliance. “Kneel.” you drop to your knees instantly, nearly drooling at the thought of what's to come next.
“Say 'aaah'.” you open your mouth obediently, and watch as Kinich flips the skirt up, revealing his twitching dick. He guides it into your wet mouth, petting your hair while you wrap your lips around his tip and begin to suck. You hum happily around his cock, adjusting to his size as the minutes pass.
Kinich notices you fidgeting restlessly, and offers “You wanna put your hands on me?” you nod and whine around his cock. “Go ahead.” he allows, placing your hands on his thighs so that you can mindlessly rub and squeeze them while you suck him off. Kinich holds the back of your head, and you let your mouth hang open so he can fuck your throat freely. You can't help gagging as he pleasures himself with your mouth, but it's not a bad feeling. You're just happy that you can have someone so amazing in this way.
Even with something filling your mouth, you're still hungry for more. You've let Kinich control the pace until now—until you wrap your arms around the backs of his thighs and hold him still while you suck him silly.
The saurian hunter can't hold in the shameless moan that comes out as he tips his head back, filling up your mouth with his load. “mmMhM! Y-yes-!” Kinich reaches behind him, grabbing the sheets in his fist as he rides out his orgasm by humping your face—all while you leave handprints on his thighs from how hard you've been holding them.
His cock pops out of your mouth, still connected by a string of cum, and you pant as air fills your lungs again. Kinich's vision is blurry, but he can faintly make out your half-lidded eyes as you look up at him, sticking out your tongue to show that you swallowed it all.
“Damn, that was pretty intense. I guess I should wear this more often if it means being rewarded like that.” he smiles, leaning back on one hand and using the other to pet your hair.
“Yeah, you should.” you reply, pushing his chest so that he falls backwards as you stand up. Now you tower over your shaky lover, scanning over his body and savoring every curve and muscle as you do.
Kinich winces when you pull him flush against you by his thighs. “What…?”
“Did you really think I would be satisfied with just that? Please, Kinich, that was only the beginning.” you tease, “There's so much more I want to do to you while you're still wearing this~”
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supernovafics · 13 hours ago
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boyfriend!steve who loves recording everything
wc: 899
a/n: been thinking about this a lot a lot and finally got around to writing it
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“and here we have my beautiful girlfriend who put this whole party together.”
you looked into the video camera for a brief second, drunkenly smiling into it before looking up at steve. “you’re having way too much fun with this thing already, birthday boy.”
“what? it’s actually a very cool gift.” you could tell steve was a little drunk too, but you didn’t think that would’ve changed how into the gift he was; the camera the kids pooled their money together to get for him. “say hi.”
“hi,” you said, smiling and looking right into the lens again, and then you playfully stuck your tongue out at it. 
“i love you,” steve said with a soft happy laugh. “so much.”
“i love you too. so, so much,” you told him and he leaned down to kiss you. 
“thank you again for doing this whole thing,” he mumbled against your lips. “best surprise ever.”
you couldn’t help but smile. “no need to thank me. you deserve it, best boyfriend ever.”
the camera was filming the wooden floor at this point, but it probably still picked up what you two were saying. 
you pulled away from steve after a second, knowing that the longer you two were wrapped up in one another, the more your friends would playfully make fun of the two of you.
“you should go film robin and nancy doing karaoke. i think that them drunkenly singing bohemian rhapsody needs to be documented.” 
steve nodded. “great idea.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
after that first night, it should’ve been obvious, but that camera became steve’s favorite thing. it almost made the new pair of nikes you’d gotten him look like the most boring gift ever, but you didn’t really mind it.  
it was always the most random moments that he wanted to record of you two. “for memories” was always his response when you asked why he wanted to record you two brushing your teeth in the morning or you two lying on the couch and watching a bad movie that he brought home from family video. 
or even in this moment when you two were cooking in the kitchen of your shared apartment.
you immediately gave him a look when you noticed him turn on the camera. “steve, you’re making it seem like we’re cooking something super elaborate. it’s just a grilled cheese.” 
“it’s still like a fun cooking show,” he said, smiling as he set the camera up on the counter, placing it on top of a stack of random containers. “what do you need, chef?”
there was no way of telling if either of you were actually in the frame— you had a feeling that at least your heads were cut off— but still, you decided to play along. he was acting too cute and adorable not to. 
“bread and cheese, chef,” you told him as you went to grab a pan from the cabinet below you. “oh, and butter too.”
“got it,” steve nodded and went over to the pantry and then the fridge, and then made a show of showing the camera all of the ingredients he grabbed. 
you couldn’t help but laugh a little as you watched him. you decided to play along further and follow suit as you did most of the actual cooking; making a point of showing the camera exactly what you were doing and even exaggeratingly explaining it too. 
and when you two were eating at your small kitchen table ten minutes later, you admitted to steve with a smile that he was right, and filming everything did make it feel like a “fun cooking show.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
and then there were the moments when you were the one to grab the camera and initiate the recording. it was seldom, but when you did do it, steve always got the happiest grin on his face. 
like, in this moment, when you were coming out of the bathroom and grabbing steve’s t-shirt that had been haphazardly tossed to the floor thirty minutes earlier and slipping it over your body. for no particular reason, other than you found yourself wanting to, you grabbed the camera off of steve’s nightstand and then slid into his lap, straddling him.
he was already smiling as you turned on the camera and the familiar red light came on when you pressed record. 
“say hi,” you told him, your own smile on your face as you pointed the camera at him. his messy hair from what you two had previously been doing was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen and you made sure the camera saw it. 
he smiled wider. “hi.”
one of his hands found your bare thigh and you let out a contented hum in response. 
“y'know, i’m surprised you haven’t asked to film us yet,” you said softly. "us doing what we just did…”
his eyes widened a bit at your shy suggestion and you smiled wider, zooming in on his expression. “is that an option?”
you stopped recording him then and reached over to set the camera back down on the nightstand. 
“maybe,” you answered, shrugging innocently. “i think it could be kinda hot.”
steve shook his head. “not just kinda. very hot.”
you leaned down to kiss him then. it was slow and languid and steve’s hands immediately went to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.  
“very hot,” you hummed in agreement. 
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buckyalpine · 6 hours ago
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Warnings: 18+ dub con, smut, Dark Bucky, breeding kinks. I want some Dark twin Bucky. Jealous twin Bucky. Manipulative, sexy, mob boss twisted Bucky. His brother James is everything good, everything wholesome, everything perfect. James had everything in life, the nicest house, a respectable job, the sweetest wife. Oh, how sweet his wife was.
Bucky couldn’t care less for the perfect reputation his brother had nor did he care for the money, he had so much more. More power. More control. The only thing his brother had that he wanted for himself was you. His brother didn't value or care for you for what you were worth, always working, focused on business, leaving you in the large house all by yourself. Bucky would have never. Not if he had you.
Loving, gentle, soft as silk.
Pure, untainted, everything he wasn't.
He had to have you.
"Babydoll"
You smiled hearing your husband enter your shared bedroom as you got out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around yourself before going to greet him. He sat at the edge of the bed with a knowing smirk, shamelessly eyeing you up and down like he always did, your cheeks heating up under his watchful stare. You loved how much he adored you. He strode over, humming at the scent of your body wash, his nose trailing up the column of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his hands wandering to the edge of your towel.
"Miss me, baby?" He pulled it off, letting it pool to the floor leaving you bare before him, picking you up and laying on on the mattress, you were so perfect, pliant, he could already smell your arousal, your nipples pebbled against the cold air begging for his warm mouth.
"moy kotenok" He purred, nipping at your earlobe, your brows knitting in confusion, he never spoke Russian to you, only his brother-
“James?” You squeak, your heart starting to beat rapidly, blood running cold. This wasn’t your husband. You tried to scramble away, cover yourself but he grabbed your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. You then noticed the dark ink that peekd beneath his shirt, his telltale silver chain slipping out and dangling above your face. Your husband only wore his wedding ring, you tried so hard, unable to move his heavy body off you.
"Bucky-Bucky get off, what are you doing-
"Taking what should be mine, kotenok, showing you what being loved by a real man is like" He crawled off you, thighs spread wide kneeling in front of you. "He doesn't know what you deserve printsessa"
He shoved your legs apart, holding them from squirming, your twitching pearl amusing him. "S'been long, hasn't it, you say you don't want me but that swollen button says otherwise, what if I-"
He spits onto your clit making you cry out, a rough calloused thumb coming down to flick it to his hearts content. Your body jolted at the sensation, it was wrong, so wrong, God it had been so fucking long...
No.
"Bucky st-stop" You hiccupped as he moved faster, he could see your slick dampening the sheets, his idiot brother didn't know what he was missing.
"Why would I do that, hm? Look at how your body responds to me, you want this. Gonna get you so pregnant, bunny” Bucky smirked, giving his thick bulge a squeeze, making a show of shamelessly palming his erection. “Y’wouldnt even know who the daddy is”
He doesn't waste a second pulling his cock out, grinning at the way your cunt welcomes him home despite your futile protests. You scratch at him between moans of pleasure, your legs wrapping around his tapered waist. He pounds into you with purpose, he wants his child in your belly, he couldn't wait to see his brother dote on you not knowing any better.
He got harder thinking about your breasts leaking with milk as you got bigger, milk to feed his baby, milk to feed him. He'd find a way.
"Gonna put my child in you printsessa, give you my baby, show you where a man puts his cum, you'll take it won't you bunny, such a good housewife"
"No-No you-you can't oh God!" Your body shudders as pleasure and guilt washes over you, clinging onto him for dear life as he fucks you through your orgasm.
"That's right, cum for me, he can't make you cum like I can, don't think I haven't heard you with him, look at you, just a slutty little mess, you smell of sex kitten"
He intends on making the biggest mess in your pussy, needing it to drip onto the sheets you sleep in. You'd stay wrapped up in his essence while it leaked out of you, his sperm exactly where it needed to be, right in your belly-
"Get ready kitten, get ready to take it, fuck-squeezing me so good, tell me you want it, I know you do, m'gonna cum so hard for you princess, just for you, all this-fuck-do you feel it, s'all for you, SHIITTT" He roared, pumping you with the stutter of his hips, the headboard slamming against the wall as he emptied himself, shamelessly moaning into your neck.
The next 9 months would be interesting.
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madamechrissy · 3 days ago
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Gojo can't stop thinking about fucking Geto's girl
MDNI- Explicit Yandere Gojo jerks off thinking about you, Geto's girlfriend, yandere Suguru decides he'll share you once. Warnings: (yandere Geto and Gojo vibes, oral sex -f recieving, weed smoking, them being slutty lmao)
Part One Part Two
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Part Three
Suguru Geto is inhaling a joint, blowing the smoke out as Satoru hungrily devours you with his azure gaze, you're now just in a lacy black bra and panties, he drinks in every bit of your curves, your lines, your skin. Fuck you're perfect and Suguru just gets to have you, all to himself!? That's just not going to work, he'll have you see by the time he's done with you.
How many nights has he imagined being between your thighs?
Suguru hands you the joint now, and you take it carefully, inhaling lightly looking at Satoru then. "Blow it in his mouth, Princess."
You look a little shy, aren't you cute? You nervously take another hit, stepping up to him, and he leans down, cupping the back of your neck, your lips meeting. And when your lips met in that car, it took everything for Satoru not to devour you then, he's sure by the end of this Suguru may kill him.
Worth it though.
You're blowing weed smoke into his mouth, and he's sucking it down his throat, feeling it warm and foggy, expanding into his lungs. He leans back, exhaling, and you exhale too, before running your hands on his dress shirt, slowly. He notices your own gaze drinking him in, your beautiful eyes dilating from the hit, from desire, you're licking your lip, tempting him to no end.
"So, we doing a threesome or you just letting me fuck her?" Satoru asks, and Suguru chuckles again, taking the joint back and inhaling deep, coming to stand behind you, kissing down your neck, down your shoulder. Satoru pictures his lips there, his lips everywhere, stepping in front of you, pressing you between them both.
"How about you fuck her, I'll tell you what she likes, then we'll do one if you can make her cum enough." Suguru brushes your hair back now, exposing your delicate collar bone, more of your pretty breasts, Satoru is throbbing now.
He smirks. "If I can? You challenging me, Sugu?"
"Maybe I am." He says with a glint in his eyes, and now Satoru is trailing a hand down your cheek, tilting your chin up, sliding his other across the side of your breast, making you cry out so sexy. He watches your nipples perk up in your bra.
"I'll make her cum so much she'll be crying." Satoru says then, and your breath catches at his tone, Suguru's big hands are trailing down your body, down your back, pressing into the dimples above your ass, making your breath catch.
"She's pretty when she cries." Suguru whispers, putting his joint out now, unsnapping your bra then, letting it fall to the floor, for Satoru's hungry azure gaze to drink you in, his snowy lashes lowering, full lips parted.
"Oh fuck, even more perfect in person." Satoru's gripping your breasts, as you're pressed between both of them, the familiar hands of Suguru on your waist, the new hands of Satoru squishing your breasts now. You cry out, head falling to the side for Suguru's kisses, then Satoru is kissing you once more, devouring your lips.
"Feel how wet she is, Satoru." Suguru says, and you know then they've done this before, they bounce off each other like a yin and yang, Suguru is running circles on your clit, the damp panties clinging to your pussy lips. You're shifting, heart pounding in your ears. "Want Satoru to touch you, princess?"
You nod weakly.
"Use your words." They say, simultaneously, your moth drops open, while Satoru is slipping your panties down his thighs.
"You two are ridiculous. Mmm!" Suguru is rubbing circles on your clit, Satoru has slid a finger in your soppy entrance. You're clinging to Satoru's strong arms, leaning back on Suguru's strong body.
"Is she talking shit, Sugu?" Satoru huffs, as you weakly whine out, he's fucking into you so good with that long finger. "Fuck, you're so wet baby."
"Stupid wet. Slutty little pussy." Suguru huffs those words now, and they do nothing but make you wetter.
"You're both slutty." You whisper, earning their deep chuckles, both sets of hands all over every inch of you they can touch, big hands taking over your waist, your breasts, while their other hands focus on your pussy. It's as if they telepathically know where to press, where to push, to make you a dripping mess. "Fuck."
"Lemme taste her."
"You'll get addicted." Suguru warns, Satoru slides his fingers out, sucking you off him now, he moans as his cheeks hollow, Suguru shoves his two fingers in now, and you're gushing down them.
"Oh my fuck... Let me eat her out." He whispers, mad look in his eyes now, so intense it's difficult to look at, they're both so all over you it's hard to breathe, their scents mixing with the sweet arousal in the room.
"Come on, Princess. Be a good girl for him?" You nod shyly now, how can you not be a little shy when your gorgeous boyfriend and his gorgeous best friend want to share you. Suguru sits down on the couch now, re lighting up his joint, as Satoru comes to spread your thighs, and he hands it to Satoru with a smirk.
"You're not really gonna blow smoke on it!" You say with wide eyes, and they laugh at you again, like you're their little toy.
"Just sit back, pretty." Satoru says, Suguru has your thighs held up, wrapping an arm around your waist and gripping a breast, Satoru takes a deep hit, sucking up thick smoke, then he's holding your puffy lips apart, blowing that smoke on your pussy, you gasp at the insane sensations, shaking your thighs, cumming just from that, and Satoru moans as he watches you. "Fuck you're pretty."
"Beautiful, isn't she." Suguru agrees, taking the joint back, another hit in his lungs, he grips your chin and blows in your mouth, you suck in the hit, making you lightheaded and fuzzy, then Satoru Gojo's flicking his wet tongue on your clit.
"Mmm!" You cry out as Suguru's sliding his tongue in and out of your mouth, pinching your nipple, and Satoru's lavishing your little clit, which twitches under the caress. Suguru turns your face gently, one of your hands are gripping Satoru's silky white hair, the other clutching Suguru's thigh.
"Look how much he loves your pussy, hmm?" Suguru says, his words tickling your ear, you're soaking Satoru's pretty face, he is looking at you with those insane eyes, lapping you up, until you're about to cum again, your pussy drooling all over. He's drinking you up, his big hands pressing into your hips, holding you there. Your head falls back, eyes fluttering shit, feeling so good you can't take it.
"Oh my... f-fuck!" You scream out, cumming all over Satoru again, pussy clenching around nothing, arousal dripping down Suguru's thighs and Satoru's chin. He peeks up at you, smirking, his chin covered in you, licking his lips as he stares at you from between your thighs.
"I think she likes you, Satoru, even if you're a psycho." Suguru says, kissing down your neck, biting hard, causing pain to prick you, but it only enhances how good you fucking feel, letting out a hoarse moan.
"Suguru, you act as if you didn't stalk her on IG first." You blink a bit, looking at Suguru, who's glaring.
"Fuck you, Satoru. No more. My turn." They switch places, now Satoru is behind you, holding your thighs up, hand wrapping your throat. "You can't choke her if she doesn't want."
"Wait, you both stalk me!?" You demand, they just laugh softly, then Suguru's tongue ring is hitting your clit, and Satoru's whispering in your ear, his long fingers pressing against your throat.
"Just sit here and be pretty. Pretty neck, want me to choke you?" He asks, you want to be affronted, want to tell him he's a dick, and Suguru's flicking his tongue on your clit again, violet eyes glittering. But you can't stand it, you feel too fucking good, so you just nod weakly, and Satoru moans softly. "Good Girl, we're gonna have so much fun with you."
Your heart is pounding in your ears when Satoru's hand tightens on your throat, and Suguru's fingers slip in you, you wonder what you're in for.
Comment for pt 4 aha, lmk if you wanna get tagged!
Taglist: @kakashixhatakesxwhore @sweetthingssourpeople @sylussss7 @teacupwaifu @nanasukii28 @haruhatake @bunheadusa @inthedarkshadows000 @cybernutbasement @aldebrana @queenkrul @megamumi @morikasan @melancholyyme @victoria1676 @seeing-stars-alt @73923 @misshat
Full Gojo fics of mine: Cruel Duke Gojo story here - Sweet Lawyer Gojo here -Psycho Yandere Gojo here - Cocky CEO Gojo here - Gojo Drabbles
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heartfullofleeches · 2 days ago
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Drabble ft Thembo Darling mistaking one of Aspen [Housewife Yan]'s night slips for a tank top. (GN Reader, but they are described as having big naturtals and slightly implied to be taller than Aspen. Reader's chest is referred to as tits once or twice. Slightly suggestive.)
-
Wedded and residing in the same home as your spouse for several odd years, misplacement of your separate possessions as individuals is a one of numerous staples tied to married life. Your toothbrush in the slot where his would normally be. Leaving home smelling of lavender and honey instead of your regular body soap. Taking out the trash in pink slippers due to your own being nowhere in sight.
It's never been a point of issue to either of you. As a matter of fact, your wife seems delighted to find you at the breakfast table sipping from his favorite mug.
Groggy and drained of energy by the steam of a nice, hot shower before bed, you stumble into the bedroom as the click of the bathroom door muffles the sound of running water. Your wife enjoyed taking his time when he had it to spare, but unfortunately you were too exhausted to stay with him longer.
Pawing through the darkness, your fingers lace around the chilled knob of the top dresser drawer where you normally kept your nightwear. The insistence of your wife urging you to join him lead to you forgetting to grab a shirt for yourself. Losing your battle with the beast known as fatigue, you grab the closet one - throwing it over head as you switch trajectory for the bed.
"Something feels.....off."
As the fabric petals around you, you immediately notices something strange about the garment both in texture and the form at which it shapes to your frame. At first feel, you chalked the silk like touch of the shirt as some effect of the new laundry detergent Aspen picked up the other day. For a split moment, you pondered if you even put on anything to begin with - the material light and breathable like warm spring air. The familiar bind of your tank tops makes an appearance as the shirt rides the curve of your ample chest, biting the skin as you huff in frustration.
"Did it shrink in the wash?? Didn't he just buy these for me?"
Fiddling with oddly thin straps, your tits squish through the top of the shirt as you pull its hem in tandem. Your nipples pucker at the iciness cupping your chest as the fabric adjusts to the warmth of hot-bloodded body. Your teeth chatter as cool air blows over your bare stomach - the shirt barely having enough material to cover your navel.
"This thing totally shrunk! And it's brand new too...."
Slumped in defeat, cherubic humming echoes from behind the bathroom door - crescendoing as the handle turns and a figure shrouded in fog steps out. Aspen hangs his towel on the shower rack drilled to the backside of the door, facing away from you as he questions-
"Is everything alright, my love? Could've sworn i heard you saying something a moment ago."
"I think my tank top shrunk in the wash...."
"What?!" Aspen spins on his heels, expression flared in shock and surpise at your declaration. "But I just bought those for you! First thing tomorrow, we're marching down to that store to get you clothes that can survive more than one wash."
"I know." You whine, plopping down on the bed center of the brilliance still bleeding through the bathroom door. Aspen's jaws fall slack as he stares at you, but the source of his disbelief no longer regards the alleged faulty tank top.
"Darling?"
"You didn't even need to buy me new ones, but it was sweet of you to do anyway."
"Darling."
"And look what happened. Having to return gifts is the worst!"
"Darling!"
"Huh?!?" You snap to attention as your wife shouts, the fat of your well endowed bust nearly slipping over the low cut of your attire as you jump from the fright of if all. Breath violently yanked from his person, Aspen stammers for the proper words to say as he fans himself.
"Good heavens, if there are higher powers above, please give me strength." Aspen mutters feverishly to himself - regaining his prim and proper composure as he clasps his hands together; nails digging into his skin to remind him of self control.
"Dearest. My sweet angel, my love of loves - you are not wearing one of your shirts. You are wearing one of my slips."
Oh.
Ohhhh.
That explains- so much. More specifically the spilts at the sides and what you now recognize as frilly lace stitched around the hems.
"Oh, no. I'm stretching it all out, aren't I? Here, I'll try to get it off before I completely ruin it."
"NO!" Aspen's hands shoot forward as if you're inches from placing your hand on a hot stove. He clears his throat, rounding the bed to where you sat.
"Ruined is a rather bold claim, wouldnt you say? You already have it on, so there's no point in taking it off. Besides, I have plenty more you can stretch out some other day. It's getting late. Why don't we lie down?"
"I guess you're right..."
Sighing, you roll onto your backside as Aspen crawls over to his side of the mattress to join you. Elastic expanding to the fullest of its limits, your nipples peak out the sidelines of the slip as you lay there none the wiser.
Aspen shoves his knuckles between his teeth to stop himself from screaming.
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cuntdevil · 3 days ago
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EVERYTHING I AM (IT BELONGS TO YOU) • NANAMI KENTO
wiki statistics _ 783 words & suggestive content !
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Sometimes you heavily pained him. Pulling away from his touch and denying him of what’s rightfully his. You. 
He hates to say it like that, but isn’t it so? You are his, and him you? Four trifling years in office and four more to come. Five years hiding what the two of you are, and perhaps the rest of his life with you. Why did you continue to push him away? All those nights, all those times he held you naked in his arms. You told him you loved him. What are you so afraid of? "Every fragment of my being is in your possession, and you wish to throw it away because of your fears? Look who's the coward now!"
"Don't call me a coward!" you retorted, voice raising as your heels clicked against the tile, stomping through the office. You spin on your heel, eyes lowering as you point at you. “Don’t you dare call me a coward when I’m looking out for your best interests!”
"If you were really looking out for my best interests, then you’d know it’s you!” His voice gets deeper when he shouts, booming across the room. You’ve gotten so accustomed to it that you no longer flinch. “If you really care, you know I'd resign as president right now. We'll finally have everything we've ever desired."
"Everything you've ever desired," you correct him, turning your back on him. Standing at his desk, you reach for a pile of documents stacked. You needed something to occupy yourself, not wanting to look him in the eye. 
