#(i took up smoking too intensely)

[there-will-be-a-way]

Spent most of the day alone which means I got to experience Emotions™️ and Thoughts™️. Tried to cope with them by focusing on the present. Distracting myself with hobbies and a comfort game. I tried putting my feelings into art and writing. But it didn't help. Ended up getting the shakes and shits. So at midnight I built a joint out of leftover crumbs and stems I found in my box and empty baggies. Got me high enough to stop the shakes.

I've been telling my helper people that my coping techniques don't work anymore. I try. I do what I'm supposed to do but they make this feeling worse. And I don't even know what to name it. The closest I come to describing it is that it feels like someone inside me is scratching and hammering on the walls of my body. Like someone or something inside me tries to scream but the room inside my ribs is sound proof. It's a tension that's alive and crying until its throat is soar. Before smoking that sorry bit of weed I seriously considered overdoasing because I couldn't bear it. I would appreciate it if someone could tell me what to do with this feeling instead of numbing it with substances, but I only get told the skills that have grown to fail me 🙂 Even my therapist said that I have all the skills one could get teached. Why. Aren't they. Working anymore.

[nymphoniah]

smoking out the window 🚬

i cant lie this fic is very self indulgent, but i had to share with y'all hehe <3 basically just smoking with logan, sitting in his lap, and yall end up gettin’ down and FREAKYYY.

pairing: old man!logan x afab!reader

warnings/tags: NSFW (minors DNI, 18+ only), smoking, pet names (bub, baby princess, etc.), old man!logan, boyfriend!logan, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), gagging, hair pulling, cumplay, cum swallowing, skull fucking

you’re seated criss-crossed in front of the fire escape, window cracked slightly ajar. you take a long inhale of your cigarette, letting the smoke sit in your mouth for a second before puffing out the rest through your nose.

your lips pull away from the filter, now tinted pink and slightly shiny from your lip gloss. you look over your shoulder to see logan let out a small chuckle, taking a drag from his cigar. you roll your eyes at him, tapping the end of your cigarette against the ashtray placed between you.

“yknow i already tried cigars… they’re just too big for me”. logan looks at you with a raised brow, a smug smile slowly creeping upon his face. you took a moment to process what you said, and how wrong it sounded out of context.

“hey! get your mind out of the gutter. you know what i mean,” you quipped, quickly taking a puff of your cigarette, playfully exhaling into his face to recant.

logan pays no mind to your games, simply shooing away the smoke with his free hand. “whatever you say bub…” he chuckles out, looking at you with a content smile.

he takes another hit from his cigar before sizing you up with his grim eyes. you were wearing a pair of sleep shorts, short enough to leave no room for imagination, with one of logan's flannels that you messily buttoned up this morning draping over your shoulders.

the domesticity of it all is what riled logan up. seeing you dressed up in his clothes, cuddled up in your small, but cozy, apartment bedroom, seated right in front of the fire exit. considering how hectic his life once was, nothing could compare to this.

“try it one more time, baby,” he requests, his pointer and middle finger signaling to come over to him. you rolled your eyes and reluctantly crawled your way over to him. he taps his lap with both hands, and you cozily fit into the thick embrace of his thighs.

you already know where this is going. he's done it once, and he'll do it again. you pursed your lips, your eyes quickly glancing over at his cigar, then promptly meeting his teasing gaze.

“c’mon, just about half of it is left. finish it with me, yeah?” he says with a sultry tone, tilting his head to the side.

“only cause you asked so nicely.” you replied, pressing your lips to the temple of his forehead, your left hand steadying yourself against his hips before you ruffle up his pointed tufts of hair with your right.

seating yourself back in his lap, you took the cigar from his hand, taking it in your own. you guide his calloused hand to the hem of your sleep shorts, his fingers finding purchase at the waistband, playfully tugging it back, allowing for them to snap back against your hips.

taking a deep puff, you let the smoke linger in your mouth as you would with your cigarette. the flavor was definitely more intense compared to the pack of reds you smoke daily. you immediately felt the buzz from the nicotine as the smoke coated your mouth in an almost oily film.

you're about to deeply inhale until you remember you're not supposed to actually inhale the smoke of the cigar. you catch yourself mid-breath, but you weren't fast enough to stop yourself. the bitter taste of the nicotine floods your throat, causing you to let out an unpleasant cough.

"careful there, princess", he teases you, his firm hand patting your back as you continued to cough. "don't wanna hurt yourself", he says chuckling to himself, finding your discomfort somewhat amusing.

you took a second to compose yourself, then joined in on logan's laughter. you pressed your forehead against his chest, snickering over how foolish you probably looked, choking on your own saliva.

"i told you s'too much!" you retort with a smile, nudging yourself deeper into his chest. you can smell the musk of his cologne mixed with the heady scent of smoke in the air; it was intoxicating how logan ran his fingers through your hair, his hands slowly finding their way to the small of your back.

you gently pull away from him, his arms wrapped around your waist, planting your hips against his, the flesh of your ass feeling his erection forming. a smirk pulls at the corner of your lips as you gently grind against him.

logan lets out a grunt as he feels the blood rush to his dick. peppering kisses along his neck, you slowly make your way up to his jawline. "baby, you're forgettin' something..." you lull, placing the cigar back between his lips.

you admire the way his muscles flex with every movement you make, almost syncopating to the rhythm of your hips. the way he matched your pace was addicting. "yknow..." you trail off, sliding yourself off of his lap, moving to kneel in front of him.

"cigars may be big for me... but there's something bigger that i can handle," you hum as you get on your knees, your figure now slotted between his bulky thighs.

placing your hands on his quads, your fingertips trace figure-eights against his jeans. you take a deep breath and rest your head on the inner of his thighs, your left hand working its way slowly to his crotch.

"you're so needy, bub" he whines out of the corner of his mouth, cigar still between his lips. his breath faltered as your fingers graze over the growing tent in his jeans.

"let me please you, lo. wanna make you feel good," you plead, your eyes looking up at him with an intense lust.

"f-fuck." he stutters as your fingers press harder against his erection "how can i say no to my baby?" he obliges, taking the cigar out of his mouth to light out on the ashtray.

you reach your hand out to grab his arm before he lights out his cigar, your grip on his bicep tightening as he gently tries to pull away from your grasp. "wait," you said hastily, "don't put it out yet".

he raises his eyebrow at your command, but doesn't push it any further. "got something planned, bub?" he asks, leaning back into the couch, manspreading wider.

you nod your head as you work at his belt nimbly, slithering the leather around and off of his waist, metal buckle of the belt clanking silently against the plush carpet that your knees rested on.

as you push his jeans and boxers down, his cock springs out, bouncing back against his stomach. his tip was already red, leaking with precum. you admire the length and girth of his dick as you run your tongue along the underside of his cock.

tracing a vein with your tongue, you move from the base of his cock to his tip. logan moved his hands to cup your face, fighting the urge to push himself down your throat as you continued to tease him slowly. "ah f-fuck," he winces, as you press a wet kiss to his tip.

"quit taking so damn long, princess," he adds, your hot breath tickling him. the lewd sight of his pre mixed with your saliva forming a strand from your bottom lip to his tip made your core pulsate. you pushed your thighs together to alleviate the aching pain you felt.

seductively licking your lips, your mouth finds its way back wrapped around his girthy cock. you slowly ease yourself all the way down him as the tip of your nose presses against his pelvis.

breathing through your nose, your lips make their way up his length, making sure to savor the way his tip rested against your tongue. tracing his slit carefully, you lick up his leaking precum, making sure not to miss a single drop of it.

"fuck yeah-", he hisses out, taking a hit. as he exhales the smoke, he grabs a fist full of your hair, now taking control of your movements. he thrusts into your mouth at a rapid and shallow pace, the slap of skin against skin filling the room.

his unrelenting pace made your pussy throb harder; the way he looked as he stood above you, manhandling you, using you, practically as a fucktoy, made you see stars.

eventually he slowed down his pace, his strokes becoming deeper, more sensual. "still with me, bub?" he asked, his eyes locked with your own as he continued to throatfuck you. "mmmh." you answered, with a fucked-out gaze.

"good," he hummed, loosening his grip on your hair. "gonna need you to be a good girl for me, princess." he gives the temple of your forehead a light kiss, his salt-and-pepper beard tickling your hairline.

a split second after the kiss, he retightens his fist, gripping more of your hair than before, and pushes you down the length of his shaft vigorously. the sudden gesture makes you wince around him.

unable to breathe through your mouth, you gag around him. the walls of your throat squeeze tightly along logan's length, making him wince out in pleasure. unable to control himself, he firmly plants his left hand on the crown of your head, keeping you in place, as his right brings his cigar back to hips lips.

logan takes a long drag from the cigar, tilting his head up towards the ceiling, blowing away the smoke. "stay right there for me, bub... i know y'can do that for me, yeah?" he says with a smirk, keeping his eyes on you.

you grunt in response, breathing heavily through your nose to keep the little composure that you had. still gagging around his cock, your vision began to get blurry as tears began forming.

"shit, im coming-" logan groans out, harshly pumping his cock even further into your throat. with each thrust of his hips, a moan escaped from you, followed along with a gag. the mix of pain and pleasure was intoxicating.

soon after his announcement, you feel the thick ropes of his cum sliding along your esophagus. the heady taste of his cum coats your mouth and lips; the salty and sweet tang grounded you from your mind blanking as he continued to skullfuck you.

it felt like an eternity before logan released you from his firm grasp. you slipped your lips off of him, now resting your head on his thigh. you cough a little bit, and your nose starts to drip.

"still think my dick's too big for you to handle?" he teases, tucking a stray strand of your bangs behind your ear. you shake your head no, flashing him a lazy smile. he brings the cigar to your lips for you to take a hit.

"atta girl."

[goldenstring6123]

hello ! wanted to say i really love your writing style and your stories for the characters ! I wanted to know if you’d write one for Love and deep space Sylus? A scenario where you’re both sleeping but you sneak away quietly to get something from the kitchen or for whatever reason but he stops you with his powers (the handcuffs etc) to bring you back to bed. I’m not sure if i’m making sense but something along those lines! please and thank you!

Sylus: Kitchen Sneaker

Warning: No warning. Fem!reader, domestic fluff (?)

Author's note: This is a fun domestic-ish prompt to write! I hope you like it my dear pookies <3

masterlist | Buy me a thread? |

Sylus was fast asleep beside you.

The man was a light sleeper for the sake of his own safety. According to him, even if the building was as secure as it could be, there were some instances where he woke up with a knife to his throat. However, ever since you began sharing the same bed, he had been sleeping like a log, which was good for him and the twins because they no longer had to deal with his hot head so early in the evening.

But it was bad for you. Simply because Sylus likes to hold you in his sleep. Sometimes his hand would be over your chest, groping your breast or squeezing in between your boobs, but most times, he would be holding your wrist, checking your pulse. How was this bad for you? Well, living alone for most of your adult life, you liked to indulge yourself in a midnight snack or two. With him holding you captive to the bed, his iron grip holding on to you, it was like you had a ball and chain around your body.

You've indulged Sylus for over a week now, but the intense midnight craving is overwhelming.

Tonight, it's food over Sylus. The man can wait. Food cannot.

You scooted his hand very, very, very gently away from your body. This man's hand is heavy and large. Sylus didn't move and continued to sleep peacefully, his exposed chest rising and falling calmly. The room was very cold, and you could even hear the blowing of the AC; it was at that moment that you realized how such small sounds seemed to be so loud at night.

With every step you take, you are holding your breath even more. Even against the carpet, the rustling of your feet seemed like it could stir Sylus awake at any second. Thankfully, you managed to traverse across the room like a spy. You even had to carefully close the door shut.

You used the stairs to get down to the kitchen, and while you were walking in the hallway, the chef was just about to leave, his satchel bag on his shoulder.

He and you made eye contact. You gestured to him to 'shush,' and he laughed.

"There's some leftover dessert and pasta in the fridge—feel free to eat it," he whispered, and you grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Greg is the best chef ever. You tiptoed to the kitchen, waving him goodbye. Your eyes landed on that double-door fridge that was whirring loudly.

Finally! You could taste that delicious panna cotta and aglio olio in your mouth. Your hands wrapped around the handle of the fridge, and as you tugged, the bright blue light of the fridge lit up your face.

You took the plate and settled it on the stainless steel counter. The next one was the small glass filled with chocolate and cream. You marveled at its delicate, savory look. You took a spoon from the nearby utensil holder and dug it into the soft texture, eager to get a taste.

Before it could land between your lips—

A cold whirlwind of black, scentless smoke wrapped around the fork. It flung out of your grasp, and before you could let out a peep, you, too, were flung away from the kitchen counter.

The man let out a grunt, his eyes low-lidded and foggy, clearly just woken up from his slumber.

"Pray tell," he gruffed, his voice an octave lower. "What are you doing in the kitchen? You're supposed to be in bed." Sylus let out a sigh while he brought you closer to him. He glanced behind you and saw the unopened plate of pasta and panna cotta.

"Never mind. You don't need to speak."

"I'm hungry! Don't you know you shouldn't get between a woman and her food?" you exclaimed while tugging at the thing around your exposed waist. You thrashed and thrashed, the straps of your nightshirt sliding down your shoulders. "Put me down and go back to bed! I'll be with you in five—no, fifteen minutes!"

His head was aching from all the noise you were making, and combined with the fact that you were out of bed by the time he woke up—to Sylus, it seemed like you were testing his patience. "Did you not eat enough during dinner time? You know you could've asked for second servings."

"I get midnight cravings on occasion, but when I'm sleeping over, you tend to weigh me down in bed," you explained, flailing your legs, which were a few feet off the ground.

"So, you're blaming me now?" Sylus raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Of course, you were. It wasn't your fault you couldn't get out of bed, and it wasn't your fault that the chef made great food and desserts. He didn't like the look on your face but, regardless, put you down to the floor, his hand tugging your strap over your shoulders. His red eyes glazed over your bare chest, but he turned away, walking to that lonely plate of pasta.

"We're going back to sleep after you have your fill." Sylus unwrapped the plate and took a fork, twirling it and taking a bite. The oily, mild tinge of spiciness and Parmesan helped push him awake. He won't deny that the chef was good at his job—it was even enough for you to sneak out of his bed.

You mounted yourself onto the kitchen island, the cold marble surface cooling the bottom of your thigh. You took the panna cotta, and finally, the creamy and sweet flavor of chocolate and cream exploded in your mouth. Unconsciously, you nodded in approval of the taste.

Quietly, you ate in each other's company, occasionally making small talk. Sylus left the dish in the sink along with the fork, but when he turned to you, your nose was inside the refrigerator again. "Cake roll slice…" you uttered. The strawberry cake roll looked delicious inside the glass container.

Before you could even reach out to it, the smoke appeared at the very same spot, dragging you away from the fridge. Sylus closed the double-door refrigerator and crossed his arms right in front of you. A clear 'no' was plastered all over his face.

You let out a groan as he dragged you away with the smoky black and red rope around your waist.

When you got back to the bedroom, you expected Sylus to go right back to sleep. But instead, the man pulled a handcuff from underneath his pillow. How and why it was, there was a question you didn't want to ask him. Without another word coming out of his mouth, he chained it to himself and took hold of your wrist.

