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sillylilsquid · 18 days ago

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bunny kisses

pairing - hyun-ju x chubby!reader summary - You're curvy. Soft. Nervous. And Hyun-ju can't keep her hands off you. With her, sex becomes worship, and your insecurities start to feel a little quieter. You don’t know what this is, but it’s the first time you feel like someone sees all of you—and stays anyway. warnings - afab!reader, explicit sexual content, body dysphoria, very subtle fat shaming, lots and lots of filthy smut, 18+ minors dni!! 10.7k words

You just wanted to be wanted.

You didn’t download the app expecting anything. You weren’t even sure what you wanted–just that it had been a while. Since anyone looked at you like they saw you. Since someone touched you like they meant it.

So you picked the pinkest pictures you had. One of you in a little skirt, caught in a store window’s reflection, legs crossed just right, face hidden behind your phone. One where you’re smiling too big, holding an iced strawberry matcha. And one taken late at night in your bedroom mirror–kneeling in your bunny print pajamas, cheeks flushed, stuffed animals piled behind you like a little shrine to softness.

Your bio was simple. Soft girl. Iced matcha enthusiast. Just looking for something casual, I guess.🌸

You told yourself it was fine if it was just sex. Fine if no one messaged. You weren’t trying to fall in love. You just wanted to be wanted.

You don’t know how long you were scrolling–left, left, left, boredom and doubt pressing into your stomach like a weight. Until you stopped.

Hyun-ju.

Tall. Androgynous. Sharp jawline, dark sunglasses, a cigarette dangling from glossed lips in one photo. A black tank top with a gold chain glistening against her smooth skin at the gym. The last photo was a blurry mirror selfie in a dim room, the angle all collarbones and laziness, like she couldn’t be bothered to try harder–and didn’t have to.

Her bio made you suck in a breath.

Terrible at small talk. I like good food, fast hookups, and soft girls with too much lip gloss.

You stared at it for a while. Your thumb hovered. And then you swiped right.

Matched.

She messages first.

well hello, gorgeous girl

Your heart flutters. You blink at the screen, reread it twice, then type back.

hi🥺

you’re killing me with that skirt in your second photo. is that legal? do you know what you’re doing to people?

You stare at the message with your mouth slightly open, fingers frozen above your keyboard. She’s not being subtle. She’s not playing games.

🥺🥺it’s just a skirt…

nah. that’s a weapon. you’re a weapon, bunny. i wanna put you in my lap and ruin you

You let out a squeak. Literally. You cover your mouth with your hand like you can shove the reaction back in. But your thighs squeeze together instinctively, and there’s no denying the warmth crawling through your chest.

you’re so bold omg😳 i’m not used to kind of attention

good. let me be the first. you deserve it, soft thing. i’d kill to make you blush in person

Your fingers tremble a little as you type your next message.

you kinda already are…

then let me take you out. tomorrow night. you dress up for me and i’ll try to behave.

behave?? somehow i don’t believe you

you shouldn’t. but i’ll still buy you dinner first. little place in Itaewon. candlelight. cocktails with flower petals. you’ll look good in that pink dress i just decided you probably own

Your lips part slowly. You do have a pink dress. Satiny. Short. The one you bought because it made you feel like a doll, but never had a reason to wear.

i actually do have a pink dress okay… i’m free after 7 🥺💕

good girl send me your number. i’ll send you the address. and bunny?

yes?

don’t be late i’ve been starving for something sweet

You let your phone drop into your lap. Your face is on fire. Your thighs are pressed tight. And your heart won’t stop thudding.

You booked a nail appointment that morning, even though your chest fluttered with guilt as you tapped your card–like part of you still didn’t think this date was real. But now, your fingers are delicate and pretty in the glow of your vanity mirror, the sheer pink polish catching the light like sugar icing. A soft shimmer to them, just in case she holds your hand.

You try not to stare too long at your reflection as you finish getting ready. Your pink satin dress clings more than you remembered. The hem brushes just above your knees, your thighs bare, your chest pushed up in a way that makes you feel both shy and desperate to be seen. You slip on your matching heels, the ones with the little bow at the ankle, and let your hair fall down your shoulders. You spritz perfume on your neck. A little on your wrist.

Then you stand in front of the mirror and pick yourself apart.

My arms look too soft. My thighs look huge. She’s going to take one look at me and think I catfished her.

Your pictures. They were all at angles. Posed. Edited in subtle ways. You looked thinner in them. Sharper. Safer.

But now you’re here. In the soft fold light of your bedroom. Real. Round. Small and curvy and so exposed.

Your phone buzzes. A message from Hyun-ju.

table’s ready. don’t keep me waiting, bunny.

Your stomach twists. You grab your purse and go.

The restaurant is dimly lit, tucked in the corner of a quiet street in Itaewon. Ivy creeps up the brick walls. There are candles on every table, their glow caught in the wine glasses like liquid flame. It’s the kind of place where dates turn into something more. Where people lean close and say things they don’t mean to say.

And she’s already there.

Hyun-ju stands to greet you. Her outfit is simple–just black slacks and a soft gray blouse, open slightly at the chest–but somehow she looks like she stepped out of a magazine. Her lashes painted with a small amount of mascara, her nails glossy. She leans on one hip and gives you a look that makes your skin go hot all at once.

Like she wants to devour you.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, eyes raking over you from heels to hem to bare shoulders. “You’re unreal.”

Your voice catches in your throat. “I-I–hi.”

She steps forward and gently takes your hand, raises it, presses a kiss to your knuckles. “That dress should be illegal.”

You’re not sure if you can breathe. You sit quickly, letting her pull out your chair, trying to hide your flushed face behind the menu.

Dinner is a slow-burn blur of candlelight and stolen glances.

You order a drink with lychee and rose petals. It’s girly and sweet and tastes like spring. She watches you sip it with such intensity you nearly drop the glass. Her fingers toy with the stem of her wine glass white her other hand rests, casual and elegant, near yours on the table. She asks you soft questions–how your day was, what polish you picked, what perfume you’re wearing.

“You smell like marshmallows,” she murmurs, voice low, leaning just slightly across the table. “I want to lick it off your skin.”

You giggle, flustered. “You’re terrible.”

“I am.” Her smile curls like smoke. “But you’re making it very hard to behave.”

After your second drink, your cheeks are warm and your limbs are a little looser. You start talking more freely. She makes you laugh. She makes you squirm. Every compliment feels like it lands on bare skin. She watches you the whole time–like she’s memorizing you.

At one point, you lift your drink to your lips and she stops mid sentence, tilts her head.

“Do you know how pretty you are when you blush?” she asks softly. “You look like a treat. Sweet little cupcake.”

You hide your face behind your hand. “Stop.”

“Can’t.” She reaches across the table and tugs your hand away gently. “You don’t even know what you do to people, do you?”

You shake your head, shy. “I really don’t.”

She smiles. Not like she pities you–but like she’s starving. “You will,” she says.

The air outside is cooler now, sharp and smoky with the night. Your heels click softly on the pavement as you walk, your dress swishing against your thighs. Hyun-ju walks beside you with her hands in her pockets, every movement confident and unhurried.

You tell yourself not to read into anything.

It’s just a hookup.

She’s beautiful, and she wants you–for now. You’re allowed to want that. You’re allowed to want this.

But when she looks at you like that–like she could pin you to a wall with her eyes–your stomach turns itself inside out.

“You’re quiet,” she murmurs, glancing down at you. “Cold?”

You shake your head quickly. “No. Just…nervous, maybe.”

Hyun-ju hums like she expected that. She brushes your hand lightly with her fingertips. “You don’t have to be.”

“I know. I just–” You chew your lip. “I guess I keep reminding myself that it’s just…casual.”

At that, she stops walking. You blink and turn to her–and find her watching you with something darker in her gaze.

“Bunny,” she says, voice low and steady, “I know what kind of app we met on. And I know you’re trying to protect your heart right now. But I want you to hear this clearly.”

Her fingers tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. She leans in.

“You’re not just a body to me. You’re not just a hole to fill. You’re you. Soft. Sweet. Blushing and beautiful and dressed like a dream. And when I get you inside my apartment…”

She smiles. Slow, wolfish. “I’m gonna feast.”

Your knees nearly buckle.

Her place smells like clean linen and sandalwood. Dim lights. Tall bookshelves. A few mismatches art prints on the wall, but otherwise minimal–like she only brings home what she wants.

The door clicks shut. You barely have time to turn around before Hyun-ju is on you–not rough, not rushing, just hungry. Her hands find your waist. Her lips hover near your cheek. “Take your shoes off, sweetheart,” she whispers. “I want you comfortable when I take you apart.”

You step out of your heels. She guides you gently backward until the backs of your knees touch the bed.

“Sit,” she murmurs. “Just like that.”

You obey, nervous and breathless, hands clasped in your lap. The satin of your dress rides up slightly over your thighs. And she drops to her knees in front of you like you’re an altar.

“Oh, look at you,” she whispers. Her hands slide up your legs, over the soft curve of your calves, then your thighs. She spreads them gently, reverently, so she can kneel between. “Fuck, baby. You’re unreal. You’re art.”

Her hands knead at your thighs, slow and indulgent. Not rushing to undress you–just worshipping.

“So thick,” she murmurs, pressing kisses to the inside of one thigh. “So soft and perfect and fuck, I could die between these legs.”

Your breath catches. You grab the hem of your dress, trying to keep your hands from shaking.

Then she lifts it. Slowly, carefully. She pushes it up to your waist and stares like she’s starving.

“You’re shaking,” she says gently, and looks up. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“No–please, don’t,” you breathe. “Please.”

Her hands slide up to your hips, her thumbs brushing the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re so shy,” she whispers. “But you let me see you like this. You let me touch. That’s so good, bunny. You’re such a good girl for me.”

She presses a kiss to your belly. Then another. Then another. Her lips trial across your soft stomach, slow and adoring. She buries her face there with a soft groan, her palms now smoothing over your waist like she’s trying to hold all of you.

“Fuck, I love this tummy,” she murmurs. “So cute. So soft. Want you to ride my face with it spilling all over me.”

You gasp. “Hyun-ju–”

She pulls your panties down slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“You’re shaking because you’re nervous,” she says softly. “But soon you’ll be shaking because I won’t stop until you scream.”

Hyun-ju pulls your panties the rest of the way and drops them beside the bed like a trophy. Then she leans back on her heels between your spread thighs and breathes out like she’s seeing heaven.

“Come here,” she urges softly. “Come sit on my face.”

Your heart stutters. “W-what?”

She reaches up, hands gliding over your soft thighs again, but slower now. “I want your cunt on my mouth, bunny. Want to feel all this softness, all of you against my face while I make you cry.”

You blink fast, flustered, and fold in on yourself like a closing flower.

“I–I can’t,” you whisper, arms coming up to hide your tummy, legs shifting instinctively. “I’m too heavy. I’ll crush you.”

Hyun-ju tilts her head, but there’s no impatience. Just warmth. Just hunger softened by something almost tender.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs, gently guiding your hands down, “you don’t have to be shy with me.”

You shake your head. “I’m not trying to be–I just–I know I don’t look like the girls people usually…”

“Fuck that,” her voice darkens. “You think I’d kneel for someone I didn’t ache for?”

You swallow hard. She leans in. Kisses your tummy again, then the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Each kiss is firmer. Hotter. Hungrier.

“I’ll never ask you to do something that scares you,” she explains, gently easing you back onto the mattress. “But I want to show you what I see when I look at you. Can I do that?”

You nod slowly.

She grins, voice low and coaxing. “Then be good. Lay back.”

You do.

Your body sinks into the sheets. Your dress is bunched around your waist. Your panites are gone. You feel bare, exposed–like every part of you is on display. But then Hyun-ju crawls up onto the bed and kneels between your legs, lowering herself down, eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t have to move,” she whispers. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me taste you like this.”

You gasp as she lowers herself, hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips just right.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “You’re soaked. Look at that. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

You nod again, lips trembling. “Y-yeah.”

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider. She buries her face between them like she belongs there–like this is what her mouth was made for. Her tongue licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, and the noise she makes? Pure filth.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” she moans.

You whimper. Your hips twitch, but she holds you still, strong palms gripping your plush thighs, her thumbs kneading into the softness.

“You’re gonna take it,” she breathes. “You’re gonna let me worship this pussy. Every inch of you. Don’t hide from me, baby. Don’t ever hide.”

And then, she devours you.

“That’s it,” Hyun-ju breathes against your clit, tongue curling slow and sure. “That’s my girl. Just like that.”

You choke on a moan, hips rocking helplessly, thighs trembling in her grip. She licks you through it again–again–and her voice is honeyed filth, smooth and dark and reverent.

“Such a pretty cunt, baby. Can feel you fluttering on my tongue. She’s so sensitive, huh? Just needs someone to pay attention.”

You whimper, hands fisting the sheets.

“I know, I know,” she coos, nuzzling into you. “It’s so much. Too good, isn’t it? That’s okay–I’m right here. Let it happen. Let me make you cum.”

Your whole body arches when she sucks on your clit, just the right pressure, just right rhythm–and her voice stays in your ear like a lifeline.

“You deserve this. All of it. Want you to remember how it feels to be wanted. To be worshipped. Cum for me, soft thing.”

You break like glass in her hands.

When you come down, your thighs are still twitching, breath in shambles, Hyun-ju climbs up your body–licking her lips, her cheeks flushed with heat.

“That was fucking beautiful,” she whispers, kissing your jaw. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

You reach for her before you even think about it. Your fingers tangle in her shirt, tugging, desperate. “Want–wanna take this off,” you mumble. “Wanna see you.”

She pauses. Watches you for a breath like she’s memorizing this–your need, your softness, your hunger.

Then she pulls you up gently and kisses you full on the mouth.

It’s not just hungry. It’s slow and messy and deep–her lips against yours, her tongue pressing in, letting you taste yourself on her. You moan into it. Your hands fumble at the buttons of her shirt. She helps you halfway, then strips it off the rest of the way, tossing it aside. Her bra joins it.

Then she guides your hands to her waist.

“Undress me, bunny,” she murmurs. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

You’re clumsy and breathless, but you peel her pants down, underwear too, until she’s bare between your legs–flushed and damp and trembling with restraint.

And when you both sink back onto the bed, skin against skin, you wrap your arms around her, your legs tangling. She kisses you again. This time, her hand slides down your tummy and between your legs.

“You’re still so wet,” she whispers. “You want more?”

You nod, dazed. “Please…”

Her fingers slip into you, slow and thick, curling just right. You gasp–and your hand moves instinctively. Down her hips. Across the inside of her thigh. She stutters in her breath when your fingers brush over her.

“Fuck–baby–” Her eyes flutter closed. “Yeah. like that. Want your fingers.”

You press in. she rocks down into your hand as she fucks you with her own–matching rhythms, kissing between gasps, her teeth catching your lip when your thumb brushes her clit.

The bed creaks. The room echoes with soft, wet sounds, breathless moans, half spoken praise.

“You’re so tight,” she pants. “So sweet–fuck, your fingers feel so good.”

“You too,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You feel–oh god–”

You both cum within seconds of each other–her hips jerking, your legs shaking, moans swallowed into messy, open mouthed kisses.

And when it’s over, you’re both breathless, your fingers still tangled inside one another, your bodies sticky and trembling and flushed.

Hyun-ju brushes her nose against your cheek, voice gone soft again. “Did so good for me, bunny.”

You nuzzle into her, afraid to say anything that might break the spell. She just pulls you closer, one arm draped over your waist, and breathes you in like a secret.

You lie there in a daze, limbs limp and chest heaving, body still twitching from the intensity of it all. Hyun-ju is half on top of you, warm and soft and barely catching her breath. For a long moment, all either can do is listen to the shared thrum of your heartbeats, skin slick and flushed where it touches.

Then she moves gently–pressing a kiss to your jaw before pulling back, her voice hoarse but warm. “Be right back, sweet girl.”

She disappears into the bathroom. You barely have time to miss her before she returns with a warm, damp washcloth and a glass of water. She knees beside you and begins to clean you up with the softest touch, kissing the inside of your thigh, your tummy, your hip bone as she goes.

“Still shaking,” she mumbles, almost to herself. “Did I ruin you, pretty thing?”

You blush, but you don’t answer.

She smiles and cups your cheek. “Drink some water. Gotta take care of my girl.”

My girl.

You take the glass and sip slowly. She watches you the whole time, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. Then she tucks you in, pulling the blanket up and settling beside you.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You feel the weight of it in your chest–like if you stay here too long, you might forget that this was supposed to be casual. Just a hookup. Just one night.

“I should go,” you say softly.

Hyun-ju lifts her head. “What?”

You sit up, pulling the blanket around yourself. “It’s late. I should–I should get home.”

She frowns. “Bunny, just stay.”

You shake your head, voice too thin. “I really shouldn’t. I have work tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll get you an Uber.” She doesn’t say it with resentment–just quiet resignation. You look at her. Her mussed hair, the tenderness in her gaze. It hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Hyun-ju pulls out her phone. “Don’t be.”

She orders the car without another word. When it arrives, she walks you to the curb in just her hoodie, leans down, and kisses your cheek.

“Thanks for tonight,” she murmurs. Her voice is too soft. “Sleep safe, gorgeous girl.”

And then, you’re gone.

The next day, you can’t focus at work.

You’re barely registering emails. Barely hearing your coworkers when they talk to you. You keep zoning out, thinking about Hyun-ju’s mouth on your skin, her breathy little moans, the way she kissed your stomach like it was sacred. You can still hear her voice in your head–lay back for me, bunny. You press your thighs together beneath your desk and tell yourself to stop.

After work, you decide to treat yourself–a little boba run before heading home. Something sweet to make up for the ache you’re trying not to name.

You’re halfway through ordering your drink when you hear her laugh. You freeze.

It’s her. You know her voice now, the rasp of it, the way her laughter curls at the ends like smoke. You turn your head before you can stop yourself–and there she is, in the corner of the cafe, dressed casual and effortless, her hair up, her head tipped back as she laughs at something another girl is saying.

The girl is pretty. And stylish. Skinny. Her makeup’s perfect. She’s leaning close, smiling wide, like she knows she’s winning.

You stare for too long. Hyun-ju catches your eye. For a second, she looks…surprised. Her smile softens, lips parting like she might say something. But your drink is called out. You grab it and turn away, hear in your throat, cheeks burning. You don’t look back.

Your apartment feels colder than normal.

You curl up in your bed in your favorite pajamas and try to color in your Sanrio coloring book, hoping the soft pastel colors and little bows will distract you. They don’t. Your thoughts keep spinning.

It was just a hookup, you remind yourself. You just wanted to feel wanted, even if it was only for one night.

And you did. You got it. She touched you like she adored you. She kissed you like she was starving. She said you were soft and sweet and delicious.

But she’s already moved on.

You swallow hard. Your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You grab it. Not her.

So you open the app again. The same hookup app where you matched with her in the first place. Maybe if someone else wants you–even for a night–it’ll quiet this aching in your chest.

You update your photos. You re-read your little bio. Then you swipe.

A few matches come quickly. You message one–she’s pretty, a little edgy looking, a pierced brow and dark lipstick. You say hi.

She replies: “Sorry, I’m not really into ultra-fem girls.”

Your stomach sinks. You match with another. She messages first, only to say: “Sorry, chubby girls aren’t really my type.”

You set your phone down. You stare at the ceiling. Suddenly, you feel stupid for trying. For getting dressed up. For shaving your legs. For letting yourself hope. You press your face into the pillow and squeeze your eyes shut.

It was just a hookup. So why does it feel like something’s breaking?

You take the next day off work.

You tell yourself it’s just a mental health day. Nothing to do with the hookup you can’t stop thinking about. Nothing to do with the pretty girl you saw Hyun-ju laughing with at the boba shop. Nothing to do with how you spent half the night swiping through a hookup all only to cry yourself to sleep hugging your stuffed bear.

Nope. Not at all.

So you go shopping.

Retail therapy. That’s what people call it, right? You put on your cutest spring cardigan, gloss your lips, and head downtown to your favorite boutiques. You touch silky dresses, oversize bows, sparkly claw clips. You wander slowly through pastel aisles of blushes and creams and shimmer-stick highlighters that promise to make your cheeks “dewy like fresh strawberries.”

And for a little while, you do feel better. A little lighter.

In the dressing room, you try on a little pleated skirt with a lace trimmed pink top, the kind that hugs your curves and shows just a hint of cleavage. You try not to dwell on how tight it is around your middle–or how you keep posing at angles that look more like your profile photos than your actual reflection.

But when you twirl once and catch sight of yourself in the mirror–soft thighs, plush tummy, the shimmer on your cheeks catching the light–you pause.

You look…cute. Like a cupcake with a pulse.

You whisper, “Okay. Not so bad,” and take a picture before you change.

Next stop: lingerie.

It wasn’t part of the plan, but you wander in anyway, drawn to a matching set in strawberry pink–a balconette bra with little embroidered hearts and a soft, satiny panty with ribbon ties at the hips. You buy it before you can talk yourself out of it.

You’re just tucking it into your shopping bag when your phone buzzes in your purse. You ignore it at first.

But then–something…prickles. A gut feeling. You pull out your phone and glance at the screen.

Hyun-ju.

Your heart stumbles. Your thumb freezes mid-scroll. You tap.

can i come over tonight? need to taste you again, soft thing. been thinking about your thighs all fucking day.

You stand dead still in the middle of Sephora, clutching your phone like it might explode. Your knees nearly buckle. Your brain goes static. Every insecurity from the last 48 hours–the hookup app, the girls who didn’t want you, the way you felt like a placeholder in someone else’s night–all of it vanishes under the heat of ten little words.

She wants you. She still wants you.

You bite your lip and read it again. And again. Your whole body feels warm–cheeks flushed, thighs pressed together, chest rising faster.