"Are you saying you don't want me?" his voice lowers, rumbling against his chest as it grows raspy. You can feel him behind you, his body heat bouncing off his chest. His arms snaking around you, pulling you close to him as his lips ghost against the shell of your ear. His breath comforts you as you feel shame in the way you melt into him. 
You breathe, eyes shutting. "No—"
"It sounds like it," he whispers, thumb rubbing circles underneath your buttoned-up blouse, riding up from under your dress pants. You and him both know that he’s won this game this time around. His head dips into the crevice of your neck, blonde tufts of hair tickling your skin as he plants a chaste kiss against you. 
"Stop putting words in my mouth," your voice gets airy as his hands get more daring. 
"I'm not,” he responds. “I'm interpreting their meaning. Say it."
"Say what?" 
"Say you don't want me."
"Kento—" Finally, you gain the strength to pull away from his touch, hands slipping out from under your shirt, already missing the loss on how they cupped your breasts.
"Say it," he repeats, getting more stern with you. He wants to prove a point. He knows you won’t say it. 
"Stop your bullshit," you sneer when he tries reaching for you again, pushing away his hand.
"Say it!" he barks, making you take a step back. And when you don’t say anything. He smirks, a snort leaving him. "What are you so afraid of, huh?"
He takes slow, menacing steps. Your back hitting the desk hard as he traps you. “You want me—” his head dipping to ghost your lips. Both his and your eyes in search of each other’s lips. “—I know you do. Just give in.”
"You’re throwing away everything you've worked for,” you say, just barely above a whisper. You shake your head, trying to deter Nanami from making the worst decision ever. “Everything I worked for."
"And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but…" Nanami shrugs. Being the center of the country, it had its perks, but of the four years in office, he’s come to dread it more than anything. He wanted to call it quits. "This is a lousy job."
You don’t say anything, leaving Nanami to lean down. His lips peppering kisses on the corner of yours before capturing them with a deep intensity. "I love you."
"I love you, too.” It’s as though your lips move automatically, but you don’t regret it. Your chest rises and falls from the kiss, eyes dilating as you’re already drunk off of his lips. You love him. You do love him. 
"Repeat that for me," he whispers, the words never failing to make his knees buckle. 
"You've been wanting me to say a lot of stuff for you today," you chuckle, trying to make a joke out of his sincerity. 
"____.” He pulls away, looking into your eyes sternly. "Just tell me how much you love me.""I love you, Nanami,” you repeat with the fervor needed, saying it with pure genuinity. “I love you a lot."
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( author's note. ) if y'all have watched scandal or have seen the tik toks, you know what i was aiming at.
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zyafics-recs · 1 day ago
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reblogging comment review from @zyafics
i lied (warning i don't think my commentary r that good) ⬇️
JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope.
that’s his bf fr
But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.
he’s just a baby boy
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ALT
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The barriers between you two seemed insurmountable.
climb that wall
Luke laughed, a deranged sound, and lunged. You swung the skillet with all your might. It connected with his shoulder, the impact reverberating up your arm
this scene is supposed to be serious but i imagined tommy and jerry where jerrry hit jerry with a pan or smth and the thing bounces off of him wobbly 😭😭ok back to reading (i wanna let u know the lengths i went through to make this gif bc i literally downloaded it and made it myself)
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(i wanna let u know the lengths i went through to make this gif bc i literally downloaded it and made it myself)
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing down, the silence deafening except for your labored breathing.
this is claustrophobic
"Sit here," Rafe said, motioning to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit. He kneeled in front of you again, this time with a different purpose. "Lemme see your hands."
MY BABY TAKING CARE OF MY OTHER BABY
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the barrier you'd built around your heart. “Why—Why did you pick up the phone?”“You know why.”
can we please just fuck and make up
Without a word, he slipped off his shoes
this took me out white boy why do u have shoes in the HOUSEEEEE
“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”
rafe is such an action man we love 💕
"I owe you everything," he murmured.
screeching under my pillow 🦅
“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”
the way ur dialogue is like a movie SOMEONE GET GIGI INTO THE WRITERS ROOM STAT
Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.
SEXYYY TIMEEE 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻 i am so unserious
“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”
say it
"That night was different. We were different."
oh fuck off being a gentleman pls ✋🏼🤨
His voice trailed off, but his hands spoke for him, tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers through you. His touch was reverent as if he was rediscovering you, piece by piece.
why is this so beautiful
"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, his shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."
ohmygod 🙈 i feel like i am interrupting something
"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”
BABIES ALL OF THEM !!!!!!!!!!!
Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."
put it in already 🙄 (kidding i love this)
"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.
ur making me blush
“Fuck, yes,” he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening. “You feel amazing.”
RAFE WHIMPERING I WONNN
"I can't believe you're real."
i swear to god if this turns out to be a dream i’m booking the next flight to ur city n murdering u in ur sleep (real)
final thoughts — this is so tender and sweet, i love this. i think i can offer no true words to have much i appreciate this series (also because i used it all up in the last review) but yes, like i said. compliments to the chefs for her dialogue and beautiful imagery. additionally, i wanna let u know that u give me so much inspiration. whenever i finish one of ur work, i'm like "i gotta get my ass up and work" because i always feel so motivated to write whenever i read ur stuff. <3 truly, t💘💘hank u for everything, i'm so excited (and sad... and horny...?) to see them come to a delightful end next part
THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - six
request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"
WARNINGS: domestic violence; blood; injuries; angst; smut;
word count: 7.6k
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You saw it on the news before Sarah told you.
Ward was officially in police custody.
They were calling it the biggest crime operation in years, plastering his face on every corner of every newspaper in the country. You saw it first on your busted-up TV, the morning news anchor's serious tone making the gravity of the situation clear before Sarah had a chance to call.
He was stopped.
The man who caused so much pain and chaos to everyone you cared about was finally behind bars.
But your relief came with a bit of caution.
This was just the beginning. There was still a trial to face, and you knew how slippery Ward could be. He had enough money to buy whoever he wanted, and the justice system wasn’t always as just as you hoped. Trials could take months, even years before he was sentenced.
JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope. You hadn’t seen him this ecstatic in years, the hallways of your home echoing with “let’s fucking go, baby!” as he made his way upstairs.
You were content.
Was there really anything to be happy about?
Sure, a bad guy was getting what he deserved, but the destruction he left behind was still very much there.
Months ago, when the police contacted you again, you had refused to testify. What Ward did to you was terrifying, but what he did to Sarah, John B, and Rafe? They were the true witnesses to his evil. You barely got a taste of his wrath. You were lucky. You wanted to be there, of course. Every person Ward hurt deserved all the support they could get. But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.
Rafe.
You hadn’t seen him since that day he dropped by, and it felt like he vanished into thin air. You didn’t see him around town, not at the beach, and he never stopped by your job. You started wondering if he’d been cooped up in that awful house all this time.
You couldn’t shake this feeling of worry, knowing he was stuck in the shadow of his dad’s mess.
Did he feel abandoned by you?
The thought of him, alone in that house, haunted you. You knew you should’ve reached out, found him as the town buzzed with the details of Ward’s arrest. More stories came out, each more horrifying than the last.
You almost gave in.
One evening, you found yourself riding past the Cameron estate, its looming structure a dark silhouette against the fading light. You almost went in, stopping by the gigantic gate, but then you saw movement inside and sped away on your bike.
You couldn’t do it. 
The barriers between you two seemed insurmountable.
As you walked home from your shift as a lifeguard at the beach, the sun setting behind you cast long shadows on the sand. The rhythmic crashing of the waves had always been your favorite soundtrack. You’ve spent most of your life inside the water, it was in your nature. 
Growing up, surf and swimming were your outlets to get away from your violent father and deadbeat mother. The ocean was your sanctuary, a place where you could forget the shouting matches, the broken furniture, and the empty bottles scattered around the house. When you were out there riding the waves or just floating on your back, everything else melted away. The water had a way of washing off the grime of your home life, even if just temporarily.
Unfortunately, once you set your feet on the sand and walked home, that feeling always vanished.
Tonight, as you made your way home, the familiar dread began to creep in. Both your parents were long gone, but the sense of dread would never leave you, always attached to that stupid house.
Even though the yelling had stopped, and the bottles were gone, the walls seemed to hold on to the echoes of your past. The creaky floorboards, the dim lighting, the chipped paint—You hated it.
You had considered moving out many times, but something always held you back. JJ. Money.
When you got there, the air felt unusually still.
JJ’s truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot, which was strange, but not entirely unheard of. What really unsettled you were the closed windows. You always left them open to let the ocean breeze in, but now they were all shut tight.
You called out your brother’s name, hoping to hear his usual welcoming shout, but there was only silence. You shrugged it off, thinking he was probably out on the boat or lost in his video games.
You dropped your bag by the door and walked further inside.
"JJ?" You called again.
As you stepped into the living room, the sight of your father, Luke, froze you in place. 
He seemed worse than you remembered—disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and reeking of alcohol.
Luke had been gone for a year, no contact, nothing. But the memories of his drunken rages and the bruises he left behind were still fresh. He was supposed to be miles away. JJ made sure of that, paying him off and helping him get off the island.
Seeing him was the last thing you were expecting.
"You shouldn’t be here,” You warned him, trying to mask the fear rising in your chest.
He laughed, a hollow, chilling sound. "I’m just here to see my kids. Is that so wrong?”
Liar.
You knew better than to trust him. “You need to leave. Now.”
His expression darkened, the smirk fading. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Watch me. Out.”
He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I just need a little loan.”
You tightened your grip on the edge of the doorframe, “No. You need to go, for good.”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might listen. But then he took a step closer, and you could smell the stale alcohol on his breath.
“I’m not leaving without what I came for.”
“I don’t care,” You snapped, no longer the scared girl he was used to, “Get your ass out of my house before I call the cops.”
“This is my house!” He all but screamed, the veins in his neck visible.
“Not anymore,” Your heart pounded in your chest, and every fiber of your being screamed for JJ, wishing he was here, “I’m not afraid of you,” you said, more to convince yourself than him.
He took another step forward, his face twisted in anger. “You always were a stubborn little brat.”
“And you’re a piece of shit.”
He lunged. 
You barely dodged his grasp, stumbling back into the living room.
“Stay away from me!” you shouted, desperately looking for something to defend yourself with. 
Luke laughed, a dark, hollow sound, and came at you again. This time, he grabbed your arm, his grip painfully tight. You barely had time to react, instinctively raising your arms to block his advance. 
“You little bitch,” he snarled, pushing you against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you fought to stay focused. You couldn’t let him win, not again.
“You’re going to give me what I want,” he hissed, his breath hot and foul on your face.
“No, I’m not,” you spat back, summoning every ounce of courage you had.
With your free hand, you grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it at him. The base connected with his head, and he stumbled back, cursing.
“Bitch!” he roared, holding his head. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but the sight only seemed to enrage him further.
He charged at you, knocking the lamp from your hands and pinning you to the floor.
You were panicking, resorting to kicking and thrashing, trying to throw him off. “Get off me!” you screamed, clawing at his face.
He slapped you hard, the force of the blow making your vision blur. “You think you can fight me?” he snarled, his hands wrapping around your throat.
Gasping for air, you felt the desperation claw its way out. You’d been here too many times. Your hand groped blindly on the floor, finding a heavy candlestick. Your mom’s candlestick. With the last of your strength, you brought it down on his head.
Luke’s grip loosened, and he slumped to the side, groaning. You scrambled to your feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
He tried to get up, but you struck him again, this time with all your strength. The candlestick connected with a sickening thud, and your father collapsed, blood pooling around his head.
You stood over him, panting, the weight of what you’d done sinking in.
But then, with a guttural growl, he stirred and reached for your ankle. You staggered back, your heart hammering. 
“Stay down goddamit!” you shouted, raising the candlestick again.
He pushed himself up, eyes wild with rage. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he spat, lunging once more.
This time, you were ready.
As he reached for you, you twisted to the side, bringing your knee up sharply into his stomach. He grunted in pain, doubling over, and you seized the opportunity to land a sharp elbow to his nose. The crack was satisfying, but brief; he roared and grabbed at you blindly.
You ducked under his arm, grabbing a chair and shoving it between you. Luke, half-blind with fury, kicked the chair aside, but it gave you enough time to reach the kitchen. You grabbed the first thing you could find—a cast-iron skillet.
He stumbled into the kitchen after you, a trickle of blood from his nose mingling with the sweat and grime on his face.
“You just had to put up a fight, huh? Just like her.” he snarled.
“Stay back,” you warned, brandishing the skillet, “I’ll fucking do it.”
Luke laughed, a deranged sound, and lunged. You swung the skillet with all your might. It connected with his shoulder, the impact reverberating up your arm. He staggered, and you swung again, aiming for his head. The skillet hit with his temple, the sound echoing through the room and he collapsed, finally unmoving.
Oh fuck.
For a moment, the house was deathly silent.
You dropped the skillet, your hands trembling.
Kneeling down, you checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief and horror flooded through you simultaneously.  You almost killed him. There was so much blood. It stained the old carpet, the candlestick, your hands.
You backed away, your mind racing. 
What if he died? What if you’d killed him? Oh god, oh god. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You just wanted him gone, out of your life for good.
With trembling fingers, you picked up your phone, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on your shoulders. Your heart raced with adrenaline and fear, each breath feeling labored as you scrolled through your contacts. You needed help, someone who could make sense of the chaos now consuming your life.
The screen lit up with familiar names, but your vision was blurred with tears.
Without fully realizing it, your finger landed on a contact you hadn’t called ever before. The phone rang, and you kept an eye on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. It rang for only ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
“Maybank?”
“Rafe?” You gasped out, your voice breaking as you clutched the phone to your ear.
There was a brief pause, and then his voice came through, “Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?”
But you couldn't speak.
Hearing his voice after all this time, after everything that had happened, it was too much.
The fear, the relief, the chaos, all of it came crashing down, and your breath hitched.
You couldn’t think.
“Hey! Are you there? Talk to me!” Rafe's voice grew more urgent.
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing down, the silence deafening except for your labored breathing.
“Where are you?!”
You focused on his words, trying to match your breath to his timbre.
In. Out. In. Out.
It helped, if only a little. The shaking in your hands lessened, but the fear never eased.
“I think... I think I killed my dad.”
You looked at the bloodstained carpet, the unconscious body of your father still lying there, and the horror of it all washed over you again. 
“Are you home? Are you safe?”
You glanced around the living room, the familiar space now a scene of violence.
“I’m home. JJ isn’t here. I-I don’t know where he is.”
“I’m coming,” Rafe said firmly. “Stay there. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Rafe—” You began, but he cut you off.
“I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay?”
The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself staring at the door, willing Rafe to appear.
What were you going to do? How were you going to live with yourself if Luke died? This wasn’t you.
You didn’t hurt people. You just wanted a little bit of peace in your life, some quiet. Why did things never work out the way you wanted them to?
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and there he was.
“Maybank?”
He called out for you as he stepped inside.
Seconds later, he was standing in front of you, scanning the room, analyzing the scene before him. He rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. 
“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he guided you away from the scene, his eyes lingering briefly on your father’s motionless figure.
“What happened?” He asked softly, leading you to sit on the couch. 
“He just showed up out of nowhere. He wanted money. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He got violent, and I... “
“It’s okay.”
His warmth helped.
But you still felt the overwhelming weight guilt eating you alive. The blood on your hands—it all felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.
“Have you called 911?”
You shook your head, lips trembling as you tried not to cry.
“Do you want me to?”
The thought of police cars and paramedics filling the house, made your stomach churn. The fear of what might happen if Luke woke up, or if he didn't, paralyzed you. It took you a second to realize he already had his phone out, pressed to his ear.
"I need an ambulance.”
He stayed on the line with the dispatcher, giving them your address and the details. Your ears were ringing, unable to make out exactly what he was saying. 
"They're on their way," he reassured softly. "It’s gonna be okay."
You nodded weakly, grappling with the aftermath. Rafe stayed close, seated next to you.
"They'll take him to the hospital," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll get the help he needs."
"I... I didn't mean to..." you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.
Rafe’s hands griped your own, despite the blood coating it, "I know.”
The minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You just wanted it to be over.
When the paramedics finally arrived, Rafe guided them to Luke's unconscious form while you sat numbly on the couch. They immediately went to work, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport. Police officers soon followed, asking questions, and taking statements. Rafe handled most of the interaction, shielding you from the brunt of their inquiries. You watched in stunned silence as they worked.
He stayed close by, offering quiet reassurances and answering the paramedics’ questions.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally moved Luke onto a stretcher and carried him out of the house. Rafe followed them to the door, speaking briefly with one of the paramedics before they loaded Luke into the ambulance and drove away.
He kneeled in front of you, “You can’t say here, okay? They called JJ, he’s on the mainland, but he’ll take the first ferry down here tomorrow.”
You nodded weakly, your body feeling as if it had been drained of all energy.
"Come on," Rafe urged, helping you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here."
He guided you out of the house and into his truck, the engine already running. The drive was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you.
Rafe reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You slumped back in the plush seat, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to look at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
You didn't even register where you were headed until the truck pulled to a stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were at Rafe’s place.
Tanneyhill.
It felt odd, being there after so long, and under such circumstances. He helped you out of the truck, guiding you inside with a protective arm around your shoulders. 
"Sit down," he said gently, leading you to the living room. "I'll get you some water."
You sank into the expensive couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. It was weird sitting in Rafe’s home after everything that had happened.
He returned quickly with a glass of water, pressing it into your trembling hands.
"Drink," he instructed, sitting beside you.
You took a small sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. Rafe watched you closely, concern etched across his features.
"You need to rest," he said. "I’ll be right here."
"But I—"
"You need to rest," he repeated firmly, but not unkindly. "We can talk more in the morning.”
There was a part of you that wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you didn’t need his help. You’d done this for years, alone.
And yet, here he was, offering you help. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe you just missed him, but for once in your life, you didn’t fight him. 
You nodded, letting him take you upstairs.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, noticing the blood still on your skin and clothes. "You can’t go to bed like this."
At this point, you were too tired to speak, simply following his instructions as he led you inside, guiding you to the bathroom.
"Here," he said, turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature. "Take your time. I'll leave some clean clothes for you right outside the door."
You nodded gratefully, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind you.
The sound of the water running was comforting, a small sense of normalcy. You stripped off your clothes, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled your shorts off.
The sight of the dried blood on your hands and shirt made you want to burst into tears, again.
Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water cascade over you, washing away the grime and blood. The heat soothed your tense muscles, and you stood there for a long time, eyes closed, letting the water work its magic. 
Slowly, you began to wash yourself, scrubbing away the remnants of your father’s presence. The soap smelled of lavender, and somehow you found yourself smiling for a second, realizing this was Rafe’s scent earlier. You washed your hair, the routine bringing you back to the present. As the water rinsed off, clarity slowly returned. You were still scared shitless, but that shower gave you a moment of peace. Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel and took a deep breath.
Rafe had left a pair of sweatpants, boxers and a t-shirt outside the door, just as he said he would.
You dried off and changed into them, feeling a bit more like yourself. They were a little big, but they were warm and comfortable.
They were Rafe’s. 
You opened the bathroom door to find him waiting in the hallway. He seemed relieved to see you and you hated yourself for making him worry so bad.
"Feeling better?" 
"A little," you admitted. "Thank you."
He nodded. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
He led you to what you assumed was a guest room, the bed already made up with fresh sheets. 
"Sit here," Rafe said, motioning to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit. He kneeled in front of you again, this time with a different purpose. "Lemme see your hands."
You hesitated, then slowly extended them. They were scratched and bruised, remnants of how fucked up your father was.
Rafe’s touch was gentle as he cleaned the wounds, using antiseptic wipes to carefully remove the blood that you hadn’t been able to get rid of in the shower. 
“This might sting a bit,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the warning.
It made you wince, but you bit your lip, staying silent.
"I’m sorry," he said, noticing your discomfort.
"’M used to it. It’s okay,” You nodded, biting your lip as he cleaned the wound. 
The antiseptic burned, but you focused on Rafe’s face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in his eyes as he wrapped your hand with practiced care. 
“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”
Rafe paused, his hands stilling for a moment.
“You’re not a mess.”
Your chuckle was short and stifled, “Right.”
His fingers continued their work, securing the bandage with gentle precision. “I mean it.”
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the barrier you'd built around your heart. “Why—Why did you pick up the phone?”
“You know why.”
Rafe’s tone was final, leaving no room for conversation as he finished wrapping your hand and set it gently in your lap.
“There,” he said, “All done.”
You sank into the mattress as he pulled the blankets over you.
He was tucking you to bed, so…lovely, so not like the Rafe you met years ago. It made your heart hurt. No one had ever cleaned your wounds. 
“C-Can you stay here?”
Rafe paused, turning from where he was adjusting the pillows, "I don’t think—”
“Please.”
Without a word, he slipped off his shoes, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body against yours, his steady heartbeat, the scent of lavender and something uniquely Rafe—it all made you feel safer than you had in a long time.
"It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."
You buried your face in his chest, feeling the tears start to flow again, but this time they were tears of release, of letting go. Rafe held you tighter, his hands gently rubbing your back, his touch tender.
He didn't say anything more, just held you. As the minutes passed, your breathing gradually slowed, matching the rhythm of his. The tension in your body began to melt away, your eyes grew heavy. 
"Thank you," Your voice was muffled against his chest. "For everything."
Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
"Sleep.”
You snuggled closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, finally feeling at home.
You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the warmth of Rafe’s embrace replaced by the cold reality of the previous night’s events. The room was dimly lit, the morning sun casting soft rays through the curtains. You sat up, your mind hazy with sleep, and glanced around, your heart sinking as you realized Rafe was nowhere to be seen.
For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, but the dried blood on your clothes, lying by the floor and the faint echo of fear told you otherwise. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. 
Your father, the struggle, the blood—Rafe’s comforting presence.
You felt an immense amount of guilt as you remembered how you had leaned on him for support after you cut him out of your life.
He was already dealing with so much because of his own father, and now you had burdened him with your problems.
You rose from the bed, the oversized sweatpants and t-shirt Rafe had given you hanging loosely on your frame. You made your way to the door, listening for any sounds that might indicate where he had gone. As you walked down the hallway, you heard a faint voice coming from the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Rafe’s voice, speaking in low, urgent tones.
You hesitated for a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. Slowly, you made your way towards the kitchen, the sound of Rafe’s voice growing clearer with each step.
“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”
He paused, listening intently. You took a step closer, peering around the corner to see him standing by the kitchen counter, his phone pressed to his ear. The intensity in his eyes was unlike anything you’d seen before.
“No, she’s fine,” he continued, “But I want to make sure she stays that way.”
You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat. Rafe was talking about your father, and the realization hit you in the face.
He was trying to protect you, even now.
“Rafe…” 
Rafe turned around, his eyes widening as he saw you standing there.
“I’ll call you later." He quickly ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket as he approached you, “Hey, you’re awake,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
“What were you doing?” you asked, “Who were you talking to?”
“Hmm?”
“Rafe,” You warn, too tired to play games, “Who were you talking to?”
He sighed, looking impossibly uncomfortable as you sized him up, “My lawyer. Getting a restraining order for you.”
The confirmation nearly made your brain split into two.
“What?”
Rafe hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from you. Not that he even tried lately. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a gesture you recognized as a sign of his unease. 
"I'm trying to get a restraining order against your father."
"Why?"
His eyes bore into yours, a silent plea for you to understand, “Because you need one.”
Rafe was going to bat for you, putting himself in the line of fire to protect you from the man who had haunted your life for so long. Tears welled up in your eyes as the enormity of his actions sank in.
“I’m sorry.”
He ran a hand over his face.
“Maybank, what happened last night… it’s not something you should ever have to deal with. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve—"
“You couldn’t have known.”
