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s0dium · 11 months ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Synopsis: Ever wondered what JJK men with a heavy breeding kink would be like? Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Monsterform!Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Choso, Nanami Kento Warnings: Breeding, rough sex, praise, cum kink, Monsterform!Sukuna, masturbation, PUSSY DRUNK, fingering, nipple play, edging begging, mentions of pregnancy, mating press, overstimulation, marathon sex, degrading, cum kink, subspace, mirror sex, cowgirl

Toji Fushiguro

It's almost a little game of his, how many times can he cum in you.

Loathes condoms. Toji hates the plastic flimsy things, but after Megumi he would probably be more cautious, his pull out game becomes stronger

The type to keep you plugged up for a bit with his dick after he cums

If any slips out he will use his thumb to slip it back it

Probably doesn't even ask. Every time you fuck him he is gonna cum into you. Such a slut, you deserve it.

“You're doing such a good job baby, taking this like a champ,” Toji moans between grunts, his eyes closed, tips of his ears bright red from the pleasure, and his black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. How long has Toji been dreaming about this exact moment? How many times did he fuck his fist to the image of how your pretty face looks right now? More importantly, he realizes, this is it, this is when he can fulfill his biggest fantasy that's been gnawing at his brain like a parasite; he can finally pump his cum into your sweet belly like he has fantasized about.

“Ngh~ too f-fast~” Tears trickled down your face and yet your hips were needly bucking up to take his dick like there was some how more of him to take. What a glutton for punishment you were, but soon that burning pain became something just as good, even better actually, delicious pleasure. You started to arch you back off the bed like a bow and you lock your legs around his back, holding yourself in place so he could fuck you like an animal. The sound of your hips meeting was so loud, that you were sure if any of your neighbors walked by would know what you were doing. Like you cared.

It's as if a primal need has taken hold of Toji, your pleas for him to slow down only go in and out of his ears. With every snap of his hips a creamy ring of arousal forms at his base from your arousal and his precrum. Each movement creates intense friction that heightens the pleasure and the collision of your bodies sends waves of ecstasy through you, making it impossible to hold back your moans. Each motion brings a profound sense of connection and exhilaration, intertwining you closer to the brink of overwhelming joy. The friction of Toji's dick rubbing your walls is enough to leave you breathless and eagerly anticipating each subsequent moment.

"G-gonna cum baby, your gonna take it." He is practically tumbling over his words now from the vice grip your pussy has on his cock. Thank god you are also nearing your peak because you don't know how much more your body can take, you need to use your legs tomorrow.

"Fuck fuck FUCK!" With a loud moan, Toji buries himself deep into your creamy pussy, relishing in the warm feeling, before pumping a heavy load of warm cum into your womb. His cum doesn't stop until your belly was swollen with the hot liquid and your toes curled from the pleasure. The heat spreads through your body, driving you to the edge of pleasure. The overwhelming sensation finally takes over, pushing you into a state of pure ecstasy.

As your pussy convulses, Toji doesn't leave the warmth of your cunt for a second, keeping you plugged and stuffed with his cum.

"Fell so good princess, ya feel like heaven."

Gojo Satoru

You question whether this is all a dream. It's utterly euphoric, enveloped by every aspect of Gojo—his heady scent, the warmth of his skin, and his mesmerizing voice echoing in your ears. It's a sensory overload that feels almost too intense to be real.

“Oh, where did you float off too, princess?” he coos, watching the glossy, faraway look take over your eyes. Despite this, Gojo keeps up his brutal pace his breathing becoming jagged and irregular. There’s no warning when he comes.

"Love you," you babble, "Love you so much please c-cum in me." Your words are strung out on your lips from how fucking good you feel. As you succumb to each of his forceful, fast movements movements, waves of intense pleasure cascade through you.

“Shit” Gojo spoke through a gritted smile as he blew his load. Almost as if he was unfazed by his ejaculation, Gojo keeps sliding his member in and out, his milky semen leaking out as he continues to push into you relentlessly, not loosing a second of speed.

The sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room the sloshing of cum trapped inside you, his thrusts are not only slicker and frictionless with the help of his hot cum,

“M-mhm..” your humming earns a guttural groan from the male above you, “m’ Please don't stop Satoru please don't stop” you cry, and how could he not? Of course, he was going to fuck his second load into you especially when you asked so nicely.

Geto suguru

Above all else, Geto Suguru is a family man

There is nothing more he wants than to see your belly round with his kid, to watch your breasts swell with milk

“Fuck princess you feel so fucking good.” Geto’s words come out accompanied with a chuckle, basking in the way your walls hug his dick.

Straddling Geto Suguru, you feel the solid strength of his arms as he effortlessly lifts you up and down his dick. Each controlled movement is a testament to his power, his hands firm and guiding. Your body has gone slack at this point, the muscles in your legs too tired from its constant tremblings and tightening due to how deliciously he fucked you. Good? Try Euphoric. You were in heaven from the way the tip of his fat dick collided with your gspot. He uses you like a sex toy, shaping your walls with his cock.

Long stray black strands of hair fall from his loose bun as he leans over to whisper into your ear. “Want me to fill you up don't you? Watch you grow round our child—” One of his thumbs rolls over your hardened nubs as he gropes at your chest, causing you to keen at the added stimulation, "These will fill with sweet sweet milk, we’ll make sure there’s enough to share with me. Isn’t that what you want?” Geto’s balls slap against your ass every time you bottom out on his dick.

“Oh fuh-“ His voice comes out breathless. You can feel each harsh contraction of his balls while he creams inside your pussy, such a tight fit that a ring of it seeps out at the base of where he’s connected to you.

Choso

Choso cant count the number of times he’s touched himself to the thought of filling you up with cum over and over again, till glistening tears streamed down your pretty face and you were meekly begging him to stop.

He doesn't know why but to Choso, its almost instinct to breed you up, and how could he resist? From the way your hips swayed to your honey-coated whines that escaped your mouth when he aggressively kissed you, you were practically asking for it.

“Cho~!” you coo, reaching up and planting messy kisses along his chin. Heavy, hot pants escaped both of your mouths as your hips struggled to meet his brutal pace, to no avail.

Quite frankly Choso didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, of course, he knew you’d feel good, but not this good. Fuck, his fleshlight felt like sandpaper compared to the way your gummy walls sucked and spasmed around him.

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me please don't sto-” You cut yourself off with as squeal when you felt Choso pull out for a quick second before slamming back into you with a grunt; the nearly inhumane girth of his cock making you dizzy at the surprise entrance.

“Mm’feel so good baby, m’so good y/n” Choso whines were muffled due to how his face was buried in the crook of your neck, your scent only serving to bring him closer and closer to the edge. “m’ gonna cum- princess m’gonna cum inside.” he cuts of with a groan of his own, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into your walls.

Nanami Kento

See the thing is, Nanami didn't even know he had a breeding kink

It wasn't until he came in you for the first time, it wasn't until he watched it spill out and cover your pussy in a creamy white glaze that he became addicted.

From that point on, Nanami loathed condoms.

The side of your mouth was a mess of dripping drool. Legs spread apart by the crooks of his elbows, you let our a strangled whine as you watched Nanami hammer himself into you like a starved man.

“Nanami!” you sob, reaching up to bury your face in his neck, “Please cum in me please!”

“F-fuck y/n, what did you just say?” He groans, brows furrowed and arm muscles straining as he continues to hold your hips in a death grip and fuck you. You met his stare, breathing heavily with sweat dotting your brow.

“I-I, want you to cum in me… please.” Brown eyes widen at your words, causing a warm rush of pleasure to spread through your tummy and tighten the coil.

“Oh, you filthy little fuck.” His movements began with renewed vigor, hips snapping against you almost painfully as you moaned without restraint. You felt full; completely stuffed by Nanami as he stretched your hole with every thrust.

Sukuna Ryomen

One of the many kinks the curse has

Nothing, and he means nothing is more satisfying than pressing down on your tummy and watching the load of cum spill out from you.

And whats the harm if you get knocked up while he’s at it? The king of all curses needs an heir anyways.

A hum of satisfaction escaped as he watched your used battered body twitch in the reflection of the mirror every time Sukuna teasingly rubbed your clit in half circles with his thumb.

“Beautiful girl, such a natural submissive”.

Two of the curse's other muscular hands played with your nipples, twisting and running over them with his index finger and thumb, flicking over them like one would turning on and off a light switch. How long have you been sitting in his dick, letting fingers work your clit and nipples to the very brink of a mind splitting orgasm, only for the high to be snatched away from you?

“Look at you” Sukuna hummed, his giving a teasing thrust right into your cervix making you gasp for air. You needed more movement, you needed friction; sitting on his dick spread in front of a mirror wasn't enough. “So needy, so fucking greedy for everything that I’m giving you.”

“I want m-more!” you sob, your body hyper-aware of how fast his fingers moved over your clit.

“Don't worry little thing, I’ll fill you up soon.”

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quantummuse · 11 months ago

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#body positive #body image #social media #teen stuff #stigma #ads #eating disoder trigger warning #tw eating issues #disordered eating mention #disordered eating cw #diet culture #corporate greed

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sugoroo · 8 months ago

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ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players — he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the last nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS.

pervy electrician!toji -> NEXT.

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urmum-lovesme · 2 months ago

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Bunny (P13)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: Sorry for the cliff hanger guys- but here's the next bit and besides its not like I would leave it on a cliff hanger again- or would I..... ? heh

warnings: angst angst angst, violent behaviour, emotional distress, mentions of past trauma, alcohol, sad!rafe and sad!bunny, luke (he deserves a warning)

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13) (P14)

The house was quiet and peaceful in a way that felt rare lately. Steam still curled faintly from the cracked bathroom door as Y/N padded barefoot through the hallway, the cotton hem of her oversized t-shirt brushing the tops of her thighs. It clung slightly to the damp warmth of her skin, fresh from the shower, the scent of vanilla soap still lingering on her. The shirt, one of her oldest and most worn-in, read 'There’s no place like the OBX!' in faded, peeling letters. The image of a cartoon sunset beneath the text was barely visible now, rubbed off from years of wear, but it was still her comfort shirt.

The evening had been calm. A rare exhale. She knew it was the right choice, not going to the party, instead choosing to stay at home. No JJ, no Rafe, no tension. Just her alone in the stillness of the house. She yawned softly as she made her way into the kitchen, the tiles cool under her feet. Her hand reached for the cabinet, grabbing a glass, then filled it halfway from the tap, the sound of water the only thing cutting through the silence.

Buzz. Buzz.

Her phone, face-down on the counter buzzed again. She frowned a little, setting the glass down with a small clink and reaching for it. When she turned it over, the lock screen was full, message after message.

Rafe

Rafe : Y/N m s sorry

Rafe : It was a mistake I didn mean iit

Rafe : Im sosorry forgive me

Rafe : Please it was ana ccident

Rafe : drunk an angry it just slipedout

She just stood there, blinking, bare feet rooted to the floor. What? Her thumb hovered over the screen as she scrolled back through the weird messages littering her screen, heart creeping higher into her throat. He hadn’t replied to her at all yesterday left her on read after she asked him the question which had been hanging over both of them for a while now. He'd ignored every message she sent and now this? What the hell was he talking about, it made no sense. Her brows knit as she stared at the screen, glass forgotten on the counter as she held the phone in two hands her thumbs typing out; What are you talk-

BANG

The sound of the front door slamming open ricocheted through the house like a shotgun blast. The walls trembled and the floor vibrated slightly beneath her bare feet. Her whole body jolted—glass on the counter rattling dangerously. Her blood ran cold. She'd not seen her dad in a few days and the possibility of his presence was in her mind, whispered in fear, a lifetime of instinct kicking in. But before panic could really settle, the door slammed shut again, the echo bouncing off every wall like a threat. She turned sharply, heart hammering in her chest and then there he was-

JJ?

Standing in the doorway, chest heaving, shoulders tense and strung tight like he could burst. His face was a mess- nose bloodied, dried and smeared to one side, his lip split, a red flush blooming across his cheek. His blond hair was sticking up in every direction under his crooked cap, disheveled like he’d just been through a war. His clothes hung raggedly on his body almost as though his t-shirt had been stretched out, and he was breathing heavy like he ran the whole way here. His eyes locked onto hers furious, hurt.

Betrayed

He stood there, breath ragged in his chest, eyes locked on her like he didn’t recognise the girl in front of him. Y/N stared back at him, frozen for a moment in the quiet hum of the kitchen. Her phone, still glowing with Rafe’s frantic texts, slipped from her fingers and landed back onto the counter with a soft thud. The sound felt loud in the silence. This was JJ, her kid brother who used to cry when he scraped his knees and she'd bandage them up pressing soft kisses over the bandaids. The boy she taught how to sneak out of the house quietly, her best friend since they were in diapers. Now he looked like someone she didn’t know- bloodied, breathless, and storm-eyed. She took a step around the kitchen island, slow and cautious, like she was approaching a wounded animal. She asked gently, her voice threading with worry, hand outstretched, ready to go to him,

“Are you okay- ”

“-were you pregnant?”

But JJ’s voice sliced through the air before she could take another step and she stopped dead in her tracks. Silence crashed between them. Her hand, still halfway out, dropped to her side like a weight and her stomach churned at the words passing his lips.

“What?”

