#SAT preparation classes online | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 1 year ago

Text

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna.

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.”

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too.

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You.

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?” You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Weird.

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account?

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got.

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.”

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off.

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man.

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion.

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor.

This was absolute torture.

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…”

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice.

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now.

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips.

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to admit - “-virgin.”

Oh.

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not?

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation.

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted.

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly.

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice.

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again.

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is.

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other.

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit.

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it.

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?”

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were.

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy.

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster.

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices.

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you.

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm.

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more.

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet.

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both?

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection.

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door.

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone.

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing.

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word.

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you. Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world.

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully.

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all.

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles.

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead.

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy.

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter?????

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack.

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy.

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already.

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game.

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum.

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over.

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him.

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you.

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will.

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there.

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter.

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

“Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.”

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body.

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him.

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but.

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you?

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit.

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again.

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you.

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you.

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs. So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all.

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won.

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera.

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies??

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right?

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo #gojo x reader

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softzenia · 2 years ago

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Four Important Things You Need to keep in Mind for the SAT Exam Preparation in Dubai

As its name suggests, the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) is a standard test that most colleges use to decide who gets into their schools. The SAT does not measure a student’s academic skills or intelligence. Instead, it measures how well they have learned English and math throughout their academic lives. So, there are only some complete SAT course in Dubai outlines or readings to help you prepare…

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ari-ana-bel-la · 4 months ago

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Could you write a Charles Leclerc x child daughter reader (10 years old), where he's at the racetrack, and Charles brings her to the Ferrari garage after school? While in the garage, Charles helps her with her homework and maybe reactions of others on father-daughter moment. I love your fanfics!

Homework in the Paddock

The hum of engines roared through the paddock, a familiar melody to Charles as he walked hand-in-hand with his daughter, Yn. The warmth of the Monaco sun bathed the racetrack in a golden glow, and despite the bustle of team members rushing around, mechanics fine-tuning the cars, and media personnel lingering for interviews, Charles was focused on one thing—Yn.

She was ten years old now, and every bit the light of his life. From the moment she was born, Charles knew his world had changed. It had grown brighter, more meaningful. Every race, every win, every setback—it all mattered more because of her. And he had made sure she could be with him as often as possible, even working out an agreement with her school so she could attend her classes online while traveling with him.

Yn adjusted the straps of her small backpack, shifting it over her shoulders as they walked toward the Ferrari garage. “Papa, what’s on the schedule today?” she asked, glancing up at him with her bright, inquisitive eyes.

Charles squeezed her hand. “I have meetings, media, and then practice, but we have some time before that. I thought we could do your homework together in the garage.”

Yn groaned dramatically, making Charles chuckle. “Papa, I thought I was getting a break from school,” she pouted.

“You promised, ma chérie,” Charles reminded her with a knowing smile. “And I promised your maman I would make sure you did your lessons.”

They stepped into the garage, the smell of fuel and rubber filling the air. The Ferrari team was already busy preparing the car for the next session, but the moment Charles and Yn walked in, heads turned. The entire team had come to adore Yn over the years. She was like a little Ferrari mascot, always there with her father, always bringing an infectious energy that even the most stressful race weekends couldn’t dampen.

“Yn!” Lewis greeted her first, crouching down and holding out his fist for a bump. She grinned and knocked her tiny fist against his. “You keeping your dad in check?”

“I try,” she said dramatically. “But you know how he is.”

Lewis laughed as Charles shook his head. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

Bruno, one of the engineers, came over with a smile. “Doing schoolwork in the garage today, Yn?”

Yn nodded, already pulling out her tablet and notebook. “Papa said we have to,” she said with a sigh, shooting her father a playful look.

Charles pulled up a chair next to the workbench and patted the seat beside him. “Alright, let’s see what we have today.”

Yn sat down, flipping open her notebook. “Math,” she groaned. “Fractions.”

Charles leaned over, scanning the page. “Ah, fractions. The bane of every child’s existence.”

“Did you like math when you were little, Papa?” she asked, pencil poised over the paper.

Charles chuckled. “Not really, but I had to be good at it.”

Yn sighed dramatically, picking up her pencil and staring at the problems. “Okay, if I have three-fourths of a pizza and I eat one-fourth, how much do I have left?” she read aloud.

“Hmm,” Charles said, pretending to think hard. “I don’t know, that’s a tough one.”

Yn rolled her eyes. “Papa.”

He grinned. “Alright, alright. You tell me.”

She tapped her chin before scribbling the answer down. “Two-fourths!”

“Or,” Charles prompted.

“One-half?” she said hesitantly.

He ruffled her hair. “Exactement.”

As they worked through the homework, the Ferrari team continued their preparations, but many couldn’t help but glance over at the duo. It was rare to see such a tender moment in the midst of the high-pressure world of Formula 1, and yet, it felt natural in Charles’ case. He had always been a family man, and everyone knew that Yn was the most important person in his life.

At one point, Lando walked into the garage, talking animatedly to one of his mechanics, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene unfolding. He smirked, walking over and leaning against the workbench. “Charles, mate, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this serious before.”

Charles looked up, raising a brow. “I am always serious.”

Lando shook his head. “Not like this. This is next-level focus.”

Yn giggled, looking up at Lando. “He’s just helping me with math.”

“Fractions?” Lando asked, peeking at her notebook. “Oh man, I was terrible at those.”

Yn gasped dramatically. “Even race car drivers are bad at fractions?”

Lando nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. That’s why we have engineers to do all the hard stuff for us.”

Yn turned to Charles. “Papa, can I just get an engineer to do my homework too?”

Lewis, who had been listening, burst into laughter. “Brilliant idea.”

Charles groaned, shaking his head. “Non, non, you do your own work.”

Just then, Fred walked by, taking in the sight of Charles hunched over a notebook with his daughter. He paused, then shook his head with a chuckle. “Maybe we should put you on the strategy team, Charles.”

Yn perked up. “Can I be on the strategy team too?”

Fred smirked. “If you’re better at fractions than your Papa, I’ll consider it.”

Everyone laughed as Charles sighed dramatically. “Why does everyone bully me?”

Yn leaned her head against his arm. “Because we love you, Papa.”

Charles softened immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I love you, ma chérie.”

As the day went on, Charles balanced being both a driver and a father seamlessly. He would answer engineering questions, discuss race strategy, then turn back to Yn’s homework to explain another problem. It was a side of him that many in the paddock admired—a father who made sure his daughter always knew she was his priority.

By the time the schoolwork was done, Yn stretched her arms above her head. “That was exhausting,” she declared.

Charles smirked. “Now you know how I feel after a race.”

“But you love racing,” she pointed out.

“And you love learning,” he countered.

She gave him a look. “Let’s not go that far.”

Lewis walked over, tossing Yn a Ferrari cap. “Since you worked so hard, I think you deserve a reward.”

Yn grinned, putting it on her head. “Merci, Lewlew!”

Charles smiled as he watched her interact with the team, knowing that no matter how many trophies or podiums he earned, nothing would ever mean more to him than the little girl who made his world brighter every single day.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

#f1 drivers as fathers #🩷🎀#formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x daughter!reader #leclerc!reader #dad!charles leclerc #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 x daughter!reader #carlos sainz x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #oscar piastri x reader

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caenewdelhi · 2 years ago

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A Roadmap to Triumph: Excelling Through SAT Practice Tests and GMAT Coaching

In this journey, patterned tests play a crucial duty in forming our futures. For students striving to secure a spot in esteemed institutions, the two essential tools stand out: digital SAT practice tests and GMAT coaching. These resources offer pathways to success, guiding students through the complexities of exams and enhancing their preparation.

Understanding SAT

Digital SAT practice tests are like stepping stones toward exam success. These tests mimic the actual SAT experience, letting you get a feel for what the real deal is like. Moreover, they help you understand the different question types and formats you'll encounter. Practice tests are your study companions, allowing you to assess your strengths and pinpoint areas where you need improvement.

The Convenience Factor: Practicing Anytime, Anywhere

One of the greatest advantages of digital SAT practice tests is their flexibility. You can access these tests whenever and wherever you want. This is a significant plus for students juggling classes, extracurricular activities, and other commitments. Additionally, the next response you endure later in each test is priceless. It helps you label mistakes, get or give an advantage over bureaucracy, and path your progress.