"No. You're not going to—"

He latched the real handcuff around your wrists and laid down on the bed, dragging you with him.

"Sleep."

The lights dimmed and flickered off at his word, and you just lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"I guess this is our bedtime routine now," you sighed.

"Sleep," he reiterated.

You seriously have no idea how you put up with this man.

Author footnotes: I also like to sneak out to the kitchen and eat but instead of sylus, It's my mom who sees me and then i get the clothes hanger beat up for staying up late at night lol.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[itneverendshere]

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[tidetfs]

"Ugh, bro, pleeeeease?"

Max looked at me with those dopey blue eyes of his, staring dully through me and appearing to lack any kind of intelligence or perception.

"I told you, I have a very important club interview," I replied. "This could determine if I can network into a good job after college!" stressing the importance of a job, something my stoner roommate never seemed to understand.

"Just one hit, man, come on! You gotta stop worrying about that stuff and just chill out!" he replied, stretching his muscular arms over his head of greasy (probably unwashed) brown hair and closing his eyes, as if musing about something important. "You gotta try this weed bro, I just, I-" he stuttered as he took another hit. "I don't fuckin' know man, I think you just need this."

Exasperated, I dropped my heavy bag on the floor and strode over to his side of the room, switching to mouth breathing to avoid inhaling too much foot funk from his "clean pile" of clothes, as Max called it. Even three air fresheners weren't enough to keep the pungent smells of weed and sweat at bay.

"What the hell, dude, when's the last time you even washed those?!"

"Oh, I dunno, a couple weeks ago, maybe?" Max replied, shrugging.

I could see some of the dried crust still clinging to the fabric. I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer size of his stash. The pile was easily four feet across, and it was clear Max was still working to roll his way through the rest. I couldn't even imagine where he got it all.

"Look, just let me finish my meeting, then I'll smoke with you, okay?"

Max's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, for real?" he replied, excited. "You promise? Pinky swear?"

Max stuck his hand out, his pinky raised and his arm shaking slightly. He looked like an overgrown child. I was so tired, I didn't even hesitate. I wrapped my pinky around his, then turned to walk out of the room. As soon as I let go, I felt a sudden, powerful wave of euphoria wash over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't even think straight, the sensation was so intense.

I collapsed against the doorway, unable to move. I could barely even think. The only thought that went through my mind was that I'd never felt this good in my life. Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed, like a pleasant static that sent ripples of bliss through my muscles. I couldn't even control the way my body twitched and shivered.

"Duuuude," I heard Max say. "You feel that, man? I told you it's the good stuff."

I didn't know what was happening to me. My heart was racing and I couldn't breathe, and the feeling was getting more and more intense. "What..." I struggled to even sound out words. "I didn't even...take a hit..."

"Well, no, not technically," Max said, laughing. "But, uh, that's not what it was, actually. See, I sorta dosed your pinky."

I looked up at him, confused. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but he was grinning widely, and I could see the outline of his meaty, calloused hands rubbing the front of his jeans.

"See, it's like this, man. That wasn't weed. That was just, you know, a little something to get you to loosen up a bit. And, uh, well, there's this other thing, too. That shit I sprayed on your hand. It's not, uh, not exactly what you think."

The euphoria was fading, but it was still intense, and it was making my brain spin. "You sprayed my...hand?" I mumbled, barely able to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah, bro, I sorta had to, man. You kept getting me down with all your stress." He flexed his big biceps and gave one a kiss. "Now you're gonna be just like me!" He grinned wide, his perfect teeth glinting in the low light.

I couldn't respond. The sensations were still washing over me, but the euphoria was fading. As my brain began to work again, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with me. There was a new, alien weight between my legs.

"Wha-what did you do?" I stammered, still dazed and confused. "What...what did you..."

I looked down, and froze. There was a huge, heavy bulge straining against the crotch of my jeans, stretching the thick material taut. It was huge. Like, absolutely massive. It was easily the size of my fist, maybe even bigger. It was so big and round, I could even see the outline of the individual balls.

"Duuuuude, bro, look at that fucking thing!" Max exclaimed, pointing and laughing. "It's totally fucking huge! Holy shit, man, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen in my life!"

I tried to speak, but I was still so confused, I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

"I didn't know they could get that big, man! Wow, bro, you're really packing a fucking cannon, you know that? Holy shit, it's so fucking hot." Max was practically drooling as he ogled the enormous bulge in my pants.

I could feel the heat radiating off of it, and I could tell it was pulsing and throbbing with each beat of my heart. The sensation was incredibly intense.

"It's...it's not possible..." I stammered, my voice cracking. "What...what did you spray?"

"Bro, I'm telling you, it's totally normal!" Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "My friend from home, he said, well, it's just that..." Max stammered again, his usually peaceful face betraying some shyness. "I've always thought you were cute, even without that package. You just needed to loosen up a little. And, I mean, I just wanted you to be, like, comfortable with me. It was just a little bit, man, and it was totally safe. Like, I swear, it's totally normal, dude." He grinned and shot me a wink. "Soon you're going to be just like me."

Max was still staring at the massive bulge, and I could see the outline of his huge dick stretching the crotch of his jeans.

"Dude, bro, I-" my hand shot to my mouth. I had never used those words in the same sentence before! "I...I didn't mean that!"

"Oh, yeah, dude," Max replied, not even noticing. "It's totally normal, bro. You're just a little high is all."

"High?!" I shouted, exasperated. "This isn't...I'm not...this isn't how people talk!"

Max just shrugged. "Bro, you've always been a nerd, and it's cool, man, I totally get it. But this is a big step forward. You're gonna love this. I swear."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was still trying to process everything that was happening to me, when I heard Max's voice.

"Duuuuuude, check it out, bro," he said, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans. "We're, like, totally packing!"

"I can't..."

"Oh, shit, right. Dude, you gotta feel this."

Max quickly reached down and grabbed the bulge in my pants. As soon as he made contact, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure ripple through me. My body immediately responded to his touch, and I could feel my new cock throb and twitch. I groaned, unable to hold back the sounds.

"Dude, holy shit, bro, it's like, really sensitive or something," Max said, his eyes wide. "Like, really, really fucking sensitive, bro."

"No, it's...not..." I moaned, but I could tell it was a lie. It felt like Max's hand was squeezing my balls, and the pleasure was incredible.

"Fuck, bro, it's, like, really fucking sensitive, dude. Like, fucking, crazy fucking sensitive." Max was practically drooling, and his eyes were glazed over. He was clearly enjoying this a lot.

"Please, stop..."

"Fuck, bro, you're so fucking hard," Max groaned. He started to rub my bulge, and his other hand went to the front of his own jeans. "...and, you're so pretty too. I just don't want to lose you to all those meetings, bro. I want you to be with me."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?"

"I can't hold back anymore, dude, I gotta see your big dick," Max replied, unzipping my jeans and reaching in. He slowly pulled down, and my eyes widened as he revealed the huge, throbbing bulge in my underwear. It was so big, the fabric was stretched tight, and it was already soaked in pre-cum.

"Holy shit, dude, that thing is huge!" Max exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was staring at my huge bulge with a lustful expression, and his long tongue darted out to lick his lips. "It's, like, fucking, massive."

I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. It was easily twice as big as it had been just a few minutes ago. It was still growing, and it was stretching the fabric of my boxer-briefs to the limit. Max began to move closer, scrambling to take off his busted old t-shirt, meaty pecs and perfect washboard abs busting out as he did. He leaned forward, and his massive bicep brushed against my new rock-hard dick.

"Oh, shit, bro, fuck," Max moaned as he leaned in closer. At this point I could almost feel the waves of sweat and weed rolling off his huge body, and my cock was throbbing and leaking, straining against the tight fabric of my underwear.

"You're so hot, dude," Max said, reaching out to grab my huge bulge, wrapping his meaty hand around it. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was strong, squeezing my bulge and causing a fresh burst of pleasure. "You're, like, fucking sexy as hell, man."

"What the hell, bro, no, that's not...that's not right!" I stammered, but Max's words sent a thrill through me. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. "That's not, I'm not a fag!"

"You sure about that, bro?" he asked, giving it a tug and sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. I felt the euphoria return. This time, it was a hundred times more intense.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, leaning my head back. "Bro, it feels so fucking good."

"I know, right? And it's going to feel even better when you're a stoner like me, dude." Max replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, bro, I can't take it, I gotta get naked," Max moaned, frantically undoing his belt and shucking his pants. "I'm so fucking hard, bro, I can't wait to fuck you."

I looked down, and for the first time, got a good look at my new equipment. It was absolutely massive. It was huge and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever seen, and it was still growing. It was 10 inches long, and thicker than a beer can. My balls were huge, too, hanging heavy and swollen between my legs. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensation continued to wash over me, slowly becoming heat as I began to sweat. It felt amazing. I couldn't control myself, I was already starting to moan and groan, and the euphoria was starting to mix with my arousal. My new cock was so sensitive, and the slightest touch made it throb and pulse.

"It's starting!" Max shouted, looking at my side of the room as my clean and organized things started to transform. My desk became cluttered with bongs and pipes, and posters of the periodic table were suddenly replaced by scantily clad men. My clothes started to change, too. My formerly neat shirts were suddenly full of holes and stained with various substances. My shoes were replaced with flip flops and Crocs.

"I can't take it, man, I'm too horny, I need to kiss you, right now," Max moaned, his voice shaking with desperation. "I've been waiting for this day, dude, and I can't hold back any longer."

Before I could protest, Max leaned in and kissed me, his big, thick tongue probing my mouth. The heat was overwhelming, and his kisses were passionate and hungry. His big, rough hands began to explore my body, rubbing and stroking and caressing every inch of me. He broke away from the kiss and buried his face in my neck, licking and nibbling and kissing. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, and I could smell the overpowering funk of stale sweat and reeking weed. It was so powerful I almost didn't notice my feet begin to ache and the pain in my lower back.

"What's...what's happening to me, bro?" I asked, my voice breaking. "I feel...I feel like...fuck, bro, it hurts!"

"You're changing, dude," Max replied, grinning. "It's the weed. You're finally becoming one with the bud."

"Fuck, bro, I can't hold back anymore," Max moaned. He reached down and began to stroke his giant cock, pre-cum pouring from the tip. It was easily 9 inches, and his massive balls were swollen and heavy with greasy, unwashed hair.

My feet continued to ache and burn as they stretched out, becoming bigger and broader. I could feel my bones shifting and rearranging, long tufts of sweaty hair sprouting out of my feet as they morphed into giant, hairy stumps. I couldn't believe it. The changes were getting more and more intense, and it was driving me wild. I felt like I was going to explode.

"I can't take it anymore," Max groaned, his voice a husky growl. " I have to make you mine."

Without hesitation, Max grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pushing me face-first into my mattress. His hands were rough and strong, and he easily manhandled me.

"Holy fuck, dude, your ass, it's..." Max moaned, his voice filled with lust. "It's so fucking huge."

My ass was getting bigger and rounder, and it was stretching the seat of my boxer-briefs to the limits, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain as the fabric gave way and tore, leaving my huge, jiggly, fat, bubble butt exposed.

"I'm so horny, bro" Max moaned, his voice shaky and breathy, as my ass filled with greasy, oily stink, the air thick with the musk of unwashed flesh and reeking, unwashed funk.

"You're so hot, dude. It's so hot that you're getting stoned."

"What? Bro, that's not...wait!"

"Don't worry, dude, you'll get used to it. It's just the weed talking."

"No, wait, bro, you can't..." I moaned again as my legs began to push me taller, my thighs and calves widening and thickening. My feet swelled even more, filling to a size 13, and a sudden rush of heat swept over my body.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot, man," Max groaned, his voice thick with lust, rubbing my new, tick legs as dark, swirly hair began to sprout, quickly becoming matted with the sweat of hours upon hours of mindless smoking.

"Please, bro, stop," I moaned, as my body began to shake. "I can't take it, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum."

"Dude, that's the whole point, bro," Max replied, his voice trembling. "Just relax, and let it happen. It's gonna feel so fucking good."

"It's too much," I moaned, my cock throbbing and pulsing. "It's too intense."

"I know, dude, it's just the weed, bro. It'll feel better after you get used to it. Trust me."

I could feel the hair begin to creep onto my stomach and chest, quickly spreading and covering me in a layer of greasy, foul-smelling, sweaty body hair.

"Dude, are you seriously not feeling this, too?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Bro, I can't take it, please, just stop, it's too much."

"Dude, chill, you're fine," Max replied, flipping me back over and rubbing his hand over my new abs and thickening pecs. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Wait, no, I'm not...fuuuuck!"

The sensation was so intense, it was driving me wild. I could barely even think. My pecs were growing larger and heavier, and my nipples were swelling and darkening, the areolae growing thicker and hairier.

"Fuuuuuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair and giving it a sharp tug, making me moan with pleasure.

My cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum, and I could feel the heat coming from it. My balls were swollen and heavy, and they were aching for release.

"Fuck, dude, I can't take it," Max moaned, his voice filled with desperation, shoving his face into my pit as they began to grow and deepen, quickly filling with rank, musky body odor. As he licked, my arms grew longer and wider, my biceps and triceps growing thicker and bulkier. My forearms became thicker and more defined, and my hands and fingers were getting bigger and beefier.

"Bro, it's so fucking good." Max's voice was muffled by my armpit, and I could feel his tongue lapping up the stale sweat and musk.

My arms were now completely covered in thick, greasy, matted hair, and the same was happening to my back, the swirly pattern spreading like a wildfire. My shoulders were growing larger and rounder, and I could feel the muscles shifting and rearranging.

"Please, dude, don't...I can't..."

"I can't stop, bro, you're so hot," Max moaned, his face buried in my pit. I could smell our odors mixing together as our muscular bodies writhed against each other, slick with sweat and the stinking smell of weed.

I was so turned on.

"You're so hot, bro," Max moaned, his pre-cum leaking all over the place.

"No, bro, what?" I moaned, my voice trembling. "I'm not a faggot."

"That's just the weed, dude," Max replied, his voice low and husky. "You're gonna love it."

"Please, no," I moaned, but I knew he was right. I was so turned on, and the weed was driving me wild as my neck and jaw began to fill out and widen, my Adam's apple growing into a large, meaty knob.

I moaned as my voice deepened, the vibrations reverberating through me, causing me to shiver, my speech becoming permanently relaxed, just like my roommate's.

"Fuck," Max groaned, going in for a slobbery, wet kiss, our body heat generating enough stink to make me gag.

My body was now covered in matted, swirly body hair, and it was growing thicker and greasier, the same thing happening to my chest. I could feel my pecs bulging even more as my face was being smothered in kisses and licks, my nose cracking into a previously-broken shape and the skin becoming rough and scarred.

"Oh, fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot," Max moaned, burying his face in my thick neck, his voice muffled by the hair.

"No, please, bro," I moaned, my voice cracking. "I can't take it, it's too much."

"You can do it, bro, just hold on a little longer," Max replied, his voice shaky.

My tongue grew thicker and longer, and it started to loll out of my mouth, my face cracking into model-level handsomeness. I was so turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore. My balls were throbbing and pulsing, and my cock was throbbing and pulsing.

"I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice deep and slow.