Her voice was almost inaudible. Caught between panic and confusion, her breath hitched. JJ’s face twisted, all disbelief and frustration, and he took a harsh step forward, his voice louder now.

"Did you fucking get pregnant?"

Y/N blinked, wide-eyed, her lips parting like the words might come—but nothing did. Her body language screamed shock, but inside she was cracking open. Splitting down the middle. Her heart was racing now, mouth suddenly dry. “N-no,” she stammered, voice too quick and certainly too fragile.

“What-? No!”

But JJ wasn’t buying it. He whipped his cap off his head as he raked a hand through his hair, exhaling hard as he turned in a quick, agitated circle, the movement jerky with disbelief. His fingers clenched in his hair before he let them drop and he barked out—

“Don’t LIE to me!”

The words exploded out of JJ like a gunshot, and with it, his hand came down hard crack against the edge of the kitchen table. The slap of skin on wood echoed through the house like a warning sound. Y/N jumped, her breath catching violently in her chest. Her whole body flinched, jerking backward instinctively. Eyes wide, pupils blown and her shoulders curled in slightly, like she'd just taken a hit without being touched. Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears it almost drowned everything else out. She felt cold suddenly, like the warmth of her post-shower calm had been ripped from her body in an instant. The oversized shirt clung to her damp skin, sticking uncomfortably as her breathing turned sharp and uneven “Pregnant?” she echoed, voice airy and brittle. It sounded wrong in the space between them. Like the word didn’t belong to her. Like she was trying to believe she didn’t understand- trying to sell a lie even she couldn’t swallow.

“Who told you this?”

And JJ- he looked like he could rip the whole room apart with his bare hands. She already knew the answer he was going to give her. But she needed to hear it. Needed to pray and cling onto the hope for some other name, any name not—

“Rafe Cameron”

JJ said, voice full of venom. His jaw was clenched so tight it trembled, eyes burning into hers. And then she froze, like a statue carved from ice. Her chest stilled and her hands hung at her sides. There wasn’t a flicker of movement. Rafe? She couldn’t even blink, couldn’t breathe at the sound his name.

He promised

Her fingers curled slightly in toward her palms and she felt like someone had just reached into her chest and squeezed.JJ saw it happen- the way her entire body stiffened, how her lips parted but no sound came. The way her eyes went glassy for just a second.He saw it all and it broke something within him. His voice cracked, a bitter sound ripping from his throat, full of raw betrayal and heartbreak as he whispered,

“Oh my fucking god-”

“-no! No I didn’t get pregnant”

Y/N gasped out, voice cracking like thin glass. She shook her head rapidly, hands lifting uselessly in the air like she could physically push the truth away. But her voice was too high, too shaky. Her eyes were darting everywhere but his, and JJ saw right through her.

“I didn’t—JJ. I-"

“-why are you LYING to me!”

He shouted cutting her off, his voice thundering off the walls as his hands flew into the air in exasperation, then slammed back down at his sides. His eyes were wild, glassy with a cocktail of rage and betrayal.

“Why the are you lying to me?!”

“Jay, please just—”

She rushed, taking a few tentative steps toward him, palms out like she could soothe him with touch alone. Her voice wavered, desperate and pleading. But JJ backed up- away from her. “You didn’t even tell me,” he said bitterly, as if the words physically hurt to say. He let out a strangled scoff, pacing now, stumbling back a step.

“And I’m your brother. I’m your fucking brother Y/N.”

Her eyes welled. Her lips trembled because it was happening. Exactly what she’d feared- her worst nightmare made real in their own kitchen, beneath the harsh light, peeling tiles and abandoned glass of water. “Please,” she whispered again, voice breaking down completely now.

“JJ please—”

But he was already unraveling- crashing out. He paced along the kitchen, dragging a hand down his face, his cap was long abandoned on the kitchen island as he dug his fingers into his hair and tugging like he needed to physically hold himself together. His mouth was hidden behind his hand now, muffling a harsh, trembling breath. He was doing everything he could not to lose it. But then, his hand lashed out and swept everything off the corner of the kitchen island. Bills, letters, receipts, all of it went crashing to the floor in a loud flurry of paper and crumpled envelopes.

“You went to Rafe?”

He yelled, voice splintered and feral as he rounded on her again, pointing now— accusingly. His entire face contorted with disbelief, “You went to Rafe Cameron for help?! The same piece of shit who’s tormented us for years- who’s ruined our lives- what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

His finger stabbed the air in her direction, jaw clenched so tight his teeth could’ve cracked. His breathing was loud, heavy. He looked like he was barely staying inside his own skin and Y/N snapped suddenly,

“Don’t raise your voice at me”

She bit out, her voice cutting sharp and fast, almost instinctive. Her chest was heaving now, flushed with fury and panic. Her hands were curled into fists at her sides as her eyes locked with his, finally locked with his. “You have no fucking idea what I’ve been going through JJ. None of it,” she seethed, her voice shaking just beneath the surface, laced with pain that was months in the making.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been trying to make a decision I never asked for in the first place!”

And just like that, the kitchen went still. The broken silence crackled in the air between them like electricity after a lightning strike- both of them breathing hard, standing in the wreckage of papers, secrets, and everything they haven't said to each other in the past months. JJ’s voice cracked on the question,

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It wasn’t loud anymore. It wasn’t angry. It just… broke. Like something inside him had split clean down the middle. His arms, once tensed at his sides, dropped uselessly as his shoulders sagged. Like all the fight had drained out of him in one breath. Y/N stood stiff on the other the island opposite him, the space between them feeling wider than the whole room. Her breath hitched as her eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders curling inward like she was bracing for impact.

“JJ, I don’t know, I just—”

“Do you not trust me?”

He asked, suddenly, voice low but guarded. She looked up fast, her eyes wide, lashes still wet. Her lips parted like she was about to speak but forgot how. Like she’d been caught somewhere between guilt and fear. She said, voice tight, chest rising with a shaky inhale,

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Yes. Yes, it is what this is about—”

“I DO trust you!”

She burst out, loud and raw, like she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her hands shot out as if reaching for something she couldn’t quite grasp. She was breathing fast now, visibly trembling, like the admission had cost her something. JJ stepped forward a half-step, hands curling into frustrated fists at his sides. His jaw clenched hard, eyes narrowed, flickering with that familiar mix of hurt and fury.

“Well you don’t act like it”

He said, bitter, almost defeated. He threw his hands up like he was done trying to understand. “Jesus…” he breathed, taking two slow steps back. Y/N rubbed her face roughly, wiping away a tear with the heel of her palm, her fingers shaky. Her mouth opened- then shut again, her brows drawing together in a helpless knot. JJ let out a breath so heavy it sounded like it hurt. Then his hand dragged through his hair, gripping the back of his neck like he needed to ground himself. He looked her dead in the eye,

“Was it his?”

The question struck her like a slap. She went completely still. “...What?” she whispered, barely audible. The word trembled in her throat, her head jerking slightly like she couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. JJ’s eyes burned, his mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a sneer.

“Was it his, Y/N? Was it Rafe’s?”

Her mouth opened again, but no sound came out. Her legs carried her one step back, like the sheer weight of the question shoved her there. Her arms folded across her chest without her realising it, protective. Defensive.

“How can you even ask me that—”

“What else do you want me to think, huh?” JJ’s voice climbed again, every word sharper than the last, “You won’t fucking tell me anything! You kept this whole thing a secret from me like I’m just some... some nobody—”

“JJ—”

“Was it his?”

He snapped again, louder, like saying it might finally make the pain in his chest make sense. His chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy and erratic. He looked like he was burning up from the inside.

“Was it his, and that’s why you ran to him, why you told him before you told me?”

“Stop-stop it— how dare you even think that—”

“Well you’re sure as hell not giving me a lot of reasons not to!”

The shout ripped from him like a gut punch. He slammed the heel of his palm down on the counter once more as the last word left his mouth, she flinched hard at the sound, instinctively taking a step back like it could steady her pulse.

BANG

The front door slammed against the wall with a hard thud, rattling the frame in its hinges as Luke stumbled inside, the scent of cheap bourbon clinging to him like a second skin. Both their heads whipped toward the entrance to the house, eyes wide. The air in the kitchen turned thick with silence, frozen with tension as JJ's chest heaved and Y/N didn’t move. He blinked blearily at the two of them from the hallway, swaying just slightly, his jaw working unevenly as he tried to focus.

“What’s all this fuckin’ yelling?”

His voice was slurred, low and accusatory, slicing through the thick silence like a rusted blade. Y/N’s body stiffened immediately. She stood there, frozen for half a second, then straightened up like someone had yanked her upright by a string. “Nothing,” she said quickly, her jaw clenched so tight it ached. JJ didn’t say a word. His arms were rigid at his sides, chest still heaving, that same fury boiling behind his eyes.

“Nothing is going on”

Y/N repeated, sharper this time. She wasn’t even fully looking at Luke anymore- her gaze was fixed on JJ, like her words were meant for him just as much, like she was pleading with him. Her voice dropped slightly, nearly trembling:

“Right, JJ? Nothing’s happening here.”

There was a long pause. JJ looked at her- really looked at her- and her eyes silently begged, he knew exactly what she was saying in her mind. Don’t say it- don’t let him find out. JJ’s nostrils flared, his whole body rigid, but his face hardened into stone. Then, slowly, almost in disbelief, he shook his head. His hand dragged over his mouth once more as he took a step back.

He didn’t say a single word.

He just turned, snatching his cap of the kitchen counter and walked toward the door and left- slamming it shut behind him with a bang that made the windows shudder in their frames. Y/N flinched. Her chest caved as she dropped down into one of the wooden kitchen chairs like all the strength had just drained out of her. Her elbows hit the edge of the table, head falling into her hands, shoulders hunched. Behind her, Luke mumbled something unintelligible and stumbled down the hallway. The second he was gone, the dam broke, silent tears dripped through her fingers, landing in dark, wet splotches on the old wooden table beneath her.

bzzz bzzz bzzz

Her phone vibrated on the counter, loud in the quiet house. She turned around slowly, reaching for it her hand trembling as the screen lit up.

Rafe

She stared at it, heartbeat thudding in her throat. Her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment and then a soft, broken sound left her lips. She placed the phone face down on the table, letting it buzz until the sound faded.

Until the silence was all that was left in the four walls of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft clatter of cutlery was the only sound in the back of the restaurant. Y/N stood at the long metal counter, back hunched slightly as she polished a fork with slow, repetitive movements. Her shoulders were pulled up tight- and the faded name tag on her polo was barely clinging on by its safety pin. The white cloth in her hand dragged in steady circles, silver catching the dim light overhead. By the doorway, Sofia leaned one shoulder against the frame. She didn’t say anything at first- just watched her best friend, lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line. Y/N looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. There were shadows under her eyes and a drained stillness in her face. Sofia quietly stepped into the room, picked up another cloth from the drawer, and reached for a fork. Y/N didn’t look up, didn’t say anything, just kept working, kept silent like she had for the past few days. Sofia offered gently,

“Hey”

Y/N murmured back, voice soft but distant, her eyes locked on the fork in her hand like it was the only thing tethering her. Sofia hesitated, cloth in one hand fork in the other, debating how to say what she needed to. Her fingers tightened slightly on the metal.

“I um heard what happened to JJ”

Y/N’s hand paused, just for a second. Just long enough for the silence to crack a little but then she kept polishing.

“Mmhmm”

It was a quiet hum, the kind that meant I heard you, but please don’t ask me to talk about it. Sofia exhaled slowly. She put her fork down, the soft clink echoing in the small room. “Y/N… I haven't seen you for days,” she said, voice quieter now.

“Please talk to me.”

The cloth slipped from Y/N’s fingers. She gently set the fork down beside it, like even letting go of that was too much. Her hand lifted, trembling as she brushed it across her brow- trying to collect herself, to stay composed.

“I don’t know what to do Sof...”

She said, voice breaking mid-sentence. The words hit the air like a wound. Her eyes welled up instantly, lashes soaked before she could even blink. Sofia was already there, wrapping her arms around her in a heartbeat, tugging her in close. Y/N’s chin dropped to her shoulder, her breath hitching in her chest as she pressed her face against Sofia’s polo shirt.

“It’s okay,” Sofia whispered, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

But it wasn’t okay.

It wasn’t okay.

Because Y/N felt like she was standing at the centre of a storm, everything torn apart. JJ wouldn’t even look at her. Wouldn’t speak to her. Her baby brother- her heart- had walked out and she hasn't seen him since then. And Rafe? Rafe had broken the one promise he swore to keep. He’d hurt her in a way she didn’t know how to come back from.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Sofia’s arms stayed tight around her for a long moment, like she could shield her from the weight of it all- from the ache, from the choices, from the fear. Then, gently, she pulled back and brushed a tear from Y/N’s cheek with the bottom of her polo which she'd tugged up. She said softly, tugging at her friend’s hand,

“Come here”

Y/N let herself be led, her limbs sluggish and almost reluctant. Sofia guided her to a small wooden stool tucked beneath one of the prep counters in the back room. She sat her down with careful hands, like setting a glass sculpture onto stone. Then she crouched in front of her, folding herself down so they were eye to eye. Her expression was open, gentle, patient. Sofia asked her voice low and kind,

“Can you tell me what’s going on... ?”