You don’t even think before you type. First, you send your address.

i’ll leave the door unlocked. i bought something new. pink and pretty. just for you.🫣

You don’t even wait for a reply. You’re already hurrying home, clutching the lingerie bag like a secret pressed to your heart, already imagining the way her eyes will darken when she sees you.

You don’t even remember the walk home. Just flashes of traffic lights and the ghost of her messages still burning in your chest.

By the time you’re inside, you’re already shedding your jacket, your shoes, your nerves. The apartment is quiet–soft lighting from your little bunny lamp, a vanilla sugar candle flickering faintly on your nightstand. You toss your shopping bags on the bed and breathe in.

Okay.

You’ve got time. You need to get ready.

You peel off your clothes, lay them gently over your chair, and pad into the bathroom. You brush your hair until it falls glossy over your shoulders, smooth on a little shimmer lotion, then pull on the new set–soft pink, heart stitched, with those little satin ties that make you feel like a gift someone’s about to unwrap.

In the mirror, you pause. You look…nervous.

Flushed cheeks, bitten lips, your thighs touching sweetly at the top. The lingerie hugs your curves snug–and for a split second, the doubt creeps in.

Too much. Too thick. Too squishy. Too much.

But then you remember the way Hyun-ju looked at you–devoured you–with her eyes, her mouth, her hands. You remember the things she whispered with her lips against your belly. The way she gripped your thighs like she wanted to live between them.

You breathe out. Okay. You can do this.

You throw on your bunny robe, soft and oversized, and fluff your pillows. You set out a glass of water on your nightstand (just in case), light another candle, and pull the curtains closed.

Then you sit on the edge of your bed, heart racing, robe still open just enough to show the pink lace beneath–and you wait.

You don’t know what tonight means. You only know she’s coming. And that you want her to ruin you softly.

You hear the knock and nearly jump out of your skin.

Your robe’s barely tied. Your cheeks are already hot. You open the door, heart in your throat. And there she is.

Hyun-ju stands there in a long coat and boots, hair down, eyes dragging over you with heat that makes your knees wobble. Her gaze drops to the pale pink peeking through your robe, then back up–slowly, purposefully.

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “Answering the robe in your little bunny pajamas. Trying to kill me?”

You try to speak–to joke, to flirt back–but it’s like your voice gets lost somewhere in your chest. Hyun-ju steps forward, closes the door behind her with a soft click, and cups your face in one warm hand.

“I missed this,” she says softly. “Missed you.”

And then she’s kissing you. It’s not sweet, not at first–it’s hungry, hands finding the curve of your waist, tugging at your robe. She guides you backward, step by step, until your knees hit the edge of the bed.

And then? Then it’s a blur.

Your robe is peeled off. Her mouth between your thighs, her voice filthy and reverent as she praises every part of you. She kisses your belly like it’s holy. Moans into the softness of your thighs like she’s starving. Tells you you’re so pretty like this, legs open, pussy soaked, voice cracking under her tongue.

You’re still breathless when she finally curls into you, fingers drawing lazy shapes on your bare hip, hair messy against your shoulder. Lips still kiss bitten, and you can feel the warmth of her skin pressed to yours in all the softest places.

Her voice comes low, a little teasing. “You gonna let me strap you?”

You choke on your breath, heart lurching. “W-what?” Your cheeks go hot. You glance down at her, wide-eyed.

She grins against your skin, chin nudging your chest. “I said,” she repeats, pressing a kiss to the swell of your breast, “are you gonna let me fuck you from behind tonight?”

You hide your face in your hands with a mortified little squeak. “I don’t–I’ve never–I mean, I don’t even own toys.”

Hyun-ju hums, clearly delighted. “Oh, we’re changing that.” Her voice drops a bit, playful but hungry. “Girl, you’re in for a treat. I’m gonna have you seeing stars.”

Your stomach does flips. You don’t know if it’s the nerves or excitement, or some wild alchemy of both.

Hyun-ju stretches lazily across the bed, her gin devilish. “You really don’t have any toys?”

You shake your head, shy. “No. Never really…thought I’d need them.”

She hums. “That’s adorable. Tragic–but adorable.”

Then, with a smug little look, she rolls off the bed and unzips her backpack, casually pulling out a small black harness with a toy already snapped in place.

Your jaw drops. “You brought it?” Your eyes snap from the strap back to Hyun-ju. “So you mean like…you’re gonna…now?”

“Of course I did,” she says, amused as she begins stripping out of her clothes. “What, you thought I was bluffing?”

You stare at her, stunned, throat dry as she steps into the harness and tightens the straps at her hips with practiced ease. Your heart hammers. She looks so sure of herself–strong, sexy, in control–and when she catches your eye, her smile softens, just a little.

“You still okay, baby?” she asks gently. “We don’t have to.”

You nod. Too quickly. “Yes. I–I want to.”

“Good girl,” she murmurs. “Get on your hands and knees for me.”

You scramble into position, heart in your throat, burying your face in the pillows to hide your embarrassment–but you can feel how wet you are already, thighs trembling. Then you feel her behind you–warm hands smoothing your hips, kneading at the softness there. She groans low under her breath.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” Hyun-ju breaths. “Look at this perfect ass. All this soft skin just for me.” She drags her hands along the curve of your waist, your stomach, your thighs–squeezing, admiring. “You’re unreal.”

You gasp when you feel the head of the toy rub between your folds. She takes her time, letting it guide through your slick, spreading you gently.

Then she sinks in.

The stretch has you gasping, arms shaking as you brace yourself, and she leans over your back, kissing along your spine. “There you go, baby,” she whispers, “taking me so good already.”

Her hips pull back, then roll forward again, slow and deliberate. You moan into the sheet, and Hyun-ju groans behind you.

“Look at how perfect you are. Fuck, I love watching this–your pretty body bouncing for me. You feel so fucking good.”

Her rhythm picks up. One hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back, she grips your shoulder as she fucks into you harder. Every thrust makes you cry out, breath breaking.

You reach back without thinking–desperate, overwhelmed–and Hyun-ju catches your hand instantly, pressing it into the small of your back and holding you down. “Oh no, bunny,” she pants, “you stay right there. Let me take care of you.”

She pounds into you now, filthy and relentless, the slick sounds of your body filling the room.

You’re a mess, babbling into the mattress. “C-can’t–feels so–so good–”

“Yes you can, soft girl. You’re doing so good for me. Fuck, I could fuck you forever.” Her voice is thick, adoring, and a little ragged. “I love this body. Love the way you looked wrapped around me like this.”

Your legs are trembling. Your voice breaks. “Gonna–gonna cum–Hyun-ju I–”

“Do it,” she groans, pounding deep. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You cry out, body locking up as the orgasm crashes over you–loud, helpless, ruined. Hyun-ju doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, gasping, tears slipping from your eyes. Then finally, finally, she slows, hips rocking gently as she eases you through it.

You collapse into the sheets, boneless and shaking, and she leans over to kiss the back of your neck, whispering, “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

It doesn’t end after that night.

Hyun-ju keeps showing up–some nights with a bottle of wine, others with nothing but that cocky little grin and the promise of a good time. Sometimes she stays until morning. Sometimes she leaves right after, tugging on her hoodie and pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out into the dark. But always, she texts. Always, she comes back.

You don’t talk about what it means. You don’t ask. But you feel it.

In the way she pulls you into her lap at your kitchen table. In how she cooks you breakfast without asking where anything is. In the way she laughs with her whole body when you trip over your words trying to compliment her, teasing. “You got it bad, huh, bunny?”

You try not to let it show. You try.

But it builds anyway.

It’s in the little things–like how your phone lights up with her name and your heart stutters. Or how your breath catches when she calls you ‘baby’ in that low, warm voice. Or how she starts leaving her hoodie draped on the back of your chair, her shampoo in your shower.

And then one lazy afternoon, you’re out with her at some tiny boutique, giggling as you both try on ridiculous clothes that are way too expensive. She snaps a candid photo of you in the mirror–half laughing in an oversized sweater that swallows you whole.

Later, you see it on her story:

Mine🍓

No tags. Just you.

Your stomach flips.

That night, you’re curled up in bed, overthinking everything, her hoodie pulled over your bare legs. You hover over your keyboard for twenty minutes before finally sending it.

what are we hyunnie?

The typing bubble appears right away.

well, bunny…what do you want this to be?

And just like that, you forget how to breathe.

You stare at your phone, pulse thudding. You almost don’t want to keep going. You could leave it there, let it hang. Pretend you were joking. But something aches behind your ribs, loud and stubborn.

You type slow, fingers shaking a little.

idk. i mean i like this…you. i trust you but, how do i know you’re not seeing someone else?

Three dots. Then nothing. Then dots again. You swallow hard.

i saw you that day at the boba shop. with that girl. you looked…happy.

And then you wait. You start spiraling before she even responds. God, you think, I sound insane. Possessive. Needy. It’s not like we’re even dating. She doesn’t owe me anything. I’m just some dumb girl she hooks up with–

The screen lights up.

call me, bunny.

Your breath catches. You reread it twice. Call me? Your thumb hovers. Your stomach twists into knots.

i don’t want to bother you if you’re busy…

But your phone’s already ringing. Her name glows on your screen. Your heart pounds like a trapped animal. You hesitate–then answer.

“Hey,” you breathe.

“Hi, bunny.” Her voice is soft. Familiar. It slides through your chest like a warm knife. You don’t know what to say.

“You’re jealous,” she says, and it’s not cruel or smug. Just honest.

“I’m not…trying to be,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“It’s just…” Your voice wobbles. “That girl. She was really pretty.”

A pause. Then, “That’s my ex.”

Your heart stutters. Your tone comes out harsher than you mean for it to. “You hang out with your ex?”

“Yeah.” Hyun-ju sighs. “Look, we went through a lot together. She was there for me when shit was really bad. Like, scary bad. You wouldn’t understand.”

You don’t say anything. You’re still trying to process it–how casual she sounds. Like it’s normal. Like it shouldn’t matter. But it does. It really does.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Hyun-ju says. “We haven’t been together in years. But she…gets me. And I don’t have a lot of people like that.”

You nod even though she can’t see you. You want to believe her. You do. But something twists tight in your chest.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else,” she adds quietly.

You just hum, too unsure to say anything more.

There’s a pause. Then she speaks again, a little sharper. “You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You chew your lip, eyes stinging. “I don’t wanna mess this up,” you whisper. “I just don’t know what I am to you. And that scares me.”

Another breath. This time slower. Gentler. “Bunny,” she murmurs, “you don’t have to be scared. You want something more, just say it. I’ll show up.”

There’s a long silence on the line. You can feel her breathing, low and even. Like she’s trying to decide what to say next.

You bite your lip. Then it just slips out. “Even if you’re not sleeping with her, you’re…emotionally invested. And I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Another silence. Then she sighs. It’s not sharp, not angry. Just…tired.

“I’ll tell you about it some other time,” she says finally. “It’s not something I wanna talk about right now.”

Your heart sinks. “Will you ever be ready?” you ask softly. “Or are you just using that to keep me around?”

The silence changs. It freezes. Sharpens. You can practically hear her jaw tighten through the phone.

Then a quiet, bitter laugh. “I don’t have time for this.”

And the line goes dead. You stare at your screen, blinking. The call ended. No goodbye. No explanation. Just a cold silence ringing in your ears and the sudden, crushing weight of regret curling in your gut.

Hyun-ju stares at her phone long after the call ends.

She presses the heel of her palm to her eyes. Her chest is tight. Her thoughts, louder than usual.

Why did she hang up?

Why the hell did she do that?

She opens her contacts, scrolls down, hesitates. Then taps.

“Hey,” comes the voice on the other end, warm and familiar in a way that cuts through the static in her head.

Hyun-ju swallows. “You busy?”

There’s a pause. Then, “What happened?”

She exhales sharply. “It’s the girl. Bunny.”

Another pause.

“She asked about you,” Hyun-ju mutters, thumb tracing anxious circles on the seam of her sweatpants. “Saw us at the boba shop, freaked out. She thinks I’m emotionally invested in you.”

“Well,” her ex says carefully, “you are. Just not the way she thinks.”

Hyun-ju lets out a frustrated groan. “Yeah, but–fuck, I didn’t know what to say. She asked if I’d ever be ready to talk about it. And I just…froze.”

Her ex hums. “You always do, when it matters.”

Hyun-ju goes quiet.

“You have to remember,” her ex continues gently, “not everyone keeps talking to their ex years after the breakup. You guys are barely a thing and she’s already doubting if she can trust you. That’s not her fault. You’re asking her to believe in something you haven’t even explained.”

“I know,” Hyun-ju says softly. “I know, I just…I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Then don’t.” Hyun-ju goes to speak but is quickly cut off. “Talk to her,” her ex says. “Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it’s hard. You’ve never told anyone, I get that. But if you don’t want to lose her–really lose her–you have to let her see you. All of you. Or else she’s gonna walk.”

“And if she doesn’t understand?”

There’s a beat. A breath. Then, “Then she was never good for you in the first place.”

Hyun-ju nods to herself, even though her chest aches at the thought. “Thanks,” she whispers.

Her ex is quiet. Then she says, with a little fondness in her voice, “She better be good to you.”

Hyun-ju’s messages come in quick succession.

bunny please can we talk i didn’t mean to hang up i just panicked i’m not good at this shit but i swear i’m not lying to you please don’t hate me

You read them all with your phone face down beside you, screen lighting up again and again. You don’t respond. Not because you’re angry–but because if you say something now, it might come out too sharp, too insecure, too much.

So you stay quiet. Pull your knees to your chest. Breathe through the ache in your throat. You try to sleep, but it doesn’t come.

And when 2:07am blinks back at you from your phone screen, you give in. Your thumb hovers, then taps her contact.

It rings once. Twice.

A sleepy voice answers. “Bunny?”

Her voice is low, scratchy with sleep. You can hear the confusion and the softness both. It twists something in your gut.

“I wanna talk,” you whisper. “Can we have lunch tomorrow?”

You hear the sound of rustling sheets. “Yeah. Of course. Anywhere you want.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Are you okay?”

You close your eyes. “I don’t know.”

Hyun-ju’s voice drops even softer. “Thank you for calling me.”

You let that sit between you, quiet but honest. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” she repeats. “Tomorrow.”

You hang up before you can say anything else.

You spot her before she sees you–tucked into the corner of the cafe, hood up over her dark hair, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket. Her eyes flick up and land on you, and she straightens a little in her seat.

She doesn’t stand. Doesn’t open her arms like she usually does. And somehow, that feels worse than if she’d looked away entirely.

So you step forward. Wrap your arms around her shoulders and lean down into the hug, holding tight like maybe that will say what you haven’t been able to.

Hyun-ju exhales, relief softening her body against you as her arms come up slowly to hug you back. Then you both sit.

You’re in a big sweater, sleeves pulled down past your knuckles, leggings soft from too many washes. Your hair’s up in a messy clip that you didn’t really try with. You didn’t have it in you to dress up.

Neither of you says anything for a while. You pick at your food. She sips her iced coffee too fast and sets it down with a quiet clink.

Then– “I’m insecure,” you say quietly.

Hyun-ju blinks, lips parting like she’s about to reassure you.

But you shake your head. “No. Please listen.”

She nods and her mouth shuts.

“I’m insecure,” you repeat. “And I want to hear you out. I swear I do. I promise to listen. And try to understand. But…” Your voice falters, and you wrap your fingers tighter around the cup in front of you. “You have to see my side too. You can’t just expect me to be okay when I don’t know what’s going on. When I see things and make assumptions and then sit in it alone.”

Hyun-ju’s expression shifts–like something tight in her has just been touched. She looks down for a second, lashes low.

“I’m not mad at you,” you whisper. “I’m just scared.”

Shet lets out a slow breath, then looks up at you. Really looks. “Okay,” she says, voice low. “Let me explain. Everything.”

Hyun-ju holds her coffee between both hands, staring down at the melting ice like it might tell her what to say.

“She was my first serious girlfriend,” she says finally. Her voice is cautious. “Her name’s Jina.”

You don’t interrupt.

“At that time, well…” Her jaw works for a second, like she’s chewing on the words, trying to decide how much to give you. “So I am…I mean–well, you see–”

You reach across the table and gently brush your fingers over hers. Just once. Just to say, it’s okay, take your time.

Hyun-ju glances up, and whatever she sees in your face–steady, patient, open–it gives her the strength to keep going.

“When I came out as trans,” she says, and she doesn’t look away this time, “she was the only one there for me.”

Your heart catches. The way she says it–like it cost her something just to speak those words aloud.

“She helped me through my transition. Let me crash at her place when I got kicked out. Took me to my doctor’s appointments. Helped me pick out my name. And when I–when I got too low, when I…” her voice wavers, and she looks away, blinking fast. “I was so depressed. I didn’t think I’d make it. But Jina kept me safe. From everything. From…myself.”

There’s a silence. A gentle, painful silence that hangs between you like fog.

“I’m here now,” she says finally. “That’s what matters. But we couldn’t keep dating. She found someone else. And…we just fell apart.”

She huffs a soft, dry laugh. “I let her go. Romantically, I mena. But it’s hard to let someone go who was there for something like that.”

Your throat aches. You reach for her hand again, this time properly, and she lets you hold it. You squeeze it gently. And say, “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry for not listening last night,” you say quietly, your thumb brushing her knuckles. “I was…overwhelmed. And jealous. And scared. But that doesn’t excuse it.”

Hyun-ju shrugs, but you see the tension leave her shoulders–just a little. “I get it,” she murmurs. “I do.”

You smile, soft and a little shaky. “You’re so beautiful, Hyun-ju. And I really appreciate you telling me. For sharing that with me. That’s…not easy. But I’m glad you let me in.”

She exhales like she’s been holding her breath this whole time, gaze flicking down lips twitching with the ghost of a smile.

“Yeah, well,” she mutters, “you asked.”

You both laugh–quiet, a little awkward, a little relieved.

“So…we’re okay?” she asks after a moment, like she doesn’t want to hope too hard.

You nod. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

A beat passes. Then Hyun-ju grins. “That means we can go back to my place and I can eat you out, right?”

Your face flushes, and you groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

She giggles, bright and playful. “What? Emotional vulnerability makes me horny.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling now–something soft and full and real blooming warm in your chest.

The door clicks shut, and before you can say a word, Hyun-ju’s hands are on your waist, sliding under your sweater with that familiar heat in her touch.

“You’re mine tonight, soft girl,” she murmurs, lip brushing your neck. “All mine.”

You barely nod before she kisses you–slow and deep, like she’s been starving. She tugs you toward the bed, helping you out of your leggings and sweater until you’re bare beneath her gaze. Her eyes roam you, hungry and tender, taking in your soft stomach, the stretch of your thighs, the curve of your hips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she breathes, sinking to her knees at the edge of the bed.

You squirm instinctively, thighs pressing together. “Hyun-ju…”

She gently coaxes your legs apart. “Shh. Let me look at you.”

She kisses the inside of one knee, then the other, moving slowly upward. Every press of her mouth is reverent, worshipful, and it makes your skin burn.

“You know how crazy you drive me?” she says, voice low. “All this softness…fuck. Your tummy, your thighs, these perfect tits–” she cups them with warm palms, thumbs brushing your nipples, “–I wanna live between your legs, baby girl.”

You whimper, head thrown back.

Then she lowers herself, breath hot against your center. Her tongue flicks out once–just a tease–and then she groans like she’s the one being touched. “God, you taste so good.”

She licks you slowly, languidly, like she has all the time in the world. You grab at the sheets, hips jerking, but she holds you down with firm hands on your hips.

“Relax,” she says, grinning against you. “Let me take care of you.”

She dives in deeper, tongue swirling around your clit, slow and relentless. She moans into you like she can’t get enough, her arms wrapped around your thighs, her hands kneading your hips and the soft swell of your tummy.

“I love how your body feels under my hands,” she murmurs between licks. “So plush. So perfect. I could eat you for hours.”

You cry out, trembling. “Hyun-ju–oh god–please–”

“Mmm. That’s it. Let me hear, you bunny.”

She sucks your clit, gentle at first, then harder–rhythmic, greedy. She slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and your whole body arches off the mattress with a sob.

“Gonna cum for me?” she whispers, pressing kisses into your thighs. “Let me feel you fall apart. I want it all–every noise, every shake, every drop. You’re so perfect when you break.”

You do. You come hard, legs clamping around her head, mouth falling open in a scream. She doesn’t stop–doesn’t even slow down–tongue still lapping at your clit, drinking in everything you give her like she needs it to live.

You’re wrecked. Shaking. Gasping for breath.

And she only pulls away to kiss your trembling thighs, then your stomach, then up your body until she’s holding you, cradling you against her chest. “You’re everything I want,” she murmurs against your hair. “Every inch of you.”

Your body’s still twitching from the last orgasm, legs boneless and shaky where they rest over Hyun-ju’s thighs. She hasn’t moved far–just enough to press soft, grounding kisses to your cheeks, your collarbone, your chest.

But her eyes? Still hungry.

Her fingers trace idle patterns over your stomach. “You good, sweet girl?”

You nod, dazed. “Mhm.”

Hyun-ju grins. “You think you’re done?”

You blink, lips parting. “I–I thought…”

She shakes her head, leaning to kiss your shoulder, your throat. “No, no. You’re too pretty for just one.” Her voice is a low, lazy purr now. “I need more. Need to feel you cum on my tongue again. Wanna make you cry this time.”

You shiver, heat blooming in your belly again so fast it leaves you breathless. Hyun-ju eases your thighs apart, eyes locked on your soaked, glistening center. “Fuck. Still so wet for me.”

She slides down the bed and hooks your legs over her shoulders this time. Her hands knead your hips, then trail upward–palms smoothing over your soft stomach, up to your tits, which she squeezes, massaging them gently.