A Personalized Approach

Moving forward, let's talk about GMAT coaching classes. These classes offer something special that practice tests alone might not: personalised guidance. Instructors who are experts in the subject walk you through the GMAT intricacies. Furthermore, these classes encourage peer interaction, allowing you to learn from others' experiences and strategies.

Structured Learning for GMAT Success

Moreover, GMAT coaching classes provide a structured approach to learning. They help you navigate the sea of study materials and resources, ensuring that you cover all sections of the GMAT. This kind of organised planning ensures that no topic is left untouched, giving you a well-rounded understanding of what you'll face on the exam day.

Building Confidence

Confidence is key when you're facing a high-stakes exam like the GMAT. And this is where GMAT coaching classes shine. Instructors with a wealth of experience not only teach you but also motivate you. Their guidance boosts your confidence, making you feel ready to tackle whatever the exam throws at you. Moreover, mock tests held under exam-like conditions prepare you mentally and emotionally.

Tailored Strategies for Individual Growth

No two students are the same. That's where GMAT coaching classes make a difference. They understand that each student has unique strengths and areas to work on. Therefore, these classes offer customised strategies. Whether it's the quantitative section, verbal skills, or analytical writing, you'll get personalised attention to hone your skills effectively.

Your Path to Success

In conclusion, the journey to success in standardised tests might seem challenging, but it's entirely achievable with the right resources. Digital SAT practice tests and GMAT coaching classes are like a dynamic duo that can guide you through this journey. Furthermore, the flexibility and feedback from practice tests, along with the personalised guidance and structured learning from coaching classes, create a powerful combination.

With these tools by your side, you'll navigate the academic landscape with confidence. So, as you embark on your educational voyage, remember that the combination of practice tests and coaching classes can make the road to success smoother and more rewarding.

Source: https://ai.ceo/read-blog/78406

#digital SAT practice tests #GMAT coaching classes #digital sat preparation #abroad education consultants in delhi #digital sat coaching near me #gmat online coaching

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harryspet · 10 months ago

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lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately. At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it.

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow.

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him.

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in.

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again.

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”.

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest.

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness.

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath?

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him.

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not.

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages.

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was.

You didnd’t know any better, but he did.

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again.

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.”

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him.

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?”

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were.

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth.

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit.

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you.

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched.

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued.

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before.

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate.

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.”

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away.

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club.

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet.

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft.

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck.

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape.

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him.

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you.

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face.

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air.

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied.

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you.

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach.

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong.

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts.

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way.

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed.

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt.

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening.

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea.

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly.

“So?” He replied dismissevly.

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up.

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury.

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small.

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings.

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.”

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable.

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink.

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard.

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm.

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like.

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck.

You melted against him.

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere.

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced.

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple.

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies.

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious.

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes.

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end.

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you.

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further.

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered.

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together.

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water, “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual.

You kept sinking.

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you.

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together.

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,” Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him.

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of.

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips.

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him.

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reblog and comment if you enjoyed, would love to know your thoughts!!

#dark fic #rafe cameron #little space #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader

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cheynovak · 13 days ago

Text

Letters and Lies

Mark Meachum x Y/N Female character

Summary: Mark is an actual criminal who's been writing letter to Y/N a college student while he was in prison, he escapes to find this girl who's been giving him hope while he is diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, toxic masculinity, mentioning of crimes such as murder and drug dealing, smut, jealousy, ...

It's a very long one shot. Be prepared.

Y/N had always been the kind of girl who colored inside the lines. Straight-A student. Sociology major. Raised by two teachers who believed rules were sacred. She was the last person anyone would expect to become a prison pen pal.

But something about the name Mark Meachum tugged at her curiosity.

Convicted of murder and suspected ties to the maffia, one of the oldest crime families in the Northeast, Mark was serving life without parole. She told herself it was for a school paper on criminal psychology. Just one letter. But then he wrote back.

His handwriting was clean, almost elegant. His words were careful, sometimes poetic. Mark wrote like a man who lived behind shadows but saw everything in color. In his letters, he wasn’t a killer. He was haunted. Trapped. Human.

Months passed.

Letters turned into confessions. Secrets traded like currency. Y/N shared things she’d never told anyone—not even her roommate. She didn’t know how old he really was. Late thirties, maybe? Mid-forties? It didn’t matter. He made her feel seen. Understood.

And then the letters stopped.

Two weeks. Nothing.

Until one night.

She came back from class, dropped her bag, and found a man sitting on her dorm bed.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She gasped, stumbling back.

He looked exactly like the photos she found online. maybe a little rougher. Shadows under his eyes. Muscles taut like a predator who'd been hunting too long. But those same eyes she'd come to know through envelopes stared at her with an impossible softness.

“Mark?”

He smiled faintly. “You didn’t think I’d stay caged forever, did you?”

Mark told her how he’d got to her. No details. Just that someone owed him a favor. That he had nothing to live for except her.

Y/N was frozen. Torn.

He had killed five men—maybe more. His name was whispered in documentaries, always linked to the Valentis. He didn’t belong in a dorm. Not with her. Not among textbooks and safety flyers.

But he smelled like old paper and danger. Like his letters had come to life.

Mark still sat on the edge of her narrow dorm bed, his shoulders hunched slightly, a small, beat-up duffel bag resting quietly at his feet. He hadn't moved since she let him in. She, on the other hand, paced nervously, arms folded tight around her chest.

"You can stay... just for tonight," Y/N finally said, voice tight, eyes darting toward the door. "But this isn't safe. There are too many people in this building. What if someone sees you?"

Mark didn’t answer right away. Instead, he watched her with that slow, unreadable smirk—like a man keeping secrets behind tired eyes. Not cruel, not sharp—just… unreadable.

"You never told me you were still a student," he said at last.

Y/N froze mid-step, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "I… I told you I was in college."

"You said you went to college. Not that you were a senior. Not that you were still in this life. Dorm rooms and lectures and RA checks."

She hesitated, then looked away. "I didn’t think it was something I’d ever need to explain. I mean, I didn’t think we’d… meet."

Mark nodded slowly, his eyes dropping. "Yeah. I just… I wish you came to visit."

"We were pen pals," she said, gently. Almost apologetic.

He let out a dry laugh, something hollow in it. His hands twisted together on his lap, knuckles pale. "I didn’t know... I didn’t think that... I thought… I thought there was more." He looked up at her, eyes shining with something unspoken. "When you wrote to me Y/N, you didn’t just send paper and ink. You gave me... reason."

Her chest tightened. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.

"I was walking straight into hell, every day, knowing I wouldn’t get out alive. And then your letters came. At first I figured it was just curiosity. I mean, who writes a convict unless they're looking for some kind of edge? But then… you kept writing. You sent music. You told me about your fears. You let me into your life. And suddenly, I didn’t want to die in that place anymore."

Y/N swallowed hard. There was a flutter in her chest—half panic, half something she didn’t want to name. She didn’t know what to say.

Mark bent forward slightly and grabbed the duffel bag. She instinctively stepped back, unsure.

He unzipped it carefully, pulling out a small box. It was scuffed, worn, the kind of thing sold at gas stations or souvenir stands. Cheap plastic, faded blue velvet on the outside. He held it out to her.

"I know it’s not much," he said, voice rough, "but I wanted you to have this. As a token. That I don’t mean you any harm. I know I made a hell of a lot of mistakes, but I’m not going back to that. Not if I’ve got even a sliver of a chance to be someone better."

She opened it slowly.

Inside was a bracelet. Plastic beads strung on elastic, the kind a child might win at a county fair. It was impossibly small. Impossibly sincere.

"I just wanted you to know," he said softly, "how much you already mean to me."

Y/N stared at it for a long moment. Something in her chest ached.

Y/N looked down at the bracelet again. It was laughably cheap—plastic beads strung on a thin elastic cord—but she slipped it onto her wrist like it was a diamond. Her fingers lingered over it for a second too long. Then she looked at him, still sitting on the edge of her bed.