Y/N’s teeth sank into her bottom lip. Her eyes dropped to her lap where her hands were clenched into fists on top of her apron. For a moment, the silence between them stretched. Then Y/N gave a slow, exhaled surrender- and she told her.

Everything

She told Sofia about the second job — how she’d been dancing at the strip club for months just to make ends meet. How the money had been good, but the shame had clung to her skin like an old perfume. She told her about Rafe, about the way he’d taunted her, messed with her head, haunted her space like a ghost that never left her alone. And then how that twisted thing between them had shifted after what happened to her in the parking lot. About the parking lot. How she’d gotten pregnant, how she hadn’t meant to involve him but had nowhere else to go. And how, when it counted, Rafe had helped her and it had turned into more. Secret late nights, quiet promises in dark corners, a fragile, forbidden thing which they nurtured in silence. And as a result it had all blown up. JJ had found out, the one person she'd always protected now looked at her like she was someone he didn’t recognise. But even through the storm the rift between her and JJ had brought, all she could think about was Rafe.

Rafe, who said he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Rafe, who would hold her in his car on late nights and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

Rafe, who promised.

And he broke it.

Sofia didn’t interrupt once. She stayed crouched there, one arm resting on her bent knee, nodding gently as each piece fell from Y/N like shattered glass. Her face remained steady and calm, but her eyes were soft with understanding. With heartbreak for her friend. When the story was done, Y/N swallowed thickly and glanced up at her with wet eyes.

“Please don’t judge me”

She whispered, barely audible. Sofia’s reaction was immediate — a sharp shake of the head. She said, gently but firmly.

“Why would I judge you?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Y/N’s voice cracked. She looked away again, blinking hard. Sofia leaned in a little closer, her brows furrowing with affection.

“Why didn’t you say something, mi corazón?”

“I was just… embarrassed.”

Y/N’s lips wobbled as she gave the smallest shrug and whispered. Without a word, Sofia reached out and laid a steadying hand on Y/N’s knee, grounding her. She spoke her voice laced with quiet conviction.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of”

Y/N’s throat tightened instantly. Her chin dipped, tears slipping down once again. But when Sofia leaned forward and wrapped her into another hug, she folded into it without hesitation- burying her face in her friend’s shoulder, arms clutching around her tightly like she might disappear. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” Sofia whispered against her hair.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

“I love you Sof”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. Her body sagged in relief at the promise — not that anything was fixed, but that she wasn’t alone. Sofia just hugged her tighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N threw back the swinging door to the main bar with her hip, a full tray of used glasses balanced effortlessly in her hand. The low hum of muffled chatter greeted her like a familiar blanket, warm and a little suffocating. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the bar's lights as she stepped back behind the counter, dumping the tray beside the industrial sink with a heavy exhale. She hadn’t realised how much she needed that talk with Sofia until now. Something about finally saying it out loud- all of it- had loosened the tightness in her chest. The weight of silence had been unbearable, and now, while the ache still lingered, she could breathe again. Just a little. But there wasn’t time to dwell in her thoughts anyways, not tonight.

The bar was packed, voices raised, chairs scraping against floorboards, orders being placed and the occasional whistle. She adjusted the apron which was tied snug around her waist, as a guy asked from the far end of the bar, adding on the name of his tab.

“Two shots of tequila, lime and salt on the side”

“Of course”

She replied without missing a beat, already grabbing the bottle and reaching for shot glasses. Her hands moved fast- pouring, shaking, stirring. She restocked bottles of liquor without thinking, cracked open a fresh case of beer, wiped condensation from the metal counter and replaced a handful of clean napkins. Someone ordered a mojito and she went to work muddling the mint, crushing ice with a practiced rhythm. It was muscle memory by now- she didn’t have to think, which was exactly what she needed.

No room for thoughts, no room for Rafe, or JJ, or anything else eating her alive from the inside out.

The more she moved, the more she disappeared into the chaos. Her skin gleamed under the bar lights, sweat beading along the back of her neck as she reached overhead to tuck fresh tumblers onto the glass shelf. She barely heard the quiet jazz music anymore, just the beat of urgency thudding in her chest.

“Another whiskey sour”

Someone asked and she reached for the shaker, wipe, pour, shake, serve, repeat, but then something made her glance up and her hand stilled on the bottle. Across the bar, nestled deep into the shadows of the corner lounge area, sat Rafe. Not drinking, not talking.

Just watching her.

He was slouched back in a leather chair like he owned that corner of the room, legs spread comfortably, one arm draped over the armrest. The light barely caught his face, but she didn’t need clarity to know the exact look he was wearing- that familiar unreadable expression, cold eyes fixed solely on her like she was something distant he couldn’t quite reach. Her jaw clenched tight.

The nerve

The audacity?

Y/N quickly looked away, her lips thinning as she focused on the drink in her hands, finishing the sour and passing it across the bar without a second glance. She moved faster now, snatching empty glasses off tables as she passed, ducking into the back cooler for a new bottle of gin, keeping her head down. But every time she looked up- every time- he was still there, still watching. Like a storm cloud on the edge of the horizon, just waiting to roll in, god it made her blood boil.

Her shoulders tensed as she scrubbed a sticky ring off the bar top with more force than necessary. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back, refused to let him drag her under again, not tonight. Not while she was trying to hold it together with thin threads and old tape. She poured a round of rum and cokes for a rowdy group at table four, barely registering the guy who tried to flirt with her as she served them. All she could feel was the burn of Rafe’s stare pressing into the side of her face like a brand. The bar area was still pulsing around her, dim lights flickering like fireflies in the low haze, glasses clinking, a muffled jazz beat vibrating through the floorboards but Y/N had started to move on autopilot. Hands quick and precise, wiping down the counters, collecting empty tumblers, taking orders and mixing drinks. She’d just handed off a margarita, salted rim, top-shelf tequila, extra lime, 'the usual', to a woman with long red nails and a tipsy grin when something in her peripheral made her pause.

She looked over and there he was.

Standing just to her left now, not lounging anymore, but leaning forward against the bar- both arms resting casually on the glossy wooden top, the sleeves of his shirt pushed back to his elbows. His expression wasn’t smug, wasn’t cocky like usual. There was no lazy smirk or self-satisfied gleam in his eye. He looked tired, and she could see a faint bruise on his cheekbone. His voice was quieter than normal when he spoke — missing that usual confident drawl.

“Can I get a whiskey on ice?”

Y/N didn’t respond. Not with words anyway, she turned, wordless, and reached for the bottle behind her. Her movements were mechanical and efficient. She pulled out a glass, dropped in the ice, and started pouring slow and steady, never once letting herself really look at him. But she couldn't help it and her eyes flickered up once. Just once. He was already watching her. His gaze was steady, fixed on her with a weight that made her skin prickle. Like he was searching for something in her face, something he couldn’t quite reach, something he knew he might not be allowed to see anymore. Still, she didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask why he was here. Didn’t ask what the hell he thought he was doing. Because truthfully? She didn’t know what she wanted to say to him. There was too much in her mind and it was too loud- much too messy.

Her hand moved on instinct, finishing the pour, and he slid the glass across the bar on a coaster her fingers brushing the condensation as she pushed it toward him. Rafe took it, fingers curling around the glass, but he didn’t drink. He just looked at her, lips pressing into a thin line like he was forcing himself not to say something he might regret. Finally, his voice broke the beat of the music again, soft but edged with something uncertain.

“…are you mad at me?”

Y/N didn’t blink, is he fucking dumb? She didn’t lift her eyes as she answered, her voice flat. Cold. Soaked in disappointment that ran deeper than fury.

“Mad doesn’t even cover it.”

And then she turned, already moving toward the next customer, leaving Rafe standing there, his untouched drink in hand. He didn’t leave, not after that first drink, not after her next round of orders rolled in. Rafe stayed perched on a stool by the bar, watching her every move.

All night.

Eventually he returned to the same leather chair tucked into the farthest corner of the lounge, a space covered just enough in shadow that most people wouldn’t notice him if they were looking. But Y/N did. Every time she turned around, every time she restocked the vodka, every time she handed someone a beer, she felt his eyes.

Waiting.

For what?—she wasn’t sure. A chance to speak to her? Forgiveness? Maybe just a single glance from her in his direction. She didn’t give him that- not once. Not even when her arms began to ache from shaking drinks. Not even when her lower back pinched from bending to stock crates under the bar. She kept moving, kept working, pushing through the ache in her chest and the hot buzz behind her eyes because looking at him, acknowledging him, might just undo her right there behind the bar.

He didn’t make it easy, he stayed there, that untouched whiskey glass still in front of him like he didn’t even have the stomach to drink it. His elbows rested on the armrests of the chair, posture not lazy like usual was but tense. Stiff. Even Sofia noticed. The first time she passed by his corner delivering a round of beers, she glanced his way—and didn’t hide the icy look she shot him. Her brows furrowed in sharp judgment, eyes narrowing as she walked by without breaking her stride. The second time, she muttered something under her breath in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like a curse. The third time, Rafe shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable now. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoided looking at her directly. His fingers tapped restlessly against the side of his glass, but he didn’t leave.

Y/N clocked it all from across the room.

How he didn’t even try to defend himself under Sofia’s glare. How he just sat there, letting himself stew in whatever guilt had driven him here in the first place. Despite every ounce of anger boiling in her chest, some part of her- a stupid, bruised part- still wondered why. Why he was there. Why he hadn’t left. Why he did what he did in the first place.

But she didn’t ask, she couldn't.

She just kept pretending she didn’t feel his stare burning a hole through her ribs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N shoved her apron deep into her bag, the fabric still damp from the shift. Her locker door clanged shut harder than necessary, echoing through the quiet staff room. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the worn bag closed. Sofia leaned against the frame of the doorway, arms crossed, watching her closely.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you to your car?” her voice soft, gentle, hesitant, "why don't you just come and stay with me for the night? You know my parents really won’t mi—”

“I’m fine”

Y/N cut her off with a half-hearted smile, already slinging her bag over her shoulder,

“Really- I'll be ok”

Sofia didn’t push. She just nodded, a quiet understanding behind her brown eyes, and reached out to give her friend’s arm a warm rub, reassuring and grounding.

“Text me when you get home”

She spoke out with a soft smile, and then turned returning back to serving, leaving Y/N alone with the dim hum of the locker room lights. Y/N let out a breath as the door swung shut behind her, then turned on her heel and started out, walking the familiar halls of the country club in silence. The floors echoed under her shoes, the once-buzzing energy now dulled down to a few scattered patrons still nursing their drinks at the bar. Her path was straight and certain; out the lobby, across the lot, into her car, and then home to her bedroom where she could finally fall apart all over again but that plan cracked the moment she heard his voice,

“I can’t stand not talking to you”

It stopped her mid-step. She turned, eyes narrowing as her gaze landed on him, standing just a few feet away near the archway that separated the main area from the corridor. His posture was rigid, jaw tight, eyes desperately locked on her like the sight of her physically hurt him.

“Cornering me at work Rafe?” Her voice was sharp, cutting.

“Seriously?”

“Please,” he said quickly, “it was a mistake”

Her laugh was dry and humourless as she took a step back, putting more space between them as she spoke out to him,

“Well I don’t want to fucking see you. Okay?”

She turned sharply on her heel, her shoes hitting against the polished floor as she headed for the door to get as far away as she possibly could from him. He took a step after her calling out her name,

“Y/N—”

“I said I’m done”

She snapped without looking back as her hand moved forward to press against the cool glass of the door but that’s when his hand caught her wrist. Not hard- not even rough. Just a desperate, instinctual reach to stop her from walking away from him but it didn’t matter.

She flinched- visibly.

Her body jolted back, her breath catching in her throat like someone had shoved her against a wall, and she harshly snatched her hand away from him. His hand was off her in an instant, eyes wide with horror.

“Shit- I'm sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

His voice was genuinely shaken, like he'd just realised something too late... it didn't take a genius for him to figure out why she'd reacted that way. They stood there, the air heavy and still. Her chest rising and falling in quiet breaths. Him, frozen in place like if he moved too fast he’d shatter the last piece of her that was still standing in front of him. Y/N finally looked up at him, her voice cracked,

“I trusted you.”

Rafe’s lips parted like he wanted to speak, but the words never came. Just the ache of guilt, swelling like a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking out to her. “Out of everyone on this island,” she said, each syllable slow, deliberate, trembling,

“I trusted you.”

And God, that look in her eyes when she looked away- betrayal, hurt- it gutted him. Because no one had ever trusted him like that before- and he’d thrown it away in a moment of reckless anger which was worthless to him now. She didn’t need to see the look on his face to know it would upset her, but when she looked up to him again it almost stopped her in her tracks. Rafe was still standing there, just a few steps behind where she left him, eyes damp with unshed tears, his lower lip trembling like he was fighting it- like he was barely holding himself together. For a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe- but she didn’t have the space to carry his pain on top of hers. So she shook her head, a tiny, bitter movement- more to herself than to him- and turned away. She didn’t wait to see if he’d call out again, she didn’t want to hear anything else come out of his mouth. Y/N pushed through the exit doors into the still, quiet night.