"Do it, bro," Max moaned, his voice trembling. "Do it, cum all over me, bro."

I felt his fingers run across my short hair, sending a shiver down my spine. My body was wracked with pleasure as I felt ropes of rancid, stinking cum shoot from my cock, splattering his chest and stomach. I couldn't control myself, I was moaning and groaning, the intense orgasm rocking my body, my new, masculine frame shaking and quivering.

With each rope, my bright green eyes became dimmer and dimmer, coloring grayer and grayer as all of my worries and stress flowed out of me, and I fell into a state of bliss, my cock still twitching and throbbing as the last change began. My hair grew longer and thicker, until it was a long, shaggy, dirty mess, and a fresh wave of fresh musk rose off me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned, my voice deep and slow, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max moaned, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it, dude. You're, like, totally a stoner now, bro."

"Haha, yeah man...wait bro, haven't I always been?" I looked at myself in the dingy dorm mirror, and realized I looked like a dumb, stoned idiot. My voice was deeper, and my accent was different. My hair was messy and unwashed, and my skin was tanned. My pecs were massive and my abs were rock hard. My cock was huge and throbbing. My feet were hairy and stinky. I had a huge, round, bubble butt.

I laughed a deep, airy chuckle.

"That's right" Max said, staring into my dull eyes. He seemed like the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on until I realized.

"I love you, dude." Max giggled.

"Yeah man, I love you, too" I slurred, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, my tongue probing his mouth, the taste of weed and sweat overwhelming. He returned the favor, and soon, we were a mess of sloppy, stoner kisses, our thick, stubbly chins rubbing together, the sound of slurping and licking filling the room.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I groaned, the kiss ending, both of us breathing heavy and panting, a mixture of spit dripping from our chins. "That was, like, totally amazing, dude."

"Fuck, yeah, bro, it was fucking awesome," Max groaned, his voice trembling. "I've been waiting for this for, like, ever, bro. It's fucking crazy."

"Yeah, dude, totally," I replied, staring at his gorgeous, masculine features. His big, thick arms, his perfect washboard abs, his massive pecs, and his perfect, handsome face. He was fucking hot, and he was all mine.

[rubiehart]

jj is the type to beg you for head, just on his knees absolutely pleading for you to suck his dick

xoxo- 🦢

oh my goshhh.. can i expand by saying this is him when he takes E at a kegger and he’s just uncontrollable.. swan nonnie ily

you and john b had to practically drag jj back to the chateau, he’d taken something he clearly couldn’t handle and he was uncontrollable to say the least, random bursts of energy as john b wrestled him through the door, ignoring his protests to stop being a ‘party pooper’, the door rattling in its frame as jj knocked in with his shoulder, erupting into another fit of uncontrollable laughter as you and john b shared an irritated look. “get inside bro, you have got to sober up.”

you’d managed to pin him to the bed of the guest room, john b excusing himself when he saw jj was getting antsy, he’d had enough and decided you could handle him on your own. “john b get back here now.” you’d mutter sternly, as he just shrugged with a smirk, shutting the door to the bedroom and you heard the soft click of his bedroom door across the hall locking, letting out a defeated huff as jj cracks up at nothing in particular.

“what the fuck did you take?” you say, rubbing at your forehead frustratedly as jj places his hands behind his head, blinking rapidly at the ceiling and sighing. “tell your boobs to stop staring at my eyes.” you look down at him in shock as he laughs. “oh my god..” you sigh, getting off of him, releasing he’s literally hard as a rock underneath you as he groans out.

“please do somethin’..” he pleas, reaching out for you as you sigh. “i’ve never been this fuckin’ hard in my life.. i dunno what i took but i cant do this shit..when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that-” he rambles.

“you’re gonna shut up if i do?” you ask with a sigh and his eyes widen, wondering if you were being serious. “are you kiddin’, or…?” he questions, smirking a little. you shake your head, crawling up to him on the bed and working on his zipper, you hear him breathing heavily and look up at him with a cocked brow. “what? you never had a blowie before?” you ask with a chuckle, working his cargo shorts down his thighs.

“not from a smoke show like you.” he smirks, pulling his waistband down to release his cock and your breath catches in your throat. he was a fucking monster, rock hard and practically pulsing with the intensity, pretty pink tip leaking precum down his shaft, you look up at his face again to catch him tonguing at a fresh cut on his lip, clearly enjoying himself, a little too confident, you thought.

“you’re such a dick.” you mumble, working his shaft with two hands as he throws his head back against the stack of pillows. “hm?” he half moans out through clenched teeth. “please.. put it in your mouth.” he groans out and you feel yourself clench, your panties getting wetter by the second. “needy boy.” you joke, swirling your tongue around his tip. the small touch is like fireworks in his nervous system as he moans like a little bitch at the little kitten licks you were giving him. this was gonna be fun.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗘𝗫𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗢 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and the triplets decide to go out for dinner at a pizzeria, but Y/N is cold and Chris becomes her personal heater.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

WARNING: None.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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"Forget about it!" Chris's voice sounded in a ridiculous Italian accent, catching Y/N's attention, who was a little away from the triplets as she looked at the pizzeria's sign.

The girl turned around, seeing Nick holding the camera with both hands, the lens focusing on Matt and Chris, her own silhouette probably appearing in the background.

Y/N smiled at the brothers' banter as she rubbed her hands together, trying to extract some heat from the friction as she mentally cursed herself for her chosen outfit option.

When the boys came up with the idea of ​​trying a different Texas-style pizzeria that had good reviews online, she felt super excited. Her biggest hobby was discovering new restaurants, so much so that in LA, she took the boys with her at least once a week to have dinner out.

But she completely forgot that she wasn't in LA and that the cold in Texas was intense, reaching 2°C. And that was precisely why she was so angry with herself, having chosen a short dress with a long sleeve that did nothing to warm her arms and left her collarbone exposed, a pair of pantyhose too thin to even be felt against her skin and a pair of high-heeled, short-cut boots that didn't even reach past her heels.

Y/N pressed her legs together as she crossed her arms tightly around her own waist, white smoke leaving her lips with each deep breath. She just hoped the pizzeria had a good heater.

"Yeah, so we're eating pizza..." Nick turned the camera so that the lens framed him too, starting to explain what they were going to do.

Chris turned towards the entrance of the restaurant as he looked for his girlfriend, missing her presence by his side. His eyes found her quickly, a smile stretching across his face, but that was soon replaced by furrowed eyebrows upon seeing her condition.

He walked away from his brothers and took quick steps towards Y/N, placing his hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension in the area, probably due to the cold.

"Shit, you're freezing, baby. I told you to change your clothes." Chris murmured, his voice sounding panickly as he ran his hands up and down the girl's arms, trying to warm her up with the friction between his hands and the thin fabric of her dress sleeve.

Even though his words were scolding, his voice sounded like a wave of heat through Y/N's body. She just shook her head, a whine escaping her throat.

"I forgot it was 2°C." She responded in a weak voice, her teeth chattering as she tried to run her hot tongue over her lips, wanting to warm them up, but to no avail.

"Look, we have a penguin with us today." Nick's voice sounded close to the couple in a playful tone, his hand still holding the camera on as a laugh escaped his lips, the lens catching the two of them and Matt, who was looking at them with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, probably worried about Y/N's situation.

"Texas is so cold." The girl complained, getting closer to Chris looking for more human warmth.

The boy hugged her tightly, the momentary heat penetrating Y/N's sore muscles, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

"Thanks." Her voice was muffled, her face pressed completely against Chris' covered chest.

His arms wrapped around her shoulders so perfectly that their bodies looked like a two-piece puzzle. The human heat that surrounded Chris's body embraced Y/N's one, creating a bubble around the two. A sound of appreciation escaped Chris' lips at the closeness, his hands caressing his girlfriend's cold back.

The boy bent down slightly, bringing his face closer to Y/N's, sealing his lips momentarily on her forehead before running his nose lightly over the sensitive skin, a shiver running through the girl's spine due to the coldness of the tip of his nose.

A few seconds later, Chris realized that his girlfriend was still shivering, slightly moving her away from his body, receiving a sound of complaint in response.

Chris just raised his right hand, silently asking her to wait. He brought his hands to the hem of his black hoodie, pulling it up and removing the piece from his body, the beanie falling from his head with the movement.

Matt bent down, retrieving the beanie as a smile stretched across his face.

"Chris is a true gentleman, guys." Nick started from behind the camera, a smile in his voice. "Don't accept anything less than that." He continued, adjusting the camera's zoom so that it focused on Chris, who was holding the hoodie in his hands. His body now only covered by his baggy jeans and two layers of black turtleneck sweater.

The youngest of the triplets completely ignored him, approaching Y/N, who was watching his movements with wide eyes.

"Babe, no! You'll be cold." She exclaimed, raising her hands trying to stop him.

"My priority is your comfort, gorgeous." Chris returned it, arranging the hoodie in his hands so that he could slip the piece over his girlfriend's head, being careful with her makeup, knowing that if he messed it up, she would be mad.

The boy helped her pass her arms through the respective holes, pulling the hem down and pressing the fabric against her body, trying to warm her up more quickly.

"I loved the style, very aesthetic." Matt commented from the couple's side, letting out a laugh. Chris smiled as he rolled his eyes, wrapping his right arm around Y/N's shoulder, pulling her close, her arms wrapping around his waist.

"Can we eat now? Please?" Nick asked, his voice sounding desperate. He was eager to try the meatballs he'd seen so much of in the reviews.

"This is literally the only time you'll ever see me with chapped lips, I'm in the fucking Tundra right now." Matt spoke quickly as he looked at the camera, his icy hand passing over his lips.

Y/N opened her black purse - which only had a lip gloss and a watermelon Space Camp lip balm - and took out the lip balm, handing it to Matt, who jokingly celebrated before thanking her, opening the package and passing it across his lips.

"Free advertising." Chris's sentence was the last thing the camera captured, besides the others' laughter and the little "go buy Space Camp" comment made by Y/N, before Nick turned it off and they finally entered the pizzeria.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"Chris taking off his hoodie and giving it to Y/N because she was cold 😭"

"it's exactly because of Y/N and Chris that my standards are so high"

"yes Nick, we all know that Chris is a true gentleman 😔"

"can we take a few seconds to admire Y/N's beauty in that outfit? WHAT A WOMAN"

"Matt picking up Chris's beanie off the floor 😭"

"Chris hugging Y/N all worried and shit because she was shivering from the cold 🥺"

"Y/N lending her Space Camp to Matt after he complained about his chapped lips: the biggest advertisement you can have"

"Nick hire Y/N to advertise your brand right now!!!"

"MY PARENTS 😭🧎‍♀️"

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Interstate 40 | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You go into labor. 

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for requesting. xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

! Warning: child birth, blood, pain !! 

You were out at the barn, filling the chickens feed and water when Tyler stormed into the barn. You’re pretty sure you saw smoke coming out of his ears, his face red. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks immediately taking the scoop from you, “you’re supposed to be resting! Doctor’s order!” His eyes are large as he stares at you. 

You wave him off, “Tyler come on, I’ve been doing this the entire pregnancy. Nothing new to me.” You yank the scoop back from him, “I was going stir crazy laying in bed.” 

You were 9 months pregnant, 39 weeks to be exact, ready to go into labor at any time. Your body was ready, but baby Owens had yet to say they were ready just yet. Your doctor had told you to take it easy after a fainting spell. Everything checked out, baby Owens was perfectly healthy and your doctor gave you the green light to head back home and get some rest. 

Tyler had took this very seriously, making you stay in bed, and insisted on waiting on you hand and foot. He’d only left you alone for an hour to run into town to get groceries. 

“What if something happened out here while I was gone? huh? What if you fainted and hit your head or something?” 

You sigh, seeing his point, “I’m sorry.” You frown, “but Tyler, really I was going crazy. I needed to do something.” 

“knit the baby a blanket. Something where you’re not on your feet.” He grabs your shoulders, leading you out the barn. 

“Tyler-” you groan, “you know I don’t know how to knit!” 

“Perfect time to learn then.” 

As the two of you near the porch, you get a cramp in your stomach. It wasn’t too strong, but you noticed it. “ooh.” You clinch your eyes shut, placing a hand on your stomach, and bending over slightly.

“What? Oh god, is it time? See I told you-” 

“Tyler, chill.” You take a deep breath, the pain easing. “I’m sure it’s just Braxton hicks. I’m fine. I’ve been having them every little while.” 

“are they consistent?” 

You shrug, “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t paid too much attention. That’s the first one that's been more intense.” You start up the stairs of the porch. 

“You could be in labor.” Tyler says following you, “We probably need to head to the hospital.” 

“I promise I am not. We’ll know for sure when it's time.” You sigh, taking a seat on the rocking chair. 

“You’ll let me know if they get worse right? You know the nearest hospital is an hour away.” He warns. “You have to let me know in time. I am not delivering our baby on the side of the highway.” 

~ 

“You told me they were Braxton hicks!” He argues. He’s currently speeding down the interstate, swerving in and out of traffic. People are honking left and right. 

You let out a scream, hand gripping his shirt in one hand and the other on the grab handle. 

Tyler screams with you, in full blown panic mode. You were still 45 minutes away from the nearest hospital. Your water had broke a little bit ago and soon after that the contractions began to get more and more intense, and closer in time. Your labor was progressing fast. 

You’re doing your lamaze breathing, trying to stay calm, “I’ve never been in labor before, how was I supposed to know I was actually in labor?!” 

You groan as another wave of a contraction hits, “Tyler something-” You reach down to feel, bringing your hand back up, fingers covered in blood. “S-Something is wrong.” 

Tyler glances at your hand, his heart drops, face going pale. if something happens to you.. or the baby. He’d never forgive himself. He shouldn’t have left. He should have forced you to go to the hospital earlier. His foot goes heavy on the gas, engine revving loudly. 

A new feeling shows itself, “I feel like I need to shit-” Your eyes are wide, staring at Tyler. “Tyler- oh fuck I’m about to have this baby on the side of the god damn interstate, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t panic-” He knew enough from hearing stories to know what that meant. That was the key indicator baby was coming and it was coming NOW. “but yes.” 

“oh my god!” 

He’s immediately pulling the truck to the side, horns blaring as he cuts someone off. He comes to a skidding stop, jumping out of the truck. He’s throwing the door open on your side in a split second. Now it’s him who is calm. He’s rolling up his sleeves, pulling out his phone to call 911. He’s delivered a calf before. Same thing right? 

“I am NOT having this baby in your truck!” Your panicked eyes find his calm ones, shaking your head. “I can wait until the hospital.”

“You have no choice.” He helps you slide out of your pants in the seat, simultaneously telling the 911 dispatcher what’s going on, your location and gathering supplies he needs. Where did this calm, collected Tyler come from? He was panicking only 30 seconds ago. 

You scream, a searing pain felt down below. 

Tyler peeks and sees a head full of hair, his eyes widen, “you definitely can’t wait. baby is coming now. push baby-” 

It only took one push before Tyler caught the baby, laying her on your chest and drying her off with a towel. “it’s a girl!”

Emotions are running high. Tears are being shed. You’d just given birth, Tyler delivering your daughter. Your heart drops; she’s quiet on your chest, “Why isn’t she crying?”