Mark looked like he didn’t quite know where to put himself. That dangerous man from the headlines, the one with mafia ties and a high body count, now seemed awkward—hesitant even.

“Maybe you should go to bed,” he said quietly, almost to her. Then she caught his glance and he quickly added, “I mean—I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s okay.”

Her brow furrowed. “No. You’re not sleeping on the floor."

" I’ve slept on worse.”

She gave him a look. Her bed was barely wide enough for one person. But something inside her softened.

“If you stay on your side,” she said, “then it’s fine.”

Mark blinked. “No no, you're not giving up your mattress."A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips.

As she turned to grab a shirt to sleep in, she hesitated. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“I need to change. Turn. Around.”

“Oh. Right.”

He spun quickly, sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, then the floor, then the duffel bag—as if looking anywhere but her would somehow erase the tension hanging in the air. She kept glancing at him just to make sure he really wasn’t peeking, and he wasn’t.

When she finally said, “Okay,” she was under the covers already.

Mark turned. She handed him her pillow.

“Here. At least take this.”

He tried to wave it off. “Beds in prison weren’t much better than floors. I’ll be alright.”

“Just take the damn pillow.”

He did, with a quiet thank you. She pulled out an old fleece blanket from her bottom drawer and tossed it to the floor beside him. He lay down fully clothed, head on the pillow, arms behind his head.

They were only a few feet apart, face to face, eyes catching in the dark.

Y/N broke the silence first. Her voice was low, unsure. “This has to be a dream. Some mad dream.”

Mark didn’t speak right away. Then, softly, “I really wanted to be with you. And I know this is hard for you. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

He trailed off.

She blinked. “Didn’t think what?”

“I didn’t think it through,” he murmured. “I guess I thought you'd stay a letter. An idea.”

She laughed. Not cruelly—genuinely, involuntarily. It bubbled out of her before she could stop it. Mark blinked at her. “What’s funny?”

“You,” she said, grinning. “You didn’t think breaking out of jail through?”

He laughed too, eyes crinkling, head falling back against the pillow. “Okay. That part I did think through. Sort of.”

They both lay there, giggling under their breath, and then silence settled again, but softer now.

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking up at her. There was something gentle in his eyes, something dangerous in how it made her feel.

Something snapped.

“Get your ass in bed, Mark.”

His brows lifted. “What?”

“You heard me.

He didn’t ask again.

Mark stood and carefully slid into the bed behind her. She turned away, spine stiff. He settled in, fully clothed, arms carefully kept to himself. But she could feel the heat of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid weight of a man who wasn’t supposed to be real.

“I mean it,” she said over her shoulder. “Nothing funny. I will scream so loud, this whole floor’s going to bust in here.”

He smiled softly. “No funny business. Hands to myself. Promise.”

They didn’t say another word.

Sometime during the night, Mark’s arm had shifted.

Now it draped lazily over her waist.

Y/N was still half-asleep, eyes squinting at the dawn light filtering through the blinds, when she realized two things:

One—she had leaned back into him.

Two—he was... aroused.

Oh God. Her whole body stiffened.

Mark stirred behind her. A beat passed. Then he tensed too.

“Sorry,” he said instantly, voice low, gravelly with sleep. “Shit. Sorry. It’s—it’s nothing. I just—I haven’t—” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time. I didn’t mean—my body just—”

“Shut up,” she said quickly, already wriggling out from under the blanket. “It’s fine. Just—it’s fine.”

She jumped to her feet, her face flushed. Her bracelet caught the morning light, a ridiculous flash of pink and blue beads. She reached for her towel, only then realizing what she was wearing—a tank top with no bra and thin pajama shorts that barely reached mid-thigh.

Mark was turned on his side, politely facing the wall.

But she caught him glance back once—just a flick of his eyes before he returned to pretending he was interested in the wall paint.

“Maybe you should, um, get a shower,” he said quickly. “And… get dressed.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Yep.”

She grabbed her toiletries and bolted out of the room, heart hammering in her ears, bracelet bouncing lightly on her wrist as she fled the most awkward morning of her life.

When Y/N returned from the shower, her skin still flushed from the heat and her damp hair braided loosely over one shoulder, Mark was still where she’d left him—sprawled on the blanket like a convict pretending to be domestic.

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve gotta get to class soon.”

He nodded, sitting up slowly. “Yeah, I figured.”

She grabbed her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. “What are you gonna do all day? Just sit around here?”

Mark smirked, tugging his jacket on. “Thought I’d head into town. Maybe get some clothes that don’t smell like a prison cell.”

She frowned and walked over to her dresser, pulling a few folded bills from a mug. “Here. Take this."

He stood, staring at the cash like it was cursed. “Sweetheart, I’m not taking money from a girl.”

“I’m not a girl, I’m a woman,” she shot back, handing him the money anyway. “And unless you’re planning on robbing a store, you’ll need it.”

He didn’t move.

She crossed her arms. “You are planning on stealing it, aren’t you?”

Mark gave her a look—offended, amused, and caught. “I was gonna figure something out. Maybe pick up a job, day labor or something.”

She softened. Only a little. “Fine. But if you end up in jail again, I’m not writing letters this time.”

He smiled like she’d just confessed she cared. “Deal.”

As she moved toward the door, she hesitated. “Hey—tonight, there’s a party. In the woods, off campus. My friends are dragging me. You wanna come?”

His eyes lit up. “Depends. Is there beer?”

“Obviously.”

“Then yeah. I haven’t had one that didn’t taste like mop water in years.”

Later that night, Mark stood beside her outside the house she rented with two roommates. He wore new jeans and a plain dark tee, fresh boots on his feet. His hair was combed back, scruff trimmed, but he still looked like someone with scars beneath the surface.

Y/N was in high-rise jeans and a cropped, lace-trimmed top that did terrible things to his self-control. Her makeup was soft and warm, her eyes outlined in gold, her lips glossy. She looked... grown.

Mark couldn't stop looking.

“You’re staring,” she muttered, adjusting her bag.

He looked away, but not for long. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

Before she could answer, headlights flashed.

A small, beat-up car pulled up, bass thudding. Jessica leaned out the window. “Let’s go, party bitch!”

They got in. Y/N slid into the passenger seat, Mark into the back.

Jessica glanced in the mirror, frowning. “Who’s this?”

“Oh—this is my uncle. Uncle Mark.” Mark froze. Your what?

Jessica blinked. “Your... uncle?”

Y/N turned casually in her seat. “Yeah. Uncle Mark. My fun uncle. Not the physicist. The cool one. He taught me how to shotgun a beer.”

Jessica’s brows lifted. “Since when do you have a fun uncle? I thought your family was, like, painfully academic.”

Y/N smiled tightly. “Different sides of the family.”

Mark cleared his throat and looked out the window, jaw twitching.

The woods were already alive with bass and smoke by the time they arrived. A bonfire blazed in the clearing. Red solo cups passed between dancing students. People shouted, flirted, made out against trees.

Mark stuck close to Y/N. He kept one hand on his drink, the other never far from her.

He laughed more tonight than he had in years. People believed the "uncle" story easily enough—probably because no one expected a 30-something ex-con to blend into a campus party. But he kept getting looks. Especially from guys.

And then he showed up.

Tyler.

He was tall, drunk, wearing a letterman jacket even though college had started two years ago. His eyes locked on Y/N, and his lips curled in a smug, ugly way.

“Y/N,” he slurred. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Y/N stiffened. Mark immediately noticed the way her shoulders squared.

“Didn’t know you were back,” Tyler said, eyeing Mark. "I missed you babe."

"T, please don’t do this, you know we're over."

“Who is he?" Tyler nodded towards Mark. "You're new toy? He doesn’t look like your type. What, did Daddy cut you off and you had to downgrade?”

Y/N tried to push past him. “Leave me alone, Tyler.”

Tyler grabbed her wrist—not hard, but just enough. "Never, we belong Y/N. You and me."

Mark stepped between them. “Hey back off, leave her alone.”

Tyler squinted. “Who the hell are you? Her new daddy? You the one she gets on her knees for now?”

Mark’s eyes flared.

Y/N’s voice cracked: “Tyler—”

“I mean,” Tyler kept going, sneering, “she always was a good little slut. Always begging." he turned to Y/N "You his little whore now? Do ypu do that thing when you-”

The punch landed before Tyler finished the sentence.