The staff parking lot was nearly empty now. Sofia’s little beat-up car was a few spots over from her own, the manager’s black SUV on the far side but that was it. Empty asphalt, dim overhead lights, and the sound of her own footsteps echoing with every step toward her car. She half-expected him to follow, but he didn’t. Good, she thought to herself he didn’t deserve to. As she approached her car, something caught her eye- a small, white rectangle tucked neatly beneath the wiper blade of her windshield. Her stomach twisted. She glanced around the lot on instinct, but saw no one. Carefully, she plucked the paper from under the wiper. It was a folded-up note card. And when she opened it, two crisp hundred-dollar bills fluttered to the pavement at her feet.

Her heart dropped as her eyes scanned the message.

" Sorry baby x "

She scoffed out loud, bitter and disbelieving, the sound catching in her throat like a laugh soaked in gasoline. She bent down slowly, picked up the bills, her fingers trembling. Was this a joke? Was this what he thought would make things better? Footsteps echoed behind her and she didn’t even need to turn because she knew it was him. Hot rage snapped through her chest like a rubber band and before she could think twice, she whirled around and stormed back toward him, shoes slamming against the pavement. Her fist clutched the note and the cash tightly, nails biting into her palm. He was just a few yards away, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking slowly like he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing- but when she closed the distance between them, he stopped dead in his tracks. Without hesitation, she shoved the paper and bills into his chest shoving him back, her voice shaking from fury.

“I don’t want your fucking money Rafe!”

The bills nearly slipped from his hands as he reached up, fumbling to catch them. His brows furrowed, panicked and hurt.

“I’m just trying to help you—”

“I’m not a FUCKING CHARITY CASE!”

She snapped yelling out at him, voice rising, eyes glinting under the parking lot lights. The words hung between them like a slap and he stared at her like she’d just knocked the wind out of him. She could see it now- the way his mouth opened, then shut again, how he couldn’t look her in the eye, how the words on his tongue died before they ever reached his lips. Because he knew. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t something a couple hundred bucks and a sorry would fix. But still… he reached for her. Not to touch, but to speak- his voice cracked, low.

“Y/N…”

She stepped back.

"Don’t."

Her breath hitched, and she swallowed it down with every ounce of strength she had left. She looked at him, really looked at him- messy hair, tired eyes meeting that wounded expression on his face like he was the one who got hurt- and it made her sick. "You don't get to be upset," she whispered, voice trembling but sharp as glass.

"This is your fault."

She spoke out through gritted teeth and he just shook his head in response and he sighed out, his hand coming out and running over his hair before he could say another word to her, she turned and walked away she refused to listen to hi-

“I love you”

His voice cuts through the space between them- soft and low, but it stopped her in her tracks like a bullet. Y/N froze, completely, her back still to him. Her hand comes up over her face, trembling as she tries to breathe through it, tries to swallow down everything rising in her throat. She feels like her knees are about to give out underneath her, chest heaving with the kind of pressure that builds until it becomes unbearable, the kind that threatens to spill out in hot, angry tears. What the fuck was he doing? Her hand drops slowly to her side, fingers twitching, keys clinking in her grip. She turns, slow and tired and sharp all at once, and lifts her chin just enough to meet his gaze. Her voice is tight, quiet, venom-laced and barely hanging on.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

She takes a step back like his presence burns. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because—” she starts, then bites the word off, jaw clenching as she shakes her head, like she can just shake him out of her mind.

“Just don’t.”

But Rafe- he stays rooted to the pavement, watching her like she’s sand slipping through his fingers and he's desperate enough to fall to the floor and start picking up each grain individually. “Please,” he says, voice rough with a pleading edge she’s never heard from him.

“Just listen to what I have to say”

She shakes her head again, more frantic this time, her thumb jabbing the car key until she hears a beep, the headlights flashing like a warning. She storms toward the door, her breath hitching in her throat. “Well then talk to me,” Rafe tries again, following her now, steps echoing hers. Desperation claws into his voice.

“Please Y/N- talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, okay?”

She whirls around so fast he almost walks right into her, and with a sharpness that nearly cuts the air and she snaps, voice cracking in the middle, hand shaking around the keys.

“I don’t want to talk to you- my whole life is crumbling around me, and funnily enough, you seem to be the core of my problems.”

“No, I’m not—”

“Yes you are!”

Y/N yells as she raises her hands in defeat, voice ringing out across the empty parking lot, echoing off metal and asphalt and silence. She’s standing there, chest rising and falling so hard it looks like she might collapse under the weight of it all. Her lip trembles as she stares at him- like he’s the storm and she’s the goddamn wreckage.

“I seem to only be thinking about you!”

She chokes out, the words ragged. Real. They're out of her mouth before she can stop them and when they land, when the truth hangs heavy and cruel between them, her entire expression shifts. Like the world’s been ripped from beneath her feet and she’s the one who did it. Her lips press together, her shoulders sag, and her eyes flicker down like she’s already trying to take it back.

But it’s too late.

Rafe just stares at her, a flicker of pain surging behind his eyes. No smirk, no cocky retort, no smug line like always. Just... stunned- like he’s been punched in the chest. She exhales shakily and reaches for the car door handle, gripping it so tight her knuckles go white. She tries to anchor herself to the cold metal but then his voice cuts through the silence, earnest.

“...I think about you too.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as though to block his voice out.

“All the time I'm thinking about yo-”

“No.”

Her voice is barely a whisper now fractured and frightened.

“Stop.”

“Why?” Rafe asks, his tone is softer this time.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Her fingers tremble where they rest against the door, and she swallows hard, the lump in her throat too big to ignore now. “I can’t-” she croaks, shaking her head like it physically hurts her to speak.

“I can’t do this with you, Rafe. I just can’t.”

“Why?”

His voice is gentle- almost pleading- just a thread of sound in the night air. He steps closer, careful not to touch her, but close enough that she can feel the heat of him lingering like a ghost, like he’s haunting her just like everything else she’s tried to bury. “Y/N,” he says, his tone catching at the edges,

“you know you want to. So why are you running away?”

She doesn’t answer. She just stands there, shaking her head slowly, lips pressed tight like she’s trying to hold herself together with sheer will alone. Because how is she supposed to explain it? How does she say out loud that love feels like a noose around her throat- that she's only ever known the kind that hurts. She hates it- hates that he’s asking the very question she keeps asking herself.

Why is she running?

The answer lodges in her chest, sharp and bitter: because she’s scared. Scared of how much this means, scared of what it could take from her, scared of how much it already has. She’s never really been loved. Not the way people are supposed to be. Not by her father, who only ever saw her as a mirror of everything he hated. Not even- if she’s being honest- by JJ, because JJ has the Pogues he has John B and the others and she… she’s always felt like second place- like an afterthought, even when they swore they were all each other had. So yeah- she’s scared. Because this? What she feels when Rafe looks at her, what stirs deep in her gut when he says her name like a prayer he’s never gonna stop saying, it’s terrifying.

Because she loves him.

She loves him.

More than she even knew she could and that’s what terrifies her the most. Rafe sees the shift. The tear rolling down her cheek and his hands twitch at his sides- because he wants to reach out. Wants to tell her it's okay to be scared. That he’s scared too. But his voice breaks around the weight of it.

“Y/N I lov-”

“Please”

She whispers, eyes glossy as the salt water drips down the skin of her face, her voice raw and strained.

“Just let me go home.”

His jaw tenses hard enough it clicks, the muscle there jumping. His mind screams at him to keep her here, to talk it out until she's in his arm again but instead, he nods, jaw locked tight like he’s holding back something that might rip him in half if he lets it loose. He steps back and she can't meet his eyes. She just slips into her car like she’s done a thousand times, hands shaking as she fumbles with the key, breath stuttering through her chest. The door shuts with a quiet thud that sounds final.

And then- she’s gone. Taillights disappear down the dark road, red glow vanishing into the night. Rafe stands there for a second, not moving, just staring at where her car used to be. His chest rises and falls like he’s been running, but he hasn’t moved at all. His hands lift to his hair, a groan tearing from his throat, guttural and helpless. He paces once, twice in rage and heartbreak and desperation tangling all over each other until he doesn’t even know what to feel anymore.

Because fuck.

He knows that she loves him but he’s scared he’s already lost her anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive home is silent, except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath her tires. Her hands are loose on the wheel now, posture slumped like all the weight of the night has finally caught up to her. The headlights sweep over the front of her house as she pulls in, illuminating the weather-worn porch, the chipped paint on the steps.

She parks and cuts the engine.

For a moment, she doesn’t move. Just rests her forehead gently against the steering wheel and closes her eyes quiet sniffles filling the car. She lets herself sink into the kind of stillness that feels like sinking into water- quiet, numbing, heavy. She sits there and thinks for a moment, she thinks how she wishes she could just start over. Somewhere far away, somewhere no one knows her name and no one knows what she’s done. Somewhere she could exist without always feeling like she's on the edge of ruin. Like she's constantly holding everything together with nothing but her fingertips and good intentions. Her chest tightens as she breathes out a shaky sigh finally reaching for the door handle.

She steps out into the cool night, her shoes landing softly on the dried grass. The sky is thick and clouded, swallowing the stars whole, no moonlight shining through. As she approaches the porch, she notices just a faint flicker of light through the drawn shutter blinds. Her steps quiet as she doesn’t want to make a sound. Y/N slides her keys into the lock carefully, twisting them with a gentle hand.

Click

The door eases open and she slips inside and shuts it behind her—softly, gently, like maybe if she moves quiet enough, nothing will break but as she turns around and stops cold. Dead in her tracks. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes lock onto the living room just a few feet ahead.

Her father is sitting on the couch.

Half his face lit by the dim glow of the table lamp beside him. The other half shrouded in darkness. His shoulders are hunched forward, one hand dangling off his knee, a glass of something clutched loose in his fingers. Whiskey maybe, or vodka, or whatever was cheapest this week. His eyes are open and staring straight at her. It’s like the air’s been sucked out of the house. His expression unreadable beneath the haze of alcohol—and maybe something stronger. She’s still frozen there, heart pounding so loud she can feel it in her throat, her ears, her ribs. Like it’s trying to crawl out of her. But it’s not him that makes her stomach twist into knots and her lungs forget how to breathe. It’s what’s sitting on the table in front of him, laid out neatly on the small coffee table like some sort of offering.

A pair of her stripper heels.

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 months ago

Text

STITCHED TOGETHER

PAIRING: michael “robby” robinavitch x female reader

RATING: explicit

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

SUMMARY:

after accidentally cutting your hand, you seek out your neighbor for help. a favor becomes a friendship and a friendship becomes something more.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

no use of y/n, dual pov, mentions of blood/wounds, mentions of domestic/child abuse (a case at the hospital), hurt/comfort, neighbors to lovers, baked goods as a flirting mechanism, explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), vaginal fingering, edging, oral - f receiving, light choking, praise kink, dirty talk, kissing, begging, p in v, multiple positions - missionary and cowgirl, a sprinkle of domesticity

Your hand pulses with pain. The dish towel you’ve wrapped tightly around your palm is now stained with blood. You raise your fist to knock on your neighbor’s door, hoping that he’s home. You don’t know much about Robby, but you know he works long shifts at the ER, always leaving the apartment with a thermos of coffee and coming home late with shadows under his eyes.

There’s no answer to your knock, no sounds of movement from behind the door, and you mumble a curse beneath your breath. You lift the towel from your palm to check the wound, the fabric sticking slightly to your skin and making you wince. It’s still just as deep as it felt and you’re pretty sure you need stitches but—

“Everything okay?”

You look up. Robby is standing at the end of the hall, the door to the stairwell closing behind him. He must have just finished at work since he’s still dressed in a pair of wrinkled scrubs, exhaustion dragging his shoulders down. You suddenly feel very guilty for bothering him.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, aiming for nonchalant. His eyes catch on your hand where you have it cradled close to your body. Something shifts in him, like a switch flips and suddenly he’s not Robby, your neighbor, but Dr. Robby.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He asks, long strides carrying him down the hall. He drops the backpack on his shoulder to the floor, all his attention zeroed in on your hand. “Let me see.”

You hold your hand out. He carefully unwraps the towel.

“It’s fine, really, I was just going to ask if you think I need stitches—“

“You do.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess I better—“

“I can do it.”

“No, no, that’s okay, I can just —“ Robby looks up at you, still holding your hand, and you feel your heart lurch at the sharp edge in his eye. The rest of your words fade away.

“Come on, I’ve got a suture kit under the sink,” he says, grabbing his bag and digging his keys from the front pocket. He unlocks the door to his apartment, leaving it open behind him in a clear invitation. After a second of hesitation, you follow him, shutting the door behind you.

Robby’s apartment is a mirror image of yours. Open concept, with the living room blending into a dining area that opens up to the kitchen. There’s not much in the way of decoration, but it’s clearly lived in — a stack of magazines on a low coffee table, a comfortable looking leather couch with a blanket draped over the back, and a small collection of empty coffee cups on the counter by the sink.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, crouching down to fetch the aforementioned suture kit. “Bring your hand over the sink for me.”

You do as you’re asked, unwrapping the towel and setting it on the counter. Robby washes his hands and dries them with a paper towel before pulling on some blue gloves, his motions steadfast and efficient. He picks up a squeeze bottle with a long, curved tip and holds out a hand for yours.

He squeezes the contents of the bottle over your wound, using it to wash away some of the dried blood. When it’s clean, he sets the bottle down.