Rafe shook his head, "I should've been here.”
You walked closer, closing the distance between you. "Rafe, you don't owe me anything."
He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was familiar, comforting and you leaned into it, closing your eyes briefly.
"I owe you everything," he murmured. 
You let out a shaky breath, “Don’t say that.”
He tilted your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes, his thumb brushing away a stray tear, “You think I’d be there if it wasn’t for you? Shit— Pretty, look around. It’s just me.”
Your heart pounded in your ribcage, the sincerity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.
You had spent so long building walls, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you could handle everything on your own.
“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”
Rafe’s jaw tightened, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, the vulnerability in his voice laying his heart bare. “I’m okay, see?”
You reached up, covering his hand with yours, “I was so angry at you.”
“Baby—”
“You don’t understand,” you explained, voice cracking slightly, “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”
He drew you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into him instantly. 
"I deserved it,” Rafe muttered, his breath warm against your ear.
You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"You told me you were getting clean, that you were seeing a psychologist, and I-I wasn’t there.”
Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I was a train wreck, and I hurt you. You needed to protect yourself.”
“But I should’ve been there for you,” you insisted, your voice breaking. “You were trying to get better, and I just... walked away.”
“Jesus Christ Maybank” He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a groan, “Stop the waterfloods, you’re gonna make me cry.”
“Shut up,” You let out a genuine laugh, despite the ugly crying, “’M trying to apologize—“
“You don’t have to, baby,” He cut you off, shaking his head, “Not to me, or anyone else.”
His breath mingled with yours, his presence soothing you in a way you hadn’t felt in months.
Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.
You felt yourself give in to him, your hands gripping his shirt to make sure it was real.
You’d dreamed about him for too damn long to understand the difference. The kiss was slow, deliberate…loving. Each touch, each movement, was a reassurance, a silent promise that he was here, that he wouldn’t let go. 
As you broke apart, gasping for air, lips swollen and shining, Rafe rested his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged.
“Can’t believe you made me fall in love with a pogue.”
Oh.
You blinked, caught off guard.
“In love?”
Rafe bit his lower lip, “Yeah.”
You could see the anxiety roaring inside him. The way his shoulders seemed to squeeze back in, eyes dropping to your lips. 
"I never thought I'd fall for a kook," you teased gently, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek.
“Don’t play with me,” He huffed, dropping his head against your shoulder, teeth grazing against your skin, “Fucking hell.”
You tilted his chin up gently, meeting his gaze with sincerity, “I mean it, Cameron.”
His eyes examined yours for a long moment as if confirming your words. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty.
His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was so different from the one before. You could feel the heat building between you, that undeniable chemistry pulling you together.
His hands slipped under your shirt, his shirt, the touch of his fingertips on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Rafe’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, making you dizzy with want.
“I need you,” your voice's breathless, fingers clutching at his shoulders.
He paused, lifting his head to look at you, blue eyes darken with desire.
“You’re hurt,” he gulped, “Last night—”
“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”
"That night was different. We were different."
You nodded, the memory of that night vivid in your mind. The urgency, the desperation, the way you had clung to each other as if you were drowning.
He hesitated for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over the bruise on your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” you promised, pulling him back to you. “I trust you.”
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His restrain visibly slipped away as his lips found yours again as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you upstairs, to bed and then laying you down gently as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
Rafe hovered over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped off his shirt. You reached up, tracing the lines of his muscles, marveling at the way they moved under your touch. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands working on the buttons of your shirt.
The clothes disappeared in a blur, and then it was just the two of you, skin against skin, only underwear. His hands and lips were everywhere.
“Y’know how much I missed you?”
You sighed, a smile playing at your lips as you cupped his face, “Tell me.”
Rafe’s breath hitched, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of tenderness and desperation.
“Every damn day. Every fucking minute. I’d close my eyes and all I could see was you.”
His voice trailed off, but his hands spoke for him, tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers through you. His touch was reverent as if he was rediscovering you, piece by piece.
You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your bodies aligning perfectly. 
“I’m here now.”
Rafe’s lips curved into a smile against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady. “You sure you’re okay?” 
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “More than okay. I want this. I want you.”
He kissed his way down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat as they moved lower.
“I love the way you laugh," he purred against your skin, his lips trailing down your collarbone. "The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. How strong you are, even when you don't realize it."
You shivered at his words, your heart swelling with love for the man holding you so tenderly. "Rafe..."
He kissed your lips softly, silencing you.
"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, his shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."
You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch.
"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”
Rafe's hands moved lower, teasing the waistband of your, his, boxers.
“I love how brave you are," he said, his voice husky, "How you face everything, even when it's terrifying."
He slid them down slowly, his eyes never leaving your face.
"Last night," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I was terrified. I thought I was gonna lose you.”
You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his grown-out hair, pulling him closer. "I'm here," your lips brushed against his, "I'm right here."
Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."
You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I do. I feel it."
He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a desperate urgency. He took his time, worshiping you with every touch, every kiss, making sure you knew exactly how much you meant to him.
His lips found your breasts, kissing and teasing, his hands caressing your sides, your hips. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body trembling with need. "Rafe..."
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a small smile playing at his lips.
"I love the way you say my name. Like it's the only word that matters."
He kissed his way down your stomach, his hands sliding lower, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. "I love the way you taste," he breathed, hot against your skin. "The way you feel."
You gasped, your body arching off the bed as his fingers found you, teasing, exploring. 
"Rafe, please..."
He kissed his way back up your body, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss.
"I've got you. I'm here. Tell me if you want me to stop."
You shook your head, urging him on. "Don't stop.”
He kissed your hip bones, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your inner thigh, his fingers lightly caressing your other leg.
When his mouth finally reached your core, you gasped, your body arching off the bed. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, tasting you.
The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Fuck you missed this.
Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as he continued his slow, deliberate assault.
He explored you with his tongue, each movement precise, intentional. He found a rhythm that made your head spin, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. You moaned, your fingers tightening in his short strands, pulling him closer, needing more.
Rafe responded to your silent plea, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping your thighs harder. The pressure built, an overwhelming wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He groaned against you, the vibration sending you even higher.
"Oh, Rafe," you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
He didn't.
He increased his pace, his tongue moving faster, his hands sliding under your hips, lifting you slightly to give him better access. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.
Rafe’s mouth never left you, his tongue driving you to the brink. You cried out his name, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking rapidly, and that was all it took. You shattered, not a wave, but an entire ocean of ecstasy crashing over you, your vision going white as the pleasure consumed you.
He continued his ministrations, guiding you through your orgasm, his tongue and lips never slowing, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.
When you finally came down, your body spent and trembling, Rafe kissed his way back up your body, his hands soothing the aftershocks with gentle caresses.
He hovered over you, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your heart swell.
"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.
Your bruised hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held himself back. He shifted, pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving lower, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside you.
Rafe’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.
“Are you sure about this?” He asked again. 
He cared so much it nearly sent you into an emotional spiral again.
 “I’ve never been more sure.”
That was all he needed.
In one swift motion, he shed his boxers, and you took in the sight of him, hard and ready. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time, teasing you with his fingers, making sure you were ready for him.
You gasped, arching your back as he entered you slowly, his movements deliberate, and controlled.
God, you missed feeling every inch of him. 
He paused, giving you a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. “Don’t hold back,” you almost sobbed, your breath hot against his ear. “I want all of you.”
Rafe needed no further encouragement.
He began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, each thrust deep and controlled. The pleasure built with every movement, the sensation of him filling you completely driving you wild. Your fingers dug into his back, your nails leaving marks as you clung to him, needing the connection.
He kissed you deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips, the sensation of his lips on yours amplifying the pleasure. His hands roamed over your body, one sliding under your back to pull you closer, the other tangling in your hair, holding you in place as he devoured you. You matched his rhythm, you bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Rafe’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his control slipping.
His words, the sound of his voice, sent shivers down your spine.
“Don't stop, baby- Oh, fuckkk. Please, d-don't stop."
"I won't," he promised, his voice a low growl. “Never stopping."
With those words, he lost the last of his restraint, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your passion, the slap of skin against skin that made you absolute feral for him, the desperate moans and gasps of pleasure.
You didn’t understand the sudden urge, but before you could think about it, you were pushing against Rafe’s chest.
“Your turn,” you murmured, flipping him onto his back with ease and straddling him. 
He looked up at you slightly startled, hands resting on your plush hips as you settled over him and you swore he never looked prettier.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, over your tits, cupping them gently. “Every part of you.”
You leaned down, his stubble grazing your skin, burning you most deliciously. You feel him rubbing against you, his tip touching your clit just right and you couldn’t help the satisfied moan that escaped your lips. You broke the kiss, sitting up and grinding your hips against his, feeling the heat building between you again.
“You like that?” you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers trailing down his chest.
“Fuck, yes,” he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening. “You feel amazing.”
You reached between you, guiding him to your entrance. The sensation of him sliding back inside you was electric, drawing a gasp from both of you. You started to move, slow at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely.
Rafe’s hands roamed over your body, caressing, teasing, driving you wild. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours. “Ride me, baby. I want to see you come again.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, spurring you on. You increased your pace, rolling your hips, finding the angle that drove you both to the edge. Your hands braced against his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster.
“Fuck, Rafe,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. “You feel so good inside me.”
He groaned, “You can’t be real,” his hands guided your hips, urging you to move faster. “This can’t be real—Shit, keep doing that.”
The pleasure built with every movement, your bodies moving together like they never parted.
You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the tension building, ready to snap. Rafe’s hands slid up to your breasts, teasing your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.
“Come for me, baby,” Rafe urged, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come around me.”
His words pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body arching, your vision going white as the orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he followed you into ecstasy, his release filling you, pretty hisses and groans filling your ears.
You collapsed against him, both of you breathless, spent, and completely satisfied. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your ear.
You buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by how loved you felt. You’d never felt anything like this before. His heartbeat echoed against your chest.
As you started to shift to look at him, you noticed he was staring at you with an expression that caught you off guard. His eyes were wide, intense and unwavering, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"What?" you asked softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the slight confusion.
Rafe blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. His hand reached up to gently trace your cheekbone.
"I can't believe you're real."
"Rafe..." 
He silenced you with a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. "I love you, Pretty Maybank."
"I love you too.”
646 notes · View notes
mallowsweetmiri · 14 hours ago
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Potter!Reader x Remus
Summary: after weeks of having a painful crush on your brothers best friend, you make a plan to seduce him.
Warnings: smutty and slutty
Word count: 6k
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You groaned into your pillow, wiping the sweat from your forehead into the cotton fabric. This was the second time this week you'd woken up sweating from a dream about Remus Lupin, and it troubled you deeply that the scenarios you imagined would never happen. For one, your brother would instantly shut you down if you even suggested going out with any boy, let alone his best mate. The more unfortunate part was that you were almost certain Remus saw you as nothing more than James' little sister, a title you were tired of carrying. You huffed again as you rose to start getting ready. How much longer could this crush go on? It had started on the train in September. You remember thinking to yourself that Remus had become quite good looking over the summer and left it at that. But soon, he started to catch your eyes in the hallways, then in the common room, until finally he had managed his way into your head. You were constantly thinking about him. Thinking about the glimpses of his chest you'd caught one time when his shirt was unbuttoned, thinking about the way his adam's apple moved in his throat, thinking about his hands...
You shook your head and stepped into the shower. If only you could know what he felt like, then maybe this incessant urge to be with him would go away. You felt the water fall down your back as you washed yourself up. You were a pretty girl, you knew this. If you were someone else, had a different last name, maybe you'd have a chance. Although, you'd never really tried before. You kept these thoughts to yourself, having nobody to talk to them about. Normally you would tell James everything, and he would usually play parent when it came to your school girl crushes. But you couldn't exactly go up to James and say, "Hey, do you think you could set me up with Remus? Y'know, your best mate? I really want to see what he looks like with his clothes off." No, you couldn't do that. But perhaps you wouldn't have to...
You stepped out of the shower feeling confident in your plan. You had spent all this time pining in silence over Remus, it was time for action. While you got ready, you made subtle changes. You hiked your skirt up just a little and slipped into the button down that was just a touch too small. When you did your makeup, you were sure to make your lips look extra lush and rosy. You put on your favorite perfume, the one you saved for special occasions. This seemed as good a day as any.
"There she is," James smiled and stood as you came down the stairs to the common room.
"Good morning, Jamie," you chimed, "were you waiting on me?" James laughed as he grabbed his bag off the floor, the two of you heading through to the portrait hole.
"I'm always waiting for you," James nudged you with his shoulder. "You look nice today." You raised your brow at him, his statement more of a question as if to ask "Is there a reason you're making an effort?"
"Thanks," was all you replied as you made your way to breakfast.
PHASE 1: Hook
When you got there, the other marauders were already sat down. Sirius was talking animatedly with Peter as Remus sat quietly reviewing notes.
"We've finally arrived," James said to no one in particular, taking a seat and immediately filling his plate. Remus look up from his book and mumbled something before delving back into his work. You sat next to James and made a bowl of porridge, listening to Sirius boast about the Quidditch match tomorrow.
"Ravenclaw is going to destroy Slytherin," he bellowed, thumping his fist on the table. "And then I am going to destroy a bottle of Firewhiskey in their common room." He smirked, earning and high five from James.
"That's the spirit, Pads," James cheered, taking a drink from his cup. You rolled your eyes and stirred your oats.
"I don't know how the two of you haven't died from overconsumption yet," you quipped, spooning sugar into your bowl.
"Genuinely," Remus added, looking up from his book, "you two are menaces." You hummed in agreement, bringing the spoon to your mouth to lick the extra sugar off. You caught Remus watching from your peripherals and made a show of it, bringing your glossed lips together at the tip of the spoon. When you glanced up thoughtfully through your lashes, he was still watching. It made you chuckle as his eyes quickly averted back to his book. Baited.
"Are you coming tomorrow, Y/N?" Peter asked, shoving toast into his mouth. You swallowed your porridge and swore that Remus' ears seemed to shift at the question.
"Y/N never comes to quidditch parties," James pouted, turning to look at you. You rolled your eyes.
"Correction, I never come to your quidditch parties," you teased, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I'll probably go tomorrow to see Pandora. If Ravenclaw wins," you reminded them. Sirius grumbled something but you couldn't tell what he was saying through his mouthful of sausage. James' face lit up with excitement.
"Ooh! Sibling bonding time," he gushed cheesily, squeezing your cheeks. Oh, for fucks sake. Could he stop? You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as his bloody little sister and he was ruining all your efforts.
"Okay, that's enough. I'm going to class," you grumbled, trying to hide your annoyance in front of Remus. The boys chuckled as you gathered your things and got up from your seat. If James was going to be a tosser, you'd have to up your game.
"Oops," you said innocently as you dropped your book on the ground, loud enough to make a clatter. You bent over to pick it up, praying that James was currently not watching.
"Merlin, Y/N. Pull your bloody skirt down," James scolded, making a foul face. You rolled your eyes at him again and stuck your tongue out as you continued to exit the hall. Well, if Remus hadn't been looking before, he surely was now.
PHASE 2: Line
You were more than excited for the Quidditch game, especially after spending yesterday evening stuck in the dungeons fixing your laughing potion. You were also excited because you had another chance to see Remus. You had only seen him briefly yesterday, and he was always buried in his work. Hopefully you'd be able to gain his attention today at the game.
With this intention, you slipped on a white babydoll top and watched yourself in the mirror as you buttoned it up. You looked good. You left the top button purposely unlatched, knowing it could catch someone’s attention. After slipping on your favorite pair of jeans, you felt confident- sexy, even. Just the idea of Remus thinking you were sexy made you bite your lip.
You didn't wait for your roommates to finish getting ready. You did a last check of your things, grabbed your coat, and started down to the common room. As per usual, the marauders were sitting around the couches, talking loudly and taking up space. This time, Remus was clearly in on whatever bet was being placed over the quidditch game. His crooked smile made you curse under your breath and fix your hair. You decided to play it safe and sit by Marlene in an attempt to hide your fluster.
“Hi Marls,” you chimed, plopping down next to her.
“Princess Potter! You look absolutely dashing today,” she gloated, giving you a quick hug into her shoulder. You blushed from her compliment and peered upwards from the hug. Remus was smiling at something Peter had said, but was looking at you. You sent him a small wave from under Marlene’s arm to which he nodded up in response before turning his attention back to the boys. Why was that so hot?
Within twenty minutes, the group of Gryffindors was ready to leave, so the lot of you began the journey down to the pitch. It was nice out today, one of those afternoons where the sun seemed to warm the grounds and the breeze. This meant that the entire school would be at the game. You weren’t usually a fan of crowded spaces, but you silently thanked the gods for putting you behind Remus as you filed into the stands. It was so packed, you could smell the cologne lingering off his clothes as you sat down on the bench. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile of satisfaction. It felt like the universe was helping your scheme.
“Y/N!” James called over the crowd, leaning forward to see you. You raised your brows and leaned forward to see him, giving him a forced smile.
“Yes, brother dearest?” You called back in a sickly sweet voice. At least now you had an excuse to lean over Remus, who was currently leaning back as far as he could to get out of the way. Perfect position to climb onto his lap, your brain thought intrusively.
“Your boyfriend’s up on the pitch,” he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, pointing to Theodore Pompous, a 7th year Ravenclaw. You leaned over Remus and Peter to smack your brother.
“Bugger off,” you grumbled. “I admit to having a crush one time in third year, and you still haven’t shut up about it!” You felt your cheeks blush as James and Sirius continued to tease you in the most immature manner. All you could do was roll your eyes and take it, those prats.
“Still have a crush on that posh boy?” Remus leaned in with a teasing smile. You internally groaned at him for joining in on the joke, but you wouldn’t pass up the chance to tease him back.
“Why, are you jealous?” You challenged with a devious head tilt. Remus scoffed and trained his eyes back on Theodore.
“Nah,” Remus replied coolly. “Besides, James would never let you go out with that git.”
“Oh, yea?” You asked, leaning in slightly. “And who would my brother let me go out with?” He turned to face you, his eyes meeting your provocative stare. His eyes flashed with something before Marlene tugged on your arm.
“Can you tell the boys to scoot down? Lily just got here.”
You stifled the urge to roll your eyes as you and Remus called out for the boys to move further down the bench. There wasn’t much room to spare, and you ended up wedged between Marlene and Remus. You were painfully aware of his leg against your own, though Marlene's thigh didn't seem to cross your mind. Remus leaned away from you, his hand behind Peter on the bench to support his weight. It was only a minute of this compromising position before they announced the start of the game. Then, everyone leapt to their feet, eager to watch.
It was a riveting match, and Slytherin almost took the win. Luckily, Theodore managed to catch the snitch at the perfect score ratio, ending the game and sealing the win for Ravenclaw. As the excitement and cheers began to die down, everyone started slowly filing out of the stands. You shuffled behind Marlene, the noise of chatter and brushing of shoulders making you feel slightly overwhelmed. The party was going to be packed tonight. You were almost to the stairs when your foot got caught on a raised step, tripping you into the walkway. You gasped as your heart lurched forward. You prepared for impact against the steps, but it never came. Suddenly, you felt that Remus’ hands had wrapped around your waist. Your cheeks flushed red as you twisted around to face him, his right hand still lingering on your body.
“Thanks,” you muttered sheepishly, your body still shaken from the almost fall. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on you, and was about to say something before James appeared next to him. Remus dropped his hand and shoved it in his pocket. You turned back around and kept following Marlene, carefully watching where you stepped.
“Y/N, fix your shirt!” James called from behind. You clenched your jaw as you kept trudging on, shuffling along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Marlene fell beside you and scoffed.
“He is such a prat about you,” Marlene complained, throwing a dirty look back at James.
“Tell me about it. I almost eat shit and all he cares about is my shirt buttons,” you grumbled, begrudgingly buttoning your top. Marlene cackled and threw her arm around you.
“Please tell me you’re coming to the party tonight,” Marlene pleaded, shaking you slightly.
“Oh, I’m coming to the party tonight,” you grinned delightfully, nudging her in response. “And James is going to freak out when he sees what I’m wearing.”
PHASE 3: and Sinker
"Okay, actually what the fuck are you wearing, Y/N. This is my last straw," James warned, pushing himself up from the arm chair. His outburst made the other three boys heads snap up. You couldn't help but smirk as you felt Remus’ eyes on your body.
"What? This is what people wear at Ravenclaw parties these days," you shrugged, waving past them towards the exit. "Not that you lot would know. You don't get invited." Sirius barked out a laugh, while James sputtered in disbelief behind you.
"She's right!" Mary called from the stairs, bouncing into the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor girls, all looking flawless. You couldn't blame James for his reaction- If anything, you should be thanking him. He's doing a great job of getting everyone to stare.
"While I respect your opinion James, I think I look great. And I can wear whatever the hell I want," you snapped, spinning around to face him with a stubborn glare. The girls cheered, shouting some excited "Hell yeahs!" as James gave up with a resigned eye roll. He knew better than to cross you on something you wanted, and you clearly wanted something. He just didn't need to know exactly what it was. The girls followed you excitedly as you started out the portrait hole. This was going to be a fun night.
As predicted, the Ravenclaw common room was packed. By the time you arrived, the moonlight was already pouring through the glass ceiling dome, casting everything in a dreamy glow. It wasn't hard for Pandora to spot you, pulling you onto the dance floor with an airy giggle. The music was pulsing through your veins as you finished your first drink, then your second. Pandora pulled you into her body, the two of you laughing as you swayed and twirled. For a moment, your eyes focused on the group of Gryffindors hanging out in the lounge area, laughing at something Sirius had said. Remus sat back in a chair, his casual demeanor seeming out of place in a room like this.
Remus.
Your swaying slowed as you trained your eyes on him sitting nonchalantly. He was watching you, his jaw tightening as his eyes dropped to where Pandoras hands rested on your hips. It was too bad that Pandora twirled you around and you lost your train of thought.
"Panda, let's go smoke. I'm getting dizzy," you called over the music, Pandora nodding in response. The two of you resigned to a quiet corner, where you pulled out a tin of cigarettes and lit one with a flick of your wand. You inhaled deeply, enjoying the relief of cool air away from the crowd. You leaned your back up against the wall as Pandora took the fag from your hands.
“Lingering eyes are on you,” Pandora sang, her spacey eyes falling behind you as she took a drag. You turned your head to see where she was looking and was met with Remus' stare.
“Perfect. Those are just the eyes I want lingering,” you replied, bringing your drink to your lips as you watched him. You half expected him to look away, but his eyes were burning through you. You watched as he scanned up your body, his eyes meeting yours before he downed the rest of his drink. He then quickly averted to James who was trying to get Remus' attention.
"I need another drink,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself off the wall, Pandora's giggles echoing behind you. You crossed the room over to where the drinks were. You couldn’t tell if the room was charmed to be slightly purple or if it was the night sky above you. Either way, the ambiance certainly added to your intoxication as you neared the edge of the room. You almost didn’t realize someone slipping up behind you.
"Are you teasing me, Y/N?" Remus asked, cornering you by the drinks table as you spun around. He moved quickly, and you peered behind him to check for any lingering marauders.
"I'm always teasing you idiots," you sassed, turning to grab a bottle off the table. Remus seemed to step even closer to you. If one of the boys saw you like this, they'd certainly take notice. He was being bold. Luckily, you were hidden by an abnormally large globe and the mist that seemed to float about the room.
"I see you everyday," Remus challenged, huffing out a laugh, "and I've never noticed you looking at me with those eyes, Y/N." You hummed as you filled two shot glasses.
“What eyes?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes as you held out a shot for him. He scoffed out another laugh and took the shot from you.
“Cheers, love,” he winked, clanking his glass with yours before downing the shot. You followed suit, happy to consume some liquid courage. He leaned in closer to you and lowered his voice, “You know, you should really be careful wearing something like that.”