“Look at you,” she whispers. “Laid out like a dream. In my fucking bed. You gonna let me ruin you again, bunny?”

You nod, wide eyed, breath caught in your throat.

“Words.”

“Yes, Hyunnie. Please, Hyunnie.”

She doesn’t make you wait. Her mouth is back on you, but this time it’s needy–filthy. She tongues your clit in frantic circles, messily, greedily, moaning into you like she’s starved. You gasp, thighs trembling against her shoulders as she devours you.

Your hands fly to her hair, gripping tight. “Hyun–f-fuck–”

“That’s it,” she pants against you. “So sensitive already. God, I fucking love it. Love how sweet you taste. How soft you are under me.”

You cry out, hips jerking, and she just groans, holding you down and going deeper–flicking her tongue fast, then flattening it, then sucking your clit with the perfect amount of pressure until you’re choking on moans.

Your second orgasm builds hard and fast, overwhelming. You feel it cresting–tight and hot–and you babble something incoherent, tugging on her hair like you’re drowning.

Hyun-ju just hums smugly. “Cum for me again, baby. Wanna see you shake. Wanna taste everything.”

You break.

Your whole body goes taut, then collapses as your orgasm crashes through you, even stronger than the last. You sob her name, thighs clenching tight around her head as she licks you through it, not letting up even for a second.

You’re trembling, gasping, your fingers tangled in her hair, and she stays there–pressing kisses into your soaked folds, your thighs, your tummy, until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation.

When she finally crawls back up to hold you, you’re flushed, dazed, messy with sweat and slick. “Still with me?” she teases, voice husky.

You nod, burying your face in her neck, and she kisses your cheek gently.

“I could do that all night,” she whispers. “You’re so good, bunny girl. So fucking perfect.”

The bathroom fills with steam, the air thick and hazy as you step under the spray with Hyun-ju behind you. Warm water rushes down your back, soothing your spent, aching body–but you barely notice it. Not with Hyun-ju’s hands all over.

“God,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “I can’t handle you. These perfect fucking tits.” She cups them tighter, thumbing your nipples until they’re pebbled and sensitive all over again. “This ass.” Her hands slide down, kneading your hips, your backside. “You’re unreal.”

You let out a breathy moan, already melting back into her.

Hyun-ju hums, biting lightly at your shoulder. “You okay for another round, baby?”

You nod, needy and breathless. “Please.”

Her laugh is dark, pleased. “Yeah? Wanna cum for me again, right here in the shower?” Her hand dips lower, between your thighs, fingers sliding through your folds. “Still so wet,” she teases, even though the water’s pouring over you both. “Always so ready for me.”

You whimper when she starts rubbing slow, steady circles over your clit, leaning forward to brace yourself on the shower wall. She presses up behind you, one arm around your waist to steady you as she works you open again.

“You’re so good for me,” she murmurs, mouth hot against your ear. “So sweet. Letting me touch you like this. Letting me make you feel good.”

Your hips buck into her hand, every word shooting straight to your core.

“You like it like this?” she asks, slipping a finger inside you, then another. “Bent over for me? Taking what I give you like a good girl?”

“Y-yes, fuck–”

She scissors her fingers, curling them expertly until your whole body is trembling, your moans echoing against the tile.

“That’s it,” she pants. “I wanna feel you cum on my hand this time. Wanna feel your pussy clench while I fuck you like this.”

You’re almost there–again–already.

Hyun-ju senses it. She presses her body tighter to yours, rutting gently against your ass with a low groan. “Cum for me again, soft girl. Show me how much more you can take.”

You shatter. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, your cry muffled against your arm as you jerk and twitch against her hand. Hyun-ju holds you through it, praising you the whole time–so pretty, so good, so perfect–until you’re trembling in her arms.

She kisses your shoulder, then your jaw, then your lips.

“That’s three,” she whispers. “You think you’ve got another in you, or should I carry you to bed and spoil you some more.”

You’re still catching your breath when Hyun-ju kisses your neck again, leaving dark bruises along your skin, nuzzling against your skin with a soft chuckle. “God, baby,” she breathes, fingers sliding slow and sticky between your legs, teasing your folds again. “You’re already so sensitive…”

You whimper, thighs trembling. “I-I don’t know if I can–”

“Yeah, you can,” she whispers, mouth at your ear. “I know you can. You’re doing so good for me.”

She drops to her knees right there in the shower, hands gripping your thighs as she spreads them apart again. Water runs down your stomach, between your breasts, trailing over your soaked cunt–and Hyun-ju watches it like it’s divine.

“Let me see,” she murmurs, licking her lips before she leans in. “Let me have it again.”

Then her mouth is on you, tongue moving in slow, firm circles over your clit, fingers sliding back inside you like they never left. You gasp–your whole body already over sensitive–but her touch is practiced, knowing, relentless. Her fingers fuck up into you swith a steady rhythm, curling just right. Her mouth works you faster, wetter, until your head is tipped back and your cries echo off the tile.

“Tha-that’s too much–Hyun-ju, I–”

She groans into your pussy. “That’s it,” she pants, fingers pounding faster, her voice thick and reverent. “That’s what I want. Gimme one more. C’mon, bunny–I know you feel it.”

You do. It’s building too fast, pressure pooling deep in your belly, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. It’s more intense than anything you’ve ever felt–raw and dangerous and just barely on the edge of too much.

You cry out as the wave crests.

“I got you,” Hyun-ju moans, mouth never leaving you. “Come on, let go. Let go for me, baby–”

And you snap. Your body convulses as you cum, harder than you ever have before–legs buckling, eyes rolling back. You scream, and something inside you releases. Warmth gushes from you in pulses, soaking her mouth, her hand, the tile beneath you.

“Ohhh fuck yes,” Hyun-ju groans, sounding wrecked. “That’s it. That’s it, baby–fuck, that’s what I wanted. Look at you. Look at how good you’re doing for me.”

You’re gasping, shaking, overwhelmed. She slows her fingers but doesn’t stop–just words you through the aftershocks with soft murmurs and hungry kisses to your thighs. Her voice is full of awe.

“You squirted for me,” she says, kissing your shaking thighs. “You fucking squirted, baby. You’re unreal.”

You slump against the shower wall, panting, your skin flushed all over. “I–I didn’t even know I could–”

Hyun-ju kisses your hip, then looks up at you with the filthiest grin you’ve ever seen. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”

Hyun-ju towels you off slowly, lovingly–pressing kisses to your thighs, your belly, your collarbone between each gentle pat. When you finally stumble out of the bathroom, she’s already pulled one of her oversized shirts from the drawer, sliding it over your head with a quiet, “There we go. That’s better.”

It smells like her. You melt into it instantly.

She helps you into bed–pulling the covers up, smoothing your hair off your forehead–and then slides in beside you, curling her body around yours like you’re something precious. Her hands stroke up and down your side beneath the shirt, lingering at your waist, your hip, the curve of your belly.

“You okay?” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, cheeks warm. “More than okay.”

Hyun-ju hums, fingers still tracing your skin. “You were so good for me. So beautiful. You know that, right?”

You hide your face in her chest, shy but glowing. “Stop…”

“I mean it,” she says, tipping your chin up. “I love your body. Every inch. The way you sound, the way you move, the way you feel. I think about it all the time.”

You bite your lip, heart racing in your chest. Her eyes are soft–unguarded in a way that makes your breath catch.

And then quietly, almost like a secret, you say, “Can I tell you my favorite things about you?”

Her brows lift in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You inhale, then glance down at her fingers still resting on your hip. “I like how you touch me,” you begin softly. “How gentle you are when you don’t have to be. Like…when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Hyun-ju doesn’t say anything. Just listens.

“I like your laugh,” you add. “When you laugh so hard you crinkle your nose. And how you always smell like citrus and something warm. And how you remember everything I say, even the little things.”

Your voice lowers. “And I like your body too, Hyunnie. You’re so strong. I like your arms. Your shoulders. Your back. Your abs.” You flush a little. “Sometimes I stare when you’re not looking. You just…look like someone I feel safe with.”

You look up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable. “And I like the way you look at me. Like you’re letting me see something no one else gets to.”

Her mouth parts–like maybe she wants to say something–but she just exhales instead and wraps her arms around you, pulling you in.

She kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. “You’re gonna break my heart,” she whispers, smiling faintly.

You bury your face in her chest again, voice barely audible. “Then at least you’ll know you had it.”

She holds you tighter.

The silence stretches between you, soft and drowsy. Her fingers trace idle shapes along your spine, the slow rhythm lulling you into that fragile place where truth comes easy.

You lift your head just slightly, just enough to see her eyes. “Hyunnie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods, brushing her thumb along your cheek. “Anything.”

You swallow, voice small. “Do you…want this to be more than just hookups?”

Hyun-ju’s hand stills. She blinks once, lips parting. “Do you?”

You meet her gaze, trying not to flinch from how exposed you feel. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I do.”

For a moment, she just stares at you–like she doesn’t quite believe it.

“You really want…me?” she says quietly. Her voice is raw, unsure in a way you’ve never heard before.

You nod. “I like being with you. Not just in bed. I like you. And I want to see where this goes. If you do.”

She lets out a slow breath, eyes searching yours. Then–so gently–she leans in to kiss you. Not hungry, not desperate. Just…real.

When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against yours. “Okay,” she whispers.. “Let’s try. If you’re in, I’m in.”

You smile, curling closer into her chest. Her arm wraps around your waist, holding you against her like she means it.

“Good,” you murmur. “Just…don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“I won’t,” she replies. “Not unless you ask me to.”

You fall asleep with her heartbeat under your cheek, her hand warm on your back, and something new–tentative and bright–blooming quietly in your chest.

a/n - i hope you all enjoyed!! hyun-ju is literally just the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. I just know she worships her partner for sure ;)

taglist - @jeongteen

#squid game #squid game x y/n #alternate universe #cho hyun ju x reader #hyun ju #hyun ju x reader #cho hyun ju #player 120 #player 120 x reader #cho hyunju x reader #hyunju x reader #cho hyunju #hyun ju squid game #cho hyun ju smut #player 120 squid game #squid game imagines #squid game fanfic #squid game 2

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urbrunettebombshell · 5 months ago

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NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE - Part 2

Part 1

Rafe Cameron x FemReader

Summary: After a gut wrenching realization, Rafe Cameron has nothing left to lose, only reader.

Warnings: 18+, jealousy, angst, mental health issues, suicidal themes, mention of eating disorder.

Important info: this is my second writing piece. still extremely personal. also english is not my first language. hope you enjoy it :) (not my gif!)

P.S.: the idea of writing this came from a character.ai bot (_nietakt on the app). not a single word in this was written by a bot! i took the initial idea of reader seeing Rafe and another girl at a bonfire. let me know if you have a problem with that.

Rafe hadn’t slept a single wink. He'd been too worried about her, her skin so cold when he'd carried her out of the water. Now, watching her sleep in his bed, a sense of relief washed over him. She was safe, at least for now.

He stood by the door, arms wrapped tightly around himself, silently watching her as she slept. The faint light of the morning sun seeped through the curtains, gently illuminating her face, but it only seemed to deepen the emptiness in the room. He remained there, motionless, as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness of the moment. His gaze lingered on her, tracing the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, a rhythm that felt so distant, so foreign to him now. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the weight of the quiet room. The sunlight, soft and pale, seemed to mock the darkness that had taken root in his heart.

Despite that, her body throbbed with a slow, unbearable ache. Her heart and lungs felt too heavy to bear; her head pounded as if she had collided with concrete. Every breath felt like a struggle, each minor movement a battle against the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. The world around her seemed muffled, distant, as if she were trapped in a fog that wouldn’t lift, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the relentless ache.

But the soft mattress was comforting. The familiar scent of the sheets, the faint trace of him, wrapped around her like a fragile embrace, offering a fleeting sense of peace. The warmth of the room, the quiet hum of the world outside, felt so much like home, even though home had long ago become a place she didn’t recognize.

She opened her eyes to find him standing there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on her with a quiet intensity. He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in sweats, but there was something in the way he held himself that told her he hadn’t slept. Not a single ounce of rest had touched him. She didn’t speak. The silence between them felt suffocating, as if any word spoken could shatter the fragile stillness that had settled in the room. She was scared — scared of what might come next, of what that look in his eyes might mean.

Rafe's breath caught in his throat as her eyes fluttered open. He'd been standing there for what felt like hours, watching the rise and fall of her chest, making sure she was okay. He pushed off from the doorframe and approached the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of it. His eyes remained fixated on her, his expression a mixture of relief and concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

When he sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sank slightly under his weight and her heart clenched in fear. A mix of longing and dread twisted inside her. She wanted him closer, desperately so, but she knew deep down that if he didn’t keep his distance, she would never be able to move on. She could never heal if he was too near.

She had always been weak when it came to him, her resolve crumbling the moment he was within arm’s reach. She folded so fast, every guard she built collapsing, every promise to herself shattering in the blink of an eye. The pull between them was magnetic, and no matter how many times she tried to push it away, it always found its way back, leaving her lost in the wreckage of her emotions.

“Weird,” she answered him in a whisper. She was feeling every little emotion yet nothing at all. Maybe she was just waiting for her heart to be broken again.

Rafe chuckled softly at her reply, his eyes never leaving her face. He shifted closer, reaching out and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead, his touch tentative yet tender.

“Yeah, I imagined you would feel pretty weird after last night,” he said, his voice quiet. He paused, his expression turning serious as he spoke. “You had me pretty worried, you know that?”

That chuckle was the death of her. It echoed in her chest, a sound that stirred something deep inside, something she had buried long ago. And when his finger brushed against her forehead, she couldn’t help but let out a soft, shaky sigh. Any crumb of attention from him felt like heaven on earth, like she could finally breathe again after holding her breath for so long.

“I didn’t…” she started saying, her voice barely above a whisper, but his serious expression stopped her mid-sentence, the weight of it pressing down like a stone. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her emotions felt like they were on the edge of breaking. Her eyebrows furrowed, the tension growing inside. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words tasting bitter on her tongue, even though she didn’t fully understand what she was apologizing for. Maybe it was just the silence between them, or the way things had always been — broken, but never enough to end.

Rafe shook his head, his hand still resting gently against her face. “No, don’t apologize. You don’t need to apologize,” he paused, his eyes searching her face, taking in every detail. He wanted to memorize every little nuance, every little mark, every fleck of color in her eyes, as if each detail was a piece of something precious, something he could never forget. The way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the glimmer that flickered when her emotions shifted — it was all so much a part of her, yet so easily lost in the passing of time.

He leaned in slightly, as if trying to capture it all, the very essence of who she was, holding onto the way she looked in this moment. He was afraid that once it slipped away, it would be gone forever, that the memory would fade like a dream upon waking. Every slight movement, every breath she took, felt sacred to him, as if he was witnessing something fragile and irreplaceable. “Just…don’t scare me like that again,” his voice was firm but not harsh, filled with a mix of concern and a hint of scolding.

She allowed herself to take a long, unhurried look at all his features, every single detail she had memorized and loved so deeply. The curve of his jaw, the softness of his lips, the way his cerulean eyes held a quiet intensity even when he wasn’t speaking — each part of him felt familiar, yet it all made her heart ache in ways she couldn’t explain.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, filled with frustration, as the thought of losing him all over again gnawed at her insides. It was a fear she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried to push it away. The thought of the distance between them growing again, of things unraveling like they always did, was almost too much to bear. She could feel the tears threatening to rise, but she held them back, desperate to keep some semblance of control, even though everything inside her was breaking.

She wanted to apologize for being a burden last night, for all the things she couldn’t say or control, for the way she had let her emotions spill over, overwhelming them both. She wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore, that she would find a way to step back, to let him go without dragging him deeper into her mess. She longed to say that he was free of her, that if he truly wanted to be, he didn’t have to stay. He could walk away and never look back. She would find a way to erase him from her heart, even if it felt impossible, even if every part of her screamed to hold on.

But the words stuck in her throat, heavy and suffocating. She couldn’t bring herself to say them. The fear of losing him, of pushing him away for good, paralyzed her. How could she let him go when he was all she had ever known? How could she let him walk away when she knew deep down she was nothing without him?

Rafe noticed the conflict in her eyes, the way she averted her gaze from his, and he could practically hear the thoughts racing through that mind of hers. He knew her like the back of his hand, and he knew what she was thinking. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek in his palm, drawing her focus back to him.

“Don’t start shutting me out again,” his voice was firm yet pleading. “Not after last night.”

Her body trembled when his palm cupped her cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her, forcing her to look him in the eye. He was so close once again, the space between them shrinking until it felt like the world outside had disappeared. But even with his face so near, it still wasn’t enough. The ache in her chest deepened, a longing that couldn’t be satisfied by just proximity, no matter how much she craved it.

And as she stared into his eyes, she wasn’t sure if it was entirely possible for them to ever exist again, to find that place where they could be what they once were. The fractures between them felt too deep, the silence too heavy, as if too much time had passed, too much damage had been done. The fear crept in, a gnawing thought that perhaps this was as close as they could get anymore — the edges of what they had, but never quite whole again.

“I never shut you down,” she scolded him, her voice sharper than she had meant, the words cutting through the silence more forcefully than she anticipated. She immediately regretted the tone, her chest tightening with the weight of it. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, her fingers trembling slightly as she held back the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“You left,” she continued, her voice quieter now, but still thick with hurt. “I just did what I could to cope with it.” The words tasted bitter as they left her lips, the truth of them stinging as she realized how much she had buried, how much she had tried to suppress. She had told herself it was fine, that she was fine, but the emptiness of those days without him had left scars she could never erase. She wanted him to understand, but part of her feared that even if he did, it might be too late for them to ever find their way back.

Rafe’s jaw clenches at her words, a pang of guilt stabbing through him as she reminds him of the fact he’d left. It was a truth he was all too aware of, one that haunted him every single day. “You think I don’t know that?” He asks, his voice strained. “You think I didn’t know how much I was hurting you when I left?” He lets out a shaky breath, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “I hated every goddamn minute of being away from you.”

She shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly to keep the tears from falling. It was hurting all over again, a familiar ache that twisted deep inside her, pulling at every fragile piece of her heart. She knew how hard it had been for him after losing his father, how he had struggled, how he had tried to carry the weight of it alone. She understood the pain, the grief that consumed him, and the way he had pushed everyone away, convinced that he was better off alone.

She knew he wasn’t doing well, that he was drowning in his own sorrow, afraid of pulling her down with him. But leaving her had been worse than all of that. The absence of him had left a void she couldn’t fill, and no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she would be okay, she wasn’t. His departure had fractured something inside her, something that hadn’t healed, something that no amount of time or distance could ever fix. It wasn’t just the leaving that hurt. It was the way he had cut himself off, the way he had silently decided that it was better to walk away than to let her in, even when she had been there, waiting for him to reach back. It was the feeling of being abandoned, not because he didn’t love her, but because he was convinced that loving her was too dangerous, too painful.

“Can we not?” She pleaded in a heartbeat. She couldn’t argue about that again, it was too much for her to handle.

Rafe’s heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest as he listened to the plea in her voice. The raw vulnerability there cut through him like a blade, each word a reminder of the damage he had caused, the silence he had let linger between them. He didn’t want to hurt her more; that was the last thing he ever wanted. The guilt that had been gnawing at him for so long twisted deeper, but he knew that ignoring it, pretending everything could go back to how it was, would only make it worse.

He drew in a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady himself, his hand still resting on her cheek, the warmth of her skin grounding him. He could feel her breath against him, the tension in her body, and it broke him to know that his actions had brought her to this point.

“No,” he said quietly, his voice firm but not harsh, careful not to let the pain in his chest spill over into his words. “We can’t just not talk about it.” His gaze softened slightly, his eyes searching her face, reading the fear, the sadness that she wore like a veil. He wanted to pull her close, to promise her everything would be okay, but he knew the truth: that wouldn’t fix this. The silence, the unspoken things between them — they needed to be confronted.

She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back the words that were threatening to spill out. She knew he wouldn’t like it if they talked about it, knew it would only make things worse. Hell, he would hate hearing her talk about it. The thought of confronting the truth — the things left unsaid, the hurt buried beneath his silence — made her stomach churn. He never liked being held accountable for his behavior, never liked facing the consequences of his actions. It was easier for him to retreat, to close off, to pretend like it never happened.

But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend, how much longer she could stay silent while everything between them crumbled. She had to say it. She had to make him see what he was doing to them, even if it meant pushing him further away. The weight of his avoidance was crushing her, and she knew if she didn’t speak now, she might never get the chance again.

“We will end up fighting,” she told him in a shaky tone, her fingers tracing his hand on her skin. “I’m not sure if I can keep fighting you.”

Rafe’s expression softened as she spoke, the touch of her fingers against his skin sending a jolt through him. He knew she was right — any mention of the topic would inevitably lead to a fight. But he couldn’t let this linger any longer.

“Maybe we need to fight,"” he took a deep breath, his voice slightly shaky. “Maybe if we actually talked about this, really talked about it, we could get some goddamn closure for once.”

That damn word set her off like a switch had been flipped, her mind spiraling into chaos. Closure? Fuck him. How could he even ask for that? She wanted to be respected, to feel like she mattered, and instead, he had fucked her over in the worst possible way. Every part of her burned with anger, the weight of betrayal sinking deep into her bones. She couldn’t believe she was hearing that — closure. After everything he’d done, after the silence, after the lies, after the countless ways he had turned away when she needed him most, he was asking for closure? The audacity of it made her blood boil, the sting of every painful memory rushing back with the force of a tidal wave. He had taken so much from her, and now he was trying to act like he was the one who needed answers?

It felt like a slap in the face, the one thing she never thought she would hear from him. The one thing that made all of the pain, all the sacrifice, all the love she had given feel like it had meant nothing.