“Good news is that you didn’t manage to hit any tendons,” he says. “Bad news is that hand injuries hurt like a bitch.” He picks up a syringe, uncapping it and sticking it into a vial of clear fluid. “Some lidocaine will help while I stitch you up. When it wears off, you’ll need some Tylenol. You got any at your place?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He sticks the needle into your palm and you resist the urge to flinch. Each time he repositions it, you hold your breath.

“You gotta breathe for me. I know it hurts, but when it kicks in you’ll feel a lot better.”

You take a deep breath, the exhale shaky. Finally, he finishes with the needle. The pain has eased considerably as the anesthetic begins to do its job.

“Have a seat at the table for me,” Robby says, tilting his head toward the dining area. You settle into one of the chairs and he drags another close to you, setting a sterile bag on the table before taking a seat.

Peeling the bag open, he methodically removes the contents. First the blue sheet that he unfolds and lays on the table, followed by the tray of utensils. He pats the sheet and you set your hand, palm up, on it.

“So, you gonna tell me how you did this?” He asks, opening a swab stained with brown liquid that he runs over the edges of your wound.

“You’re going to think I’m an idiot,” you reply, heat rising to your cheeks. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a little smile.

“I’ve seen some stupid stuff. Promise this won’t even phase me.”

You sigh. “I was cutting an avocado.”

“Did you mistake your hand for it instead?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” He rips open a small package, pulling out a curved needle with a length of string already attached. “Finish the story.”

“I was holding it and sliced a little too deep. Went straight through the avocado skin and right into mine.”

“I wasn’t too far off. First stitch,” he says, sticking the needle through the edge of the cut. “Good thing I got home when I did.”

“I would have just gone to the ER if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, and you would have been waiting a few hours to get seen.”

“I feel bad. You’re off the clock. I’m sure you had things you wanted to do.”

“Had a hot date with my shower and some pizza rolls. I think they’ll forgive me for being late.”

You laugh and his eyes flick up, watching you for a brief moment before returning to the task at hand. A comfortable silence settles between you and you take the opportunity to really look at Robby.

He’s older than you by a few years if the grey in his beard is anything to go by. His dark hair looks like it’s grown out a bit from a shorter style and is a little messy, like maybe he’s run his fingers through it a few times. There are faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that grow deeper when his lips curl up in a smile. He’s handsome, you’ve thought as much since introducing yourself when you moved in, but up close and hunched over your hand, helping you with a gentle touch, he’s nearly devastating.

“Done,” he announces, reaching for the surgical scissors on the tray and snipping the end of the suture. “These are meant to fall out as the wound heals, so unless you notice any signs of infection, you shouldn’t need any follow up.”

“That was fast,” you say, looking over the neat row of stitches appreciatively.

“Years of practice.” He wraps a roll of gauze around your palm. “Keep the bandage on for at least twenty-four hours. After that, you can take it off but keep the area clean. Don’t soak it in anything. Try not to move your hand too much so they don’t pop. Alternate between Tylenol and Motrin for the pain.”

“I really can’t thank you enough,” you tell him. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try to be.”

Though he’s trying to make a joke, his tone sounds despondent. He clears his throat and busies himself with cleaning up the table, avoiding your gaze. You decide not to press him for an explanation. He hardly owes you one.

Later, back in your apartment and lying in your bed, you replay every moment of your interaction with Robby. The way he gently held your hand to check the wound, the confidence with which he moved, the sadness in his voice. You decide that you have to repay him for his help and you know just the way to do it.

Robby is half asleep on the couch when there’s a knock at the door. He checks his watch and frowns. It’s just after eight, the sky dark outside the window, and he’d taken an unexpected nap after his shift. His stomach grumbles, the aching hunger he’d felt when falling asleep returning with a vengeance.

He stands and stretches, rubbing the back of his neck as it cracks and shuffling down the hall to open the door. You’re standing across the threshold with a plate in your hands and a bright smile on your face.

“Hey! I hope I’m not bothering you,” you say, smile faltering as you take him in. “Did I just wake you up?”

“Just from a nap,” he replies, willing himself to look less grumpy. Based on the way your smile dips into a frown, he’s probably not doing a great job. “It’s fine, I promise.”

“I brought cookies. As a thank you. For fixing my hand.” You hold the plate out toward him and he takes it. The bottom is warm. “Chocolate chip.”

The scent reaches him and he nearly groans. “Thank you, but I can’t take these.”

“Are you gluten free? Shit, I should have asked before making something.”

“No, I just mean you don’t need to thank me.”

“Of course I do!”

At that moment, his stomach betrays him, audibly announcing his hunger. You raise an eyebrow at him, hands on your hips, and he knows he’s lost this argument.

“Fine. If you’ll come in and eat one, too,” he says. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning to head toward his kitchen and hoping you’ll follow. When the door shuts and the soft sound of footsteps grows louder, he fights back a victorious smile.

He sets the plate on the counter and pulls off the aluminum foil on top. A small pile of golden brown chocolate chip cookies sits on the ceramic. You stand on the other side of the island, watching him. He picks one of the cookies up and takes a bite, groaning at how delicious it is.

“Christ, that’s good,” he says, punctuating the compliment with another bite. “You made these?”

“Yep. Even used the good chocolate. The real secret is a sprinkle of fancy sea salt.” You reach across the counter and pluck one of the cookies from the pile for yourself.

“How’s your hand doing?” Robby asks. You hold the hand in question out towards him. It’s been a little over a week and some of the stitches have started to dissolve, two of them still hanging on near the deeper part of your wound. “Looks good.”

“Thanks to a good doctor,” you say. He snorts, the sound self-deprecating even to his own ears. You frown, but don’t try to dig, which is nice. He’s so used to being around people who want him to be an open book when he’d rather sit quietly on a shelf, handling things on his own.

“I need to order dinner.” He turns his back to you, rifling through his junk drawer for the menu of the Chinese place down the street.

“I’ll just—“

“You wanna stay?” He asks, cutting you off. Your eyes go wide with surprise and he begins to internally berate himself when your expression shifts, going soft and warm.

“Sure. What are we ordering?”

It becomes a thing.

The first batch of cookies was a thank you. The second batch was a recipe test. Your excuse for the third batch was that you just made too many and would he want some?

He never turns you away, even if he looks dead on his feet from a long shift. He perks up when he spots the plate in your hands and invites you inside, singing your praises as he tries the recipe of the week. At the rate you’re going through sugar and butter and flour, you’ll need a membership to one of those bulk stores by the end of the month.

Robby doesn’t knock on your door, never seeks you out himself, but he does ask you to stay whenever you stop by. Over dinner, he’ll ask you about your week and listen as you talk about your job or the plans you made with your friends. He doesn’t talk about his own work much, not unless he’s got a funny story to share. You have a feeling he keeps the difficulty of his job close to his chest, shouldering the concern on his own.

That changes on a Friday night.

It’s late, nearly midnight, and you’re reading in bed, a half drunk glass of wine on your nightstand. A sound breaks through your concentration and you pause your reading, listening for it again.

It’s a knock. Soft, so soft you can barely hear it, three taps against your door, followed by silence. You scramble from your bed, nearly tripping on the duvet in the process, and rush down the hall.

When you open the door, Robby is there. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, and you know without asking that he’s had a tough night. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw, the way he’s staring at you without really seeing.

“Come inside,” you tell him. He nods and walks past you, pausing in your living room. Compared to his apartment, yours exudes personality. Mismatched furniture and bookshelves full of memories, photographs and art on the walls.

He takes it in while you head to the kitchen, pulling together a sandwich from the contents of your fridge and filling a glass with water. You bring the plate of food and the glass to the living room, placing both on the coffee table and settling yourself on the couch, legs crossed under you. When he doesn’t move, you pat the cushion next to you.

“Eat,” you command.

Robby does as you ask and starts with the water. He drains the glass in a few desperate gulps and you refill it for him while he starts on the sandwich. You turn the TV on to fill the silence, putting on a nature documentary. You watch the show, your attention half on the eating habits of pangolins and half on the man beside you, concern creeping up your spine.

He still hasn’t said anything.

When the plate and glass are both empty, you start to get up to clear them away, but a warm hand on your wrist holds you in place. Your gaze locked with Robby’s, you slowly sit back down. He releases your wrist and you bring your hand up, settling it on the back of his neck and gently tugging him towards you, urging him to lie down. His head is on your lap, pillowed on your bare thighs, and he brings his knees close to his chest to fit the rest of his body on the couch.

You run your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp. The tension eases from his body, like a balloon slowly losing air. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a contented sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask.

“Not really.”

“Because you don’t want to or because you think I wouldn’t want to hear about it?”

He sighs. “You don't want to hear this shit. Trust me.”

“We’re friends, Robby. You can talk to me.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yeah. Friends,” you reply, despite the sudden dryness of your mouth and the racing of your pulse. He’s quiet for a long moment and you think maybe he still won’t open up but then he takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

“Lost a patient today. A teenager who got between his mom and his piece of shit dad that was wailing on her. The guy pulled a gun on his own son and ran.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He turns, lying more on his back. His eyes are wet with tears that have gathered but refuse to fall. “We did everything we could do. I know that. But I had to look that mom in the eyes that her husband bruised and tell her that her baby was gone.”

There’s nothing you could say to take the pain away, so you don’t. But, you sit through it with him.

Sometimes, that can be enough.

Robby paces the length of his apartment from the door to the kitchen. It’s been a week since that night in your apartment and he can’t get it out of his head.

First he was stuck on the way you took care of him, how you knew what he needed without having to say anything. You were the calm to the storm in his head, the one that raged despite every strong command given to his team in an effort to save the boy’s life that day. He tends to shoulder the responsibility and, subsequently, the guilt on his own but it had been surprisingly helpful to let someone else in, someone who wanted to be there for him without a shared trauma bond. He felt lighter when he returned to his apartment that night.

Over the last couple days, however, the fixation shifted to the way your hands felt on him. The memory of your fingers dragging through his hair, though soothing in the moment, has morphed into something more. It’s no longer a gentle caress in his mind, but a sharp tug while he’s got his face between your thighs, tongue diving deep and desperate.

Despite these thoughts, he’s hesitant to reach out again, especially with these new ideas for how to spend his time with you in his head. But you also hadn’t come over in a week and he worries that maybe you view him differently now that he’s let the wall down a little, he probably should have just—

“Achoo!”

Robby pauses, his attention gripped by the sudden sound that came from the direction of your apartment. He drifts closer to his living room wall.

“Achoo!”

Another sneeze, followed by a pained groan. Are you…sick? Is that why you haven’t come around yet? Before he can overthink it, he’s leaving his apartment and knocking on your door.

When you answer with a blanket held tight around you and a tissue clenched in your hand, he feels a conflicting rush of relief and concern. You sniffle loudly.

“Robby? What are you doing here?”

“I heard you sneeze.” You blink at him, wobbling a bit on the spot. He reaches out to steady you, hands on your shoulders. Gently, he urges you back inside your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your room, the same as his but infinitely more comfortable. While he furnished his apartment, he didn’t take care to really make it a home, not when he spends so many hours at work. He didn’t see the point. Stepping into your room, it’s the opposite, facets of your personality in every corner.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed. A pile of tissues has taken up residence on your nightstand and he gathers them up while you make a feeble attempt to stop him.

“That’s gross, don’t touch those,” you whine. “I can clean them up.”

“Lie down,” he commands.

“Bossy, bossy.”

Robby hides his smile by leaving the room to throw the tissues in the trash. While in the kitchen, he finds your cabinet of mismatched cups and fills one with water. Rummaging through the pantry, he finds an open box of crackers that he brings back to your room.

“Where’s your medicine?” He asks. You gesture towards the bathroom and he digs through the cabinets until he finds a bottle of Tylenol. He shakes out a few into his palm and brings them back to you. “Take these.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you told me to take Tylenol, I’d have two nickels.”

He laughs as he watches you swallow down the medicine and drink half of the glass of water. He hands you a sleeve of crackers.

“Eat a couple of those so that you don’t end up with an upset stomach.”

When you’ve finished, you set the remaining crackers on your nightstand and wiggle down the bed, bringing your blanket up to your chin. Robby sets a palm on your forehead and you watch him with an expression he can’t name.

“Am I gonna be alright, doc?” You ask. He smiles.

“Yeah, I think you’ll pull through.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Rather than respond, he walks around your bed to the other side and toes off his sneakers. He gets on the bed, staying on top of your blankets as he makes himself comfortable. You turn on your side to look at him.

“Thanks for coming,” you whisper.

“That’s what friends do.”

You wake to a heavy weight around your waist and warmth at your back. At first you’re confused until the memory of asking Robby to stay with you comes into focus. You remember him getting in bed with you, keeping himself on top of the covers while you snuggled underneath to fight off the constant chill your fever brought on.

You turn over slowly, careful not to disturb him. He’s still on top of the covers but he’s curled himself around you, his head nearly on your pillow in an effort to get closer. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths and his features are soft with sleep.

The shrill beep of an alarm breaks the silence and Robby wakes with a sharp inhale. You quickly close your eyes, pretending to be asleep as he moves around, presumably trying to get his phone out to shut off the alarm. The noise abruptly cuts off and you hear him let out a deep breath.