“Come on baby girl-” He finally stimulates her enough and she lets out a loud cry. It triggers more tears from both you and Tyler. A sigh of relief. 

Tyler’s kissing you through the tears, “You did so great baby.” A proud smile on his lips as he stares at his two girls. He cups your face in his hands, “That was fucking amazing.” 

~

The EMS showed up not long after, checking over you and the baby. Both healthy. They get you on the stretcher, your baby girl wrapped in a blanket in your arms. As the emotions of your baby being earth side, the reality hits you. You gasp, “Tyler.” You cover your mouth in shock. 

“Hmm?” He hums, looking up from your daughter. 

“I just gave birth to our daughter in your truck on the side of the interstate.”  

He chuckles, “Yeah you did. That was more bad ass than getting caught in the middle of a tornado.” 

~ 

Don’t know how I feel about this one. I had a whole vision but writing it out proved to be difficult. 

Comments, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

[jeonhardcore]

Inside The Rolls Royce

A Forbidden Rainy Night •JJK ONESHOT

Jungkook x Yn

warning: Highly Explicit 21+ Detailed Smut

Contains : Extreme filthy/dirty talk, cowgirl, missionary, fingering, oral, cowgirl, all four, heated sucking, deep penetration, creampie, unprotected, possessive, consensual.

Word Count : 3.9k

Author Note : get ready to get drenched<3

It was raining heavily on the streets of Seoul. The sleek black Rolls-Royce glided along the Seoul highway in the night. Each raindrop over its polished exterior enhances the allure of its flawless curves.

Inside The Rolls Royce, Jeon Jungkook's grip on the wheel was strong, his knuckles strained against the wheel. With each twist and turns, his hands moved with frustration.

His dark burning gaze fixed ahead, jaw clenched with a force that mirrored the intensity of his inner turmoil.

"Jungkook, stop it! You're overreacting!" Yn's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere inside the car. Desperation laced her tone as she reached out to hold Jungkook's hand

"Jungkook slow down, what are you doing?!" Her voice was a desperate plea, barely audible over the roar of the engine.

"You know exactly what I'm doing,"

Jungkook's tone was low and dangerous as Jungkook paid her no heed, his frustration boiling as he pushed the car to its limits. "You danced with him," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You let him touch you."

It was just a dance, Jungkook," she protested, "It didn't mean anything."

Jungkook's grip on the wheel tightened, "It means everything to me," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a primal intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Jungkook, please," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you."

The car stopped to a sudden halt, jolting both Jungkook and Yn forward in their seats. With a forceful exhale, Jungkook leaned back, his veins visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt.

The air inside the car grew thick with tension as he took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the rain-drenched road outside.

Yn sat beside him, too stunned to speak, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

She watched in silence as Jungkook leaned against the seat and with a sharp exhale, he placed a cigarette between his lips, his jaw clenching as he held it there.

He flicked open his lighter with a snap, his movements were quick, He brought it to the cigarette’s tip and then lit the cigarette.

Holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, he took a deep drag, the cigarette crackling as he inhaled sharply. Smoke filled his lungs, a bitter release for the storm brewing inside him. He exhaled forcefully, the frustration etched in every tense muscle as he took another angry pull, the ember flaring brightly as he inhaled deeply.

Yn tried to speak, “j-jungkook?” her voice trembled with emotion, but Jungkook remained silent, lost in the haze of smoke and rain.

Desperate to break the suffocating silence, Yn reached out to him, but before she could utter another word, Jungkook stepped out of the car, his frustration palpable in the way he slammed the door behind him.

Outside, the rain fell in sheets, soaking Jungkook as he closed his eyes, letting the cool water wash away the heat of his anger.

Yn wasted no time in following him, her own body soon drenched as she stood infront him,

"Jungkook, please listen to me," her voice barely audible above the sound of the rain. "Let's talk about this."

But Jungkook remained silent, his gaze fixed on the road and he continued smoking. Yn's heart ached at the sight of him.

"Please, Jungkook," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper "Look at me."

But Jungkook remained unmoved.

"My love, listen to me I'm so-," she urged, her voice growing more insistent as she reached out to him, her fingers gripping his collar in desperate for his attention.

But before she could say another word, Jungkook's lips crashed into hers with an intensity that stole her breath away. Caught off guard by his sudden passion, Yn melted into his embrace, her body trembling with a mixture of desire and relief.

The moment Jungkook’s lips met Yn's, it was as if the storm outside had found its match within them. As their lips pressed together more firmly, the kiss deepened, transforming from a tentative connection to a consuming fire.

Jungkook’s hands travelling at her sides, found their place on Yn’s waist, fingers gripping her firmly. The rain poured down, soaking them both, but neither seemed to notice. The heat of their breath mingled in the cool, rainy air.

Yn’s hands slid up to Jungkook’s neck, her fingers gripping through his wet hair, pulling him closer, urging him to give in to the raw passion. lips parting and tongues meeting in a clash of desire. His mouth moving against hers with a hunger that spoke of frustration, anger, and an unspoken need.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. She could see the fire in his gaze.

"I want you," Jungkook's voice was low and rough, each word dripping with raw desire. "Here, right now.”

Yn's breath hitched, her heart racing as she swallowed hard, before she could respond, Jungkook's tattooed hand was around her wrist, pulling her with a sudden force.

In a blink, they were inside the back of the car, the door slamming shut that cut through the noise of the storm.

With a speedy movement, Jungkook placed Yn on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. Their lips met.

Yn’s fingers tangled in his wet hair, her grip was tight.

Jungkook’s hands roamed over her body, one cupping her breast through the fabric of her dress. The other hand gripped her waist, fingers pressing into her skin as he drew her closer, moulding her to him with a possessive fervour. A moan escaped Yn’s lips, muffled by the heat of their kiss.

Yn’s grip on Jungkook’s hair tightened, as she kissed him back with equal intensity.

Jungkook broke the kiss, his voice a husky whisper against her lips, "𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬."

Without hesitation, Yn leaned in, her kiss more forceful, her mouth moving with a newfound hunger. Their breaths mingled, heavy and ragged.

In a swift motion Jungkook’s hands moved to the zipper of her black dress, his fingers unzipping it from behind.

Yn’s dress slipped from her shoulders, the fabric parting like a veil to reveal the soft, delicate, bare skin. Jungkook’s hands moved with a possessive grace, exploring every inch of her exposed body as he admired her beauty.

Within seconds, Yn found herself only in her innerwear, the bra clinging to her breasts as she broke the passionate kiss, tracing a path to Jungkook's earlobe.

Her lips brushing against his earlobe with feather-light licks, she teased his metal hoop earrings with delicate licks before gently sucking on them, sending shivers down his spine.

A low moan escaped Jungkook's lips, a silent plea for more as he leaned into her touch.

Suddenly, Yn's lips parted, making a sloppy sound as she began to suck on Jungkook's earlobe more intensely. His grip on her tightened,

Jungkook's lips with a soft, almost possessive kiss found a weak spot on her neck. Jungkook's teeth leave behind red marks all over her neck.

With desire blazing in her eyes, Yn met Jungkook's gaze, "𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞," she pleaded, her words laced with longing as she locked eyes with him.

Without wasting a single precious moment, Jungkook's hands moved with purpose, swiftly removing Yn's innerwear, revealing her completely naked.

He guided her gently, laying her down halfway across the backseat of the car.

As Jungkook lowered himself, his fingers tracing patterns across her skin as he worshipped every inch of her body.

Yn lay before Jungkook, her eyes reflecting an intense need.

Sensing her desire, Jungkook positioned himself between her parted legs, his gaze travelling the curve of her lower body.

Yn voiced her deepest desires. "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞," she whispered.

But Jungkook held back his eyes with a mixture of desire and control. "Not so soon, baby," he murmured, his voice a low growl.

With deliberate slowness, Jungkook's fingers trailed a path of fire along the fabric of Yn's lace panties. Gripping it, teasing and playing with it across her heated skin. As he made contact with her flesh over the fabric, a gasp escaped Yn's lips, her body arching for his touch.

A smirk tugged at Jungkook's lips as he felt the evidence of her arousal, the slickness of her desire coating his fingertips. "𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐭, 𝐡𝐮𝐧?!" he remarked, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to caress her, rubbing slowly over the soaked panties.

In that moment, Yn could do nothing but surrender to the sensation of pleasure, her body aching for him to touch there

As Jungkook's fingers continued their exploration, The slick, wet friction between his fingertips and her heated flesh sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her.

Her thick like jelly juice coated his fingers, creating an intoxicating wet sound that echoed in the car.

Yn's moans grew louder,

"𝐎𝐡𝐡, 𝐉-𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤," she moaned, her words melting into the air like a whispered

With a hunger, Jungkook met her gaze,

his eyes dark with desire as he asked, "𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐮𝐧?" his voice a seductive whisper

"𝐲𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐬" yn gasped

Without hesitation, Yn's response was immediate, she locked eyes with him,

But Jungkook, the master of temptation, wasn't finished yet.

With a devilish glint in his eyes, he issued his challenge, "𝐁𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭," he commanded.

His words are a mixture of desire and dominance. "𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭."

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤," Yn whispered, her voice thick with passion and longing. "𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲."

"𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬," Jungkook replied, he obeyed, tearing apart her lace panties aggressively. Now she lay completely naked in front of him, exposed and vulnerable, with nothing left to cover her.

Jungkook began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the tattoos that adorned his arm, now fully visible. Yn couldn’t help but admire the artistry etched into his skin, captivated by every detail.

Throwing away his shirt, with a hunger Jungkook leaned in, his lips parting to envelop her most sensitive area

As Yn's moans mingled with the air as soon as Jungkook's lips touched her intimate part, her fingers entwined in Jungkook's hair, urging and pulling him closer.

As Jungkook began to lick, with each lick of his tongue, Jungkook sucked deeper into her folds, exploring every corner as he felt her wet juices cascade over him like a wave, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His jawline, his nose, his lips making contact with her sensitive flesh. His tongue moved in and out on her flesh, creating sloppy sounds. He could feel her arousal intensifying. He started suck her in a circular motion.

And as Jungkook looked up, he felt a surge of pride wash over him. "𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?" He teased while sucking on her.

Yn's lips parted in ecstasy, her moans of pleasure mingling with the rhythm of her restless breathing,

Jungkook's relentless assault continued as he inserted a finger inside her folds with deliberate ease.

A sharp gasp escaping Yn's lips as Jungkook's finger found her sensitive

G-spot. He started circling that spot intensely while continuing sucking with tongue and moving his finger deep inside. his movements were skilled

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠... 𝐎𝐡, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐞𝐬!" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for more.

He sucked on her clit, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving her wild with sensation.

"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞," he said between licks, his voice rough with desire.

His finger moving with a wild abandon

Suddenly, there was another finger, sliding inside her with a delicious friction that made her cry out in ecstasy.

Her body shook with the intensity of it, her grip on his hair tightened.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐎𝐡, 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐲𝐞𝐬! 𝐲𝐞𝐬!" she moaned, her words a mantra of desire as Jungkook drove her closer to the edge.

Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more, craving more.

𝐀𝐡𝐡𝐡𝐠𝐠𝐠!!! 𝐎𝐡𝐡𝐡 𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬!! Yn's breaths quickened, her body on the edge of release as the climax surged within her.

"𝐈-𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤," she gasped, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Yet, Jungkook, consumed by desire, wasn't prepared to let her surrender just yet.

With a low growl, he silenced her, his need. "𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞,"

In a swift motion, he unzipped his pants & freed himself from the confines of his pants and boxers.

His hard arousal thick and throbbing with need, aching to be buried deep inside her warmth.

Every vein stood out against his manhood. the length of his shaft, as if yearning to be touched, to be caressed by the hands of his lover.

Yn couldn't help but marvel at the sight before her. Jungkook's hard cock glistened with the promise of wild pleasure, the tip so red, swollen and eager, begging to get inside her warmth.

The veins of his hardness were clearly visible, pulsing with intensity.

With a firm grip, he pulled Yn onto his lap, her thighs around his hips,

"𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲," he moaned, his voice thick with desire as he locked gazes with her, his eyes burning with intensity.

Yn's hand grabbed his shoulder as she slowly lowered herself onto him, Jungkook watched, his breath hitching in his throat, as her silken wet core tried to take his large length inside.

"𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭," he teased, a smirk gracing his lips

With a sudden forceful thrust, he buried himself deep within her,

A cry of pleasure from Yn's lips. "𝐎𝐡, 𝐉𝐤!!!" she shouted with pleasure.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠," Jungkook urged, his own moans mingling with hers.

Jungkook watched how his hard member was disappearing inside Yn, a pleasurable satisfaction coursing through him.

His grip tightened on her waist, guiding her movements.

while his other hand cupped her breast. With a hunger of desire, he began to suck on her breast, his bite eliciting a gasp from Yn's lips.

As she held her own hair in excitement, Yn rode him passionately.

Jungkook marvelled at her rhythm, he kept looking at the way she was bouncing along with her round shaped breasts upon him. The sight was mesmerising.

He started slapping her breasts. With each slap on her breast, Yn cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, her body responding to the dual sensations. Yet, she continued her movements, driven by need for release.

His hands gripped her waist possessively,

As he began to suck on her boobs, her nipples and his bites elicited gasps of pleasure from Y/N's lips. With eager anticipation, she held onto

"𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡," he moaned, his voice a husky whisper

Encouraged by his words, Yn pressed on, her movements growing more fast with each passing moment. Jungkook added another slap to her breast.

As Yn's breaths came in ragged gasps, Jungkook made a sudden move.

He pulled back, his cock sliding away from her heated core, leaving Yn in a state of desperation

"𝐖𝐡𝐲?" she gasped, mixture of frustration and need, eyes wide and pleading "𝐰𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞,"

Her voice broke into a desperate plea, "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝," she cried in frustration

"𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety promise of the pleasure to come. "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭."

With a swift move Jungkook turned Yn around, positioning her so that her back was facing him. Her knees into the plush seat beneath her, her body arching slightly.

With a deliberate, teasing motion, He grabbed his throbbing, hard length,

rubbing the tip against her wet, swollen womanhood entrance.

The heat and hardness of him is a contrast to the softness of her silky juicy flesh.

He watched and felt her arousal dripping against her wet flesh, the slickness clinging to his length l

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?” he asked, pressing his length against her, the sensation electric.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮?”

A satisfied smile curved Jungkook’s lips as he continued to tease her,

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞? 𝐇𝐮𝐡?" Jungkook's voice was a husky whisper,

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐬!" she finally cried out, her voice a mixture of desperation and desire, her body trembling with need

But Jungkook wasn't satisfied

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 '𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐬'?" he demanded, his voice a seductive growl as he slapped on her ass.

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞," Yn confessed,

And with that admission, Jungkook chuckled softly. Without hesitation, he seized the moment, plunging deep inside her with a single, powerful thrust from behind.

As Jungkook continued his wild movements inside her, he aggressively moved in and out, each thrust delving deeper into her.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!" she pleaded, her voice a melodic chorus of desire

"𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!"she cried out,

With a firm grip on her hair and the other hand pressing firmly against her breast from behind, Jungkook pressed hard on her nipples.

"𝐎𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞," Jungkook moaned, his voice a husky whisper as their bodies moved in perfect harmony,

"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤." He growled

"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭," he whispered huskily, his fingers tracing the contours of her body.

𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 he added, his breath hot against her skin

Yn’s breath caught in her throat, her body responding to his words with a trembling sigh.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬," she whispered, her voice a mix of longing and surrender. "𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤.”

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?" He growled

"𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬?"

he teased, his words a seductive invitation to surrender to the overwhelming pleasure that awaited her.

Jungkook's grip on her waist tightened as he began to fuck her wildly.

But suddenly he teased her with a slower pace, Yns response was immediate.

"𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐨! 𝐃𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫," she pleaded, her body craving the intensity of their connection.

Jungkook relished in her desperation, his own arousal reaching new heights as he continued.

"𝐌𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐫��𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐮𝐧?" he teased, punctuating his words with a sharp slap to her back before thrusting wildly again.

"𝐎𝐡𝐡, 𝐘𝐞𝐬!𝐘𝐞𝐬!𝐘𝐞𝐬! 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!" Yn moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and longing as Jungkook started to move faster

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝!" she cried out, her body trembling with anticipation.

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩, 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩!" she begged, her words a desperate plea for release.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞," Jungkook promised, his voice a husky whisper as he continued

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐎𝐡! 𝐡𝐡𝐡! Yn screamed with pleasure.

And with a violent move, he turned her around to face him,

With a commanding motion, Jungkook placed both of Yn's legs onto his shoulders, gripping them tightly. Her body arching upwards in response to the shift in position. She wasn't prepared for this sudden move.

The new angle allowed him to plunge deep inside her, each thrust carrying a forceful intensity that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞."

Yn moaned as her body trembled under him "Jungkook," she gasped, her voice a heady mix of need and pleasure, "𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐎𝐡, 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩."

Jungkook’s grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he increased the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝"?

"𝐘𝐞𝐬," Yn cried,

"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬." Yn screamed with pleasure

With a wicked smile, Jungkook leaned in closer, the new angle driving him even deeper inside her, he continued, his voice a husky whisper against her ear.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫."

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞," Yn whimpered

"𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝. 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞"

"𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭." he growled, his voice a possessive, guttural rasp.

“𝐎𝐡, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐞𝐬! 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦!!!” 𝐘𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝. her voice a mix of urgency and raw desire, her body quivering with the imminent release.

“𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐨𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡! 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩!”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he watched her unravel beneath him.

“𝐎𝐡𝐡! 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟 𝐮 𝐜 𝐤” 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞” Yn moaned

“𝐎𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲” Jungkook growled

“𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬!!! 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐎𝐡, 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞!” Yn screams as he hits her every spot inside. building a powerful release.

Yn’s hands moved to cup her own breasts, she took Jungkook’s hand and pressed it, digging it into her soft nipples with a mixture of urgency and pleasure

“𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞” yn pleaded and he obeyed, pressing her nipples hard in between his fingers.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she bit down on her lower lip, a moan escaping as the sensation coursed through her, intensifying the heat pooling in her core.

With a voice thick with lust and a desperate edge, she cried out, “𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐨𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐝!”

Each thrust from Jungkook drove her higher, her fingers tightening around her breasts as she moaned louder, her voice breaking into a frenzied chorus of pleasure.

“𝐎𝐡𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤,” she cried, her back arching off the seat, her body quaking with the intensity of her desire.

𝐈’𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟 𝐮 𝐜 𝐤 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠!” she screamed, her cries of pleasure echoing through the car as she convulsed around him, her release crashing over her in a wave of intense ecstasy.

"𝐂𝐮𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠" Jungkook growled

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his body shuddering as he reached his peak.

"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤,here it comes," he groaned, his voice hoarse with intensity. "𝐎𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.”

He sent them both over the edge, the explosive release of their shared passion filling the air with pleasure. The throbbing heat of his arousal spilling inside her. his climax exploding inside her with a loud rush of sensation.

As they trembled in the aftermath of their release, Jungkook held her close, their bodies entwined as they shared a tender lipkiss.

he whispered softly,

"You're mine, only mine."

All RIGHTS RESERVED BY ME

Don't remake/repost/

my wattpad -mashbiefics

[mangosrar]

call it closure

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

long asf. smut. filth. sexy chris 😛😛😛

your relationship with chris had always been complicated, a will they wont they sort of thing. you both loved eachother, that was obvious, yes you were his, but he wasnt yours.

you both decided friends with benefits would be the best option. well for him. part of you agreed just so you could play pretend, trick yourself into thinking you had him, and you knew nothing lasted forever, but he fooled you for a while.

everyone knew chris had major commitment issues, but you just didnt understand. he treated you like the only girl ever behind closed doors, but the second anyone else was around, he would drop your hand.

you thought this would be fine, you had him, you had him to yourself and that was all that mattered. until you realised you didnt. he had you eating out the palm of his hand on complete puppet strings. he said jump and you asked how high. you had fallen down a dangerous rabbit hole, and the only way to escape was to drive a knife straight through the heart of whatever it was you and chris had.

flashback.

the house was the quietest youve ever heard it. matt and nick were out so chris had invited you over to smoke with him but you were pretty sure he had over done it because he had gone completely none verbal and just started staring at the wall. he was slouched down on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table and his hands in his lap. you were too, slouched down on the couch with your knees up. he took a deep breath in before breaking the silence.

"do you think were soulmates in every universe?" he said. not moving his eyes from the spot on the wall. you could have cried right there and then, feeling a deep aching pain bloom in your chest from his words. you hated how he was so absentmindedly killing you.

there was an abundant pause and a thick tension gathered in the air, you wondered if chris could feel it too.

"are we even soulmates in this one?" your voice was so quiet and soft you weren’t sure he even heard you, until he let out a frustrated sigh before bringing a hand up to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"come on y/n dont start this shit now" his voice was harsh. he kept his eyes closed waiting for you to drop it, like you did every time, but you werent sure how much longer you could carry on like this.

"what chris? im being serious, i dont even know what this is anymore, you treat me like im everything one minute and then act like you couldnt care less is i fucking live or die the next!" you let your feet fall and land on the floor as you sat up and turned to face him.

"you know thats not true" he took his hand off of his face and let it rest in the air. his eyes still closed.

"do i?" your voice was quiet and broken. this was draining. the heavy presence of the fact he wasnt truly yours was sucking the life out of you. he opened his eyes and looked at you.

"we both agreed to do this y/n you cant put all of this on me" he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and staring at you intensely.

there was a pregnant pause, he was waiting for you to defend yourself, or at least try to argue his point, but you couldnt, he was right, to a certain degree. yes you had both agreed to friends with benefits but you hadnt agreed to being hopelessly in love with someone who only reciprocated those feelings in the dark.

you dropped yours eyes, tearing them away from his and letting them linger on his hands before taking a deep breath in.

"i cant carry on like this, its killing me." he tried to cut you off momentarily but you held a hand up, stopping him. "i wont beg for you to love me anymore chris, because i know that somewhere deep down you really do". he said nothing as he stared at you. he was completely speechless. he felt that pain, just like you did, deep in his bones. you searched his eyes for something, anything, a sign that you were lying and just embarrassing yourself, a sign that told you he wasnt at all affected by this, any sense of doubt. you found nothing.

and with that, you left. you got up and walked out of that house, leaving chris to sit there and regret every singe life decision that had got him to this point, but he didnt come after you, he didnt try to stop you, he didnt try to change your mind and thats what stung the most.

end of flashback.

"im going to pack the car so everyone bring your bags down!" chris shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

you pulled the zipper closed on the bag before taking your phone off the bed and making your way downstairs, nick following close behind you. you didnt even look up at chris. you couldnt, you wanted to take complete advantage of the short amount of time you had left to distance yourself from him as much as possible.

it had been about 3 months since you walked out on chris, you hadnt spoke at all, he hadnt tried and neither had you, both of you just accepting fate and trying to move on, but considering the fact his two brothers were your best friends and you practically lived at their house with how much you were over, it was proving to be quite the challenge.

you just politely dropped your bag at his feet and scurried off into the kitchen, bumping into matt.

"you want me to drive the first or second half?" you asked. considering you were the only two that could drive, you insisted you would split it.

"i dont mind but, you sure you wanna have to sit next to chris for that long?" he lowered his voice slightly, his eyes darting to chris who was grabbing all the bags behind you, as his face scrunched up slightly. you glanced over your shoulder at him briefly before crossing your arms over your chest and shrugging.

"its okay, he wont talk to me anyways" you let out a pathetic laugh through your nose, trying to make the situation a little light hearted and a lot less embarrassing. matt obviously picked up on this but was kind enough to ignore it.

"ill do the first half, he will probably fall asleep by the time we swap anyway" he patted your shoulder and you nodded as he made a bee line for the front door.

matt and nick were probably the worst part of this whole situation. they were stuck smack bang in the middle of this pandemonium. of course they both knew what had happened but they gave you the courtesy of separating you and chris with you and them and decided to move past it. you and chris were both aware of how awkward it was for them, and thankfully, he was mature enough to not kick up a big fuss every time you were around. you hadnt spoken at all since that night, only the odd flash of a smile sent each others way when you crossed paths and that was rare, so when nick invited you on their weekend get away to a cabin in the middle of no where with them, you were obviously delighted.

the drive was excruciating. if it wasnt matt and nick arguing it was chriss shitty trap music playing or the gps redirecting you. while you were driving up front chris hadnt even spared you a glance, he didnt utter a single word to you the whole time.

part of you was grateful but another part of you wished he would have, selfishly, so you could just get over it and enjoy your weekend, but nothing was enjoyable anymore as long as chris was around.

"i call the double bed" chris yelled, running through the house.

"y/n theres a room with two singles, wanna bunk with me?" nick asked, slipping his backpack off of his shoulders.

"sure" you nodded, before making your way to the room, setting your bag down and plopping on the bed with a huff, matt trailed in behind you, with your suitcase.

"come on grouchy pants, were gonna have funnnn" he said swatting your leg that was dangling off the edge of the bed.

"i need at least 3-5 business days to recover from being within a 1 mile radius of chris for longer than 30 seconds" you let out a breath as you looked over to matt who was leaning on the door frame with his arms folded over his chest.

"that bad?" he raised his eyebrows in question.

"that bad" you replied flatley. matt just chuckled and motioned for you to follow him downstairs. you huffed and sat up before stomping down the hall after him.

in all fairness, it hadnt been that bad. the 4 of you had eaten, laughed played games and just had fun, regardless of the hanging tension wedged between you and chris. it was now 11:30 and everyone was asleep, but your mind just couldnt switch off, tossing and turning, checking the clock every 5 minutes. you huffed and looked over at nick who was out like a light. hot tub it is.

"i dont know madi, it just hurts" you spoke.

"has he even tried to talk to you?" she spoke over the phone.

"not one single word, and the thing is i dont know if i wanna strangle him or just kiss his fucking face off" you huffed, readjusting your arms so they were resting on the edge of the hot tub with your phone in your hands, the rest of your body being engulfed by the warm blanket of water.

"im worried my advice is gonna get you in trouble" she laughed, making you blow out a huff of air through your nose.

"it doesnt matter, i cant bring myself to do either" you and madi spoke for a little while longer beofre you wrapped the call up, put your phone on the ground and let your body sink lower into the steaming water until it was resting on your collar bones.

you sighed and let your head fall back, this is what you needed, a relaxing moment, the quiet calm of the night lulling your brain into a state of tranquillity, no matt and nick arguing, no chr-

"cant sleep?" you almost had a heart attack, your body jolted forward as your eyes darted around searching for the body that owned the voice.

"jesus, chris you scared the life out of me, how long have you been sitting there?" your hand rested on your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart from being startled. he just stared at you with drooped eyes from his position on the patio chair, opposite the hot tub.

"long enough" he said. his face didnt show any sign of emotion. his stoic expression sending an un willing chill up your spine, despite the warmth of the chlorine filled bubbles around you. chris leaned forward and you swallowed thickly.

"did you mean what you said?" his voice was alot softer and quieter than before, like he was worried you would break at the slight tone of his voice. you couldnt bring your self to look back up at him, he would eat you alive. you paused momentarily, weighing out your options of whether you even wanted to entertain this conversation with him or just cut him dead.

there was no way in hell that you were letting yourself fall back down this slippery slope again, so just like before, you abruptly got up and out of the hot tub, reached for your towel and made your way back inside, without sparing him a glance, keeping your eyes trained to the floor, leaving chris once again, to watch you walk away from him, and all the same, he didnt try to stop you.

"nick open the fucking door!" you whispered loudly. no reply.

resting your forehead against the door, you mentally cursed yourself for even going in the hot tub. you should have stayed in bed and this whole situation would be avoided, chris too. speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"what are you doing?" he stood just beside you with a questioning look on his face.

you huffed, pulling your head back and looking up at him.

"nick locked the door" you sounded so defeated it made his heart beat a little harder in his chest.

"you can come sleep with me, ill take the floor i dont mind" he motioned his head towards his designated bedroom while keeping his eyes trained to yours.

you dropped your head and sighed. how was this happening. you had spent months walking on egg shells, doing everything in your power to stay as far away from him as you could, and now you were forcing him out of his bed so you could sleep there.

he stared at you waiting for your answer. he knew you had no other option, you couldnt sleep on the couch with matt and you were also stood in a wet bikini and a wet towel. be realistic y/n.

"sure, okay" you looked up at him, and his eyes gained a fraction of hope momentarily, before he nodded and started leading you to his room. this was going to be a long night.

"um, i dont.." you paused and cleared your throat. "i dont have anything to wear" chris looked up at you from his position on the bed before his eyes trailed over your body, stood in a towel in the bathroom doorway shifting on your feet, looking like a nervous little girl.

you cleared your throat again, snapping chris out of whatever trance he had gotten into. he stood up and walked over to the dresser at the end of the bed, pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers, before padding over to you and handing them over.

"thanks" you smiled.

"no problem" he replied, watching you turn back into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face and leaning against it, you werent sure if this was going to work, your left control was wearing thin.

how had it ended up like this? you tried so hard to have some composure but you couldnt help it, he was shirtless, clad in grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, basically inviting you to jump straight on him.

his lips trailed down your neck as his hands ran up your sides, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his after 3 months of complete torture without it.

he brought his lips back up to meet your in a hot and heavy kiss, tongues dancing together, teeth clashing, the works. frantic hands gripping his hair relentlessly, pulling groans from his mouth.

chris brought his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and separating the kiss, before diving back in and sucking purple marks into your neck and collarbones, earning breathy whines from you.

there was a moment of hesitation from you as he trailed his hands lower fiddling with the waistband of his boxers that you were wearing.

"chris wait" he halted his movements and brought his face up to yours. god he was making this so hard. he was breathing heavy and his hair was messy from your curious hands, his chain dangling between the two of you.

"we shouldnt be doing this" you shook your head, eyes wide.

"why y/n?" he asked breathlessly.

"because chris" you whined. he knew exactly why. all your hard work of keeping your distance from him had just been thrown into a sweltering ball of gasoline and chris had completely set it alight.

"call it closure" he whispered. he could see the inner turmoil you were facing. you knew you were about to give in, and judging by the smirk growing on his face, so did he.

you pulled his face down to yours again and he hummed into the kiss, the feeling of your lips on his being something no drug could ever amount to.

he continues his trail down your body, leaving wet hot kisses in his trail, keeping his eyes glued to yours. he was dragging this out, savouring the blaze of your touch.