“You want closure?” She asks in a scoff as she sits up in the bed, her knees shaking against her chest as she holds herself close. “I’ll give you closure.”

She was so vulnerable that anything could set her off. Her emotions were all over the place and all mixed up.

“You were a bad person, Rafe, but I kept up with your bullshit,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had held back for so long. “I loved you like no one else did, and you did me dirty.” The words cut through the silence, sharp and bitter, and he could almost see them flowing from her soft lips, each syllable laced with the pain he had caused. “You left when things got too much for you,” she continued, her eyes burning with a mix of sorrow and rage. “You left me in pieces, alone to deal with everything. And you had the nerve to show up with someone else just a few weeks later, leaving me like I never mattered.”

Her words hung in the air, and he felt the weight of them press down on his chest, suffocating him. He had known what she was feeling, had known deep down that she was hurting, but hearing it laid out like this — raw, unfiltered — was a slap to his face. There was nothing he could say to make it right, no apology that would undo the damage. The guilt settled over him like a heavy fog, his own shame swallowing him whole. She was right. He had left her, abandoned her when she needed him the most, and now she was sitting there, her heart torn open, and he had no excuse.

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief as the words left her mouth, each one like a dagger to his heart. He had been bracing for a fight, but hearing she lay it all out like that was like a punch to the gut.

“You think I don’t know all of that?” He asks, his voice tight with anger and frustration. “You think I haven’t been beating myself up for it every damn day?” He runs a hand through his head, his expression a mix of frustration and pain. “You think I wanted to leave you?”

Her eyes were glued to his every movement, searching for something that could make sense of the chaos between them. She was burning in anguish, her heart twisting with every word he spoke, every shift in his posture. The anger and hurt churned inside her like a storm she couldn’t escape.

She wanted to know why everything always ended with screaming, why their relationship always seemed to spiral into nothing but pain and conflict. Why couldn’t they ever find a way to just be? Why couldn’t they hold on to the moments when things felt good, when love was enough?

The question clawed at her mind, relentless. Why didn’t he just leave her to drown? She had been struggling for so long, feeling like she was sinking deeper into despair, yet he always seemed to linger, pulling her up just enough to keep her gasping for breath — just enough to remind her how much she needed him, even when he was the cause of the drowning.

“I know nothing about what you want,” she scoffed harshly, spitting venom out of her tongue. “I just know that you did leave me. And it hurts like hell.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, the venom in her words cutting him deep. He knew he deserved every bit of it, but it still hurt.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he said firmly, his voice strained. “I never wanted to leave you, goddamnit. I just thought-“ He cuts himself off, his eyes drifting to the floor. He didn’t want to admit the truth out loud.

Her eyebrows furrowed at his unfinished words. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew it had more to it than what he was saying. She just thought he would never tell her.

“You just thought what?” She asks him.

Rafe takes a deep breath, his eyes still locked on the ground. He knows this is going to be the hardest part of this conversation.

“I thought you’d be better off if I left you.” The confession feels like acid on his tongue, but he forces himself to keep going. “I was such a mess after my father died, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I thought you’d be better off without me.”

The silence that followed the confession was heavy on them. It seemed like hours of them just staring into each other's eyes and breathing heavily. She could see the sorrow in him. She also could see her Rafe.

“You’ve always been an idiot.” She says in a chuckling whisper. What a dumb man. He left to save her and all he did was damn her.

Rafe couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle at her unexpected reply. He had expected anger, tears, anything other than that. But that was just like her – throwing him off guard, making him feel things he thought he couldn't anymore.

He finally looked up to meet her eyes, his expression a mix of resignation and a hint of a smile. “Yeah, I’ve always been a goddamn idiot. Especially when it comes to you.”

She knew she should not have opened her heart to this again. She had promised herself she wouldn’t — promised herself she was stronger than this, that she wouldn’t let him pull her back in. But here she was, standing on the edge of the same cliff, her heart a fragile thing in her chest, ready to leap despite every warning. She knew her friends would kill her if they ever knew what she was doing right now, how she was willing to risk it all for someone who had torn her apart before.

She had been through hell since their split, enduring the long, lonely nights and the endless questions, trying to piece herself back together from the wreckage he left behind. And now, she was dancing willingly in the flames with the devil, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing the pain would come again but unable to stop herself from reaching for it.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely a breath escaping her lips. Her hands shook as they hovered in the space between them, unsure whether to touch him or pull away, torn between the longing and the fear. She wanted them to make up, wanted to believe that there was still something worth saving, something that could be fixed. Yet she was so scared — scared of the same heartbreak, the same crushing emptiness that had followed in the wake of his leaving. But in this moment, her desire for him, for reconciliation, outweighed the terror that had kept her apart from him for so long.

Time seemed to stand still as the words left her trembling lips.

‘I miss you’.

Those words hit Rafe like a ton of bricks, their weight crashing down on him with such force it left him breathless. It was all he had wanted to hear from her for months, the words he had desperately wished for, even though he had never been brave enough to say them first. He had longed for those three words, ached for them with every fiber of his being, knowing that he had pushed her away and ruined what they once had. But hearing them now, soft and fragile, pulled him back to a place he thought he’d lost forever.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of her confession settle in, steadying himself as the emotion threatened to overwhelm him. When he opened them again, his gaze found hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a flicker of something real — something unbroken — in his eyes. His expression was a mix of pain and hope, the raw truth of their past hanging between them like an open wound, but there was a glimmer of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time: possibility.

“I miss you too, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with emotion, the words escaping him with a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But it didn’t matter anymore. The distance, the hurt — it all felt irrelevant now. He was here. She was here. And for this one moment, that was enough.

She can’t help but flinch when he calls her baby again. It was a warm welcoming yet a harsh pull to remind her that she wasn’t his baby anymore. Her lips tremble when she tries to talk but nothing comes out of her mouth. It was so scary to be this confused.

Rafe’s heart breaks as he sees her flinch at his use of the term. Once upon a time, it was his favorite way to address her – a term of endearment, a sign of his love for her. But now it just served as a reminder of what he'd lost.

He closed the distance between them both and slowly reached out to take her trembling hands in his. His expression was one of uncertainty mixed with a desperate hope.

“Baby, I don’t-“ He cuts himself off, his throat closing up.

She couldn’t stay there for another minute. It felt like a dream turning into a tortuous nightmare. She shut her eyes when he called her baby again. Oh, God, what would she do to be his baby again.

“Maybe I should go.” She says in a slightly more subtle tone. She should stop this from happening. They should part ways and get over it.

Rafe’s heart sank as she spoke the words he dreaded to hear. He had hoped — no, he had wanted — this conversation to go much different. He tightened his grip on her hands, refusing to let her slip away.

“No,” his voice was firm, the single word filled with a mixture of plea and determination. “Please, just…don’t go. Just talk to me, baby, please. We can work this out.”

She looked up at him through her big doe eyes, filled with sorrow, a silent plea hidden deep within them. Her gaze searched his face, desperate for something — some sign that this wasn’t just another cruel twist of fate, that they could still find a way back to each other. But all she saw was the same pain mirrored in his expression, a reflection of the brokenness that had once been shared between them. Her eyebrows were furrowed, the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. She couldn’t help it. A lonely sob slipped from her throat, the sound fragile and raw, as if it had been trapped inside her for far too long. It was a sound that broke her, that broke him, and for a moment, neither of them could move, both frozen in the echo of the pain they had inflicted on one another.

She didn’t know how to fix this, how to make it right, but all she could feel was the emptiness that had settled in her heart. The ache was too much to bear, and as the sobs wracked her body, she realized how much she had longed for him to stay, to not leave her alone with the weight of it all.

“And then what?” She asks him in an honest hope of terms. “We’ll apologize for almost killing each other and forget about all that pain? And live happily ever after?”

Rafe's heart aches at the pain in her voice and the tears forming in her eyes. He wants nothing more than to make all the hurt go away – both hers and his. He reaches up and gently brushes away a tear that escapes down her cheek, his touch tender and full of an old, familiar tenderness.

“Baby, I'm not saying it'll be easy,” he says softly, his expression a mixture of pain and determination. “But I want to try. I want us to try.” Those words were a promise, tentative but full of the hope that had been buried beneath the weight of everything they had endured. They weren’t guarantees, but they were real. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

She sobs once again when he holds her closer to him. It felt so right to be in his arms, it didn’t hurt anymore. But it was still terrifying. They weren’t the same anymore.

“I don’t know if I have the strength to try,” she whispered. All she ever wanted was to be his girl again. But what if he decides to leave again? She can’t handle that all over again.

Rafe's heart breaks as she sobs, as she mentions not having the strength to try. He knows he's to blame for that – he's the one who broke her strength, shattered her faith in him.

He pulls her even closer, his arms wrapping around her tightly, desperately.

“You don't have to have the strength. I'll be there, baby, and I'll be strong for both of us,” he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of pain and determination. “I won't leave you again. I promise.”

She allowed him to hold her tightly, her head resting on his shoulder while he pleaded so dearly. He was desperate. God, she would fold in his hands.

“Do you really mean this?” She asks again. He had to be sure that he wanted this, that he wanted her.

Rafe lets out a shaky breath as she leans into him, his heart skipping a beat. He never wanted to let her go, ever again.

He takes a moment to collect himself before answering, his voice firm and unwavering. “Baby, with everything I have in me. I want this, I want you. So goddamn badly.”

Her fingers find his face, tracing his jawline ever so slightly. Her touch was so soft and slowly, almost like telling how afraid she was of him disappearing into thin air.

“We can’t be insane this time,” she whispered as she kept touching his skin. They have to do this right or not even try. “We’ll have to get to know each other again. Heal from what happened first.”

Rafe's heart skipped a beat as her delicate fingers traced over his jaw, the touch a bittersweet mixture of comfort and nostalgia. He nodded as she spoke, his eyes never leaving hers. He understood the gravity of those words.

“We can do this right,” he said softly, his voice filled with determination and desire. “We'll take all the time we need to heal, to get to know each other again. I'm not going anywhere, baby. I'll be here for as long as it takes.”

She stared into his eyes for longer than she should, keeping her silence as she tried to catch any glimpse of regret in him. But there wasn’t. He was serious. He has changed.

“Okay.” She whispered.

And just like that she was willing to go through everything again just for his sake.

Rafe's heart leapt in his chest as he heard the word leave her lips. It was such a simple word, but it meant so much.

He pulled her closer, the relief and hope flooding in his system.

“We'll take it slow,” he promised, his voice still trembling. “No more fighting. No more hurt. Just healing and rebuilding, okay?”

She nodded softly at him, her arms hugging him around his neck. She inhaled deeply into his chest, filling herself with his scent. Only God knew how much she missed this. To be his.

She could die right there in his arms. She didn’t need anything else. But she knew she couldn’t throw herself in this situation so blindly.

Rafe wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close against his chest. He had missed this – her – so much. The feeling of her body against his, her scent filling his nostrils, her breath against his skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms again.

“We'll be okay, baby,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and tenderness. “I won't let anything come between us again.”

She felt like she could finally breathe again. That lump in her throat going away after weeks of choking me. Her heart finally stopped hurting. She takes a deep breath as she leans her head slightly back to look up at him.

“I love you.” She tells him in reassurance. She's never stopped loving him so deeply. But he has to know that love will not be enough this time.

Rafe's heart nearly stopped at her words. I love you. He had ached to hear those words for what felt like an eternity. And now, here she was, declaring her love for him once again. It was like music to his ears.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “So goddamn much.”

Their noses touched, the skin on skin sensation tingling in caress. She never wanted to let go. But she had to.

After minutes of silence, of them just holding each other, their faces touching, she says what she´s dreading to say. “I have to go.”

People may be worried about her disappearing last night.

Rafe's expression shifts instantly, his face falling. He knew this was coming, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet.

He holds her still, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if to physically prevent her from leaving.

“No, baby,” he responds, his voice strained with desperation. “Please, can't you stay a little longer?”

She gives him a sad smile when he holds so much tighter. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to let go of her. Neither did she.

“Kie might be worried,” she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the admission might make the weight of her words heavier. She knows he’s probably heard that after they broke up, she didn’t go back to live with her parents in their mansion. She couldn’t handle the thought of being in the same world as him, surrounded by the luxury and coldness of a life that felt so distant from the one she had with him.

The thought of returning to that world, to the emptiness of it all, made her feel suffocated, as if every corner of the mansion would remind her of everything she had lost. So, instead, she stayed with her pogue friends, people who didn’t judge her, who didn’t expect anything from her but to be herself, messy and broken as she was. They had offered her a refuge, a place to breathe, away from the world that had crumbled beneath her feet.

She wasn’t sure if Kie knew just how far she had fallen, how much she had sacrificed just to stay afloat. But she also didn’t want to explain the depth of her pain, the quiet loneliness that had become her constant companion. She just wanted to move on, to find a way to piece herself together, even if it meant living in the shadows of everything she had once thought was real.

Rafe’s heart sank further at the mention of Kie. He had known, deep down, that she’d likely spent time with the pogues since leaving him. But hearing it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. The thought of her sleeping under the pogues' roof, away from everything he had ever offered, served as a cold reminder of just how badly he had messed things up.

The image of her, curled up on a worn couch or in a cramped space with people who had nothing to do with their past, made the guilt in his chest grow heavier. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the bond she had with them; he had seen it himself, the way they accepted her without hesitation, the way they had been there for her when he wasn’t. But the idea of her living with them, away from the cold comfort of her family’s wealth, told him so much about where she was now. She had chosen authenticity over comfort, warmth over distance. She had chosen the people who had shown her real care, people who saw her for who she was, not for what she could be.

She chose them because they made her feel something he hadn’t made her feel in so long: safe, understood, loved without conditions. It was like a mirror to everything he had failed to give her.

Rafe had always known that her relationship with her parents was strained, even if she never spoke about it much. He’d seen the cracks in their interactions — the cold silences, the passive-aggressive comments, the way they barely looked at her unless they needed something. He had tried, in his own way, to heal the wounds that came with her family’s neglect. He had held her when she cried, whispered promises of safety when she felt lost in the echo of their judgment, tried to show her that she didn’t need their approval to be enough.

When they were together, he thought he was helping her heal, that he was giving her something better — love, security, understanding. He had wanted to be the one who made her feel worthy, who could make her forget the emptiness her parents left in her heart. He’d believed, with all his heart, that he could be the antidote to the poison they had fed her for so long.

But when they broke up, he never realized just how deep the damage went. He had been so consumed by his own hurt, by the end of them, that he didn’t stop to think about what she was going through. She never went back to her family’s mansion after they split. He had assumed she would, like anyone would in her situation — back to the comfort and luxury of her parents' world, where everything was polished and perfect, even if it came with strings attached.

Instead, she went to the pogues. And that choice, that one simple decision, hit him harder than anything else. It was a quiet admission that the one place she should have gone for refuge, the one place that was supposed to offer her shelter, had never truly been a home. It was the realization that everything he thought was better — everything he had tried to offer her — wasn’t enough to heal the parts of her that had been broken long before he ever came into her life.

He should have known. He should have seen it in her eyes every time she talked about her parents, every time they tried to reach out to her with their hollow love. But he hadn’t, and now, as he thought about it, the weight of it crushed him. He hadn’t realized how badly she had needed that support, how deeply her family’s absence had wounded her until it was too late.

He swallowed the pang of hurt he felt within him, but his arms remained locked around her tightly.

“Yeah, she probably is,” his voice was tight. “But can’t you stay a little longer? Just a bit more?”

She catches a glimpse of him swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes flickering away for just a moment as if to hide the vulnerability creeping up on him. She thought he was probably holding back some biting comment, something that would inevitably turn into a fight like it always did before. But to her surprise, he stays quiet, his jaw clenched but his words still stuck somewhere between them.

She keeps watching him, studying the lines of his face, trying to make sense of the mix of emotions there — pain, regret, hope. She couldn’t tell if it was the same old cycle they always found themselves trapped in, or if this time, things might be different. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to make up her mind. It wasn’t easy, but then again, nothing between them ever had been.

“A couple of minutes more isn’t going to hurt,” she thinks to herself, almost as if she were giving herself permission to stay in this moment a little longer. Just a little longer. Because once it was over, once she stepped away, there was no going back.

“I’ll text her that I am safe,” she tells him as her fingers brush on his cheeks. “And then I’ll stay a little longer. Okay?”

Rafe's expression softens as her fingers graze over his cheeks, his tension melting away. Her words are like a balm to his anxious mind.

He nods slowly, his grip on her relaxed a fraction. “Yeah, okay. Just a few more minutes. That's all I'm asking for.” His arms remain wrapped around her, holding her close. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go just yet.

She couldn’t help but leave a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips grazing over his skin ever so slightly. She didn’t free herself from his tight hold, just turned around a bit to grab her phone from his nightstand.

She smiles when she sees the clothes she wore yesterday, clean and folded neatly next to it. The sight of them brings a wave of warmth, and her mind drifts back to the moment she had worn them — how sticky and damp they had been after her most grueling day, drenched from the ocean's waves that seemed to swallow her whole.

He had also given her a bath last night, his hands gentle and purposeful, as if he could erase all the weight from her. And then, when she had finally drifted to sleep in his arms, he stayed by her side, watching over her like she was something fragile, something worth protecting.

She was wearing only one of his shirts and his boxers, the fabric too big for her frame but comforting in its familiarity. The memory of how he had tucked her in, his warmth surrounding her, made her heart flutter despite everything that had come before. The tenderness of that moment — the care he had shown — felt like a lifeline, even in the midst of everything falling apart.

Rafe watched closely as she reached for her phone, his arms still loosely wrapped around her, his touch lingering like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Seeing her in his shirt, the way it hung off her frame so effortlessly, sent another shiver down his spine. It was a mix of tenderness and possessiveness, the soft, worn fabric a reminder of the closeness they once shared, and of how much had changed.

She typed out a quick message to Kie, telling her that she was fine but leaving out the details — where she was, who she was with. Rafe could see her fingers moving quickly over the screen, a quiet tension in the air between them. He couldn’t blame her for being vague. It wasn’t like things were clear between them. But still, watching her type, his heart pounded in his chest, unsure of what she was really thinking or what it all meant.

“So,” she says, turning her phone off and shifting her attention back to him, “Breakfast?”

Rafe lets out a small sigh of relief as she turns her phone off, the finality of it almost comforting. At least for now, it felt like they were in their own little world, no distractions, no pressing questions. He raises an eyebrow at her question, his eyes flicking to the clock above them. “I reckon it’s more like lunch by now,” he says softly, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t sure where things were headed, but in this moment, with her here, he was willing to follow wherever it led.

She giggled softly at his words, that small smirk telling her that he was so comfortable with having her around.

“Lunch it is, then,” she replied with a casual shrug, though there was something uncertain in the way she moved. Rafe’s heart skips a beat when he hears her soft giggle, the sound of it like music to his ears, familiar and comforting in a way he hadn’t realized he missed. Without thinking, he tightens his arms around her just a little, savoring the simple feeling of having her in his presence again, so close, so real.

But as he does, his eyes drift to her body, noticing the way her clothes seem to hang a bit looser than before. He had seen the subtle change in her, the way she seemed smaller, thinner. At first, he thought it was just the aftermath of the breakup, the emotional toll, but now, it made his stomach twist in concern.

She had clearly lost weight after their split, and she was just starting to try to eat normally again. Kie had practically forced her into this recovery, and she was trying — really trying — to get better. But Rafe didn’t need to know the details of that, not yet.

Without even considering how it might sound, he asks, his voice soft but laced with worry, “Have you been eating properly?”

Her eyes snap to him when he asks the question so suddenly, catching her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to notice, hadn’t expected him to see through the subtle shifts. He had caught her, and in that moment, she felt a wave of shame wash over her. She didn’t want to lie to him, but there were things she wasn’t ready to talk about, things she wasn’t sure she could.

“I am now,” she replied, her voice steady, though her gaze avoided his. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. She was trying to eat properly now. She was making an effort to take care of herself, even if it had been a struggle. The truth felt like something she could only admit in small, guarded pieces.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow as he sees her reaction. He can tell he’s struck a nerve, and he’s instantly filled with a sense of guilt and concern. When she responds with ‘I am now’, his heart sinks. That wasn’t a yes, and that wasn't a no. It was an answer that left unanswered questions swirling in his mind.

He takes a shaky breath and nods slowly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“But before now?” he prompts, his voice barely above a whisper.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance when she noticed that he would not drop the conversation. But she knew he was just concerned so she sighed before answering.

“I wasn’t,” she says as my eyes drop to his hands, her fingers playing with his rings. “But I am trying now. That’s all that matters.”

Rafe's heart aches as she confirms that she hadn't been eating properly. It was like a punch to the gut. He knew it was partly his fault – the breakup had taken a toll on her as much as it had on him. But the thought of her not eating, of her neglecting herself - it was enough to make his blood boil.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why weren't you eating, baby?”

She rests her forehead against his chest for a moment, as if trying to hide from the weight of the truth. She knew she couldn’t keep quiet forever, though — the silence only made it worse. Taking a deep breath, she finally looks back up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of shame and frustration.

“I didn’t choose to not eat,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trying to explain in the clearest way she could. She had to make him understand that she wasn’t relapsing into her eating disorder, even though the tightness in her chest felt like it might swallow her whole. “I just couldn’t get myself to do it anymore.”

The words seemed to hang between them, thick with the memories of how her struggle had always affected their relationship. There had been times before, when things were good, when she would push herself to eat just to be normal for him, for them. But there were other times — dark, quiet times — when the thought of food felt overwhelming, suffocating, and she couldn’t find the strength to make herself care. It had created a distance between them, a kind of unspoken pain. She had wanted him to help, wanted him to understand, but in the end, it felt like he had just watched her slip away, unable to bridge the gap between what she wanted to say and what she was actually feeling.