He shifts beside you. A palm is pressed to your forehead and his touch lingers for a moment, his fingers tracing your cheek as he pulls away. You fight to keep your breathing slow and even despite the fierce pounding of your heart against your ribs.

Robby gets up from the bed, the mattress creaking as his weight lifts from it. You hear his light footsteps around the room, followed by the quiet click of your door being shut. With him gone, you turn onto your back and stare up at the ceiling.

You know he had to leave, he probably had to get ready for work, but you wish he didn’t. A fantasy plays out in your head, one where he gets to sleep in and you wake up before him, sneaking into the kitchen to make coffee. He wakes up while you’re waiting for it to finish brewing, strong arms wrapping around your waist and his beard tickling your neck when he kisses your neck. The image fades as sleep catches up to your exhausted body, pulling you back into its embrace for the rest of the morning.

“Dr. Robby?”

Robby shakes his head free of his thoughts and looks to his left. Mel’s got a clipboard in her hands and a question in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks in that blunt but empathetic way of hers.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks in return. She blinks.

“Oh, uh, it’s just…you seem distracted?”

He is distracted. There’s been a restless fire in his veins ever since he woke up beside you, holding you close. He hasn’t seen you in a couple days now, giving you the space to get over your cold, and it has him growing a bit desperate, though he would never admit as much out loud and especially not to one of the med students.

“Everything is fine, Dr. King. Whatcha got for me?”

Mel launches into a presentation on a twenty-three year old female that was triaged for abdominal pain. Robby listens attentively and joins her at the patient’s bedside as she delivers a diagnosis and describes the treatment plan. One patient turns into…somewhere around thirty, he thinks. He lost count.

Finally, he finishes his shift and heads out into the night. Back in his apartment, he showers, changes his clothes, and brushes his teeth for good measure. He’s rushing through the after work motions, an energy in him that he only feels when he’s making a split second call that could mean life or death in the ER.

Basic needs met, he gets his shoes on and leaves his apartment. Five quick steps have him knocking at your door. His pulse kicks into high gear when he hears your footsteps on the other side.

You open the door and your smile lights up your face when you see him and he knows you’re saying something but his focus is entirely zeroed in on your lips and how he desperately needs to feel them against his. He reaches out, framing your face between his palms. There’s a flash of surprise in your eyes but then he’s kissing you.

Finally.

“Hey! I was just about—“

Your words are cut off by Robby kissing you.

Robby is kissing you.

With his hands on your jaw, he urges you back inside your apartment and kicks the door shut behind him. One large palm moves cradles the back of your head, cushioning the blow when your back hits the wall and he presses his body close to yours, chest to chest and a thigh between your legs.

You’re in sensory overload, overwhelmed by the feel of his broad shoulders beneath your hands, the smell of his shampoo, and the faint taste of mint when his tongue tangles with yours. His hand settles on the side of your neck and you wonder if he can feel the way he makes your heart race beneath his palm.

When he pulls back, he traces a thumb over your lips, open admiration in his gaze. He presses down on your lower lip and you obey the silent command to open up, let him in, give him more. His breath stutters when you close your lips around his thumb and suck. He pulls it free with a lewd pop, dragging his hand down your neck, squeezing lightly at the base of your throat. Before you can react, his touch ventures lower and you gasp when he roughly palms your breast. Your hips flex against his thigh in a bid for friction.

All of a sudden, Robby steps back, taking your hand in his and leading you down the hall to your bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he says, voice low and rough. You hurry to comply, crawling up the mattress and lying back on the pillows, anticipation and the hungry look on his face making the ache between your thighs nearly unbearable.

He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your legs, and runs his hands over your thighs and beneath the fabric of your shorts. You arch your back when his thumbs dig into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him, but not close enough. A whine escapes you.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks.

“Want you to fuck me,” you tell him, lifting your hips.

“Can’t do that yet.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Robby’s fingers curl into the elastic of your shorts, pulling the fabric down. You lift your hips again so that he can pull them off and toss them to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. His hand presses one of your thighs to the mattress, keeping you spread open for him as he drags his thumb over your pussy, starting at the damp spot near your entrance until he reaches your clit.

“You have to cum on my fingers,” he presses down against your clit, “and my mouth first. Think you can do that?”

When you don’t respond to his question, the deep pressure of his thumb is replaced by a light smack of his fingers. You gasp at the sharp contrast in sensation and try to close your legs instinctively, only to be blocked by his body and the firm grip of the hand still on your thigh.

“Answer me,” he demands, removing his hands from you and raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Yes,” you tell him. You’re pretty sure you would do anything this man asks as long as he touches you again. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk.

“Good girl.”

Those two little words are like a bolt of lightning straight to your core and he knows it, his knowing gaze making you feel hot and flustered. He removes your underwear and with the last barrier gone, he drops to his stomach and brings his face mere inches from your soaked pussy.

His breath fans across your heated skin and that’s the only warm up you get before his mouth is on you, his tongue circling your clit and lapping at your entrance. Your hands are drawn to his hair, fingers gripping the short strands. He looks up at you as he sucks your clit between his lips and groans when you pull sharply on his hair in response.

If you thought Robby would finish this quickly to get on to the main event, you were incredibly mistaken. The man between your legs brings you to the brink of release before dragging you back from the edge more times than you can count, to the point where tears gather in the corners of your eyes and you let out a pained groan of frustration.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asks, lifting his head but keeping up steady circles of his thumb against your clit. Not fast enough to bring you off, just enough to keep your need simmering at the surface. You glare at him.

“Let me come already,” you say through gritted teeth. He laughs.

“You could try asking nicely. Say please.”

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing around words that won’t form. He brings his mouth back to your abused bundle of nerves, licking with broad circles that have you seeing stars. You’re so close, just a little more—

He starts to pull back. The pressure of his tongue grows lighter. You drop your head to the mattress and one of those trapped tears finally escapes, rolling down your temple. You’ve never begged a man for anything before but there’s a first time for everything.

“Please, please, please,” you gasp. “Robby, please.”

Two fingers press against your entrance and slide inside, the sudden stretch making you gasp. He curls them against your inner walls with each drag of his hand from your body. The pressure and speed of his tongue on your clit increases. Your thighs start to shake as the thread of tension in your core tightens until it finally snaps and you come with a strangled shout of his name.

Robby doesn’t stop touching you. He keeps his fingers buried in your cunt and his mouth busy by gently licking you through the waves of your orgasm. Finally, he sits up. You watch as he takes off his shirt and stands up quickly to remove his shoes and sweatpants. His cock bobs free and your mouth practically waters at the sight of it. Not excessively long but he is thick and if you thought his fingers were a stretch, his cock might just split you in half. A bead of precum has gathered at the slit and you watch him smooth his thumb through it before dragging his fist over his length with a groan.

“Condoms?” He asks.

“Top drawer.”

He grabs a foil packet and tosses it on the bed before crawling over you, settling his body over yours. He kisses you, deep and slow, grinding his hips into yours and dragging his cock through the mess he’s made of you. His lips deliver the taste of you to your tongue, earthy and erotic. You moan into the kiss when he drags against your clit.

Keeping himself balanced with one elbow on the bed beside your head, he uses his free hand to hitch your leg over his hip, opening you wider and bringing you closer. His lips find your neck, lavishing your sensitive skin with kisses and nips of his teeth. You need this man inside of you now.

“Robby, please.”

He nods against your neck, sitting up only long enough to roll the condom down his length before his weight is back on you, pressing you into the mattress. He flexes his hips against you but this time, the thick head of his cock catches against your entrance and he starts to ease inside, achingly slow. His eyes stay fixed to yours as he does.

“You feel so fucking good,” Robby says, face buried against your neck. You clench around him in response and he chokes on a groan. “Don’t do that, I’m trying not to embarrass myself here.”

You do it again for good measure.

He lifts his head, eyes narrowed at you, and pulls his hips back, his cock dragging against the same spot that made you come on his fingers. He thrusts forward with a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs.

He sets a pace that has you seeing stars and moaning his name like a prayer. Your orgasm builds, coiling tight in your center, but you’re not ready for the release. You push against Robby’s shoulder and his expression grows concerned, a deep crease forming between his brows as he pulls back, allowing you room to sit up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks.

“No, no,” you assure him. “I just…can I get on top?”

A boyish grin chases the worry from his face and he flops onto his back in the empty space on the mattress. You laugh as you straddle his hips though it turns into moan when you sink down onto his cock. The angle is deeper and there’s an added friction to your clit with every roll of your hips. Robby’s hands are everywhere, squeezing your ass roughly or pinching a tight nipple between his fingers.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, head pressed back into the pillow, the long line of his neck on display. “Just like that.”

You place your hands on his chest for balance, the dusting of coarse hair tickling your palms. When you lean forward, he meets you in a kiss that’s mostly shared breath. Your pace slows and Robby takes over, his feet planted on the mattress to thrust up into you.

“Come for me,” he says against your lips. “I need it, sweetheart, come on.”

You drop your head against his neck, licking at the sweat damp skin as your orgasm returns, no longer a slow building wave but a tsunami that floods your nerves and leaves you drowning in sensation. Your walls tighten around his cock and he groans, dragging you down onto his lap and holding you there as he pulses inside of you.

Sweat cools on your skin. Your breathing slows. His hands trail up and down your back, the gentle touch and cold air of your room making your skin prickle. You lift your head and press your forehead against his.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble.

“Just Robby is fine,” he says.

You lift your head so that he can see you roll your eyes before slowly getting up, a satisfying ache in your muscles and between your legs. You go to the bathroom and Robby comes in as you’re washing your hands, tossing the condom in the trash and washing his hands as well.

You return to bed, crawling beneath the blankets. Robby joins you, lying on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest, your eyelids already heavy with exhaustion.

“Will you stay with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

Robby wakes to sunlight and the smell of coffee. He stretches before finally rolling out of bed and finding his sweatpants on the floor, pulling them on to follow the scent of dark roast straight to the kitchen.

He finds you at the counter, your hips swaying to a song that plays at a low volume from a bluetooth speaker on your dining table. A pan sizzles on the stove and you pour the contents of a bowl into it. He steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck. You turn in his hold and kiss him, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He could get used to mornings like this.

When you turn back around, you pick up a knife and reach for the basket of fruit on the counter, plucking something from the pile.

“I hope that’s not an avocado.”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting 💕

Masterlists

#michael robinavitch #michael robby robinavitch #michael robby robinavitch x reader #the pitt #doctor robby #doctor robby x reader #doctor robby x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fic #dr robby #dr robby fanfiction #doctor robby fanfic #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #michael robinavitch the pitt

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hoondrop · 21 days ago

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ENHA AND BREEDING KINK

warnings: breeding kink, possessive sunghoon, knocking up, mention of choking, mention of cum play

most of the members have a breeding kink, you can't convince me otherwise however, they lie on different parts of the spectrum and have different reactions to you wanting them to breed you.

heeseung does not want to be too possessive but at times he's unable to contain the feeling, and what better way to channel it than to cum in you.

heeseung is absolutely obsessed with how his cock feels in your pussy and the image of yours and his cum leaking out of your hole. the first time you brought up the idea of unprotected sex and him cumming in you, he envisioned the sight of your eyes rolling back, your nails digging into his skin and the sight of his and your cum dripping out of your hole

and the more he thought about it (he has fantasized about it many times who's he kidding) the more he wanted to try it out. just the thought of him finishing in you had his cock twitching and he couldn't wait to do it.

the first time he fucks you raw, heeseung definitely cums quicker than he does usually. he never thought of himself having a breeding kink but when he sees his release dripping out of your hole, suddenly the vision of you carrying his babies doesn't seem far.

jay may have a few kinks he's shared with you and some that he's holding off until the right time and he is sure that someday in the future he wants to have kids with you, and even though he's big on protection and everything, he is also a hopeless romantic.

so maybe special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries are the exception when he holds you close, whispering confessions and promises of love and a future together with you while he has you in a mating press.

he's fond of the idea but he's not vocal about it as much, maybe a few comments about how pretty you'll look in the future when you carry his kids someday. but right now, he's content with leaving his marks on your body and his load in your hole.

jake. he's what you can call a freak who is obsessed with you and loves to leave you in a mess of his and your spit and cum.

the day you gave him the greenlight to fuck you raw and cum in you, poor baby almost came in his pants on the spot. it felt like christmas came early for him and without wasting any second, he was already tearing his and yours clothes off.

breeding you is the only thing on his mind, and as someone who's also into cum play, he'll finger you, spreading his release all over and around your cunt and then maybe either finger you until you're squirting or maybe he'll lap it all up with his tongue.

all in all, he's a messy freak who loves cumming in you and will go multiple rounds just so he can see your spent cunt dripping with his seed.

sunghoon. honestly, he's one of the most possessive if not the most possessive yet silent about it. it's not about knocking you up but more about claiming ownership of you by making sure your pussy is full of his cum.

and when the day comes when you manage to choke out for him to cum in you, his eyes get darker and he lets out that low chuckle that has your toes curling and your panties dropping..

he'll definitely comment something along the lines of you wanting to be claimed by him so bad that you're toying with the possibility of carrying his babies.. how you're so desperate for him to own you, for everyone to know you're his. he does not want kids for a while but theoretically, he can't wait to knock you up.

sunoo. when it comes to sunoo, having unprotected sex is a sign of trust and complete and utter devotion. he's a very responsible and careful person like jay, and knows how to control himself.

but there are moments where he just wants to be close to you, nothing coming in between the feel of his length. dragging in and out of you at a delicious pace, seeing the ring of your wetness form at the base of his cock.

does he think and whisper about the time when you both have to worry about protection sometime in the future after marriage? yes, he's quite vocal about it especially when he is balls deep in you, pressed in a missionary position, murmuring how he can't wait to take you like this every day.

jungwon. jungwon may seem like he has control over himself, but does he really? not when you're straddling him, sliding your folds along his length, feeling every vein and ridge of his pretty cock.

all resolve and caution is thrown out the window when he looks up at you, his usual boba eyes now glinting with that familiar look. and the second you start moving up and down his length, he doesn't care what the consequences can be.

all he wants, all he needs and all he thinks and pictures is holding you down by your hips as he shoots his cum up into your pussy.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #jake x reader #heeseung smut #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #jay x reader #jay smut #jake smut

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s0dium · 1 year ago

Text

Needier

A/n: Thanks for all the support. It is not necessary to read pt.1 to read this <3

Word Count: 3.6k

Pt.1

Warnings: Pervert Yuuta, panty sniffing, pining, male masturbation, pre mature ejaculation, edging, pussy eating, thigh humping, mentions of breeding, slight dubcon, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk

Yuuta Okkatsu would like to say that he is a patient man.