“Why’s that?” You swallowed, the burn from the shot making your cheeks hot.
“You might catch someone’s attention who you don’t want,” Remus said darkly, making you bite your lip. You’d never seen him like this before.
“And what if I catch the attention of someone I do want?” You asked coyly, looking up at him again through a tantalizing gaze. Remus scoffed again for the third time, as if he couldn’t believe your audacity.
“And who is it that you want, Y/N? Hmm?” He asked, more of a challenge. At this point, you were certain that he wanted you. That, or you were about to be in serious trouble. Either way, the risk seemed worth the reward.
“You.”
Something broke in Remus as he stepped forward again, impossibly closer as his hands met your hips.
"You mean to tell me you wore this dress, just to get my attention?" He laughed, his voice low and teasing. You bit your lip and blushed, trying to hide your blatant satisfaction. Remus was smarter than he looked.
"Mmhm," you nodded, your poorly hidden smile spreading to his face.
"Fuck, Y/N," he broke and turned to scan the room, his hands still grasping your hips. You stared up at him, watching his jaw tense as he tried to locate the marauders. His hands were burning through your dress as you stood completely still. You felt relieved when he muttered, "Follow Me," and ushered you towards the exit. You weren't sure where your brother was, but you trusted Remus to get you into the hallway. Once you had exited the doors, he wasted no time as he pressed you into the wall, the force causing you to gasp. He held you in place as he pressed his forehead into yours.
"Can I kiss you?" he whispered and you almost scoffed. You tugged him by the collar and collided his mouth with yours, groaning when he deepened the kiss immediately. His hands were greedy, grabbing at your body as he pushed himself against you. This was even better than your dreams. All sense left your body as he continued kissing down your neck. He pressed his knee roughly in between your legs. A moan left you lips as he bit down, nipping and sucking at your skin.
"Fuck, Remus," you panted, your hips rolling up towards his body. He grunted and pushed you back against the wall. Who knew Remus Lupin would be so intense?
"Can I take you back?" he breathed heavily, as if he was barely holding onto his control.
"Do you even have to ask?" you teased, his body flush against your own. He huffed out a laugh as he kissed your neck again.
"You know I have to ask, Y/N," Remus muttered darkly, as though the act of asking in itself was a violation. And maybe it was, but you couldn't care less about the line he was crossing.
"Does this answer your question?" You whispered, pulling his hand down to touch you. He cursed under his breath as he felt you, his hand seeming to move on its own as he ran his fingers up your soaking panties. It took him a minute to regain focus.
"Okay, let's go," he commanded, guiding you down the hallway with haste. You giggled as he held your waist, moving you quickly towards the Gryffindor tower. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. It surprised and satisfied you that your plan had worked, that you'd managed to tip Remus over so far that he was bringing you back to his dorm.
"You're moving so fast," you fussed as he dragged you up the stairs. His legs were significantly longer than yours.
"M' sorry," he muttered, his eyes focused ahead. "I don't want to waste any time." His urgency was contagious, and you felt yourself pick up the pace. He released you as you stepped through the portrait hole, his grip loosening with surprising restraint. He was careful, and as much as it didn't concern you in the moment, you were glad at least one of you was being responsible. There weren't many people in the common room, everyone either asleep or at the party. Remus' hand found your back once again as he silently steered you towards the boys dorms. You went up the staircase until you reached their door, looking back at Remus for permission before opening it. The windows let in slivers of moonlight and a cooling breeze. Remus shut the door behind you and turned you around. Somehow his faced seemed more real as he stood there, his eyes searching your face.
"Remus," you breathed, feeling the weight of his gaze. He huffed out a breath through his nose, stepping close to you.
"Just tell me Y/N," he said, his hands finding your neck, "Just tell me if you want me to stop."
"I want you," you whined, standing on your tip toes and pulling him down by the neck. He gratefully returned the motion, groaning as his mouth found yours. Remus was everything you'd expected and more. He knew what he was doing, and his blatant want for you made your legs buckle under his touch. He walked you backwards, lifting you by the thighs and lowering you carefully onto his bed. His hand smoothed its way over your leg, pushing up the hem of your dress. His thumb swiped against your front, causing your back to lift slightly under his touch. He hummed into your mouth as he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel him through his pants, and you groaned at his size. Fucking hell. You ran your finger nails down the back of his shirt. Remus pulled his wand out of his pocket and closed his curtains, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt. You watched, mesmerized by the show in front of you. The scars that ran down his chest, lower to his abdomen, and lower...
"My eyes are up here, darling," Remus teased, smirking down at you as he tugged off his shirt. You swallowed, looking up at his eyes which were no less intimidating than his body. He scoffed out a laugh as he climbed over you, running his fingertips down your body.
"If your intention was to get my attention all night, you did a good job," he breathed, pressing his finger into your clit. "Such a good job."
He stifled your moan with his mouth, his kiss wet and needy. His fingers moved carefully over your panties, provoking a response from your body that you'd never experienced before. You were trying your best to keep up with his kiss, but the overwhelming sensation of Remus had you melting into the bed.
"Oh, fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back into the pillow as his fingers moved underneath the fabric. He hummed as he began to kiss roughly down your neck. His fingers swiped over your slickness, teasing your entrance. You grasped onto him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulder as he plunged a finger inside you. He pushed himself up to watch you as he pumped another finger into you, you hips moving rhythmically with his hands. By this point, you looked a complete mess with your dress bunched around your middle and your mouth in a permanent gasp. You groaned as you felt yourself beginning to pulse on the brink of an orgasm.
"Fuck, Y/N. Are you going to cum?" Remus mocked you, he fingers stealdiy curly up inside of you.
"Y-yea. M' gonna cum," You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. Remus muttered a curse under his breath before ducking his head and finding his way in between your thighs. Without warning, he buried himself in you, lapping at your clit while pinning you down by the waist. You grasped at his hair, attempting to pull him off of you but it was no use. He was humming into you as you moved in circle around his face, teetering on the verge of your orgasm. He let out a particularly throaty grunt that sent you over the edge. You let out a muffled cry as you spilled your juices onto his tongue repeatedly. He finished you up, humming as he began to kiss up your body until he hovered over you again. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, your hips snapping up to feel his hard on. "You're so perfect, Y/N," Remus praised, pulling your dress down over your bum. Your tits were now fully exposed, Remus' hands and eyes exploring over your body like he was trying to memorize you. "So perfect... I want you so badly..." He groaned, kissing over you chest and rubbing your tit in his hand. You groaned with pleasure.
"Then have me." You didn't hesitate to pull off the rest of your clothes, helping Remus unbutton his pants and pull them over his ankles. He did the same with his boxers, his length springing free. You bit your lip at the sight, a little nervous for how big he was. This didn't deter you though as you sat on your knees and leaned forward, beckoning him to use you.
"You're so fucking-” Remus let out a groan as he pushed himself inside your mouth, grabbing the back of your head with his hand. You wet his shaft with your tongue, moaning as he began to move down your throat. "So fucking good." His praises made you clamp your knees together, groaning again as you took him as far as you could handle. He gripped your hair roughly and throat fucked you for a few seconds before pulling you off, as if he couldn't control himself. "Turn around."
You did as you were told and spun around onto you hands. He pushed you chest down into the bed lined himself up with your entrance. You tried to sit back onto him, but his other hand held your hips firmly in place.
"Please, Remus," you choked out, your face buried into the mattress. He groaned as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you out with every inch he pressed inside of you.
"Oh, fuck," Remus breathed, moving slowly to let you adjust to his size. This consideration didn't last long before he was pounding you into his mattress, calling you filthy names and tugging on your hair. All the restraint he seemed to have went out the window as he fucked you mercilessly from behind.
"R-Remus. Fuck- me-" you cried, whimpering with every thrust. His hand gripped your hip with a squeeze as he leaned over your body.
"You're taking me so well," He breathed, running his hand under you body. He snaked his hand over your tit and pulled you up against him, making you gasp with pleasure from the new angle. "You're doing so good, angel."
He had you melting from his touch as your body gave out underneath his hands. He bit your neck gently, sucking and kissing on the sweet spot he had found earlier. You groaned as your head lulled back on his shoulder. This was not what you were expecting. You had no complaints though as he reached down between your legs and started pressing on your clit, pushing himself deep inside of you.
“R-Remus,” you warned, struggling to hold yourself up. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach for the second time as his thick cock moved inside of you, putting more pressure on your nerves.
“Just like that, Y/N,” he murmured, his strong hands holding you in place. “Just let go, sweetheart.”
You didn’t have to be told twice as you let yourself release around him, guttural sounds coming out of your mouth. You had no time to feel embarrassed over your moans as he pushed you back on the bed and started fucking you senseless.
“So good, fuck me,” Remus mutter incoherently as he rammed himself inside of you, grabbing at your hips. You looked back at him to watch, and were not disappointed at the sight. When his eyes locked onto yours, he broke. He snapped his hips haphazardly as he released himself inside of you. You moaned again at the feeling of Remus Lupin filling you up with his cum. He thrust into you one last time before falling over you, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck.
“So fucking good, Y/N,” he praised again, cleaning the both of you up with an impressive flick of his wand. You hummed and turned yourself around in a fucked out daze. He watched you pout as you pulled weakly on his neck. He chuckled under his breath and came down to kiss you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, lazily kissing as his hands rubbed gently down your body, a stark contrast from his rough actions just moments ago.
“I should probably go,” you frowned as he came up for air. He mirrored your response and sighed.
“You’re probably right,” he said, pushing himself off of you. “Here, let me grab you a shirt.” He pulled on his own pants before you heard him shuffle to his trunk. Just as you were about to move to get up, you heard someone bounding up the stairs.
“Shit,” you whispered, frozen in place. You saw Remus’ hands toss a shirt through the curtain before retreating, and you gratefully put it on. Luckily, your dress was still under you. You heard Remus kick your shoes under his bed.
“Moony? Why’d you leave so early?” You heard Sirius ask with a slight slur, stumbling into the room.
“Started boking,” Remus replied casually. “I feel like shit, I’m just gonna go to bed.” Sirius hummed and fell on his bed. You heard him kick off his shoes and manuveur himself under the sheets.
“You and me both, Moons,” Sirius groaned, seemingly too drunk to care about any lie Remus was spewing. Remus moved towards his bed.
“Alright, well. G’night,” Remus murmured, climbing into bed quickly.
“G’night,” Sirius muttered, rummaging through something. You looked to Remus with concern, who only put his finger to his lips as he came to lay down next to you. His haphazard smile seemed to relax you a bit as he pulled you into your chest, humming with content.
“Just go to sleep, love,” he whispered quietly and kissed your head. “I’ll get you back safe and sound.” Perhaps it was against your better judgement, but you seemed to trust Remus wholly to take care of you. That and your body was completely exhausted from him. You murmured a goodnight as you buried yourself into his neck, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. At some point, you heard your brother come in with Peter. Remus momentarily tensed causing you to shift. His grasp tightened on you before he heard Sirius grumble something along the lines of “sick” to James and the room fell silent again.
The second time you stirred, you felt Remus pulling away from you. You mumbled lightly, confused as to why he was getting out of bed. He turned to shush you quietly before stepping out. You heard him shuffle across the room.
“James,” he whispered, “James, wake up.” You sat up quietly in his bed. What the fuck was he doing?
“Mm,” James groaned, turning in his bed. “Moony?”
“Yea it’s me,” Remus said quickly. “Can I borrow your cloak? I think a Slytherin charmed my drink last night and I need to go on a quick mission.” You rolled your eyes at this. Remus was smart, and his lies would perfectly convince James. He would never turn down a prank.
“Oh, shit,” James said, slightly more awake. “Do you want me to come?”
“No,” Remus answered quickly. “Uh, no. I’ll be super quick. I just can’t sleep until I know I got back at them.” This seemed to appease James as you heard him fall back into bed.
“Sure, Moony,” James yawned. “It’s in my trunk.” You heard Remus shuffle through his trunk before coming back around to the other side of your bed. You heard him slip on some shoes before holding the curtain open, once again holding his finger to his lips. You rolled your eyes at this and quietly stepped out of the bed, thankfully blocked by the rest of the room. Remus threw the cloak over the both of you and guiding you to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Both of you felt relief as you stepped into the stairway, making your way down to the common room. Nobody was here at this hour. Remus threw the cloak off of you.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, spinning you around to face him. “I should’ve been more careful.” You shook your head.
“It’s fine, I didn’t mind using you as my pillow for a bit,” you chuckled lightly. “Besides, I could’ve used a bit more caution myself.” You blushed shyly at him. You hadn’t been the most discreet throughout the whole ordeal. Remus laughed at this and ran his thumbs across your hips, causing you to shiver. You wore only his oversized shirt and your panties.
“Nah,” Remus said with his lopsided grin. “I think I quite like your obvious pining for me.” You slapped his chest lightly as he chuckled. “I’ll just have to work extra hard to keep you to myself.” He leaned in to kiss you, and you felt your heart leap. So much for getting over your crush.
“Hmm, I’ll guess I’ll have to keep trying to get you attention then,” you whispered, pulling back from his lips. He hummed and kissed you again, as if he couldn’t get enough.
“Go get some sleep, love. I’m sure you need it,” he teased, flashing another grin at you. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t keep your smile down.
“Goodnight, Remus.” You started towards the girls dormitories.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
Remus found himself staying in the common room with James’ cloak, not wanting to return too early. He tried to convince himself this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t justify it. There really wasn’t anything that could stop him from fucking you again. His mind flashed with images of your perfect eyes looking back at him as he rammed himself inside of your perfect pussy. His head fell back onto the couch with a thud. He was a goner.
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goblin-jr · 1 day ago
Text
And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.
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Pairing: JJ x Reader, Rafe x Reader
Synopsis: the pogues spend a day on the boat, when the kooks drop by in an unexpected visit
masterlist
A/N: This series takes place before season 1!, Rafe is a year older and Sarah and John B are not together (yet)
----
The sun hung lazily in the sky, its light spilling through the half-open windows of the Chateau. A familiar hum of conversation and laughter filled the room—nothing urgent, just the easy chatter of friends who had been through it all together. The Pogues were scattered about, each doing their own thing, but as usual, everything seemed to orbit around JJ’s chaotic energy. He was perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, cracking jokes with Pope, while Kie sprawled across the floor, flicking through an old magazine she’d probably never seen before.
Y/N sat in the armchair by the window, tucked away in the corner of the room, her knees drawn up to her chest. The sunlight slanted across her face, but it didn’t quite warm her. She let the conversation wash over her, her attention flickering between the others, but never quite landing. 
Her fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, a subtle rhythm to match the hum of the house. She’d always felt a little like this—tuned in but separate. A quiet force, content to observe, to hold the space between the noise. She loved them all in ways that went beyond words, but today, there was something off-kilter, something unsaid that sat heavily on her chest. Maybe it was the way JJ kept glancing at Kie—something different in his eyes when he looked at her. 
Kie had only been with the group for a few months, but it already felt like she’d always been here. There was a lightness about her, an ease in the way she moved through the world, something Y/N had always admired. But right now, as Kie laughed with Pope—her voice loud and carefree—Y/N couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she didn’t fit as neatly into the circle anymore. 
JJ’s laugh rang out, deep and full of life, and for a moment, Y/N forgot herself. She smiled, letting the sound sink in. It was that laugh—wild and free—that had been the soundtrack to her childhood. But then Kie said something, teasing him about the way he worked on the boat. Y/N could see the way JJ’s face softened, the way his eyes lingered on Kie a little longer than necessary. He didn’t have to say anything; she could feel it in the air, that subtle shift. 
“JJ, you gonna fix that boat or just stare at Kie all day?” Pope teased, grinning as he shot a glance toward the two of them. 
JJ shot back a playful middle finger, but his smile was softer now, gentler in a way Y/N wasn’t used to seeing. 
It’s nothing, Y/N told herself, staring out at the water, trying to chase the gnawing ache away. They’re just friends. Just like you. But she couldn’t escape the tightness in her throat. 
“Y/N, you coming with us to the boat?” JJ’s voice cut through the space, warm and casual. 
She turned, forcing a smile as their eyes met. There it was again—the same easy grin he always gave her. She should have been used to it by now, but today, it felt like a door she couldn’t quite open. 
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, the words slipping out before she could think. She wanted to stay here, in the quiet, where she could nurse the ache that wasn’t quite a wound but felt like one all the same. But it wasn’t fair to stay away. Not with everything they’d been through. 
JJ paused for a second, studying her. His brow furrowed just a little, like he noticed something wasn’t right, but then he shrugged it off and stood. “Alright. See you out there.” 
As he turned to walk toward the door, Y/N’s gaze lingered on him—on the way his shoulders shifted under his old T-shirt, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead. He looked like a kid, like the JJ she’d always known. Except he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Kie again, talking animatedly, the space between them comfortable and familiar. It was an ease that made Y/N feel like she was standing just outside of it, watching them from a distance. 
What’s wrong with me?
Y/N let her gaze drop, blinking rapidly as her chest tightened. She knew it wasn’t fair. She couldn’t expect JJ to feel the same way, not when Kie was right there, effortlessly slipping into their world. 
She reached for her water bottle, her hands suddenly unsteady. Maybe it would be easier to just ignore it all. Pretend like nothing had changed. But it was hard to ignore the way JJ’s gaze lingered on Kie, and how it felt like Y/N was the one left in the background, hoping to be noticed, hoping to be more than just a friend. 
---
The boat drifted lazily along the water, the sun casting golden streaks across the horizon. The Pogues were all there—comfortable, at ease, as they always were when they had the ocean to themselves. JJ steered the boat with one hand, the other resting lazily on the edge, while Pope and Kie argued over something trivial in the back. Kie’s laugh rang out, carefree, as Pope pretended to be offended.
Y/N sat at the bow, her legs dangling over the side, watching the water ripple beneath them. The peacefulness of the moment made it easy to forget the tension she’d been carrying lately, but every time she glanced at JJ, her heart would tighten. He looked so at ease—so himself—but she couldn’t help but feel like there was a wall between them, even if he didn’t notice it.
“Should we head to the cove?” John B’s voice broke through her thoughts, his eyes scanning the horizon. He stood at the back, hands on the wheel as he looked between Kie and Pope. 
Kie gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Definitely! I need a swim after all this boat gossip.”
“You’re always gossiping,” Pope teased, shaking his head, but his smile betrayed him.
Y/N smiled softly at the way they bantered. The Pogues were good at making everything feel normal, even when it was anything but. 
Then, just as they were beginning to shift course, a loud roar of an engine cut through the peace of the afternoon. Y/N squinted against the sun, eyes narrowing as a sleek red boat appeared on the horizon, blaring music that made her ears ring even from this far off.
“Of course,” JJ muttered under his breath, his tone already dripping with annoyance.
John B glanced over, brow furrowed. “Kooks.”
Y/N tensed. She recognized that boat instantly—too many of them, too familiar. Rafe was at the helm, leaning back with that smug expression he always wore, flanked by some of the other Kooks she had hoped to avoid today.
Kie laughed, a look of disgust on her face. “Maybe they’re here to join the party.”
The Kooks steered their boat closer, stopping right next to the little pogue dinghy, the music thumping louder now. A few of the guys waved at them, too many of them for Y/N to even count, and there was Rafe, standing at the front, arms folded, his eyes scanning the group. He briefly caught Kie’s eye before his gaze moved to JJ. 
Y/N felt the air shift. The familiar tension between the Kooks and Pogues was back in full force. 
“You guys really cruising around out here, huh?” Rafe called out, his voice loud enough to make Y/N flinch. There was a mocking edge to his tone, as if he’d intentionally come just to throw his presence in their faces.
“Is that what you call it?” JJ shot back, his voice flat, but his body rigid. “Can’t say we’re impressed.”
John B exchanged a glance with JJ, clearly not thrilled by the Kooks’ appearance. Pope crossed his arms and shook his head, clearly irritated but trying to keep cool.
“Maybe you guys just need a little fun,” one of the Kooks from the back shouted. He was a lanky guy with messy blonde hair, grinning like an idiot as he leaned over the edge of the boat. “Lighten up, Pogues. You all look like you could use a drink.”
Y/N could feel the frustration building in her chest, but it wasn’t the Kooks themselves that pissed her off. It was the way they acted—like they were above everyone, as if the water was theirs to pollute and ruin.
Before anyone could say anything else, the guy grabbed a couple of beer cans and tossed them toward their boat, the cans hitting the water with a sharp plunk. JJ’s eyes flashed with anger. 
“Are you kidding me?” he shouted, standing up from the wheel. “Pick that up!”
The Kook laughed. “What’s the matter, you don’t like a little fun?” He tossed another can, but this time it hit a bit too close to Y/N. 
Y/N barely had time to react before someone from the Kook boat reached over between the gap and shoved her—hard.
She stumbled backward, trying to catch herself, but her foot caught on the edge of the boat, sending her crashing into the side with a sickening thud. The wind rushed from her lungs, and for a moment, the world blurred around her.
“Y/N!” JJ’s voice cut through the daze, and she blinked rapidly, trying to push the pain out of her head. She could feel the rough edge of the boat against her back, but JJ was there, pulling her upright, his hands steady but shaking.
“You okay?” JJ’s voice was full of concern, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to assess the damage. 
“I’m fine,” Y/N managed to say, her head still spinning, though the world was beginning to come into focus. “Just a little banged up.”
But JJ wasn’t listening to her. He was already glaring at the Kooks, his jaw tight with anger. 
“You don’t touch her,” he growled, stalking toward the Kook who’d shoved her.
“Whoa, calm down, man,” the Kook said, laughing like this was all a joke. But the humor in his eyes was gone, replaced with nervousness. 
Rafe stepped forward, putting a hand on the Kook’s shoulder to steady him. There was something about Rafe’s demeanor that made Y/N pause. His usual cocky arrogance was replaced by a momentary flicker of something—regret? Maybe guilt? But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual indifference.
“Enough,” Rafe said, his voice calm but commanding. “We’re not here to fight. Just... let it go, alright?”
JJ was still seething, but he backed off, eyes never leaving the Kooks as they started their engine and revved it up. The boat began to pull away, leaving the Pogues in their wake, the sound of the engine roaring into the distance. 
John B looked at JJ and Y/N with a raised brow. “Everything okay?”
Y/N nodded, pushing herself up slowly. “I’m good. Just a little shaken up.”
Pope gave her a worried look but said nothing. Kie, on the other hand, was already clapping her hands together, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, that was fun.”
But it wasn’t fun. None of it had been. Y/N’s head throbbed, the spot where she’d hit the boat feeling like it might bruise. More than the pain, though, it was the feeling of being caught between worlds—the world of the Pogues she belonged to, and the world of the Kooks she could never be part of. The sting of it settled deep in her chest, just like the Kooks' laughter had.
As the boat drifted, the light-hearted banter of the group didn’t quite reach her. She just sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the horizon, feeling the space between herself and everyone else grow wider.
---
By the time the Pogues returned to the Chateau, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with fiery oranges and purples. The boat was parked, and the group had made their way up the hill toward the house, their laughter and chatter from earlier fading into the quiet of the evening.
The stress from the altercation still hung heavy in the air, but for now, they were back in their element. The familiar smell of wood smoke filled the air as John B and JJ started gathering firewood for a campfire. Kie, Pope, and Y/N sat on the porch, watching the boys work as the last light of day slowly gave way to the cool night air.
“Man, I can’t believe those Kooks,” Pope muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Always gotta start something.”
Kie sighed, clearly trying to push past the tension. “At least it didn’t escalate any further. We should just let it go.”
“I don’t know,” Y/N said softly, her voice quieter than usual. She had been a little off since the Kook run-in, her thoughts still a tangled mess. “They’re not just gonna let it go. They never do.”