The breakup hit her harder than she had anticipated, not just emotionally, but physically too. The depression that followed felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone take care of herself. The stress, the anxiety — it all piled up, and with it, the familiar, destructive eating habits returned. She stopped eating regularly, stopped caring about anything beyond just getting through the day. The loneliness, the sadness, made food seem like an afterthought. She would skip meals, forget to eat, or force herself to eat just enough to keep going, but never really nourish herself.

She had been trying to avoid the downward spiral that had taken over her before, but it was like she was caught in a cycle she couldn’t break. The pain from the breakup intensified everything — the way she saw herself, the way she felt about her body, the guilt of not being able to maintain any sense of control. It had felt easier to just disappear into the chaos of her thoughts than to deal with the overwhelming emotions of loss and self-doubt.

But now, slowly, she was coming back on track. She was trying to break free from the habits that had been so deeply ingrained, reminding herself that healing wasn’t just about moving on from the breakup — it was about taking care of herself, about learning to nourish her body and her spirit again. It wasn’t easy, and some days were harder than others, but she was trying. And that, she knew, was the first step to finding herself again.

Rafe swallows down another pang of guilt that wells up inside him. He knew that the breakup had shaken her, but he hadn’t considered the extent of it. The fact that she couldn’t bring herself to eat – it broke his heart.

He had seen the changes, the way she’d seemed distant and withdrawn. It was like a punch to his gut, the realization that his departure had only pushed her further into a place she had been fighting so hard to escape. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He had always tried to fix things, to help her when she was struggling with those demons, but he had failed her when it mattered most. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t noticed the subtle signs that she was slipping back into old patterns. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how he had walked away without fully understanding the consequences. He had thought that leaving would make things easier, for both of them, but now he saw the damage it had caused.

But then, there was a flicker of hope when she spoke about coming back on track. She was trying. And that realization — small as it was — stirred something deep within him. He knew it wouldn’t be easy for her, that recovery wasn’t something that happened overnight. But hearing her say it, hearing her take the first steps toward healing, made him wonder if there was a chance, maybe just a slim one, for them to rebuild what they had lost.

He wanted to be there for her, more than anything. He wanted to be the one who helped her through this, who supported her as she fought to find herself again. But he also knew that it wasn’t up to him to fix her, to be the one to save her. That was something only she could do for herself. Still, the thought of being part of that journey — if she’d let him — was enough to make his heart race.

He pulls her close again, his arms wrapping around her tightly, as if he could somehow make up for his mistakes.

“Nut you’re eating now, right?” he pressed gently. “You’re taking care of yourself?”

She nodded softly at his questions, forcing a smile to reassure him. She was taking care of herself even though it was a struggle.

“Yeah,” she tells him in a whisper. “My friends helped me a lot,” she says. Kie and Sarah had her back while she was slipping into that dark place.

Rafe takes a moment to process her words, his expression softening slightly. He was relieved to know that she had people there for her while she was struggling, despite how much it hurt to think of her relying on other people for support.

He let out a shaky sigh, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. “And you’re better now?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation.

She tried to take her mind off of the dark parts of what she’s been through, so she did what she did best to distract herself. Her fingers were slowly tracing and mapping every single detail of his skin. Him being shirtless helped her to focus on each little freckle on his shoulders and chest.

“I am,” she told him in honest words. She was better. Especially now that she is in his arms.

He felt a shiver of pleasure down his spine as her fingers traced over his skin, his body responding to her touch even if his mind was elsewhere.

Her answer – soft and honest, but filled with hope – made his heart skip a beat. He held her closer, the feeling of having her back in his arms and the reassurance that she was getting better lifting a weight off his shoulders.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice full of emotion. “Good. That’s good, baby. I’m glad.”

She can’t help but giggle at the sound of him calling her baby once again. Last night it felt like a distant dream to be with him again. And now it was so real. She was afraid of waking up.

She felt like staying in bed with him for eternity.

As her sweet giggle met his ears, Rafe felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. It was a sound he had missed dearly in the time they'd been apart.

He held her tight, his arms wrapped snugly around her as if to hold her in his reality. He shared her fear of this being a dream, of her slipping out of his grasp like sand.

He chuckled softly in response. “If we stay in bed all day, we won’t have any lunch,” he teased gently.

She bit her lower lip in an attempt to hold back a big smile. Her fingers kept tracing every inch of his skin, memorizing his every spot.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she confessed in a heartbeat.

Rafe’s heart skipped a beat at her confession, his body responding to her touch with a shiver that rippled through him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend the day in bed with his girl, her body pressed against his, their hands exploring every inch of skin. But he also knew that neither of them had eaten yet, and he didn’t want to encourage her already poor eating habits. He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down.

“We should eat something, baby,” he said, his voice huskier than he intended.

She hummed in agreement with his statement. We should eat something. Together. God, they were together again. She couldn’t believe that.

Rafe felt his breath hitch as she leaned in and kissed his cheek again, her soft whisper sending a shiver through him. It was such a small gesture, but it carried a weight that he couldn’t ignore. He had missed this — the quiet, tender moments that had always felt so effortless between them. Now, each one felt like a fragile thread connecting them, and he was terrified of pulling too hard and breaking it.

He couldn’t help but notice the careful distance she was maintaining, though. It wasn’t physical, not entirely, but there was a hesitance in her movements, a deliberate slowness that told him she was holding back. And he understood why. Since the breakup, there had been nothing even remotely intimate between them — not a kiss, not a touch that lingered too long. It was as if they were both treading carefully, afraid of rushing into something that could crumble under the weight of their unresolved issues.

He admired her for it, though. She was right — taking things slow was probably the best way to rebuild what they had lost. But part of him struggled with the restraint. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to kiss her like he used to, to feel that undeniable connection that had always been there. Yet, he knew that pushing too hard, too fast, would only risk undoing everything they were trying to piece back together.

As much as it killed him to wait, he realized that this was about more than just what he wanted. It was about her, about earning back her trust and showing her that he was willing to do this the right way. If slow was what she needed, then slow was what he’d give her — even if every fiber of his being ached for more.

He took a shaky breath and loosened his grip on her a fraction, trying to calm the heat that was building within him.

“Come on,” he said, his voice still raspy from the weight of the morning. “Let's get something to eat.”

She let him slip from her arms as he got up from the bed, his hand reaching out to hers. His grip was soft but insistent, pulling her gently to her feet. Standing there in nothing but his shirt, she felt a pang of discomfort, not because she was self-conscious, but because of the memories it brought back. This house had once been theirs. Their sanctuary. Their home.

As they walked through the familiar halls, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts. The echoes of laughter, arguments, and quiet moments filled her mind. They had lived together for months before everything unraveled. She remembered how quickly it all fell apart — the night he told her he didn’t want her anymore, the way she packed her things in a haze of heartbreak, and how she’d walked out without looking back. Instead of returning to her parents' house, which had never felt like home, she sought refuge with Kie, burying herself in a world far removed from this one.

“It looks the same,” she mumbled as they stepped into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the room that once felt so alive with them.

Rafe walked beside her, his jaw tight as memories crashed over him. He hadn’t changed much about the house since she left. It was as if he’d been unable to. Each corner, each piece of furniture, held traces of her — moments he both cherished and regretted. Seeing her there now, moving through the space like a ghost of the past, sent an ache through his chest.

“Yeah, it does,” he replied softly, his voice tinged with something between sorrow and longing. “Nothing's changed much.”

He wanted to say more, to tell her how empty the house had felt without her, how he had tried to ignore the hollow quiet that crept in after she left. But the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he moved toward the kitchen counter, opening the fridge as if focusing on something as simple as breakfast could dull the ache in his chest.

That gut-wrenching feeling hit her like a tidal wave, threatening to pull her under. She couldn’t stop it. It was as if she was being swallowed by the sea of heartbreak all over again. Nothing’s changed much, he’d said. The words twisted like a knife in her chest. Because everything had changed for her. She had hit rock bottom, been reduced to a shadow of herself. She had turned into a mess, clawing her way back to some semblance of stability. But him? He looked the same. Untouched. Like none of it had mattered.

“I see,” she muttered, a bitter snort escaping her lips. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, but the memories stung too much. He had another girl in his arms just days after their breakup. Hell, she remembered how he had been with someone else just last night. How could he stand there now, acting like any of it meant something?

Rafe flinched at her tone, closing the fridge, a pang of guilt surging through his chest. He knew he hadn’t been fair to her — not in the breakup, not in the aftermath. He had handled it like a coward, grasping for anything to numb the pain. He saw the hurt etched on her face now, and it only deepened the regret that had been gnawing at him since the moment she left.

Running a hand through his hair, his expression crumbled into something raw and pained. “I know I messed up,” he admitted, his voice thick with remorse. “Trust me, I know.”

He stepped closer to her, closing the distance between them with hesitant steps. His eyes searched hers, desperate to make her understand. “But I was just trying to move on,” he said, the words falling heavy between them. “Just like you.”

The tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them. Her body began to tremble, and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like he could see every fracture in her heart.

“I wasn’t trying to move on,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyebrows furrowed as she met his gaze, the weight of her words breaking her all over again. “I was trying to survive.”

Her admission hung in the air like a thundercloud, and Rafe felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. He hadn’t realized the depth of her struggle, hadn’t understood just how much she had endured. For the first time, he saw her pain not as an echo of his own, but as something far deeper and more consuming. It left him standing there, utterly speechless.

The sight of her tears was unbearable, a sharp dagger twisting deeper with every tremor of her body. Watching her struggle to keep herself together unraveled something in Rafe, breaking him apart in a way he hadn't known was possible. He reached out, hesitant, his hand hovering over her shoulder, as if afraid to touch and cause more damage.

“Baby...” he murmured, his voice soft, trembling with an emotion he could barely hold back.

Her words stopped him cold. I was trying to survive. Each syllable cut through the haze of his guilt, striking at the very core of him. His chest tightened as the weight of her suffering pressed on him like a physical force.

She shut her eyes, the sound of his voice too much to bear. It was all too raw, too overwhelming. She loved this man — loved him in a way that terrified her, in a way that made her feel both alive and utterly destroyed. But that love came with scars, ones she wasn’t sure she could heal.

“No, it’s fine,” she whispered on a shaky sigh, her lashes wet as she forced herself to meet his gaze again. She tried to push away the tears, to find some strength in the chaos. “I can’t give us another chance if we keep going back to the past.”

Rafe’s hand fell to his side, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words. She was right, and the realization stung. He couldn’t undo what he’d done, couldn’t erase the nights she spent crying or the days she fought to keep herself afloat. He took a deep breath, his voice a mixture of pain and fragile hope.

“So, what do we do then?” he asked quietly, the vulnerability in his tone almost breaking her resolve.

She bit her lower lip, contemplating his question. They had already decided to take it slow, to tread carefully this time. If there was any hope of making this work, they couldn’t rush back into the storm. They needed to rebuild, piece by piece, to do things differently and finally get it right. She took a deep breath, sliding onto the kitchen counter as she tried to lighten the weight of the moment.

“Coffee?” she asked, a soft smile breaking through the tension, fragile but genuine. One thing at a time.

Rafe felt his heart skip at the sight of her smile, so small yet so full of meaning. It was a flicker of light in the darkness, a tentative promise of something better. He couldn’t help but smile back, a tenderness in his eyes that had been absent for far too long.

He glanced at the coffee machine, then back at her. “Yeah” he replied, his voice still tinged with the weight of their conversation but softening with her warmth. “Coffee sounds perfect.”

For a moment, the kitchen felt less like a battlefield and more like a haven, a fragile space where healing might begin. He walked to the coffee machine, his movements steady, deliberate. The simple act of brewing coffee was grounding, a small ritual of normalcy in the middle of so much emotional chaos.

She sat quietly on the counter, her eyes fixed on him as he worked. The way he moved — effortless, familiar — was mesmerizing. The rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the room, wrapping the kitchen in a comforting warmth that felt almost like home. It was almost cruel how easily the moment mimicked their past, as if time hadn’t pulled them apart, as if heartbreak hadn’t carved deep wounds into both of them.

Her gaze lingered, absorbing every detail of him. The concentration in his face, the way his hands moved with practiced ease. Her heart ached, heavy with the love she still carried for him. God, she still loves this man.

Rafe was painfully aware of her eyes on him. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the unspoken tension curling around them like a fragile thread. It wasn’t uncomfortable — it was grounding, like the coffee. A reminder of everything he’d missed, of the connection that still pulsed between them despite the scars.

As the coffee finished brewing, he turned to her, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “How do you take it?”

Her heart clenched at the question. Something so mundane had become a symbol of how much had changed. Once, he knew the answer without asking. Now, the question hung between them, a stark reminder of the distance they had to bridge.

“Black. No sugar,” she said, her tone clipped. Once, she couldn’t stand coffee without cream and sugar. After the breakup, it became a metaphor for survival — plain and bitter, just like her days without him.

Rafe’s chest tightened at her reply. He remembered her sweet tooth, how she used to grin as she added scoop after scoop of sugar to her mug. Now, the bitterness seemed to mirror something inside her. As he poured the coffee into two mugs, he wondered how much else had changed about her — how much of it was because of him.

He handed her a mug — her mug. The one with the Snoopy drawing. The one he had bought for her after her obsession with Snoopy began. Her fingers brushed against his as she took it, and she couldn’t suppress a soft laugh, her eyes lighting up in a way he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” she said, her voice touched with surprise and a glimmer of warmth. Rafe felt a flicker of relief and hope at her reaction. A small victory. He shrugged lightly, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “Of course I still have it. You love that damn dog.”

Her laugh came again, soft and melodic, like a balm to his aching heart. She held the mug close to her chest, biting her lower lip to suppress the emotions rising within her. The Snoopy mug — the symbol of something so simple, so pure — felt like a thread tying her back to him.

“It means a lot,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “That you kept it.”

Rafe’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his fingers grazing hers on the mug. His voice was low, trembling slightly with emotion. “I couldn’t get rid of it. It was a part of you.” He paused, his breath hitching as he met her eyes. “And I never wanted to forget you.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, a soft, involuntary groan escaped her throat, the sound raw and filled with yearning. There he was — her Rafe. The man who had once held her heart so carefully, now standing before her with his soul bared.

“I’m glad,” she whispered, her voice cracking with vulnerability. She wasn’t ready to say more, but her heart swelled at the thought that, even when apart, he had held space for her.

Rafe exhaled shakily, her simple words hitting him with a force he hadn’t anticipated. “How could I forget you?” he asked, his voice trembling. “You’re etched into my soul, baby.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, her body trembling at his words. When she opened them again, she looked up at him, her lips quivering. “Do you mean that?” she asked, her voice filled with desperate hope.

His hand found hers again, their fingers intertwining as though they belonged nowhere else. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re in every part of me. Every breath, every heartbeat — you’re a part of me.”

Rafe watched her closely, his heart pounding as she processed his words. Her silence spoke volumes — an unspoken dialogue passing between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history.

She bit her lower lip, a gesture he knew so well, trying to steady herself. When she nodded softly, her gaze falling to their joined hands, he felt a surge of emotion so strong it almost overwhelmed him. The way their fingers intertwined felt so natural, so right, as though they had never been apart.

He couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to gently lift her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed lightly against her jawline, his eyes searching hers for the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask aloud.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise. “But I need you to know... I’m not letting you go again. Not without a fight.”

Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the vulnerability in his words threatening to break through the walls she had so carefully rebuilt. She wanted to believe him — wanted to let herself fall into the warmth of his presence — but the memories of the pain he’d caused lingered like shadows in the corners of her mind.

Still, the way he looked at her now, like she was the only person in the world, made it hard to hold onto the anger. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes glistening as she whispered, “I don’t know if I can handle being hurt again, Rafe.”

Her words were a dagger to his heart, but he understood. He knew he didn’t deserve her trust — not yet — but he was determined to earn it.

“You won’t be,” he promised, his voice firm yet tender. “I swear to you, I’ll spend every day proving that I’m not the same man who let you go.”

She let out a shaky breath, her resolve softening ever so slightly. Looking down at their joined hands again, she couldn’t deny the comfort his touch brought her. Maybe, just maybe, this time could be different. But for now, she allowed herself the smallest sliver of hope as she whispered, “One step at a time.”

Rafe’s thumb continued its gentle caress, his touch trembling slightly as though he was terrified she might pull away. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes she once got lost in so easily, were heavy with a tenderness she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. He wasn’t just looking at her; he was baring his soul, silently pleading for her to see the man he so desperately wanted to be for her.

Her words, soft and uncertain, echoed in his mind: I don’t know if I can handle being hurt again. They struck him like a bolt of lightning, raw and real, cutting through every layer of guilt, regret, and love he carried for her. He had hurt her in ways he couldn’t even begin to forgive himself for, and yet here she was — still in front of him, still within reach.

His fingers tightened just slightly on her hand, as if anchoring himself to this fragile moment. “You have no idea how much I hate myself for hurting you,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Every day, I think about what I did. How I broke something so beautiful… so good.” He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping briefly before he forced himself to meet her eyes again. “You deserved better than me back then. And I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve you now, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying if you let me.”

Her lip quivered as she listened to his words, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at the walls she had built so carefully around her heart. She wanted to stay strong, wanted to shield herself from the possibility of pain, but the sincerity in his eyes was disarming in a way she hadn’t expected.

“I loved you so much, Rafe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might shatter her. “I gave you everything. And when you…” Her breath hitched as she blinked back the tears threatening to spill. “It felt like I wasn’t enough. Like I’d never be enough for anyone.”

Rafe’s heart broke all over again at her confession, his chest tightening with an ache he couldn’t put into words. He stepped closer, his free hand moving to cup her cheek as he gently tilted her face toward his. “Don’t you ever think that,” he said, his voice low and thick with emotion. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I was the one who wasn’t. I was scared, and I let my fear ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She blinked, the tears slipping down her cheeks despite her attempts to hold them back. His thumb brushed them away with the same tenderness that used to make her feel safe. The warmth of his hand, the earnestness in his eyes — it was too much, and yet it wasn’t enough.

“Why now?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why are you saying all this now?”

Rafe hesitated, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he answered. “Because I realized I was lying to myself, thinking I could live without you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I thought it’d be easier to move on, to forget, but all I did was carry the weight of losing you everywhere I went. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the confession, her mind warring between the lingering hurt and the undeniable pull of the love she still felt for him. “I don’t know if I can just… jump back in,” she whispered, her eyes filled with both fear and longing. “I need to know this is real, Rafe. I need to know you mean it.”

He leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against hers. “It’s real,” he said, his voice a soft, steady promise. “I mean it with everything I have. I’ll prove it to you every day, in every way, for as long as it takes. Just… don’t give up on me. On us.”

Her tears fell freely now, but for the first time, they weren’t entirely out of pain. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if they could truly rebuild what had been broken. But as she felt the warmth of his hands, the honesty in his words, and the depth of emotion in his eyes, she allowed herself to believe — if only for a moment — that maybe, just maybe, they could try.

“One step at a time,” she whispered, her voice barely steady but filled with quiet resolve.

Rafe nodded, a faint, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “One step at a time,” he echoed, his hand lingering on hers as though he never wanted to let go.

Rafe watches her struggle to steady herself, her teeth catching her lower lip as her eyes drift downward. He can see the storm of emotions swirling within her, reflecting his own turmoil. Every fiber of him aches to close the space between them, to pull her into his arms and never let go. But he knows better — they need to tread carefully, to rebuild what was broken piece by piece.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that makes her chest tighten.

She draws a shaky breath, lifting her gaze to meet his. A faint smile graces her lips, fragile but genuine. She nods, her fingers lightly tracing his in an effort to calm the unease. “Yeah,” she whispers, though her voice betrays her vulnerability. “I’m just… overwhelmed.” She doesn’t elaborate; she doesn’t need to. Rafe understands without her having to explain.

He nods, his focus never wavering from her face. He feels it too — this bittersweet tension, this dizzying mixture of hope and pain. The sheer weight of being in each other’s presence again. Gently, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s a lot, I know,” he murmurs against her skin. “But we’ll take it slow, okay?”

A quiet sigh escapes her as his lips brush her knuckles. It’s a touch so delicate, so thoughtful, and entirely Rafe. Her Rafe. “Okay,” she whispers, her gaze locking with his. The rawness in his eyes mirrors her own, as if the world around them has dissolved, leaving only this fragile moment between them.

Rafe’s heart flutters under the weight of her stare. He takes her hand to his chest, resting it above his pounding heart. “Feel that?” he asks, his voice low and trembling. “That’s for you, baby.”

Her breath hitches, her chest tightening at his words. She feels the steady rhythm beneath her palm, his heartbeat telling her all the things he can’t yet put into words. Tears prick her eyes, but she forces a weak smile as she leans in closer, resting her forehead gently against his.

“You can’t say stuff like that,” she murmurs, her voice laced with a desperate plea. Her palm remains pressed to his chest, feeling his warmth, his sincerity.

Rafe’s breath catches at the closeness, their noses brushing, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them. His free hand moves to cradle her face, his thumb tracing soft circles against her cheek. “Why not?” he rasps, his voice raw. “It’s the truth.”

Her resolve falters under his touch, his tenderness breaking through her defenses. Their bodies draw closer, her knees parting instinctively as he steps between her legs, grounding them both in this moment. She lets her hands slide from his chest to his shoulders, up to his neck, and finally to the back of his head, her fingers grazing his buzzed hair with an intimacy that feels achingly familiar.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she confesses, her voice breaking. She’s raw, exposed, unable to hide the depth of her longing. “For you to hold me when it got too hard. For you to stay.”