Mark didn’t hold back. One hit, then another. Tyler stumbled, then fell. Mark followed, fists flying. Students were shouting. Someone yelled, “Yo, get your phone!” Another screamed, “He’s killing him!”

Y/N grabbed Mark’s shoulder, her voice sharp. “Mark! Mark, stop!” He froze mid-swing, breathing hard. Blood smeared his knuckles. Tyler groaned, curled up on the ground.

“We need to go. Right now.”

Mark looked at her—eyes wild, heart pounding—and nodded.

They ran, vanishing into the dark, into the trees, into the consequences they were running out of time to avoid.

The woods behind them still echoed with the chaos they'd left behind—music, shouting, Tyler’s blood on the ground. But now it was just the two of them, walking in strained silence through the night back toward campus.

Y/N stormed ahead, arms crossed tight, rage simmering beneath every step.

Mark walked a few feet behind, like a scolded dog who didn’t regret what he’d done, just that it upset her.

Finally, she spun around. “What the hell was that, Mark?!”

He raised his eyebrows, incredulous. “Are you serious right now? He called you a slut. He grabbed you. I defended you.”

“Defended me?” she snapped. “You almost killed him!”

“I pulled my punches.”

“Bullshit!” she exploded. “You’re fresh out of prison with no self-control. Do you realize people filmed you? Your face is all over half the phones at that party. You basically put a flashing sign over your head that says ‘Hey! I’m an escaped convict, come arrest me!’”

He stayed quiet. Smirking.

She fumed. “Why are you smiling? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mark’s smirk deepened. “You care about me.”

“No, I don’t,” she snapped, too fast.

He tilted his head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to say it.

“I care that you're not caught!” she shouted, voice cracking. “Because if you’re caught, you go back to jail, and—God, I don't know—maybe you’ll rot there. I care about that. That’s it.”

But the heat in her voice wasn’t just anger. And he knew it.

She walked faster. He didn’t push. He just followed a few steps behind, silent, like a shadow wearing leather and guilt.Back at her dorm, she fumbled with the key at the door, hands shaking with adrenaline and fury.

Mark leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

“I told you I don’t want you here anymore,” she snapped. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

His voice was calm. “No, you won’t.”

She glared at him. “And why the hell not?”

He stepped in slightly—close enough to crowd her, not enough to scare her. His arms caged the frame around her, and he leaned down until his mouth was nearly against her ear.

“Because I’m your uncle,” he whispered. “And you wouldn’t call the cops on your uncle, right?”

Y/N let out a strangled sound, then burst into a surprised laugh, hitting him lightly on the chest. “You absolute jerk.”

He grinned. “That hurt, you know. The uncle part.”

“I didn’t know what else to tell Jessica,” she muttered. “I couldn’t say you were some escaped criminal I’ve been writing love letters to.”

“You could’ve said I was your boyfriend,” he said, voice lower now, looking directly at her lips.

Her breath caught. Her cheeks went pink. “I... I don’t even know if you are.”

Mark’s hand rose, slow and gentle, fingers grazing her cheek. He leaned in, voice rough and intimate. “Then let’s change that.”

And he kissed her.

Not soft, not sweet. Hungry. Intense. The kiss of someone who thought he’d never get this, and now that he had it, wasn’t letting go.

She kissed back just as fiercely—fingers digging into his jacket, body pressing into his.

When they finally pulled apart, her lips were swollen, breath ragged.

“Why did you escape?” she whispered, still dazed.

Mark exhaled, turning his head slightly like he didn’t want to answer. But then he did.

“I have a brain tumor,” he said flatly. “Diagnosed right before your first letter. Stage three. No treatment insight. I figured I’d die behind bars.”

Y/N froze.

“But then you started writing,” he continued, eyes locking with hers. “You made me feel alive again. Not just... angry or guilty. I had something to hope for. Someone. I broke out because I wanted to see you—just once. Kiss you once. Be near you before I go."

Tears welled in her eyes. Her lip trembled. She stepped forward without thinking, fingers threading through his hair, and pulled him into another kiss.

This one was deeper. Slower. Her heart was breaking, but her mouth was saying stay.

She didn’t stop when he lifted her gently into his arms. Didn’t stop as her hands tugged off his shirt and traced every scar on his skin like they were all hers to memorize.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the world outside no longer existed.

Mark stood in the soft glow of her dorm room, shirtless now, shadows playing across his chest like they were drawn to him. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the universe keeping him grounded—his breath, his gravity, his reason for escaping

Y/N’s skin buzzed with the memory of his kiss. Her heart pounded, but not with fear

With want.

With everything she’d been too afraid to admit since that first letter.

He reached for her slowly, like she might vanish if he moved too fast. His fingers touched her face with reverence, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice deep and ragged, “how long I’ve dreamed of this.”

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed. “Then stop dreaming.”

That was all he needed.

She fell back onto the bed, her pulse thrumming, lips swollen from his kiss. Mark stood over her, his chest rising and falling like he was holding back a storm, watching her with eyes that saw through every inch of her, stripping her bare even though she already was.

“You still sure?” he asked, voice a low growl, gravel and heat. She nodded slowly, chest heaving, but her voice was steady. “Yes. I want you.”

That was all it took.

He crawled over her slowly, like a man savoring the last moment before tasting something forbidden. His fingers brushed along her waist, soft, reverent, before his palms slid under the backs of her thighs, dragging her closer to him like she was gravity itself.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against her skin, his lips tracing fire across her belly. “How much I thought about this... about you.”

She gasped when he kissed lower, his stubble brushing sensitive skin, every press of his lips a confession.

He didn’t rush.

Mark worshipped.

He explored her with the patience of a man who’d spent years with nothing but dreams, and now that she was beneath him—soft, warm, gasping his name—he needed to memorize every second. His lips found every place that made her tremble. His hands pinned hers gently above her head, not to control her, but to feel her, to anchor himself.

And when he finally moved against her—slow, deep, devoted—she arched beneath him, clutching his shoulders like he was something between salvation and sin.

He kissed her through it.

Held her hips still. Praised her with every breath.

He moved back over her skin to her mouth and kissed her again—slower this time, deeper. His hands curved around her waist, thumbs brushing bare skin beneath her shirt, sending sparks across every nerve ending.

He was careful, even though he clearly burned to touch her more. He let her guide it. "You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

He kissed down her neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses across her collarbone, his hands holding her like something precious. He worshipped every inch of her, like each part of her was a prayer he was whispering with his lips.

Every sigh she gave him, he answered with a gentle murmur, a worshipful touch, like she was giving him the world and he was unworthy—but would spend his last night alive earning it.

When she pulled him closer, wanting more, he didn’t rush. He didn’t take.

He gave in, pressing his hips against hers. Feeling how her body was trying to accept him.

Every movement was slow, deliberate. His hands explored her with aching care, mapping her body like he was trying to memorize every soft dip and edge before time stole her away. He asked her what she liked without words, listening to the rhythm of her breath, the hitch in her throat, the way her back arched under his palms

It wasn’t frenzied.

It was everything.

Mark didn’t just touch her—he held her. He looked her in the eyes with every breath, like he needed her to see what she meant to him, how she’d given him more life in a few weeks of letters than prison ever could

He moved with her like he knew her body better than she did—every motion perfectly timed, every kiss setting her soul on fire. And when she fell apart beneath him, her voice caught in his name, he held her through every tremor like she was glass and he was the only one who knew how to keep her whole.

They didn’t speak for a while after.

They didn’t need to.

He wrapped her in the sheets and pulled her to his chest, his arms tight around her like he could keep the world away just by holding her close enough.

She lay there, head on his chest, fingers tracing the line of a scar near his heart.

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” she asked, voice soft, sleepy.

Mark brushed a kiss to her forehead, his thumb stroking her back.

“No,” he said. “It was more.” He pulled the blanket over her, tucked her into his chest, and whispered, “You just ruined me for anyone else.”

The room was still draped in soft gray morning light, thin curtains casting streaks of shadow across the rumpled bed where Mark lay half-asleep, his broad chest rising slowly beneath the sheets. A faint sound—fabric rustling, a zipper—made his eyes flutter open.