John B overheard as he carried a pile of firewood over to the fire pit. He shot her a look of understanding. “Yeah, but we don’t have to give them what they want. That’s the trick.”
“You’re right,” Kie agreed, pulling her legs up onto the chair as she hugged her knees. “We don’t have to let them get under our skin.”
Y/N wasn’t sure she agreed. Something in her felt off, unsettled. After everything, the Kooks had left with their laughter and their mockery, and yet the real sting came later, when they were back home, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the Chateau.
A few moments later, the crackling of firewood and the sound of shifting rocks interrupted her thoughts. The fire was going strong now, the orange glow casting long shadows across the group. The Pogues settled in around the campfire, with Kie and JJ sitting together on one side, Pope and John B across from them. Y/N sat on the edge, close enough to feel part of the group but far enough to replay the events of the afternoon in her head.
Y/N wasn’t sure how it had happened, how she’d ended up slipping and hitting her head during the scuffle. One minute she’d been trying to get away from a Kook who’d pushed her too hard, the next, she’d found herself on the deck, the world spinning. Her head throbbed, and her vision blurred before she managed to sit up again, the edge of the boat’s railing digging into her back.
“Y/N!” JJ had shouted, his voice laced with panic as he rushed to her side, his expression clouded with worry. “Hey, are you alright? Shit, you okay?”
She’d tried to wave it off, but the dizziness only made it worse. “I’m fine, JJ,” she had muttered, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing anyone, herself included.
JJ hadn’t let up. His hand had been on her shoulder, steady and warm, and when he’d helped her to her feet, he hadn’t let go until he was sure she was steady.
“I’ve got you,” he had said, his voice softer than usual, the concern in his eyes unmistakable. “Let me help.”
At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it—JJ had always been the one to jump into action when someone needed it, whether it was Pope with his academic struggles or John B with his reckless plans. But now, as she sat by the fire, her head resting against the back of the chair and the warmth of the flames flickering in front of her, she realized just how much that moment had meant.
JJ was still in the thick of it, bantering with Kie, his usual grin in place. But every now and then, his gaze flickered over to Y/N, like he couldn’t help but make sure she was okay.
Kie’s voice cut through the air, teasing JJ about something ridiculous, and JJ was laughing so hard, his shoulders shaking. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sound—JJ’s laughter was always contagious, no matter what. But as she watched him, something stirred inside her. There was a reason she had fallen for him, a reason she had always been drawn to him. And it wasn’t just because he was funny or fearless or even loyal—it was moments like this.
The way he’d stayed by her side on the boat, his face scrunched in worry when she had hit her head. The way his eyes had softened, and the way he had cared for her without question, without hesitation. It was something she had never really been able to put into words, but now, sitting there, she could see it. JJ wasn’t just a guy who took risks or made jokes—he was a guy who cared. Deeply.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a weight shift beside her. JJ had sat down next to her, his leg brushing hers in that easy, comfortable way they’d always had.
“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady, eyes searching hers for any sign that she was still hurting.
Y/N nodded, the lingering headache still present but manageable. “Yeah. It’s just a bump. I’m fine.”
JJ’s hand hovered near her shoulder for a moment, like he wanted to reach out but was unsure. Then, without saying anything more, he simply leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the firepit edge.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he meant it. “Would’ve lost my mind if something happened to you.”
Y/N swallowed, her heart giving an unexpected jolt at his words. She knew he didn’t mean it in the way she wished, but it still made something inside her ache.
"Thanks," she whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the flames.
A beat passed. Kie and the others were talking about something else now, their attention shifting away from the two of them. It was just JJ and Y/N for a moment, and that’s when she allowed herself to feel it—the pull toward him that had been there for years.
She wasn’t sure when it had happened. The moment she realized she was in love with him wasn’t something that could be pinpointed—it was like watching a sunset, slow and inevitable, until one day it just was.
JJ caught her gaze again, and this time, she didn’t look away. His grin was still there, but it was softer now, like he could read something in her eyes, something unspoken.
“You’re not like the others, Y/N,” he said, voice teasing but warm. “Always gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you’re okay.”
Y/N laughed, a bit of tension easing from her shoulders. “I’m used to you watching out for me,” she teased, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Someone’s gotta.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little wider. “Guess that’s my job, huh?”
It was in these moments, these small gestures, where the depth of their friendship was made clear. The way he was always there, always protective, even when he didn’t need to be. And yet, there was always a distance, a barrier Y/N could never cross.
Kie’s laughter cut through the quiet between them, and JJ’s gaze shifted over to her. The same softness was there when he looked at her, and Y/N couldn’t help the quiet pang that lodged in her chest.
“You okay?” JJ’s voice pulled her back to the present, and she smiled, nodding.
“Yeah, just... tired,” she replied, her voice steady now, though her emotions were far from it.
“Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where I am,” he said, giving her a wink. “I’ll make sure you don’t pass out on me again.”
Y/N smiled, watching him go back to the group. But as she sat there, her hand resting over her chest, she realized that JJ had been there for her in a way no one else had. And even though the ache in her heart was still there, she knew one thing for sure: she would always be there for him, no matter what.
---
next up - rafe apologizing (but trust hes super nonchalant fr)
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winterarmyy · 3 days ago
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I Knew It Then
A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.
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Summary: If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?
Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader
Words: 4.8k++
Warnings: angsty, maybe a tad too angst. a bit fluffy, if you search for it, and everything in between. non-descriptive sex scene but definitely contain adult (18+) contents. so, reader discretion.
Inspiration: @buck-star asked in a community post, “The sentence is: 'And then we were standing in front of one another again…' How would you continue it?” and this is my answer.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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Bucky adjusted the sleeves of his jacket; a dark leather, matching the gloves he was wearing. Underneath was a charcoal coloured shirt; his pants was dark-wash jeans, frayed slightly at the edges. It was an effort to blend into the festive sea of people. Despite the spring air of Central Park, his style remained a mixture of shadowed past and muted present, a mix that barely fit in with the brightness of the day. 
The launch of the Avengers statues was a grand event; a reminder of battles fought, lives saved, a place for the public to show their gratitude and admiration. Honestly, in Bucky’s opinion, all of this was a little bit over the top. In which, Steve agreed. They both think that they were undeserving to be sculptured and displayed like this. 
Even the Avengers are human, excluding Thor, they were mortals; unfit to be worshipped as they are now. Yet, after being coaxed with quite a diplomatic, exaggerating speech about how ‘the people need a hero to look up to’, Steve ended up convinced. Not that it matters, but Stark was the one who gave that speech.
Nonetheless, Bucky couldn’t really object to the decision, but he did stated that he will not participate in the event with the rest of the team. And they can’t really do much about that, forcing him to will be equivalent to kidnapping and Bucky had literally filed a police report for it before. So, they won’t take their chances. 
The cheers and thundering of applause rippled through the park, filling every space with a strange blend of solemnity and celebration. Bucky lingered on the edge, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tensed beneath the weight of too many eyes while his own focused on his team on the make-shift stage near the statues. 
He preferred it here. No red carpets. No standing in front of flashing cameras with a smile that would never sit quite right on his lips.
With less aliens around and Hydra in hiding, this should have been a familiar scene; the Avengers posing and the people cheering. But for Bucky, the novelty had long worn off. The noise washed over him like waves lapping against a shore he couldn’t care to meet.
Shifting on his feet, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his gloves, as if the urge to retreat was creeping under his skin. The cheers, the bright flashes of cameras, all blended into a muffled hum that made him wonder how soon he could slip away unnoticed.
Until he saw her.
She stood beneath the shade of a blooming cherry tree, the soft pink petals floating down around her as if nature itself wanted to frame her as a living art. 
Y/N. 
Bucky's breath was caught somewhere between inhaling and exhaling. Her mere presence had left him frozen. Then, the noise of the crowd slowly fading, the applause turning duller as his heart pounded in his chest, each beat harder, louder, until it drowned out the world around him. For a few painful moments, he felt as if his heart might force its way free from his ribcage, breaking him apart in the process.
She wore that sundress again. The light fabric swayed gently with each breeze, caressing her figure, the pastel colour that reminded him of the flowers he used to get for her. It was the same dress she’d worn that day; the day he realised falling for her wasn't a choice but a reality that had already happened. He swallowed hard, memories surging in torrents. Her laughter echoed in his ears, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things that mattered to her. 
Now however, beneath the sweet sundress and that familiar grace, there was a darkness under her eyes. Shadows etched into her delicate skin, sadness lingering; still and silent, behind the gaze that once held nothing but warmth. Bucky's jaw tightened as he took it all in, every unspoken truth laid bare on her face. He knew why; he’d heard whispers through mutual acquaintances. About the heaviness she tried to mask, about the pain she tried to live through. 
Seeing it now, in the flesh, was so much worse.
It broke him. 
Again. His chest ached, a raw wound ripped within his chest; for every moment she suffered and every part of him that couldn’t fix it. Bucky wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if an invisible vine had him rooted on earth, willing him to witness the toll their separation had taken on her. How ironic, he thought bitterly. For someone once considered a ghost by the world, he was all too aware of how haunting it felt to see her pain in living colour.
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The bar had been crowded that night when they met, laughter and music clashing together in a storm of contagious intoxication. Bucky found his usual spot in the corner, however unusually alone this time. His shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket; his gloved hands nursed a drink he wasn’t truly interested in. He was simply another brooding man in a bar, trying to swallow his own bitterness, trying to forget. Elena’s words, his ex’s words, echoed in his mind; taunting and cold, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.
“Mind if I sit?”
Her voice cut through the noise. He’d looked up, barely masking his surprise. The woman standing before him was... a force of nature. She didn’t wait for his permission and slid into the seat beside him, a confident smile tugging at her lips. 
She was so bright, so unapologetically there. 
It almost felt disorienting. Her eyes sparkled like she’d already decided he was interesting and wasn’t about to change her mind. “You always brood like this, or is it a special occasion?” she teased, tilting her head.
“Special occasion,” he replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. “Guess I’m lucky, huh?”
She laughed, loud and unfiltered, drawing curious looks. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass to him as if they were old friends sharing a private joke.
Bucky fought to suppress the twitch of his lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. “What brings you to this fine establishment?” he asked, his voice flat but not harsh. “Looking to rescue sad souls like me?”
“Rescue?” She leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Please. I’m here for the entertainment value.”
“Brutal,” he said, but he couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth lifted. A real smile was threatening to form.
Y/N, as she introduced herself a few moments later, was a whirlwind of honesty and charm. She spoke without hesitation, as if every thought had a right to be voiced. She teased him about the gloves he refused to take off, made a biting but hilarious comment about her friend’s taste in men as she watched her and the man grinding it on the dance floor, and then, out of nowhere, zeroed in on him.
She gestured to his drink. “Let me guess. Your ex. She, or he, I don’t judge…” A tiniest smile curved on the corner of his lips. “She.” he clarified which was replied with a glint of interest in Y/N’s eyes. She nodded, “Okay, she left you for someone who didn’t know how to brood so attractively.”
Bucky choked on his drink, laughter erupting before he could help himself. It was warm and a little bashful, completely genuine. He hadn’t laughed like that in... he couldn’t remember how long.
Y/N was not expecting much tonight. She was literally dragged by her friends to ’go out, meet people, get laid’. Truthfully, she wasn’t really expecting anything more than a few hours of banter and maybe some fleeting connection, just enough to make her smile. Witty remarks, a few drinks, teasing anyone interesting enough to engage; that was her aim. 
But when she saw him, brooding in his corner, a storm trapped beneath layers of leather and cold eyes, curiosity overtook reason. She wanted to know if he would entertain her. 
And he did.
Bucky or as he introduced himself, James, was sarcasm wrapped in shadows, his words carrying a sharpness that wasn’t meant to hurt, just to deflect. She found it oddly endearing, a defence mechanism she recognized all too well. She wanted to pull more from him, so she leaned in, laughed too loudly, pressed buttons she guessed would make him react. 
At first, it was just fun.
But then he smiled. God, when he smiled, her world tilted; much against her will too. It was like the first hint of sunlight breaking through a dense, dark cloud. His laughter was warm and unpracticed, spilling out of him as if it surprised him too. The moment stretched, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough. 
Her heart momentarily shuddered. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, blooming a soft pink she couldn’t hide. So, she covered it with more wit, more charm, desperate to keep that smile there a second longer.
“I’m kidding. Kind of,” she said, eyes softening as she studied him. “But seriously, imagine missing out on you. That’s just sad at this point.”
But underneath the humour, there was a flutter of something much profound. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Her heartbeat raced and she felt exposed. How ridiculous, she thought, to be undone by a smile; a real one, genuine and imperfect, just as raw as her own attempt to draw it out.
The concept of time blurred after that. Drinks flowed, words tumbled out like secrets they didn’t know they were sharing. Banter turned into stories, laughter into pauses that spoke louder than the music blaring around them. At some point, she reached for his hand, not caring that it was gloved or why. Her fingers lingered, hesitant for half a breath, before resting there as if they’d been doing so for years. 
The air thickened and inches shrink.
When he kissed her, she found herself kissing him back with a need she hadn’t recognized before. It wasn’t about filling the void; at least, not only that. It was about the way he leaned into her touch, how he kissed like it was the last act that could hold him together. It was raw and open and imperfect and she was high on it.
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Despite the fleeting, breath-stealing kisses they shared prior, Bucky had only meant to see her safely to her home. That was the plan, the line he swore he wouldn’t cross. But when her lips met his again just outside her apartment, everything unravelled. Her kiss was insistent, needy in a way that mirrored the ache deep inside him. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them, shutting out the world and any remnants of restraint he had left.
They stumbled to the bed, still fully dressed, every touch and kiss growing more urgent. Her hands found the edges of his jacket, fingers seeking to peel it away. But when she tugged, he pulled back, his breaths ragged. “Wait,” he murmured, eyes cast down. His hesitation was a stark contrast to the flames between them moments before.
She paused immediately, her gaze softening. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard but unwilling to let him slip away either.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, the words thick, heavy.
A crease formed between her brows. “What? Your name is not James?”
The question, so genuine and earnest, pulled a laugh from him; short, almost incredulous. “No. I am James, but…” He ran a gloved hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes.
“But…?” she prompted, leaning in, her attention unwavering.
“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, each syllable weighted.
For a moment, she was silent. He could see her piecing it together, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then understanding dawned, slow and certain. “You’re…” she began, just as he said, “The Winter Soldier.” But what came from her lips was, “The Avenger.”
They stared at each other, the tension snapping into something fragile, almost surreal. “What?” they both said in unison, the word a mix of disbelief and irony. 
The absurdity of it cracked something inside him, and he laughed; a real, deep laugh that felt like a release. She joined him, their laughter intertwining in a way that felt like a mutual understanding. At the moment, Bucky realised that she didn’t flinch or shrink back. She met him where he was, without hesitation. He felt a pull; unsettling but oddly comforting; and, for a split second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.
The humour melted into something more intense as she leaned closer, her hands found his again. “I want this, James,” she whispered, peeling away his glove. She cupped his cool, metal hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. The contrast of warmth against vibranium made his chest tighten. “I want you.” she spoke almost breathlessly; her eyes gazed up at him with an endearing plea.
His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something much softer, “I want you too,” he said, his voice low, unguarded.
They moved together, shedding barriers with every kiss and touch. When their clothes finally fell away, they explored each other with as much urgency and wonder. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, almost desperate. He wanted to memorise her reactions. He wanted to give as much as he could.
It was raw and consuming, a night spent discovering each other. There was nothing mechanical, nothing detached. For hours, it was just them, bodies moving in unison and their moans and groans of pleasure mingling in a symphony that can challenge a siren’s song.
He found himself lost in her, in the way her skin felt beneath his, in the way she moaned for him. He couldn’t hold back, not when she responded to him with such hunger, her body moving against his with a need that matched his own. 
Every touch felt like a revelation, a new discovery, and he was pulled deeper into her, into the warmth and the rawness of the moment. It was as if time itself had stopped, and all that mattered was the heat of their connection.
When morning came, the light creeping in through the blinds, they lay bashfully, tangled in the sheets. For a few moments, there was only silence, a comfortable quiet punctuated by the slow return of reality. He turned to her, the words were heavy, he knew it, but he continued, “I’m not ready for… anything serious,” he admitted, hating the way it sounded, but knowing he owed her the truth.
She met his gaze, her expression soft and understanding. “That’s okay,” she said. “We don’t need to label it. It can be what it is.”
“Casual?” he asked, a hint of humour back in his voice.
She smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Casual.”
They both laughed, the sound soft and real. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough.
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The next few months, their ‘casual’ arrangement became something she thought about far too often and yet tried to pretend wasn’t pressing too deep. The sex was undeniably great, almost maddeningly so. It wasn’t just the way he touched her, though that alone was enough to steal her breath; the careful, deliberate caresses that made her feel cherished and desired all at once. 
It was the way he explored her as if every inch of her, the weight of his attention, the way he moved with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or devour her. And maybe that was why it was so intoxicating; because she was falling for him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was everything in between. She fell for the way he could be painfully serious one moment and then crack the most unexpected joke, a hint of dry humour lighting up his eyes. She fell for the way he made sure her tea was always brewed just the way she liked, even though he claimed to be terrible at domestic things. 
She fell for his unspoken kindness; the way he would slip a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch, or his habit of standing protectively between her and crowded places without even thinking about it. It was all so subtle, so Bucky, and it deteriorated her defences bit by bit.
And Bucky on the other hand, tried not to let himself be too vulnerable around her. But Y/N had a warmth that made it hard for him to stay closed off. She didn’t push; she was just; a steady, comforting presence that felt like safety. Sometimes, without meaning to, he’d spill pieces of himself. 
Like the night he told her about Elena; the betrayal, the gaslighting on how she cheated on him because of him; it was his trauma and depression that had driven her away. As if she was trying to make it worse, as if she had a vendetta to isolate him from everyone else. 
And Y/N had listened without judgement, her eyes soft with compassion. “That’s not on you,” she had whispered, her hand covering his. “She was the problem, not you.” When the weight of his past grew too heavy, she was there.
And when she opened up about her own scars; the ex who wouldn’t leave her alone, the fear that lingered in the shadows; Bucky listened, fierce protectiveness hardening his features. That night, instead of touching each other’s body, they caressed each other’s innermost scars. They’d talk late into the night; their words heavy, but never too much for the other to bear.
And ever since their dynamic was a shifting dance, effortlessly dirty and playful one minute, his lips teasing at her neck, their words to each other were dripping with sin. The next, they’d be soft and tender, his forehead pressed to hers as they simply breathed together. And then there were the quiet, deep moments; when silence spoke more than words, and they found comfort just in being close, in the simple act of not being alone. 
It was everything, all tangled together, and it made it so easy, too damn easy, to fall in love with him. She knew she shouldn’t, but with Bucky, it felt inevitable.
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Then, one in those blissful days, after another night of incredible sex, Bucky laid beside her, his chest still heavy with the aftermath of their intimacy. His eyes traced the soft curves of her form as she rested, her skin glowing in the dim light. 
She looked almost ethereal; untouchable, like something too perfect for him. The weight of her presence next to him was both comforting and painful, tightening his chest with a longing he couldn’t name. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat, his voice rough when he finally spoke, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I’m going back to Elena,” he confessed, the statement hanging heavily in the air. 
For a moment, there was something in his eyes; a flicker of hesitation, of conflict, as if he desperately wanted to hold onto what they had, as if saying the words was a battle he was losing with every breath. 
But whatever war raged within him never fully translated in the way she saw him. To Y/N, his words felt resolute, laced with a kind of tenderness that made it hurt even more. He seemed sorry; deeply, genuinely. But the weight of his decision pressed down between them, undeniable.
She went still for a moment and he could feel the tension radiating from her. The way her body seemed to freeze, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t respond at first, her gaze distant, focusing somewhere far away as though she needed a moment to process. Bucky’s chest felt heavy with the weight of his own words, the urge to take them back gnawing at him. 
Yet he kept his expression neutral, as if none of this hurt him. He needed to see this through, even if every second felt like he was tearing himself apart. “This…being here with you, touching you like this… this will be the last time,” he added, the sound of his voice was low but remained adamant.
Y/N had always known, somewhere deep down, that this day would come. They had both agreed that what they had was casual, temporary, nothing more than a passing thing. They had agreed their connection was fleeting; simply a series of borrowed moments. But even as she tried to convince herself it was fine, she knew better. 
Nothing about what they shared was truly casual. They’d been there for each other in ways no one else had. When the world had been cruel to him, scrutinising him for his past as the Winter Soldier, she’d been his quiet strength, the one who never judged him, never flinched. And when her own demons resurfaced, casting shadows over her life; he’d been the one there, standing between her and her doom. He had been her rock, just as she had been his. 
They were each other's strength, each other's solace.
'Has it ever really been casual?' But she couldn’t voice those thoughts. She wouldn’t burden him with her feelings when he already carried so much of his own. She wouldn’t beg for more than he could offer. 
With a soft breath, she forced herself to smile, her fingers brushing over his cheek, committing every moment to memory before it slipped away. “Will this make you happy?” she asked, her voice steady, though pain lingered beneath the surface.
Bucky’s heart twisted, but he nodded, the lie coming too easily. “Yes,” he said, his voice lacking conviction even as he tried to seem sure. He averted his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see past the facade.
Her smile wavered, but she fought to hold it in place. She wanted to show him that she was fine, that she wasn’t falling apart. But as she pressed her smile into place, a single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but it was already there; a silent confession of the pain he couldn’t see.
“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” she whispered, barely audible.
She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. And then she kissed him; softly, deeply, as if it would be their last.
Because, in this moment, it felt like it was.
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The days blurred into weeks, and then months, each one dragging by with a dull ache that Y/N couldn’t shake. She buried herself in work, refusing to let her mind linger on what she’d lost. When that wasn't enough, she picked up freelance gigs; anything that kept her mind too occupied even thought about pain and the aching emptiness Bucky’s absence had left behind. 
It was easier that way; easier to drown in deadlines and endless to-do lists than to confront the hollowness. And through all this time, there were not a single call, or texts from Bucky. Just silence. Rationally, she knew it was for the best. He was a hero, after all; his life pulled him in a thousand different directions. And she told herself she was fine.
But late at night, when the world grew quiet, she could still feel it; the loss that crept into her bones and refused to let go. Most of the time, she'd catch herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were his whole world, even if just for a moment. She tried to shake it off, to convince herself that it was all just an illusion, but the hole in her chest ached too deeply to ignore.
Time passed. The headlines told of his deeds; how he saved countless lives, how the public finally began to accept him, to see him not just as a relic of violence and pain, but as a hero. She should’ve felt proud. Maybe, on some level, she did. But every article, every broadcast, every mention of him only twisted the knife deeper. 
At times, she’d pause whatever she was doing when his name flashed across the screen. It was a reflex, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach for something she could never have. She’d feel her chest tighten, her emotions were a blend of pride and pain. Why did she feel like this, like she wasn’t needed, like she was somehow unwanted by the man who had once looked at her like she was everything?
Even then, she couldn’t help but feel proud. No matter how much it hurts, she was happy for him. She remembered the sleepless nights when his past came alive in nightmares; when he’d thrash and murmur apologies with a voice cracked by guilt. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms as he clung to her in the dark, his breath shuddering against her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” The memory of it made her chest ache; the rawness of his pain had always cut her deep, but it had also made her want to be his safe place, his haven.
She thought of those nights often. The way he’d hold her as if she were a shield against the ghosts that hunted him, how he’d bury his face in her shoulder to block out the world’s judgement. She’d whispered reassurances, stroked his hair, and wished she could take away every ounce of his pain. Seeing him now, standing tall, saving lives, and slowly being accepted by the world; it filled her with a bittersweet pride. 