In fact he would even pride himself on this quality, that no matter how thin his restrain was stretched, no matter how much he was tested, out in the open, Yuuta Okkatsu remained composed

Of course, you wouldn’t know that. No, you certainly have no idea what a patient man Yuuta has been. Been for you. You have no idea that since that day, simply being near you is the ultimate test of his restraint. That every accidental touch sent a surge of electricity through his veins, coursing hot blood straight to his dick, and a swarm of most unholy thoughts on what he'd fucking do to you. You certainly haven't the faintest clue that beneath his calm smile, dark tired eyes, and casual conversation, his mind explores your body, fucks you until your creaming all over him, and makes you swallow every last drop of cum he'd fuck into your cute mouth.

There are times when he treads a line though. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, Yuuta finds excuses to be near you, to catch the faint scent of your shampoo or the unique fragrance that seems to encapsulate your essence. One time, he found himself in the dorm's laundry room, where your belongings were left slightly askew, a common sight among the hustle of Jujutsu student life. Among the disarray, a piece of your laundry accidentally catches his eye—pink underwear and a beige bra. His heart races with a mix of guilt and absolute longing as picks up the fabric and he buries his nose into the cloth, desperately breathing in your smell.

"F-fuck" Yuuta groans upon breathing your scent. How could you smell so fucking sweet? Damn it, his dick is already getting hard. But almost as quickly as he picked it up he puts your underwear down, chastising himself for the lewdness of his actions, the vulgarity.

Yes, Yuuta has resolved to bide his time. He will wait for the perfect moment, a serene pause in the rush of daily life, it is then when he will confess his feelings to you. It is then he won't have to be patient anymore.

His restraint always wavered at nightfall though. This night was no exception. Throughout the day, glimpses of you in your gym shorts and tank top haunted him, aroused him, etching a vivid image that refused to fade with the setting sun.

As he retreated to his room, the weight of the day's impressions bore down on him. The moment the door clicked shut, a sigh escaped his lips as he pulled out his dick and languidly fisted his length. Pre-cum was already dribbled on his pretty pink tip but he used the milky liquid to guide his hand up and down in fast fluid motions.

"Please, f-fuck please y/n" He whined, stumbling over to his bed where he could pull out the polaroid you took of him and yourself together. What would you think if you knew he had fucked himself almost every night to this seemingly wholesome selfie you took? Through heavy eyelids he gazes upon your face, the motion of his hand speeding up as the thoughts of you intensified. He wants to feel you so bad, be inside you, feel your walls squeeze around him struggling to take him in. How would your moans sound? How would your boobs feel like in his large palms, would you let him eat you out? Oh what a dream that would be, Yuuta doesn't think he'd stop licking your cunt if he ever got your chance. Yes, he'd make you feel so good, you'd make him feel so good, so much better than his fist, he's so close to cummin-

*ping*

Amidst the pleasure, Yuuta feels the vibration of his phone on his bed. He doesn't want to look not now, not now when he's so close, but his eyes accidentally wander to the screen, widening when they see the message is from you.

Blinking back the pleasure, Yuuta stops his ministrations, wipes his dominant hand on a piece of tissue, and grabs his phone. The screen lights up, and a jolt of surprise sends his heart plummeting when he sees your name. The message is simple,

"Wanna come over for a movie night in ten?"

His response is almost immediate.

"Yeah sure."

Yuuta's fingers tremble as he sends the message. Is this it? Is this the chance he has been waiting for? Hastily, he cleans his hands with a towel, discarding his current attire for something more casual. Stifling a soft groan, he tucks his half-hard dick into his sweatpants under his boxer's waistband. Then he replaces his white uniform coat with a graphic t-shirt, a more relaxed and inviting look

Checking his appearance in the mirror, he runs a hand through his black hair. He's always wondered how you perceived him. Did you find him as attractive like he did to you? Finally, unable to wait any longer, he exits his room. The short walk to your door feels like an eternity, each step heavy with a mix of nerves and excitement. He arrives, takes a deep breath to steady himself, and knocks softly.

Yuuta's breath almost catches in his throat when you open the door and his eyes fall upon your body and what you are wearing. You stand behind the door, bathed in the dim soft light of your bedroom, wearing a simple white tank top that Yuuta thinks is almost ethereal against your skin. One strap hangs loosely, teasingly off your shoulder, revealing the gentle curve of your collarbone and the subtle hint of your breast's outline. The fabric, light and airy, falls just short enough to offer a glimpse of your cute stomach and your black shorts that cling to your curves, sculpting the fat of your ass and the contours of your hips.

Is this what an angel look like Yuuta wonders?

"Yuu, hello Yuu, are you listening?" you wave your hand gently in front of his dazed eyes, trying to snap him back to the present.

"Oh yeah," Yuuta chuckles softly, "sorry just a little tired."

"Well you dont have to stand there come in!" you say through a smile, opening the door and stepping aside so Yuuta can come into your room.

As Yuuta steps over the threshold, a wave of your room's scent envelops him—the subtle blend of lavender and vanilla that he's caught hints of whenever you've been close, but never this intense. The scent sits on his tongue making Yuuta's head grow fuzzy. It's inviting, sweet, and intimate, filling the space with a warmth that makes the room seem cozier than its plain decor suggests.

Your room is tidy, with a soft pink rug adding a splash of color against the otherwise neutral tones. Your laptop is open on the bed, surrounded by a few scattered notes and pens. You sit down on the edge of the mattress, the bed shifting slightly under your weight, and pat the spot next to you, a silent invitation for him to join.

He takes a moment, thickly swallowing before moving towards you and taking the offered seat. The bed dips under his weight, bringing him slightly closer.

"So," you start, your voice a soft murmur in the quiet of the room, "wanna watch the new haikyuu movie? Ive been dying to see it'"

"S-sure" Yuuta manages to nod, his voice catching on the single syllable as he tries to focus on what you're saying rather than how close you are. He doesn't think he's ever been this close to you, your bodies are practically touching. He can see your facial expressions up close, and catch things he's never noticed before; like the twitch of your eyebrow or how you lick your lips when you focus on something

The movie begins with its vibrant opening scenes, characters leaping across the screen in intense volleyball matches, but you couldn't even ask Yuuta the names of the characters. It seems to be about some guys getting their panties in a twist over volleyball ball. He doesn’t know and frankly, he doesn’t care. He's too acutely aware of your presence just inches away, the warmth of your shoulder brushing against his every so often. How if he really tried, he could lean in and see down your shirt.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts, and steals a glance at you. God you are beautiful. He wants to say something, to make some comment about the movie to show he's paying attention, but words fail him. Instead, he just shifts slightly, moving a fraction of an inch closer to you under the pretense of getting a better view of the screen.

Something important must've happened because suddenly, you grab his thigh in reaction to a particularly intense scene in the movie. The sudden touch sends an electric jolt through him, and his dick jumps with excitement. Yuuta has to bite his lip to stifle a groan just from your touch. His face flushes a deep red, and he turns to look at you, catching your excited expression as you watch the screen. Of course you have no idea what you are doing to him.

Yuuta tries to refocus on the movie, but it's a futile effort. The warmth of your hand seeps through his clothing, igniting a fire that makes his dick strain against his waistband. His mind races with thoughts of turning to you, of closing the distance between you with a kiss that he's been fantasizing about. Is this it? Is this the moment he has been waiting for? Yuuta swallows hard, his mouth dry, his thoughts swirling with the possibilities of what could happen if he just leaned in and fucking kissed you.

Now, now now.

Yes, Yuuta is a patient man, until he isn't.

Without another moment's hesitation, Yuuta acts on the impulse that has been building within him. His hand, shaky with anticipation and nerves, reaches out to gently grasp your chin, turning your face towards him. The sudden contact startles you, pulling your attention away from the screen to his intense, longing gaze.

"Yuu- what?" You say softly but he doesn't respond. Instead, as if driven by a force beyond his control, Yuuta leans in and his lips meet yours in a kiss that is both tentative and desperate. It's, needy, messy, and hungry, his lips devouring yours with all the pent-up yearning and silent adorations he's harbored, a kiss that speaks to how god damn patient he's been.

Your initial shock gives way to the unfolding reality of the moment. The warmth of his lips against yours sends a surge of emotion through you, mingling surprise with an escalating thrill. He didn't know it, but you have been patient too.

Yuuta's heart races as he senses your hesitation melting away. This can't be real, you are actually kissing him back. Your lips are so soft against his, Yuuta is damn near having an out-of-body experience from how sweet you taste. His fingers slide into your hair, deepening the kiss with a gentle assertiveness, as if afraid you might pull away. But you don't. Instead, you lean into him, parting your lips to let his tongue slide in and entangle with yours. Your own hands find their way to his broad shoulders, gripping them for balance and perhaps, in a way, for anchorage amidst his desperation.

As your lips part, you both are left breathless, a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. You feel warmth blossom in your stomach when you meet Yuuta's gaze. He looks entirely bothered, pupils blown and dark black hair tousled from your roaming hands.

"More, please" Yuuta barely whispers before meeting his lips with yours again. This time he's bolder, one of his hands snaking under your white top to cup your boobs. "Oh fu-" He groans into your mouth, feeling the fat of your breasts fill in the gaps of his fingers as he squeezes and presses on the squishy skin.

Suddenly, Yuuta moves, his body positioning over yours in a fluid, careful motion and so his groin is on top of your thigh. For a moment your too absorbed in his messy kiss that you almost miss how he starts to grind his dick against your thigh.

"Ngh so good," Yuuta moans into your mouth, dragging his clothed crotch up and down your lower thigh, full on humping it. He knows he should stop, that he shouldn't be acting like some pervert, but Yuuta's brain is so fuzzy, so lost in the realization that you reciprocate his feelings and that this is actually happening, that he can't bring himself to do anything besides hump your leg like a he's in heat.

"Yuu, please...." You whine amongst his incessant kisses. You can feel a wet spot start to form on his sweatpants and you moan at the feeling of being used like a sex toy.

Yuuta wants to say something, something about how good he's feeling, something about the buzzing in his head and the warmth spreading through out his body. But he can't. Everything feels too good right now, too heavenly he can't even open his eyes or ignore the colors dancing across his eyelids. Your tongue feels so good against his, and your lips are so soft, he can't help but rut against your soft skin faster and harder, he can't stop himself from climbing high and higher into a euphoric bliss.

Then, it hits him. With a choked whine into your ear, Yuuta cums into his pants, leaving your thigh wet and sticky.

"Oh god baby I'm so sorry," he babbles, choking on each syllable from the aftershocks of his orgasm. Shit shit shit. How could be fuck up the opportunity so badly? Surly you were going to be disgusted by him, any moment now you were going to ask him to leave.

Reluctantly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, taken aback by what he sees. You're panting, cheeks flushed, lips glossy from his kisses, and your eyelids heavy with arousal.

"No no, It's okay, Yuu" you murmur, petting the back of his black hair, "I mean, we can stop if you want-"

"No!" Yuuta cuts you off. "Please, I... I want this. Wanna fuck you so badly baby please." He whines into your neck, peppering kisses on your soft skin.

And how could you stay no?

You nod and Yuutas eyes light up. Immediately he’s pulling down your pants and underwear, eyes widening at the sight of your cunt. If you wanted, Yuuta thinks he could cum again just from looking at you. Your first instinct is to close your legs, to shield yourself from being so exposed from Yuuta's intense gaze. However, two strong hands firmly grasp the underside of your thighs and press them towards you, effectively folding you in half and spreading you wide open.

"Yuu..." You whine, but your protests fall upon deaf ears. Right now Yuuta is in a whole other world. Right now, in this moment, Yuuta thinks he must have died and gone to fucking heaven. His tongue darts out to wet his lips because oh god he is practically drooling right now at the sight of you. He knew you where beautiful but Jesus christ. He releases one of your thighs to spread your wet folds with his pointer and thumb, pupils dilating at the sight of your tight hole clenching around nothing.