He blinked once, then again, as he saw her near the door, stuffing clothes into a bag.

“...You runnin’ on me?” His voice was hoarse, laced with sleep and something rawer—fear.

She turned, half-grinning as she pushed her hair back. “No. I think it’s time we ran, though. The video from last night’s party? It’s already online. Someone recognized you, and it’s spreading fast. It’s only a matter of time before someone shows up.”

Mark sat up slowly, the sheet slipping down to his waist, his bare torso streaked with soft scars, muscle, vulnerability. His brows pulled together, jaw tight. “You’re serious.”

She nodded and tossed a hoodie over her head. “Dead serious. I checked Twitter. TikTok. Local news. It’s everywhere.”

Mark let out a breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Look… I can’t ask this of you. Running, hiding—this isn’t your life, sweetheart. You deserve better. If going back to prison means you feel safe, then I’ll do it."

She froze.

Then, slowly, she stepped toward him—past the panic, past the chaos—and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Still sitting, he was eye level with her chest, but when he looked up, all he could see was her—calm, determined, radiant.

“You think I want that for you?” she whispered, brushing his hair back, her thumb grazing the scar near his temple. “I was scared, Mark. I’m still scared. But something happened last night. I felt it. The same connection I felt in those letters… it’s real.”

She swallowed thickly, blinking back the emotions building behind her eyes. “I believe you’re not who they say you are. Not anymore. And if that means it’s us against the world, then so be it. I’m not letting you face it alone.”

He stared at her for a long beat, his throat tight, chest rising with something deeper than gratitude. It was hope.

“Damn, you’re somethin’ else,” he whispered, reaching up to cup the side of her face. “You’re trouble.”

She smiled, eyes glinting. “Maybe it’s my turn to be.”

—

They slipped out the back of her dorm, made their way to a no-name motel on the edge of town—a place people didn’t ask questions, where the night smelled like asphalt and secrets. They stayed curled into each other for a while, whispering promises and silent dreams while the world outside turned loud with their names.

Later, while she scrolled through her phone with trembling fingers, she saw her name—her face—plastered on every local channel. Her parents had gone public, begging for her to come home.

Her mother was crying on screen.

Her father’s voice cracked when he asked, “Y/N, if you’re out there… we just need to know you’re safe. Please. Just let us hear your voice.”

Mark looked over her shoulder. “Do you want to call them?”

She shook her head, placing the phone facedown on the nightstand. “They’ve never looked at me like that. Not once. I spent my whole life trying to be the good one. Get the grades. Get into college. Keep quiet while they gave everything to my sister because she was always the one in trouble.”

Mark leaned in, silent, listening.

Her voice cracked. “I’m done being quiet. If I can be ‘trouble’ and it means I stand by the man I love? Then I’ll take every damn consequence.”

Mark’s expression softened—his hand found hers, fingers intertwining slowly.

“You love me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. And he kissed her then—slow, deep, full of everything he couldn’t say.

Their mouths moved together, heat blooming between them. His hands roamed her sides, anchoring her to him like she was the last good thing in his life. She climbed into his lap, legs straddling him, and he kissed her again and again until the world outside the motel room could’ve burned down and they wouldn't have noticed.

His hand moved over her back when he whispered. "In another lifetime I'd given you our own apartment. no more running or anything illegal. I'd be the honest man you deserve, who brews shitty coffee every morning for you, and you'd love me for it."

Y/N loved that idea.

But then—a hard knock on the door.

BOOM BOOM BOOM.

They froze.

Another slam. Louder. Urgent. Aggressive.

Mark’s eyes locked with hers.

Neither of them had to say it.

They found us.

The knock had turned into a full-blown pounding, voices shouting outside the motel door.

By the time Mark and Y/N were dressed, tension buzzing under their skin, it was too late. The second they opened the door, hands raised, police were already waiting with drawn weapons—shouting, grabbing.

“Get down! Hands behind your head! Now!”

Mark kept his body half in front of her as much as possible. They didn’t resist—there was no point—but the moment the officers got their hands on them, it turned aggressive. One cop shoved Mark roughly against the wall, twisting his arm behind his back. Y/N cried out when a female officer gripped her wrist too tight, yanking her a few steps away from him.

“Don’t hurt her!” Mark barked, turning instinctively. “She’s not—”

“Shut the hell up,” the officer snarled, slamming him back against the concrete wall.

Neither of them were cuffed yet—but they were both trapped.

And then she saw them.

Her parents.

Waiting just past the police line, standing stiffly. Her mother was pale and red-eyed. Her father’s jaw was clenched, arms crossed like a judge ready to deliver a sentence.

“Y/N!” her mother cried out, stepping forward.

She flinched. “Mom—?”

Her father cut in before she could say more.

“You’re coming with us. Right now.”

“But Mark—”

Then came the officer’s voice from behind her.

“You are being charged with aiding a fugitive. And you,” the man barked at Mark, “are being arrested for escape from prison, resisting arrest, and—” he paused for emphasis, “kidnapping a young woman and coercing her into a sexual relationship.”

The words hit her like a truck.

“What?” she turned sharply, eyes wide, voice cracking. “No. No! He didn’t kidnap me! He didn’t coerce me into anything! We—he didn’t do anything wrong!”

The police ignored her.

“Mark!” she yelled, struggling in the officer’s grip. “Tell them!"

Mark’s eyes were hard now, his jaw tight as he stared straight ahead. His chest was heaving, but he didn’t speak.

And that’s when her father stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and Mark. “Stop defending this man,” he said lowly. “He used you. He brainwashed you.”

“I love him,” she shot back, voice trembling. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Her father’s hand came across her cheek—a sharp, open-palm slap that made her stumble back a step.

Everything stopped.

Mark lunged. “You son of a bitch!”

Officers grabbed him, forced him to the ground, a knee pressing into his back as he writhed beneath them, roaring with rage.

“Keep your fucking hands off her!” Mark bellowed. “You think you’re some kind of father? You don’t know how to love her! You never deserved her!”

Her father took a step back, startled by the fury in Mark’s voice. The cops barked orders over the chaos, forcing Mark’s arms tighter behind his back.

“Mark!” she screamed, rushing forward.

No one stopped her.

The officers were still busy holding him down, but one eventually raised him to his feet, his face bruised and twisted with emotion.

She ran to him.

She held his face in both her hands, ignoring the gasps and the shouts.

“I’m going to fight for you,” she whispered, forehead resting against his. “You hear me? We’re not done. I’ll do whatever it takes. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care what they think.”

His breathing slowed for a moment. Their eyes locked. A half smile curved his lips.

“You’re my miracle,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait. I’ll fight too.” She pressed her lips to his—a deep, fearless kiss, full of salt and desperation and devotion.

There were gasps, voices rising in outrage behind her, but she didn’t care. Her hands held his jaw, his cheeks, trying to hold on just a second longer.

Then the officers dragged her back. “No—no! Please!” But she was already being shoved into her parents’ car.

Mark was placed into the back of the police cruiser, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the door shut, as the car pulled away, her heart slammed in her chest, loud and unrelenting. They could throw handcuffs on him, throw her into silence—but they couldn’t stop what they’d already built.

The room was silent but thick with tension, packed with onlookers, reporters, and a wall of cameras in the back. Mark sat in the defendant's box, hands cuffed in front of him, wearing the orange jumpsuit again — that same suit he’d once promised her he’d never wear again. His jaw was clenched, but his eyes were only ever on her.

Y/N took the stand.

She walked slowly, her heels clicking softly against the courtroom floor. As she sat, she could feel every pair of eyes on her — the girl who ran away with a convict. Some looked at her with pity. Others with judgment. But none of them knew the truth.

Only she and Mark did.

A judge cleared his throat. “Miss Y/L/N, you understand you’re here under oath. You may begin your statement.”

She nodded. Her throat was tight, but her voice didn’t waver.

“Your Honors… I know what this looks like. I know what the headlines are saying. But I need you to listen to me — not to them. Not to the people who’ve never spoken a word to Mark. Not to the people who don’t know what he’s actually done for me.”

The courtroom was still. Even the air didn’t seem to move.