He deserved every bit of recognition, every chance to rebuild himself.
But the cost of that pride was the deep loneliness that came with it; the reminder that he was out there saving the world while she was left to save herself from missing him. She wanted to be enough, to be the one he leaned on, but it was clear now that his path led somewhere she couldn’t follow. So she pushed forward, forced herself to be strong, and told herself that being happy for him was enough.
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When the crowd at the Central Park continued to roar with excitement, time seemed like it stopped for Bucky and Y/N. And then they were standing in front of one another again, the air between them held a weight, as if every word left unspoken all those nights was pressing against the space between them. Bucky’s eyes flickered; momentarily shocked, yet he didn’t falter. 
Even then, Y/N saw it. She saw the look in his eyes that she knew too well, the look he had when it was just them, wrapped up in stolen hours that no one knew about. She forced a smile, warm and soft, the very same that she used to give him in those silent times, when their skins were pressed against each other, and everything else didn't matter. 
His heart ached with a need he thought he’d buried. He thought he had let her go. He kept telling himself he was not in love, that she was just someone to keep his bed warm, to fill the empty space his past had left behind. At least, that was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra meant to dull the edges of the truth.
But deep down, he knew it was a lie; a desperate deception crafted to shield him from the vulnerability clawing at his walls. He was not fooling anyone, not himself at least. Each night he spent denying the way his pulse quickened at the thought of her touch, each time he claimed he felt nothing, the thin layer of defence cracked beneath the weight of untold longing. It was easier to lie, to pretend he didn’t care, than to face the reality that she had carved her place inside him, far deeper than he wanted to admit.
Now, seeing her again, smiling at him as if it didn't shatter her heart when he left, it was like he’d been hollowed out. 
And the time that seemingly stopped, abruptly resumed to its pace when they walked past each other. No words crossed their lips, but their eyes spoke a language that was theirs alone; a language that carried echoes of every touch, every laugh, every shared moment.
‘I miss you,’ their gazes whispered, even as the distance between them widened with each step.
They kept walking.
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That night, Bucky found himself in front of her apartment. When she opened the door, it was as if she was expecting someone. Not him, but someone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there, broad shoulders taut and expression unreadable. 
For a second, neither of them spoke. The sight of her; dressed in a fitted dress that draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every line and curve, stole the air from his lungs. It was the kind of dress she used to wear when they’d go out on a date, the kind that never failed to send his thoughts swirling in the gutter. No thoughts, just lust. 
She looked stunning. Ethereal even. But, painfully out of reach.
Y/N blinked. Shock, confusion, and hurt flashing in her eyes, as if the memories of what they’d had; and how it ended, came crashing back all at once. “Hey… James. What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tight and Bucky was never used to it.
He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to her lips and lingering there longer than he intended. “Out for a date?” he murmured, evading her question, the words tasting like lead.
“Yeah…Kind of.” she replied, guarded. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low rasp. “Can I come in?”
She studied him warily, the hurt in her eyes morphing into something sharper. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, James.”
“Please,” he said, and the desperation in his tone softened her resolve just enough. She stepped aside reluctantly. “You gotta be quick,” she said, almost dismissively. “Josh is on the way.”
The mention of another man’s name was like a knife twisting in his chest. Bucky forced himself to stay still, to not let his expression betray him, but inside, he felt raw, the bitterness coiling deep.
Once inside, she crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier between them. “Talk,” she said flatly.
He paced, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t real,” he started, voice thick. “Me and Elena getting back together; it was a mission. She was suspected of being a mole.” he paused as he studied her reaction, ” We couldn’t risk telling you. We had to make it look real. ”
She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to grasp the whirlwind of his sudden appearance. “You’re here for that? To explain yourself?” There was incredulity in her voice, mingled with raw, exhausted pain that came from reopening old wounds.
“Yes.” Bucky’s voice was firm but edged with something close to desperation. “We managed to capture her.” He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “We had to keep the mission under wraps, Y/N. We couldn’t risk word getting out… not after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. We couldn’t have another Hydra situation, or anything that even looked like it.”
He paused, the tension in his jaw tightening. “It turns out her plan was to isolate me. To make me even more vulnerable than I already am, before they…” His words faltered, heavy and incomplete, as if finishing the sentence would make it all too real. 
But he didn’t need to say more. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the realisation clear in her expression. She was smart; too smart not to piece it together. She knew what Bucky feared most. He’d be dragged back into Hydra’s grasp, or worse, used as a pawn by some other twisted organisation. 
It was a fate too cruel to name, and he could see in her eyes that she already understood.
Her brow furrowed, processing everything Bucky had explained thus far. A mixture of confusion and anger flitting across her features. “So that was it?” she demanded. “I was just collateral damage?”
“No,” he said quickly, the word breaking from him like a plea. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to protect you. We all did.” He hesitated, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I did.”
She scoffed, a bitter edge cutting through her words. “Unbelievable. I smiled at you one time, James—one time—and you think you can just come back into my life like you own it?”
The accusation hung between them, and the depth of her frustration was like a dam bursting. He recoiled slightly, horrified by the thought that he’d hurt her so deeply. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want to just—”
She cut him off with a sharp, biting word. “Bullshit!” The accusation hit him like a physical blow, but he pressed on, desperation bleeding into his tone. “I just wanted to tell you the truth,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. “That it was all fake.”
“Fake?” She echoed the word with a harsh, bitter laugh that rang with disbelief. It stung him, sharp as a slap across the face. “It looked pretty damn real to me, James. You don’t think I saw the pictures? The headlines? How you were with her?”
“It was a cover, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice.”
Her eyes flashed, anger and betrayal burning bright. She took a step toward him, as if the weight of her hurt couldn’t be contained. “You didn’t have a choice? You had a choice when you came to me, when you told me it was over. When you ripped my heart out, did you have a choice then?”
Bucky flinched, the impact of her words like a physical blow, but he held his ground. “I was trying to protect you.”
“By hurting me?” Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. “By tearing me apart?”
Silence crashed over them, heavy and suffocating. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged. “By leaving me behind?” she whispered, her words dripping with the weight of every unspoken wound. “By pretending like what we had meant nothing?”
He stepped closer, the space between them suffocating and electric. “It wasn’t nothing,” he said, his voice quivering. “It was everything. You were everything.”
She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I don’t believe you.”
With a trembling hand, Bucky reached for her face, cupping her cheeks as though she were something fragile. His thumb brushed away her tears, his touch reverent, aching. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, the confession breaking through the dam of his restraint. “From the start, when we laughed about that ridiculous introduction; me, calling myself the Winter Soldier and you insisting I was an Avenger—I knew it then.”
He swallowed hard, blinking through tears. “But it wasn’t just that. It was how you saw me; not the killer, not the broken man, but me. The way you’d smile at me, like I was worth something. The nights you stayed awake, holding me when I couldn’t breathe, when the nightmares felt too real. The way you’d whisper that I wasn’t alone. No one ever did that for me. No one.”
He paused, the rawness in his expression deepening. “I knew it was too late when I realized I’d been in love with you for a while. It hit me that day at Sally’s, remember?” His voice grew softer, distant with memory. “It was spring. You wore that sundress you bragged about getting for next to nothing at a thrift store. The sunlight made your hair glow, and you laughed at something ridiculous; a dog chasing bubbles, I think. I couldn’t stop looking at you. It wasn’t just the dress or the moment. It was the way you made everything feel… lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like the past didn’t own me.”
He let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing along her jawline. “I realized then that I was in deep. That it was more than just a moment. And it terrified me, because I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin you.” His voice cracked, weighted with a mix of love and regret.
His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, the tears spilling over. “It’s the way you laugh, the way you fight for everyone you care about. How you make me feel like I’m more than my past… God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Even if it meant pushing you away. But it killed me, Y/N. Every day.”
She stared at him, stunned and raw, her own tears falling. His hands cradled her face gently, his touch trembling. “I love you,” he said again, more desperately. “I love you for every moment you gave me hope when I thought I couldn’t be saved. I love you for being there, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t want to lose you again.”
He leaned in, their faces inches apart, his tears mixing with hers as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, feeling the sincerity in every broken syllable. For a heartbeat, it seemed she would turn away. But then, her voice cracked, trembling with everything she’d buried. “I love you too,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I never stopped.”
His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling, raw and vulnerable. Slowly, their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that spoke of everything they had denied and everything they still longed for. In each other’s touch, everything else faded, leaving only the truth between them.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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A/N: i was planning to do a descriptive smut scene at first, but after piecing everything from my draft and re-reading the overall flow, i don't think it's suitable to include it in this. perhaps another time, a side/extra story maybe. i hope y'all okay with that and enjoy your reading 🥺
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dollyhyuckii · 15 hours ago
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FOR YOU, I’LL WAIT-SEUNGCHEOL ⋆୨୧˚
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seungcheol!xfem!reader ⋆୨୧˚ 𝘄𝗰-1.7𝗸⋆୨୧˚
cw-a bit suggestive, everything is in lowercase ⋆୨୧˚ an-reblogs and feedback help!!, dividers are not mine credits at the end!! ⋆୨୧˚ seventeen master list here ⋆୨୧˚
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the door clicked open, and he heard your footsteps in the hallway. you were home late, a little unsteady, and when he glanced up from the couch, he saw you standing in the doorway, your cheeks flushed and eyes a little hazy. you had that mischievous smile on your face, the one that always made his heart beat a little faster. you swayed as you stepped forward, your purse slipping off your shoulder and landing with a soft thud by the door.
“there you are,” you murmured, a hint of a slur in your voice as you made your way toward him, reaching out as if you couldn’t wait to be in his arms. he caught you, steadying you as you stumbled forward, and you let out a soft giggle, leaning heavily against him.
“hey, you,” he greeted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “looks like my baby had a fun night.”
you pouted, your fingers tugging at his shirt. “missed you,” you mumbled, your voice a mix of need and playfulness. “didn’t wanna be there without you. i need you.”
he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you to keep you steady. “you’ve been drinking, sunshine,” he said gently, his tone light but cautious. “a little too much, maybe?”
you shook your head, your expression growing more determined as you slid your arms around his neck. “i’m fine,” you insisted, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his neck in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. “come on baby.., your gonna make me wait. i want you so bad right now.”
he exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to pull you closer, to give in to the way you were looking at him. as much as he wanted you, he knew it wasn’t right. you were drunk, and he didn’t want to do anything you might regret or feel uncomfortable with later.
“sunshine i need you to listen to me,” he said softly, cupping your face in his hands and gently lifting your head so you would look at him. “i want you too, trust me. but not like this. you’ve had a lot to drink, and I’m not going to do anything that you might regret.”
your expression shifted, a mixture of frustration and hurt flashing in your eyes. “ cheol why are you being so difficult?” you whined, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “i know what i want. and right now, i want you.”
he couldn’t help but smile your determination. you could be so stubborn sometimes, and he loved that about you. but tonight, he needed to be the strong one.
“i know, baby,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “but let’s just take it slow, alright? i don’t want you to do anything you’re not sure about.”
you huffed, your pout returning as you leaned into him again, resting your head on his shoulder. “you’re trying to kill me,” you muttered, sounding both frustrated and resigned. “as much as i want you right now, you’re making it so hard.”
he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “trust me, it’s not easy for me either sunshine,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “but we’re both going to have to be patient okay baby?.”
you let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest as you settled into his embrace. despite your initial frustration, you seemed to relax, and he could feel you starting to lean into his warmth, your breathing slowing as the night wore on.
he held you close as you nestled into his arms, your face buried against his chest. he could still hear your soft, whiny murmurs about how much you wanted him, how you didn’t understand why he was holding back. but he just smiled and continued to gently brush his fingers through your hair, calming you with his steady presence.
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“let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” he whispered softly. “a nice bath might help you feel better.”
you looked up at him, a little pout still lingering on your lips. “i don’t need a bath,” you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction. you swayed slightly as you tried to stand on your own, and he quickly steadied you, guiding you toward the bathroom with a gentle hand on your back.
“yes, you do,” he said with a small laugh. “come on, you’ll feel a lot better afterward.”
he helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub, then turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. as the tub filled, he turned back to you, watching as you tried to kick off your shoes, only for one of them to get stuck halfway. you let out a frustrated huff, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.
“here, let me help baby,” he said, crouching down to untangle your foot from the strap. you grumbled softly, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as he slid the shoes off your feet and set them aside. you watched him with a half-lidded gaze, a lazy smile tugging at your lips.
“you’re too good to me,” you murmured, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair. “i don’t deserve you.”
you chuckled, shaking his head as he gently took your hands in his. “you deserve every bit of it, angel. now, arms up.”
you lifted your arms obediently, allowing him to pull your shirt over your head and fold it neatly on the counter. you shivered slightly as the cool air hit your skin, and he quickly wrapped a towel around your shoulders to keep you warm as he helped you out of the rest of your clothes.
once you were undressed, he held your hand, steadying you as you stepped into the warm water. you let out a soft sigh as you sank into the bath, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. he watched you for a moment, a tender smile on his face as he took in the way your eyes fluttered shut, your head resting against the edge of the tub.
“feel good?” he asked, kneeling beside the tub and brushing a damp strand of hair from your face.
you opened your eyes, giving him a lazy smile. “mmm… so good,” you murmured, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his. “but it’d be better if you were in here with me.”
seungcheol laughed softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “nice try sunshine,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone. “but tonight’s all about taking care of you.”
yoy pouted, letting out a little whine. “you’re no fun.”
“not tonight,” he said, dipping a washcloth into the water and gently running it over your shoulders. “but i think you’ll thank me in the morning.”
you closed your eyes, relaxing under his touch as he carefully washed you, his movements slow and gentle. he took his time, making sure you were comfortable and relaxed, and you seemed to melt under his care, your complaints and stubbornness gradually fading.
when he finished, he reached for a large, fluffy towel and helped you stand, wrapping you up and holding you steady as you stepped out of the tub. you leaned against him, a soft, contented sigh escaping your lips as he dried you off, his hands moving carefully over your shoulders and down your arms.
“alright, let’s get you dried off and into bed,” he murmured, guiding you back into the bedroom and sitting you down on the edge of the bed.
you let out a little huff, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “only if you promise to stay with me.”
he chuckled, reaching for the blow dryer on the dresser. “of course I’ll stay,” he said, plugging in the dryer and turning it on. he gently lifted your hair, working his fingers through the damp strands as he dried them. you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch with a small smile.
the warmth from the dryer was soothing, and you felt yourself growing drowsier as he continued to brush and dry your hair with slow, gentle movements. he worked in silence, his touch so tender and patient that you could hardly keep your eyes open. by the time he finished, your hair was soft and dry, falling in gentle waves around your face.
“there we go baby,” he murmured, setting the dryer aside and brushing a final strand of hair from your cheek. “feeling a little better?”
you nodded, giving him a sleepy smile. “yeah… thank you,” you mumbled, your voice soft and a little slurred. “you always take such good care of me.”
he smiled, reaching for a comfortable, oversized t-shirt from your drawer. “let’s get you dressed, alright?”
you nodded, lifting your arms as he helped you into the shirt, the fabric falling loosely around your shoulders. you giggled softly, your eyes shining as you looked up at him.
“you’re so sweet to me,” you murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”
he. chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “you don’t have to worry about that,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you let out a soft sigh, snuggling against him as he carefully guided you under the blankets. once you were settled, he climbed into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. you let out a contented hum, resting your head on his chest as you nuzzled closer.
“promise you’ll stay here all night?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
he tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “i promise,” he murmured. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”
you smiled, your eyes growing heavy as sleep began to pull you under. and as you drifted off, you felt a warmth and comfort you never known before, a sense of safety and love that wrapped around you like a blanket. you knew, deep down, that he was someone you could trust completely, someone who would always put you first.
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⋆୨୧˚ pink divider credits-@h-aewo
⋆୨୧˚white star divider credits-@graphicstorage
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skzdreamer13 · 3 days ago
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I Won't Let You Go
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Hyunjin Drabble
Hyunjin X Reader
Just had some random thoughts, wrote it down and it became a story.
18+ MDNI!!
Warnings: Unprotected Sex, oral (M receiving), Creampie
Notes: Romantic and Fluffy, aftercare. Kind of long sorry
Word count - almost 1.7k
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The glow of the TV illuminates the space around you in the late night hour. The light from the en-suite bathroom gives a dull glow into the bedroom, the water in the sink background ambience to the low volume of the movie you're not paying full attention to.
The faucet squeaks as Hyunjin shuts the water off, finally done with his nightly routine and ready to join you in bed. He shuts the bathroom light off as he walks into the bedroom. His features barely visible with only the dim glow of the TV.
He pulls back the comforter and slips in beside you as you roll onto your side with your back facing him and wiggle a little. A giggle escapes your mouth as he slinks his arm around your waist and pulls your body flush to him. The warmth of his body encapsulates you, his breathing warm on your neck as you lean your body further into his.
“It's good to be home.” He says softly and leaves a gentle whisper of a kiss on the back of your neck settling his body against yours.
He’s been gone for almost two weeks, he's come and gone here and there, mostly to grab some food or sleep. But with tour, he's out practicing all day or away for a show and then back for a few days only before leaving again. And when he is home he’s busy, in the studio dancing or recording or shooting videos and episodes for his fans.
Tour season is rough. But you knew what came with his job, how frequently or infrequently you’d see each other. That didn't make you miss him any less. Still you love his dedication to his fans and how much they mean to him.
But you can't complain as he is going to be home for a whole week before the next time he flies off, and you're looking forward to spending as much time as you reasonably can with him.
“I’ve missed you so much.” You whisper and curl up slightly, letting his warmth embrace you. The bed has been so empty and lonely without him.
“You have me.” He whispers his breath ghosting the back of your neck as you feel it, his cock grows hard against your ass as you press your body to his.
The idea of being close with him is everything to you. You want to feel him flush against your skin, all around you and inside you. The thought causes heat to spread between your thighs.
You grab his hand that has been politely resting on your stomach, and bring it up to cup one of your breasts. A sigh leaves his mouth and you feel his erection grow harder at the initiation on your part.
He palms your breasts under your shirt before he removes himself from you and pulls your pajamas off slowly, letting his fingers graze your skin as he lifts your shirt and pulls down your pants and underwear.
He works slowly, extending the moment, wanting them to last as long as possible. As though he has nowhere better to be than in this bed, between the sheets with you.
He lingers above you as he removes his own clothes. His shirt coming off first and you bring your hands up to grace the strong muscles that he hides, his abdomen flexing under your fingertips.
He smiles down at you, not a cocky smirk but a loving smile, an indication of how much he loves when you admire him.
He moves to pull his pants off and you stop him, your hand coming up to rest on his as you halt his movement.
“Let me.” You bring a hand to his bare chest to gently push him down to lay flat on his back. Your hands come to the waistband of his sleep pants and you pull them down, he lifts his hips up slightly to help you.
His cock, finally released from its confinement, falls free and slaps into his belly. Your mouth waters as you wrap your fingers around the base of him. He can't take his eyes off of you as your tongue juts out and you circle the tip of his cock testing his precum with the motion. A sigh leaves his lips as the contract and you slowly wrap your lips around the head of his cock and push past your lips until your nose is flat against his skin and his tip is hitting the back of your throat.
A groan leaves his plump lips as he brings his hand up to tangle his fingers into your hair as you hollow out your cheeks and glide your mouth up to his tip, swirling your tongue, before sinking back down.
“Holy Fuck-” he whispers as you continue your motions and he cuts himself off with a moan. You watch him through your eyelashes as he loses himself in the feeling of your mouth. His head is thrown back, his other hand is fisted in the sheets, his breathing is ragged as you pick up your pace.
You bring your head up and off him with a small ‘pop’, smirk gracing your lips as you love how easy it is for you to drive him mad.
He comes up onto his elbows and pulls you to him, connecting your lips in a heated, desperate kiss.
His tongue slips past your lips and your tongues taste one another, saliva mixing as he tastes himself on you and it drives him crazy.
He disconnects your lips and lays you down on your back, as you spread your legs for him. He kneels between your legs, one hand on your thigh as you wrap your legs around his waist eager to feel him inside you.
Your eyes never leave each others as he reaches down and lets his fingers slide between your folds. A whiny moan escapes you as he brings his bottom lip between his teeth to gnaw on it as long slender fingers slip past your entrance and push inside your walls.
Your hips jut up as he fingers you slowly, his hands quickly becoming slick with your arousal. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at an excruciatingly slow pace and your walls are instinctively clenching, dying for more.
“More, Hyunjin please.” You whine eyebrows furrowing as you wish for more friction.
Unceremoniously he pulls his fingers out of you and replaces them with his cock slipping past your entrance with ease. The stretch he provides is unexpected but welcome as you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in deeper until he is seated in you completely.
You both moan out. One of his hands comes up to caress your cheek as he plants a soft, heated kiss on your lips. You relish in how gentle he is with you, kissing him back, feeling the soft plush of his lips on yours, the way his heavy breathing tickles your skin. Then as he breaks your kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, as he pulls his hips back, pulling his length out of you almost the whole way before sliding back between the caress of your warmth.
His movements are slow, dragging out each thrust as your walls suck him in and cover his cock in your slick. Your hands are in his long hair at the base of his neck, his dark brown eyes filled with love as he continues to move in you. The emotions you’re both riding are intense and you know how much he’s missed you, as you’ve missed him. This isn’t Sex for the sake of it, this is love.
He peppers kisses across your cheeks, jaw and neck, soft groans and moans leaving both of your mouths with every movement of his hips.
“I’ve missed you so much. I love you so much.” His voice muffled and husky as he whispers into the skin of your neck as he leaves kisses and nibbles at your skin, the movement of his hips losing their grace. His words make your heart swell and your walls are unintentionally pulsing around his length.
His pace has quickened as he snaps his hips to yours, sounds of skin lightly slapping skin fills the room to join with the background sounds of the TV that is still playing and the heavy breathing you’re both releasing.
With a few more movements he is stilling. Trembling as he holds his weight over you as he fills you with his release, soft moans leaving his lips. Your orgasm finds you as well, as wave after wave of pleasure shudders down your body, through your skin, your walls pulsing as your head digs deep into the pillow under your head. He kisses your collarbones and shoulders as you let the pleasure claim you, enjoying the feel of each wave washing over your skin.
You both lay there, his body draped over you, his cock now soft inside you as his fingers dance up and down the skin of your arms in gentle soothing motions. Both of your breathing have returned to normal as he peels himself from you.
He leaves and comes back with a washcloth, cleaning both of you up. Both of you decide to stay undressed, wanting to be as close to each other as possible, not being able to get enough of one another.
He slides back into bed under the comforter and you lay your head on his chest. The movie that was originally playing has ended and a different one is playing now. He strokes your hair as you nustle in close to him, letting his scent engulf you as your eyes grow heavy.
“I love you so much, You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” you say softly, word slurring slightly with sleep.
“I’m home now.” He says softly as his lips press to the top of your head and your eyes shut and sleep takes you in the arms of the man you love most. It’s been awhile since you’ve fallen asleep this easily.
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Masterlist
Request Box
18+ Tag List
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Tag List
@intrikatie @juskz @stolasisyourparent @pixie0627 @paperclip-skz @yaorzu-blog @velvetmoonlght @jennibahng
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper
part 3: the last day of investigation
previous part here
epilogue here
in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town.
tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mentall illness
contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn
words: 9 k....i'm insane, i'm aware
Your dad was the one who managed to explain everything to you.
Once, you hated the coldness he exuded. Everything he said seemed so devoid of emotion, as if he didn't have any at all. Probably, if he had ever tried to say "I love you," those words would have gotten stuck in his throat, causing choking and death.