"chris please" you whined.

"what baby? tell me what you want" he spoke in-between leaving kisses on your stomach and thighs.

"just fuck me" that was all he needed to hear before he was yanking your shorts down and doing the same with his own pants and boxers. he was on his knees between your legs, pumping his cock in his hand, eyes wondering over your frame hungrily.

"so pretty" he muttered before brining his lips to yours again and pushing his cock into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size before he was pulling all the way out and slamming back in over and over again. you were already a mess underneath him, mewling and moaning like you would never get the chance again.

"missed you so much baby, so fucking much" chris grunted in-between thrusts before peppering light kisses down the side of your face and neck. you just whined at his words.

his pace was relentless and your hands flew to his back, dragging your nails down his skin, pulling a low "fuck" from chriss lips.

"so good to me y/n, cant believe i ever fucking let you go" he said as he stilled his thrusts and pulled back, sitting on his knees and lifting your legs up to rest on his shoulders, and continuing his thrusts.

you let out a lewd moan at the new angle, hands gripping the bed sheets as chris arms wrapped around your thighs, drilling his cock into you so deep, hitting that spot inside that made you see stars.

"oh fuck chris dont stop" you mewled, letting your head fall back.

his pace became impossibly faster, every single thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.

you were pulsating around him, your high getting closer and closer. chris dropped your legs and doubled over, shoving his head into the crook of your neck with a deep groan.

"fuck y/n i can feel you squeezing me" his words were strangled and breathless. he brought his lips to yours once again but the pleasure was so good and you were so close you couldnt keep up with him, chris noticed this and smirked against your mouth.

"come on sweet girl, give it to me, come all over my cock" he said as he brought his thumb down to rub hard, fast circles over your puffy clit making your back arch even further off the bed.

you let out a strangled moan of his name before being launched into a pool of complete, white ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his thrusts did not falter as he sat up watching you ride out your orgasm with hooded eyes.

“you look so pretty like this ma”

he wasnt far behind, his hips stuttered before he let out a loud whine, followed by a hiss and a string of curses, painting your insides white, sending a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim, before collapsing on top of you.

the two of you were sweating and panting, both completely silent, just relishing in the feeling of the post sex haze. your hands come up to his hair and you ran your fingers through it soothingly.

he planted a soft kiss to your collarbone before bringing his face up so he was eye level with you. his eyes trailed over your face, creating a memory and he took a deep breath in before speaking.

"i do love you”.

_______________________________________________

YALL😛😛😛😛

sorry for starving you guys i’ve just been mad busy but i’m back !!!! love u. bee ❤️‍🩹

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @urmyslxt @soursturniolo @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattslolita @flowerxbunnie @lovingsturniolo @its-jennarose @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @justaslvttygirl @urfavstromboli @chrisfavoritepepsi @kenleighsbl0g @udonotknowme

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[miffysrambles]

Hello! I love your headcannons! What are your headcannons for when S/O is gravely injured? Like, the S/O is fighting against some demons along with MK, Wukong and Macaque and they get very seriously injured, to the point of passing out. What would their reactions be?

Wukong, Macaque, and MK With a Gravely Injured S/O

(This one took a bit, sorry about that!)

Wukong:

Oh, he is livid.

He shouts at MK to take you somewhere safe, as far away from his location as the boy could go.

“Get them out of here kid, get them help! I’ll handle this!”

He needs to beat some sense into this bastard, right here and right now.

Uses almost every single one of his powers to strike the demon, soon enough scaring them off into never hurting you or even going near you again.

Grabs them by the collar as they fall to the ground, bearing his fangs as speaks through his teeth. 

“If I see you even stand close to that mortal ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you next time…”

Eventually travels back to you and MK on his cloud, finding the both of you in your apartment as the noodle boy patches you up.

He sends MK home, ensuring you’ll be ok.

“Don’t worry bud, they’ll be fine. Get some rest, ya earned it.”

He sits down next to you on the couch as he lays your head in his lap.

His fingers intertwine with your hair, his other hand caressing your face as you rest from the intensity of your wounds.

He stays like this for quite some time, maybe even hours as he does not dare to move a muscle.

His heart skips a beat as you shift awake, smiling up at him as you regain consciousness.

He smiles back at you, it might have been the fact you were still a bit tired but you swear you could see small tears in his eyes.

“Peaches, oh thank Gods! It’s ok! You’re ok, you’re safe…”

He wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and cover your gorgeous face in kisses but does not want to move you when you’re in pain.

Soon enough when you’re ready to move he does just that, laying you on his chest as he presses soft kisses all over your face.

He holds you close as if you were about to disappear any second, you’re guessing he really was scared today -which is super rare.-

“I love you, oh I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Macaque:

His first instinct is to get you the hell out of there. 

As soon as his six ears hear your breath falter, he pulls you through into the shadows and gets you both out of the fight.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit! You're going to be okay sweet cheeks, don’t close your eyes on me. Keep those gorgeous eyes open.��

He falls into his living room with you in his arms, frantically kissing your forehead as he sets you down on the couch. 

He’s scrambling through his dojo to find stuff to patch up your wounds, he doesn’t have much because, well, he’s immortal.

After patching you up, –which is sloppily done by his shaking fingers–, he leaves you alone to rest.

“Gods damnit!” He punches a hole through the wall of the dojo, taking his rage out on the crumbling drywall. 

He needs to direct his anger towards something else before the entire building falls.

And luckily for him, he has just the target.

Oh, the demon didn’t win like they thought they did, not even close.

As soon as Macaque sees they let their guard down, he emerges from the shadows to summon his smoke monster.

It grabs the demon within its giant grasp as it forces them into the gravel below, crushing them with its sheer force.

“So! Do you really think you got away with hurting that mortal? Big mistake on your part…”

After beating the demon to a pulp, he travels back to you through the shadows.

You open your eyes to see him land on the living room floor, his ears perking up from the sound of your breath hitching as he rushes to your side. 

You smile up at him through your pain, your bandages wrapped a little too tight.

“Macaque? I love you and appreciate it so much but you tied these a little too tight…”

He blinks in surprise as he reapplies the white strips on your wounds, smiling as he kisses your nose.

“Heh, sorry about that starshine. Glad you’re ok…”

MK:

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your bright bubbly boyfriend so angry.

In fact, he is beyond furious.

To the point, he turns into his monkey form and beats the demon into a pulp. 

Pigsy and Sandy were helping you stand as you stared at the sight in front of you, MK glowing a bright gold color as the two flew through the sky so fast you couldn’t keep your eyes up with them.

At one point, the demon tried to teleport away but MK was two steps ahead as he reached his arm out and grabbed them by the collar.

“Hey! Who– Said– I– Was– Done with you yet!”

He was throwing the demon around the mountains in between his words, finally, the demon was defeated as Mk ran up to you.

“(Name)! Oh, please be ok!” He wraps his arms around you, earning a gasp of pain from you.

“Careful kid, they’re hurt bad…” Pigsy put his hands up to warn your worried boyfriend.

“Right, right. Come on, let’s get them home.”

MK scooped you up in his arms as he carried you to your apartment, using the key that you gave him to set you down on the couch.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some bandages.”

He kissed your forehead as he left the room, coming back with white gauze and a waterproof marker.

You raised your eyebrow at the marker, earning a small smile from him as he slightly laughed.

“I was gonna draw on your bandages, add a little happy touch to the sadness!”

You laughed softly, nodding at the idea.

“Sounds fun, let's do it.”

He beamed as he applied the white strips, drawing various doodles on your bandages such as a doodle of the two of you kissing, one of the Monkey King (of course), and little hearts and stars everywhere.

You smiled as he held up his phone camera to you so you could see, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you babes, I look so colorful!’

His cheeks flushed red as he kissed your cheeks several times in return, “Of course, I think you look goood! I’m so glad you’re feeling better sweetie”

[blueicequeen19]

Warnings: Rafe & Virgin reader, coercion, Rafe’s filthy mouth, manipulation

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Rafe shut and locked the door to his bedroom. He leaned against the door, drinking you in with dark eyes and a clenched jaw, his hands tucked in his pockets. It didn’t matter how tightly you wrung your hands, they wouldn’t stop shaking. Despite your terror, your thighs were slick just from his undying attention from the night. Your panties became damp from just him guiding you around all night with his hand on your waist.

Now you were alone in his room and at his mercy.

“Rafe—.” Your courage evaporated as he took a step towards you, taking a long hit from his weed pen.

“Take off your clothes. Leave the skirt.” You sucked in a breath at his demanding tone, your hands fisting your skirt.

“I—.”

“Off. Now.” He took another pull, eyes dark as he watched you. The tent in his pants was hard not to notice and you couldn’t tear your eyes from it as you slipped your sandals off. His hand was suddenly there, cupping himself like he needed to relieve the tension as you worked the buttons free of your blouse.

Heat covered your body as your shirt hit the floor and you met his intense gaze.

“Rafe, what are we doing?” You breathed, moving to cover your chest but he clicked his tongue in warning, releasing another cloud of sour scented smoke.

“Bra and panties too.” A whimper escaped you as you slowly released the clasp on your bra and let it fall to the floor. You refused to meet his eyes as you reached beneath your skirt to guide your panties down your legs. It was becoming hard to breathe. When you looked at him again he’d taken off his own shirt and shoes, revealing muscles that had you aching in all the right places.

“Bend over the bed.” You blinked at him in shock. You’d expected something a little more romantic for your first time and the disappointment started to feel heavy. Was this really happening?

“You can do it, doll. I want to see all of you.” His words felt like a warm caress oddly and your feet were suddenly moving you closer to him and next to the bed. His eyes never left your body as he calmed his erection through his pants.

“I’ve never done this before.” You rasp, pleading up at him with big doe eyes. Rafe offers you a small smile as he cups your cheek, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

“But you want this, don’t you?” Rafe asks, his voice hopeful. You open your mouth to tell him you’re not ready but his hand slips from your face and down your chest to cup your breast. His thumb swirls across your hardened nipple and his eyes drop to watch. The tension was so thick you could barely breathe. A choked moan slipped from your lips and Rafe cursed.

“I want to do so many things to you.” Rafe’s voice was deeper, laced with desire as his hand left your aching nipple to trail down your stomach. There’s a pulsing between your thighs that only increases the closer he gets.

“I want to make you cum again and again.” His fingers graze your mound and you flinch, desperate for more.

“Don’t you want that?” Rafe’s eyes finally meet yours again just as his fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs. You grab his bicep on instinct, your knees nearly buckling as he toys with you, sending bolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“I could make you feel so good. I’d be gentle.” Rafe whispers, teasing your entrance with the tip of his fingers. You whimper, fighting the urge to grind against his hand for more. You’d never experienced anything like this and immediately knew it was the sweetest kind of torture.

“I bet you taste so fucking good.” He practically growled.

“Please..”

Rafe’s fingers slow, his brows raising in question at your plea.

“Tell me. Tell me what you need.” Rafe urges, guiding your hand to his erection as your legs start to shake. You squeezed gently and Rafe groaned. The desire was too much. The mess between your thighs was only proof of that. Rafe was too much.

“I need—.” The tip of his finger found your opening and you knew you were on the verge of begging.

“Do you want me inside this sweet little cunt?” Rafe began to pump his finger gently, only giving the tip but it was enough for a sob to escape your lips.

“Yes.” You panted only for him to completely withdraw and bring his fingers to his mouth. It was erotic in itself watching him lick you from his fingers and you were already on the verge of combusting. His hands lowered to his pants and he slowly started the unzip them.

“Then bend over the bed.”

[natsaffection]

Walking through fire. | N.R

Natasha Romanoff x Firefighter!Reader

Warnings: Dealing with Break up

Word count: 5,7k

A/n: Hello! The request idea started because the person has been looking for a similar fic for a while. So if you know of one that is similar, please let me know! So please don't be surprised, I didn't copy it. 🫶🏼🫶🏼

You stepped out of the fire truck, adrenaline still pulsing through your veins, even as the cool evening air settled over the fire station. The last call had been intense. A warehouse fire that threatened to spread to nearby buildings. But, as always, your team had handled it professionally. A small smile tugged at your lips as you walked back to the station, the gear clinking softly with each step.

You were the only woman on your team, which had initially caused some concern among some of the older men when you joined. But you quickly proved yourself, not only as capable but as one of the best. Over time, you earned their respect, and in many ways, you became the heart of the team. They looked out for you just as you did for them, and their bond was strong, forged in the fires they fought together.

As you entered the locker room, you were greeted by the familiar banter of your colleagues, along with the smell of sweat and smoke. "Hey, are you coming?" called Jake, one of the older firefighters, as he peeled off his gear. "We’re heading to O’Malley’s tonight. Are you in?"

You hesitated for a moment. It had been a long shift, and all you wanted was to go home, shower, and spend some time with Natasha. But it had been a while since you’d gone out with the guys, and it would be good to relax with them. Besides, you could invite Natasha, it might be just what you both needed to reconnect.

"Sure!" you replied with a smile. "I’ll be there. I’ll see if Nat wants to come too." The guys exchanged knowing looks, and Jake gave you a thumbs-up. "Great! I haven’t seen her in a while. It’d be nice to catch up with her."

You nodded, but a small knot of worry twisted in your stomach. It was true..Natasha had been distant lately, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But you pushed the thought aside, hoping that tonight would be a chance to bridge the growing gap between you.

The atmosphere at O’Malley’s was lively, the local bar filled with laughter and chatter from off-duty firefighters and locals. You arrived with your team, and the group immediately took their usual corner spot. You spotted Natasha near the bar, as stunning as ever, her sharp green eyes scanning the room. Your heart lifted at the sight of her, and you quickly made your way over to her.

"Hey, you made it." you said with a warm smile, leaning in to kiss Natasha on the cheek. Natasha smiled back, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Of course. You know I wouldn’t miss a chance to see you and your boys letting loose." You chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Natasha’s waist and leading her back to the table. As you joined the group, the conversation flowed easily, with stories from the day and jokes making the rounds. But you couldn’t help but notice that Natasha was quieter than usual, her responses brief, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

It wasn’t long before Jake, ever observant, leaned over to you. "Hey, is everything okay between you two?" he asked quietly, his tone gentle but concerned. You sighed, glancing over at Natasha, who was now holding a drink and barely participating in the conversations. "I don’t know.. " you admitted softly. "She’s been..distant lately. I just can’t figure out why."

Jake nodded, his brow furrowed. "You know we all care about you, right? If something’s wrong, don’t just ignore it."

"I know." you replied with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks. I’ll talk to her." But as the evening wore on, your worries deepened. You watched as Natasha grew more withdrawn, her attention drifting further away from the group. Your heart sank as you saw Natasha get up and head to the bar to talk to another woman, a striking woman with a confident smile. A knot formed in your stomach as you watched the interaction from a distance.

Natasha laughed, leaning in closer to the woman, and you couldn’t miss the unmistakable signs of flirting. Your mind raced, trying to rationalize it, convincing yourself that you were overreacting. But the way Natasha touched the woman’s arm, the way she looked at her, was something you couldn’t ignore. Jake’s words echoed in your mind Don’t just ignore it.