“I wasn’t kidnapped. I wasn’t forced. I ran with him. I chose him. I knew what I was doing. Mark never hurt me. Never even raised his voice at me. He protected me, listened to me, respected me. For the first time in my life, someone made me feel like I mattered.”

One of the prosecutors shifted in his seat, but the judges remained focused.

“He didn’t break out of prison for revenge. He didn’t come looking for a fight. He came because he thought he was going to die alone in a cell. He wanted to see me — just once. And in that moment, I saw him too. Not a criminal. Not a monster. Just a man who’s been through hell and still found a way to be gentle.”

She paused, eyes drifting to Mark. His eyes were red now. He blinked hard and looked away.

"I understand he broke the law by escaping. I’m not denying that. But the new charges? Kidnapping? Coercion?” She shook her head. “That’s not what happened. I was a willing adult. I wasn’t brainwashed. I wasn’t abused. I loved him. I still do.”

Gasps in the gallery. The judge held up a hand to silence them.

Y/N leaned forward, her voice shaking now.

"I know what love looks like. I never got it from my family the way I needed it. I got good grades, I followed every rule, but it was never enough. My sister was always the one they saw. I was always the one in the background. Until Mark. He saw me. He never asked me to change or shrink myself. He told me I was strong. And he meant it.”

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re going to sentence him today. Maybe add years. Decades. But I needed you to hear this first: He didn’t ruin my life. He saved it.”

There was nothing else to say.

The room stayed still as she stepped down. She walked past the prosecutor’s table, past the cameras, past the people whispering in the back. When she reached Mark’s seat, she met his eyes again.

He mouthed, “Thank you.”

And she mouthed back, “I love you."

The hum of the fluorescent lights above was the only sound in the cold, sterile visitation waiting room. The plastic chair beneath YN creaked every time she shifted, her fingers knotted tightly in her lap. She had come every week for over a year now—never missing a visit. Rain, snow, midterms, exhaustion—nothing stopped her.

And today felt no different.

Except for the way her stomach twisted. The way the guards were taking longer than usual. The way silence held the room tighter than normal.

Then a door opened.

Her head shot up.

A guard stepped through. Not the one who usually escorted her to the visitation booth. This one looked younger. Paler. His uniform was wrinkled, his eyes rimmed red.

He didn’t meet her eyes right away.

“Miss YN?”

Her breath hitched. “Yeah?”

The guard took off his cap. His fingers trembled. “I’m… I’m so sorry. There’s no easy way to say this.”

She stood up slowly, heart pounding. “No.”

“Mark passed away an hour ago. The tumor… it moved too fast. The doctors told him last week that he might have more time, but it turns out… it was just a final burst of energy. False hope.”

“No.” Her voice broke. “He was getting better. He told me—he felt better.”

"That sometimes happens,” the guard said quietly. “Right before the end. It’s like… the flame flares once more before it goes out."

She covered her mouth, stumbling back slightly, her legs threatening to give out. She had promised she’d be here. She had been here. And now—he was gone.

“You’re welcome to say goodbye,” the guard added gently. “If you’d like.”

The infirmary was quiet.

The bed was neatly made around him. His face was still—peaceful. The tension he always carried in his jaw, gone. His lips were slightly parted, and his hand rested loosely on his chest.

YN stepped in, holding herself together by sheer force of will. Every breath hurt.

She sat beside him, brushing a piece of his hair back from his forehead. Her thumb traced over the scar at his temple—the one she’d kissed too many times to count.

“You told me not to cry when this day would come,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You told me you'd fight it the be with me as long as you could. And you did, Mark. God, you did.”

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She leaned in, pressed her lips to his cooling forehead, and lingered there.

“I hope you’re free now,” she whispered. “I hope it’s warm, wherever you are. I hope they let you drink cold beer, and play poker, and maybe you finally get to sleep through the night.”

She sat up just enough to see his face again.

“In another lifetime,” she said softly, “we’ll be happy. I’ll meet you at the right time. In the right place. And there won’t be bars, or orange suits, or clocks ticking over us.”

Her voice broke.

“We’ll have our little apartment. I’ll wake up next to you, and you’ll make me coffee you still don’t know how to brew right. And I’ll kiss you every morning for the rest of our lives."

She closed her eyes and held his hand for a while longer.

Then she stood up, kissed his forehead one last time, and walked away—heart shattered, but love unbroken.

"In another lifetime, my love."

The small funeral had been quiet. Just her, the chaplain, and a cheap wooden urn she didn’t choose. No music, no headstone. Just a memory of him, sealed by silence.

YN hadn’t seen his body since that day in prison.

Now she stood in the entryway of the old farmhouse they once dreamed about. She bought it anyway. She painted the door his favorite color. The porch creaked with every step, like it missed him too.

Her keys jingled in her numb fingers as she opened the front door. The house was still half-furnished. Dust settled on the kitchen counter. A kettle whistled weakly, forgotten.

She walked inside, and that’s when she saw it.

A letter.

Folded perfectly. Her name in his handwriting on the envelope. Her knees nearly gave out as she stared at it.

Trembling, she opened it.

---

> "If you're reading this, it means I'm gone."

Her breath hitched.

> "I don’t know how much time I had left, but I asked one of the guards to get this to you in case the tumor took me before I could say everything. Properly."

> "I wish I'd met you earlier. I wish I could’ve known you when I was still whole. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up where I did. Maybe you would’ve saved me before I ever needed saving."

Her hands covered her mouth. Tears welled up fast.

> "You gave me more life in those few days than I ever had behind bars. And it’s killing me that I couldn’t give you more than a few stolen moments."

> "I know you say you’d wait for me. That you’d fight for me. But baby, you deserve a good life. A man who can walk beside you in the sun. Who doesn’t carry ghosts in his chest. You deserve coffee in the morning, hands brushing over paint cans while you fix up that little old house of ours. You deserve more."

> "But if you ever feel me near, if you ever dream of me… know that I’m never really gone. I’ll always be with you. In the creaks of the floorboards, in the wind that shakes the porch, in every damn beat of that heart you gave me."

> "Live, YN. For the both of us. Just in case I never get to come back."

> "All my love, now and forever—Mark."

Tears streamed freely now, unchecked. The letter slid from her fingers onto the table. She pressed her hands to her face, letting the grief come. The ache. The knowing that he was truly gone.

She walked to the window, needing air—needing anything.

And that’s when she saw him.

A figure in the distance, standing still in the golden grass. Hands in his jacket pockets. Broad shoulders. A familiar tilt to his head.

Mark.

Her heart stopped.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no—this isn’t real.”

But she was already running.

She flew out the front door barefoot, across the porch, stumbling into the tall grass.

“MARK!”

He didn’t move. He just waited.

She reached him, tears spilling down her cheeks, breath ragged.

When she leapt into his arms, they both tumbled down into the grass, tangled in each other. She kissed him, kissed every inch of his face. Her hands gripped his shirt like if she let go, he’d vanish again.

“You bastard,” she sobbed. “I buried you. I buried you. I thought you were dead—I read your goddamn letter—how could you do that to me?!”

His arms wrapped around her tightly. “Because it was the only way to ever be with you.”

She blinked up at him, heart pounding.

“I had to die,” he said softly. “The man I was… he would’ve always been hunted. I didn’t want that for you. So I disappeared. I made them think I was gone. And now—”

He exhaled, eyes full of everything he could never say.

“Now I’m not Mark-the-con. I’m just a man who wants to build a life with you. I’ll fix this house. I’ll love you the way you deserve. If you still want me.”

She looked at him, wide-eyed, tears still fresh. Her voice broke as she whispered, “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

He kissed her again, deep and aching, in the middle of the wild grass and the wind. And the ghosts didn’t follow them this time.

Only love did.