At that moment, you appreciated it for the first time. He told you how your mom had found Jeremy in the bathtub, the water completely stained with blood. If an outsider had heard it, they would have thought he was talking about some stranger's child, not his own son, so composed he sounded. But you heard all the tiny breaks in his voice, the pauses to swallow saliva that slowly dripped down his throat.
You stood with your back against the door, the phone slipping from your numb hand.
For a moment, you felt simply empty. Without feelings or thoughts. What was this room you were in — the bathroom? A bathroom, what even is that? Syllables joined into a longer sound that should have some specific meaning. What meaning? You didn’t know. A loud ringing filled your ears, driving everything out of your mind.
The phone call had ended. The device was still pressed against your cheek, slipping further and further from your grip. After a while — you couldn’t tell how long — it simply fell to the floor, onto the simple black-and-white tiles. You didn’t even hear the sound it made.
You might have stayed frozen there for hours if not for the soft tapping on the other side of the door. You were only just returning to reality, so you couldn’t respond. Then someone spoke your name in a questioning tone. You ignored that too, though not intentionally. For a moment, you had simply forgotten your own name. This unsettled the person in the next room; after a few seconds, they grasped the handle and pushed the door. It met the barrier of your back, and that gentle jolt was what began to pull you out of your trance.
The first breath hurt; the first thought nearly brought you to your knees.
Jeremy. Your little brother.
Moving as if on autopilot, you turned toward the door and opened it. At first, Spencer seemed to exhale with relief, but then he saw the expression on your face, and his slightly hunched posture straightened, shifting to one of concern.
You’d taken over the bathroom as soon as you returned to the hotel, so he hadn’t had a chance to change. He’d only hung up his jacket by the door, taken off his vest, and remained in his shirt with a loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.
“W-what happened? I thought I heard something fall…”
“It was...um...the phone,” you managed to choke out.
“I-I was talking to my dad, my dad, but first with my mom, and…and she was mad at me because of…because of…wait, what did you ask?” The words spilling from you were one big jumble. You pressed a cool hand to your forehead, burning as if with fever, your brain throbbing with effort, as if you were delivering a university lecture on nuclear physics.
Spencer was no longer just concerned — he was terrified. Seeing how you were barely standing on legs that refused to cooperate, he caught you just before you fell. You collapsed face-first onto his shoulder, surrendering entirely to gravity.
“Oh…okay, okay, it’s okay now,” he whispered, resting one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back, offering support.
You closed your eyes, only now realizing they were filled with tears. The shock was fading, the barrier that had held back every other emotion finally breaking down. They began to overwhelm you, resulting in a muffled sob against his body. 
“He tried to kill himself,” you finally managed to say, the meaning of the words slowly sinking in. You repeated it several times, each time quieter but with more awareness. “He tried…he tried…”
“No, you don’t have to... just... oh god, I’m so sorry...” He stammered. He realized that no words would be enough, none would help you. Instead of wasting energy on them, he poured it all into the embrace, holding you even tighter.
You simply stayed in that position, as time passed by.
"What's with him?" he asked when your breathing finally returned to a steady rhythm, and the pain wasn't as sharp. His voice was so soft, soothing like a lullaby. "Your brother?"
You realized that, because of your secrecy, you had never even casually mentioned Jeremy to him. This was the first time you were talking about him. Under these circumstances
"Dad said his condition is stable." You raised your head, and your eyes met by accident. You quickly looked back down at your hands. You felt exposed in a way you never had before with anyone else, and it was strange, unfamiliar. But you couldn’t say it was entirely negative. "He’s under observation now; he lost a lot of blood. If my mom hadn’t found him..."
You shook your head, trying to chase away the dark visions and scenarios.
"Spencer," you sighed, struggling to put into words what had been tormenting you from the very beginning. "I... I can’t stop thinking about how much of this is my fault."
"I left him with our parents. Fully aware of what they’re like. I told him he could rely on me but  I was in another city, only keeping in touch by phone. Irregulary. Since we started working on this case, I’ve spoken to him once…"
Until now, you hadn’t maintained strong eye contact; each time it happened, you pulled away. But in that moment, there was something in his gaze that wouldn’t let you look away. Reid was definitely not one to offer empty words of comfort or general platitudes. Seeing him remain silent, you were certain he was about to say something entirely his own.
“Blaming yourself is a very common, I’d even say natural, part of grief, and I’m afraid that nothing I say will make you stop feeling this way, but I’ll try anyway. You didn’t abandon Jeremy. Even if there was distance between you, you still tried to be there for him, you cared for him like no one else did. You know, even if you usually avoided talking about it, it was still very clear. Sometimes I’d see you from a distance talking to him on the phone. I couldn’t hear a word, but… I wondered a lot who that person was. The one who makes you so happy” He looked slightly flustered, blushing as he realized what he had mentioned, but continued nonetheless. “You seemed so happy and genuinely invested. I can tell that you didn’t stay in touch with him out of guilt or obligation alone. He truly meant the world to you. And… what I’m trying to say is that… sometimes, no matter how much we try, there are things we just can’t control. This is incredibly hard for you, and you blame yourself for all of it, but I hope that someday you’ll see that not everything depended on you, and none of this is your fault."
You stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say. His words… they touched you, pierced your skin, and lodged deeply within your body. They soothed you, like a lullaby sung to a child before sleep. You realized just how incredibly grateful you were that you both shared this room.
"I don't know what I would do if you weren't here," you answered softly, feeling the area around your eyes tighten, signaling the tears that were about to come.
Without hesitation, he simply embraced you.
With his chin resting on the top of your head and your forehead pressed against his collarbone.
"You would manage. You’re strong. But you deserve to have someone by your side in a moment like this."
You whispered that you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He offered you one of the sleeping pills he had mentioned in the car, though it would take a little while for them to take effect. You lay on your side, with your knees curled up. It wasn’t until the morning that you realized you were on his bed, surprised to find yourself so far from the window. That was your first thought, still not fully sober.
The room was drowning in darkness, the only sources of light being the faint glow of the moon sneaking in like a thief through the imperfectly drawn curtain, and the alarm clock on the nightstand between your beds, showing the time as 4:47.
You stretched your sleepy eyelids open and rubbed them with your hand, not moving from your spot. You felt a little embarrassed that you had fallen asleep in Spencer’s bed, but then you noticed his silhouette in yours. It turned out you had simply swapped places. Since it was only your second night in this hotel, it hadn’t yet absorbed his scent. Not that you were looking for it. You were just curious, which is why you pressed your face so firmly into the pillow.
Spencer was lying with his face turned toward you. However, he didn’t seem completely relaxed, almost as if even the sound of dust floating in the air could wake him. This turned out to be a very accurate observation, as the moment you opened your eyes, he did the same.
"Hey, how do you feel?" he asked. His voice was quiet, hoarse.
"I'm too awake to go back to sleep for another week. Unfortunately," you muttered, turning onto your back. Of course, it was sarcasm. You couldn’t sleep for too long, you had to... you weren’t even sure what you had to do. You urgently needed to find out what had happened with Jeremy over the past few hours. Was his condition still stable, or had it improved significantly overnight, or…
The thought of another conversation with your father drained you. Or, worse yet, your mother. They were, however, your only source of information about your unconscious brother.
So yes, you needed to make a call, then get up, pull yourself together, maybe eat something… it all sounded more than overwhelming.
"I'll talk to Hotch, if you want. He’ll let you go back, even today."
The mention of the boss’s name hit you like an ice cube dropped under your shirt. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, you were still at work. In the middle of hunting down a seven-time murderer who had discarded his last two victims just yesterday. A murderer who, from the very beginning, had stirred your intuition, suggesting that the answer to this puzzle lay somewhere at the back of your mind.
On the other hand, you felt obligated to be by Jeremy’s side when he woke up. Who else would be there for him? A nurse? An emotionally absent father? An unstable, bipolar mother who had probably stopped taking her meds again?
As if against your own will, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, a certain thought suddenly entering your mind.
"I'll stay," you decided.
"Are you sure? If you don't want to talk about it with the others, I’ll do it for you," he offered, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was a mess, eyes gleaming with worry. "You know Hotch, he may not seem like it, but he's very understanding..."
"Really, I can handle it," you reassured him, but he didn’t seem convinced. "Reid, I need to finish this case. I think I’ve realized something."
He sat on the bed, furrowing his brow. The sudden change in the tone of your voice must have intrigued him; you sounded almost determined.
"What is it?"
You opened your mouth, ready to rush out a chaotic response, but stopped yourself at the last moment. It was so early in the morning, and your mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders — how could it be, when you’d only just woken up? It made more sense to wait, to go over the latest findings with the team; maybe they would fit perfectly with your newest theory.
And that’s exactly what happened.
“The victims found on the pumpkin farm have been identified,” Hotch announced instead of a greeting when you met just an hour and a half later. Everyone looked slightly dazed; the coffee they were sipping hadn’t yet kicked in. Likely, only you and Reid had been up this early—physically, you seemed the most alert, yet it was plain to see that your thoughts were still rooted in the previous day, struggling to keep up with everything happening around you. You sat close together, shoulder to shoulder, entirely on instinct, as if an invisible thread connected you, tightening painfully around your wrists whenever you tried to drift too far apart.
From time to time, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to see if you were okay. Twice, he gave a slight nod in Hotch’s direction, reminding you that you could still talk to him, ask for permission to go back home. You silently reassured him that you were feeling relatively fine and didn’t want to bring it up with the boss. Just as you broke eye contact, ending the wordless conversation, you noticed Morgan and Prentiss watching the two of you, their heads tilted at the same angle in an almost eerily synchronized way.
You took a breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. Your sudden closeness with Reid must have seemed at the very least… suspicious to them.
“Their names were Denise Grant and Alexa Miller, and listen to this,” Garcia began, her voice quickening as her face appeared on the laptop screen. “Both of them worked at the same orphanage. And what's more — it's the very same orphanage where one of the earlier victims worked.”
The atmosphere thickened as everyone absorbed the significance of the information.
"What are the chances this could be a coincidence?" JJ asked rhetorically.
"Well..." Reid began. His friend raised an eyebrow. "I get it, no large numbers. But small ones. Smaller than the chance that the asteroid..."
"Were the remaining body parts of these women found?" Rossi asked matter-of-factly.
Hotch shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. The forest is so heavily guarded by the police that it's unlikely the unsub managed to dump them there."
"But he has to be doing something with them," Prentiss said, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Doesn't it make you wonder where he's committing all these crimes? He gets rid of the bodies quickly, and there were no signs on the victims suggesting they were held captive. Do you think he could be killing them in his own house?"
"That's possible," Morgan replied. "He wouldn't be the first. And unfortunately, he won't be the last."
"If that's the case, they're going to start smelling awful soon. He'll have to get rid of them, and with so much police presence around, it won't be that easy."
"Let's hope he makes a mistake in the process," Hotch summarized, scanning your faces carefully. Finally, his gaze landed on yours. "You’ll go to the orphanage with..." He swept his eyes over everyone around you, finally settling on Derek. Reid, sitting next to you, shifted uncomfortably.
"I'll go with her," he offered a bit too abruptly.
This shifted the focus of everyone’s attention onto you. You tried to act as if it didn’t matter who would go with you, but deep down, you were hoping it would be him.
You stared at your boss, waiting for his decision. Finally, he nodded and began assigning other tasks to the rest of the team. You couldn't help but smile, barely perceptibly, feeling grateful to Spencer.
It wasn’t that you minded the company of the others; it was simply that none of them had any idea what had happened the day before. They might ask questions about your more withdrawn-than-usual behavior or your subdued mood, and you didn’t want to talk about what had happened with your brother. You knew that with Reid, you would feel the most comfortable.
For a while, you continued discussing the farm workers, who turned out to be employed without contracts, and of course the owner who was hiring them off the books. But with each new statement from your colleagues, you became more and more detached. Your thoughts kept drifting to Jeremy and his behavior over the past few weeks. He had seemed down during your conversations, but you had chalked it up to just the usual busy period at school. On top of that, there was the family situation. Living alone, you'd almost forgotten what a typical day with your mother used to look like. You started to berate yourself, feeling guilty for not being more concerned about his state.
Eventually, everyone dispersed, ready to get back to their tasks.
You went to the car alone, as Reid had been stopped by Derek, who had asked him something with an unreadable expression. His eyebrow had raised suggestively, and you could have sworn you saw it even from several meters away. You stared at the two of them, leaning against the open passenger-side door, intrigued about what the conversation might be about. Normally, you weren’t the curious type; you didn’t like it when people asked you too many questions, and you avoided prying into others’ affairs. But this time, you couldn’t take your eyes off Spencer’s face, clearly embarrassed—maybe even… blushing?
Derek laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on the back before walking away. Your companion sat in the driver's seat without a word, avoiding your gaze.
"Where is the orphanage?" he asked.
You turned toward him, brow furrowed.
"You remembered the whole map," you reminded him.
"Oh, right..."
You fell silent for several minutes, but your curiosity grew so much that you thought you might not be able to hold it in any longer.
"What were you two talking about? With Morgan?"
"Oh... just some stuff," he replied evasively, overly focused on the road. As if you were in the middle of a busy city during rush hour, rather than on a nearly empty road in the morning.
"You know Morgan and his... sense of humor."
"Yes, I know. Did he tell some great joke?"
"Not really."
"Go ahead. I'm curious."
"I’m telling you, nothing worth repeating... Besides, I've already forgotten it myself..."
"Reid, for God's sake, you literally have a photographic memory...!"
"Okay, fine!" he finally blurted out, removing one hand from the steering wheel and raising it in a defensive gesture. His voice went up a quarter of an octave. He then took a deep breath and put on a seemingly calm expression. "Morgan wanted to know if our... well, unusual... peculiar... definitely different from the previous days... behavior means that..."
"That what?" you asked encouragingly.
"That we slept with each other”
You blinked in slow motion, too shocked to respond. Spencer couldn't resist glancing at you, trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, you sat frozen, then you burst into laughter.
"And what did you tell him?"
"What did I tell him?" he repeated in disbelief. "The truth, what else was I supposed to say?"
You realized how stupid your question was.
"Anyway, even if it were true... you know, that we... slept together... I wouldn't have mentioned it to him. I mean, don’t get me wrong” He quickly added the last part.“It's not that I’d be ashamed to admit it or... anything like that, I just would’ve preferred to sort it out with you first..."
You watched his growing embarrassment and... simply smiled.
"Sorry," you explained your reaction, letting out a slight chuckle. "I just thought... Well nevermind. Or…Fine, I was thinking about how strangely Emily was looking at me and how Derek probably wasn’t the only one who came to that conclusion. Look, we share a room with each other for the very first time and then suddenly we become so close... and then there's the fact that you asked to come with me..."
"That's because I wanted... I wanted to keep an eye on you after what happened yesterday."
"I understand that, and... I’m incredibly grateful to you for it. Really, Spence. But to others, it might look really suspicious."
He paused for a moment, thinking about your words. Ahead of you, the orphanage building came into view. Made of a mix of red and cream bricks, it resembled a small private school. Behind the fence, there was a small playground with a pink slide, its surface now covered in brown leaves.
"Wait," Reid asked with a slightly hoarse voice as you were about to get out of the car. "Does this mean that... you’d prefer we saw each other less?"
You were momentarily speechless.
"What? Of course not. Let them think what they want. Especially those two…lacherours, Morgan and Prentiss. It doesn’t change anything between us."
The air hit your face in waves, occasionally accompanied by a stray raindrop, but overall, the weather that day wasn’t terrible.
You made your way to the orphanage doors, trying to adopt serious, professional expressions fitting for your line of work. However, you couldn’t help but let those fleeting, secret smiles slip through. You felt a tight knot in your stomach loosen.
But back to business, no staff member at the orphanage wants to see two FBI agents on their doorstep at eight in the morning. Well, no one wants to see FBI agents on their doorstep. Regardless of the time. The woman who opened the door greeted you with a slight look of confusion. She was shorter than both of you, with thick blonde hair, wearing a fluffy lavender sweater. At first glance, she seemed friendly, but… incredibly downhearted.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked, clearly forcing a smile.
You looked at Reid and took a small breath, holding back a sigh. It dawned on both of you that… she probably didn’t know yet that the heads found on the farm belonged to her two coworkers.
Everyone in the town knew about the discovery, that was beyond doubt. The fact that these two women hadn’t shown up for work in several days should have made her realize it. But sometimes, as people, we prefer to deceive ourselves right until the very end.
You hated informing people that their loved ones had died, especially in such a horrific way. However, you knew you had to do what was required of you, reaching into your pocket for your badge.
"We're from the FBI," you said after introducing yourselves, trying to keep a gentle expression to spare some nerves for the already frightened woman. "Do you work here? We’d like to have a word with all the staff and the director."
The woman took a deep, nervous breath.
“Yes, I work here. Florence Terry. I’m… I’m a psychologist.”
She opened the door wider, letting you both inside. You quickly glanced around, immediately noticing how well-kept the place was. In your line of work, you’d surprisingly often found yourself visiting orphanages, and many — even in larger cities — were in far worse condition. In the spacious hallway stood a staircase made of light wood, leading to the upper floors. On one of the steps, someone had placed a teddy bear so that it looked like it was gazing down.
“Do you think it’s afraid of heights?” you whispered to Reid, careful that the psychologist couldn’t hear.
“I think it’s an inanimate object and therefore incapable of having fears,” he whispered back, leaning slightly toward you.
“I think you’re —”
“We’re just having breakfast,” Florence interrupted, leading you into the dining room, where a long table stood at the center. At the sight of you both, the adults seated there — likely other caregivers — put their utensils aside. There weren’t that many kids here; they could almost pass for an unusually large family, if not for the fact that nearly all of them were around the same age. There were no little ones — you noticed mostly teenagers. One boy spilled his tea on the table and wiped it up with his sleeve, his black bangs brushing against the glasses perched on his narrow nose. You weren’t sure if it was his appearance or his mannerisms, but he immediately reminded you of Jeremy.
Reid immediately noticed you staring. Of course he did. You gave a slight smile, reassuring him that everything was fine.
Your arrival didn’t cause much of a stir; most of the children didn’t even look up. It probably would have been different if they knew you were from the FBI. The expression on the psychologist's face, however, alarmed the adults. They exchanged tense glances, but tried to maintain appearances in front of the children.
 The woman with the tight black ponytail stood up, introducing herself as the director.
“We can talk in my office,” she offered, shaking your hand.
“We’d like to speak with all the staff,” Reid informed her.
“Oh, of course. Then please, follow me…”
She led you to a small room on the ground floor, with the word "DIRECTOR" written on the door in colorful crayons. Three more people followed you, including the psychologist.
"Not everyone is here today," the director noted. "Some employees simply work different hours, while others..."
"That’s something we wanted to discuss," you said slowly.
The women and one man exchanged glances. They knew.
"Is… is this about Denise and Alexa?" Florence dared to ask.
To their horror, you had to confirm it. It was incredibly difficult to watch someone take in the news of not only the death of colleagues, but likely close friends as well. You lowered your gaze, staring at your shoes, giving them a moment before they were ready to continue with the questioning. Together with Reid, you had to ask them countless questions, probing to understand why these particular orphanage employees had become the killer’s victims. Or perhaps, whether they remembered any former resident who had long since left but whose behavior had raised suspicions. There was a strong likelihood that the unsub had come from there.
But before you began the questioning, the doorbell rang.
"That’s probably the volunteer. A teenager from town who comes by to help from time to time, sometimes she brings friends along," the director explained, her trembling hands pressed against her chest. "Their help has been especially valuable these past few days since… since Denise and Alexa… disappeared."
"I’ll let them in," you offered, glancing at Reid. It would be worth asking these teenagers a few questions as well.
He nodded, and you headed toward the entrance of the building. One girl pulled back quickly into the dining hall at the sight of you; she must have been eavesdropping. At first, you felt like smiling, but then sadness took over. These kids didn’t know yet about the death of their caretakers. How would the staff tell them? How would they react?
Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.
Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.
“Oh, hi,” she greeted you, equally surprised. She wore the same white jacket you’d seen her in yesterday, with a colorful scarf covering half her face, her pale cheeks flushed from the cold. You glanced toward the parking lot, where the sheriff's car was just pulling away beside yours. He must have dropped off his daughter before heading straight back to his duties. The town needed him more than ever. “Dad told me who those women were… the ones I found yesterday. Is that why you’re here?”
You confirmed, lips pressed tightly together. She stepped inside, unzipping her jacket.
"My partner is talking with the staff right now," you said, stopping with her by the stairs, not wanting the children in the dining hall to overhear. "I had no idea you volunteered here. That’s really, really kind of you. How long have you been doing this?"
She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"Just a few months," she replied, but there was something incomplete in her tone. As if she wanted to say more but held back. You replayed your conversation from the day before in your mind, analyzing it moment by moment, trying to deduce what might be behind her behavior.
"My dad, surprisingly, isn’t too thrilled about it. I live on the other side of town, so he has to drive me here, and he also says I should be studying instead…” She lowered her voice to an embarrassed whisper. “…wandering around with the poor."
You were taken aback, even outraged, by the sheriff’s behavior. As a parent, he should be proud that his daughter took the initiative to get involved in charity work! Yet, as you looked at the girl, who was avoiding your gaze, you felt there was something she wasn’t telling you.
“I’m glad that despite his… forgive me for saying it, but rudeness, you’re still determined to help here,” you said, choosing your words carefully. Charlotte gave a shy smile at the compliment. “Out of curiosity, was it your idea? Or maybe your friends’, and you just got… drawn into it?”
The girl hesitated before finally sighing in surrender.
"My boyfriend grew up here," she admitted. "He told me a bit about this place, and… hearing his stories, I felt a need to help these kids. I started coming here, tutoring them, playing with them, teaching them to draw. You know, typical volunteer stuff."
Her answer didn’t surprise you much. Since she’d mentioned her boyfriend yesterday—describing him as someone who opposed rules and was the complete opposite of her father—you’d subconsciously known this topic would come up again. You didn’t hide the fact that the way she described him had raised concerns, making you question whether he was truly a good match for such a sensitive young girl.
"Does he know about this? Does he come help with you?"
"N-no. He doesn't have the best memories of this place... but he's really happy that I decided to do this."
You didn’t want to turn the conversation into an interrogation, but you felt you needed to ask these questions to get the full picture.
“How long ago did he leave the orphanage?”
Charlotte seemed increasingly tense during the conversation, glancing around as if expecting someone to come and rescue her. You couldn’t help but cross your arms over your chest, a gesture that may have seemed threatening or stern. Quickly realizing that you’d frightened her, you softened your posture, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.
You were almost certain that this was a similar case. Charlotte was only sixteen, struggling with the death of her mother, a sensitive soul with an incredibly strict father—who also happened to be a cop. An older boyfriend might have given her a sense of escape from the heavy hand of her father’s authority, a feeling of freedom.
"Sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to be so intrusive. Just a professional habit," you joked. She smiled faintly, still clearly on edge.
The way she spoke about him—the hint of fear, her earlier request for you not to mention him to her father, and her avoidance of answering how long ago he left the orphanage—made you start to seriously suspect that he was older than her. It wasn’t unusual for teenage girls to seek out older partners, and in most cases, it wasn’t a bad thing... but sometimes, those older partners turned out to be much older men. Manipulators.
Before you could say anything more, Reid appeared in the doorway of the office, casting a curious glance between you and the girl, whom he surely remembered from yesterday.
"Uh...Can I have a word with you?" he called you. Charlotte greeted him so quietly that he probably didn’t even hear it. "I think I’ve found something interesting."
"Oh, sure," you replied, remembering you shouldn’t leave him alone with the work for too long. Before leaving, you smiled at the sheriff’s daughter. The topic of her and her boyfriend was still nagging at you. "I’d like to talk to you later, okay? Either after we finish talking to the staff, or... you have my number, right?"