Rafe’s heart clenches at her words, the weight of his past mistakes crushing him. His hands find her waist, pulling her closer as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. His lips brush against her skin, and his voice is a shaky whisper. “I know, baby. I know. I should’ve never left you.”

His hold tightens as his body trembles against hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again,” he promises, his voice thick with emotion. “Never again.”

A soft sound escapes her, caught between a sigh and a sob, as his desperation pulls her closer. She lets him hold her, their shared heartache intertwining in the quiet embrace. His words resonate deeply within her, but she says nothing, letting her fingers soothe the tension in his scalp, grounding him as much as he grounds her.

When he pulls back, his blue eyes meet hers, shimmering with emotion. “You’re too good to me,” he whispers, guilt and gratitude lacing every word. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her fingers trace the lines of his face, soft and reassuring. A faint giggle escapes her lips as she shakes her head. “You’re right,” she teases gently, offering a smirk to lighten the heaviness between them. “But I’m here. That has to count for something.”

Rafe chuckles softly, his heart swelling at the warmth in her words. He leans into her touch, covering her hand with his. “It counts for everything,” he murmurs. “The fact that you’re here, giving me another chance… it’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Her smile softens at his earnestness, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “We deserve another chance,” she says, her voice steady and filled with quiet conviction. She believes it, wholly and deeply.

His hand tightens over hers, his gaze unwavering. “We do,” he agrees, the words carrying the weight of his regret and the hope for a future that feels just within reach. This time, he wouldn’t falter. This time, he would hold onto her with everything he had.

"I should go now," she says, her voice quieter than she intended, her eyes flicking to the clock on the kitchen wall. It’s a quarter to one. She has plans to meet Kie soon, but that’s not the only reason.

Rafe’s heart drops at her words, an ache blooming in his chest. The thought of her leaving, of her walking out that door again, is almost unbearable. But he masks his disappointment with a small nod, trying to respect her space. “Yeah, of course,” he says, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

He steps closer to her, his hands finding her hips, his touch hesitant yet magnetic. He pulls her closer, their bodies aligning as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Just… promise me you’ll come back, okay?” His voice carries a plea, raw and vulnerable.

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, her chest tightening as his warmth envelops her. His hands on her hips feel both comforting and terrifying, grounding her while stirring a panic she can’t quite suppress. She sighs, her body betraying her turmoil, leaning into the familiarity even as her mind screams to run.

She tries to smile, forcing her lips to curve as she meets his gaze. “We’ll talk, okay?” It’s the only answer she can give. She doesn’t know if she’ll come back — not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s not sure she can survive being hurt again. Her heart is a mess, fragile and aching, and the weight of his presence only magnifies her confusion.

Rafe searches her face, his grip on her hips tightening ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to her. “Yeah,” he murmurs, the uncertainty in her words echoing in his own. “We’ll talk.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. It’s tender and unhurried, a quiet act of affection that sends shivers down her spine. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, letting the warmth of his lips linger, fighting the urge to lose herself in the safety of his embrace.

But when his lips leave her skin, she feels the emptiness creep back in. Her heart clenches painfully, and she pulls back, breaking the connection. “I really should go,” she says again, more firmly this time, her voice trembling despite herself.

Rafe watches her retreat, his hands slipping reluctantly from her hips. He doesn’t stop her, doesn’t push, even though everything in him wants to. Instead, he nods, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll be here… whenever you’re ready.”

She swallows hard, her emotions threatening to spill over as she takes a step back. “Bye, Rafe,” she whispers, her voice almost inaudible.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #angst with a happy ending #angst

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antinousletmehit · 5 months ago

Note

You know what?

Im about to end all of this wholesomeness-

You know when people think what will happen to reader when antinous dies?

What If it’s THE OPPOSITE?

like reader saw someone (Odysseus) Pointing an arrow and was about to shoot and the she pushes him and take it instead?

I mean from previous fics he can’t fathom the fact she got hurt- he even killed for her

Just for her to die scared I’m his arms???

That has to do something to him right???

Do you want me dead. THAT IS SO SAD opens my notes app

The great hall of Ithaca was chaos. The suitors were scattered, their bravado dissolving into fear as Odysseus, disguised no longer, unleashed his fury. Arrows flew with deadly precision, cutting down man after man. Screams echoed off the walls, and amidst it all, Antinous stood defiant, a snarl of rage on his lips as he drew his sword.

But even he wasn’t fast enough.

Odysseus turned his bow toward Antinous, the arrow already nocked. Time seemed to slow as the string pulled taut, and Antinous saw his end staring back at him in the hero’s cold, calculating eyes.

“Antinous!”

The voice cut through the chaos, and before he could process it, his little sister threw herself between him and the arrow. The twang of the bowstring was deafening. The arrow pierced her side, her body jerking back into him as her gasp filled his ears.

“No!” Antinous roared, catching her as she collapsed. His sword clattered to the ground, forgotten, as he cradled her in his arms. Blood bloomed across her dress, seeping through his fingers as he tried to staunch the wound.

“Why?” he choked out, his voice trembling with fury and fear. “Why would you do that?”

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her wide, frightened eyes meeting his. “I… I couldn’t let you die,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos around them.

“You’re an idiot,” he hissed, his anger masking his anguish. “You—” His voice broke as a tear slipped down his cheek. “You should’ve let me take it. I can handle it. You’re not supposed to—”

She tried to smile, though it was weak and pained. “You’re my brother… I couldn’t let you go.”

“Stop talking like that!” he snapped, shaking his head as if sheer force of will could keep her alive. “You’re not going anywhere, you hear me? I’ll fix this. I’ll—”

Her hand reached up, trembling, to touch his face. “Antinous…is it gonna lonely? I’m scared.”

His heart shattered at her words. He pressed his forehead to hers, his grip on her tightening as if he could hold her soul within her body. “You don’t have to be scared,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m not letting you go.” Tears streamed freely down his face as he rocked her gently, his world narrowing to just the two of them. Around them, the battle raged on, but Antinous didn’t care. He would have traded everything—his power, his ambitions, even his own life—to save hers.

Her breathing grew fainter, her hand slipping from his cheek. “I love you, Antinous,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

“I love you too,” he choked out, his chest heaving with sobs. “Stay with me. Please, stay with me.” But as her eyes fluttered closed and her body went limp in his arms, Antinous let out a guttural scream of anguish, clutching her lifeless form as if his sheer determination could bring her back. Odysseus watched from across the room, his bow raised. There was no satisfaction in his gaze as he observed the grieving man before him, only a grim understanding of the cost of vengeance. He aimed for the grieving man’s throat.

And then they lived down in the underworld together happy and cutesey

#epic antinous #antinous x reader #aphrodites gamble

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sturniololuvz · 2 months ago

Note

something fluffy with bsf matt??

“You’re My Favorite, You Know”

Matt was lying sideways on your bed with one sock on, hair messy from your throw blanket, tapping on his phone while you scrolled TikTok beside him.

It was one of those late afternoons that felt like forever — the kind where the sky glowed warm and everything felt safe. Familiar. Him.

“You’ve been on your phone for an hour,” Matt mumbled, stretching his arm over his head. “Say something interesting before I die of boredom.”

You blinked. “Interesting like… a fun fact? Or like… confess-my-secrets interesting?”

Matt turned his head toward you, a lazy smirk on his face. “Obviously the second one.”

You set your phone down, pretending to think deeply. “I used to have a crush on someone,” you said casually.

“Ooo,” he grinned. “Scandalous. Who?”

You looked at him, head tilted. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Cross my heart,” Matt said, dramatically drawing an X over his chest.

You hesitated. Then shrugged. “You.”

Matt blinked.

And then blinked again.

“Wait. Like… seriously?”

“Yeah.” You laughed a little, nerves fluttering in your chest. “It was dumb. You were always around, and you’re funny and kind and stupidly pretty sometimes.”

He stared at you, wide-eyed, lips parted like his brain had suddenly short-circuited.

“But it’s fine,” you added quickly. “It’s over. I mean, you’re—you’re Matt. You’d never…”

“Wait.” He sat up so fast the blanket slid off him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine—”

“No, no, no. Backtrack. You liked me?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze now. “Yeah. Like… for a while.”

Matt was quiet.

Then—“I liked you first, though.”

Your eyes shot up. “What?”

Matt scratched the back of his neck, cheeks flushed pink. “I’ve liked you since that time we got caught in the rain at that fair and you laughed so hard your soda exploded on my shirt. I don’t even like soda, but I still kept the shirt.”

You blinked. “Matt.”

“Also, I put a heart next to your name in my notes app and changed it every time you dyed your hair. So.”

“You what?”

“Do you wanna kiss me or do I have to keep confessing embarrassing things until you do?”

You blinked, stunned.

Then leaned forward, smiling. “Come here, soda boy.”

And he kissed you like he’d been waiting forever.

⸻

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt stuniolo fanfic

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posh--bee · 27 days ago

Text

beneath the sleeping stars || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → On the way home from yet another case on the jet, you and your boyfriend Spencer take advantage that your coworkers are all peacefully sleeping to have a little bit of sweet and innocent alone time, taking chances and talking about both of you getting hurt during the case.

warnings → early seasons!spencer, shy!reader, bau!reader, established relationship but it’s all very new still, they’re just little anxious beans, just pure tooth-rotting fluff, they’re so adorable your honor, minor injuries, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → This whole thing was inspired by this post from @multifandomangel. I started writing this story immediately after I saw the post but it took me a while to come back around to it and finish it. But now it’s done and I’m very happy with how cute and fluffy it turned out :3 Let me know what you think about it <3 (If you saw this fic before just ignore it, tumblr just likes to put a content label on it only on the android app and it drives me crazy! Hopfully this post doesn't get flagged AGAIN.)

word count → 3.2k

masterlist(s)

You sit next to Spencer on what the team has dubbed “his” couch on the BAU’s jet, currently on the way home to the FBI’s headquarters after having solved yet another case on the other side of the country, absentmindedly staring at the book in your hands you act like you’re reading.

The words on the page you haven’t turned in over five minutes stare back at you unblinkingly, but you pay them no mind, instead peeking over the edge of your book to inconspicuously observe the rest of your teammates relaxing in their seats. Hotch is at the front of the jet in a single seat with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed while Morgan, Emily and JJ sit around the table across from you. JJ’s head rests on Emily’s shoulder who in turn has her cheek squished to the top of the blonde’s hair, soft breaths leaving her parted lips. Morgan on the other hand rests against a pillow pressed to the wall of the jet, his headphones still on and Rossi, who sits behind him, has his legs stretched out over two seats with his eyes closed as well.

It's perfectly quiet on the jet except for the subtle hum of the aircraft’s engines paired with what little you can hear of Morgan’s music and the occasional soft snore coming from one or another person sitting around you.

With bated breath you wait for another minute or two to be absolutely certain about what you’re eagerly hoping for—

They’re all fast asleep.

A smile tugs at your lips and you slowly close your book and let it glide to the floor soundlessly before gently nudging Spencer’s leg with your foot.

The lanky genius next to you stirs and you immediately feel bad for rousing him from his slumber so rudely, but the feeling abruptly dissipates and is replaced by a flutter of butterfly wings in your belly when he gives you a sleepy smile, one hand coming up to rub his tired eyes.

“Hi,” he greets you quietly, his voice a little deeper than it normally is and it embarrassingly takes you a second to answer him.

“Hi yourself,” you manage, matching his soft tone to not disturb the quiet of the jet as it takes you closer to your home through the night sky.

You smile at each other shyly, starting a new round of your regular game of Who will break eye contact first? that you both lose at the same time. An amused huff escapes you at your own antics and you look back to Spencer who is already grinning at you, his cheeks glowing with an adorable blush even in the dimmed lights of the cabin.

He’s so beautiful, you think, and you want to tell him as much, but the words get stuck in your throat like you already knew they would.

Instead you ask him, “How’s your head?”

Your eyes dart to the white butterfly stitch on his temple that a paramedic has competently placed there only a few hours before because of the scuffle your recent unsub had caused before his eventual arrest.

Spencer shrugs but the smile on his lips gets a little brighter, his fingers shy of touching his wound before lowering his hand and placing it on the down on the couch, right next to where your own hand is resting on the cushion.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he tells you, his hand inching closer to yours. “It’s just a small wound, don’t worry.”

“That's good. I’m glad.”

You watch his pinky reaching out for yours and with your heart beating excitedly in your chest you meet him halfway, your fingers sweetly wrapping around each other. Your cheeks burn from the innocent touch while Spencer quietly clears his throat, trying to hide the lovestruck grin on his lips but failing adorably at it—much like yourself, you imagine.

“What about your finger?” he wants to know then and you look down to your other hand resting in your lap, one finger taped to the one beside to keep it still and in a natural position while healing, also a courtesy of the unsub’s messy arrest.

“All good,” you tell him truthfully, after carefully testing your hand’s remaining mobility. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. And luckily, it’s not even my dominant hand.”

Spencer, of course, already knows this but nods in understanding anyway.

“I’m glad,” he repeats back at you and the look in his brown eyes is nothing short of adoring. You have the urge to hide from his gaze, it’s that overwhelming, and eventually you need to avert your eyes to regain even a semblance of composure before you can face him again.

He gives your pinky a quick squeeze when you do and you feel the smile on your face grow even bigger. You let yourself sink further into the comfortable cushions of the couch then, enjoying the quiet and content atmosphere of the jet, the rare opportunity of being close to Spencer like this, openly showing affection like this, as small as it may seem, when the two of you are at work, all thanks to your softly snoring colleagues.

But you can’t fully relax, even though the exhaustion of the case is rapidly catching up with you, making your limbs feel heavy and your movements slow and sluggish. Right underneath your tiredness is an undercurrent feeling of nervousness and excitement that you can’t ignore, that keeps reminding you that you woke Spencer up for something more than a few whispered words between the two of you and pinkie-holding.

Slowly, you straighten up again, squaring your shoulders and ready to seize this opportunity the rest of the BAU agents have so graciously presented you with. Your heart instantly picks up speed and you pause for a moment, mentally hyping yourself up to just ask your literal boyfriend this simple question, but the tiny bit of confidence you could scrape together instantly evaporates the moment your eyes meet his.

“Do you maybe—want to lie down, Spence?” you ask quietly, your heart in your throat making it difficult to form the words around. “It’s probably more—more comfortable than sitting the whole flight...”

Your voice trails off at the end and you mentally scold yourself for it, having gone over your words a hundred times in your head before you even woke Spencer up but still you couldn’t get it right when it mattered. Spencer just looks at you for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes showing nothing but kindness and you try your hardest not to let your disappointment show at his easy rejection, your ears burning in embarrassment.

“I’m comfortable like this, don’t worry.” He gives your pinky another squeeze that you can’t quite appreciate at the moment, but nod to show that you’re listening. You’re always listening to him. “I like being next to you like this and anyway, we will land in about an hour and eight minutes. So you really don’t have to get up from the couch for my sake.”

When you don’t answer him after his words hung in the space between you for a few moments too long, his shoulders tense and his face falls just enough for you to notice, a tight-lipped smile replacing the soft and relaxed one from just seconds ago.

“That’s okay… right?”

He sounds heartbreakingly unsure of himself now, afraid to have somehow said the wrong thing and ruin this moment between the two of you and you pull yourself together to quickly reassure him, your heart rate spiking in alarm.

“Of course that’s okay Spence! Absolutely okay! I like being next to you like this as well.”

Your voice is a little too loud and too shrill in your need to rectify your words so you force yourself to take a deep breath, not wanting to wake up your peacefully sleeping colleagues by any means.

“It’s just not what I meant,” you continue, your voice softening. You give him an encouraging smile and don’t shy away from the intense eye contact when Spencer cautiously searches your face, honest and unguarded. He finds the reassurance he’s looking for there and after a few short moments he relaxes again, a hesitant smile pulling at his lips.

“What did you mean then?”

Your gaze falls to the worn sneakers on your feet at his question and your thumb begins to absentmindedly fiddle with medical tape on your injured hand, fighting against an overwhelming wave of anxiety that crashes into you but after a few calming deep breaths you force your way through it.

“Because the others are all asleep, I thought—I meant that you could lie down, with your head… on my lap, if you want to.”

Now that the words are out in the open your idea doesn’t sound as brilliant and cute as it was in your head—actually, it sounds absolutely stupid, and oh no, why would you say something like that?!

You fight the urge to just jump up and run for the plane’s toilet to hide in there until you have landed safely at Quantico and instead risk a glance at Spencer out of the corner of your eye, your heart jackhammering away in your chest.

Spencer stares at you with such an adorably befuddled expression that would have soothed your anxiety all at once any other time, but now it just makes you curl into yourself even more, almost missing how the blush on his cheeks gets deeper in real time, spreading to his ears and even his neck.

“Or don’t!” you immediately backpedal, mortified and panicking, mentally screaming at yourself for ever thinking this would be a good idea. “You absolutely don’t have to! I just thought—”

“No, I’d like to!” Spencer suddenly squeaks, effectively cutting you off. The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds following his words, neither of you knowing what to do now that your little misunderstanding is resolved.

“Okay. Good,” you eventually say just to have something to fill the stubborn silence that settled between the two of you. “That’s—yeah.”

You clear your throat and press your lips together as your brain is apparently having difficulties providing your mouth with something resembling full sentences and give Spencer a tight smile before reluctantly letting go of his pinkie. You move closer to the armrest by your side to give him enough room to lie down at least somewhat comfortably, and after it’s clear that you are both at a loss for what to do again, you awkwardly pat your thighs, hoping that it’s enough encouragement for Spencer.

He looks at you with comical deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes but after taking a deep and seemingly calming breath he starts to lie down hesitantly. It takes the two of you a few uncoordinated and clumsy moments to sort yourselves out on the small couch, but eventually, between whispered apologies and pointedly avoiding each other’s eyes, you manage.

Now you stiffly sit on the jet’s couch with Spencer’s head resting lightly on your thighs like he is afraid of putting too much of his weight on you, while he is taking up the rest of the space, his back facing the cabin and your still slumbering teammates. He is also far from relaxed, you can feel how tense his whole body is and you notice that his eyes are shut tightly too when you glance down at him.

Despite dating for a few months already and being best friends before that the awkwardness and tentativeness between you and Spencer persists stubbornly. Unfortunately—sometimes frustratingly—that’s neither surprising nor unusual. Both you and Spencer are naturally shy and introverted, anxious even, and not at all confident in your social skills and interpersonal relationships. The fact that neither of you was in a serious relationship before and is more than a little inexperienced when it comes to intimacy doesn’t really help either. You can easily count on your own ten fingers how often you actually held Spencer’s hand, much less cuddled with him or kissed him. You want to be closer to him, at least in the privacy of your home or away from prying eyes (most likely belonging to nosy but well-meaning coworkers), want to create and share special memories and him, and you know that Spencer feels the same way. The two of you just need more time to get comfortable and confident with this new chapter of your relationship. But that’s okay, you know that. Eventually, you will get there, at a pace you both are comfortable with.

But until then you’ll have to deal with your heart almost beating out of your chest while Spencer is trying to relax on your lap, a dizzying mix of happiness and anxiety and every emotion in between swirling in your chest. It makes your hands shake and hard to focus on anything else than the euphoric but frightening feeling of having your boyfriend—somewhat comfortably—cuddling up to you. You still feel a little silly about how clumsy you asked him for this but you were rewarded for your uncharacteristic bravery by the comforting weight of Spencer leaning against you, his warmth seeping into your skin, a pleasant and blissful shiver running down your spine.

You love Spencer, it’s the only thing on your mind when you look down to him lying on your lap, and surprisingly the thought doesn’t terrify you. It’s the easiest truth you ever accepted and the sense of calmness that follows has everything to do with the fact that you’re in a relationship with someone as kind and considerate as Spencer.

But you won’t be able to admit this to him anytime soon, you know that, so instead you say something easier, something lighter, but equally as true.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Spence. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

He blinks up at you when your whispered words register in his mind, his brown eyes impossible soft, impossible adoring. You let the gentle caress of butterfly wings fluttering in your chest and belly wash over you, your world narrowing down to this moment between Spencer and you. Everything else vanished into the background, the jet, the team, even your anxious and overthinking mind quieting enough for you to be completely present in this precious moment with your favorite person in the world.

As if moving on its own your hand finds its way into Spencer’s hair, fingers carefully, experimentally carding through his silky curls that you’re delighted to find are exactly as soft as you always thought they were.

Spencer jumps at the unexpected touch but not even a second later he’s completely relaxed against you, looking like an extremely content and comically overgrown cat, happily purring in your lap.

With a sigh, his eyes fall closed in pure bliss, murmuring into the comfortable and peaceful quietness between you, “This feels nice.”

“I’m glad,” you answer in a whisper, dutifully continuing with your ministrations, burning this moment into your mind, forever.

Without opening his eyes Spencer goes on, your name on his lips, “I was really scared for a moment during the arrest. When the unsub lashed out at you, I think my heart almost stopped in my chest.”

With a sympathetic smile and nod that Spencer can’t see you bring your hand to his face, caressing his warm and soft cheek with one only slightly shaking finger.

“I know what you mean. I felt the same when you came to help me and the unsub hit you,” you admit, the shameful guilt welling up inside you leaving a bitter taste on your tongue all of a sudden. Because that’s how Spencer got hurt, rushing to your side to assist you.

But before you can even begin to spiral, Spencer’s eyes fly open, his gaze fierce when you lock downcast eyes with him.

“It wasn’t your fault, please don’t think that. I’m always going to look out for you, you know that, right? You’re important to me.”

His voice is firm, insistent, leaving no room for arguments, no room for doubts or guilt. A shaky exhale pushes past your lips and you give him a grateful smile, having no choice but to believe his words. Not when he’s looking at you with complete and utter conviction, not letting your mind torment you for even a second because of what happened during the arrest.