"Yuu pl~"

Yuuta doesn't let you finish the sentence because he is already on you, his eager hot mouth enveloping your twitching clit, licking and sucking. His tongue flattens, softly lapping at your sensitive pearl before swirling it around, fast and gentle enough to have you whining.

“Oh god yuuta m’ gonna c-cum”

Your voice has him moaning into your cunt and aggressively rutting his hips into the bed for relief. At this rate he was going to cum before you again, and that couldn't happen, no he needed to be inside you first.

Yuuta immediately relinquishes his ministrations on your pussy with a loud ’pop’ making you whine at the loss of your release that was so close.

“Not now baby ok?" He says through a groan. "Wanna feel you first, been dreaming about."

Yuuta's pulling down his sweatpants now, and you watch with wide eyes as his long length springs out. You don't know what you expected but you didn't expect him to be so big. Pre-cum dribbles down his pink tip and along the length of his member.

"Yuu, I dont think- I think its gonna hu-" You choke out but your words fall upon deaf ears. He's already aligning himself with your hole, and you jerk at the pressure of his tip against you.

"Slow, slowly please." You whisper and Yuuta wants to listen to you, he really does, but every cell in his brain is screaming at him to do the opposite. Yuuta stills against you, and for a moment you think he's going to say something, even acknowledge your words.

"M'sorry baby." He murmurs into your ear before bullying his length all the way inside of you. The world spins and for a second Yuuta's mind goes completely blank, he doesn't even hear the moan that's been ripped from your throat. All the nights he's fantasized about this moment, the hours he spent jacking off and touching himself, everything, all disappeared the moment he slipped inside you. You felt good? Try euphoric. Yuuta wasn't even thinking thoughts he was seeing colors. How could he ever think his fist could compare to you? The way your walls sucked in and hugged him, so wet and warm, god, no amount of fantasizing could've compared to the real thing.

“Y-you gotta l-loosen up baby or im gonna ah~”

It was all too much, he had just slipped in you, and yet and he was down for the count. Everything was too good too fast, he couldn't stop the high that was approaching even if he wanted to.

"fuckfuckfuck baby pl-" Its too late. Thick ropes of cum spill inside you, there's so much of it it's escaping from the sides of his dick and dripping out your hole.

You whine at the warm feeling blossoming in your stomach, and before you can even get a word in, Yuuta reels his hips back and slams into you.

“No not gonna stop,” He said through gritted teeth and your eyes widen when you feel his already hard again dick continue to push into you.

Your toes curl at the sensation of Yuuta's dick pressing against your cervix. The friction and the stretch of his member has your mouth falling open and your tongue panting out. In a great display of strength, he pulls both of your legs over his shoulders and grabs your hands to pin them down with his. The new position has his dick reaching spots you could only dream about hitting with your fingers, and as his thrusts speed up, you desperately hold onto Yuuta hands with yours.

"So good yuu!" You wail as he presses kisses along your neck, his hips not so much as stuttering as they thrust in and out of you like he is in heat.

“So good baby you feel so good wanna fuck you every day, never stop fucking you." He feverishly groans into your skin. Every time he thrusts into you, his hips reel back so his length leaves you almost empty, only to ram back into you again to keep you full and dumb on his dick.

Unable to handle the sensation, your back arches and your heels dig into the muscles of his back. Yuuta doesn’t let up his pace, in fact, he increases it, pounding your cunt like he will never get a chance again. He wants to make you shake, make you moan and whine with pleasure, and fill your brain with only thoughts of him until you're begging him to fuck you more and more. His mind is foggy, everything just feels and looks so good, he’s not even thinking when he lets go of one of your hands and shoves his two fingers in your mouth, digits pressing down on your tongue and swirling around in the spit.

“Your gonna let me use you when ever I want right? Gonna be good for me right?"

You nod repeatedly, sucking on fingers like candy.

"Gotta lot of time to make up for, for teasing me so long"

You can tell he's close because his words start to end in curses, and his breath his getting ragged and faster. Luckily for him, you're close too. The pleasure building in your core is starting to become unbearable, and the muscles in your leg where becoming weary from how long they have been tightened.

"Please cum on me baby," Yuuta begs into your ear, punctuating his words with sharp fast thrusts.

Fap,Fap,Fap

The sound of his skin against you filled your ears and almost as soon as Yuuta asks, your hurled toward the best orgasm you have ever experienced. You felt like your mind was exploding, like electric white hot arrows of pleasure coursed through your vains. You could feel your body shakes from the euphoria, and Yuuta watches you with blown pupils as you cum on his dick.

"S-so pretty when you cum, your so pretty to cu-" Yuuta is quick to follow, and with a whine his body tenses up and his back arches like a bow. As he blows his load, you feel his warmth soak your battered pussy and his hot breath panting against your ear. Yuuta almost feels drunk right now from how intense the pleasure is and his mouth partly falls open as his orgasm washes over him. Even as his dick starts to soften, he still ruts himself into you, riding the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"So good baby so so good." He murmurs into your ear.

Yuuta is so glad he doesn't need to be patient anymore.

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dwaekkicidal · 9 months ago

Text

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖽' ༄࿔ 𝖡.𝖢.

⤷ Size Kink | Stomach Bulge | Teratophilia (Wolf-Hybrid)

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, Red Riding Hood reader x Wolf Hybrid Chan, I never specify body type but this has stomach bulge & Chris is described to be bigger than the reader so read at ur own discretion, size kink, teratophilia, knotting, kinda corruption?, bribery/coercing, lowkey kinda mean chris (everyone act surprised. Sian wrote mean dom), rough sex + big dick chris with no mentions of prep, biting, public sex? Its in a forest but nobody is around, 1 use of “good girl’

sorta proofread

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Tsk tsk tsk… You should know better than to be this far out in the woods, Red. You know this is my territory.”

“C-Chris! Listen… I’m really sorry but I need that plant over there. Grandma isn’t doing well and the only remedy that will help needs just a few of those flowers…” The tall man looks over his shoulder, eyeing the purple-colored flowers that you had pointed out.

“Hm… Okay, you can have a few.” The bright smile that grew on your face was almost enough to let you take it for free. Almost.

“Thank-” “On one condition.”

“C’mon, sweet girl. You know I don’t do things for free~” His rough fingers stroked your cheek and he couldn’t help but grin as your smile dropped. The canines that peeked out from behind his plump lips were enough to bring you back to reality and remind you that he was in fact still a wolf hybrid and not so much your “friendly” neighbor.

“What exactly do you want…?” His grin seemed to get wider before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. A predatory glint took over his eyes as he slowly looked you up and down.

“I have something in mind…”

“Open the fuck up.”

His growl rumbles from deep within his chest and he thrusts his hips forward aggressively, causing you to cry out. Your thighs ache from the action, along with your swollen pussy thanks to the big dick that was currently tearing your insides up. You lost count after the first 5 inches, and now the seemingly never-ending length was quickly becoming too much for you.

He knew this all too well. But that didn’t stop him from forcing you and your little human body to take every last inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“C’mon Little Red, you can take it. You need to, remember?” He chuckles and pushes your thighs further apart. “You need those pretty little flowers, so you need to take my fucking cock.” His smile drops at the end of the sentence and he pulls out just to roughly thrust back inside. You moan out in surprise and his fingers dig further into your thighs, leaving crescent-shaped divots in your skin.

“P-Please…” He clicks his tongue and leans forward more, shoving his face into your neck with another growl. With this, he manages to push another inch or two into your puffy hole, but your mind is so foggy that you don’t even notice it right away. The feeling of him breaching your walls so aggressively, all while he growls and huffs about how he needs to be all the way in for it to “count as payment” makes your head spin.

Even more so as a sob rips from your throat when he finally bottoms out. Your jaw drops and you squeal as his hips grind against yours, causing him to feel deeper all while he rubs against your G-Spot so perfectly. He throws his head back at the feeling of you completely wrapped around him and groans deeply when you clench subconsciously.

“There we go~ Good job, baby.” He licks a stripe up your neck before placing kisses all over it, letting you take a few seconds to breathe. He wasn’t that much of a brute- he did still care for you after all. Plus, what good is a new toy if you break it so early on!? So he takes a few seconds to himself, backing away and fixing his posture, allowing him to get a good look at you. And God do you look exquisite.

He licks his lips and looks over your body multiple times, doing everything in his power to burn this image of you into his head. He starts with your pretty lips, swollen and shiny with drool, and then your flushed cheeks that are wet from the fat tears that fall down them.

His eyes glance at your arms, smiling to himself at the army of goosebumps that have littered your skin as your body shakes deliciously with what he can’t decipher if it’s pleasure or pain. Your chest catches his eyes next; the way it heaves with each breath you take makes his chest swell with pride. But the thing that took the most of his attention, was the not-so-little bump on your tummy.

His lips were slightly parted and his breath was quickening as he lightly traced the outline of his dick. It’s at this point that he realizes just how large and wide he is compared to you. He’s always noticed- it’s quite hard not to. But when he has you like this, below him and completely at his mercy, he finally realizes just how much bigger he is. The sun only urges him further, casting a giant shadow over you that completely covers you and some of the ground you lay upon.

It makes his instincts go absolutely crazy and he can’t hold himself back from experimentally thrusting, moving at an angle that makes the bulge more prominent. The squeak you let out causes his eyes to flicker back up to your face, essentially snapping him out of the daze he was in. And when he meets your confused face looking up at him, he realizes how long he has been staring.

“Haha… Take a look at this, baby.” He wipes some of your tears and tilts your chin to help you look down. The desperate moan you let out sends his ego to the moon, causing him to twitch against your walls. He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and begins to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly yet roughly.

“I’m so deep… You feel that, baby?” His hand moves from your thigh and pushes down on your lower stomach, right on top of where the bulge popped out each time he bottomed out. “Fffuck.. ‘S my fat cock in your tummy?”

“God- Fuck, shut up Chris-” You clench tightly at his words despite your words and he ignores you in favor of picking up his pace, groaning when your walls flutter around him even more.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s almost like this pretty pussy was meant for me.” You swear you almost see his eyes roll into the back of his head, but he immediately brings your attention away by folding you in half. Pushing your knees to your chest and letting your ass hang in the air as he completely hovers over you, fucking into you with carnal need.

This new position makes you see stars and he uses it to his advantage, pounding into you and not allowing you time to think straight. He chases this brutal pace until your legs begin to ache, the pain of it overpowering the pleasure and making you hurriedly tap on his shoulder and push him back, “Fuck, wait- my legs.”

He huffs in annoyance but responds immediately, sitting up straight and allowing your legs to fall to his sides. His hips continue to thrust shallowly as you breathe deeply and try to rub the ache away, but this break doesn’t last long. You owe him payment, and he wants it now.

So he pulls out, opting to quickly flip you onto your knees and push your chest into the ground. You’re given no time to object before he’s shoving his entire length back inside with a groan. Your body shakes at the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. The back of your throat even itches as if his tip was poking it. And god, did it genuinely feel like that.

It’s not hard for him to find his previous pace, especially now that you’re seemingly more pliant for him. The only disobedient action from you is your cries for him to slow down, but he has no plans to. Not when you look absolutely ruined below him.

He shushes you and leans forward, holding you down with his chest against your back as he continues to fuck you as if his life depends on it.

“Shhhhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re gonna be good and take it right? You're gonna let the big bad wolf fuck your brains out? Yea?” Your fingers dig into the ground and you nod as best as you can with your cheek shoved against the floor.

He’s unhappy with the silent answer and bares his teeth, sinking them into your shoulder with a growl to “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Chris!”

“Goood girl. Just sit there and take this fucking dick. Let Wolfy use you like the good chew toy you are.” The new name makes you clench tightly around him and he groans as you cum, causing the squelching noises to become even louder. He moans and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving small kisses before he chomps down again.

The overstimulation is starting to hit and you cry out, desperately pushing against the ground in hopes of pushing your torso up and off the floor. But that’s not what good toys do. So he growls against your neck and pushes you down, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he fixes his posture.

“No. You’re gonna sit still. Good toys don’t fucking move. I can’t knot you if you’re misbehaving.” As if to prove his point, his other hand digs into your waist, holding you even more still as he rams into you.

Thanks to his thick tip incessantly knocking into your cervix, you don’t process what he says right away. At least, not until you feel an extra mass pushing against your swollen folds. “W-Wait, your knot?!?”

You hear his earrings jingle as he tilts his head and you can almost hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he mocks you. “Yes, my knot. You’re gonna take it inside of this tight. little. cunt. And you’re going to take every last drop of my cum.” You go to disagree but your body reacts on its own, clenching around him and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

“F-Fuck- feels like you do like that idea, baby.” He grits his teeth and starts to focus on sharp thrusts. Once his knot finally breaches your hole, you sob into your arm and bite into it to hold back a scream.

He whines and grinds into you, rubbing against your G-spot roughly as he pushes himself over the edge. You can feel his breath on your neck, heavy and heaving as he pumps you full of his seed. His body shakes with each spurt of cum he releases, and the overwhelming movements are enough to push you over the edge again; the needy grinding from him mixed with the mind-numbing feeling of being overfilled, yet forced to hold every last bit, pushing you towards another orgasm.

“Mmmm… Hold it there, yeah? Keep my pups nice and safe in their new home, and I’ll let you take as many plants as you want. Deal, Little Red?”

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