The girl nodded, murmuring a quick goodbye before disappearing into the dining hall, where a child squealed with delight at the sight of her.
"Did you find anything out?" you asked Reid. He had been watching the girl with obvious interest, which was piqued by your almost agitated stance. However, you didn’t have time to explain everything to him yet; you needed to get back to the main investigation.
You both returned to the office. The staff were standing in the same spots, looking as if they hadn’t moved an inch since you left.
"I asked a few questions that might help us figure out why the unsub chose three people who worked at this particular orphanage," he began. You noticed he was starting to speak faster, which meant a breakthrough had occurred, at least in his reasoning. You watched him, holding your breath. "And I found out that none of the people here have worked here for more than eight years. Just like the victims."
You furrowed your brow, not sure what that meant. The director quickly offered an explanation.
"Eight years ago, there was a huge scandal involving this orphanage," she explained, swallowing hard. "It came to light that the caretakers and the director at the time were abusing the children. Seriously abusing them. What’s worse, the case was reported multiple times, but no one in the town’s leadership did anything about it. The mayor stayed silent... They say he was afraid to do anything, so as not to lose the funding the orphanage was receiving. It wasn’t until eight years ago that the truth finally came out, the staff was convicted, and they were replaced by us."
"The town’s leadership didn’t react," you repeated her words, your mind working at full speed. "The earlier victims were part of the town’s leadership. This is the connection we’ve been looking for, Reid. The unsub must have been a victim of abuse right here in this orphanage."
"We need to tell the others," Reid decided. You both headed toward the exit, and then you remembered that you hadn’t even said goodbye to the orphanage staff.
"Thank you for your help, these are really useful pieces of information..." you said quickly as you passed them.
In the car, everything felt like it was spinning.
"Look, the unsub isn’t directly killing the people who abused him. If that were the case, the old staff would be the ones dying, not the current one. Remember, one of his victims was a teacher, completely unrelated to the orphanage. I think it’s not about punishing those people, but more about a symbolic revenge, one that doesn’t have to be logical. It doesn’t have to make sense to us, but it seems logical to him," Reid shared his thoughts as you drove toward the police station, where you expected to find the rest of your team. "He’s struggling with trauma. He’s been managing it somehow over the years, but now he’s unable to control the rage building up inside him. Decapitation is another symbol. It strips these people of the power they once had over him when he was a child or a teenager, and no one listened to his cries for help."
You straightened up in your seat, all the information starting to fall into place.
"Do you remember this morning when I mentioned that something came to my mind? That’s why I didn’t want to leave?" you asked. "At first, we were puzzled that some of the victims were treated with a different level of cruelty, specifically the women. Others, the ones from the city council, only had their heads cut off, with no other injuries. The unsub believes these innocent people are directly responsible for hurting him, he’s delusional. Sometimes he blames the city authorities for not reacting. The anger he feels toward them isn’t as intense as for the orphanage staff, which is why he harms them to a lesser extent. I think... he’s experiencing manic episodes, where all his feelings and paranoia are stronger. That’s when he kills with much greater cruelty."
“Mania?” Reid repeated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You mean borderline?” You nodded. For a moment, he thought over your words, then his eyes lit up. “That... that’s very possible. There have been cases where borderline murderers nearly changed their modus operandi. During a manic episode, when someone with borderline personality disorder experiences heightened energy, a sense of grandeur, and excessive impulsivity, they may act more aggressively, brutally, and ruthlessly. In a depressive episode, on the other hand, the person may act more coldly, with calculated precision, focusing on their goal without emotional outbursts, but carrying a heavy load of negative emotions. It all fits.”
You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar rush that came whenever you were close to solving a case. Your heart raced, and warmth crept over your neck, like a fever. You and Reid burst into the station, practically supporting each other like two converging whirlwinds, nearly colliding with Hotch in the process. He was initially startled, then his eyes narrowed as he took in both your faces, his expression becoming more focused as you explained everything.
For a moment, he was silent.
“Let’s call Garcia,” he finally said. “Have her find all the men who lived in that orphanage eight years ago.”
You took a deep breath. This was really happening. You were so close to catching the killer...
After filling Garcia in on everything you knew, she immediately set to work compiling a list of men who might fit the profile. Meanwhile, you and Reid headed to the coffee and snack machine. You bought yourself a drink and a chocolate bar, feeling the rush of adrenaline start to subside.
Taking advantage of the brief moment of calm, you checked your phone for any missed calls.
“Neither my mother nor my father called,” you said, slipping the phone back into your pocket. Sharing personal details with anyone on the team still felt strange—especially when it came to your family. You wondered if it would ever feel normal. You noticed Spencer giving you a concerned look. “It’s a good thing,” you added quickly. “It means Jeremy’s condition is stable. Or maybe even improving. If it were bad, I’d have twenty missed calls from my mom—and one from my dad.”
You tried to turn that last line into a joke, but it came out sounding more bleak than funny.
“I hope everything will be okay with him,” Reid said, as his cup filled with coffee from the machine. He reached for it, his gaze fixed on you. “You remember that you can come to me if things get tough, right?”
“I try not to forget,” you admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. “But it’s not something I’m used to.”
For a moment, he looked at you silently, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes seemed so gentle and understanding that it was hard for you to look away.
"Hey, lovers!"
Spencer jumped and cursed as coffee spilled onto his hand. Startled, you both turned to see Morgan grinning at you with a playful smile.
"Come over here for a sec."
You felt the urge to cover your face at the sight of the entire team, who had all heard what he'd called you.
Some unknown force held you back from nudging Emily when she shot you an amused sidelong glance. But soon, your focus shifted to Garcia's face on the laptop screen, ready to share her findings.
"Tell us what you found, babygirl."
"So, I managed to pull up quite a long list of former orphanage residents. Surprisingly long, for such a small town. Hotch helped narrow it down a bit… I found twelve men who would now be between twenty and forty years old. Five of them still live in town, but one of them caught my eye. Well, actually, his story did. He was placed in the orphanage at ten years old after his mother, struggling with bipolar disorder, attempted suicide."
You already knew it was him.
"His name is Logan Osborne, currently twenty-four years old. He has one minor offense on record for selling weed, oddly enough, in another town. Here’s where it gets interesting—though not in a good way. His mother actually survived but passed away less than two years ago, and he inherited her house and apparently moved back into it."
"Returning to the town where he was abused must have been the trigger that pushed him to murder," said Reid. 
"That would fit with my theory about bipolar personality disorder," you summarized. "Genetics alone doesn’t determine the disorder, but the fact is that in families with cases of this disorder, the likelihood of it appearing in other individuals is higher."
At one point, you had read a lot about it due to your own mother. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. Reid looked at you intently, surely noticing the sudden shift in the tone of your voice. God, he must have been that observant?
"What's the address of his house?" Hotch asked.
You waited in readiness as Garcia provided the information. Once she did, you all gathered and headed out.
*
If you had found him there, everything would have been so simple. Almost too simple.
But there was no sign of Logan Osborne at the house, nor any indication that it was inhabited by a serial killer who decapitated his victims. Instead of immediately securing the building, Hotch ordered a stakeout. Inside, several agents, including Morgan and Prentiss, waited for the moment he might show up.
The rest of the team had no tasks assigned. You waited at the precinct, hoping something would happen. Meanwhile, Garcia sifted through thousands of bits of information about the man. Some were more important than others, but unfortunately, it only seemed to fuel a growing sense of dread among you all.
Since inheriting his mother’s house, he hadn’t paid taxes or most of his bills. He didn’t have a steady job, though he picked up odd jobs here and there. You checked with the local police, but most didn’t recognize his name. One officer who did recall him said he didn’t have the best relations with the authorities. With anyone, really.
"A little anarchist, huh?" Rossi muttered.
You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket. Reaching for it, you saw a message from an unknown number.
hey it’s charlotte. you said we could meet and talk when i needed to please can we meet? i can’t handle what i saw on the farm yesterday and my dad isn’t helping with his behavior either
A few hours had already passed since the ambush was set, and still nothing had happened, though the darkness outside was settling in.
“Would it be alright if I disappear for a quarter?” you asked. “I promised something to the sheriff’s daughter, and it looks like I’ll need to meet with her.”
You didn’t receive any opposition. If anything happened, you would be immediately informed by phone. Reid offered to go with you, but Hotch needed him for something. You wouldn’t have minded his company—on the contrary, you would have been glad for it—but on the other hand, Charlotte might not feel too comfortable with it. After all, she had arranged to meet only with you.
As you drove toward her house, you spent a lot of time reflecting on your earlier conversation. It was the first time you really had the chance to think about it seriously. Her mysterious boyfriend, whom she had been so reluctant to talk about and with whom there was probably an age gap. And who also grew up in that orphanage...
You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you earlier. Maybe because of how well-behaved Charlotte seemed? Her big, bright eyes full of kindness. She herself seemed like the perfect teenager—sensitive and eager to help. Plus, she was the sheriff's daughter. For God's sake, you were about to go to the house of another cop.
You only realized how foolish you had been when, as soon as you stepped out of the car, something hit you in the back of the head.
*
You were woken up by nothing but the pain in the back of your head.
You opened your eyes, struggling to hold back a groan. Everything around you was blurry, as if you had a terrible vision problem and were forced to go somewhere without your glasses. The image, however, began to sharpen with each passing second, causing your heart to beat faster.
You were in…
It was hard to say what kind of place this was. Incredibly dark, the only weak light source was somewhere behind your back. It was possible it was a battery-powered lamp. You couldn’t confirm your suspicions, however… because you couldn’t move. You realized this with horror.
You were tied to the chair with rope. It wrapped tightly around your body, making it hard to breathe and pressing painfully on your ribs. Some of them might even be broken.
Wherever you were, the whole situation looked far from promising. Fragments of memories swirled around your head, randomly flying into your mind and helping you recall what had actually happened.
Of course, working for the FBI, you knew how to behave in the event of a kidnapping. The most important rule was: don’t panic. The problem was, it was damn hard to follow that. 
Inhale, exhale, something jabbed at your ribs. You couldn’t stop another soft groan from escaping.
As if drawn by the sound, a young man appeared in your line of sight.
“Good morning, did you sleep well?” he asked, leaning over you as if you were an infant. After a second, he straightened up, the smile completely replaced by a serious expression. “I don’t like killing people when they’re asleep.”
Garcia had sent you his pictures, and even with the poor lighting, you were able to recognize your unsub in them.
"Logan Osborne?"
"I see you've done your homework."
"Where’s Charlotte?" you asked, a sudden rush of panic flooding through you. Maybe she was behind you, somewhere you couldn’t see? Was she involved in your abduction? After all, it was her who sent the message...
"You think I know where she is every moment of every day?" he sneered, suddenly angry. The room was small, but to your left, there was a rotting bench with metal objects arranged on it. You had to turn your head sharply to confirm your worst suspicion. Knives.
It was getting harder and harder not to panic.
"Knowing her, she's probably painting. My work on the farm really inspired her."
There was a sound. Like a drop falling from the ceiling.
"Where are we?" you asked.
"None of your business."
"Is this a bunker?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"What difference does it make if I find out? I'm tied up," you shrugged meaningfully, emphasizing your position. This caused a wave of pain to course through your chest.
For a moment, there was silence. The man was wandering around the surroundings, and all you could do was watch as he wiped each blade on his flannel shirt. The bile began to rise in your throat with every move he made. Pessimistic thoughts started flooding your mind, so tragic that you barely managed to hold back the tears.
First, everyone on your team thought you went to meet Charlotte. Meaning, it would likely be your prolonged absence that would eventually seem suspicious.
Second, you were in such a mysterious place that everything pointed to the fact that no one would find you, even by accident. Well, alive. 
You knew you couldn’t give up, even though there was little you could do in such a situation. The only real solution in such a hopeless scenario was… convincing him to let you go. A scenario that was damn unlikely, but since death was already threatening you, why not give it a try?
"Logan," you said, your voice trembling. In your mind, you replayed his profile, reminding yourself of facts that could give you an edge in your conversation with him. "Killing me won't help you. It's not me you want to hurt, it's those who hurt you in the orphanage. And those who didn’t react."
"Fine, it’s a bunker," he replied, as if he hadn’t even heard most of what you said. "Back in the Cold War, people built them by the dozen. They didn’t even inform the authorities. We found this one once with the kids from the orphanage, and we didn’t tell anyone, you know what that means, agent?"
You were painfully aware of it.
"Logan," you tried again. "My people know you killed those people. They'll find you the moment you step out into the open. Killing me won’t change anything..."
"Not killing me won’t either."
"They’ll look at you more favorably..."
"Favorably?" he exploded in a manic laugh, suddenly right in front of you. You flinched at the sight of his crazed face so close to yours. "They’ll look favorably on a seven-time murderer? Are you joking? Since I’m already screwed, I might as well cut off your head too..."
Fuck the fake calm, you were terrified.
You trembled, the pain in your ribs intensified, and the first tears began to fall from your eyes. You thought about how you’d never see Jeremy again. How he’d wake up and your death would probably be one of the first things he’d find out. What would he do then? God, your team would think you were an idiot. Of course, no one would say it out loud, but that’s what you were. You got yourself into this situation. Under these circumstances, they shouldn’t even particularly mourn, though they probably would, just a little.
Spencer would probably grieve a little more than the others. Those two nights in one room had brought you closer, you couldn’t deny that. Before, you had thought of him as just a regular coworker, the genius boy, sometimes amusing in his awkwardness. The way he supported you at the worst possible moment made you realize just how valuable he was.
Wherever you end up after death, you’ll miss him.
You didn’t know what motivated you to speak up again. Was it the thought of Jeremy and Spencer, or perhaps the sound of Logan sharpening some kind of weapon, probably an ax?
“Please," you pleaded simply, no longer knowing what else might reach him.
"Don’t cry. I hate it when girls cry. Charlotte does it all the time."
"Charlotte," you repeated. "Did she... know?"
You wanted to know if the girl you had tried so hard to help had played an active role in your murder.
"Of course not," he sneered. "She didn’t help me with anything, if that’s what you’re asking. But she told me about you, the nice FBI agent who snoops around a lot. She thought I was just some rebellious guy, attractive to a teenager like her. You know, with a tough cop dad. I won't lie, it turned me on, sleeping with the sheriff's daughter, knowing I was being hunted by him. And not just by him. Even by the damn FBI."
He seemed proud of himself. Maybe that’s what you should do? Appeal to his ego?
"You were really a tough case," you said, pretending to be impressed. "Seriously. Hours spent analyzing, we sat in silence, none of my colleagues knew what to say..."
“Spare me, I see what you're doing. You're trying to manipulate me... because... you feel superior." After saying those words, a sudden fury ignited in him. He knocked over the rotting table, the knives on it scattering to the floor. You took a breath, clenching your fists tightly in pure panic. "Just like they did. They thought they could hurt little kids, abuse them... because their position allowed it. After all, they were older, their word against a child's word. They say children have too vivid an imagination, have you ever heard that?!”
You closed your eyes, he was screaming it right in your face.
"No, Logan, that's not true... they were monsters, but I would have helped you if I... if I could."
"Then why didn't you?!"
"I... I... I..." Tears tore through you, and you got lost in your own words.
Logan opened his mouth again, but suddenly fell silent. His earlier screams were completely drowned out by a sound from above. You stiffened, recognizing it. Footsteps.
"They're here," you whispered, like a prayer. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.
The man, jaw clenched, stared at the entrance to the bunker. He suppressed a scream of rage, turned around, and grabbed his head, not knowing what to do. But suddenly, he bent down to pick something up from the floor, one of the knives he had knocked over when he flipped the table.
"W-what are you doing?" you asked. Something urged you to struggle, even though you knew it was pointless, the ropes were too tight. "What are you doing?!"
The footsteps mixed with voices, even a shout, and the room was soon flooded with a tsunami of daylight.
"Since they’ve got me anyway, I might as well slit your throat..."
You couldn’t stop the scream as he approached you with the knife. A firm grip on your shoulder, keeping you from squirming. The cold metal on your neck, grazing the thin skin.
And then a shot.
NOTE:
I HATE THE ENDING THE READER IS SO STUPID....!
but in my defence i got kind of lost in my plans and i had to change many things in the last moment
but i want to say that im very grateful for reading 2 previos parts and all the notes under<3 i didn't expect so many likes and comments
epilogue for this story will be posted tomorrow!
taglist: @nightfullofparadox @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx
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hey-august · 2 days ago
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Making Buggy detach all of his limbs and putting his arms and legs nice and safe in a chest with some sea stone. Using what remains of him as your personal little toy and watching him squirm on the bed, unable to do anything about it. Sitting cross legged with that writing torso on your lap, slowly stroking him, watching how he buckled under your touch and isn’t even able to wriggle away from you.
Easily being able to flip him around, either on his stomach so you can get a nice grab on his ass, or on his back, when you decided that you want to play with your favorite living Dildo and ride him. You sink down onto him and it’s so cute to see his shoulders move upwards, like he wants to grab you by the hips and help you sink down on him, but only being able to wiggle the stumps a bit, like they desperately want to touch you as well.
Or being real mean and lying all naked and ready in front of him. You know he’s been sooo good the entire night, it’s time for a reward, he can come over and fuck you now if he wants to. Come on! You know he can make it! Can’t he see how ready and horny you are for him? And then watching him struggle as he makes his way inch by inch over to you, struggling to even get to you at all, till he’s finally with his head on your pelvis but can’t seem to close the last few inches so he can line himself up with you. “Please. Pleasssse I’ve been so good. Please help me fuck you pleasepleaseplease.”
Taking pity on your poor, poor clown and hoisting him up by his waist a little, making him almost sob when he can finally slip inside you and fill you with uncoordinated, off balance thrusts. Pulling a few loose strands of hair from his face as he just keeps humping you in what feels like a shallow parody of his usually hard, precise movements, but this is for his pleasure right now, not yours.
You’ll get yours after he came, making him clean up his cum from between your legs before you give him back his missing limbs…. Or maybe you’ll keep him like this a bit longer, just so you can properly take care of him after and wipe the sweat of his body, having him melt into your arms utterly relaxed, not even having enough sass in him anymore to complain when you heap praise onto him while you rub his stumps. Maybe you’ll ask him if he wants to stay a little bit longer like this, content in having done a good job and knowing that you’re still here with him. Wonderful, generous, strong you, taking care of him in a state he wouldn’t let anyone else see, let alone enjoy so much if he was with anyone BUT you.
DAMN ANON. WOW.
Pulling a few loose strands of hair from his face as he just keeps humping you in what feels like a shallow parody of his usually hard, precise movements, but this is for his pleasure right now, not yours.
Thank you for this. I, uh, don't know how to follow this whole entire feast, but I'll try because you got the thoughts goingggg~
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WC: ~500
Starting off, it's just fun to cuddle the clown without all those arms and legs getting in the way. Really. So Buggy indulges you and pops 'em off for some cozy snuggling.
And without his wandering hands…well, someone has to take that role. One thing leads to another, and it becomes a thing.
You need time for some personal relaxation, but with a little extra assistance? Arms and legs go in the box and you have your fun clown toy to play with how you want. To use how you want.
And when Buggy tentatively offered on his own for the first time? Well, wasn't that fun.. You made sure he had a damn good time. You tucked him tight between the pillows on the bed, perfectly propped up for everything you had planned.
The messy make-out sesh that he was whining through by the end. Biting your lips and blubbering for more - please! How you slowly undressed him. Well, exposing what you can. Tugging at his shirt collar while you kiss his neck and nibble his collarbone. Waiting until you see his nipples poking through the fabric. Pushing the hem of the shirt up, exposing his stomach and the blue hair trailing down… Undoing Buggy's pants while he's thrashing in place is fun. He can't move much because of the pillows, so it's more like awkward air humping.
Of course, once his dick is out, you ease back and undress yourself. Slowly. Buggy's erection is like a metronome, pulsing with each heartbeat.
This is when Buggy learns what pillows must feel like when they're being used for alternative purposes. If your hands aren't resting on his chest, your fingers are digging into his shoulders and practically moving his body underneath yours.
His world is literally shaking and he loves it. So much that he cums much faster than he wished. His back is arched, his limbs are thumping around in the box, and he is begging, pleading, crying for you not to stop. Keep going. Keep using him. Please, please.
Buggy was a different man in that moment. Someone new. Something was unlocked. He didn't really come to until you were nudging one of his arms back into place, trying to find the spot where it would reconnect like it should.
It works. For a second. The arm pops back off and Buggy's not sure if it's because he's so damn exhausted, or if he wants to go for another round. (He's tired. Really. He falls asleep moments later, snoring like a chainsaw. Limbs everywhere, like he was attacked by a chainsaw.)
Also, anon, I had to dig up this mini-Buggy thing that I wrote ages ago. Who know this guy would come back around lmao.
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danikamariewrites · 3 days ago
Text
I’ll Always Have You
Rowaelin x reader
Warnings: tattoo needle
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Sitting on the padded table I anxiously shift around. My thigh bouncing involuntarily as I wait for Rowan. Aelin gives my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Looking at her calm face I feel the anxiety in my stomach loosen.
“Don’t be scared,” Aelin murmurs. “The needle only hurts at first, then you get used to it.” I let out a long sigh, releasing my nerves. But the longer Rowan takes the more I think about having a needle repeatedly poked into my skin.
Rowan finally returns, ink and needle in hand, an excited look on his face. He sets everything down on a side table, laying out the sketch of your tattoo.
Rowan doesn’t talk about his artistic abilities much. He gets very shy when Aelin and I bring it up, which is very cute. The big fae warrior getting all blushy because of compliments from his mates.
Staring at the sketch again I smile. It’s a physical reminder of the love I share with my mates created by Rowan with all the thought and love in the world.
Rowan gently grasps my chin, tilting my face to look at him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We won’t be upset with you,” he says softly.
I shake my head. “I want to. I’m ready.” He softly kisses my forehead before instructing me to take my shirt off and get comfortable.
Aelin runs her nails against my scalp, pulling my hair forward and off my back. My shoulders jerk from the chills she gives me.
“Hey,” Rowan chastises her. “She can’t be moving so hands off.” I can see Aelin roll those stunning eyes of hers without looking. “Buzzard,” she mutters.
I sneakily link my pinky with hers, turning my head to give Aelin a smile. She leans down and lightly pecks my forehead before scolded again.
“Ok,” Rowan holds the needle ready with ink above the middle of my back, “If you need a break don’t be scared to tell me. And remember to breathe through the pain.” “Ok,” I respond, already taking calming breaths.
On the first prick of the needle my eyes started to water. I held my breath for a few more stabs until my body adjusted to the pain. Remembering Rowan’s instructions I start to breathe again, squeezing Aelin’s hand.
After two long hours Rowan set the needle down, wiping gently at my back. My accelerated healing already closing the small wounds across my skin.
Rowan presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. “You did amazing, love.”
I groan, pushing up on my elbows, careful not to aggravate my skin. “Thanks Ro,” I sit up, crossing my arms to cover my chest. Aelin quickly slips one of Rowan’s undershirts over my head.
“Can I see it?” Rowan nods excitedly. Leading us to the bathroom he turns my back to face the mirror above the sink while he holds another in front of me. Lifting my shirt my breath catches and tears line my eyes.
“Rowan,” I breathe out. My eyes widen in shock at the beautiful black ink decorating my back. “It’s beautiful.” Silver lines my eyes as I stare in awe.
A pair of wings spread across my shoulder blades, the feathers made up of the Old Language. Our story together. My story, my survival and strength, finding my path to my mates.
“You really like it?” He asks, a little timid. I look up at him, disbelief on my face at Rowan asking such a thing. “Of course I do.”
Pushing up on your toes, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Rowan hugs you back, careful to not aggravate your tattoo. “We love you, y/n. So much.”
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