“Of course I know that, Spence,” you assure him, cupping his jaw. “And I hope you know that I’ll always come to your rescue too.”

His face softens immediately, subconsciously nuzzling into your hand, his lips unintentionally brushing against your palm when he says, “I do.”

Your breathing hitches noticeably at the faint touch and Spencer himself turns to stone on top of you, his large, panicked eyes darting over your face. He’s just about to launch into a distressed apology that is really not necessary when you lean down to stop him by pressing a featherlight kiss to his temple, just shy of his wound.

You surprise yourself with your action and now can do nothing but stare helplessly down at your boyfriend who only mirrors your expression back at you, his cheeks turning cherry red in an instant. But before you can now stumble your way through an apology, Spencer takes your injured hand in his without meeting your eyes and brings it to his lips, softly kissing the tips of your fingers.

He quickly hides his face in your stomach after letting go of your hand, leaving you perplexed and speechless, the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks burning. And just like that neither of you is able to speak up or look at the other again, both of you left to battle with their own bashfulness for the rest of the flight.

It’s probably for the best that in your painfully adorable awkwardness, you and Spencer fail to notice how your supposedly sleeping teammates are in fact very much not asleep at the moment, shamelessly enjoying their favorite workplace romance unfolding before them live and in color, their reactions to it varying from person to person.

JJ hides her tickled grin in the crook of Emily’s neck who in turn has to fight hard for her composure as to not reveal all of their sneaky nosiness, her whole body shaking with the effort of it. Morgan groans fondly, the noise muffled by his pillow, wondering if his eardrums will survive Garcia’s screeching when he tells her about how sickly adorable Spencer and you acted on the flight back to Quantico. Rossi on the other hand rolls his eyes hard enough to see the back of his own skull but the smile on his lips betrays him, muttering an amused “amore giovane” under his breath.

And even Hotch has an almost noticeable proud smile on his face—but Spencer and you still won’t get around the little talk your supervisor has planned for you about your relationship next thing tomorrow morning.

But all of this is lost on you and Spencer, tucked away in your own little world of adorably awkward puppy love which is for the best. Because neither of you would be able to handle the embarrassment from the realization that you weren’t as unobserved as you thought you were.

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Feel free to hop into my inbox and talk to me ✨

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you

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imyourbratzdoll · 2 years ago

Text

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇…

hello! sorry for not posting anything in a while, I haven't had any motivation but this is an idea I've been thinking of for about a year now! I hope you all enjoy it.

summary - it's your first day working for the famous weatherman ari levinson, it turned out a lot better than you expected.

warning - smut, voyeurism, recording, daddy kink, choking, fingering, creampie, swearing, degrading, slut shaming, semi-public sex, powerplay.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You walk into the building, excitement building with each step. Your knee-length skirt rests tightly on your hips, cupping your arse wonderfully and your tucked-in, light purple blouse hugs your figure, barely containing your breasts from spilling out. Your heels click against the tile, and your heart squeezes inside your chest as you near the room. Your hand shook slightly as you reached for the handle, pushing the door open, your eyes widening as you took in the hustle. Everyone was moving fast, ensuring everything was getting done in time.

Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on the infamous weatherman. The man every woman has wet dreams about, the man they’d happily get up early for just to see him on their screen. You watched as women fluttered around him, refreshing his make-up, to make him look perfect for the TV but that was impossible, he was already perfect enough. You felt your knickers dampen, slick gathering between your thighs, cunt throbbing as your eyes connected with his. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you swear you were on the verge of a panic attack when he smirked, his eyes moving up and down your body slowly before he licked his lips. Ari Levinson was going to be the death of you and all womankind.

“Miss?” You blink, breaking eye contact with a god and shyly look at another man trying to get your attention. “Mr Levinson is ready for you. You will be training alongside him, so he said to meet him in the weather section.” You nod, happily but shyly follow along, keeping your head down so you don’t accidentally catch his eye again. The man stops in the area and shows you where you will be standing. A table is wheeled in and you grow confused, never seeing a table in this part of the news before.

“What is the table for, if it’s not too much to ask?” You stare at it curiously, tilting your head to the side.

The man shrugs before his hand flies to the earphone connected to his ear and he speaks to the person on the other side. He looks at you. “Mr Levinson will be here in a few seconds.” That’s all he says as he turns and leaves you to stand there by yourself. You look around, standing with your hands interlocked in front of you.

You are so busy looking down at your shoes, getting lost in your own world that you don’t notice the man himself has made his way over. His navy blue suit hugged his figure perfectly, his shoes shined, and his medium-length hair was combed and pushed out of his face. “Good morning, Miss L/N” You jump, looking up with wide eyes as you notice he’s neared, standing so close that you can practically smell his cologne. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” He reaches forward, expecting a handshake.

You stumble, quickly slipping your hand into his, feeling a shiver rush through your body as you make contact, his hand so warm and large. “G–good morning, Mr Levinson! It’s a pleasure to be working with you!” You stutter, spurting out words as you peer up at him through your lashes. Your chest heaving as his blue eyes stare down at you. “I–uh…” You look between him and the table. “May I ask what the table is for? I’ve never seen you use it in one of your reports.” You gulp, hoping that you haven’t disappointed him immediately.

Ari smirks, his hand comes around and rests on your lower back, leading you over to the table in speaking. “I have something special planned for this one. You, my little costar. Will be my special guest.” He smiles down at you, something darker behind his eyes. You didn’t know, but the moment Ari had seen you in the interview, he knew he needed to have you any way he could and he planned something so naughty, so sexual that the whole world would talk about it. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetness?”

“N–no! I don’t mind at all, Mr Levinson! I am just honoured to be working with you! You see, I am a big fan!” You blink up at him, wondering how he could be even more perfect up close. “I will do anything to make this perfect!” Ari’s grin widens, and you shift as he continues to stare. “I–is there something on my face, Mister?”

Ari shakes his head and moves away from you, he runs his hand through his hair and gets in position. “No, sweetness. Now, be a good girl and stand behind the table for me.” He gestures, watching with lustful eyes as you obey immediately. He holds back a groan as his gaze falls to your arse, loving how the skirt hugs it so perfectly. Ari blinks and his face becomes straight, his eyes move from your plump arse to the cameraman, and he gives a slight nod, showing that he is ready. Once he gets the signal, he begins. “Good morning everyone! I am your weatherman Ari Levinson and I have a special guest with me today! Please welcome, Miss Y/n L/n!”

You smile shyly, giving a small wave and you feel your body heat up as Ari takes a step closer to you, brushing up against you. “H–hi!” You clear your throat and straighten your back, wanting to be seen as a professional instead of some shy little girl.

Ari’s hand brushes against your hip, and you swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape. A giddy geek by the name of Jake Jensen stands behind the camera, anticipating what's to come. He was amazed at how Ari could work his looks and money, being able to persuade everyone in the building to leave to let him do the weather announcement without them. He trusts his good friend to stream this live video to the house filled with the other group of friends. All the men gather around the couch, waiting for his friend to bless them with a good show.

Ari presses against you, his bulge resting between your plump cheeks and you let out a small whine. “Why don’t you tell our audience what the weather will be like today, okay, sweetness?” You gulp, blinking a few times as you try and pull yourself back from the fuzziness. His hand comes up and he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, “You there, sweetness?”

You nod, sighing softly. “Y–yes, I’m here. Uh, the weather today is said to be cloudy with a–a…” You stop, eyes widening when you feel Ari begin to grind against you, his hand sliding to the front of you, slowly pulling your skirt up.

He leans forward, whispering in your ear. “Keep going, You wouldn’t want to lose your job on your first day, now would you?”

You immediately shake your head, continuing as he connects with your bare cunt, groaning when he realises you’ve been walking around wearing nothing underneath. “With a chance of rain…” You clear your throat, biting hard on your bottom lip when his finger brushes against your soft, glistening cunt. A squeal escapes you when you are suddenly bent forward, your chest flush against the cold table, nipples hardening and slick gathers between your thighs. “W–what, what are you doing, Mr Levinson?” You whimper, feeling him grind into you.

“Shh, sweetness. This is what’s so special about this one. You should’ve known that I wouldn’t let someone like you slip from my grasp. I had to have you, and so do my friends.” He leans over you, your body practically disappearing with his large build, and Ari looks directly into the camera. “Say hi to them sweetness.” His other hand slides up and tightens around your throat, squeezing when you don’t obey. “I said, say hi to them. Don’t be a disobedient slut.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a whine passing your lips as he continues to rub your swollen clit. “H–hi, Mr Levinson’s friends!” Your mind felt cloudy, never having felt this much pleasure before. “W–what are you going to do, Mr Levinson?” Your arse pushes back against him as his fingers slip into your hole, pumping fast and hard, curling them into that sweet spot you’ve never been able to reach.

“Call me Daddy, sweetness, and don’t even worry your pretty little head about what I’m going to do.” His cock throbs in his slacks, hardening and straining against the material. Ari presses harder against you, fucking you with his fingers and groaning as you tighten around them. You whine as Ari pulls his fingers out of you, and your orgasm which had been close to the edge, fades away. “You don’t get to cum, sweetness, unless it’s around my cock. You wanna cum on Daddy’s cock?”

You nod rapidly, grinding yourself against him, wanting him buried deep inside of you. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I wanna cum on your cock!” You gasp as his hand moves from your throat, his thumb rests on your plump bottom lip and a groan slips from Ari as you immediately wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking and licking, eyes dazed as his taste fills your mouth.

Ari lifts the fingers that were inside you to his face and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. “Taste so good, sweetness. I can’t wait to be buried between these thighs.” He reaches down, slowly pulling out his thickened cock, smirking as you whine and wiggle in anticipation. “But, I won’t today. I’ll save that for another day. For now, sweetness. You need to be patient, I’ll fuck you in a second.” He growls, smacking your arse, and his cock twitches as he watches it jiggle.

“P–please, Daddy! I’ll be good, please fuck me!” You whimper, pushing your arse against his throbbing cock, and your skirt now rests above your hips. Ari slowly strokes his cock, tapping his leaking tip against your glistening folds, rubbing it through until his head gets caught on your entrance.

“It’s okay, sweetness. Daddy will fuck you now.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head and a strained moan escapes you when he begins to push in, stretching your walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, sweetness. I’m never letting you go after this, oh– You’re squeezing my cock so well.” Ari grunts, thrusting fully into your cunt, gripping your hips as he begins to fuck you hard and fast, becoming feral the more his cock drives into you. “Feel good, sweetness?”

“Uh huh, uh huh! So good, so full!” You scream, gripping the table as your body moves up and down with each thrust. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Your moans echo throughout the room, your walls tighten around his thick member, and for the first time in your life, your toes curl. The men watching groan, pants tightened as their cocks strain against them. Your knuckles grow white as you grip harder, feeling your walls pulsate around Ari.

“Jesus, fuck! Sweetness, if you continue to squeeze me like that, I’ll finish inside you.” Ari groans as you squeeze him tighter at his words, the thought of him pumping you full causes your whole body to go crazy. “You’re such a slut, sweetness. Your first day on the job and you are already sleeping with your boss while his friends watch. You know how much of a whore that makes you? I bet you want them to be here, passing you around and using you.” You let out a pornographic moan at the thought, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock begins to pound into your sweet spot.

“Daddy, I’m cumming! Please let me cum! Can I cum, please?!” You cry out, thrusting your hips back against him, wanting to feel him deeper. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes cloudy and the core inside of you tightens. “Please, please!”

Ari grips your hips tightly, pounding faster and harder, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. “Cum for me, sweetness. Milk my cock.” He growls in your ear as he leans forward, fucking you deeper. “C’mon be a good girl and show my friends how well you obey orders.” Your mouth falls open into a silent scream, your walls pulsate like crazy and your juices squirt out of you, coating Ari’s cock with white cream. You sigh, planting your face onto the table as he continues to fuck you. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, sweetness!”

Ari holds you tighter, hard enough to leave bruises on your soft flesh. “I’m going to pump you full, sweetness, and then carry you home to my friends so they can all have a turn with your sweet body.” He whispers into your ear, grunting as he feels his balls tighten, cock twitching and throbbing before thick spurts of cum shoot out of his thick mushroom tip and into you, filling you to the brim, coating your walls. “Jesus, you feel so good, sweetness. Let’s see how pretty your cunt looks filled with my cum.” Ari groans and you whine as he slowly pulls his softened cock out of your used hole, and squats down. “Oh, sweetness. She’s so beautiful!”

You whimper as his finger connects with your puffy clit, rubbing it gently before he moves down and spreads your lips apart. A groan slips from his lips as he watches his cum slowly begin to leak out of your hole. You gasp as Ari slowly pushes a finger into your hole, pushing his cum back into you, deeper. “You know what the best part of this will be, sweetness?”

You hum, too fucked out to understand. “The fact that you aren’t wearing any knickers, means you’ll be walking out of here with my cum dripping down your thigh.” You let out a little whine, wiggling against him as he continues to finger his cum back into you. Ari stands, straightening his back as he tucks himself back into his slacks and ensures his suit looks perfect. “I hope you had a good show, boys. Now, sweetness. Let’s get you dressed so that I can introduce you to my friends.”

“I’m so tired…” You mumble, nuzzling your face into his neck when he stands you up and spins you around, giving everyone a view of your arse before Jake turns the camera off. Ari grins, pulling your skirt down gently to cover your gorgeous legs. One hand rests on your hip while the other comes up and fixes your shirt. You slowly pull away from his neck and blink tiredly up at him, feeling all tingly and sore between your legs, having never taken someone so large before. “So pretty.”

Ari smiles, tucking a strand of hair that’s come loose behind your ear. “Thank you, sweetness. You’re the most beautiful woman that’s walked this Earth.” His eyes fall to your plump lips, wondering what it would feel like to feel them against his. This man had taken you, yet not once had he stolen a kiss. Your eyes follow suit, flickering down to his lips, willing him to kiss you. A gasp leaves your lips when Ari leans down, holding your chin between his thumb and finger and kisses you, swallowing the soft sounds that escape you. Your hands clutch onto his suit jacket, holding him close to you as your lips move in unison, his taste is so delicious and magical.

You whimper when he pulls away, his and your eyes flutter open and you stare at each other for a short while before you stumble, your mind cloudy from the kiss and legs feel like jelly and Ari smirks. “Why don’t I carry you out, sweetness? It looks like I did a good job, just wait until you get to my house.” You whine at the thought of being filled by multiple different cocks. Ari leans slightly and grabs your thighs, he lifts you and wraps your legs around his hips. “Are you ready, sweetness?”

You nod, nuzzling into him more. “I’m ready.”

With those words, you are off. He carries you out to your new future, one where you will no longer have to work and be worshipped by many men. Fate had a funny way of getting you to meet your soulmates, and a certain cameraman by the name of Jake Jensen was known as a geek, being smart enough to know everything about tech. Except today, he had been so invested in you and your beauty that he didn’t notice he accidentally switched the live recording to broadcast to the world instead of just his buddies.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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slt4kavanagh · 18 days ago

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hi i’m back😛 #nevergettingridofme

what about gf!reader who lives with Johnny like how shannon does in the books and one night she has a nightmare so she sneaks into his room to cuddle

thank you so much🫶 you’re honestly one of my fav writers on this app

safe in your arms

pairing: johnny kavanagh x fem!reader

tw: none

a/n: sorry if it’s short

masterlist !

the night’s too quiet.

like dead quiet — no rain on the windows, no creak of the floorboards, not even the usual muffled music from down the hall. just you and the dark and your heart beating a little too fast in your chest.

the dream hadn’t even made sense. just flashes. screaming, water, the sound of something crashing. and even though you’re awake now, it’s like your body doesn’t believe it. like it’s still stuck in that place.

you kick the blankets off. sit up. wait. but nothing about your room feels right. not the familiar glow of the lamppost outside, not the jumper you left on the chair, not even the photo of you and johnny taped to the wall.

your fingers twitch.

quietly, barefoot and wrapped in your own arms, you step out into the hall. his door’s already cracked open a bit — like he always leaves it, “in case you need me,” he says, even if he never really thinks you will.

but you do.

“johnny?”

he doesn’t move at first. then a rustle, the soft sound of the duvet shifting. “hm?”

your voice catches, even though it’s barely above a whisper. “can i— can i come in?”

he sits up a little, blinking at you through sleep. “course,” he says, already sliding over to make room. “you alright?”

you nod, even though you’re not. even though you’re already walking over, climbing under the covers beside him like it’s second nature. like you’ve done it a thousand times. he’s warm, the kind of warm that melts into your skin the second you touch him.

“bad dream?” he asks, hand finding the small of your back.

you nod again, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

“what happened?”

you shrug. “don’t really know.”

he doesn’t push. just curls his arm tighter around you and exhales against your forehead.

“you’re alright now,” he murmurs. “s’just a dream.”

you hum.

he smells like sleep and whatever soap he uses and the faintest bit of smoke from earlier, when he stood on the balcony talking to gibs about nothing. his heartbeat’s steady under your palm. slow. grounding.

you whisper, “can i stay here?”

he gives a little scoff. “you think i’d kick you out?”

you smile. just barely. your hand bunches in the hem of his t-shirt.

“didn’t wanna wake you.”

“wake me anytime,” he says, softer this time. like it’s not a throwaway comment. like he means it. “you live here too, don’t you?”

you nod again. this time, into his chest.

“so stop actin’ like you need permission to crawl into bed with me.”

you stay quiet, let his thumb draw slow circles on your hip.

“you’re safe, alright?” he adds. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

your throat tightens.

he feels it.

“c’mere,” he says, voice low. “just sleep, baby.”

and for once — with him warm around you, voice soft and heartbeat steady — you think maybe you actually can.

—

the morning sneaks in slow, soft gold spilling through the curtains and washing over the room in quiet warmth. your eyes flutter open first, blinking against the gentle light, but you don’t move—because johnny’s still wrapped around you, the weight of him a comforting anchor.

his breath is uneven, a little shaky, as if he’s just as fragile waking up as you are. his head rests on your shoulder, curls tousled in that wild, effortless way, and the faintest crease of worry still lingers between his brows, softening every time your hand moves to stroke through his hair.

“didn’t think you’d come find me last night,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and something softer, more vulnerable. “thought you’d stay in your own bed.”

you hum against the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse under your lips. “i couldn’t. i needed you.”

he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your jaw, slow and featherlight like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “you don’t have to be scared. not when i’m here.”

your fingers trace gentle circles on the nape of his neck. “but what if the nightmares come back?”

his laugh is low, shaky but real, a tiny breath that feels like a release. “then i’ll be here to fight ‘em off. you’re not alone.”

he pulls you closer, the muscles in his arms relaxing as if your presence is all the peace he needs. his voice dips lower, trembling with something like hope. “you know… i’m not good at all this soft stuff. but with you — i want to be.”

your heart flutters, and he catches the look in your eyes, his own darkening with a tenderness that makes your breath catch.

“i don’t wanna just be the guy who messes up or gets hurt,” he whispers, voice thick. “i wanna be the one who holds you when it’s hard, who makes you feel safe.”

you squeeze his hand, your lips curving into a small smile. “you already do.”

he smiles back, shy and slow, and presses one last kiss to your temple before sighing contentedly.

“stay like this a while longer?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you nod without hesitation, because wrapped in his arms, the world feels a little less scary.

and maybe, just maybe, the nightmares won’t come back at all.

#boys of tommen #johnny kavangh #binding 13 #keeping 13 #chloe walsh #slt4kavanagh

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freshl6ve · 10 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒 | 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

NSFW!! | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑─𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

₊⊹⁀➴ : While Chris and Matt Sturniolo are live streaming, Chris starts getting playful and teasing messages from Y/N, who is just downstairs in his room. The messages grow increasingly flirtatious until Y/N finally tells Chris to come downstairs. Intrigued and eager, Chris leaves Matt and heads to his room, where he is greeted by Y/N for a private and intimate encounter.

𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐋𝟔𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋

˚⊱🦌⊰˚ : 𝐈 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞, watching as Matt and Chris banter and play games on the screen. I'm lying on Chris' bed, patiently waiting for them to wrap up their stream so I can have him all to myself. The room is dimly lit and the soft scent of Chris' cologne hangs in the air. I prop myself up on my elbow and continue to watch the screen, feeling a tingle of excitement at the thought of having some alone time with Chris soon.

The chat continues to fly by, filled with messages from fans and Chris' and Matt's reactions to them. As I watch the screen, I can't help but notice how good Chris looks, even through the pixilated video feed. His hair falls into his eyes as he laughs and his voice has a certain huskiness that I can't help but find sexy.

I switch from the twitch app to my messages, opening up Chris's chat. A smile spreads across my lips as I type out a message: “you look really good in black you know.”

I hit send and wait, feeling a flutter of anticipation. This live stream has been going on for a while now and I know Chris usually checks his phone during it.

I watch intently as Chris grabs his phone, undoubtedly to check for any new notifications. His eyes widen slightly as he sees the message from me, and a sly smile curves across his lips.

It's clear that he is trying to hold back a reaction for the livestream. His eyes dart around the room quickly, checking to see if Matt is paying attention.

I watch as Chris' fingers move quickly over the screen of his phone, typing out his reply: “you watching the live?”

He shoots a quick glance at the camera, making sure his facial expressions are in check. The subtle smirk on his lips betrays him though, revealing that he's excited to be texting me while on camera.

I quickly type back, my fingers moving almost as fast as my heartbeat: “yeah. you look good”

As I send the message, I can see Chris read it on the screen. He keeps his expression neutral, but I know he's feeling a rush of excitement.

My heart beats faster as an idea pops into my head. I decide to have a little fun with Chris, and type out a new message.

“can't stop thinking about you”

I hit send and watch, wondering how he'll respond with Matt right there next to him.