Your hands clenched into fists, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and hurt. You couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t watch this unfold before your eyes. You stood up abruptly, the movement catching Natasha’s attention. Your eyes met across the room, and for a brief moment, you saw something in Natasha’s gaze, maybe guilt or simply the realization that she’d been caught.

You didn’t wait for Natasha to come to you. You turned and left the bar, the cool night air hitting you like a slap as you stepped outside. The anger that simmered within you was like a raging fire, threatening to consume you. You barely registered the short drive home, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Back in your apartment, you paced the living room, your thoughts racing. The minutes dragged on like hours until you finally heard the door behind you open and close. You turned to see Natasha standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable. "I-" Natasha began, but you cut her off.

"Don’t." you interrupted, your voice trembling with the effort to control the storm within you. "Just don’t! I saw you, Natasha. I saw how you were with her." Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It’s not what you think-"

"Then what is it?" you demanded, your voice rising. "Because from where I stood, it looked like you were flirting with someone else. And this isn’t the first time you’ve been like this, Nat. You’ve been cold, distant, like you don’t even want to be around me anymore.. And now… this?"

"I don’t know what you want me to say!" Natasha replied, her voice growing colder. "You’re always at work, always with your team. Maybe I needed someone to talk to, someone who’s actually there.." You stared at her, her words cutting deep. "Are you serious? I risk my life every day, and you think I’m neglecting you? You knew what my job was when we got together, Natasha. You knew how important it is to me."

"And what about us?" Natasha shot back, her voice rising as well. "What about our relationship? Or is that supposed to come second to everything else?" Your eyes flashed with anger. "I’ve tried, Nat! I’ve tried to be there for you, but you’re the one who pushed me away. You’re the one who shut me out!" Natasha took a step forward, her fists clenched. "Maybe I pushed you away because I felt like you weren’t really there anymore! Maybe I shut you out because I don’t know how to compete with your damn job!"

The room was filled with your heavy breathing, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. You felt your heart breaking with each passing moment, the reality of what Natasha was saying beginning to sink in. "I never asked you to compete with my job.." you said, your voice trembling. "I just wanted you to be there for me, like I was always there for you." Natasha’s expression softened for a moment, but then it hardened again, her walls going back up. "Maybe we’ve just grown too far apart, Y/n. Maybe this just doesn’t work anymore." You felt like the ground had been pulled out from under you. "Do you really mean that?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t know what else to say..I can't anymore.." Natasha replied, her tone flat. "I’m tired, Y/n. I’m tired of feeling like I’m always second place in your life." The finality in Natasha’s words hit you like a sledgehammer, and you knew deep down that this was the end. The fight drained out of you, leaving only a hollow emptiness that you couldn’t ignore. "Maybe you’re right." you said quietly, your voice breaking. "Maybe we’ve just grown too different."

Natasha looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes, before she finally turned and left, leaving you in the ruins of what had once been your shared life. The door closed with a final, echoing click, and you sank onto the couch, the weight of the night crashing over you. The tears you had been holding back finally broke free, and you cried until there was nothing left, the pain of losing Natasha burning brighter than any fire you had ever faced.

Weeks passed since that night, the night when everything had fallen apart. You had thrown yourself into your work, using the long hours and hard shifts to numb the pain that had settled in your chest. The fire station became more than just a workplace, it became your refuge, a place where you could lose yourself in the routine, the adrenaline, and the camaraderie of your team.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fully escape the pain that Natasha’s absence had left behind. The quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts were the worst. Those were the times when the memories came back. Memories of Natasha’s smile, her laughter, the way she would snuggle up to you after a long day. All of it haunted you, lingering like smoke long after the fire had died.

Your teammates noticed the change in you almost immediately. They were used to you being the strong, confident woman who could take on any challenge, who always had a quick joke or a comforting word at the ready. But lately, you had become quieter, more withdrawn. The usual spark in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a pained expression that worried them more than you realized.

It didn’t take long for the whispers to start. The guys knew something was wrong, but out of respect, they didn’t push you to talk about it..at least not at first. But one day, after another exhausting shift, Jake, who always seemed to sense when something was off, finally confronted you in the locker room. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm as you laced up your boots. You looked up, exhaustion evident in every line of your face. "Sure, What’s up?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure how to begin, before finally coming out with it. "The guys and I..we’ve noticed you’ve changed lately. You’re quieter. We’re worried about you." Your first instinct was to brush it off, to tell him you were fine, but the concern in Jake’s eyes stopped you. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I..I’m okay, Jake. I’m just going through some stuff."

Jake nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "We heard that you and Natasha broke up." You flinched at the mention of her name, the wound still fresh despite the weeks that had passed. "Yeah.."

"I’m sorry," Jake said sincerely. "but you don’t have to go through this alone, you know? We’re here for you, you know that, right?" A lump formed in your throat, the kindness in Jake’s words breaking through the wall you had built around yourself. "Thanks, Jake. It’s just..it’s hard, you know? But I’ll get through it, I just need time."

Jake smiled, a small, sad smile. "We know you’re strong. But even the strongest people need their friends sometimes. Don’t shut us out, okay?" You nodded, your heart warming at his words. "Okay. I won’t."

As the days turned into weeks, you slowly began to lean more on your team, letting them in bit by bit. They were there for you in ways you hadn’t expected, they invited you out after shifts, brought you coffee when they saw you needed it, and most importantly, gave you the space you needed to heal without pushing you to talk about it before you were ready. You started to find yourself again, piece by piece. The pain of the breakup was still there, but it no longer dominated every thought. You found comfort in the work you loved and in the support of your team, who were more like brothers to you than anything else. They helped you remember who you were, a determined woman who had overcome so much in her life. This was just another challenge, another fire you had to walk through, and you knew you would come out stronger on the other side.

But there was another change in you. The breakup had forced you to take a hard look at your life, the choices you had made, and the priorities you had set. You realized that you had been using work as a way to escape from certain things like fears, insecurities, the pressure to always be the best. With the help of your teammates, you started to find a better balance. You cut back on your work hours, took time to rest, to connect with yourself, and to think about what you really wanted in life. It wasn’t easy, there were still days when the pain was too much, when the memories were too sharp but slowly, you began to feel more like yourself again.

One evening, after a particularly long but fulfilling day, you were sitting with your team at O’Malley’s, the same bar where everything had started to fall apart weeks ago. But this time, the atmosphere was different. You laughed at one of Jake’s jokes, the sound surprising even yourself. It felt good to laugh again, to feel like you were part of something again, instead of just going through the motions. As the night wore on, Jake leaned over and clinked his glass against yours. "Welcome back.." he said with a broad grin. You smiled back, this time a real smile, one that reached your eyes. And as you looked around, taking in the faces of the people who had stood by you through one of the hardest times of your life, you felt a deep gratitude and a sense of hope. You weren’t fully healed yet, you knew that would take time but you were on your way. You weren’t running from the pain anymore. You were facing it, with the support of those who cared about you. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were finally coming back to yourself.

The months that had passed since the breakup had brought with them a sense of calm that you hadn’t expected. The wounds that had once been raw and painful had slowly closed, leaving only the faintest of scars behind. You had regained your footing, largely thanks to your work and the unwavering support of your team. The fire station had become your sanctuary, a place where you could focus on the work you loved and the people who mattered to you.

With time, the thoughts of Natasha became less painful and more reflective. You had accepted that your relationship was over, and although you still cared for Natasha, you had made peace with your past. You hadn’t dated anyone new, instead choosing to focus on yourself and your career. Occasionally, you wondered if Natasha had moved on, if she had found someone to fill the void you had left behind. But those thoughts were fleeting, quickly pushed aside by the demands of your work.

One late afternoon, your team received an urgent call, a fire had broken out in a high-end residential complex in a busy part of town. Without hesitation, you geared up and raced to the scene, sirens blaring through the streets. When you arrived at the complex, your focus was solely on the task ahead.

The building was engulfed in flames, thick black smoke billowing from the windows of the upper floors. The fire was intense, but not unlike others you had faced before. Your team worked with practiced precision, setting up hoses and preparing to combat the blaze. You quickly joined them, your thoughts focused only on containing the fire and ensuring everyone’s safety. As you worked to bring the fire under control, you noticed a small commotion at the edge of the crowd that had gathered outside. A woman was arguing with one of the firefighters, her voice rising in desperation. You blinked through the smoke and your heart sank. It was Natasha.

Natasha stood at the edge of the barricade, her face pale and tense, her eyes fixed on the burning building. She was arguing with one of the firefighters, apparently determined to get inside. "I have to go in!" Natasha said, her voice thick with panic. "There are things in there that I can’t lose, please.."

"I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s too dangerous." the firefighter replied, his voice firm but sympathetic. "We can’t let anyone in until we’re sure the fire is completely out and the building is safe." Natasha looked like she was about to argue further, her frustration and fear palpable. You knew that look all too well..Natasha was stubborn, and when she set her mind to something, she didn’t let go easily. Taking a deep breath, knowing this wouldn’t be easy, you stepped forward and made your way over to them.

"Natasha." you called, drawing both Natasha’s and the firefighter’s attention to you. Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But she quickly composed herself, her expression shifting to one of determination. "Y-Y/n! I have to go in.. There are things..things I can’t lose."

You understood the urgency in Natasha’s voice, but you also knew the dangers that still lurked in the building. You turned to the firefighter, who was visibly struggling to keep Natasha from pushing past him. "It’s okay." you said, stepping forward. "I’ll go in with her. I know the risks, and I can make sure she stays safe." The firefighter hesitated, glancing between you and Natasha before finally nodding. "Alright, but be quick. The structure is still unstable, and we don’t know how long it will hold."

You nodded in understanding before turning to Natasha. "Come on." you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Let’s get what you need." Natasha nodded, her relief evident, though her tension remained, as she followed you toward the building. You moved quickly through the entrance, the smell of smoke and charred wood heavy in the air. The fire was mostly out, but the damage was extensive, and the walls still radiated heat.

You led the way, keeping an eye on Natasha as you navigated through the debris. "Where do we need to go?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder. "Upstairs.." Natasha replied, her voice tight. "My apartment is on the top floor." You moved carefully, avoiding the more unstable areas as you climbed the stairs to Natasha’s apartment. When you reached the door, it hung on its hinges, the hallway beyond filled with smoke and debris. You pushed the door open, and before you lay the charred remains of what had once been Natasha’s home.

Natasha stepped inside, her movements hesitant as she took in the destruction. You stayed close, your eyes scanning the room for potential hazards. The apartment was almost unrecognizable, blackened walls, burned furniture, and shattered glass littered the floor. But Natasha’s attention was focused on something deeper, something more personal. She moved to a small cabinet at the back of the room, kneeling down and carefully opening it. Inside were a few items that had somehow escaped the fire. An old jewelry box, a small stack of letters, and a photo album that was singed at the edges but otherwise intact.

Natasha carefully lifted the photo album, her hands trembling slightly as she opened it. The first picture showed you and her, taken on a lazy Sunday morning in your old apartment. You were sitting on the couch, your head resting on Natasha’s shoulder, both of you smiling at the camera. It was one of Natasha’s favorite photos, a moment of pure bliss, captured forever.

You held your breath as you saw the picture. "You kept this?" you asked softly, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and emotion. Natasha looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I couldn’t let it go.." she admitted, her voice breaking. "I tried to move on, but..this was the only thing that made me feel close to you. I never stopped missing you, Y/n. I just didn’t know how to handle it.."

The flames had died down, and the once-raging inferno that had consumed Natasha’s apartment was now reduced to smoldering embers. You stood with Natasha near the entrance of the building, the smell of smoke still heavy in the air. Natasha’s face was etched with worry, her eyes distant as she stared at the charred remains of her home. Back outside, Natasha turned to you, clutching the singed photo album to her chest. "Y/n.." she began, her voice shaky but determined, "I..I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for a second chance. I miss you. I miss us."

Your heart clenched at the plea in Natasha’s voice, but you knew you couldn’t just let yourself be swayed so easily. The pain, the anger, the heartbreak..it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface. You couldn’t just forget how it had ended, how Natasha had pushed you away. You took a deep breath, keeping your voice steady. "Natasha, I..I can’t do this right now. I’ve moved on, or at least I’m trying to. It’s not easy for me to just go back."

Natasha’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, her fingers tightening around the photo album. "I understand.." she whispered. "I know I hurt you, Y/n, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I just wanted…I wanted to try to make things right."

You looked away, your resolve wavering for a moment before you forced yourself to stay strong. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" you asked, your tone softening slightly. Natasha hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, I’m staying with Steve. I’ll be okay."

"Good.." you replied, your voice a bit softer now. "Take care of yourself, Natasha. I’m..I’m sorry this happened to you." Natasha offered you a sad smile, her eyes a mixture of hope and resignation. "Thank you.." You nodded, your heart heavy as you watched Natasha walk away, disappearing into the darkness. You wanted to reach out, to take away the pain you had seen in Natasha’s eyes, but you knew that would only reopen wounds that had just begun to heal.

Days passed, and you tried to put the encounter with Natasha behind you. You buried yourself in your work, focusing on your team and the job that had always been your anchor. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Natasha kept creeping into your mind. You wondered how she was doing, if she had found a new place to live, if she was okay. But every time the urge to reach out to Natasha became too strong, you forced yourself to remember the pain of your breakup. The loneliness and the feeling of being pushed aside. You weren’t ready to go through that again.

Meanwhile, Natasha wasn’t ready to give up so easily. She knew she had deeply hurt you, but she also knew that you were the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had to find a way to apologize, to show you that she was serious about making things right. But every time she tried to get close, you kept her at a distance, not ready to let her back into your life.

Desperate for a solution, Natasha turned to the one person she knew you trusted completely. Jake. He was your closest friend on the team, someone who had always been there for you through thick and thin. If anyone could help Natasha find a way to reach you, it was him. "Jake, I need your help." Natasha said one evening after tracking him down at the firehouse. She had waited until you were out on a call, not wanting to make the situation even more difficult for you.

Jake studied Natasha carefully, crossing his arms. "What’s this about, Romanoff?" Natasha hesitated, unsure how to explain. "I want to apologize to Y/n. I want to show her that I’m serious about making things right, but she’s not giving me a chance. And I get it, I really do! I hurt her, and I don’t blame her for keeping her distance. But I can’t just let her go without trying."

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered her words. "Shes been through a lot." he said finally. "She’s tough, but she’s got a big heart, and what happened between you two…it really hit her hard. She’s just starting to get back to herself."

"I know.." Natasha replied, her voice heavy with emotion. "And that’s exactly why I’m asking for your help. I need to show her that I’ve changed, that I understand what I did wrong. I thought maybe..maybe you could help me find something that really matters.."

Jake studied her for a long moment, clearly weighing what he should do. He had seen how much the breakup had affected you, had been there to pick up the pieces. But he also knew that you still cared about Natasha, even if you wouldn’t admit it. "Alright.." Jake said finally. "But if we do this, it has to be something that really shows her you get it, that you understand what’s important to her. You can’t just say ‘I’m sorry’ you’ve got to prove that you get it." Natasha nodded, her heart lifting with a mix of hope and determination. "What do you suggest?"