---

taglist: Jensen: @jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn @deanswifeyy @lmg14

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #soldier boy #dean winchester #spn #the boys #smut #countdown amazon prime #countdown #mark meachum

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tojisbbg · 4 months ago

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compass

❝i think i need you with me for all-time, when i need new direction for my mind.❞

♡ sylus ♡

sypnosis: april showers bring may flowers, transitioning from winter to spring; life will once again feel warmer and brighter. but, who knew that instead of getting flowers... the rain has brought you an injured crow.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: hehe, hello sweeties. i am back with another lads fic and this time i present to you with our babygirl sylus (who also happens to be my main). i thought of this cute little idea for him because it's been storming all week, so hope you guys like it! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: sylus x fem!reader, sylus gets turned into a crow (lmfao), crackfic/fluff, not edited.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆

you stirred awake, groaning as you managed to peel one eyelid open. your curtains were still open, but you noticed how it was darker outside than before, your windows still wet as you could hear the pitter-patter sounds of the rain. you tapped your phone screen, showing you that it was nearly seven in the evening.

it's been storming frequently this past month, and this week by far had the most rain. nonetheless, you were grateful that you had a light schedule for work.

you were in the process of training to be a hunter under the deepspace hunter association, but your classes canceled for the week due to the weather. so, everything was online and easy.

sitting up, you rubbed the remaining sleep out of your eyes. you scanned your room in search of your cat, piki, who initially joined you for your nap earlier. however, it seems that she had abandoned you so soon.

you got off your bed, slipping on your slipper before exiting your room. the house was dark, making the atmosphere more gloomy, so you decided to turn on your lights before lighting the candle on your counter.

"piki?" you called out for your calico, shimmying on the smooth wooden floors as you looked for the feline. however, she was nowhere to be found.

"what the hell?" you furrowed your eyebrows, now internally panicking 'cause where the hell did your damn cat go?!

before you could go into a full meltdown, you heard the familiar jingling noise of a bell, exhaling in relief. as expected, your cat entered through the small flap on your main door.

you crossed your arms over your chest, sighing like a disappointed mother as you prepared yourself to give your naughty child an earful.

"piki! i've been looking everywhere for you- oh my god!" your eyes widened as you noticed the feline look up at you with an innocent look—

with a crow in her mouth!

you couldn't even process the whole situation, did your cat just murder an innocent crow? was it alive? by the looks of it, either it was one hell of a nonchalant crow or it really was dead.

"bad girl, piki, put him down! oh my god!" you scolded, watching her spit the poor bird onto your floor. you bent down, looking at the crow that was drenched from the rain and some remnants of piki's spit.

"oh no... i'm so sorry.." you whispered, eyes softening as you took a gentle finger to stroke the top of the crow's head. your touch didn't go unnoticed, as his wings twitched.

a strangled caw left his beak as the crow struggled to pick himself up. you scooped him up in your hands, careful of his wet black feathers as you examined his wings.

"looks like you hurt yourself, little guy. don't worry, i'll help you." a warm smile etched on your lips, talking to the crow as if your words could be understood.

you stood up, bringing the crow to your bathroom as you gentle placed him in your sink.

"let's clean you up first." you turned on the water and began to rinse off piki's spit as the bird obediently let you touch him.

after doing so, you turned off the faucet and grabbed the small hand-towel to dry him before bringing him into your room. you placed the crow on your desk as you sat on your chair.

"i never cared for a bird before, but i'll try my best." you assured, grabbing the first aid kit from your drawer as you set it down; pulling out some medical tape and bandages.

you carefully held his injured wing, wrapping the bandage and tape around it to secure it. the crow occasionally cawed and flinched, making your heart clench.

"i know, i know, i'm sorry. just a bit more." you comforted the bird with a soft voice, finishing up your work.

you placed the lat strip of tape on to seal everything. a satisfied grin danced on your lips, happy with your skills.

"there, all done." you chirped, noticing how the crow now turned away from you, not meeting your gaze.

"aww, no need to be embarrassed. it's okay." you chuckled, stroking the top of his head. the crow immediately turned his head towards you, an angry caw squalled out of his beak.

"a thank you would've been nice, y'know." you teased, making the bird go quiet.

the crow stood up, slightly wobbling as he tried to walk with his feet; but it was more so like a little limp. you didn't know what happened to him (praying to god piki wasn't the culprit for his injuries) but you knew that it would take him some time to heal. the crow suddenly lost his balance, falling on his butt before staring up at you with big, black beady eyes.

"hey, you don't have to push yourself so hard. you can stay here until you get better." you gently pet him, feeling how soft the black feathers encasing him were.

and just like that, you spent the rest of your evening with the crow perched on your desk, like a showpiece; watching you complete your report. surprisingly, he was well-behaved, not cawing to disturb you.

you soon finished, placing your pen down before turning your attention to the bird.

"hmm... i can't just keep calling you my 'little guy' or 'birdie'. i should give you a name." you suggested, about to indulge yourself into a deep pondering moment; only for him to spring to life and cawing, taking you by surprise.

he lifted himself up before walking over to your report. then, he bent down and begin to tap his beak on the paper to different letters.

"what are you doing?" you asked in bewilderment.

you once read in your biology textbooks that crows are one of the most intelligent animals to ever exist; having amazingsocial skills and intelligence.

but this was just....incredible—

a bird telling you his name.

so, you followed the letters he pointed to.

s-y-l-u-s.

"sylus?" you called out-loud, making the crow caw in agreement.

"what a pretty name for such a handsome bird. someone must've named you that, huh?" you smiled fondly, petting him once again.

and just like that, the crow—well, sylus, became a part of your routine.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

sylus woke up and tried to stretch out his little legs, unknowingly stretching out his injured wing as a small caw left his beak. he noticed the figure sleeping on the bed, glancing at the clock that showed it was well past noon.

he hopped off the desk and onto the chair before hopping across to the bed. with small, wobbly steps, he managed to bring his tiny body to her pillow. then, he softly bent down and began to peck his shiny, black beak on your forehead.

your eyebrows knitted together at the feeling of something poking you, opening your eyes to be met with tiny, beady ones looking at you.

"sylus?" you groggily called out, the crow cawing in response.

you sat up, stretching your arms before looking down at him as he jumped onto your lap. you chuckled, using one had to scoop him in your hands while the other came in suit to stroke his feathers.

"good morning to you too." you hummed, feeling the bird nuzzle into your palm.

he was cute and soft.

your eyes trailed away and fell onto the clock hung on your wall, eyes blowing open as you realized-

"shit, i'm late!" you gasped, carefully setting sylus to the side as you began to scramble to get ready.

the crow watched you rush. how your fingers fiddles with your white button up as your mouth simultaneously chewed on your toast. the way you were packing your bag while fixing your hair at the same time.

you were a mess, but a pretty mess in his eyes.

as you walked to the door, you quickly remembered something.

sylus heard your footsteps coming back into your bedroom, a piece of buttered toast in your hands as you set it on a paper-towel on your desk.

"i don't know what crows eat, but you can munch on this for now. be a good boy, sylus." you stroked the top of his head before leaving.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the days begin to pass and you grew comfortable with your little friend.

sylus became your alarm clock, pecking your forehead with his beak exactly at six in the morning to wake you up on time for work.

talk about punctual, seriously, he must've been a businessman of some sort in his past life.

the would come breakfast, the crow perched on your shoulder as you whipped up something quick. your hand coming up occasionally to let him nibble on while you ate as well; shimmying around your house to prepare to leave for the rest of the day.

then you would come home, greeted by piki and the crow who ran to the door. you'd sit on the couch, petting sylus as you talked to him about your day.

you'd bathe him, being careful to wash his delicate feathers before drying him. surprisingly, the bird had good taste in food.

also, he was so well-behaved.

can you believe the crow is potty trained?! of course, his body is too light to press onto the flush button; so you'd be surprised to see the two small pebbles of poop in the toilet bowl. the crow not meeting your eyes as you flushed for him.

although piki wasn't the type to feel threatened by other animals, she was envious of how much your attention went towards the bird. so, one night, you heard loud cawing in the middle of the night.

you looked down from your bed and saw an alarmed sylus panicking, eyes terrified before you noticed piki by the door; hissing.

"oh my...sylus? did piki scare you? there, there, it's okay. i gotchu." you picked him up before placing him on your chest, petting him to calm down his trembling body.