I can see the moment Chris reads my message. His eyes widen slightly and his lips part in surprise. He glances up at the camera, making sure that his expression doesn't give away what he's feeling.

He quickly types out a response, trying to keep it casual: “is that so?”

I grin as I type out a bold reply, feeling a rush of excitement at messing with Chris on camera.

“yeah, watching you right now is making me want to do things”

I send the message and watch as Chris reads it. His eyes widen, clearly surprised by my forwardness while he's on camera.

I watch as Chris reads my message, a mix of excitement and frustration playing across his handsome face. He quickly types out a message back, trying to maintain his cool.

“don't do this to me y/n”

He glances up at the camera, making sure his expression doesn't betray the effect my message is having on him.

I smirk as I read Chris' reply, feeling empowered by the effect I'm having on him. I type out another message, upping the ante even further:

“can't help but think of all the things I'd let you do to me rn”

I hit send and watch as Chris' eyes widen even more, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

Chris reads my message and lets out a low chuckle, clearly torn between wanting to respond to my flirting and having to keep up appearances on camera.

“behave yourself” he types back, his fingers flying over the keypad.

He glances up at the camera, realizing how close he is to losing his composure.

I grin as I see Chris' response. He's clearly struggling to keep his cool, but he's determined to maintain his public persona.

I can't resist sending one more message, determined to push him further:

“make me”

Chris reads my message and let's out a slow exhale, clearly struggling to keep his cool. It's clear that he's growing more turned on, but he's determined to maintain his composure with the livestream going on. His fingers fly over the keypad as he typess his response:

“you know I would, but I can't right now”

I can see the internal battle playing out across his face, his desire for me warring with his sense of responsibility to Matt and the stream.

I bite my lip as I start to type out a response, feeling a delicious sense of power over Chris.

“can't stop thinking about your lips on my skin”

I send the message and watch as Chris' eyes widen further, his composure starting to slip. His cheeks redden and his breaths become more shallow as he reads my message. He glances up at the camera again, hoping that his expression isn't betraying the effect I'm having on him.

I'm feeling bold now, knowing that I have Chris completely at my mercy. I type out another message, this one even more explicit than the last:

“imagining your hands all over me, touching me everywhere”

I hit send and watch as Chris' mouth falls open slightly, his eyes locked on the screen. He can't believe that I'm sending him these texts right now, with Matt sitting right next to him.

Matt suddenly pipes up, noticing that Chris is still staring at his phone. “Chris, get off your phone!”

Chris starts, looking up at Matt with a guilty expression. He quickly closes his phone and sets it aside, clearly embarrassed at getting caught by his brother.

He shoots a quick glance at the camera, a mix of frustration and desire in his eyes. He knows that I'm still able to see him through the screen.

Even though Chris isn't looking at his phone anymore, it keeps on vibrating in his pocket. With each buzz, he seems to grow more fidgety, clearly distracted by the dirty messages I'm sending him.

I can tell he's torn between wanting to read my messages and wanting to pay attention to the stream. I continue to send him text after text, describing in excruciating detail the things I want him to do to me. Every word feels like a challenge, testing his willpower and his commitment to staying on the stream.

As the stream goes on, Chris can't take it anymore. He reaches for his phone in his pocket and reads my most recent message:

“leave Matt and come downstairs for a bit please? I need you. now”

He reads the message, a mixture of desire and hesitation flashing across his face. He glances up at Matt, who is still focused on streaming, then back down at his phone. He doesn't want to just abandon the stream, but the lure of being with me is too strong.

Chris gets up and leans in close to Matt's ear, his voice dropping to a velvety whisper.

“I'll be right back.”

The viewers in the live chat go wild, clearly eager to see what's going to happen. Even Matt looks a little taken aback by Chris' tone.

Chris turns and walks out of Matt's room, making his way downstairs to his room. His steps are quick and purposeful, driven by the desire to be with me.

I look up from my phone as Chris enters the room, a smile spreading across my face at the sight of him. He looks flushed and flustered, his eyes darkened with desire. He closes the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world and leaving us alone together.

Chris strides over to the bed and stands before me, his gaze burning with desire. He reaches down and cups my chin, tilting my face up towards him.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” He murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Without another word, he pulls me into a deep and hot kiss, his lips claiming mine with a possessive intensity.

I moan softly as Chris kisses me, my body responding instantly to his touch. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as our mouths move together in a passionate dance. I can feel the heat of his desire, the need that he's been holding back during the livestream, finally breaking free.

As we kiss, my hands start to wander. I slide my hand under the hem of Chris' shirt, feeling the warm, hard muscles of his stomach. He inhales deeply at my touch, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

I run my fingers up and down his skin, tracing the planes of his abdomen and feeling his heart race under my touch.

As I explore his body with my hands, Chris can't hold back any longer. He takes control, gently pushing me back onto the bed and pinning me beneath him.

His body covers mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress. He gazes down at me, his eyes smoldering with desire.

Chris gazes down at me, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“You just couldn't wait after the stream, could you?” He asks, his voice dripping with desire. “You just had to pull me away.”

He leans down and starts to trail kisses along my neck, his lips and tongue teasing my skin.

Chris kisses his way down my neck and pauses to murmur into my ear.

“Think about all the Chris girls on that live that can't see me right now because you wanted me here, with you, like this,” he says, his voice husky and seductive. He nips at my earlobe, making me shudder in response.

Chris pulls back slightly and looks down at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Now I'm gonna give you what you wanted,” he whispers, “and you better stay quiet.”

He leans in and captures my mouth in another deep kiss, silencing any protests or moans that might escape me.

I kiss him back, unable to resist the pull of his lips on mine. My body is already thrumming with desire, every inch of me desperate for his touch.

His hands roam over my body, caressing and teasing, leaving trails of heat wherever he touches. I arch up into him, wanting more, needing more.

“You're so beautiful,” Chris murmurs against my mouth, his lips moving over my jaw and down my neck. “So perfect.”

His hands find the hem of my shirt and start to tug it upwards, his fingers skimming over my skin as he exposes more and more of me.

I shiver under his touch, the feel of his hands on my skin sending shivers down my spine. I lift my arms willingly as he pulls my shirt over my head, leaving my upper body bare.

He gazes down at me with something like worship in his eyes, his hands smoothing over my skin as if he's memorising the feel of me.

Chris leans down and starts to kiss and nip at my jaw, his lips trailing down my neck and to my collarbone. He sucks at the sensitive skin, leaving behind little love bites that make me gasp and moan.

His hands continue their exploration, caressing my skin and leaving a trail of fire wherever they go. As he reaches my chest, he pauses, looking up at me with a devilish grin.

I let out a whimper as Chris kisses his way down my chest, his tongue tracing a path over my sensitive skin.

“Chris,” I whisper, my voice almost a moan. “Please.”

He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire. He knows what I'm asking for, what I'm begging for, and he's in no hurry to give it to me.

“Patience,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “I know what you want, but I'm going to make you wait for it.”

He continues his exploration, his hands and lips caressing and teasing everywhere but the places I crave his touch the most.

I writhe beneath him, desperate for some kind of release. Every touch of his mouth, every drag of his fingers, is like a sweet torture, building the tension coiled deep inside me until I feel like I might explode.

“Chris, please,” I gasp, my voice ragged with need. “I can't take it anymore.”

He lifts his head and looks down at me, a smirk playing on his lips. He knows how desperate I am, how helpless beneath his touch I've become.

Chris leans back, his gaze traveling down my body to where my sweatpants and underwear sit on my hips. He reaches out and hooks his fingers into my waistband, his eyes fixed on mine.

“Lift up,” he instructs, his voice rough with desire. “Up.”

I shiver as his hands move over my skin, the cool air hitting me as my clothes are removed. I lie bare before him, completely at his mercy.

Chris's eyes roam over my body, taking in every inch of me. He looks like he wants to devour me, but he's holding himself back, determined to savor every moment.

He leans down once more, his lips and tongue trailing over my skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands move over my hips, gripping me tightly as he moves his mouth lower and lower, towards the place where I need him the most.

Chris's lips move from my stomach to my thighs, his mouth hot and wet against my skin. He nips and sucks at the sensitive flesh, leaving behind marks that I know will be there tomorrow.

Chris eagerly obliges, spreading my legs apart and burying his face between my thighs. His tongue expertly works on my most sensitive areas, eliciting moans and gasps from me. The heat in my body continues to build as the pleasure consumes me.

His fingers join his mouth, slowly pushing into me as his tongue swirls around my core. The dual sensation is almost too much to bear, and I find myself writhing beneath him, my hands gripping his hair tightly. The pressure inside me grows, coiling like a spring ready to snap.

“Oh god, Chris! Oh fuck!” I moan loudly, my voice echoing through the room as the pleasure becomes unbearable. My back arches off the bed, pushing my hips against his face as he eats me out with reckless abandon.

Chris pulls back just enough to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. “Shh, baby. Keep it down.” His fingers continue to work their magic inside me as he returns his mouth to my clit, silencing any further sounds I might make with his tongue.

I hold onto his hair tightly, my fingers tangled in the strands as I struggle to keep quiet. The pressure in my body builds to a breaking point, my thighs trembling against his ears as he eats me out. I bite my lip, trying to stifle my moans, but it's no use.

As I get closer to the edge, my thighs involuntarily clamp shut around his head. Chris simply grips my thighs firmer, his strong hands prying them apart once more. He lifts his head just enough to growl, “Keep them open for me,”

My heart races at his command, and I immediately comply. Chris's tongue returns to my clit, now wetter than ever. He teases me with every swipe of his tongue, driving me wild with pleasure. It's barely a minute before I'm on the brink again.

“Chris... Fuck...” I whimper, my voice strained. He knows I'm close. He grips my thighs harder, his fingers digging into my flesh as he intensifies his efforts. His fingers thrust inside me, curving upwards to hit that spot that makes my eyes roll back.

Chris lifts my legs and drapes them over his shoulders, opening me wider to him. With this new angle, his tongue and fingers delve even deeper, and I can't hold back any longer. My body convulses as a powerful wave of sensation washes over me. “Chris!”

My legs shake violently against his shoulders as my orgasm rips through me. Chris laps up my cream, devouring every last drop. He doesn't stop until I'm limp and spent, my thighs quivering like leaves in the wind. Finally, he pulls away, his face glistening with my juices.

Chris leans over me, his face inches from mine. He looks into my eyes with a mischievous glint, his breath warm against my lips. “You need to learn how to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

“Should I teach you how?”

I can't help myself. I reach up and pull Chris closer, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. My tongue darts out, tracing his bottom lip before delving into his mouth. “Please,”

I break the kiss to look up at Chris, my hands trembling as I reach for the hem of his shirt. I slowly lift it up, revealing his toned abdomen and chest. His skin is warm to the touch as I carefully remove the shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

I reach out and help him, my fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his boxers as I pull them down. Chris steps out of them, standing before me in all his glory. His erect member stands tall, the tip glistening with precum. I swallow hard, my mouth watering at the sight.

Chris's voice is firm as he says, “On the floor, now.” I obey, sliding off the bed and onto my knees in front of him. He steps closer, his hand wrapping around his shaft as he begins to slowly stroke himself. “Open your mouth,” he commands.

I part my lips, my eyes fixed on his member as he guides it towards my mouth. He pushes the head past my lips, and I wrap my lips around the shaft, sucking gently as I look up at him. Chris groans, his hand still stroking himself as he watches me. “Good girl,”

He guides me, his hand on the back of my head as he slowly pushes more of his length into my mouth. I relax my jaw and take him deeper, the tip hitting the back of my throat. I gag a little but breathe through my nose and take more of him. “That's it, baby.”

Chris starts face-fucking me harder, his hands gripping my head as he holds me in place. I struggle to breathe, my nose pressed against his cock as he pounds my face. He pulls out just enough to growl, “Shut the fuck up,” before slamming back into my mouth.

Tears stream down my face as he silences me with his body, the sound of wet, gagging chokes filling the room. His pace quickens, his hips jackhammering as he hits the back of my throat over and over. “See how quiet you can be now?”

My eyes water, and spit dribbles down my chin as he ruthlessly face-fucks me. My arms flail, gripping his thighs for support as he destroys my mouth. The pressure in my head builds, and I feel lightheaded, but he doesn't stop. “Look at me,”

Chris hisses, his face contorted with pleasure as he stares down at me. I meet his gaze, tears clouding my vision as he continues to pound into my mouth. “So beautiful, taking it all so well. You're going to swallow every drop, understand?”

I nod, my nose pressed against his cock as he fucks my face brutally. He starts to thrust even harder, the head of his dick slamming against the back of my throat with each pump. I feel him swell, his balls tightening as he prepares to cum. “Fuck, I'm gonna—”

His body tenses for a moment before he erupts, the first spurt hitting the back of my throat. He groans, his entire body shuddering as he empties himself inside me. I struggle to swallow his cum, some escaping my lips and dribbling down my chin.

Chris slowly pulls out, his hand wiping the mess from my chin and smearing it across my lips. “Clean it up,” he growls, his eyes filled with satisfaction. I obediently lick my lips and suck his fingers clean, my gaze never leaving his face. “Good girl,” he praises.

Chris helps me back onto the bed, his hands gripping my thighs as he spreads my legs wide. He settles between them, his voice a low rumble in my ear. “Now, I'll give you what you wanted.”

“I'm going to fuck you so hard,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. “You won't need to drag me back down here for a second round. I'll fuck you into oblivion, and you'll be too fucking exhausted to move.”

Chris thrusts forward, his cock filling me to the hilt. I cry out in pleasure as he begins to piston in and out of me, each stroke more intense than the last. His fingers dig into my hips as he takes what he wants.

My entire body quivers with each thrust, my back arching off the bed as he pounds into me. Each stroke sends a wave of pleasure crashing through me, my eyes fluttering closed as I succumb to the overwhelming sensations.

“Oh God, Chris,” I pant. “Don't stop.” His lips quirk upward in a smirk as he continues to pump his hips. The head of his cock rubs against my g-spot with each thrust, sending me spiraling deeper into bliss.

Chris drives his entire length inside me, bottoming out as his hips meet mine. He leans forward, his hands braced on either side of my head as he hovers above my face. His thumb reaches down between our joined bodies, expertly rubbing my swollen bud. “Look at me,” he demands.

“Stop...can't take it,” I gasp, my fingers tightening around his forearm as he continues to toy with my overstimulated nub. Tears stream down my cheeks, mixing with the sweat that beads on my skin. “Shh, baby. You can take it,” Chris murmurs.

Kissing my neck gently, Chris never misses a beat while thrusting his hips into me. His fingers continue to tease around my clit as he whispers sweet nothings in my ear. Each circle of his fingertips brings me closer to the edge of pleasure.

Keeping his promise, Chris thrusts himself in and out of me with forceful passion. The headboard hits the wall as he picks up the pace. I cry out his name, digging my nails into his back as I feel every inch of him filling me completely.

Chris thrusts harder, panting heavily as he looks at me with a mix of lust and amusement. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted to be fucked like a slut who can't wait until I'm done interacting with my fans?” He growls.

“You couldn't wait, could you? Had to have me now,” Chris hisses, his voice thick with desire. “Well, baby, you're gonna get it. I'm gonna pound into you until you can't walk straight.” His hands grip my hips tightly as he continues to thrust into me.

Chris's hips slap against mine, our bodies slick with sweat. He fucks me like he promised, mercilessly and without restraint. His dirty talk only fuels my pleasure.

I moan as Chris pounds into me, my voice reverberating off the walls of the room. Suddenly, he covers my mouth with his hand, silencing me. His thrusts become even more relentless as he takes me hard and deep.

Tears of pleasure stream down my face as Chris fucks me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. He's so deep, hitting spots inside me that I never knew existed. My entire body shakes with each powerful thrust, his hand still covering my mouth to muffle my cries.

“You like that?” Chris grunts, his eyes locked onto mine as he continues to pound into me. “Can't scream, can't beg for more. You're helpless beneath me, taking everything I give you.” He growls possessively, his hips moving like a piston.

I nod frantically, unable to speak with Chris's hand covering my mouth. My pussy clenches around his cock as he continues to thrust deeply into me, each stroke driving me closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

“Hopefully this teaches you patience,” Chris hisses, his hips slapping against mine. “Next time, you'll wait for me until I’m finished with whatever I’m doing, won't you?” His hand tightens over my mouth as he pounds into me harder, marking me as his. “Won't you?”

I whimper in agreement, my eyes rolling back as he continues to stretch and fill me. His face is inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. “Good girl,” he praises darkly, his voice laced with dominance.

Chris removes his hand from my mouth, his arm wrapping around my waist to pull me even closer. I cling to his back, my fingers digging into his skin as he continues to thrust into me with brutal intensity. My cries of passion fill the room, mingling with the sound of our bodies colliding.

Chris reaches up and grabs both my wrists, pinning my arms above my head. Our intertwined fingers grip the sheets tightly as he continues to pound into me, his hips driving forward in a relentless rhythm. I'm helpless beneath him, completely at his mercy now. “Keep your hands there,”

he commands, his voice strained with exertion. I nod frantically, my hands remaining pinned above my head as he fucks me senseless. The position forces me to arch my back, pushing my breasts further into his chest with each thrust. The head of his dick slamming against my cervix with each thrust. The pressure builds in my core, signaling an impending orgasm, but Chris shows no signs of slowing down.

Chris leans down and kisses me passionately, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that mirrors its lower half's rhythm. The dual sensation of his kiss and the punishing thrusts of his hips is almost too much to bear. I gasp into his mouth as the pressure in my core becomes unbearable.

Chris whispers against my lips, “Cum with me, baby.” The words send me over the edge, and my orgasm crashes over me like a wave. I scream into his mouth as my walls clench around his dick, squeezing him tight as the pleasure consumes me.

Chris leans his head against my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin. “You did so good, baby,” he praises softly, his voice laced with affection. He continues to thrust into me slowly, drawing out the last remnants of our shared pleasure. “So. Damn. Good.”

Chris slowly pulls out, and a flood of liquid trickles down onto his bedsheets. He looks at the mess with a satisfied smirk. “Look at what you did to my bed,” he chuckles. “I'll clean it up later.”

Chris walks to the bathroom and returns with a warm, damp rag. He gently cleans me off, his touch tender as he wipes away the evidence of our passion. “There you go,” he murmurs, tossing the soiled cloth aside. “All clean.”

Chris gets up and changes back into his clothes, his movements calm and relaxed. He sits back on the bed “I should probably go back up now,” he says, standing up again.

I pout, wrapping my arms around myself as he prepares to leave. “You have to go back up there?” I ask sadly, wishing he could stay with me instead of returning to the live stream with Matt. He walks back to the bed and leans down to kiss me softly.

“I'm sorry, baby. I promise I'll make it up to you later,” he whispers, his hand cupping my cheek. “Matt's probably wondering where I am.” He kisses me once more before straightening up and heading for the door. “Stay in bed.”

After one last lingering look at me, Chris turns and heads out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

He takes a moment to compose himself, then heads back upstairs to Matt's room, silently praying that his brother won't notice the change in his appearance or demeanor.

As he enters Matt's room, Chris does his best to act nonchalant, trying to conceal the fact that he was just with me.

Matt looks up as he enters, his expression curious. “Where were you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Chris tries to act casual as he answers Matt's question, his mind still preoccupied bythoughts of what he just did with me.

“I was in the bathroom,” he replies, hoping that his voice doesn't betray his guilty conscience.

To cover his tracks, Chris decides to add a bit more detail to his story. “Then I got a bit hungry so I got a snack,” he says, hoping his excuses sound believable.

Chris sits back down in front of the camera, his mind still half-focused on me and the passion we'd just shared. He starts to read the chat, seeing that the viewers are all commenting on their excitement now that he's back.

He sees compliments and encouragement, everyone commenting on how they missed him and how glad they are that he's back.

He reads through the chat, replying to a few comments and trying to act casually while my scent still lingers on his clothes and skin.

It's hard to focus on the stream, his mind still consumed by thoughts of what just happened. But he tries his best to put on a good show for the viewers, laughing and joking with Matt like nothing unusual has happened.

Every so often, he glances up at the camera, wondering if anyone suspects how he's feeling. But the viewers are all too caught up in the stream to notice the slight flush of his cheeks or the way he keeps rubbing his neck.

I decide to join the live, curious to see how Chris is holding up after our earlier encounter.

As I watch the stream, I can see that Chris looks a little flushed and disheveled, his hair messier than usual and his clothes slightly askew. Despite this, he still looks incredibly attractive, the memory of our passionate moment written subtly across his face.

I watch the stream intently, my eyes fixed on Chris as rolls his head, his mouth falling open like if he was receiving head. Something about the sight of his exposed neck makes me shiver, and I can feel my desire starting to stir once more.

I quickly pull out my phone and type out a message: “god you look so good might have to go for a round two.”

After sending the message, I glance back up at the stream, watching as Chris's phone vibrates in his pocket. He reaches for it, pulling it out and seeing the notification from me.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he quickly scans the message, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He looks back up at the camera, trying to maintain his composure as he reads my message again.

He takes a moment to respond, typing out a message quickly but discreetly. “Don't tempt me,” he writes, his thumb hovering over the send button for a moment before pressing it.

I can't resist teasing him a bit more as I text back, my fingers flying across the screen. “Maybe the Chris girls can wait another few minutes, your main Chris girl needs that Chris dick badly.”

After reading my latest message, Chris chuckles and shakes his head, trying to keep his expression neutral so as not to arouse suspicion from Matt or the viewers. He quickly types out a response.

“I'll be down in a few minutes after we're done streaming, be patient baby.”

He sends the message and then puts his phone away, his mind now fully focused on the stream and trying to get through the remainder of it without letting on how eager he is to be with me again.

#★┊[𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒] .ᐟ 🦌₊˚⊹#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #smut #freshl6ve

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