Jake thought for a moment, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Y/n’s job and her team mean everything to her. She’s proud of the work we do, and she respects anyone who gets that. If you can show her that you appreciate her dedication, that you’re willing to support her even if it means making sacrifices, that might just reach her heart."

Natasha listened intently, and a plan began to take shape in her mind. "I think I know what I can do." she said slowly, her confidence growing. "But I’m going to need everyones help to pull it off." Jake chuckled softly, clapping Natasha on the shoulder. "Alright, Romanoff. Let’s get to it. But remember, in the end, it’s up to Y/n. If she decides she’s not ready, you’ve got to respect that."

"I will." Natasha promised, her eyes filled with determination. "But I have to try."

In the days that followed, Natasha and the Team worked together to bring the plan to life. It wasn’t easy, and there were moments when Natasha doubted herself, but she pushed through, knowing this was her last chance to make things right with you.

Finally, the day came. Jake had convinced you to come to the firehouse after your shift, under the pretense of a small team meeting. You arrived, your curiosity piqued by the unusual request. As you entered the common room, you were greeted by your teammates, all smiling, but there was also a hint of something else in their expressions..perhaps anticipation?

"Jake, what’s going on?" you asked, glancing around the room. Before he could respond, the door to the adjacent room opened, and Natasha stepped out, nervous but resolute. You held your breath as your eyes met, the air suddenly thick with tension. "Natasha.." you said slowly, your voice cautious. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m here to apologize." Natasha said, her voice firm despite the pounding of her heart. "But I’m not just here to say ‘sorry.’ I wanted to show you that I understand..really understand what’s important to you. Your job, your team..I know how much they mean to you, and I want you to know that I respect that. I want to support you, Y/n, in everything you do."

You frowned slightly, unsure where this was going. "What do you mean?" Natasha took a deep breath, then turned to Jake, who nodded and stepped forward, giving something in your hands. It was a framed certificate, one that you immediately recognized. It was an award given to firefighters who had performed exceptionally in their service, an award that you yourself had won years ago. But this wasn’t your award. This was a new one, freshly printed, with Natasha’s name on it.

Your eyes widened as you read the inscription. It was an honorary award, given to someone who had shown extraordinary understanding and support for the firefighting community. It wasn't just a symbol, it was something that had to be earned.

"I talked to Jake.." Natasha explained, her voice gentle but steady. "And with the rest of the team. I wanted to understand what you do, what you go through every day. I spent the last few weeks learning about your work, the risks you take, and the sacrifices you make. I even went through part of the training to get a real sense of what it’s like. This award..it’s not just a piece of paper. It’s my way of showing you that I’m ready to be there for you, in the way you need."

You stared at the certificate, your emotions swirling. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the gesture. It was clear that Natasha had gone to great lengths to understand your world, to step into your shoes and appreciate the life you were dedicated to. The weight of Natasha’s efforts, the sincerity in her eyes, all of it hit you deeply.

Natasha continued, her voice growing more emotional as she spoke. "Y/n, I know I messed up. I let my insecurities and fears get in the way, and I pushed you away when I should have held on. But I’m here now, ready to support you in everything you do, no matter what it takes. I’m not asking for everything to go back to the way it was. I know that’s not possible. I just want a chance to be a part of your life again, to do it right this time."

You felt your heart being pulled in multiple directions. On one hand, the pain of your breakup was still fresh, the wounds not fully healed. But on the other hand, Natasha’s gesture was so heartfelt, so genuine, that it was impossible to ignore. You glanced around the room, seeing your team, your family looking at you with hopeful eyes. They had been your support through the hardest times, and now, in this moment, they were silently encouraging you to consider Natasha’s plea.

You turned back to Natasha, who was waiting with bated breath for your response, her vulnerability on full display, but her determination unwavering. It was clear that this wasn’t just an apology, no it was a promise. A promise to be better, to be the partner you had always needed.

You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling as you searched for the right words. "Natasha..What you’ve done means a lot to me. More than I can put into words. But this isn’t something I can decide on the spot. I need time..time to think about everything, to process it all." Natasha nodded immediately, her eyes shining with understanding and relief. "Of course! Take all the time you need. I’ll wait, as long as it takes."

You appreciated Natasha’s willingness to give you space. You could see the sincerity in her eyes, and it softened something inside you. "Thank you, Natasha." you said quietly. "I need to do what’s right for me…and for us, whatever that may be."

The room was thick with emotion as you turned to Jake, who gave you a small, encouraging smile. "You don’t have to decide anything today, you know." he said gently. "Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what you choose." You nodded, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders. You knew you needed to take things slowly, to figure out what was best for your heart and your future. But for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope..the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you and Natasha could find a way back to each other.

Natasha took a step forward and looked to the certificate and back to you. "This is yours." she said softly. "It’s not just about me, it’s about you and everything you stand for. And no matter what happens between us, I will always respect that."

You felt a warmth in that sentence, a reminder of what you had once shared. But you didn’t allow yourself to get lost in the past. You knew you had to be careful, to protect yourself from further pain. "Thank you," you said, your voice firm. "I’ll keep this, and I’ll think about everything you’ve said."

Natasha smiled, a gentle, hopeful smile that made your heart skip a beat. With that, you turned and left the room, the certificate clutched in your hand. Your team watched you, giving you the space you needed to process everything. Natasha remained behind, her heart heavy yet lighter, heavy with the knowledge that she still had a long way to go to regain your trust, but lighter with the hope that you might, just might, find your way back to each other.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, you felt a mixture of relief, confusion, and a small spark of hope. You weren’t ready to fully open the door to Natasha again, but you weren’t ready to close it completely either. The road ahead was long, full of uncertainties and difficult choices, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were moving in the right direction. And as you looked down at the certificate in your hand, you knew that whatever happened next, you would face it with the same strength and determination that had carried you through everything else.

(Hi! I tried something new and I'll leave the ending up to you. You can decide how it ends for both of you. :))

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[xxchumanixx]

Uno pt. 1

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You're teaching Bucky how to play Uno, but it takes a different turn than expected.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, Bucky being sweet and caring, make out session

Word count: tba

Authors note: Hello my loves! The idea for this came when I looked at my brand new The Mandalorian Uno, as I was watching Falcon and The Winter Soldier for the second time in two days (whupsi).

I'm definitely going to make a part two, we can't let naked action with Bucky slide, can we?

Enjoy!

It had been a while since you and Bucky started having game nights, playing cards and board games, whilst casually chatting.

Since working with Sam, Bucky was more relaxed, spending more time with you, after he started to work on himself.

You couldn't deny that your weekly game night was the highlight of your week, his presence enough to soothe everything that occurred over the days in between.

Of course, your ever growing feelings for him had a say in the matter, too.

"Let's play Uno!" you suggested, holding up the red box in your hand for him to see, when you returned from the drawer that held all the games you owned.

He cocked a brow, the bottle in his hand stopping mid-air, before he sat it back down.

"What's Uno?" he wanted to know, brows furrowing. "It's a card game." you replied, sitting back down in the chair to his right, placing the box on the table in front of you. "Don't worry, I'll teach you how to play."

"Never heard of it." he mumbled, fingers tracing over the letters on the front of the box. "Well, it's old, but not as old as you." you told him, smirking.

He scoffed at your words, playfully rolling his eyes. "I'm 106." he retorted, leaning forward with his arms crossed on the table. "And the game is 55." you retorted, cocking a brow at him with a grin on your lips.

"So you're almost twice as old."

He leaned back in the chair again, shaking his head in amusement, as he sipped his beer.

"Don't worry, you don't look like 106, though." you assured him with a wink, the alcohol loosening your tongue and nerves a bit.

He definitely didn't look like 106, more like so smoking hot you're gonna burn yourself.

He chuckled, wiggling his brows once, heart fluttering in your chest.

Taking the cards out of the box you pushed it aside, gathering the cards in your hands to shuffle them.

They were slightly curved and wrinkled from all the previous games played with them.

"First, you shuffle." you told him, starting to shuffle the cards. He huffed, eyes closely watching you, though.

"Never would have guessed."

Rolling your eyes, you tried to concentrate only on the shuffling, some of the cards spilling, though. His intense gaze made your hands tremble, nerves spilling over.

"Let me." he spoke up, carefully taking the cards from your hands, gathering the spilled ones. Shivers ran down your spine at his touch.

"My hand still hurts, I guess that's why I can't shuffle them as good, you know." you tried to cover it up, hinting at the accident you had when you tried to clean your windows this morning, falling from the small ladder, your hand partly taking the brunt.

It didn't hurt anymore, still you used it as a cover, as it came in handy in that moment.

He simply hummed, starting to shuffle the cards. He didn't want to think about what might have happened, if the ladder had been higher.

It took him a second to get back into it, but when he did, you couldn't help but stare. His hands expertly shuffled the cards, moving so swiftly, you thought he was playing some trick on you.

Though his fingers did a whole another trick on you, goosebumps covering your bare arms.

Swallowing, you tried not to think about what his hands could possibly do, too much.

Clearing your throat, you tore your gaze away.

"Everyone gets seven cards, dealt face down." you continued to explain, waiting for him to deal the cards. "The rest of the cards is placed in a draw pile face down."

He nodded, placing the pile in the middle of the table.

"Then you take the card on top, turn it around and place it beside the pile. This way you know which card to play."

He did what he was told, frowning at the sign on the card.

"Oh." you made, huffing. "Well, this card means that the next player has to skip their turn. Which means that, seeing as I'd be the one to start, I have to skip and you begin."

You gathered the cards he had dealt in your hands, trying not to show any signs of what cards you had on your face.

"I recommend to sort them, so you'll find matching ones more easily." you told him, doing exactly that. "You have four colors: red, blue, yellow and green. They all go from one to nine. When, for example, a yellow eight is on top of the discard pile, you can either play a yellow card with any number, or an eight of any color."

He hummed, sorting his cards as well, frowning at ones he couldn't place yet, showing you that he had at least one action card.

"There are action cards, too." you continued, arms resting on the table, as you looked at him again. "There's the skip card, a reverse card with two arrows, indicating that you switch from clockwise to counterclockwise or vice versa, a draw two card in any color, which means you have to draw two cards if you can't stack it with one of your own draw two card, a wild card that can be placed on any other number card, and let's you pick a color, and the wild draw four, which is the same, but the person following has to draw four in addition."

He sighed, overwhelmed.

You sent him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it, old man."

He sent you a pointed look, causing your smile to grow wider. He soon cracked a small smile of his own, though, not able to resist you, with a shake of his head.

Motioning for him to begin, you took a sip of your beer.

He thought for a moment, before he placed a blue one on top of the blue skip card. Humming, you placed a blue seven.

He frowned, sifting through his cards, coming up empty. "I guess I'll have to draw one when I can't play?" he spoke, eyes meeting yours in question.

You nodded, watching as he drew a card.

"Can't." he said, lips pursed. "Then it's my turn again." you returned, playing a red seven. "If you draw one but still can't play, your turn's over. There's a rule that says to draw until you can, but no one really uses that rule."

He nodded, scratching his chin, before playing a red draw two card.

Huffing, you shook your head, drawing two cards. He smirked your way, his dimples deepening.

"Your turn." you told him, after sorting your cards. "Don't you play after drawing the cards?" he asked, confused. Shaking your head, you denied with a smile. "No, the original rules say you don't. Even though most of the time we bend the rules a bit."

He chuckled, placing a red eight.

The game went on for a bit, him having to draw four, taking revenge with a duel of draw two cards, you ending up with six new cards on your hands.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that you have to say Uno! before you play your second to last card." you told him, just as he was about to play said card.

He frowned, but did as he was told, saying Uno!, before he played it.

You didn't have anything to let him draw cards, so when you played a green nine, he topped it with a red one.

Eyes wide, he cheered, grinning at you like a little boy who just received the greatest gift for Christmas.

Chuckling, you collected the cards, sorting them for him to shuffle again.

The game went on for a few rounds, him winning and losing, eager for more.

"I have a suggestion." you spoke up, watching as he shuffled the cards for the fifth time. He hummed, waiting for you to continue. "What about a drinking game?"

He cocked a brow, dealing the cards. "How does it work?"

Clearing your throat, you held up a finger, before getting up to gather two more beers.

When you returned, he had his cards already sorted, patiently waiting for you.

"So, when you are skipped, you have to drink one. When you have to draw cards, you drink the amount of cards you have to draw." you explained, handing him one of the bottles. "Means, if I have to draw four, I drink four as well."

He nodded, opening his bottle and handing it back to you, exchanging it for your unopened one, before he opened it as well.

The thoughtfulness of his actions had you smile to yourself, chest warming.

He was always somehow looking out for you, no matter how small the gesture.

It was one of the aspects that had you falling for him so hard.

You started the round, drinking and laughing.

When he played a draw two card mid-game, you topped it with one of your own, not expecting him to have another one on hand - and especially not to have a third, when you countered it, too.

Mouth agape, you stared at the pile in disbelieve, before your eyes went to his. He sent you a wink, smirking as he slightly leaned forward.

"Drink up, doll."

Swallowing, you did as you were told, drinking ten. Sighing, you drew ten cards afterwards, shaking your head in amusement.

His blue eyes were sparkling, sending shivers down your spine.

As the game continued on, he specified that the loser had to empty his bottle, no matter how much was left inside.

He was the first to do so.

An hour later you were into your sixth bottle, feeling good. The air was getting hotter, though it could have just been Bucky's presence.

Shouting in triumph, you played your last card, winning the current round. He shook his head with a grin, placing down his cards.

Only then did you notice how close he'd gotten during the rounds, legs brushing under the table.

"Drink!" you demanded breathlessly, grinning up at him. His eyes twinkled mischievously, head slightly tilted.

"What if I do this instead?" he asked, voice lowered to almost a whisper, as he leaned closer, breath fanning over your face. Your heart pounded violently in your chest, hands trembling, as your eyes flitted to his lips, when everything suddenly seemed to happen in slow-motion.

His nose brushed yours, as your eyes fluttered closed, before his lips met yours.

They were so soft, not rough.

Soft and sweet.

Your chair scraped over the floor, as he pulled it more towards him, so the table wasn't in the way anymore, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging him closer.

His hands found your waist, pulling, until you were seated on his lap.

His tongue brushed over your lower lip and you let it in, sighing softly at the sensation. His flesh hand brushed over your back, slipping under your shirt.

Sparks elicited on your skin, wherever his fingers reached.

When you parted, you panted for air, eyes locked with his blue ones. His metal fingers came up to your face, brushing away a few strands of hair, before it cupped your cheek.

Swallowing, you moved on his lap the slightest bit, and he groaned, eyes fluttering closed for a second. His erection was straining his jeans, right between your legs.

Smirking, you did it again, only for his flesh hand to find your waist, stopping you.

"If you keep doing that, I won't be able to stop." he warned, breathing shakily, as his eyes met yours again.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you whispered back.

Something rumbled deep in his chest, as his hand tightened its grip, moving you over his erection again.

You whimpered, mouth agape. His pupils were blown wide, eyes shining with lust and desire.

But there was something else, too: deep affection.

"Then I won't." he promised, lips attaching back to yours in a searing kiss. Licking into your mouth, his tongue fought with yours, his flesh hand descending, until it gripped your ass, pulling you flush against him.

You moaned into the kiss, not able to contain it, and he smirked against your lips.

"We should play Uno more often."