"you can sleep with me tonight." you gently placed him on your pillow, watching the crow settle in with a small dent from his weight. you reached for the covers before going to bed with him sleeping beside you. seeking warmth and comfort, sylus scoot closer to you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck; making you smile as you placed your palm behind him to assure him he was safe.

over the course of the days, you've grown a huge soft spot for the crow. nonetheless, he became fond of you too.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you dropped something under your bed?

sylus is already running under the crack to get it for you.

scared of a little bug on your wall?

don't mind if he indulges in a little sweet treat after dinner.

need someone to fetch you something from a different room?

just say the word and your wish is his command.

so naturally, it would be hard to say goodbye.

you unwrapped the bandages from his wings, seeing him flap it with ease now.

"all better." you chuckled, hearing him caw before he experimentally took flight around your house. sylus was elated, feeling like someone just freed him from a cage. but, he ended his flight, finding his spot on your shoulder.

"well, lets get you back out there. i can't keep you glued to me forever no matter how much i love you." a sad smile was plasted on your face, walking to the door as you unlocked it, stepping out side.

you placed your hand out, watching sylus fly onto your palms; looking up at you as he tilted his head to the side. your eyes welled with tears, feeling a rush of emotion as you really did grow attached to the bird.

"you're always welcomed to come back to me any time, sylus. i'll miss you." a stray tear escaped your eyes, as you brought the crow close to your cheek, hugging him.

sylus rubbed his head on your cheek, trying to engrave your scent onto his feathers.

a small caw left his beak before he took off.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

within the next few days, you'd notice how a small rock of some sort would be left on your front door. you'd then hear the familiar cawing of a familiar crow, catching him fly away in the distance; too shy to greet you.

but, his gestures wouldn't go unnoticed.

of course, sylus wasn't always a well-behaved crow; he could be rather naughty.

you still remember how you planted some flower in your garden, only to come back home later that day to see them destroyed. you saw the soil with some kitty paw prints and the prints of a certain bird.

so you nagged both at piki and sylus.

the next day when you came home from work, you saw the crow waiting in front of your door step, a small flower dangling on his beak.

sylus noticed you and immediately flapped his wings as he saw you bend down. he dropped the flower in front of you, looking up to see your reaction.

of course, your heart melted at the sight and action, giggling at the silly crow before poking his beak.

"you really are a bad boy." you smiled at him before petting his feathers.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you were sat on your couch, crocheting a small sweater that you had in mind for a certain little birdie. until you heard a bunch of cackling and cluttering sounds coming from outside followed by strangled cawing noises.

you quickly dropped all your things and bolted out the door, investigating the ruckus.

your eyes widened as you saw three teenage boys holding the familiar crow hostage. one of them tightly gripped sylus while the other threw rock at the bird; as if it was some kind of target.

"the fuck are you kids doing?!" you yelled, running towards them. the boys looke at you, a sinister grin painted on their faces.

"this little shit kept raiding my mom's flower garden, it's time for some payback." one of them snarked, making your stomach pool with guilt.

the pretty flowers you've been noticing on your doorsteps were left behind by sylus and you knew he stole from their garden to gift you those flowers.

"fuck your mom's flower garden, give me my damn crow." you demanded with a grave tone, eyes glaring darkly at the boys.

they gulped in fear, watching you reach for your rake in a threatening manner; quickly dropping the bird before running away.

you threw the rake to the side, rushing over to sylus as you bent down to scoop him in your arms.

"oh, you poor baby. i'm so sorry, god, it's all my fault." you held him closely to your hammering chest, heading inside your house to patch him up.

his cries were painful as you bandaged his wounds, drops of blood staining your fingers and desk. your eyes watered at the sight, lips quivering as you tried your best to offer him some words of comfort.

"it's okay, honey, i'm almost done." you whispered, placing the last bandage on.

later that night, you set him on your pillow, stroking his feathers as you hummed a small song. you watch the crow relax under your touch, slowly closing its eyes before falling asleep.

"sweet dreams, sylus." you mumbled quietly, leaning down to press a small kiss on his beak before laying besides him to sleep, your palm gently resting on his body.

the following morning, you stirred in your sleep as you felt a huge lump next to you. a confused groan left your throat, curling your fingers as you swear you could feel warm skin under your finger tips.

you opened your eyes, before letting out a blood-curdling scream at the sight. you scooted backwards until you tumbled off your bed, your scream and the loud thud of your body woke up the man sleeping beside you.

he jolted awake, sitting up as his eyes opened; bright ruby orbs staring wide at you, silver hair tousled and he was shirtless.

"w-who are you!?" you stammered, heart racing as you were confused and a little scared.

"looks like that potion wore off." his voice was deep, a husky chuckle rumbling in his chest as he examined his hands.

"the hell are you doing in my house?!" you asked again, voice more firm as you demanded answers. the man simply looked down at you, lips curling into a smirk.

"you were the one who brought me in, sweetie." he replied casually, a playful glint present in his eyes.

"don't be ridiculous, i have never met you in my life! and- oh my god, sylus... where's sylus?! he was sleeping next to me, you probably squished him to death! my poor baby!" you cried out, standing up to frantically look for the potentially dead crow.

the man watched you in amusement, rolling his eyes before sighing.

"i did not squish him because i am him." he calmly spoke, making you glare at him.

"first you kill my crow and now you tell me this bullshit? just shut up and leave my house before i call the cops, dude." you snapped, making the silver haired man face palm himself.

"for fucks sake, y/n, i'm sylus. i was that stupid crow that your damn cat found that night 'cause i broke my wings. you took me in yesterday 'cause of those stupid teenage fools capturing me." he truthfully recited, making you stop in your tracks.

"b-but... how is that possible? you're human." you were confused and astonished at the same time.

"yes, my... trustworthy henchmen recommended me a potion that would allow me to shift into the form of a crow because i'm currently a criminal on the run and needed to gather some intel. i had a mechanical crow, but it broke and making one would take too long; so i took it upon my own hands. unfortunately, those idiot didn't tell me how long the effects would last. the first time i happened to injure my wings from flight... i crashed into the tree outside your house." he confessed, making you snort a laugh.

"that's funny." you bit your bottom lip to stop the giggle that itched to come out of your throat.

"yeah, yeah, laugh all you want." sylus sighed, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

he was completely naked under the sheets, so you offered him to wear your robe. it wasn't much coverage, insanely tight around his more larger and muscular figure; and fit like the length of a mini dress because he was tall.

now you both were at the table, eating some cereal because you felt too lazy to prepare breakfast.

"thank you for taking care of me while i was a crow. not many humans have such compassion for animals like you do." sylus suddenly blurted out, making you stop mid-chew as you looked up at him.

you took note of how handsome he was. his facial features struck out and were sharp; yet his garnet eyes were beady and resembled a crow.

"you're welcome." you smiled.

⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the following few days, you'd receive gift bags on your front door from various luxury brands.

the items ranged from purses, belts, jewelry and at some point even a gun!

you knew that this kind of behavior, that similarly resembled a certain crow's could only mean that it was none other than sylus who was behind this.

one day, you caught him in the act, standing behind the silver haired man with crossed arms over your chest. he was dressed in a black leather jacket, leather pants and black boots; a motorbike parked at your gates. sylus turned around with a smirk, sensing your presence.

"it's not polite to sneak up on me like that, sweetie." sylus chuckled, towering over your smalled frame.

"uh-huh, and it's not polite to leave such expensive gifts and fleeting without any explanation." you retorted.

"i'm simply paying my debt to you." he defended, making you huff in annoyance.

"you are not indebted to me, it was really no big deal. besides, these things are too expensive!" you grumbled, making him wave his hand in a dismissive manner.

"i can afford it and more. this is my way of thanking you, so just accept them, sweetie." his lips twitched into a smile, making your heart stutter.

"fine. but at least stop disappearing before i could even thank you." a grumbled left your lips, making him chuckle.

"you make my heart feel nervous, i can't help it. but, i'll make it up to you. how about i take you on a joyride tomorrow?" he suggested, pointing at his vehicle, making you chuckle.

you walked closer to him, tiptoeing before wrapping your arms around his neck.

"where you wanna take me?" you asked teasingly, pressing yourself further onto him. sylus's breath hitched at the sudden proximity, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"guess." he breathed out, rubbing the small of your back.

"i get off at five in the afternoon tomorrow." you replied, before pressing a small peck on his lips, making his brain short circuit. he finally came back to his senses, smiling before leaning down to press a more long-lasting kiss on your lips.

"perfect, tomorrow it is, sweetie."

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